The Grey Door

by Danna Wilberg

  “Mom and dad?”

  “And Candy.”

  “Yes. I’m beginning to see that she was more troubled than devious. I still wonder at times if it was her watching me. Once she was gone, I still felt a presence…someone there, you know?”

  “Have you felt it since you’ve been home?”

  “No, thank God! And I have my dog, Sneaky. She’s my bodyguard.”

  “You think Jess may have been stalking you?”

  Grace’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I even saw him in my dreams.”

  “You have a team of experts to keep you safe.”

  “Perhaps you’re right.” Grace rose. “How about a cup of coffee with me?”

  “No thanks, but you go ahead. I’m cutting back. Caffeine and I are becoming enemies.”

  It was Grace’s turn to become misty eyed. She reached for Dr. Meltz’s hand and squeezed. “Thank you.”

  “For?”

  “For believing in me. For being the dad I never had. For loving me like a daughter.”

  “If there is one person in this world you can depend on, it’s me. I will always be here for you, for as long as I walk this planet. After that? You may have to consult “Rosie,” my intuitive.”

  “Intuitive? You? Mr. Pragmatic?” Laughter rang like church bells.

  “I have a confession to make,” her face suddenly serious.

  “What is it, Grace?”

  “I think I have always loved you more than my dad.”

  “Oh, Gracie, I am flattered, but your dad isn’t so bad. He suffered from an overactive libido and an enlarged ego. Dangerous disease. I’m the lucky one.” He reached over, mussed her hair, and rose. “Sal said you have a client in ten. I better scoot.”

  “I’m so glad you came to see me.”

  “I’m still your shrink, don’t forget. You have a couple of bugs to work out, nothing more.”

  “I’ll be in touch, promise.”

  Dr. Meltz enveloped Grace in loving arms and made his exit. Grace noticed the room seem brighter. Her heart, lifted. All was right in her world…for the moment.

  Tiny’s deep voice resonated down the hallway. Grace took a quick sip of coffee and braced herself for an intense hour. Tiny had a lot to deal with. Grace was ready to help.

  “You doin’ okay, Miz Grace?”

  “Much better. How are you doing?” Grace noted Tiny’s grey pallor and the drop in his weight.

  “The medicine makes me fuckin’ vomit all day long.”

  “Yeah, I’m afraid the side effects are pretty nasty.”

  “I sweat like a pig, and my glands feel like they gonna explode.”

  “How are you sleeping?” Grace wanted to go to the source of his true misery. The poison in his soul.

  “I see her. I see that girl lookin’ at me. I be seeing her everywhere. Even here.”

  “Here?” Grace hid her anticipation. “What do you mean, here?”

  “Th’ other day I came to give Miz Sal a check. This girl be sittin’ there staring at me like a spoiled chicken dinner or somethin’. I look back at her, and I see them eyes, just like that girl.”

  Grace’s flesh burst into tiny bumps as energy shimmied up her spine. Sal was right.

  “What goes through your mind when you see girls who look like the girl you raped?”

  “It wasn’t the girl, eh, in my dream. She just look like the girl.”

  “Her eyes?”

  Tiny turned away. “Yez’im.”

  “Has this ever happen to you before?”

  “No. It freaked me out. Ya know?”

  “I can imagine.” Grace leaned back in her chair. She sat quiet, waiting for Tiny to continue.

  Tiny stared at the floor. Grace didn’t budge. The clock on the

  wall ticked away minutes of silence.

  “She’d be about forty-something ’bout now. Like the woman who was starin’. Maybe that’s what’s botherin’ me. I ain’t never gonna get the chance to tell her sorry.”

  “You can write a letter. Sometimes that helps.”

  “Shi-i-it. Right. Like I be fuckin’ Wadsworth.”

  “No one says it has to be a masterpiece. No one will be judging the content. The exercise is for you to put your thoughts outside yourself.” Another shiver took Grace by surprise. Wilde Defoe rewrote the ending to his story. Look where it got him? “You can write her an apology. Say what’s in your heart. It may help.”

  “Gotta do somethin’. Don’t have much time.”

  “What do the doctors say?”

  “My liver’s wasted. One kidney practically shut down.”

  “How do you feel about dying?”

  Tears welled in Tiny’s eyes. He looked away. He shuffled large feet. “Well, at least I’ll see my brother. I’m sure he be down there waitin’ for me.”

  “Down there?”

  Tiny snickered. “You don’t think I be going’ to heaven now, do ya?”

  “I think where you “go” depends on what you believe. Are you afraid?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Let’s talk about your fear…”

  Grace sent Tiny away with a fresh notepad, two pencils with perfect erasers, and a ballpoint pen. Tiny clutched the pad to his heart as if what he was feeling would magically transfer onto the paper. Grace wanted to give him a hug and tell him all was forgiven, but it wasn’t her place to exonerate his misdeeds. She would listen. She would be there to help him die.

  She was about to close the door, chart her notes, and regroup when suddenly she heard a commotion in the waiting room. Arlene? The woman was screaming.

  “What’s going on?”

  “It’s the bad boy!” Arlene shouted.

  “Bitch, you dunno what the fuck you be talkin’ bout!” Tiny denied, his large frame trembling.

  “You hurt me! You hurt my sister! My dad said not to let the

  bad boys in!”

  Grace nodded to Sal, who held the phone in one hand and pepper spray in the other. “Sal, I want to see Tiny in two days, same time. Arlene, come with me.” Grace’s eyes pleaded with Tiny to unclench his fists and leave quietly.

  “That’s a pretty sweater you’re wearing today, Arlene,” Grace said calmly, ushering the woman into her office. Once they were seated, Grace leaned forward.

  “Now, what was that all about?”

  “He’s the bad boy!”

  “How do you know that, Arlene?” Stupid question. Arlene glared at Grace in a way she had never done before. Arlene’s anger grew fangs. It reached out, wanting to take a bite out of Grace’s face.

  “It’s him,” Arlene seethed. Spittle flew from her tight lips. “I didn’t let him in. He pushed me. He pushed me. He pushed me. Arlene’s eyes blazed, remembering. “The doorbell rang. I opened the door. He pushed me! Adelle was behind me. She almost fell when I stepped on her foot.”

  “Where was your father?”

  “He wouldn’t get up to answer the door like mom told him to.”

  “What was he doing?”

  “Drinking, like he always did when he came home.” Grace scribbled comments on the lined paper. “Tell me about the boys.

  How many where there?”

  “Four. That boy was one of them.”

  “What happened, happened a long time ago—” Grace’s heart pounded in her chest. She knew what Arlene was saying was true. She had suspected Tiny was the “boy” all along. Now? There’s no mistake. Tiny Burton beat and raped Arlene Pratt almost thirty years ago. Yet there was nothing she could do. Sworn to protect the privacy of her clients meant her lips were sealed like an envelope. If justice were to prevail, it would have to come from another source.

  I can’t do this. Her lids felt heavy, fighting an onslaught of tears.

  “Tell me what you’re feeling right now, Arlene.”

  “I heard my mother screaming. I couldn’t move to help her. The fat boy was on top of me. My mother was screaming for my sister. My sister was crying. I don’t think she heard my mothe
r. My dad didn’t say anything. He didn’t help us.”

  “Maybe he couldn’t.”

  “Yeah, he was probably dead.” Arlene’s hands lie still in her lap. Her knees pressed together so tight they looked white. “What should I do?”

  Grace’s blood pressure raised a notch. An electrical impulse hummed through her limbs. “What would you like to do?”

  “Tell the police.”

  The humming feeling turned to ice water.

  “What are you going to tell the police?”

  “I saw the bad boy. He was right here. You saw him.”

  “Do you know what privileged information means?”

  “No.”

  “I can’t talk about what you tell me in this room with anyone. Not even the police. What you tell me is privileged information. It stays right here in this room, between you and me.”

  “Sal saw him too!” Arlene’s eyes grew large. Color rose in her cheeks. A small blue vein snaked across the corner of her forehead. “I’m telling! I’m telling! I’m telling!”

  “That’s your right, but I can’t tell. Do you understand?”

  “I hate you. You won’t help me. You’re not my friend.”

  “That’s okay, Arlene,” Grace said softly, leaning closer to Arlene’s rigid body. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

  ***

  “He’ll die in prison,” Grace heard herself say.

  “That’s the breaks,” Dr. Meltz confirmed.

  “You’re not much help. There must be some way to bring this nightmare to an end.”

  “Yeah, the creep gets locked up, and the girl, well, maybe she gets the chance to grow up now.”

  “You’re right. She’s been stuck in her childhood for thirty years. I see a breakthrough already.”

  “You’re hands are tied, Grace. Privileged information is meant to protect the clients.”

  “He’s genuinely sorry.”

  “Too bad.”

  “Why does life have to be so hard?”

  “Sometimes it just is.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Meltz. I better start getting my ducks lined up. I don’t want there to be any misinterpretation if we get subpoenaed to court on this.”

  “Let me know what I can to help, kiddo. Get some rest: doctor’s orders.”

  Grace dialed another number. “Paul, je temme, I may have to pass on our date this evening. Something came up at work I need to tend to. Can we meet for desert? Later? My place?” Call waiting beeped in. Grace switched over. “Hello?”

  “Hi, sweetheart. Didn’t hear my phone.”

  “I was leaving you a message. I have to work late. How about

  I pick up some desert on my way home?”

  “Mon deu! Desert?”

  “Got something else in mind?” Grace asked.

  “I thought we could start with dinner.”

  “My, my, you are old fashioned.”

  “How late are we talking?”

  “Eightish.”

  “I’ll see you then. Can I fix something for you?”

  “Aw, so sweet. I’ll grab a bite here. I’m swamped.”

  “Fine, see you later.” Grace sensed no disappointment. Will it always be this way? She hoped he would remain understanding and thoughtful. Just then, her phone vibrated in her hand. Maybe not. “Hello?” No response. “Hello?” A chill zipped up her spine. “Hello!” >click<

  ***

  Jess’s lips stretched into a satisfied grin. He wanted to mock Grace’s pitiful hello. Oh, Grace, you have no idea how naughty I can be. Jess snapped the phone shut and slipped it into his pocket. He laughed out loud. “No idea!”

  The announcement for his flight came over the speaker, loud and clear, “Now boarding Flight 767 for Buenos Ares.” Jess picked up his duffle bag. “Later, babe.” I’m not finished with you.

  Jess boarded the plane, sliding in beside a young woman with big brown eyes. “Hi, looks like you’re stuck with me for the next few hours. The name’s Bob. Bobby. Bobby Wells.” Jess fluffed his short blond hair and fastened his seatbelt. “I hate flying. Makes me nervous.”

  “Me too,” she said, trying to avert his eyes.

  “Maybe if we keep talking, time will pass quickly and we’ll be there before we know it.”

  “Sí.” Her eyes connected with his. “Bobby?” she repeated.

  “Bobby Wells. And you are?”

  “Juanita Perez.”

  “Juanita,” he repeated. “Pretty name.”

  Juanita’s shyness showed in her slight smile. Her long lashes fluttered, dodging Jess’s probing looks, but by the time the plane’s wheels were neatly tucked beneath its wings, the young woman was tangled in Jess’s web of deceit.

  ***

  Grace’s palms felt clammy. The vein in her neck throbbed. A high-pitch ring reverberated in her ears. She sensed something cold course through her body. Jess. Her hands began to shake as she dialed Detective Spiderelli.

  “What makes you think it was him?”

  The question stung a bit, coming from this man of all people.

  Her breath came out heavy. “Should I have called someone else?”

  “No. No. You did the right thing. Did you hear any background noise?”

  “Let me think: it sounded like his hand covered the mouthpiece,” she paused. “Loud engines. Trucks maybe? No, louder.”

  “Airplanes?”

  “Possibly. Everything happened so fast.”

  “I’ll need your phone.”

  “Shall I bring it down to the station?”

  “No. I’ll come to you.”

  Spiderelli appeared ten minutes after Grace hung up the phone. His hair showed signs of grey. His walk lacked some of the bounce she had come to know. She wondered what it must be like to work with toxic people on a daily basis. What she dealt with were problems, most of them self-inflicted. Spiderelli dealt with the aftermath of someone else’s wrong-doing. Tiny Burton came to mind.

  “You got here fast,” Grace said. “Believe it or not, you were on my mind.” “Having trouble sleeping?

  “Nope. Got a phone call today. Pretty unusual.”

  “Hey now, I’m the one getting hang-ups from a serial killer.”

  “You got me beat on that one!” Spiderelli tipped his hat. “No, I’d like to run a little scenario by you,” he said, leaning against the wall. “Say a guy commits a crime thirty years ago…”

  Grace’s mouth went dry. Her face remained poised. “And?” “And he’s dying and now he wants to confess.” Grace’s left eye began to twitch.

  “I’m sure you’ve handled situations like that before. Don’t you get people confessing to all sorts of crimes they didn’t commit?”

  “Who says he didn’t commit it?”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Suppose this guy wants to get this crime off his conscience because he doesn’t have long to live, and he feels he may have time to make restitution.”

  “How nice for him. What is this all about, Spider? It’s not like you to speak in riddles.”

  “One of your clients called me today—Tiny Burton.”

  Bees swarmed in her stomach. “I’m listening.”

  “He wants to confess to a crime he says he committed thirty years ago against the Pratt family. He didn’t go into detail, but God Bless Google. I had the case pulled up on my computer before he hung up the phone. He said he wanted to talk to you first.”

  “Detective Spiderelli, anything my clients tell me is privileged, you know that.”

  “Oh yeah, I know, but if they tell me, well then—”

  “I thought you came here to talk about Jess.”

  “I did. Two birds, one stone. Is that how the saying goes?”

  “I can talk about Jess. Do you want my phone?” She reached into her purse.

  “Here, let me have it. I can copy the sim card and get it back to you by morning.”

  “Thanks. How’s Jenna?”

  “She’s doin’ fine. Kathy got
her into counseling. My wife the angel of mercy, she managed to get a couple of pounds on her too.” Concerned eyes traveled the length of Grace’s body and

  back. “Pasta is great for what ails you.”

  “Anything else I can help you with, detective?”

  “Tiny Burton didn’t work alone. The crime scene was horrendous. Both parents bludgeoned to death, urinated, defecated on. Too bad we didn’t have DNA testing back then,” he said, casually flicking lint from his jacket. We could’ve determined who raped and sodomized the two teenage girls barely left alive. One of the girls ended up pregnant. One committed suicide. From what I read in the report, the older Pratt girl hung herself the day the younger one gave birth.” He tipped his hat again. “Shame these walls can’t talk,” he smoothed the flat surface with his hand. “Don’t care if he is dying. If he committed the crime, he should be locked up. Of course, a shrewd lawyer can drum up an insanity plea, isn’t that right?”

  Grace didn’t answer. She held his gaze.

  “I forgot how stubborn you can be,” he said affectionately.

  “I hope you are as persistent in finding Jess as you are in trying to pressure me.”

  “I’ll return your phone in the morning,” he said, turning the object in his hand. “Think about what I said, Grace. If you want, I can bring the crime scene photos by for you to see.”

  Grace sought the door, inviting Spiderelli to leave. “That won’t be necessary. Your case has no relevance here.”

  “He’s not dead yet. What if he decides to kill again?”

  “I thought you said the man called you to confess.”

  “Yeah, well, I just thought you could help us make his confession stick. You see, he won’t give any details. It’s like he’s fuckin’ with us.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, detective.” She stepped through the door into the hallway, encouraging him to follow her lead. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good day.”

  Grace sank into a chair, placing her head between her knees. The room swam and her heart beat like a conga procession during Mardi Gras. Just when her nerves began to calm, the phone rang, and she jumped. “Grace Simms,” she announced weakly. Arlene Pratt’s aunt spoke on the other end of the receiver. Grace felt as if snow were melting in her veins listening to the woman explain the tragic accident. “Arlene was on her way home from your office when in haste, she stepped into traffic. She’s in the hospital. Her spine, it’s crushed. The doctors don’t expect her to live through the night. She adored you. I thought maybe you could,” the woman broke down in tears, “come say goodbye.”