She checked Alice again, made sure she was asleep, then left the room. Outside, in the hallway, the dogs lay coiled together, asleep. Julia stepped over them and retrieved the dreamcatcher.
It was a poorly made trinket; the kind of thing they sold at local souvenir shops. No bigger than a tea saucer and as thin as the twigs that formed its circular perimeter; it was hardly threatening. Several cheap, shiny blue beads glittered amidst a string web. She suspected they usually came with a designer tag that detailed their importance to the local tribes of the Quinalt and the Hoh.
What was its connection to Alice? Was she Native American? Was that a piece of the puzzle? Or was it not the dreamcatcher in total that had frightened her, but rather some piece of it—the beads, the twigs, or the string?
String. A cousin to rope.
Ligature marks.
Perhaps that was the connection. The string could have reminded Alice of being tied up.
There was no way to know these answers until Alice herself revealed them.
In ordinary therapy, bound by the normal conventions of time and money, it could take months for a child to confront such fears. Perhaps years.
But this case was far from ordinary. The longer Alice remained in her solitary, isolated world, the less likely it was that she would ever emerge. Therefore, they didn’t have the luxury of time. She needed to force a confrontation between the two Alices—the child lost in the woods and the girl who’d been returned to the world. These two halves needed to integrate into a single personality or Alice’s future would be at risk.
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
There was only one thing to do, and it wouldn’t be pretty.
She went downstairs to call her sister. Fifteen minutes later Ellie and Peanut walked through the front door.
“Hey,” Peanut said, grinning broadly and fluttering her bright pink star-spangled fingernails.
Julia reached into her pocket and pulled out the dreamcatcher. “Either one of you recognize this?”
“Sure. It’s a dreamcatcher,” Peanut said, pulling a Baggie full of carrot sticks out of her purse. “My son used to have one hanging from his bed. I think he bought it on a field trip up to Neah Bay. They’re a Native American tradition. The idea is that they protect a sleeping child from nightmares. The bad dreams get caught in the web, while the good ones slip quietly through that hole in the middle.” She grinned. “Discovery Channel. Native American History Week.”
“Why?” Ellie asked Julia.
“Alice had a severe emotional response to this thing. Snorting, scratching herself, screaming. It seemed to scare the crap out of her.”
Ellie reached over and picked up the dreamcatcher, examining it. “You think it’s the bad dream thing?”
“No. I think it’s more personal. Maybe she was hurt in a room that had one, or by a person who made them. Or perhaps the string reminded her of the rope that was used to tie her ankle. I’m not sure yet. But there’s something about it that set her off.”
“I’ll check it out,” Ellie said. “Clues are damn few and far between. I’ll send Earl up to the reservation. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“It’s about time for some luck,” Julia agreed, picking her purse up off the sofa. “Where could I find a bunch of them for sale?”
“Swain’s General Store,” Peanut answered. “They have a local souvenir aisle.”
“Great. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Better wear a mask,” Peanut muttered. She and Ellie exchanged worried glances.
Julia frowned. “What’s going on?”
“You remember Mort Elzik?” Ellie asked.
So it was small-town gossip. She should have known. “No.” Julia glanced at her watch. She wanted to be back—with the dreamcatchers—when Alice woke from her nap. “I really don’t have time for this now. I don’t know how long Alice will sleep.” She headed for the door.
“He published a photo of Alice in the Rain Valley Gazette.”
“The headline called her ‘wolf girl,’” Peanut said, chewing loudly.
Julia stopped. All at once she remembered Mort from high school . . . and from that night at the hospital. He’d bumped into her in the hallway. Of course. The bag he’d dropped held camera equipment. That was why he hadn’t been at the meeting in the church; he’d used that time to sneak into the hospital. Slowly, she turned. “Any mention of me?”
Both women shook their heads. “The town is protecting you,” Ellie added. “He knows you’re here but no one will confirm that you’re helping Alice.”
“I knew there’d be a leak. There always is. We’re fine if—”
Peanut and Ellie exchanged another worried look.
“What? There’s more?” Julia demanded.
“Some of the reporters are leaving town. They think the whole thing is a hoax.”
Julia cursed under her breath. That was the one thing they couldn’t afford. If the media withdrew now, they might never find out who Alice really was. “The new photos—mine, I mean—should help. Also release some bit of information. Something scientific. Put someone in uniform on camera to talk about the search. Use lots of missing kids’ statistics. Make every word sound official. That should buy us some time.”
“You need to get her talking, Jules.”
“No kidding.” In the old days her word would have been enough to convince the media. Now, it would mean nothing.
“You want me to go get you the dreamcatchers?” Peanut said gently.
Julia hated to bend to pressure, but she had no choice. She couldn’t let Mort get a photo of her. She tossed her purse back onto the sofa. “Thanks, Pea. I’d appreciate that.”
THIRTEEN
AN HOUR LATER ELLIE AND PEANUT WERE BACK IN THE CRUISER, heading for town.
“We need her to talk,” Ellie said quietly. No matter how much evidence they accumulated, the truth always boiled down to that.
“Julia is doing her best, but . . .”
“It could take a while. I know. And what if Mort’s photo ruins everything? If the legitimate media thinks we’re some hicks trying to put our city on the map, it’s over.”
“Don’t go looking for trouble, El. My Benji says—”
The car radio squawked. “Ellie? Are you there?”
“I’m not answering,” Ellie said. “It’s never good news anymore.”
“That’s a responsible choice. Probably just a ten-car pileup on the interstate, anyway. Or a hostage situation.”
Another clatter of static. “Chief? Julia says you’re in the car. If you don’t answer, I’m going to tell everyone you wrote a letter to Rick Springfield in the eighth grade. Over.”
Ellie hit the Talk button. “Don’t force me to bring out the photos of you with a perm, Cal.”
“There you are. Thank God, El. You need to get here now. Over.”
“What’s going on?”
“The kooks have landed. I swear to God.”
Ellie cursed under her breath. She hit the siren and gas at the same time. In minutes she was pulling into the parking lot and getting out of the car.
There were people everywhere, though not as many as yesterday. News vans clogged the street in front of the station and a line of people snaked from the front door and down the sidewalk. They weren’t the kind of people who’d shown up before. No cops from other precincts or private detectives or reporters or parents. This group looked like the Rocky Horror audience.
She brushed past them, ignoring their clamoring voices, and went into the station. Cal was at his desk, looking dazed and confused.
Earl sat at the other patrol desk. At Ellie’s entrance he smiled tiredly and said, “I just took a statement from a man who lives on the planet Rebar.”
Ellie frowned. “What?”
“That’s who came looking for the girl. A man—no, an ambassador—from Rebar. He had a tinfoil hat and black lips.”
Ellie sat down at her desk with a sigh. “Let ’em in, Earl. One at a time.�
�
“You’re going to talk to them?” Cal asked.
“Just ’cause they’re crazy doesn’t mean they don’t know something.”
Earl went to the door and opened it. The woman he let in wore a flowing purple dress, cowboy boots, and a blue suede headband. In her hands she held a baseball-sized crystal ball.
Another psychic.
Ellie smiled and reached for her pen.
For the next two hours she and Earl and Peanut listened to one crackpot after another tell them who Alice really was. Her favorite answer: Anastasia, reborn.
When the last man finally told his story and left, Ellie leaned back in her chair and sighed. “Where did they all come from?”
Cal answered. “Mort’s picture. It makes the whole story seem unbelievable. Especially since he used words like flying and wolf girl. His story hinted that she eats only live insects and does sign language with her feet. I heard CNN pulled out of town.”
“This is so not good,” Peanut said, reaching for her grapefruit juice.
Cal jumped down from the desk. His tennis shoes hit with a little thump on the hardwood floor. “Use her,” he said quietly. “It’s our only choice.”
Ellie didn’t have to ask who Cal meant. She’d had the same thought herself.
“Julia?” Peanut said in a spiky voice. “But they’ll only care about what happened in Silverwood.”
“They’ll crucify her,” Ellie said, looking up at Cal. “‘Wolf girl works with disgraced doctor.’”
“What choice do we have?”
“I don’t know. . . .” Ellie said. “Today, when she heard about Mort’s photo, she looked as fragile as I’ve ever seen her.”
“She’ll do it for Alice,” Cal said.
JULIA WAS STILL TRYING TO FORMULATE A DREAMCATCHER-USE PLAN when Ellie barged into the room. Her keys and handcuffs jangled with every step. Behind her the dogs howled and scratched at the door, barking when she shut them out.
Alice ran for the plants and hid there.
Ellie clasped her keys and handcuffs, stilling them. “I need to talk to you.”
Julia fought the urge to roll her eyes. The interruption had come at a particularly tender time. “Fine.”
Ellie stood there a moment longer, then she said, “I’ll wait for you in the kitchen,” and left the bedroom.
Julia hid her pens and paper and notebooks. “I’ll be right back, Alice.”
Alice stayed hidden in her sanctuary, but when Julia reached for the knob, the child started to whimper.
“You’re upset,” Julia said softly. “You’re feeling afraid that I won’t come back, but I will.” There was nothing else she could say. She could only teach Alice about trust by returning. One of the fundamental truths of psychiatry was that sometimes you had to leave a patient who needed you.
She slipped out of the room and shut the door behind her.
Alice’s low, pitiful howling could be heard through the door. The dogs were in the hallway, sitting up on their haunches, howling with Alice.
She went downstairs and found Ellie out on the porch. It wasn’t surprising. For as long as they’d been a family, important business and celebration had been taken care of outside. Rain or shine.
Ellie was sitting in Dad’s favorite chair. Of course. Ellie had always drawn strength from their father, just as Julia had gotten hope from her mother. The choice of Ellie’s chair meant something Big was on her mind.
Julia sat in the rocker. A soft breeze kicked up in the yard, sent drying leaves cartwheeling across the grass. The gurgling song of the Fall River filled the air. She looked at her sister. “I need to get back to her. What’s up?”
Ellie looked pale, shaken even.
It unnerved Julia to see her powerhouse of a sister look beaten. She leaned forward. “What is it, Ellie?”
“The reporters are leaving town. They think the whole wild child thing is a hoax. By tomorrow the Gazette and maybe the Olympian will be the only papers still writing about the story.”
Julia knew suddenly what this was about, why Ellie looked nervous.
“We need you to talk to the press,” Ellie said softly, as if the timbre of her voice could remove the sting from the words.
“Do you know what you’re asking of me?”
“What choice do we have? If the story dies, we may never know who she is. And you know what happens to abandoned kids. The state will warehouse her, ignore her.”
“I can get her to talk.”
“I know. But what if she doesn’t know her name? We need her family to come forward.”
Julia couldn’t deny it. As painful as this decision was, the stakes were clear. It came down to her best interest versus Alice’s. “I wanted to have something to tell them. A success that could be balanced against the failures. They won’t—”
“What?”
Believe in me. “Nothing.” Julia looked away. The silvery river caught her gaze, reflecting like a strand of sunlight against the green lawn. In that instance of brightness, she recalled the flash of the camera lights and the barrage of ugly questions. When the press went in for the kill, there was nothing that could protect you; the truth least of all. She was damaged goods now; they wouldn’t listen to her opinion on anything. But they’d put her on the front page. “I guess I can’t be any more ruined,” she said at last, shivering slightly. She hoped her sister didn’t notice.
But Ellie saw everything; she always had. Becoming a police officer had only heightened a natural skill for observation. “I’ll be there with you all the time. Right beside you.”
“Thanks.” Maybe it would make a difference, not being so damned alone when the cameras rolled. “Schedule a press conference for tonight. Say . . . seven o’clock.”
“What will you tell them?”
“I’ll tell them what I can about Alice. I’ll show them the pictures and reveal a few interesting behavioral observations and let them ask their questions.”
“I’m sorry,” Ellie said.
Julia tried to smile. “I’ve lived through it before. I guess I can live through it again. For Alice.”
JULIA COULD HEAR THE RACKET GOING ON IN THE POLICE STATION. Dozens of reporters and photographers and videographers were out there, setting up their equipment, running sound and picture checks.
She and Ellie and Cal and Peanut were crammed into the employee lunchroom like hot dogs in a plastic pack.
“You’ll be fine,” Ellie said for at least the tenth time in the same number of minutes.
As he had each time, Cal agreed.
“I’m worried about Alice,” Julia said.
“Myra is sitting just outside her door. She’ll call if Alice makes a peep,” Ellie said. “You’ll be fine.”
Peanut said, “They’ll call her a quack.”
Ellie gasped. “Peanut.”
Peanut grinned at Julia. “I use that technique on my kids. Reverse psychology. Now anything they say will sound good.”
“No wonder your kids keep piercing their body parts,” Cal remarked.
Peanut flipped him off. “At least I don’t go to conventions in costume.”
“I haven’t worn a costume in twenty years.”
Earl appeared at the door. Everything about him looked spit-shined, from his faded red comb-over to his lacquer-coated dress shoes. The creases in his uniform were laser sharp. “They’re ready for you, Julia.” He flushed, stammered, “I mean Dr. Cates.”
One by one they peeled out of the lunchroom; the five of them collected again in the hallway.
“I’ll go first to introduce you,” Ellie said.
Julia nodded. For Alice, she thought.
Ellie walked down the hallway and turned the corner.
For Alice.
Then Earl was beside her, taking her arm.
She followed him down the hall, around the corner, and into the flash of her old life.
The crowd went wild, hurling questions like hand grenades.
“Qui-et!” Elli
e yelled, holding her hands out. “Let Julia talk.”
Gradually the crowd stilled.
Julia felt their eyes on her. Everyone in the room was judging her right now, finding her lacking in both judgment and skill. She drew in a sharp breath and caught it. Her gaze scanned the room, looking for a friendly face.
In the back row, behind the reporters and photographers, were the locals. The Grimm sisters (and poor Fred, in ash form), Barbara Kurek, Lori Forman and her bright-faced children; several of her high school teachers.
And Max. He gave her a nod and a thumbs-up. It was surprising, but that show of support helped calm her nerves. In Los Angeles, she’d always felt totally alone in facing the press.
“As all of you know, I’m Dr. Julia Cates. I’ve been called to Rain Valley to treat a very special patient, whom we’re calling Alice. I know that many of you will wish to focus on my past, but I beg you to see what matters. This child is nameless and alone in the world. We need your help in finding her family.” She held up a photograph. “This is the girl we’re calling Alice. As you can see she has dark hair and blue-green eyes—”
“Dr. Cates, what would you say to the parents of those children who died in Silverwood?”
Once she’d been interrupted, all hell broke loose. The questions came at her like shrapnel.
“How do you live with the guilt—”
“Did you know Amber had purchased a gun—”
“Have you listened to the Death Knell lyrics—”
“—played the Doomsday Cavern video game?”
“Did you test her for an allergy to Prozac?”
Julia kept talking until her voice gave out. By the time it was over and the reporters had all run off to meet their deadlines, she felt utterly spent. Alone at the podium, she watched the people leave.
Finally, Ellie came up to her. “Jesus, Jules, that was bad,” she said looking almost as shaken as Julia felt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know—”
“You couldn’t have.”
“Can I do something to help?”
Julia nodded. “Watch Alice for me, will you? I need to be alone for a while.”
Ellie nodded.
Julia tried not to make eye contact with Peanut or Cal. They stood near his desk, holding hands. Both of them were pale. Peanut’s bright pink cheeks were streaked with tears.
Magic Hour Page 18