Privileged Witness

by Rebecca Forster

  Archer sat beside Billy Zuni. The boy was pale and drawn, terrified, sick at heart that Hannah had seen what he had seen. Archer did not touch Billy but there had been words and Billy was better for Archer being there.

  Gently, she pushed Hannah away and sat her up. She put her hands on Hannah's shoulders.

  ''Think you can get home now?'' she asked and Hannah nodded with a stuttered little gesture.

  ''My man,'' Josie heard Archer mutter and Billy stood up with him. . Archer touched Josie, his big hand lingering on her cheek.

  ''Will you drive Hannah's car?'' she asked quietly.

  ''I want to go with you,'' Hannah gasped and clutched at Josie once again. Grasping and releasing, releasing and clutching, twenty times without counting.

  ''I'm going, too,'' Josie soothed. ''It's alright. Tim drove us here but he's gone. We'll get our cars from Grace's place tomorrow. I just don't want you driving, Hannah. I'm not leaving. I'm not.''

  That was all the reassurance Hannah needed. Josie wanted a word with the detective before she left so left Hannah to Billy and Archer.

  ''You should be proud of those kids,'' he said.

  ''I am,'' Josie answered, ''and I'm concerned. Do you have any idea if O'Connel was still around when Hannah and Billy showed up?''

  ''He was long gone. A store keep down the way saw a guy running like a bat out of hell. The people below heard someone running down the stairs.''

  ''But it's a guess, right?'' Josie persisted.

  ''Yeah. It is. I don't know if he saw your kids.''

  ''Okay.'' Josie's jaw tightened as she looked around at the wrap up. Susan's body was gone, taken to the morgue. The neighbors had gone back to their apartments and locked their doors. The landlord would be unhappy with the mess but it too would be cleaned up and forgotten.

  ''Look,'' she said. ''I think he's been staking out my place. I'll let the Hermosa PD know what's going on but I'd appreciate it if you'd touch base with Detective Babcock in Long Beach, too. He's seen O'Connel. He knows about this so maybe you could work with Hermosa and coordinate. I'm not worried about myself; I just don't want him messing with Hannah.''

  ''Now that his wife is dead he's probably run out of steam. I wouldn't worry if I were you.''

  ''You want to take a chance that you're wrong?'' Josie challenged.

  ''I wouldn't if Hermosa was my jurisdiction but it isn't. You ought to think about some private security.'' The detective gave her a pat on the arm and walked away. It was late, he was on the clock and he was right. Hannah was her responsibility.

  With one last look, Josie walked heavily down the narrow staircase and onto the street where Archer, Billy and Hannah waited. Josie got in the back of VW Bug where Hannah was crumpled against the far door. Without a word, they came together. Hannah's head came to rest on Josie's shoulder as Archer pulled out and headed for home. No one said a word. The radio was silent, the windows rolled up and their thoughts were dark as the night.

  In Hermosa, Archer dropped Billy first. Josie strained to catch sight of his mother but the door opened just wide enough for Billy to go through. Solemnly they went on. Archer left Hannah and Josie at the door, took Max out for his evening walk, offered to stay the night, to keep watch, to protect the two women but Josie sent him on his way. Kevin O'Connel, if he came, would not come that night. He would need time to feed his anger and find his courage again.

  Josie sat by Hannah's bed until she settled into a deep but restless sleep. When she was sure the girl wouldn't wake, Josie showered with the bathroom door open and Max just outside it. She thought about poor Susan O'Connel. Dead, Grace McCreary. Dangerous. Matthew. What would she tell Matthew? Josie touched her bruised ribs, she put fingers to the scrape on her face. She wouldn't tell anyone anything until she had some sleep.

  Wrapped in her robe, edgy, unable to separate the physical pain from the psychic, Josie went to the kitchen and heated milk. She prowled the house, scarcely aware that Max-the-Dog watched her, his head on his paws. Sitting, she cradled the cup in her hands and surveyed her home. Finding no pleasure in her handiwork, no peace in the silence, Josie was up again. She left the mug on the table, went to her bathroom and rummaged through her hamper, rifling through her dirty clothes until she found the things she had forgotten: Grace's emerald ring and the pictures. In her bedroom Josie sat on the side of her bed and considered the ring. She turned it so the stone caught the light. She contemplated it as if it would give up Grace's secrets, but it was nothing more than a gaudy symbol of all that was wrong with the McCrearys.

  Opening her beside drawer, Josie put the ring next to her father's gun. The pictures were another matter. She reached for the phone and dialed the number she found on the back. She could only hope the person on the other end cared enough about Grace to want to help. An answering machine picked up. Josie left a message. This was an emergency.

  Climbing under the comforter, her head sank into one pillow and she pulled another close, holding it as if it was Archer. When she started to cry, mourning for Susan O'Connel and her own mistakes and Hannah's trauma and Billy Zuni's sad life and Archer who she knew sat on his balcony sleepless with worry, Josie Bates knew that no matter what happened now she could not let Grace McCreary down. Six hours later, just before dawn, her phone rang. Stiff, sore and barely able to move, Josie groaned as she reached for the receiver and put it to her ear.

  ''Is she all right? Grace McCreary? Is she all right?'' came a frantic male voice.

  ''I was hoping you'd tell me,'' Josie said, gritting her teeth against the pain as she tried to get up.

  Three hours later Faye Baxter had answered Josie's call for help. Hannah would stay with Faye until everything was sorted out. The second call was to Archer. He drove Josie to the airport where she caught a plane to Vermont. Doctor Emile Wharton, Grace McCreary's psychiatrist, waited for her arrival.

  CHAPTER 40

  ''Grace McCreary.''

  Doctor Emile Wharton said the name slowly, stretching it out to see what was hidden in the folds of the syllables. Josie took the time to analyze how the man fared against the picture she had carried to this little state wrapped in an unfamiliar blanket of cold.

  He was beyond middle age with a fringe of grey hair that, in the picture of long ago, was dark and covered his well shaped head. His glasses were round and rimless; his lips were not full but gave the impression of being his outstanding feature. Perhaps it was the border of fine lines that called attention to them, as if those lips were stitched onto his face, as if he had spent his entire life with them pursed, puzzling over problems of the mind. His face had fallen gently with the years so that his eyes looked sad behind his glasses. He was once a handsome man who had probably been unaware of his attractiveness. If it ever occurred to him to mourn the passing of his youth, Josie was sure he gave it no more than a fleeting thought.

  His office sported the expected framed diplomas, citations and honors. There was a coffee cup on a saucer and a picture of an older woman taken by a professional who obviously believed every hint of uniqueness should be airbrushed away. There were no pictures of children or grandchildren. The furniture was comfortable and slightly worn. The chair matched the sofa. The phone had six lines. His desk calendar was open and the pages Josie could see were covered with notes. On the bookshelf she had counted three tomes that carried his name. He was a busy man, but not too busy to see her. Grace's name had been magic, his calendar had cleared.

  ''I wish you'd come to me about anyone else,'' he said finally. ''I had so hoped she was well - truly well - instead of hiding her illness behind her amazing discipline.''

  ''Maybe you shouldn't have cut her loose,'' Josie suggested and then told Doctor Wharton everything from the way she met Grace to the car Grace used as a weapon.

  ''Oh, my poor Grace,'' he muttered as his hands unclasped for a moment. ''I would never have let her go if I thought she was still so sick. I'm so sorry that happened to you. But I assure you, she meant no harm. Grace simply wanted t
o escape. She can do such harm sometimes and not mean it.''

  ''She's been violent before?''

  ''I'm not so sure I should answer that. I was her doctor. She is not dead and so I would imagine that the doctor/patient privilege would still attach,'' Doctor Wharton speculated.

  ''I'll take care of it. I had permission to speak to a doctor in Los Angeles and I can argue that extends to all of Grace's physicians.''

  ''I have a lot to lose, Ms. Bates,'' he warned.

  ''So does Grace McCreary,'' Josie replied.

  ''Well, put,'' Doctor Wharton said before he told Josie the story of Grace McCreary. ''She was a teenager when we met. I was head of the psychiatric unit at the University of California San Francisco Medical Center. It didn't take long for me to understand that I had an opportunity to learn a great deal about the human spirit. Grace was my post doctoral work in a manner of speaking. You'll find her in the pages of that book.'' He pointed toward the shelf. ''But it wasn't just professional curiosity that kept me with her. I liked Grace. She was a lovely girl. Exotic. Quite beautiful.''

  ''Grace doesn't think so,'' Josie said.

  Doctor Wharton laughed, ''Heavens no. Grace thought she was quite ugly. There was a time that Grace believed her mother died willingly because she couldn't bear being mother to such an ugly child.''

  ''That's frightening,'' Josie murmured.

  ''That was the least of her problems. A mere blip on the screen. . .'' He stopped. ''But, I'm getting ahead of myself here. So sorry. I spent a year with Grace and then she left my care. She actually went away without saying goodbye.''

  ''Did you try to find her?'' Josie asked.

  ''It wasn't my place,'' Doctor Wharton said, ''but I gave Matthew the benefit of my insights. I thought it might help in his search.''

  ''Was he concerned?''

  ''Oh, very. Grace had acted out horribly after they were orphaned. She destroyed things that belonged to their parents. She was awful to Matthew's friends. Finally, he sent her to a girl's school but she would run away and he'd find her lurking around the business or their home.''

  ''Why would she have to do that? I mean, why did Grace have to sneak around her own house?''

  ''Because Matthew was trying tough love. He knew that she needed structure in her life that he couldn't provide. It was difficult for him to send her away, but he did,'' Doctor Wharton explained. ''Remember, Matthew was barely eighteen when the mother and father died. He had a business to run, his own grieving to do and Grace to take care of. That would be a load for an adult, but Matthew was barely a man and he was a perfectionist. He was determined to take care of everything, including his sister. In the end it was a brave, loving thing he did when he sent Grace away.''

  ''Didn't the family have friends?' Josie asked. ''Didn't the parents designate guardians in their will?''

  ''The McCreary's were probably no older than you when they died. I'm sure they felt immortal like all of us do at that age. They had a will but it dealt with the business and their financial affairs. It probably never occurred to them to appoint guardians. So, when the parents passed, the law said Matthew was old enough to be Grace's guardian. I've never been so impressed by a young person. He did all he could.''

  ''But it wasn't enough,'' Josie suggested.

  ''No. Had the McCrearys died a year or two earlier I don't think Grace would have experienced such devastating problems.''

  ''What would have been different?''

  ''There would have been adults to take the two of them in hand. Matthew could have grieved to the fullest extent and grown more gradually into his responsibilities. An executor would have seen to the business. They both would have been children and Matthew, especially, would have been given permission to act as a child. He could have clung to Grace instead of suddenly being set above her by virtue of his age and legal standing. Sometimes, Ms. Bates, the law does not do us any favors.''

  ''That is the truth, doctor,'' Josie acknowledged. ''But are you saying that Matthew somehow caused Grace's mental decline?''

  ''No, no. Physically Grace was predetermined to experience some difficulties. Her depression is a chemical imbalance and handled by medication. She was fanatical about taking it when she was very young. Unfortunately, in the years between the first time I saw Grace and the last time, she abandoned her medication. I'm afraid the experience of those intervening years left her quite shaken. She made bad personal decisions that influenced her propensity toward paranoia and self-loathing. It took us a long while to bring her to a balanced position. ''

  ''Let's go back. Why would she destroy things that belonged to her parents?''

  ''She took an irrational responsibility for her parent's deaths and didn't want to be reminded of them. It wasn't so much her father though. Grace never was quite sure how she felt about women – including her own mother. She pretended her mother meant nothing to her yet she kept that one picture. She wore her mother's ring - an emerald that was far too large for a young girl. She never took it off''

  ''She has now. Grace threw it away in the trash,'' Josie told him.

  ''Are you sure?'' Doctor Wharton's brow beetled. ''That ring meant the world to her. Matthew put it on his sister's finger himself. If what you're telling me is true, then Grace is trying to completely break from her family and that puts her in a very dangerous place.''

  ''How so?'' Josie asked.

  ''When Matthew washed his hands of her the first time Grace became self destructive. She lived with awful men. She abused drugs. She returned to the house one day and found Matthew there with a young woman. Grace attacked her. Matthew paid off the woman and told Grace to get out of his life for good. I couldn't blame him. The instinct for self-preservation is a powerful thing and Grace wanted all of him. She wanted to be the center of his universe the way he was the center of hers.''

  ''I don't get it. Why didn't Grace attack Matthew if she felt betrayed?''

  ''Because in Grace's mind women are always at fault. Yet Grace is intelligent and her intelligence saves her. She sought me out years later, motivated to get well, to leave behind the self-destructive life she had created.'' Doctor Wharton stood up and shrugged into a well worn coat. ''Do you mind if we walk, Ms. Bates?''

  They went down the hall of the administrative wing of Emile Wharton's hospital and Josie saw that peace of mind didn't come cheap. In Grace's case it never came at all. Doctor Wharton held the door for her. They stepped out into a beautiful afternoon. Josie buttoned her blazer and stuck her hands deep in her pockets against the unaccustomed cold. They turned off the brick path onto a dirt one that ran through an expanse of grass gone brown. Doctor Wharton kept his eyes down and didn't share her appreciation of their surroundings.

  ''When she came back to me Grace was still dealing with her survivor's guilt, the abandonment issues, her search for security and identity, her pain of what she perceived as rejection by Matthew. She did understand her destructive bent.''

  ''Understanding isn't acceptance though,'' Josie pointed out.

  ''Especially not in Grace's case. The first time I treated her, I didn't look beyond the surface. When Grace came back to my care as an adult she was more articulate and I finally understood the subtly of her disturbance.

  ''You see, when she was orphaned Grace's personality was unformed, she hadn't explored her sexuality. She was stuck in a pre-pubescent mire of self-doubt and loathing. Matthew moved on while Grace was paralyzed with fear; he coped while she continued to cling. This was not mental illness, this world view was inherent in her personality. No matter what action Grace takes – especially if it is decisive – she will always second guess herself.''

  ''By that reasoning she should be turning herself in to the police right about now,'' Josie noted ruefully.

  ''Not necessarily,'' he warned. ''Did she make the decision to run on her own or did she have help?''

  ''She had help,'' Josie said.

  ''The person who helped her, was it a man?''

  Josie nodded. They h
ad reached the trees. A sharp wind turned her ears icy. Doctor Wharton picked up a seed pod, examined it then set it back where he had found it. He took a deep breath of the fresh air.

  ''The only move Grace feels comfortable with is the one made with the approval of a man, Ms. Bates.''

  ''If that qualifies as a mental disorder, then I know a lot of women who are sick,'' Josie laughed.

  ''Not in this way, Ms. Bates.'' The doctor walked on and Josie stuck close. ''Grace's specific illness takes this sense of dependency to the extreme. Her problem crosses the line between social difficulty and psychological impairment.''

  ''Meaning what?''

  ''When Grace came back to me she had been in dozens of abusive relationships: mental, physical, fiduciary. Men took advantage of her because she was so willing to believe that they had her best interests at heart. She was always looking for another Matthew. In her heart of hearts, Grace McCreary is one of the sweetest women I have ever met. She would do anything for the person she perceived honestly cared for her. Anything.''

  ''And that included men who abused her,'' Josie mused.

  ''For Grace the line between admiration and love, between trust and blind acceptance blurs until it is nonexistent. Grace suffers from a delusional type of paranoid disorder called erotomania.''

  Josie stopped. Doctor Wharton touched another pod with the toe of his shoe. He pushed at his glasses as he studied a leaf. He talked.

  ''Those inflicted with this disorder idealize romantic love and spiritual union. It is a sense that there is a higher commitment than the normal love. These feelings are traditionally directed toward a famous person, a superior, someone who has an established reason to be highly admired. The self can be completely lost to this adoration.''

  ''And Grace chose the men in her life based on these ideas?''

  ''Worse, Ms. Bates. Grace chose the men in her life in opposition to her erotomania. She understood it before I did. She was running from it, choosing men who gave her no reason to admire them. Indeed, she chose men who gave her every reason to hate them.''