by Tom Saric
"I didn't come here to tell you that. I came here because until the last moment, the Boones insisted that Robert killed Madeline."
"He did not."
"Well then where did they get that idea?"
"I don't know," she snapped.
"Your son killed an innocent girl, Jina. And you're okay with that?"
"She killed herself. Because of her parents."
"What makes you so sure?"
"Because I just know my son!"
I leaned forward and put my hand on the armrest of Jina's chair. As I entered her personal space, she sank back in her chair.
"Let me tell you something, Jina, things that Robert might not have told you about me. I'm highly trained in human behavior and understanding the human mind. I know what people think because I can detect inconsistencies in their stories." I put my other hand on the armrest and looked at her squarely. "And I know you've been lying to me."
She uncoiled and slapped me across the face, then stood up and jabbed her finger at me.
"My Robert didn't kill anyone. Shame on you."
"Shame on me?"
She nodded, fire in her eyes.
"I almost lost the most important thing in the world to me because of your lies, Jina."
"No."
She crossed her arms and turned away from me.
"Because Robert's not dead, is he?"
"He's dead. How dare you?"
"He's not."
"Right there, right there." She pointed at an empty space in front of the wood stove. "He died right there, my boy. I miss him so much."
"Right there?"
"Yes." She pointed again.
I got up and walked past her toward the plate rail.
"Where are you going?" She moved toward me, but I boxed her out and grabbed the urn off the shelf.
"What are you doing?” she said.
I swiveled around, holding the urn in front of her. "Let me ask you, Jina, what kind of Catholic doesn't bury their child in the ground?"
"I want him here."
"No, I don't think that's why."
I started unscrewing the top. Jina reached for it, so I turned my back on her. She began pounding my head, but I was able to withstand the blows.
I unscrewed the top and looked inside.
Jina let go and brought a trembling hand to her face.
Inside the urn was a handful of small bills, what looked like a rainy-day fund.
"Tell me where he is."
"Nebraska?" Sheila said over Bluetooth.
"Red Cloud, population nine hundred thirty-two."
"And he's there?"
I was parked at the far end of a dusty grocery store parking lot, away from the other cars and carts. I'd driven through the night, almost without stopping, and made it to Nebraska in under twenty-four hours. Winter hadn't hit yet, so shoppers were still in T-Shirts and shorts.
"That's all I could get from her. He sends her letters without a return address, but he'd told her during a phone call once that was where he lived. She said in one of the letters he mentioned working at a grocery store, and there are only three in this town. I walked through two of them and didn't see him. So this is the third."
"What if she lied?"
"She didn't."
"You sure sound confident about that."
My mind was feeling clearer, and I sensed that my confidence was returning. "Pretty sure."
"Okay, and then what?"
"What do you mean?"
"What will you do if you find him?"
It was a good question, but one I wasn't ready to answer. The truth was the meeting with Robert could go many ways, and I had to be prepared for all of them. I looked at the passenger seat well to the case holding my Sig Sauer.
"Gus, he's gotten away with it. And he's still your patient… at least he was."
"I won't do anything stupid, if that's what you're asking. How's Karen?"
"Good. I was helping her set up her room at your place yesterday and..."
I saw him leave the store and pass ten yards ahead of me. He had aged more than I would have thought. His face was thin and narrow, with a bit of scruff that might have passed for a beard. Creases had formed around his eyes. He reached a red Toyota Yaris, took off his red and green smock, and tossed it on the passenger seat before getting in.
"Sheila, I'll call you back."
"Gus, just-"
I hung up before she could finish.
I pulled out of the parking lot, keeping about fifty yards back from the Yaris. I followed him through the main strip, past the typical assortment of small-town buildings, all with faded awnings shading their windows.
I didn't want to acknowledge it to myself, but Robert was responsible for Renee’s and Doug's deaths. He almost caused Karen’s and Sheila's too. Jina insisted that he didn't kill Madeline, but that was immaterial to the fact that he had initiated a spiral nearly resulting in Doug and Renee destroying my life.
I wanted Jina to be right about Madeline taking her own life. My biggest fear as a shrink was that a patient of mine would kill someone and I failed to stop it. I'd never even considered the possibility that they would take my words as a directive to take another person's life.
He was in hiding, and that meant there was a real possibility he could become hostile when I confronted him.
He signaled left and turned down a flat dirt road flanked by yellow grassland. I followed him up the road until he pulled into a ranch-style home on a quarter acre of bare land.
I slowed as I approached. He walked up the dusty path to the house, unlocked the door, and went inside. I parked at the edge of his driveway.
I opened the gun case and contemplated leaving it behind. But I was about to blindside Robert, and a cornered cat was a dangerous creature. I grabbed the gun and attached the magazine, but I didn't load a round in the chamber before putting it in my jacket pocket.
I got out of the truck, closed the door quietly, and walked up to the door. When I knocked, Robert opened it.
"Hi, Robert."
Through the screen, his eyes were wide. He was trying to place me. "You're, you're-"
"The shrink you saw."
"How did you?"
"Your mom told me."
He leaned forward so his face was touching the screen. "What did you do to her?"
"Nothing, relax, nothing," I said. "Can we talk?"
He looked back, and I could hear the television playing. He unhooked the screen door and stepped outside onto the porch.
"The Boones are dead."
"Dead?"
"Yup. Both of them shot dead. So he won't come looking for you anymore."
Robert turned away and scanned the distance, as though expecting Kurt Boone to emerge from the horizon.
"He almost took my daughter, you know?” I said. “Revenge for his."
"Your daughter? Why?"
"Looks like you said something to him.”
Robert pinched the bridge of his nose and winced. "I didn't mean for that to happen."
"But I can see where he was coming from, you know? Because if you take a man's daughter, well that's the most precious thing you can take."
"I, I know."
"I don't think you do. Not unless you are a parent. And almost lost a child."
Robert stepped across the porch and leaned against the railing. I thought he was going to say something, but he just stared out at the landscape. I could feel the tension radiating off him and put my hand on the gun handle in my pocket.
"Why did you do it, Robert?"
"No."
"I came all the way here. I need to know."
"You don't need to."
"Tell me why."
"I can't."
"Tell me!"
Robert abruptly turned and walked back to the door.
I thought about drawing the gun. Instead, I stepped between him and the door. "No, you don't get away that easy."
"Doc, it’s okay." He raised his hands.
"Okay.” He stepped back. “Okay."
I moved away from the door.
"Are you really alone?" he said.
"Yes."
"No one else?"
I shook my head.
Robert nodded and glanced toward the road again as though needing to confirm I was telling him the truth. "Maya, come here, sweetie."
A girl of about five burst out of the house. She wore overalls cut into shorts and had pigtails pointing out from both sides of her head. She looked at me with big brown eyes and smiled.
"Who's that man, Daddy?" she said.
"Just Daddy's friend." Robert leaned down and whispered something in her ear, and she ran around the house.
"Your daughter?"
Robert nodded.
"How old is she?"
"Gonna be turning six."
Maya returned in a woman's arms. The woman was tall, with a smooth, delicate face and braided long blonde hair. She wore a floral-patterned dress and walked barefoot. She had an interesting way of looking at me. Her eyes were on my face, but her gaze remained just off center so as not to make eye contact, as though she was afraid to. I wondered if this was learned from years of abuse.
"Madeline, this is Dr. Young."
She snapped her head toward Robert.
"Yeah, he's the one I went to see who helped us."
Her eyes finally met mine and she smiled, showing beautiful teeth.
"You're…you're here."
Madeline knelt down in front of Maya. "Sweetheart, why don't you go inside and watch some cartoons."
The little girl fist-pumped and ran back inside.
"Maddie, the doctor came to tell us something. Important."
Robert grabbed her hand and pulled her close as she looked at me, waiting.
"Madeline, your parents are dead."
Her jaw quivered, and I saw her eyes harden briefly before she broke from my stare.
"Really?"
I nodded.
"Do you want to come in?"
I spent an hour talking to Robert and Madeline at the kitchen table. Maya alternated between watching cartoons and skipping rope outside.
Robert did most of the talking while Madeline offered the occasional detail, but for the most part she stayed quiet. She let the more dominant one take the lead, as was beaten into her by her parents. Some habits die hard.
Robert had seen my name in the newspaper. I was testifying in a case of severe child abuse where a mother had thrown her four-year-old head first into a concrete wall. She refused to get the child medical attention, and he ended up dying from a slow brain bleed. The case was complicated because this family had been the subject of repeated child welfare investigations, and the child had been taken away before being returned to the mother. On the courthouse steps, a reporter asked me whether abusive parents should regain custody of their kids. I said, “What people need to understand is that in these cases the abuse becomes an addiction. And it's not the abuse per se that they are addicted to, it is the addiction to having control over another living being. And that addiction is almost impossible to beat.”
He decided to get advice from me on how to help Madeline. He had intentionally left out her pregnancy because he was worried I would be more inclined to notify authorities and thought that would only put her at risk.
They met at the creek, Madeline without any shoes, and ran to Robert's home, where Jina had the car already packed and running. They drove to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, where Jina's sister had an empty apartment for Madeline to stay. Jina cut Madeline's hair short and dyed it brown to help disguise her appearance.
Robert went back to New Hampshire and remained with Jina for several months. They tried to carry on as normal so the Boones wouldn't suspect him of having helped her escape. Kurt and Tori initially thought that Madeline was either abducted or ran away. They never filed an official missing person’s report, which Robert believed was to avoid investigation of their treatment of Madeline. But that didn't stop Kurt from going to the media with his sob story.
It didn't take long for their suspicions to turn to Robert. Kurt Boone came to the house daily, demanding Robert tell him where Madeline was. Their suspicions increased when Robert told them that he had seen her trying to drown herself in the creek and assumed she was eventually successful. Tori Boone didn't believe that, and thought Robert was hiding something from them. The Boones began following Robert, parking in front of the home, obsessed with the idea that he had Madeline.
After Maya was born, Robert and Jina decided to move to Vermont, hoping that Kurt and Tori would leave them alone. Their plan was to have Madeline and Maya move in with them.
But the Boones didn't stop, and Kurt and Tori soon located Jina's new Vermont home. Tori Boone arrived with a baseball bat one day and smashed both rear-view mirrors while demanding that Jina tell her where Maddie was. Madeline had hid in the basement holding Maya, waiting for Tori to leave.
Robert once again packed up the car, and Jina gave him the last of her savings for a down payment on a home in Nebraska. Robert took my words to heart, and decided to stage his death and confess to the murder so the Boones would stop searching.
It worked. At least the Boones left them alone. But they turned their rage to me.
I liked my solution better. It was more definitive.
Madeline and Robert waved from the edge of their driveway as I pulled away. I hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours, so I would need to spend the night somewhere. I thought maybe I would treat myself to a good night's sleep at a five-star in Chicago.
A phone call came through. Sheila.
"How'd that go?"
I looked out at the open road. It felt like I could see clearly for a thousand miles. It felt good.
"Sometimes, Sheila, things work out okay."
"I take it that it went well?"
"Very."
"Listen, you'll have to tell me all about it. But first, a new patient came in looking for help."
"Okay, sure."
Sheila exhaled into the phone.
"Are you sure you're ready for this one? It's a doozy."
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BELIEVE IN ME
A Gus Young Thriller
When a young woman is found wandering on the outskirts of a rural town without any memory of who she is or where she is from, psychiatrist Gus Young is called in to help retrieve her memories.
What he uncovers could destroy everything he cares about.
Click here to purchase BELIEVE IN ME now
Believe In Me
Click here to purchase BELIEVE IN ME now
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Acknowledgments
Don't Look In features a character that I wanted to write for a long time. As a result, my first thanks must go to my wife, who patiently listened to my early ideas and heard about Gus even before he was named Gus. Those conversations allowed the book to come to life.
Plotting the book was another matter entirely and for that I thank my outs
tanding editors Randall Klein and Cara Quinlan, whose thoughtful comments helped me chart Gus' path and tell the story with precision.
Thank you to Brian Shea, writer extraordinaire (please check out his books, you won't be disappointed!), for providing invaluable consultation on factual accuracy on certain aspects of the book. Any errors are my oversights alone.
I'd like to thank my early readers, particularly my mother, Cody, Jessie, Mike and Kieran. They have brilliant ideas and all have an attention to detail which I unfortunately lack. Without them, I don't think this book would have materialized.
A major thanks to my publishing team: Andrew Watts, Amber Hudock, Mo Metlen and Keris Sirek, who believed in the book from the day I pitched it to them. I am lucky to work with such professionals.
About the Author
Tom Saric is an author from the Canadian prairies. He spent the summers of his youth on the Adriatic coast. During half of the week, he provides treatment to people affected by war. During the other half, he writes thrillers. He also watches hockey, drinks beer, and barbecues a mean beef brisket.
Keep up with Tom at TomSaric.com