Upshall was the name of Crystal’s abusive uncle. An echo of the denial she had just voiced, “I don’t know who did that,” came to her. Maybe she did know. At least she suspected this somehow involved Crystal or Kim. They were what lured her here in the first place. Moreover, who would have done that to Upshall except Crystal’s husband or Kim’s boyfriend? (Did she even have a boyfriend?) Maybe even Crystal or Kim?
She tried to shake off the thought that one or both of her clients might have participated in a murder plot. The anxiety-producing possibility rode with her all the way home.
The drive felt interminable. At last, she parked the car and got out, careful not to slam the door. She reached her apartment before she realized she had snuck into her own home like an after curfew teenager. Why was she unwilling to be seen coming home in the early morning hours? Nothing a nosy, gossiping neighbor might imagine could match the bizarre scenario in which she had just played a part.
She stood under the hot water in her shower until she felt herself drifting off to sleep standing. She brought a dry towel to the bed and laid it across her pillow for her wet hair.
In bed, the questions in her mind were so many and so insoluble they at last ceased to demand answers and so she surrendered to fatigue. Sleep brought a soothing amnesia.
Her alarm buzzed three hours later. The troubling thoughts were back again, persistent as ever. Two of her clients could be killers.
Still in pajamas, while her coffee brewed she called Heidi. After the briefest, most edited version of the story she could manage to explain why she needed it, she got Mike’s home phone number. She thought he sounded surprised. It was before eight a.m. on a weekday, but evidently, he was too polite to ask. He waited to hear her explanation and request.
“Yes, Ma’am, I’ll do what I can.”
His response was so much like him, the gentlemanly deputy, she thought with relief.
“Getting information about a job like that, a kidnapped man tossed in a well. That should be easy. Law enforcement folks like to talk as much as anyone else.”
Little more than an hour later, he called her at the office. “I talked to the other deputy. They say Upshall’s a little beat up, but nothin’ a band aid and a sip of something strong won’t cure. Hypothermia hadn't set in real bad, thanks to you. He’s already fussin’ to go home from the hospital.”
“So he’s not at death’s door, like I thought he might be. That’s a relief. Do they know who did that to him?”
“Two men. Other than that, the good old boy is refusing to say who hogtied him and threw him in the pond. Claims they wore masks and he didn’t recognize their voices. What they did to his car put him out more than anything. I heard he moaned and caterwauled about that, no end.”
“What’s going to happen now?”
“Ma’am, if we arrest someone, like Crystal Naven’s husband, for instance, it will be all over the local paper and you won’t need me to give you more information.”
“What? Why would you arrest Crystal’s husband? Crystal threatened to shoot Upshall, but her husband didn’t. And Upshall wasn’t even shot.”
“Sure enough. Their names came up right quick already in the investigation. We know a little thing like her couldn’t have won a wrestling match with Upshall, so who’s involved who could have? Her husband.”
“Maybe they don’t have anything to do with it. If so, they got nothing to worry about.” Silence. It felt like a question to Allie.
Then, “Is there something you need to tell me, Allie?”
“No. I mean, right, I understand. So, Mike, do you think this will get a lot of publicity? What about keeping my name out of the paper?”
“Not something I can control, Ma’am. The deputy’s report has your name in it. Let’s just hope the reporters don’t get to diggin’ around. If anyone like that does contact you, you don’t have to talk to them.”
“Right, that’s right.”
“But if you’ll excuse me saying this, darned if I can figure out what you were doing out there at the Well in the middle of the night, unless it had something to do with one of your clients.”
Allie didn’t know what to say.
His voice a little wary, Mike said, “I’ll do what I can, as long as it doesn’t go over the line.”
That cleared Allie's head, which swam with new alarm. “I do appreciate this Mike. I want to help Crystal as much as I can, but I’d never ask you to do anything unethical or illegal.”
“Yes Ma’am, that’s what I reckoned.”
Next, Allie called Crystal, saying she had a scheduling problem and needed Crystal to come for her appointment that morning at eleven a.m., instead of the next day. Crystal said she would like to help Allie with her schedule but she didn’t know if she could find a baby-sitter on such short notice. She would try.
When Crystal arrived at eleven, she carried a little boy in her arms. He wore a red jacket, matching knit hat and mittens. His chubby cheeks and a little pot belly were those of a toddler, but he was almost half as long as Crystal was tall. Her face flushed red from the effort of carrying him.
“This is Toby,” she said to Allie when she put her son down. “He just turned two a few months back. Kaylee is in pre-school, but I couldn’t find a sitter for
Toby. I hope you don’t mind.”
She didn’t look up for an answer as she tugged off Toby’s jacket. As soon as she pulled off his mittens, Toby reached up, snatched off his hat and threw it on the floor.
“Hi, Toby,” Allie said, smiling at him. In spite of her misgivings, she took in the sturdy little form with admiration, noticing his dark, baby-fine hair and enormous brown eyes fringed with thick lashes. He looked into Allie’s face without a responding expression.
Crystal produced a handful of toy cars and trucks from a tote bag. “Here, Toby, play with these.”
“Tonka trucks,” said Allie. “I’m surprised they still make those. My son used to play with them.” With an effort, she pulled her attention from Toby and turned to her client. She noticed dark circles under Crystal’s eyes and her hair appeared loose and unkempt. Crystal looked tired and maybe even...depressed? Her client looked a little too much like she had when she first came in, less than three months before.
“How have you been Crystal?”
“Fine. Nothing new.”
“Have there been any urges to cut or harm yourself lately?”
“No.”
“Any thoughts of suicide bothering you?”
“No.”
“I’m glad. Crystal, we’ve talked about your relationship with your husband and the hopes and dreams you have for your children. But we haven’t talked much about your uncle yet, the one who molested you.”
“We talked enough. More is too much. He's not worth it!”
“But you’re worth it, Crystal. You shared some things with me that day in the hospital but other than that you’ve refused to talk about it and it’s an issue I think you need to work on. I think you need to consider reporting it and having him arrested.”
“Why should I drag up all that stuff from the past? What would that be like for me and my family? Why should I worry about it now? Everything’s going fine. Its going so well I’ve been thinking maybe I don’t need to come and see you any more.”
Toby had abandoned his toy cars and now toddled over to Allie’s desk, reaching for her computer keyboard with tiny, purposeful fingers.
Crystal rose from the sofa. “No, Toby, that’s not a toy.” She took her son’s shoulders to guide him away. “Here, here’s a coloring book, see, and crayons? Play with these.”
As soon as Allie had her client’s attention again, she said, “When you talk about the things that happened, that’s healthy, that’s what we call catharsis. It helps to get those memories out of you. I know that reporting him would take a lot of courage. I can’t claim it would be easy. It’s a decision should at least consider.
“And I think it would be a mistake to stop counselin
g. I’m glad you seem to be doing better, but I want you to know that these issues with molestation don’t go away on their own. We’ve talked about what they can do to your self esteem and what a negative impact they can have on your relationships.”
Toby stopped scribbling across the pages of his coloring book. Not bothering to stand up, he crawled purposefully toward Allie’s bookcase. Crystal retrieved her son, and sat him on her knee, hugging him and kissing him on the cheek. “I told you I don’t have any thoughts of harming him or myself or anyone, anymore. Isn’t that what’s important?”
Toby wriggled out of his mother’s arms, slid down off her lap and walked back to the book case, where he began to pull Allie’s books out, one by one. When Crystal started to rise to get him, Allie held up her hand. “Let him,” she said. She studied Crystal’s face. “You haven’t had any thoughts of harming your uncle, for instance, in the last few days?”
Crystal met her gaze with obvious discomfort. “No.”
Silence. After a ten second pause, Allie said, “You’re lying to me, aren’t you?”
Long pause with downcast eyes. Then, “Yes.”
“Tell me about it.” Allie kept her eyes on Crystal, although she could see in her peripheral vision that Toby had pulled most of her books from the book case. He sat amid a great pile, leafing through one with a clumsy sweep of his chubby hand.
Crystal glanced over at her son, perhaps wanting a diversion, but Allie said again, “Let him.”
“Well, then, I’ll tell you. I did want to kill the SOB. When I saw that psychiatrist, that Doctor V-something, he said 'You’re thinking of killing the wrong person,' and I knew he was right. I didn’t deserve to die, my creep of an uncle deserved to die.”
“What did you do?”
“I borrowed a gun from a friend. Don’t ask me who, I won’t tell you. I sat in his garage one night, planning to kill him when he came in. But then...”.
“Then what?”
Toby had tired of his bookish ways. He diaper waddled back over to his mother, legs of his corduroy pants swishing together, and climbed up into her lap. She embraced him, kissed him on the cheek again and began a silent game of patty-cake while she looked up at Allie. “Then I gave the gun back to my friend, that’s what.”
“What about the Well?”
“What? What well?”
“Last night?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re not going to tell the police again, are you? That I was going to kill him? Because I’m not any more.”
“I don’t have a duty to report something that happened or didn’t happen, as this case may be, in the past. You know I have to report a threat. I hope there won’t be another one, or any attempt to harm Mr. Upshall. The Sheriff’s Department knows you threatened him, and if anything happens to him, I think you’ll be their prime suspect. You or your husband.”
“My husband? My husband is about as dangerous as my two year old!”
“That may be, but law enforcement doesn’t know that.”
Crystal looked stunned, then thoughtful. “We’d be suspects? Well, I guess I get that. It's not fair, but I get it.”
Allie felt her mood soften as she noticed that Toby now reclined against his mother’s body, eyes half closed in the complete comfort and security of ownership.
“Crystal, there’s a wonderful book for survivors of childhood sexual abuse that I’d like us to work with. It has chapters about whether or not to confront the abuser, and about feelings of rage and wanting revenge and even about wanting to harm yourself. When you come next week, will you start it with me?”
An obviously more thoughtful Crystal said, “Sure.”
“It looks like Toby is almost asleep, and our time is up. Next week, then.”
Crystal disengaged her now limp toddler, settled him on the sofa and went to the tumbled pile of books but Allie was quick to say, “Don’t. Leave it. I’ll have time to do it before lunch. Just go home now and take care of your baby.”
Allie smoothed the pages of her books and reordered them in the book case. She also tried to put her thoughts in order. The session had been good, as far as it went. She might have just prevented another attempt on Upshall’s life with her warning to Crystal. Also good, Crystal had agreed to work on the molest issues. The best thing that could happen now would be for Crystal to file charges against Upshall and get him put in jail where he belonged.
What if she found out that Allie had saved the life of this man she hated so much? Allie had a rule that she never counseled sex offenders. They repelled her. Her countertransference with such clients would be inappropriate anger or contempt.
Revenge fantasies were a normal part of healing when people began to confront memories of abuse, abuse of any kind. One question lingered. If they tried to kill him, why the Well?
She halted her automatic task with a book in her hand. Kim and Crystal both called him “the blood sucker.” Oh! They didn’t throw him in the Well to drown. They threw him in the Well for the leeches.
***
At lunch time, Allie worked to assimilate all that had happened in the past few days. The person or persons who had thrown Upshall in the Well, those she suspected or someone unknown to her, believed it a just end, a punishment suited to his crimes. What strange quirk of fate had involved her in that, brought her there to save him, a person she would have been glad to consign to the tortures of Hell?
She remembered the eerie directive from years ago that had urged her to go 'up and over the Mogollon Rim.' Why, to rescue that miserable excuse for a human? She couldn’t believe that. Then she considered the text of the I Ching, '...a positive misfortune.' Maybe it wasn’t that she had saved a man who didn’t deserve saving. Maybe she had saved a client from committing murder.
No matter who had tried to kill Upshall, Allie knew that if Crystal found out the part she had played in rescuing him, their therapeutic relationship might end.
She walked down the hall to Betty’s office, hoping to find her there. Betty sat at her desk, going through handouts for a therapy group.
“Have a minute, Betty?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“Do you believe in karma?”
Betty pushed her chair away from the desk and turned to face Allie, who had seated herself on the clients’ sofa.
“I’m not sure. That could mean anything from 'what goes around comes around' to the belief that souls begin in rocks and work their way upward, life after life, to angel status. It’s called the transmigration of souls.”
“Some people reduce the theory to the most simplistic ideas, like they did in that silly TV show a few years back. You know, like if you harm someone, bad luck immediately besets you until you go back to the person and somehow undo it. Instant karma I’d call that, if it’s karma at all.”
“Hum. More like the workings of a Twelve Step program. More like 'making amends' than my idea of karma. I guess most people who believe in karma also believe in reincarnation, that the soul is on a learning curve and karma is just a natural part of it, a law of existence. It’s not punishment or reward although people might feel that way about it.”
“That’s what I think, too. I think if someone sets out to be an instrument of karma, they’re taking on more than the law allows, natural or spiritual law as well as human law.
“Maybe. Now would you share with me the reason we’re having this deep philosophical discussion today?”
“Can't tell you much except that one of my clients believes she’s an instrument of karma and I believe she may be looking for revenge.”
“Not against you, I hope.”
“I don’t think so. I know you have group in just a few minutes, Betty. I won’t bother you any more.”
***
The session was going well.
“I’m glad you’re writing down your dreams. If you stick with it, when you read them over in a few months or a year, you’ll see how valuable they are.”
Al
lie said, “I started reading that book you recommended and so far I like it. I’m using dream analysis with some of my own clients. It’s a revelation for some.” She hesitated. “Um, speaking of dreams, what would you say if a man tells a woman he had an X-rated dream about her?”
“I’d say he has poor boundaries or he’s deliberately being provocative.”
“Oh. By the way, I had an interesting dream about my ex-husband the other night, and when I thought about it...I’ve been thinking about him a lot since I got that letter. Maybe obsessing would be a better description. What came to me after the dream is, at last, over.”
“Hasn’t it been over for about five years now?”
“Technically speaking. Somehow, because he kept writing to me and talking about getting back together, it hadn’t ended. What I realized is that because he hadn’t accepted that it’s over, I hadn’t accepted it a hundred percent, either. So I hadn’t grieved.”
“That is an epiphany. But you left him, right?”
“I’m not questioning what I did. Still, the marriage wasn’t all bad and he certainly wasn’t all bad. It was a loss I hadn’t admitted to myself.”
“How so?”
“You know, when you’re young and naive and you think about marriage, you build a pyramid of dreams with the power of hope. The cap stone of the pyramid is that it will last forever, 'til death do us part.' When the pyramid topples, you look at the wreckage and if you’re honest, you mourn. It’s not just what you lost, it’s that a failure like that weakens your capacity to hope and dream again.”
“So you’ve been grieving?”
“Not too much.” They exchanged smiles.
“Allie, it sounds to me as if you’ve been doing some real, honest introspection.”
“I have to practice what I preach, don’t I?”
“Which is why I’m glad you were finally able to talk to me about the sexual abuse by that neighbor of yours when you were a child. Working through that is something you needed to do for yourself but also for your clients. Unresolved issues can create real problems with counter-transference.”
The Well - Book One of the Arizona Thriller Trilogy Page 15