Fear and humiliation stab through Abby’s chest. “I’d be willing to do that if…if it would stop him from…”
“Abby…” Rhonda’s hand between her shoulder blades is soothing, but it’s also the note of compassion that brings Abby to tears. “I can’t promise you anything, but someone is out of line here. The notes on those gifts are definitely inappropriate, and that last gift is downright cruel.”
Tears sting Abby’s eyes. “But we have no proof that Dr. Jump gave them to me.”
“No, child, we don’t.”
Abby’s face drops into her palms as tears run down her cheeks. What can she do?
“When you’re ready to make the complaint, I’ll be here for you,” Rhonda says.
Abby nods as, down the corridor, the security door buzzes. Its irony is not lost on her.
We work so hard to keep the unstable people under lock and key, and the most menacing lunatic of all has all the freedom in the world. All the freedom and power to terrify.
“Valentine’s Day is such a bitch,” Suz says as she steps closer to the netting of the playland, keeping an eye on Sofia, who is collecting balls and tossing them back into the pit. “When you’re single, you’re a loser because you don’t have a sweetheart. When you’re a widow, your heart is cracked in two. Scott always said it was a holiday created by Hallmark to increase card sales, and now I’m starting to buy into his cynicism.”
Abby nods glumly.
“Would you talk about it already?”
And so she tells her. Beginning with the way Jump started edging into her home and finishing with the Secret Cupid gift she received today, Abby tells Suz how Charles Jump has preyed on her, physically abused her, terrorized her. When she finishes, Suz is clutching Abby’s hand, her eyes glittering with tears.
“That bastard! He probably killed your husband and…and nearly raped you. The monster!”
“Nearly being the operative word.”
“The man tried to hump you like a dog,” Suz growls between her teeth. “And don’t you feel a wink of guilt, because he’s an animal. Someone has got to stop him. Have you reported him?”
“I spoke with my supervisor about him, but she sort of warned me not to make any waves. He’s a popular guy at work, and his position certainly trumps mine. With his power, his charisma, people are going to take his word over mine.”
“I don’t care if he founded the damned hospital and cured the blind. A psycho is a psycho. Where I come from, your father would be hunting him down with a shotgun and running his ass out of town.”
Abby lets out a laugh. “My father doesn’t own a gun. And do you really think violence is the answer?”
“With an animal like that? Absolutely!” Suz bends down to roll two balls over to her daughter. “There you go, pumpkin.”
Abby scrapes back her hair, taking a breath. “I need to stay objective. I mean, I need to separate what I know and what I suspect.”
“The police can figure this out. You need to report him, Abby.”
“And what would they investigate? A few menacing notes left by an anonymous Cupid? Real-life police departments don’t operate the way detectives do on television. No one is going to try and lift fingerprints from a couple of sick love notes. In real life, the police act after a clear-cut crime has been committed.”
“Well, I don’t want to wait until this psycho goes over the line. I’m very worried about you, Abby. You’ve got to get yourself out of that internship and away from him.”
“But I can’t leave the program now. Besides, I promised John I would finish.”
“Yeah, well, I promised myself I’d never take my daughter to one of these indoor playgrounds.” Suz squats down to shag some balls before they roll out of the play area. “And here I am.”
“I’m being practical. I can’t transfer at this point without losing major credits. Besides, I think I’m really helping my clients. Especially Emjay.” It’s not ethical to discuss the details of his therapy, but Abby worries over what would happen if she left and Dr. Jump reinstated the mind-numbing dosage of tranquilizers he’s been on.
“So if you’re not going to back off, we’ve got to find a way to take that sucker down.” Suz tosses a squishy ball into the air and catches it with a snap of the wrist. “A monster like this doesn’t just rear his ugly head out of nowhere. He’s got to have a history. Let’s get Flint on him, find out his background.”
Abby bites her lower lip. “Flint and I aren’t exactly talking. He came over a few weeks ago and we got a little short with each other. I think he was jealous of Jump. He blew a gasket when he saw Jump’s laundry spread out in my living room.”
“Good instincts. I always liked that guy.”
“Then I got testy with him when he smashed a photo of Jump and John.” Abby pauses. “At least I thought Flint smashed it. It was that weird period when the heat kept going off in the house.”
“Oh, right around Christmas.” Suz nods. “John showing his disapproval by freezing Jump out.”
“I didn’t believe that at the time, but if it’s true, then John had some astute insights about Jump.”
“Ya-ha. I say you mend your friggin’ fences with Flint and get him investigating Jump’s sorry ass.”
Abby can tell Suz is mad because her language has gone to hell. “I can’t call Flint. He’s got a life of his own, a job that consumes him.”
“Suit yourself. But you and I are going to get cracking on investigating the sordid past of Charles Jump.”
At the informal staff meeting the next morning, laughter and wisecracks abound as people discover the identity of their Secret Cupid. When Rhonda opens the Beyoncé CD and discovers that her Secret Cupid is Abby, she throws her arms in the air and gives her a huge hug.
“How’d you know I liked Beyoncé and hazelnut coffee?” Rhonda demands.
“I’m a good listener.”
“Thank you so much.” Leaning close for another hug, Rhonda whispers: “He’s not here, is he?”
Abby shakes her head. “The coast is clear.”
“Well, I’m here when you need me. Here drinking my coffee and listening to Beyoncé. I’m going to have the whole Day Room singing along by lunchtime.”
“Eighteen minutes till Getaway Friday.” Lizzy double-checks her watch, scribbles something on a chart, then tosses her pen onto the counter. “Not that I’m counting or anything.”
“Got plans?” Abby asks.
“That’s why I switched shifts.” An intern in the same program as Abby, Lizzy usually works evenings. “My boyfriend is taking me to Seattle for a fabulous dinner, then we’re staying overnight in that hotel on the bay. The Edgewater Inn?”
“That’s a famous one.” Abby has never stayed there, but she’s seen photographs. “You know, the Beatles stayed there when they visited Seattle.”
Lizzy tucks her short blond hair behind one ear studded with half a dozen gems. “What are the Beatles?” When Abby pauses to explain, Lizzy nudges her shoulder. “Kidding. What are you up to this weekend?”
“I get to spend the weekend with the love of my life.”
Lizzy grins. “Romantic dinner? Heading off on his seaplane to Vancouver?”
“We’re sticking close to home. Lots of tea parties with Nilla wafers. Walks in the park and hours of Sesame Street.” When Lizzy’s freckled nose wrinkles, Abby adds: “I’ve got my friend’s three-year-old for the weekend. Suz is flying off to Chicago for a wedding, so Sofia and I get to have a girls’ night in.”
Lizzy’s attention switches to the hallway, where a group session is ending. “What’s up, Doc?” she jokes, and Abby doesn’t have to look up to know that she’s talking to Dr. Jump. The icy shiver descending her spine indicates he’s near.
“Like I’ve never heard that one before.” Instead of heading straight out of the ward and into his office, his usual pattern, Jump stops into the nurses’ station and steps up to the counter right between Lizzy and Abby. As he checks something on the compute
r, he fishes out his dog tags and fingers the gold medal there, the replica of the Purple Heart that he’s so proud of.
It’s a struggle to keep her breathing steady. The revulsion of having his body so close is tangible, a bad taste in her mouth.
Most days she manages to avoid major exchanges with him, scheduling herself for group sessions other doctors are leading. Once a week she sees him in evaluation meetings, but so far the only patient they share is Emjay, so most of her evaluations are from other doctors.
She hoped to avoid him completely today, but her luck has run out.
“So what are you doing this weekend, Doc?”
Is she flirting with him? Abby remembers a time when his lean frame and crystal-clear blue eyes held a tug of attraction—long before the beast within had reared its fierce head.
“No plans,” Doc answers.
“But it’s Valentine’s Day.” Lizzy crosses her legs and cocks her head so that her blond bangs fall seductively over one eye. “Everybody needs somebody on Valentine’s Day.”
Stupid, stupid girl.
Abby jerks her gaze back to her paperwork as Jump snaps a chart closed and steps back.
“I’ve got a lot of patients who need me,” Jump says, folding his hands beneath his chin as if in prayer. “That’s about the extent of attachment on my Valentine’s Day.”
Except for poisonous notes.
“Ms. Fitzgerald.”
Abby freezes, her hand suspended over the file drawer.
“I have a special Valentine’s Day gift for you.”
Her mouth is suddenly dry, her tongue bunched in her throat as she forces herself to meet his icy blue gaze. “You shouldn’t have.”
His laughter pelts her in the gut, a helter-skelter spray of bullets. “But you don’t even know the value of this gift.” He steps toward her and casually rests a hip against the counter.
Fear burns through her with the awareness of his body, inches away. He can’t do anything to you here. He can’t hurt you here, with all these people around.
If only she could believe that.
“You have been chosen to work under my tutelage for the next few weeks,” he says proudly. “I am going to give you my undivided attention, and share with you…” his voice grows low, husky, “everything I have to give.”
“Sounds like quite an honor,” she says, pulling out a random chart as a diversion. “But I’m sure there are other interns far more deserving. Rhonda could recommend someone else.”
“Ah, but she’s the one who insisted I take you under my wing.”
What? How could Rhonda do that to her, after Abby had confided in her?
“For starters, I’d like you to write up treatment plans on all my patients this weekend,” he says. “Due Monday morning.”
“Dr. Jump, that’s two weeks’ worth of work.”
“But a talented student like you needs to be challenged. All that time on your hands. Of course, I can cancel the treatment plans if you could help me with my laundry. It’s really backing up and—”
“What?”
“I’m kidding.” He smiles, a glint of pure evil in his dove blue eyes. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Chapter 61
Fort Lewis Sharice
Surrounded by a mess so uncharacteristic of her organized nature, Sharice sits on the floor of the den beside the attic stairs and flips through the Rutgers University yearbook of 2000–2001. This time, she carefully combs each and every page so that she doesn’t miss mention of him, the way she did before when she casually leafed through it and searched for his name in the alphabetized section.
Her perusal tugs at her heart as she comes across photos of both her sons. Football practice. Student government. Noah and a friend splashing in a fountain on a hot spring day. A photo of her sons lined up with other students waiting to give blood after 9/11. And there’s a shot of John leading a meeting as the head of a political group he founded called “Peace Now.” She snorts, recalling how that drove Jim crazy, that his son would rally to reduce the size of the U.S. Army.
But as she turns the last pages of the yearbook, her chest grows tight with the proof that there is no Charles Jump listed—in any grade-level list.
He said he went to school with John, so she has searched every one of John’s yearbooks on the off chance that Jump is two or three years older or younger than John. He’s not even listed under “not pictured.”
Something is wrong here.
The sick pang in her stomach is back—the feeling of dread that blackened her mood yesterday when the pharmacist called out of the blue to check on Madison.
“Your daughter is on a regimen that might require some supervision,” Philip said. “Her physician has prescribed antidepressants and tranquilizers, which we don’t see often in teenagers. Sometimes kids that age don’t understand that doubling up on medication or taking something ahead of schedule can be toxic. I just wanted to make sure Madison is vigilantly following prescribed dosages.”
She assured Philip that Madison would be very careful, made a point of counseling her daughter about it after school, then called Dr. Jump’s office to see if he might cut back Madison’s dosage.
Thirty minutes later when the doctor called back, his voice bristled with annoyance. “Is Madison having an allergic reaction to anything?” he asked Sharice.
“No, it’s just that…she’s just sixteen and I worry about her being on such strong medications so young.”
“Have you consulted another physician?” he asked in a low voice. “Because I have to tell you, I didn’t spend three years at the Mayo Clinic to have my medical opinion undermined by a housewife.”
“No, that’s not my intent. I’m sorry…” She went on apologizing, and by the end of the conversation Charles Jump’s tone lightened up, even to the point that he suggested she send him some of the delicious snickerdoodles like the ones he’d sampled at Christmas.
After that she tried to put the matter out of her mind. However, something occurred as she lay in bed last night going over things in her head.
The Mayo Clinic. That’s where he said he went to med school. But he’d always been so proud about studying medicine at Harvard. It was one of the things about Dr. Jump that had impressed Jim so much.
That had planted the seed of suspicion, which compelled her out of bed this morning on a mission to find out what she could.
Sharice turns on the computer and tries to do an online search. Computers are not her thing, so she’s not surprised when she can’t get class lists online from Rutgers or Harvard, where Dr. Jump attended medical school.
So she picks up the phone and makes a call.
It takes two transfers to get to the right place, but the person she speaks with in the records department is very kind. “I can’t give you a class list of graduates,” the woman explains, “but if you give me a name, I can verify whether that person graduated from Rutgers University.”
“Charles Jump,” Sharice says, her stomach tensed in a tight knot. “But I’ll need you to check a few years,” she says, quickly fabricating a lie. “You see, we…had a fire in our office and we’re trying to recreate personnel records.”
The woman seems hesitant at first, but she checks for Charles’s name in her data of matriculating students. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see the name here,” the woman says. “Maybe the dates are wrong? If you can give me his social security number, I can run him that way.”
“I’ll do that,” Sharice says, thanking the woman for her time. She’s still dazed as she ends the call and presses the phone to her chest.
Charles Jump did not attend Rutgers. Or if he did, he was not there during the years John attended.
The doctor lied.
Why?
She glances down at the yearbooks, class photos, pom-poms, mortarboards and tassels spread around her, mementoes of her sons’ college years. If Dr. Jump lied about Rutgers, what about Harvard?
The call to Harvard University makes Sh
arice nervous, but she persists, knowing that this is about more than a little white lie. It was one thing for him to pretend to be John’s friend; that lie was somewhat harmless. But Dr. Jump is now treating her daughter and her husband. If his credentials are fraudulent…and she was the one who pushed so hard to get them both in therapy…
Unfortunately, Harvard Medical School cannot verify Jump’s matriculation unless she provides a social security number. A call to the Mayo Clinic is another dead end.
What to do next? Sharice isn’t sure, but she knows she has to get to the bottom of this, has to make things right. She’s the one who fixes things, mends them, holds the family together.
She’s not usually the one making the mistake.
Chapter 62
Fort Lewis Abby
“Elmo loves five! Give me five!” Elmo’s furry red face fills the TV screen.
Two feet away, Sofia holds up five fingers and bobs her head in time to the music. “That’s five!” Sofia sings.
“Not so close to the TV.” Abby ushers Sofia back a few steps, then sits back down to her third treatment plan for Jump. She’s enjoying having Sofia here, but struggles to balance her extra work from the hospital with the joys of childcare.
This treatment plan is for a man named Derek who’s suffering from post-traumatic stress after deployment to Iraq. Derek, who went undiagnosed for a while, was nearly court-martialed after he barricaded himself in his apartment for three days. And right now, Dr. Jump has him on a high-dosage cocktail of antidepressants and tranquilizers.
That seems to be the pattern in terms of Jump’s treatment plans—this doctor believes in drugs, and lots of them. Not that the other patients aren’t on medications. It’s just that Dr. Jump prescribes very high dosages, higher than any Abby has seen in the treatment plans of other doctors on the ward. Abby isn’t all that familiar with dosages, and as a psychologist she will not be able to prescribe medications, but she worries that Dr. Jump’s dosages might be toxic.
One September Morning Page 33