by Polly Iyer
She put her arm around her mother’s shoulder. “Not true. You were my rock after I was shot. No one could have been stronger or more supportive. You never let me feel sorry for myself, and I sure as hell tried. Without your strength, I wouldn’t have survived. That’s a fact.”
“I don’t know if I can do it again, baby. I depend on him so much; I don’t know…”
Lucy’s sniffles hit Abby hard. “You can’t do this to yourself. If he makes it, he’ll need you, and this isn’t going to help.” She felt her way down Lucy’s arm and reached for the glass. Lucy let her take it. Abby held it out for Luke. He took it. She heard him pick up the bottle and carry them to the kitchen.
Lucy’s sobs came in gushes. She rested her head on her daughter’s shoulder and Abby wrapped her arms around her, kissing the beehive of hair. “It’ll be all right. You’ll see.”
Chapter Twenty One
A Piece of the Puzzle
Abby stayed the night at Lucy’s to make sure her mother didn’t fall off the wagon that’s always parked outside an alcoholic’s door. In the morning, Lucy insisted she could handle the hospital visit alone.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to go?”
“No, you have patients to see. I can do this.”
“Give him my love.”
Meyer Goldman was more like family to Abby and Macy than the Gentrys were during her nine-year marriage. He mourned the loss of his adopted granddaughter as if she were his own. To think of him suffering broke Abby’s heart.
Abby called Cleo and told her she’d be a few minutes late. She had one client this morning who she hoped would understand. Then she canceled her usual taxi pickup, and Lucy dropped her at the office. She walked into a hornet’s nest when she arrived.
“Jonah Wall is here, Abby,” Cleo said. “He’s upset he had to wait.”
“How can you be late, Doctor Gallant?” Jonah said in a childish frenzy when he took his seat in her office. “I wait all week to see you, and you’re late. A few weeks ago, that guy who came out of your office upset you, and you were distracted all during my appointment. Now it’s something else, and you weren’t here on time. I need you. Don’t you know that?”
Of course, Jonah thought he was her only patient, but his words triggered something else. “What guy, Jonah?”
“That tall, good-looking guy. You were crying. He came out of your office and you were crying. I saw the tears in your eyes, and you wore sunglasses after.” Jonah paused. “Is he your boyfriend?”
Then it hit her. Jonah Wall was sitting in the waiting room when Luke told her about Mack Tollison’s evaluation. She needed to handle this delicately.
“What did you think of that, Jonah? Were you angry?”
“Yes, you shouldn’t have a boyfriend, Doctor Gallant, especially one who makes you cry. Things like that interfere with therapy. You lose concentration. I saw that. You didn’t care about me that day. You were too busy thinking about him. You didn’t care about me at all.”
She remembered being upset and losing concentration, but she always put her patients first. Maybe she screwed up this time. “What other emotions did you have beside anger, Jonah?”
“I don’t know. I just didn’t like it, that’s all. You don’t need a boyfriend.”
“Do you have a girlfriend, Jonah?”
“Shoot, you know I don’t. Girls don’t like me. They don’t like my looks. They think I’m fat and ugly. You don’t think that, do you, Doctor Gallant?”
“You know I can’t judge your appearance, because I can’t see you.”
“That’s right. You like me for who I am. That’s one of the reasons I like coming to you. You judge me as a person.”
She’d been half joking when she said Jonah liked her because she couldn’t see him. Now she realized how true that had been. “Yes, I do, but now I have to ask you a question. It’s a very important question and I want you to answer truthfully, okay?”
“I’ll try.”
“Did you tell anyone about the man in my office?”
He rustled in his seat but didn’t answer.
“Did you, Jonah? Did you mention him to anyone?”
“Um, I don’t know what you mean. Why would I do that?”
“Maybe you didn’t mean to. Maybe you thought you were protecting me by telling, and the man couldn’t make me cry any more. Is that what you thought?”
“You shouldn’t have a boyfriend who makes you cry,” Jonah said. “I wouldn’t make you cry. I would be nice to you all the time.”
“I’m sure you would, but you can’t be my boyfriend, because you’re my patient. You know that’s wrong. You know a therapist can’t be involved with a patient in any other way, don’t you?”
Oh, how silence reveals more than words.
“Don’t you?” she repeated.
“Yes.”
“And you told, didn’t you?”
He didn’t answer.
“Do you know I could lose my license if anyone thinks I had a personal relationship with a patient? And if I lose my license, I won’t be able to see you anymore. Not ever.”
“I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
Abby knew by his quivering voice that he verged on tears.
“I wanted you to stop seeing him.”
“So you called the South Carolina Psychological Association.”
“Are you angry with me? Please say you’re not.”
Putting her emotions aside for the moment and examining the situation objectively, Abby felt like an incompetent failure. Jonah Wall was infatuated with her, and she’d missed the textbook signs—a troubled teenager embracing the only person he felt understood him. Abby didn’t know which was worse, his childish revenge or her lack of perception.
“No, Jonah, but you’ve caused me a lot of anxiety. Right now, the Board of Ethics Committee is studying whether or not to expel me from my profession because of your complaint.” He sucked air through his nose—the sound reminded her of radio static.
“I’m sorry, Doctor Gallant. I was trying to protect you.” Another scratchy sniff. “Do you have a tissue?”
She opened a drawer and handed him a tissue. “I am going to ask you to do the right thing and call the Psychological Association to tell them the truth. Will you do that, Jonah?” The foghorn sound he made when he blew his nose smothered any residual anger that conflicted with Abby’s guilt.
“Yes, Doctor Gallant. Does this mean you won’t be able to see me anymore?”
“Yes, I’m afraid it does. I’m sorry, but my effectiveness has been compromised. I’ll recommend someone else, but you need to make a serious effort to help yourself too.
“Now I have to ask you another question.” Even though she knew it was pointless, she asked anyway. “Did you ever visit my home or leave emails on my computer?”
“Huh?”
She repeated the question.
“No, Doctor Gallant. Why would I do that when I see you every week? Besides, I don’t know where you live. I tried to find your house once to bring you flowers, but I couldn’t.”
Abby never really considered Jonah the intruder. He was a confused young man who needed attention and someone to care. When he said goodbye, the quiver in his voice tugged at her heartstrings. For some inexplicable reason beyond good judgment, she almost called him back but thought better of it. She’d discuss this matter with Don Weston. He’d recommend another psychologist for Jonah. She hoped additional therapy would help the boy put his life in order.
Abby was at a loss. Jonah’s complaint about her conduct removed one element concerning her harassment. And nothing clarified that more than the email she accessed on the computer.
Enough game playing. Now we play for real.
* * * * *
Luke picked up Abby from work. Daisy hopped in the back seat. When they arrived at Abby’s, Daisy seemed anxious. Luke put his hand across Abby’s chest, holding her in place.
“I know we locked the door yesterday,” Luk
e said.
Abby took a quick breath. “Oh no. What is it?”
“Stay here with Daisy, and don’t move. I’m going to check the house.”
Abby’s heart raced. She pulled at his arm and wouldn’t let go. “Don’t leave me standing here like a lamppost.”
“Okay. Put your hand on my shoulder and hold on to Daisy.” They took two steps inside. “The place isn’t messed. At least not this room.” Luke led her into the study. “Shit!”
Abby’s stomach took a dive. “What?”
“Looks like someone splashed blood all over the computer. Stay here. I’m going to nudge the mouse with my handkerchief to see if there’s a message.” He moved away from her. “No message. The screen says there’s no operating system. The hard drive’s been erased.”
Abby needed to sit down. She made it to the daybed and collapsed. “What could this person think is in my computer? And why come back? He could have taken the computer the night he broke into the back yard.”
“I don’t know. Nothing makes sense.”
“New locks don’t mean a thing to this guy. He walks in here like he owns my house.”
Throbbing pain started in the back of her head and pounded its way forward. If she was no longer safe in her own house, where was she safe?
Chapter Twenty-Two
A Change of Venue
Abby’s emotions ranged from anger to feeling helplessly victimized. The frustration of the missing hard drive and lost files didn’t help. Fortunately, the files at home were duplicates of those at her office and were backed up regularly. She’d have Luke reload them. The embossed files were untouched. Luke was right. Nothing made sense.
After Luke cleaned up the mess, he said, “You’re not staying alone in this house. You’re coming home with me.”
A few years after the shooting, Abby tried to reclaim control over her life. She succeeded in part, but not completely. Dependence on other people was a fact of life for the blind. But this? She didn’t want a babysitter. Even Luke. Especially Luke, because then he might see himself in the role she most feared would drive him away. The White Cane.
She bit back the frustration. “I won’t let this person push me out of my home. And what makes you think that whoever’s doing this doesn’t know where you live?”
“He might, but my house is rigged.”
“What do you mean, ‘rigged’?”
“It means that once I set a keypad, no one can get within ten feet without activating sensors that set off blinking lights inside the house, and when I go to bed, I set a very loud siren. It’d scare the hell out of you, but I’d hear it.”
“Are you expecting trouble?” she asked.
“No, but I don’t like being at a disadvantage.”
Luke’s deafness had cut him off from his world—the world of police and thugs and murderers—and had limited his ability not only to protect others but also himself.
“You’re worried this is more than someone’s scare tactic, aren’t you?”
“When this guy first started harassing you, the ethics complaint narrowed the field. As time passed, I doubted your nemesis was a patient or a friend. Then your ex-husband showed up, and the guilt fell on him. Now we’re pretty sure it’s not Stewart. So whoever’s doing this has watched you long enough to know everything about you, including your association with me. There’s something I haven’t told you. The pills Stewart left in the cabin aren’t anti-psychotic medication.”
“I…I don’t understand. What are they then?”
“Just the opposite. A psychedelic drug that causes hallucinations. A form of DMT, or dimethyltryptamine. It’s related to LSD, only more powerful. There’s no test to determine if it’s in a person’s system, and it’s naturally produced in the brain. Now, here’s the interesting part: accelerated levels of DMT have been found in persons suffering from schizophrenia. The composition in Stewart’s pill has been altered, though. The chemist who did the analysis said he’s never seen anything like it but heard of a similar drug being distributed in Europe and recently in the States.”
Abby shook her head. “I still don’t understand. Are you saying Stewart has been taking a drug that triggers schizophrenic symptoms?”
“That’s what it looks like, if we could prove the pills are Stewart’s. There’s no label or distinguishing marks on them.”
Abby felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room. What the hell was going on? “Stewart never took drugs. He drank, sometimes heavily, but he never smoked pot or took drugs. Why would he take a drug that made him psychotic?”
“My guess is he didn’t know what he was taking.”
Abby leaned back in her chair and inadvertently fingered the round scar on her temple. “You’re saying someone gave him those drugs? But why?”
“Is there any reason your ex-husband’s family would want to silence him? To keep him out of the public eye?”
She dug into her mental archives, her repository of all things Gentry. Those thoughts she’d neatly labeled Places I Never Want to Go. Resting her head back on the sofa pillow, she covered her face with her hands.
Luke pulled them away. “I’m sorry, Abby. I know how hard this is for you. I wouldn’t prod if I didn’t think it was important.”
“I know.” God, I don’t want to go there. “Besides his erratic behavior and the unwanted notoriety he inflicted on his family? No, none. Of course, I wasn’t privy to the inner workings of the Gentrys. I married into that family an outsider and remained one.” Luke asked her to repeat, and she answered with a shake of her head.
“Anything unusual happen before Stewart started losing it? Any family catastrophe besides his father’s plane crash?”
Again, she shook her head.
“Think back. When Stewart started saying weird things, what were they?”
“I can’t remember, exactly.”
“Try.”
Abby forced her thoughts back to that time she wanted most to forget and how crazy it all sounded, then and now. “He kept saying he had to protect us, Macy and me. That we were in danger, the whole world was in danger. I assumed it was the paranoia talking.” Stewart’s face, twisted in fear, rose in her darkness. Her stomach clenched. “I can’t do this, Luke.” She felt his hand on her arm.
“Just a few more questions. How did he act when his father’s plane crashed?”
“Distraught, but almost like he wasn’t surprised. I recall thinking his reaction was strange. Stewart loved his father. Actually, I liked him. He was always nice to me. The difference between old money and new, I guess.”
“What else?”
Thinking about that time of her life was like being sucked into a whirlpool, spinning out of control. “I’m trying to place the chronology.”
“Take all the time you need, as long as you think fast. While you’re thinking, let’s pack a few things.” He took her by the arm and coaxed her to a standing position. “You’re coming with me.”
“Do you really think that’s necessary?”
“I do. No arguments.”
Abby took her cane, and Luke helped her pack enough for a few days. They gathered up Daisy’s food and bowls, took the dog, and left. She hated leaving the safety of her own home to go where the layout was as alien as the moon’s surface. But her home wasn’t as safe anymore.
Within an hour, she entered Luke’s world—a two-bedroom house in Duncan Park, with a screened-in porch that was his favorite place to relax in good weather. Daisy made herself at home.
For the second time in a few days, a man walked her through his house to familiarize her with the layout: a living-dining room combination, large kitchen, bathroom and master bedroom, a second bedroom converted to a study. It seemed neat and organized to her senses. A large coffee table sat in front of a leather sofa, a leather recliner to the side. The kitchen and bathroom had the just-cleaned aroma of pine oil.
If she could see, she’d have better insight into the man who’d become part of her life. She�
�d know what books he read, what art hung on his walls, if any, and the respect he had for his surroundings. These were things outside her.
“I’m sorry to take you from your house,” Luke said, his arm around Abby’s shoulder. “I know how important it is for you to feel comfortable and familiar in your environment, but what’s the old cliché? I’d rather be safe than sorry? Until we find out who’s trying to hurt you, I’ll take you to work and pick you up. I don’t want you doing anything alone.”
“Luke?”
“What?”
“You’re doing what I asked you not to do. You’re being my protector.”
He took her by the shoulders. “What should I do? Leave you alone, an easy target for some nut? I don’t want you to find out who this is while you’re alone in the house we both know he’s familiar with. If that’s being your protector, so be it.”
She moved into him but lifted her chin so he could see her words. “I’m sorry if I sound ungrateful.”
“I don’t want gratitude. I want you safe. I thought I lost you a while back. I didn’t like the way that felt.”
She ran her hand over his face, found his lips, and kissed him. “Okay, let me go around by myself.”
“Get my attention if you need me.”
Luke alternated between grilling steaks outside and making potatoes and salad in the kitchen while Abby tap-tapped her cane around the house, counting her steps and feeling with her hands for everything else. She opened kitchen drawers and fingered the contents, mentally labeled the cupboards holding dishes and glassware, and explored the countertops to learn what took up their spaces. When she finished her tour, she walked toward Luke and stopped a few inches away. She didn’t say anything.
“How did you know where I was? I’ve been watching you and haven’t moved.”
“I heard you anyway, and when I got close, the air changed.” She waved him off. “It’s hard to explain.”
He took her in his arms and kissed her. “Dinner’s ready. After we eat, you can explain all that to me while we make love.”
Abby praised the dinner Luke called man food.