Arsonist

CHAPTER 9

Jon Stanton sat in the waiting room of Dr. Jennifer Palmer and stared at the imitation classical Greek statue that was up near the receptionist’s desk. It was carved out of marble and looked fairly new. A nude male was shown standing on a ball and ants were carrying him somewhere. He was stuck in a pose of anguish with his arm above his head, flexing his perfectly carved abdominal muscles.

“Mr. Stanton?”

“Yes,” he said, his gaze still on the statue.

“Dr. Palmer is ready to see you now.”

“Thank you.”

He rose and walked to the brushed wood double doors and opened them. Sitting at a large glass desk was a woman in her mid-thirties. Her hair was pulled back and she wore a skirt and a suit top with heels. She glanced up and then smiled.

“Jennifer Palmer, Detective. Nice to meet you.” She rose and shook his hand.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Please, have a seat over here if you don’t mind.”

She led him to two brown leather chairs and he sat down across from her. A coffee table was between them and she moved it out of the way. One wall of her office was made entirely of glass and looked down over the city. Stanton glanced out to the clouds that were overhead and then back to Dr. Palmer, who was quietly waiting for him to turn to her.

“I understand from your family physician that you’ve had an episode.”

“I suppose so. I don’t know if I would call it that. All the neurological tests came back negative so he thinks it might be psychological.”

“Do you think that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t see why they would hit me now.”

“What would hit you now?”

“Panic attacks.”

She nodded. “Dr. Patel told me you had a doctorate in psychology and that your father was a psychiatrist. But that you chose to abandon the field for police work.”

“Yeah.”

“What does your father think about that?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him since my mother’s death almost…almost twenty years ago.”

“Why haven’t you spoken to him?”

“We were never that close. He approached everything from an intellectual perspective and I didn’t.”

“How did you approach it?”

“I always thought feeling and imagination were more important than knowledge. Or at least as important. He didn’t see it that way.”

“Did he treat you differently because of that?”

“I think so. I was an only child and it was painful for him to cut me out, but in the end we both realized we disliked the kind of people we were.”

“How was your relationship with your mother, Jon? You don’t mind if I call you Jon, do you?”

“Not at all. It was good. Once the relationship with my father became strained I started spending less time with her too. I always regretted that. By the time I realized it, it was too late. She was already diagnosed with stage-four breast cancer.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. No matter how old you are the death of a parent is always traumatic.”

“Yeah, it was. She was really the only family I had. I don’t know any of my cousins or aunts and uncles; I didn’t know my grandparents…when she was gone, that was it.”

“Have you tried contacting your father?”

“Once, on the phone. He was really stand-offish and then said he had to go and hung up. I don’t think he’s forgiven me for converting to Mormonism.”

“Really? What faith is he?”

“He’s as hardened an atheist as you could be. He finds the entire idea of religion, not just the practical application, but the idea itself, ludicrous. To him, anyone that’s gullible enough to get suckered into religion doesn’t deserve any sympathy. He told me once religious people shouldn’t be allowed to vote.”

“Are you a devout Mormon?”

“Yes.”

“So I can see why there’s tension between you and your father. Have you talked to him about your conversion?”

“Just when I invited him to my baptism when I was eighteen. He refused to come. The only person there for me was my mother. She was really sick by then but she still came.”

She was silent a moment and just nodding. “I’d like to talk about this episode that occurred. Were you thinking about your father at the time?”

“No.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“I don’t know. Nothing, I think. We had raided a house and an innocent girl had gotten shot. The perp was in the bed. He was sitting up with a gunshot wound to the head and all his blood was emptying onto the bed.”

“That’s pretty graphic. Were you disturbed by that?”

“No.”

“Most people would be. Why were you not, do you think?”

“I don’t know. You get used to it. Or at least you convince yourself you do. But when I saw it, I started feeling lightheaded and then my chest started tightening. Before I knew what was happening, I had passed out.”

“What did you feel, Jon, the second you saw that body? What was the thought in your head?”

“I thought, how hard it was going to be for someone to get that blood stain out of those sheets.”

She laughed, and covered her mouth. “I am so sorry. That just wasn’t the answer I was expecting.” She scribbled down a few notes on a legal pad and cleared her throat. “Is that the first time you’ve ever had something like that occur? The attack I mean.”

“Yes.”

“Are you on any medications, Jon?”

“No.”

She stood up and took a prescription pad off her desk. “With your permission, I would like to write you a prescription for Xanax.”

“I don’t have anxiety.”

She glanced over to him and her eyes went down his arm to his fingers. He was rubbing his index finger and thumb together and hadn’t even noticed he was doing it until her gaze fixed on it. He stopped and put his hand on the armrest.

“There’s nothing wrong with medication, Jon. From what Dr. Patel told me about your work, it sounds like these attacks aren’t just an annoyance but that your life is at stake because of the situations you’re put in through your work. I think the Xanax will calm them, make them more manageable.” She handed him the scrip and sat back down across from him. “I’d like to talk a little bit more about your father if you don’t mind.”

Stanton glanced out the window. The clouds had accumulated and he could tell that rain would soon follow. He folded the slip of paper and put it in his jacket pocket and leaned back in the chair. “What do you want to know?”