Mind Games

by Hilary Norman

  ‘I was a little surprised,’ Grace said, ‘at how committed he seems now to getting Cathy out of that place.’

  ‘Why should that surprise you?’ Sam wanted to know.

  ‘Because if the charges against her are dropped, there’ll be no trial and Wagner’s hype’s going to get cut by about seven-eighths – not to mention his fee.’

  ‘But all the hype he will get’s going to be great hype.’

  ‘I thought the theory was that all publicity’s worth having,’ Grace said.

  Sam shrugged. ‘Believe me, if Jerry Wagner manages to play a significant part in getting those charges dropped, he’ll find a way to capitalize on that.’

  Grace smiled. ‘I didn’t know you were such a cynic.’

  ‘I’m a cop,’ Sam said simply. ‘How can I not be a cynic?’ He paused. ‘Or, at least, I hope I’m still a cop.’

  Chapter Sixty-six

  THURSDAY, JUNE 25, 1998

  Wagner caught Grace just as she was about to begin a session late on Thursday morning.

  ‘I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up,’ he said, ‘but I think there’s a real chance that if we prepare this thing solidly enough, the judge might react well.’

  ‘You mean, let her out?’ Grace had almost stopped breathing.

  ‘I’m talking about a chance, Grace. No guarantees.’

  Grace’s eyes moved to her wristwatch. There was a child waiting for her.

  ‘You said we need to prepare. Anything I can do?’

  ‘There might be,’ he said.

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘The judge is going to be concerned about Cathy’s wellbeing. He’s going to want to take a number of elements under consideration. Even if the charges are dropped, until another person stands accused, there’s always a possibility that Cathy could be re-arrested.’

  ‘So that’s going to be hanging over her.’ The prospect was awful, but even that had to be better than staying in jail. ‘What else?’

  ‘The case has attracted a lot of publicity,’ Wagner said. ‘You think Cathy’s going to be left in peace if she’s released?’

  Grace thought she knew now where he was going. ‘Are you saying that the judge is going to want to know she has somewhere secure to live? A place of safety, that kind of thing?’

  ‘Let’s just say I think it might affect the judge’s decision-making.’

  Grace left a couple of moments’ silence before she spoke again.

  ‘Do you think my house would get approval?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Wagner answered, ‘but it’s got to be worth, a shot.’

  Grace knew that at least a dozen thoughts ought to have scudded through her mind, raising their heads to be considered, but if they were hoping to get her to glance their way, they were hoping in vain. Only one thought, one word, was coming through, loud and clear.

  Yes.

  ‘Go for it,’ she said. ‘By all means, go for it.’

  ‘Are you certain, Grace?’

  She remembered the way Cathy had looked in the hospital after she’d tried to hang herself.

  ‘Absolutely,’ she said.

  The doubts began creeping in about a half-hour after her patient had departed. This was, Grace knew, not a problem to be dealt with in total isolation; she ought, she was well aware, to be discussing it with someone.

  She started with Harry, but he was in a mood for eating, walking or having his belly scratched, and not in the mood for listening. Grace knew she had no alternative but to speak to an intelligent, at least slightly detached, human.

  She began with the person most likely to agree with her.

  She called David Becket.

  ‘No one knows better than you,’ he said, ‘that we’re dealing with a terribly traumatized teenager. Have you considered the disruption that Cathy would bring into your home – into your life?’

  Grace told him that she had, and David said that aside from that, he thought it the best possible idea he’d heard in a very long time.

  Bolstered, Grace called David’s son. Sam said that he felt much as he guessed she did; he was much too glad at the prospect of Cathy getting out of the house of detention to allow practical issues to cloud the pleasure.

  ‘They couldn’t find a better person to take care of her, that’s for sure.’

  ‘I hope that’s true,’ Grace said.

  ‘You know it is,’ Sam told her. ‘Come on, Grace, you spend your whole life taking care of kids with problems, and you’ve believed in Cathy from the start every way you could.’

  ‘Yes, I have,’ she agreed, quietly.

  ‘I do have a couple of questions,’ Sam said.

  ‘Shoot.’

  ‘How long would you envisage her staying?’ He paused. ‘Or are you thinking about a permanent kind of arrangement?’

  ‘I don’t know, Sam. I haven’t had time to think about anything too much.’

  ‘And what if it all goes wrong for Cathy? What if nothing sticks against Hayman and they re-arrest her? That’s a lot of potential heartache down the road for you, Grace.’

  ‘Wouldn’t I feel the same heartache wherever Cathy was staying in the meantime?’

  ‘I think it would be worse if you’d been living together.’

  Grace thought about it for all of two seconds.

  ‘Isn’t that a chance I have to take, Sam?’

  ‘That’s up to you,’ he said. ‘You’ll have my support whatever you decide. For what that’s worth.’

  ‘A lot,’ Grace said.

  After Sam, she called Magda Shrike. As always, she was swift to ask all the right questions. She wanted to know what the other options might be for Cathy, asked Grace what effect she thought swapping prison for another institution might have on Cathy if Grace refused. And then she asked the big one: did Grace really trust Cathy enough to have her in her home?

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Grace said, unhesitatingly.

  ‘Then I’m just going to tell you what you already know,’ Magda said. ‘That if you say no, you’re likely to find it tough to live with yourself – but that may not be a good enough reason to say yes.’ She paused. ‘And it certainly doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take as much time as you can over making the decision.’

  ‘I don’t even know if the judge is going to accept the offer,’ Grace said.

  ‘Not to mention Cathy herself,’ Magda added, dryly.

  The only strongly dissenting voice was Claudia’s.

  ‘You’re not really considering this, Grace?’

  ‘Of course I am.’

  ‘You mustn’t. It’s a terrible idea.’

  ‘Why is it?’ Grace was startled by her sister’s vehemence. ‘Because she’s a murder suspect.’

  ‘She’s innocent, Claudia. And if this happens, it’ll be because a judge believes that too.’

  ‘Maybe she is, maybe not. Either way, you can’t take the chance.’

  ‘I can,’ Grace said.

  ‘You mustn’t,’ Claudia told her again.

  All her life Grace had reacted badly when people had tried to tell her what she could or could not do. She tried not to get mad at Claudia now, because she knew that her sister was only trying to be protective.

  ‘It’s a done deal,’ she told her, ‘or as good as.’

  ‘You said you were just thinking about it,’ Claudia said. ‘You said the judge might not even accept it.’

  ‘That part’s true,’ Grace said. ‘But I’m not just thinking about it any more. I’ve made up my mind.’

  ‘Grace, you can’t.’

  ‘Claudia, I can, and given half a chance, I’m going to.’

  That night, Grace dreamt that a powerful, fair-haired man was beating a small girl with long, blonde hair. He was yelling at her, though in the dream his voice was so muffled that Grace couldn’t hear his words, yet she could hear the girl’s crying with strident and painful clarity.

  The dream switched, like a bad edit in a movie, to another man – Frank Lucca – standing over Clau
dia, aged about seven. She was not crying and he was not yelling at her. He was bending over her, and the dream was silent except for the sound of Grace’s own breathing and heartbeat as she hid and watched her father lowering himself over her sister.

  Grace woke up, her lashes and cheeks wet. She couldn’t remember when she had last wept in her sleep.

  She switched on her bedside lamp. It was almost three a.m. Harry was at the end of the bed, watching her with his sharp, warm eyes.

  ‘Hey,’ Grace said softly, and he got up and padded his way across the duvet until he got to just below her right shoulder, and then he lay down again and gave one of his grunts.

  Ordinarily, Harry was all the company Grace needed.

  Not tonight.

  She telephoned Sam.

  ‘Becket.’ He sounded too alert for that time of night.

  ‘Why aren’t you asleep?’ Grace asked.

  ‘Ask my body.’

  ‘I’d love to.’ She swore she could hear his smile through the phone. ‘At least this is one advantage of you being on suspension,’ she said. ‘It’s the middle of the night and you’re home when I need you.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Do I what?’

  ‘Do you need me?’

  Grace thought for about half a second.

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘Give me fifteen to twenty,’ Sam said and put down the phone.

  She told him about her dreams over a cup of hot chocolate in the kitchen.

  ‘At least you don’t need to bother analysing them,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure why they got to me as strongly as they did.’

  ‘They were awful dreams,’ he said simply. ‘Ugly and scary.’

  ‘I guess they were.’

  ‘You want to talk about them some more? Or you want to put them away? What’s better for you?’

  Grace smiled at him. ‘I want to go back to bed.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘I don’t want to go back alone.’

  Sam smiled back at her. ‘Good,’ he said, softly.

  It was the first time they had made love, fully and completely, since that other first time, up on Sam’s roof, six weeks before. They had both agreed that they were holding off, mostly because of all the bad stuff happening, partly because of the pain in his back – for which Sam was now having to take anti-inflammatory medication – but suddenly they both realized that if Wagner got lucky and Cathy moved out of jail into Grace’s place, their intimate life might have to get put back on hold.

  Enough was enough.

  ‘Wonder stuff,’ Sam said against her ear, a little while after they’d finished making love.

  That close up, his baritone voice sounded almost like a big cat’s purr.

  ‘I don’t think,’ Grace said, ‘I’ve ever felt so relaxed in my whole life.’

  ‘Me neither.’

  She drew her face away from his shoulder just far enough to see his profile. ‘I feel safe, too, Sam.’

  She saw a muscle tensing in his jaw.

  ‘I hope you go on feeling that way,’ he said, softly.

  ‘Any reason I shouldn’t?’ Insecurity hit Grace harder than she’d anticipated.

  ‘Many reasons.’

  She drew another inch further away. ‘Am I coming on too strong?’

  ‘No way.’ He turned towards her, wrapped her close. ‘Don’t think that, whatever you do.’

  She allowed herself to relax into his body again.

  ‘We haven’t talked about the problems, Grace,’ Sam said.

  She understood, instantly, what he meant.

  ‘You’re talking black and white,’ she said.

  ‘You must have thought about it.’

  ‘Not really. Not in a problematic sense, anyway.’ Grace paused. ‘I knew it was something that was going to figure sometime, but then again, I think I’ve always had a tendency to ignore headaches until they hit.’ She could feel Sam watching her. ‘What?’

  ‘You remind me of my father.’

  ‘David? I’m flattered.’

  ‘You should be.’ Sam paused. ‘He’s never really seen me as any different to himself or Judy. Even to Saul.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s natural with Dad. I sometimes think he’s like a blind man – he sees right past the surface. And it’s not just a colour thing – he’s just the same with everyone.’

  ‘I think you’re right,’ Grace said softly, then thought about that some more. ‘I can’t say the same thing is true for me though. I can’t say that I don’t see your brown skin’ – she kissed his chest – ‘or feel the different texture of your hair.’ She rubbed her cheek against him. ‘It’s all you, Sam. I love the way you look – I would hate, more than I can say, being blind to any part of it.’ She smiled. ‘Anyway, we both know I’m nowhere close to being as fine a person as David.’

  ‘Shit, woman,’ Sam said. ‘You mean you’re not a saint, after all?’

  She chuckled into the dark and wriggled further down the bed. ‘Would a saint want to do this?’

  They both stopped talking for quite a time, then slept for an hour or so, and it was daylight before they were ready to return to the subject that they both knew wasn’t going to get forgotten.

  ‘I’m not about to insult your intelligence,’ Grace told Sam after they’d carried two cups of coffee back to her bed, ‘by making out that I don’t know we’re going to encounter prejudice if we stay together any length of time.’ She shrugged. ‘I guess I’ve always been lucky that way till now.’

  She shared her limited experiences with him. She had seen enough of the ugliness, of course, on the streets of both Miami and Chicago – she’d heard the ignorant salt-and-pepper jibes and much worse – but she’d never actually met racism in person. Grace had grown up with an Italian name inside a largely Italian community. She had dated an African-American law student at university and she’d spent three months in the frequent company of a doctor from Hong Kong soon after graduation. No one had ever openly hassled either Grace or the men, but she was prepared to accept that she had, probably, been fortunate in that.

  ‘That is Florida,’ Sam said, simply, when she’d finished. ‘No matter how we dress it up or how many laws get fixed, it’s still the South. You hang around with me long enough, Grace, and you’ll get proof of that.’

  ‘It goes both ways,’ she pointed out.

  ‘But I’m bigger and uglier and tougher than you are,’ Sam said, ‘and I’ve had a hell of a lot more years to get used to it.’

  ‘I’ve always been good at learning.’

  ‘It could be a hard lesson, is all I’m saying.’

  Grace switched angles. ‘How does Judy feel about me these days?’

  ‘Ma wants you to come to dinner one Friday night. She said she’ll even cook fish for my nice Catholic girlfriend.’

  ‘I’m lapsed, Sam,’ Grace reminded him.

  ‘Are you ever,’ he said.

  Chapter Sixty-seven

  MONDAY, JUNE 29, 1998

  ‘I can’t believe this really might happen,’ Cathy said to Grace during her visit on Monday afternoon. ‘I can’t believe I might really be getting out of here.’

  Grace did her best to hide her dismay. ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Mr Wagner,’ Cathy said.

  ‘He shouldn’t have done that.’

  ‘Why not?’ Fear flashed in Cathy’s eyes. ‘Isn’t it true?’

  They were in the big visiting hall since Grace was there as Cathy’s friend today rather than her psychologist, surrounded on all sides, sitting on two hard plastic chairs talking across a Formica-topped table. Grace hated it with a passion. All those women, separated from their loved ones by those damned tables and the vigilant guards – no real privacy, not a chance of the slightest, often clearly desperately yearned for, intimacy.

  ‘Grace’ – Cathy’s voice nudged her – ‘isn’t it true what Mr Wagner said?’

  Grace took another moment to answer, painfully aware of the need to be cautious. ‘It’s tr
ue that there’s a chance, Cathy, but a lot could still go wrong.’

  ‘But there really is a chance?’

  ‘Yes, there is,’ Grace allowed. ‘I just don’t want you getting your hopes up in case it falls apart.’

  ‘Oh, Grace, you can be such a downer.’ The fear was gone again. ‘This is the first time anything’s gone halfway right for me in months – I know it could all turn bad again, but right now I just don’t want to think about that. Can’t you understand that?’

  ‘Yes, of course I can.’ There was such optimism in Cathy’s expression, the last thing Grace wanted to do was take it away. ‘I have to say, you’re looking much better.’

  ‘I guess that’s down to the doc,’ Cathy said warmly. ‘He stopped giving me tranks because we both figured they were bringing me down, and he’s been giving me vitamins instead because he knows I hate the food in here.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re off tranquillizers.’ Not for the first time, Grace felt real gratitude and appreciation for Eric Parés.

  ‘And I think I’m getting better at doing those relaxation exercises he’s been teaching me,’ Cathy went on. ‘The doc says nothing feels quite so bad if you can get right down inside yourself, take yourself away from the stuff that scares you.’

  ‘Sounds like he’s been teaching you meditation.’ Grace was impressed.

  ‘“Meditation, not medication” – that’s what the doc says, and that’s cool, because I don’t really like taking all that junk, not even the vitamins.’ Cathy’s blue eyes, so dulled since she’d been in this place, were almost shining. ‘Lucille says I’m feeling better because I know there’s a chance I could get out of here.’ Lucille Calder was another inmate, an older woman who’d lately taken Cathy under her wing. ‘I’m feeling so much stronger, you know?’ She hardly paused for breath. ‘I’ve never been able to sleep well in this dump, Grace, which was why I was so tired all the time, but suddenly I just seem to have all this energy and hope—’

  ‘Are you sleeping better?’ Interrupting seemed the only way for Grace to get a word in, and she was conscious of time slipping past.

  ‘Not really, but I don’t seem to care so much. That’s the whole point, Grace. Nothing’s getting me down the way it was.’