by Ann Gosslin
Talbot parked the golf cart under a canvas awning and switched it off. ‘He did ask about his father, though. Wanted to know if he was alive. When we assured him his dad was okay, the funny thing was, he looked scared, like a little kid about to be punished. I remember the boy’s exact words when we told him his dad was okay: Am I in trouble? Later on, somebody mentioned amnesia or delusions. Something about a… what’s it called… a fugue state.’
They returned to the house and a welcome blast of frigid air. ‘Let’s forget about the diagnosis for a minute,’ she said. ‘I’m interested in your impression of Tim. As a seasoned police officer, what was your gut reaction the first time you saw him, right after he was brought in?’
Talbot puffed out his cheeks. ‘Hard to say. Though one thing’s for sure. He didn’t look like a crazed killer. He looked like a scared kid. Not just lost, but…’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Haunted. Yeah, that’s the word. Like he’d seen a ghost.’
36
Albany, New York
June, Present Day
In an airless courtroom in Albany, Erin took a seat at a table by the lawyer appointed to Tim’s case. The judge, a stout woman with black hair coiled into a bun and a permanent crease between her eyes, studied the file in front of her before calling the proceedings to order.
Lydia Belmont and Dr Harrison were seated behind Erin, waiting to be called to give their accounts. For the past twenty minutes, Tim’s lawyer had presented the details of the case. In a moment, it would be her turn to provide the results of her assessment. Dressed in a navy trouser suit and black pumps, Erin hoped she projected the proper air of seriousness and restraint the occasion called for. What happened today would change the course of Tim’s life.
When asked to speak, she cleared her throat and sipped from a glass of water before standing to address the judge. With her notes on the table in front of her, she launched into it.
Having completed the mandated evaluation process, Timothy Warren Stern, Jnr, remanded to Atherton State Asylum for the Criminally Insane, now Greenlake Psychiatric Facility, in February 1978, after being declared not guilty by reason of insanity for the murders of his mother and sisters, was – in her professional opinion – neither a danger to himself, nor to others.
As long as he continued to take his prescribed medication and was offered the appropriate social support to assist his re-entry into the community, she recommended he be released into the care of his father.
As soon as she’d said her piece, Erin sat down and folded her hands in her lap, examining the judge’s impassive face for a sign of how things might go. Once the ruling was made, they would be informed of the court’s decision within three days.
*
When Harrison called two days later with the news of Tim’s release, Erin was not terribly surprised and also relieved to know that Tim would be living in a beautiful house in the Vermont countryside, and not shunted off to another state facility. But an undercurrent of unease still needled her gut, especially at night while lying in bed, waiting for sleep to release her from the worries of the day.
‘Thank you for letting me know,’ she said. ‘Is there anything else you need from me? Any follow-up?’
‘Nothing from our side.’ Harrison’s voice faded in and out, as if he were phoning her from the bottom of a well. ‘But I’d like to extend my heartfelt thanks and appreciation, Dr Cartwright, for the time and care you’ve put into Tim’s case.’
‘It seems to have worked out in everyone’s favour,’ she said, trying to keep any hint of doubt from her voice. Would it be overstepping the bounds to ask him to keep her updated on Tim’s status, once the move to Vermont had taken place? Though Lydia might be more sympathetic to her desire to stay in touch.
After hanging up the phone, she sank onto the leather sofa in her office, uncertain whether the feebleness in her limbs was a sign of relief or the beginning of a new wave of worry. Whatever the case may be, her part in the Stern family murders was over. As for Tim, the die was cast. Whatever happened now was out of her hands.
She opened the windows wide to let in the fresh morning air. Sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves and cast a golden glow on the lawns. In full glorious bloom at last, the celebrated meadows, an undulating tapestry of colour, shimmered in the breeze. If she were to walk amongst the throng of blossoms, they would surely be alive with the buzz and tumult of bees.
Closing her eyes, she tried to teleport herself into the landscape, until she could smell the scent of honeysuckle perfuming the air and feel the flowers brushing her bare arms. She took a deep breath. It was over. Tim Stern was no longer her problem to solve.
Though a few details still rankled. On the plane back to New York, following her meeting with Detective Talbot, she had briefly toyed with the idea of following up on the information he let slip about Stern’s alibi. The mystery woman who’d spent the night with Stern in his hotel room, who just happened to have family living on Gardiner Road. A coincidence? Perhaps, but too tantalising to brush aside, and there was only one way to find out. But as her plane touched down at La Guardia, she had decided to let it go. Why reopen old wounds? Entering the vipers’ nest would blow her cover and might even set off a chain of events that torpedoed her job. It was all over now, in the past where it belonged. Time to focus on her patients and to get on with her life
She had a few minutes before her next patient session was due to begin. Admitted three months ago, fifteen-year-old Meghan should have been discharged this week, but she was still struggling with depressive symptoms and suicidal thoughts. Her wealthy parents had been more than willing to extend her stay for another month, if not more. Meghan had responded well to treatment at first, but as the weeks wore on, she seemed to regress, incandescent with rage that her parents had hauled her out of school and away from her friends. At least the girl’s anger was a good sign. It meant she’d stopped bottling up her emotions and was experiencing the raw pain of her distress.
It would be a challenge to break through the wall of all that anger, to the hurt and terror smouldering below. But in Erin’s experience, the ones who could access their rage were easier to reach. The outwardly angelic girls, wraithlike and luminous as ghosts, who insisted they were perfectly fine, were another thing. Those were the cases that kept her up at night.
With Tim no longer taking up space in her head, she finally had time for other pursuits. Perhaps she could sign up for a cooking class, or something calming, like yoga or meditation. Get out more, make some friends. Perhaps consider dating again. She glanced at her watch. Ten minutes until her session with Meghan. On impulse, she picked up her mobile and punched in Ray’s number. When he answered, his voice sounded distracted.
‘Hi, it’s Erin.’
A muffled cough, the shuffling of feet. Was he with someone? Stupid of her to call. Of course, he wasn’t alone.
‘Erin?’ Ray’s voice was hoarse, as if he’d just woken up, or recently taken up smoking. A siren blared in the background, followed by the scrape and bang of a window being closed. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Everything’s fine.’ She smiled into the phone. ‘I was just calling to say that Tim’s been released from Greenlake.’
‘Tim’s out?’ He coughed again. ‘Well, that calls for a celebration. Why don’t you come into the city for dinner? Or we could meet somewhere else. Manhattan’s a cesspool in this heat.’
She thought fast. Somewhere on the train line would work. ‘How about Dobbs Ferry?’
‘Perfect. I’ve been wanting to visit the provinces.’ He laughed. ‘At least there’ll be a breeze up there. Shall we meet on the train platform at seven? I’ll be the guy with the red carnation in his buttonhole. In case you’ve forgotten how I look.’ He paused, as if not wanting to end the call. ‘It’s really good to hear from you, Erin.’
She hung up, smiling. It was good to hear his voice, especially now that her heart felt a hundred pounds lighter. He’d sounded happy to hear from her. A surprise,
considering how they’d left things the last time. Fleeing his flat like a crazy person when he’d asked about the scar. Perhaps this ongoing flirtation with Ray – if that’s what it was – might actually turn into something.
*
True to his word, Ray was waiting for her on the platform at the stroke of seven. Italian loafers, crisp white shirt, a dark blue linen jacket slung over his shoulder. She smiled as she spotted the red carnation in the buttonhole. As she stepped from the train in her strappy, high-heeled sandals, she felt a bit wobbly on her feet. She rarely wore heels, but relished the extra inches of height they provided, and the feel of warm air on her toes.
Ray leaned in to kiss her cheek. ‘Success becomes you.’ In the soft light of early evening, his eyes were clear as amber.
Indeed. She hadn’t felt this carefree in months.
He took her arm. ‘Shall we walk a bit?’
For the first time in Ray’s company, she could actually let down her guard and be herself. Shed at last the serious demeanour of Dr Cartwright and just be… Erin. No more quizzing Ray about Tim or forcing him to dredge up memories of schoolboy antics from a lifetime ago. Today, they were simply two people, a man and woman, strolling along the river on a summer evening, as swallows swooped over the water, and pleasure boats churned upstream. The sun was deliciously warm on her bare arms, and when Ray took her hand, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
With no need to keep secrets any more, she could relax a little. Perhaps, the next time they met, or the time after, she would even feel ready to tell him who she was. Haul all those festering lies into the light, until they shrivelled on the vine and blew away.
*
The evening with Ray passed like a dream. A perfect meal at a lively restaurant on the water, a shared bottle of wine, an after-dinner stroll as the sun sank into the bluffs across the river. Whatever awkwardness she’d felt with him on previous occasions had vanished. With the Stern case behind her, they were free to discuss other things. Books, art, travel. A memorable meal, all-time favourite films.
After walking her to the station, Ray pulled her into his arms and kissed her while they waited for her train. In his kiss, she could sense the sorrow of parting. But it wouldn’t be for long. They made a date for the following Saturday to visit an exhibition at the Met, and there was a new Sicilian restaurant in the Village he wanted to try. After that, if things went well, she could picture a whole series of outings and weekends in the city. As the train clattered north, her heart thumped with anticipation of all that was to come. For the first time in many years, the future spread before her like an endless plain of possibilities.
The ringing of her phone punctured her dreamy mood. She glanced at the unfamiliar number on the screen and considered letting it go to voicemail. But it might concern one of her patients.
‘Dr Cartwright?’
A youngish voice, faint but defiant. ‘Who’s calling?’ Erin asked.
‘I’ve been arrested. I need you to pick me up.’
‘Who is this?’ Assuming it was a prank, Erin was about to hang up, but then the penny dropped. ‘Cassie, is that you? What’s going on, where are you?’
‘In Lansford, at the police station.’ Her voice quavered. ‘
I’ll be right there.’ Erin’s heart flipped over in surprise. Cassie wanted her help.
As soon as the train pulled into the station, she ran to her car. By the time she hurried into the police station, thirty minutes had passed. Erin was flushed and out of breath. They would think she was hysterical if she didn’t pull herself together, so she bent to sip cold water from a drinking fountain and smoothed back her hair, before approaching the duty officer and stating her name.
He gave her a weary look. ‘Are you the girl’s parent or legal guardian?’
‘I’m her doctor,’ Erin said. ‘Can you tell me what the charges are?’
In her floaty summer dress and strappy sandals, she didn’t look like a doctor, but she had proof, of course, in case he asked.
He hesitated for a moment before turning to consult the booking sheet. ‘Trespassing, vandalism, disorderly conduct. All Class-B misdemeanours. No bail’s been set. She’s got a court date next week. If you’re planning to sign her out, I’ll need to see some ID.’
As he wrote down the number on her driving licence, Erin could hear the rattle of keys and the clanging of doors. A female officer escorted Cassie from the cell block. When they reached the desk, the sergeant handed Cassie a brown envelope with her things – wallet, keys, shoelaces, belt – and asked her to sign for them.
Cassie avoided Erin’s eyes as she grabbed the envelope and retreated to a wooden bench to lace her sneakers. ‘Like I’m supposed to, what, hang myself with my shoelaces?’ she said when she caught Erin looking at her.
Erin turned away to address the officer. ‘Do you need anything else?’
‘No, we’re done here.’ He tossed his pen on the desk. ‘But if you want my advice, Dr… er, Cartwright,’ he said, reading her name off the form. ‘You might want to scare the crap out of that girl. Kid like that…’ he jerked his thumb in Cassie’s direction. ‘It starts with minor stuff, you know? But then it escalates. Drugs, petty larceny, or worse. I’d hate to see her back here in six months.’
Cassie waited by the front door, arms across her chest in a posture of defiance. Smudged eyeliner, a bruised lip. A tiny gold hoop threaded through her left nostril glinted under the fluorescent light.
Behind the wheel of her car, Erin waited for Cassie to settle in before starting the engine. The lights in the empty car park cast a sulphurous glow on the deserted street.
‘I’m glad you called me.’
Cassie was hunched in the seat, her head turned away.
Erin waited. ‘How did you get my number?’
Cassie looked down at her hands, examining the fingers black with ink. She sniffed the back of her arm. ‘I stink. That cell was gross. Can you take me home now?’
Erin folded her hands in her lap, listening to Cassie breathe. If necessary, she would wait all night. This time, she wanted some answers.
A noisy sigh. ‘When they were checking me out of that loony bin of yours, I got a look at the computer screen. Your phone number was right there with your address and birthday, and everything. I’m guessing the lady at the front desk isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer.’
Her birthday? ‘Did you send me a birthday card, back in March?’
‘Maybe.’ Cassie slid down on her tailbone and closed her eyes. ‘I’m tired. Can we go now?’
Erin started the car and pulled into the street. ‘Where to?’ Cassie snorted ‘You know where I live. I’ve seen you drive by my house like a million times. I could report you for stalking, you know.’
She waited for more, but Cassie seemed deflated. Spending a few hours in a jail cell would knock the stuffing out of anyone.
So, mystery solved. Cassie had sent her the birthday card. No reason to have panicked. It was a good sign. In her own troubled way, Cassie had made the first move in what would undoubtedly be a complicated game of ‘catch me if you can’.
Erin couldn’t help but smile. That bridge she’d been waiting for? It had appeared at last.
37
The Meadows
Lansford, New York
July, Present Day
‘Dr Cartwright? It’s Lydia Belmont.’ Her voice was muffled by the hum of traffic. ‘I’m calling about Tim Stern.’
‘Is everything all right?’ In the middle of a staff meeting, Erin signalled to Niels that she needed to step outside.
‘He’s in the hospital.’
‘Where? Greenlake?’ She felt a twinge of unease.
‘No, in Burlington. He was admitted to their psych ward two days ago.’ Lydia paused. ‘They had to forcibly restrain him. When I called this morning, he was still heavily sedated. I’m on my way over there now.’
The shock of the news struck Erin speechless. How long had Tim been at his
father’s? Not more than three weeks, or was it four? ‘Did he stop taking his meds?’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Lydia said. ‘They only mentioned that he was in an extremely agitated state when he was brought in. Nearly incoherent, at first.’ She fell silent. ‘He said his father tried to kill him.’
A strange paralysis gripped Erin’s limbs, and for a moment she couldn’t move. Her worst nightmare, that something dreadful would happen once the two of them were alone in the house, had come to pass. But in spite of her suspicions about Stern, it was his safety she’d been worried about, not Tim’s. Had Lydia got it wrong? Surely Tim was the wild card in this case. The stress of leaving Greenlake must have tipped him into the swamplands of paranoia and fear.
‘Have you spoken to Mr Stern?’
‘Not yet, but I did talk to the psychiatrist on call,’ Lydia said. ‘He thought Tim might have had a panic attack, brought on by the stresses of the move.’
The meeting had broken up and Niels, coming through the door with the rest of the staff, motioned for her to stop by his office.
‘Sorry, what was that?’ Erin said. She’d missed half of Lydia’s side of the conversation.
‘I was saying that Dr Harrison isn’t able to get away on such short notice. He wondered if you could drive up there to see what’s going on.’
She’d have to check her calendar, though it wouldn’t be a simple matter to drop everything and drive up to Burlington. A good three hours away, if not more, and there was no telling how long she’d have to stick around once she got there. She had her own patients to think of, and a full diary of responsibilities.
After hanging up, Erin felt an overwhelming urge to skip town. Would this case never go away? But that something had gone wrong wasn’t a complete surprise. Nothing ever played out as expected, and Tim’s move to Vermont, no matter how seamless on paper, was never going to be all sunshine and roses.