“No.” She pushed back her chair and stood. “I lost one sight and gained another. If I lose my connection with those children, who will help them?”
“I asked Dr. Bhatti about the way your psychic ability changed. He’s heard of cases where someone has gained extra sensory abilities after a head injury.”
Her shoulders relaxed somewhat. “Do you believe me?”
“Do I believe you have a connection with Phaedra Burns? Maybe. Do I believe your theory of who has her? No.” The cost of believing her was too high.
“But you’re checking into it, right? Because you have to explore every possibility.”
His mouth quirked at her use of his earlier words. “Exactly.”
“I want to go home. Where’s Stasia?”
“I’ll take you to her.”
She had to let him slide his arm beneath hers to guide her back through the station. She wasn’t happy about it by the stiff way she walked and the way she avoided any but necessary contact.
As soon as Stasia saw Olivia, she barked, probably letting her know where she was. Detective Holland had volunteered to watch the dog. He kept pictures of his two Rottweiler beasts on his desk like other cops kept pictures of their children. As far as they knew, that was all the family he had. He untied the leash, but Stasia didn’t wait to be led to Olivia. She ran and put her paws against Olivia’s legs. Olivia knelt down and pressed her cheek against Stasia’s cheek. Max watched them for a moment, then looked up to catch Sam watching him.
Sam said, “I asked John to take Miss Howe home so we can get back to work.”
Max only nodded. Protesting would be a bad thing, even though he wanted to do just that. He wanted some time alone with her, to explain the handling comment and to make sure she was all right. Of course, she would interpret that as a protective gesture, and he was fairly certain that’s not what it was at all.
John Holland introduced himself and led Olivia from the area. Max turned back to Sam. “I just found out where Sebastian LaForge works on his sculptures. It’s a storage area about thirty minutes from here. Let’s check it out.”
“Don’t tell me you think Olivia and Sebastian are working together?”
“No, but LaForge is a link to the Burnses, and he has a facility”—he caught himself saying like the one Olivia’s been seeing—”that could house an abducted child. I think it’s something to check out, and it’s better than sitting here pulling our hair out.” He looked at the clock. Where was the time going? He grabbed up his keys and a new pair of sunglasses. “I’ve got the records being pulled on every missing child case in both Palomera and Sarasota.”
Sam followed him to the door. “You think this guy has taken other kids?”
“The more I think about how good he was at getting that girl out of the store without anyone seeing him, the more I think he’s too good. Since we’re hitting dead ends with the family and Olivia, we need to start broadening the search.”
Lieutenant Huntington was watching him through the open blinds in his office window. Had Sam told him about the withheld information yet? A few of the detectives were watching him, too. Everyone seemed to know about the case. Was he just imagining that they were all waiting for him to go under?
Detective Holland’s low, soft voice had an almost eerie quality to it, though he’d said little beyond what was necessary. Otherwise, he murmured to himself as he drove through traffic. When he stopped at her building, he leaned past her and opened the door. “Be careful, Ms. Howe.”
“Careful?” That was an odd parting phrase.
“It’s a dangerous world out there, especially for a blind woman.”
“Thanks for the warning.” She guided Stasia out and quickly followed. “And the ride.” It was only after she heard him drive away that she realized he hadn’t asked her where she lived.
Once again, she took stock of her apartment, Holland’s warning still echoing in her head. She released Stasia from her harness and went directly to the phone. What Max had told her … it was impossible, of course. Information gave her Dr. Bhatti’s number, and his answering service took her message.
He called ten minutes later. “I thought I might be hearing from you soon. I hope I wasn’t overstepping my bounds by talking to the detective. He said he wanted to clear you of suspicion.”
Max was a cop, first and foremost. His priority was finding Phaedra and so was hers. That he had betrayed her by doubting her sight shouldn’t bother her so much. But it did.
Dr. Bhatti confirmed what Max had said. He chose his words carefully, as Max had done. “He wasn’t supposed to just tell you.”
“The other detective accused me of faking my blindness. Max—Detective Callahan walked in and told me about conversion disorder. If this is true … am I crazy?”
“No, you’re not crazy. It is a survival instinct. We all do it to some extent. For instance, say there is a dinner party you absolutely don’t want to attend but feel obligated to. To avoid the party, you get a stomachache, and darn, you cannot go. The difference between that and conversion disorder is that the former person is aware that the impending situation is the cause of the sickness.”
“Detective Callahan said the kidnapping triggered the blindness, but another factor caused it to stay.”
“This is the question I ask my patients: by being blind, what did you get out of that you hated doing or having done to you? Labor? Physical or emotional abuse?”
“Beauty pageants.”
“Pardon?”
“My mother made me enter beauty pageants. I hated them.” If she had stopped doing them on her own, she was as sure as a child can be that her mother wouldn’t love her anymore.
Dr. Bhatti said, “She did not want to accept what I told her. Her question was the same as yours: was her child crazy? I assured her this was not the case, but that psychotherapy was essential. She did not like that, but she promised to think about it. Now that I am looking at the case notes, I see that I followed up with her a week later. She told me she was taking you for therapy.”
“I was seeing a psychiatrist to help me deal with the trauma of the kidnapping. But we didn’t talk about the blindness or anything else relating to it, other than coping with it. I don’t remember having trouble with that, though.”
“No, you would have easily accepted it. That’s what conversion disorder sufferers do.”
“Are you sure? About the diagnosis, I mean.”
“Yes. I ran a full battery of tests on your eyes; there was nothing physically wrong with them. All the factors indicated conversion disorder.”
“It’s”—she wanted to say crazy again—”incredible. I can’t get my mind around it.”
“You’ll likely need to talk to a mental health specialist familiar with this diagnosis. I can give you a couple of names.” As she typed the information into Louis with shaky fingers, she remembered Max’s final question: Did she want to see again? The darkness had been a comfortable place for so long, she wasn’t sure she did.
“Could I see again if I got psychotherapy?”
A pause. “If you didn’t use your arm for sixteen years, and one day you decided to use your arm, I doubt that you could. Your muscles aren’t conditioned to move, and your mind is no longer conditioned to receive signals. Is it possible? Yes, anything is possible in the realm of medicine. Is it probable? I’m afraid not.”
She swallowed hard. “I need some time to digest this.”
“Yes, of course. Please see someone to help you, as you said, get your mind around it. This is a traumatic revelation, especially when presented the way it was. If you want to meet with me, make an appointment with my office. I’ll make sure you get in right away.”
“Thank you for calling me back so soon, Dr. Bhatti. And for being honest.”
She took a deep breath after she’d hung up the phone. Elaine had blamed her for the kidnapping. After all, she’d been hiding, giving that madman the opportunity to take her. Olivia had accepted that blame, an
d neither had ever really talked about it. Even when Elaine was dying, she wouldn’t discuss it. She only wanted to talk about the good things, like the beauty pageants, the glory days. Olivia had gone along with her because—well, because she was dying.
When the phone rang a few minutes later, she knew it was Max. Her fingers went around the handset, but she didn’t press the button. Her answering machine kicked in, and she heard his voice. “Olivia, it’s Max. I know I dumped a lot on you. I wanted to make sure you were all right. I’m sorry it came out the way it did.”
She remained there, holding the handset and letting his voice echo in her head after he’d hung up.
“Snap out of it.” She turned to where she sensed Stasia was. “What should we have for dinner, girl? A package of Oreos is sounding pretty good about now.” She scooped canned dog food into Stasia’s bowl and placed a vanilla Oreo on top. Then she poured a glass of milk and sat down to a unhealthy dinner she totally deserved.
As it turned out, Sebastian was happy to show Max and Sam around his “genesis of art” workshop. It was a clean, immense warehouse. He and a few of his friends were working that evening when Max and Sam just “happened” by. Olivia wasn’t among those friends, though her one try at sculpture was: a warped clay person. Max didn’t like the image of her and Sebastian working on that together, but he didn’t delve into exactly why.
Afterward, he and Sam walked around the rest of the warehouses and found nothing out of the ordinary. They’d returned to the station to pick up the case files that had been dug up so far and went their separate ways. Max was on his way to the Chinese restaurant for some to-go food when he passed the library. He found himself pulling into the parking lot and walking inside. He took the newspaper film from a long-ago December and inserted it into the reading machine.
Olivia’s face flashed by, and he backed up. He printed out the pages that covered her disappearance and recovery. After returning the film to the drawer, he paid for the copies and headed out. At the restaurant, he decided on the spicy version of General Tsao’s chicken. It was going to be a long night.
It would be a longer night for Phaedra.
After dinner, Olivia harnessed Stasia and they walked out into the hallway. As soon as she locked her door, she got a strong whiff of Polo. Had Terry dumped more cologne on the carpet?
Someone pushed her against the door. Before she could even react or scream, a mouth covered hers. She shoved him back and kicked him in the shin. “Terry, stop it! God, you scared me!”
“Ouch, dammit. Olivia, I’m going crazy here. Let me move back in. I know something’s going on. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, all I do is think about you. Why was a cop here yesterday? Does it have to do with the missing girl? Of course, it does.” He moved closer and cradled her face in his big hands. “Let me take care of you, baby. You don’t have to face this alone.”
Tears pricked the back of her eyes. After facing her connection alone for so long, after being shunned by the few men she’d dated because of it, the thought of having someone to face it with would be a treasure. But not Terry. He didn’t want to understand it; he just wanted to use it as a way to get closer to her.
A door down the hall opened, and voices filled the air. “Do you have everything?” a man asked.
“I think so,” a woman said, though she didn’t sound sure at all. “Are you sure your mother will have a curling iron?”
“She’s got every hair implement known to man. Or woman, I should say.” Luggage wheels squeaked as they rolled across the carpet. “You have the tickets, right?”
“Of course,” she said as they rounded the corner to the elevator. A minute later, the car dinged as it arrived, and then it was quiet again.
“If you really didn’t love me,” Terry said, “you’d have screamed your head off. You’d have me arrested. But you don’t. You’ve probably never even reported that I’ve come over or called you.”
He was right. She said, “I was hoping the no contact order would make a point. I thought you’d get the hint and leave me alone. I never actually wanted you to be arrested.”
“Because you love me.”
“I don’t love you. I don’t even like you anymore. And you wouldn’t like me if you knew the kind of woman I really am.”
“And what kind is that? Look, if you were a man before, I’m okay with that. I mean, all your parts work now.”
She slapped her hand over her face in disbelief. “It’s over, Terry. You have to accept that. No more coming around here, no more calling me.”
“Dammit, Olivia, you’re messing up my timetable.”
“What timetable?”
“By this time next year, I’m going to be playing football again, and you’re going to be my wife and at least a couple months pregnant. Well, unless you were a guy. I don’t think medical science can do that yet.”
Hysterical laughter bubbled in her throat, but her anger pushed it down. “What about what I want?”
“You don’t know what you want.”
“I don’t want to be your wife, I know that. I don’t want to see you again. I do know what you want: whatever it is you can’t have. But that’s not going to change the outcome. Save yourself a lot of hassle and let me go. Use the energy for football.”
His voice was low when he said, “You’d save me a lot of hassle by coming back to me now. But if this is how you want to play it, then I’ll play your game.” He was walking backward as he spoke. “And I’m good at playing games, Olivia. Remember that.”
She waited until the stairwell door closed behind him. The echo of his footsteps and the door opening on the first floor finally allowed her to release her breath. She didn’t need this, not now.
When she walked out the front door of her building a couple of minutes later, she wondered if he was waiting there for her, intending to follow her. She thought of the person who had touched her earlier, of the things that had been changed in her apartment. She didn’t need someone to protect her, dammit. Not Terry, and not Max.
Max. Her mouth tightened, and anger flushed her cheeks. She hoped he never came around again. She had started to see him as an ally of sorts.
And more.
He probably did think she was crazy. He would never believe anything more she said, and Phaedra would…
Don’t think it!
Max would find her with or without her help.
Once at the park, she let Stasia loose and sank onto the bench. O’Reilly had accused Max of falling for her. She didn’t like the way that accusation tickled through her body, not when getting involved with him was the last thing she wanted. Certainly the last thing she needed. Their relationship was already too complicated, and they weren’t even technically in a relationship!
An ominous feeling coursed through her. It wasn’t fear that pulled Olivia to Phaedra this time. It was hunger and the agony of decision.
He’d starved her all day, giving her only a glass of juice in the morning. Then he’d returned bearing a plate of yummy, fried chicken. He’d set that plate in front of her and told her not to eat it. Why had he been so mean?
So hungry. Dizzy from it. He’d left her there to wrestle over feeding her hunger and disobeying him. She kept looking at the door, waiting for him to return. Her stomach ached with hunger, making her curl in on herself.
Have to eat.
She reached through the bars and grabbed a drumstick. Just one little drumstick. She’d hide the evidence. Oh, it was good, cold or not. But it was gone so fast, and she was still so hungry. Two more pieces sat there on the plate, and she couldn’t resist them any longer. He’d know anyway. It was already too late. He knew how many pieces he’d left. She’d take the punishment. At least she’d have food in her tummy.
When she licked the crumbs from her fingers, she heard the door opening.
Too late. And now the price for disobeying seemed larger than her hunger had been.
“Hello, Rose.”
The light was behind him
, as usual, though she could see the shadows of his face. “You disobeyed me.” A disappointed voice. An angry voice. “You disobeyed me, Rose.”
“I was starving.”
“That doesn’t matter. I told you not to eat. What matters is that you disobeyed me.” His voice grew louder with every word, echoing like thunder. “And now you’re going to pay for it.”
He unlocked the cage and grabbed her arm. As much as she hated being in that cage, being torn out of it was even worse. At least she knew what was in the cage, and she was safe from him.
“Don’t fight me, Rose. You’ll never win.”
Helplessness overcame her fight, and she let him drag her the rest of the way out of the cage. “Do you know what happens to bad girls who don’t listen? Who eat things they’re not supposed to eat?” He pulled out a small, thin bottle. Tabasco sauce, like her daddy put on his eggs. “Open your mouth, Rose.”
“I’m not Rose,” she said in a squeaky voice.
“Open your mouth!”
When she still didn’t open up, he stuck his fingers in and forced it open. “I’ll pour it down your nose if you don’t leave your mouth open.”
Be brave, she told herself. Like when the boys in the neighborhood try to scare you.
The pungent odor of the sauce burned her nostrils. Then the sauce squirted inside her mouth. She closed her eyes and swallowed when she had to. It burned down her throat and made her eyes and nose water. He tossed the bottle aside but still had a hold on her arm.
“Don’t ever disobey me again, Rose. It’s a war between us, isn’t it? You against me, ever since you were a baby. I’m tired of being the bad guy. I’m a good father. But how can I be good when you’re so bad?”
She didn’t know how to answer that.
“You haven’t called me Father yet today. I want to hear you say it, Rose.”
She shook her head, knowing she would have to give in. He squeezed her arm even harder.
“Father,” she said on a raspy breath. And then her stomach heaved.
Blindsight [Now You See Me] (Romantic Suspense) Page 19