by M. J. Labeff
“Hmm. I think you should take a look at what’s in the box. Something here doesn’t add up.”
Chapter 22
Sparrow regarded the folded corners of the sealed box with caution. Dana’s handwriting stared up at her: FOR SPARROW. What would Dana have stowed away that had anything to do with her? She squatted down, picked up one of the yoga mats, and unrolled the thick plastic with a snap against the tile floor. There was nothing unusual about it, except for the fact that it wasn’t hers. She rolled it back up, knowing that Derrick and Tony watched her every move.
“I don’t ever remember taking a yoga mat to Dana’s, but it can’t hurt to look. I could have forgotten.”
“Take your time. This could be important,” Tony replied. “Derrick, I appreciate your honesty about the beach party and what happened with Dana and Jessica. Dana was a chick magnet.” Tony blew out his breath. “What Dana did to her…”
Derrick finished his sentence: “He forced himself on her. I don’t get why. He could have had any girl, but he didn’t take rejection well.”
“I’m no psychologist, and I hate to say this, but it sounds like my brother got off on sexual submission.”
Grateful the two men had turned their attention from her, Sparrow rolled out another yoga mat, still puzzled as to why Dana had them. When she finished looking at the third and final mat, she reached for the box and peeled back the thick, clear line of packing tape sealing the four corners. She knelt down and settled back against her folded legs, pulling the box between her splayed knees.
Tony and Derrick sent their dining room chairs squealing across the tile floor, getting to their feet. Her head snapped in their direction, taking in the intense look on their faces and in their eyes. They hovered over her, waiting and watching. If she had to guess why they’d both found it necessary to observe her, she figured Derrick wanted to offer her emotional support, and Tony wanted to capture the look on her face to determine her guilt or innocence in connection to the box and Dana.
With a shaky hand, she pulled the box corners away from each other and forced them down. She peered into the contents. A stack of magazines filled the box. She rolled her eyes up at Tony and shrugged her shoulders. “What is this stuff?” she asked. “So Dana subscribed to magazines. What does that have to do with me?”
“Take a closer look,” Tony said. “There’s got to be a connection. I’m hoping you can explain.”
Reaching into the box, she took out the magazine on top, Psychology Today. The word psychology had been partially blackened out so it read Psycho. Her father subscribed to the same magazine. A lump rose up in her throat, and her heart throbbed against her chest. Her mouth went dry. She found it nearly impossible to speak. She refused to acknowledge Derrick or Tony, and continued to remove magazine after magazine from the box. Sheets of paper had been crammed between the pages. She shuddered to think about reading Dana’s private thoughts.
She forced saliva from her glands and swallowed, trying to moisten her throat to speak. Her hand ran across the partially voided magazine name. She searched for her father’s name on the cover. “Dana was an armchair psychologist? I don’t know. I-I don’t understand. I don’t know why Dana left this for me.”
“I found this in the bottom of one of Dana’s dresser drawers. Better take a look.” Tony removed what looked like a folded magazine page from his back pocket and handed it to her.
Derrick and Tony towered over her, shrouding her in unease. Instinct told her Tony had an agenda. Considering Derrick’s suspicions regarding her father’s treatment methods, if Tony had a similar point to prove, she assumed Derrick would be quick to agree.
Sparrow stood from her kneeling position on the hard tile floor and took the glossy paper from Tony’s hand. She unfolded the article. Derrick came up behind her and peered over her shoulder, reading the headline with her. He wrapped his arm around her back. His hand rested on her shoulder. She anticipated his reaction and wanted to recoil from his touch.
“‘Girls and Boys, Interrupted.’ I read this article online. It talks about some of your dad’s treatment methods, and there’s a quote from a patient.”
“Sparrow…” Tony’s eyes homed in on her. Sparrow’s body flushed with heat from his glaring eyes, and her moist hands left fingerprints where she’d held the article that now dangled at her side. “Was Dana ever a patient of your father’s?”
“There is such a thing called doctor-patient confidentiality. Do you think my father came home at night and discussed his patients at the dinner table? Besides, my father specializes in adolescents, not adults.”
“My point precisely. Look at the dates on those magazines,” Tony said. “Dana has kept them for years. It had me drawing the conclusion that Dr. Von Langley had treated him.”
“And that would have been a bad thing?” Sparrow asked. She balled her hands into fists. The magazine article crinkled at her side. “I’m not sure what you’re grasping at, Tony. I understand logically why you would have brought this stuff to me, since he wrote my name on the box top, but he never mentioned to me whether or not he’d been a patient of my father’s. Actually, I find all of this rather disturbing.”
She looked from Tony to the yoga mats and a strange chill shimmied up her spine. Dana had criticized her for being like her father on numerous occasions when they argued. He called her stupid for believing she could solve everything with yoga, relaxation techniques, and meditation, and told her she didn’t know anything about the real world. Obviously, he didn’t like her father, but he didn’t seem to mind visiting them occasionally. He always acted more affectionately toward her in her father’s presence, holding her hand, leaning over to kiss her, caressing her shoulders.
“Sparrow, I think we should go through the articles and try to help Tony make sense of things,” Derrick said. “It’s possible Dana was a patient of your father’s, and he was self-diagnosing as an adult.”
She slipped out of his hooked arm and deliberately turned to face him, furious he had suggested she help them investigate her father and whatever relationship he had with Dana. Tony’s eyes remained fixed on her. She had the sinking suspicion he had already formed some sort of theory, and he wasn’t telling her or Derrick the entire truth about what he’d found in Dana’s house.
“Thanks, Derrick, I’m glad you’re on board. I figure with your medical expertise and my detective work, we can figure out how Dana spent his final days.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
Her fists tightened. “Excuse me, but neither of you has bothered to ask me how I feel about nosing around in Dana’s private life.”
“Well, I was hoping you could talk to your father,” Tony said. “You admitted Dana had an unusual sexual appetite. He attacked a girl as a teenager, and after going through his personal belongings, I have reason to believe…”
Just like she had suspected, there was more to the story. She couldn’t believe what he was asking of her. Her wide eyes forced her eyebrows high into her forehead. Are you kidding me? She stared at him, determined to make him uncomfortable. She succeeded when Tony turned his back to them. He clasped his hands behind his neck and rested his head against them.
“Dana was involved in some strange sexual behaviors. I’d rather not discuss the details now. I’m trying to look into things quietly. That’s why I need your help. Maybe your dad knows something.”
A smirk settled around her mouth. “He doesn’t talk about his patients. Dead or alive. I’m sorry, but I think you should go.”
She walked to the front door and pulled it open. “Just think about it, Sparrow. I didn’t mean to upset you, but your dad might be able to shed some light on Dana’s suicide. I’m leaving the box. Maybe something will jar your memory. Anything might help. See ya around, Derrick.”
“We’ll be in touch,” Derrick replied.
Since when did he and she become we? What gave Derrick the right to declare them a couple and start making decisions for her? Her patience reac
hed the breaking point. She forced a deep inhale and exhale of breath from between gritted teeth before she turned around to face him. She leaned against the open door and waited for Tony to exit.
“Are you okay?” Derrick asked, placing his hands on the tops of her shoulders.
“Well, it’s not every day I have people confronting and questioning me about my father. How do you think I am?”
“I can only imagine.” His hands slid down her arms, clutching her wrists. She firmly held on to the doorknob. He tried to coax the magazine article from her right hand, but she refused to it let go. She shook her wrists free from his grip.
“Weren’t you leaving before Tony unexpectedly stopped by?”
He stepped back from her with wide eyes. “I thought we could talk. I wasn’t being fair when you tried to explain about calling me Dana.”
“Again, I wasn’t calling you Dana. I told you I was simply thinking about him. There’s a difference.”
“I understand that now.”
She took a step toward Derrick, tossing the magazine article down on the dining room table. She gave the box a kick. Normally she behaved more rationally, but everyone had her limit.
“Oh, you do? Is that because Tony came over here and exploited my sex life with Dana?” He winced at the words sex life. She liked getting a rise out of him, having intentionally chosen those words rather than private life. “I don’t need your pity.”
His brown eyes flashed a combination of anger and frustration. “I don’t pity you. I care about you and what that monster put you through. Maybe if I had said something to someone about the night he attacked Jessica, he wouldn’t have had the chance to become some sort of sexual deviant.”
She threw her hands up in the air. “So this is about your guilt and you redeeming yourself? That monster was your friend.”
“Was being the operative word, and I’m not even going to justify your first comment with an answer. Obviously, you’re angry.”
Damn right she was angry. She wasn’t going to let him or Tony push her into talking to her Dad. Tony’s visit had dredged up unpleasant memories of how Dana had pushed her around and threatened her with his menacing, glacial blue eyes and clenched fists. She wasn’t about to let it happen again. Derrick would not bully her.
For years she had followed her father’s orders, and then she had fallen in love with Dana, who told her what to do and how to do it. Her days of trying to meet any man’s expectations ended here and now. She wouldn’t allow her feelings for Derrick sabotage her into doing what she thought he wanted.
Besides, a schoolgirl crush turned reality didn’t equal love. She needed to think with her head more and her heart less. She thought about what Derrick had pointed out to her. Their first time together had ended in disaster.
“Look, Derrick, I don’t know what you want from me.” She paused, and then opened her mouth to continue, but he took her question literally and started to answer. She pulled her lips together, allowing him to plow on.
“I want you to let me help you. We should go through these magazines and whatever else is in that box and figure out why Dana was so fascinated with your father. I’m no psychologist, but my limited knowledge in that area, coupled with being a medical doctor, and your extensive background in yoga and meditation could lead us in the right direction to find the connection between Dana and him.” He paused, and then added, “If there even was one.”
Not exactly the response she expected from him. A more appropriate answer could have been “I care for you,” or “I’m concerned about you,” or, better yet, “I’m sorry Tony is trying to persecute your father; how can I help?” Derrick, like Tony, was eager to draw out some sordid conclusion about Dana’s life and blame her father. Why?
Tony needed to find answers about his brother’s life and death, and she understood that. He wanted closure, and he wanted to blame someone else for his brother’s suicide. She knew who could take that credit, and it wasn’t her father.
“Derrick, you should go. I don’t want to go through Dana’s things or discuss him with you. I think we need to put some distance between us before one of us says something we regret.”
“Sparrow, I don’t want to leave you. You’ve been through a lot over the last few days.” His cell phone rang. He looked down at the display. “I have to take this.”
When he ended the call, the decision about leaving had been made for him. “I’ve got to go home. They’re dropping off the RV.”
A glint of happiness brightened his distraught eyes. He could resume his regular work schedule tonight. Work came first with him—not that she expected him to return tonight, or even wanted him to. Or did she? In the short time they’d dated, she learned she came second. Her heart squeezed. She wouldn’t see him on her front doorstep tonight begging to work out their differences.
What kind of a relationship could she possibly have with him? He was hardly boyfriend material, and would make a lousy husband. Derrick was a workaholic. He would ignore her much like her father had her mother.
Her schoolgirl crush had dragged her down the road to a fantasy where she married Derrick, and they had two beautiful children and lived happily ever after. What a joke. She had grown up in suburbia and knew better.
“I’ve got to go, but this conversation is far from over.”
If memory served her, she had asked him to leave. His ego was getting the best of him. She didn’t appreciate him assuming she wanted to talk about how they could implicate her father in Dana’s suicide or tarnish his spotless record as a doctor, if he had even treated Dana. She shook her head, thinking her father would have to answer to the medical review board over heinous accusations made by a grieving brother and overzealous doctor who were both guilty of abandoning Dana, a deviant man.
His eyes softened. “Don’t do this. Don’t leave things this way.”
She had no other choice. “Better go. Those kids depend on you.”
She walked to the opposite end of the table, putting the large piece of furniture between them. The front door remained open, and he had a straight shot from where he was standing to it. Her heart hated to see him go without holding her and kissing her one last time, but her head told her to watch him walk out the door.
The door clicked shut and tears welled in her eyes. Probably for the best. Two strong-willed people like her and Derrick were doomed from the start.
Now she needed to convince her heart of what her head already knew. But she was too late. She was in love with him. The rush of the last couple of days had overwhelmed her, moving her from times of sadness to real bliss. The roller coaster of emotions came fast and strong. She desperately wanted to believe she had rushed into things with Derrick in hot pursuit of her schoolgirl crush. Her tears splattered on top of the glass table. She flicked the water droplets, making riverbeds with her tears. She sobbed. Her body rocked with the release of her tantrum. She cried over Derrick and the way things ended with them. She cried over the loss of Dana and her role in his death. She cried for her dad and what she feared most.
Her nose dribbled, forcing her to get up for some tissues. After drying her nose and eyes, she went to the kitchen and filled the teakettle with cold water. She turned the knob on the gas stovetop, clicking on the orange and blue flame. To ease her aching heart, she decided crying into a cup of warm tea would be soothing. While the water heated, she opened the cupboard next to the stove and squinted through watery eyes at the assortment of flavored teas. She selected an herbal blend infused with calming remedies and berries rich in antioxidants. The teakettle whistled. She dropped the tea bag into the bottom of her favorite mug and poured the steaming water over it. The liquid bubbled like her conflicted emotions.
Miserable, she indulged in a piece of extra-dark chocolate. She broke off a serving size from the bar. The rich chocolate melted in her mouth. Before temptation took over, she wrapped the bar, shoved it to the back of the highest cupboard, and shut the cabinet door.
Her cup
of tea steeped, and she headed back to the dining room, taking a seat at the dining room table. The torn article rested in front of her. She sipped her tea, realizing she’d managed to stop crying, and opened the folded magazine page. She stared down at the headline. The words Derrick had said to Tony repeated in her head: We’ll be in touch. Her eyes misted. He’d declared them a couple at an inopportune time. Had he done it to serve his own interests?
She wouldn’t betray her father, but her curiosity stirred over the contents of the box. Not that she expected to find anything incriminating. The calming effect of the tea put her mind at ease, and she decided no harm would come if she took a closer look. Besides, Detective Tony Sargent would not have left it in her possession if a real crime had been committed. She’d overreacted. Perhaps Tony believed Dana had a serious condition stemming from his adolescence, and if her father had treated him, maybe Tony wanted some sort of reassurance concerning his brother’s suicide. Obviously, he had learned something about Dana that shook him to his core. She doubted this implicated her father negatively. Tony needed closure.
She gulped more tea and then dragged the box from the tiled floor in the dining room to the carpeted floor in the living room. Seated in the lotus position, she reached into the box and removed the magazines and bits of paper Dana had taken notes on. She looked down at his handwriting and an eerie chill slinked up her spine. She found it absurd that Tony had expected her to pore over these magazines and Dana’s notes. She couldn’t imagine what else she might find. Why was Tony having her play detective when that was his job? He hadn’t tapped her as an expert or authority. Not that he had admitted to building an actual case against her father, but that seemed a logical motive.
Placing her hands on the floor behind her, she uncrossed her legs and got to her feet. She stared down into the box and started to take out the remainder of magazines, careful to keep the notebook pages Dana had inserted into the various magazines intact. She would have to read all of the articles involving her father, cross-reference Dana’s notes, and try to make sense of it all.