Pray for Silence

CHAPTER 11

“That sounded urgent. Is everything all right?”

John Tomasetti looked across the span of desktop at his newest nemesis and resisted the urge to get up and walk out the door. “A case,” he muttered. “Agency business.”

Contemplating him, Dr. Warren Hunt leaned back in his sleek leather executive chair, the poster boy for patience and serenity, and nodded. “If you need to take care of business, there’s an adjoining office you’re free to use.”

Tomasetti looked down at the cell phone in his hand and tried not to think about Kate. Or the fact that instead of sitting in this office humiliating himself, he should be on his way to Painters Mill. “Let’s just . . . get this over with.”

The doctor smiled.

Tomasetti had never been a fan of doctors, but he hated shrinks with particular vehemence. He found all of their how-do-you-feel-about-that questions, their phony concern and not-so-covert glances at their watches obscenely disingenuous. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a choice but to tolerate Dr. Warren Hunt. The suits might call it progress, but John called it a crock of shit.

“Where were we?” the doctor asked.

Hunt was a nice enough guy. A little too preppy for someone his age; John guessed him to be in his mid-fifties. But he’d been through some tough times. He’d spent a year in Bosnia way back when. He’d been a cop in New Orleans during Katrina. But while those things held weight for Tomasetti, there was baggage, and then there was fucking baggage. He had the profound misfortune of possessing the latter.

“I think we were discussing my plethora of vices,” Tomasetti replied.

Hunt gave a small smile, then looked down at the file in front of him. Tomasetti knew it contained records—damning personal information from past doctors—another proviso he didn’t care for, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about any of it. And so here he was.

“I see you’ve had some problems with alcohol,” Hunt said. “Are you still drinking?”

Tomasetti looked across the gleaming span of rosewood, wondering how much of this would get back to his superiors. “I’ve cut back. A lot.”

“You still running?”

“I’m up to a couple of miles.” He hadn’t run for a week, but then he didn’t feel the need to confess.

“What about sleep?” Hunt asked. “You sleeping at night?”

“Better.”

“Sleep disturbances? Nightmares?”

“Sometimes.” For the last two and a half years—since the murders of his wife and two little girls—Tomasetti had been plagued by nightmares. More than one shrink had called them a by-product of post-traumatic stress disorder. They’d prescribed everything from Valium to antidepressants to antianxiety drugs to sleeping pills. The antidepressants seemed to do more harm than good, so John had stopped taking them almost immediately. The rest, however, he’d sucked down with the self-destructive glee of an addict.

Early on, the drugs had made his days bearable and the nights not quite so endless. He figured if he wasn’t thinking about blowing his brains out, the meds were working. Things began to improve after the Slaughterhouse case—after he met Kate. He weaned himself off the drugs. Not cold turkey, but one pill at a time. At first, everything had been all right. He started running. Taking care of a body he’d abused for more than two years. Just when he thought he was going to make it, everything went to shit.

Tomasetti wanted his life back. He wanted his job back. He wanted to go to Painters Mill to see Kate, help her with the case. The phone call he’d received from her earlier drove that need into his brain like a six-inch spike. She wouldn’t approve, but he worried about her. Too damn much if he wanted to be honest about it. But then he knew that bitch Fate had a habit of snatching away the things he cared about most.

His relationship with Kate was an anomaly; he’d never been a fan of female cops. Like their male counterparts, they could be a difficult lot. John figured he had enough problems just getting through the day without taking on a complicated woman. Not that he was looking. Not that she’d have him. Or so they both claimed.

She was one of the most interesting women he’d ever met. She was tough, capable and attractive as hell. This from a man who was not easily swayed by a pretty face. Evidently, he’d made an exception for her because she swayed him and then some.

In retrospect, Tomasetti knew that while it might have been the façade of tough that had initially drawn him to her, it was the barely discernible air of vulnerability that was the coup de grâce. Thrown together during a time of off-the-chart stress, and his fate had been sealed. Less than a week into the investigation, they’d ended up in bed. At first, it had been all about the sex. By the time he’d returned to Columbus, their relationship had turned into something else. Something he didn’t necessarily want, but he’d come to learn life didn’t give a damn about timing.

“So, you’re still having nightmares,” the doctor said. “How often? Once a week? Twice a week? More often?”

“A couple of times a week,” John answered. “Not as intense.”

“I wish you’d change your mind about the antidepressants.”

“I think my brain has enough problems without adding to the mix.”

“I know a few of the MAOI-class antidepressants have gotten some bad press in the last couple of years. But we could try one of the SSRIs. There are several good ones on the market. The supervised use of an antidepressant could be helpful in getting you back on track.”

Tomasetti’s life had been a train wreck for so long, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to put the mangled pieces back together in a form that made sense. “Not going to happen, Doc.”

“If you have a chemical imbalance—”

“We both know my being here has nothing to do with some goddamn chemical imbalance. It has to do with the people I care about getting slaughtered. How the hell do you equate that with a fucking chemical imbalance?”

“Stress hormones can affect serotonin levels.”

“Or maybe I’m just pissed off because some piece of scum took my family away from me.”

“Is that what you want to talk about today?”

“I don’t want to talk about shit today. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“I think we both know the only reason I’m here is because I’m trying to salvage my job.”

“Well, I’m glad you got that out in the open.” Hunt gave him a passable smile. “How do you feel about being put on leave?”

“I’m pissed. I want to work. I need to work. My being here is a waste of taxpayer’s money and a total waste of time. Mine and yours.”

The doctor stared at him for a while, then said, “Look, John, I know you don’t want to be here. I understand that. To be perfectly honest, you’re not exactly the ideal patient.”

“Now there’s a revelation.”

“The truth of the matter is you have some issues to deal with. Your not communicating with me isn’t going to help. I can’t do my job unless you talk to me. The sooner you’re straight with me, the sooner you’re out of here and back to work. We’re not going to progress until that happens.”

Tomasetti stared at him, aware that his heart was pounding. The words were a knot in his chest, being pulled inexorably tighter until he thought something inside him would rip apart. “I’m not getting any better,” he said after a moment.

“Why do you think that is?”

“It’s been two and a half years. I should be getting better. I’m not.”

“Healing takes time.”

“I’m getting worse.”

The doctor’s eyes sharpened, his expression taking on a knowing quality Tomasetti didn’t like. “Are you talking about your trip to the emergency room?”

Tomasetti looked away, wishing he’d been able to salvage just one shred of privacy. He honestly didn’t have much faith that this doctor could fix him, and he sure as hell didn’t want to dredge up one of the most degrading experiences of his life.

“Why don’t you tell me about that?” Hunt pressed.

Tomasetti shifted in the chair, caught himself fidgeting, and stilled. “I thought I was having a heart attack.”

“But your heart is fine, isn’t it?”

Tomasetti said nothing.

“What was the emergency room physician’s diagnosis?” the doctor asked.

“He said I’d experienced an anxiety attack.”

“Do you understand what that is?”

“I’ve read up on it.”

“Why don’t we talk about that?”

Sighing, Tomasetti looked out the window at the lights of the city beyond. Downtown Columbus was a bustling place this time of the evening. Happy hour was just heating up over at the Buckeye Pub on High Street. He could hear the traffic three stories down and wished he were out there. He wished he were anywhere but inside this office, inside his own skin, inside his own head.

“How much of this gets back to the suits at BCI?” he asked after a moment.

“Everything you and I talk about is confidential. You know that.”

“You have to tell them something. How else do they know whether or not I show up?”

“I give them attendance reports.”

“So how are they going to know when I’m fixed?”

A smile curved the doctor’s mouth. “I’ll include that in my final report.”

“How will you know when we get there?”

“Let’s just say we’re not there yet.” The doctor waited a beat. “John, tell me about the anxiety attacks.”

Tomasetti thought about walking out. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d walked out of a doctor’s office. But he knew it would be counterproductive. The last thing he wanted was to sabotage his job. His relationship with Kate aside, it was all he had left.

He shrugged. “They’re pretty much textbook. Pounding heart. Sweating. Chest so tight I can’t take a breath.”

“How do they make you feel?”

“Out of control.” Tomasetti wiped his wet palms on his slacks, realized what he was doing and stopped. “Scared shitless.”

“I can write you a prescription.”

“I think I’ve had more than my share of pills.”

Hunt frowned. “Let’s go back to the nightmares for a second.”

“What about them?”

“How do they make you feel?”

“They scare the fuck out of me.”

“Why do they scare you?”

“Because someone I care about always gets hurt. Or worse.”

“They die?”

“Sometimes.”

“Are you there? Witnessing it?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you try to help them?”

“I try. But I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s like I’m paralyzed or something.”

“Are we talking about your family? Nancy? The girls?”

This was the part Tomasetti didn’t want to talk about. If he said it aloud, he would have to acknowledge the possibility that it could really happen. “Not always.”

“Who else is it you dream about, John? Who is it you can’t help? Who can’t you talk to me about?”

“Someone I care about.”

“A partner? A cop? A personal relationship?”

“Personal.”

“Okay. That’s a starting point. Thank you.” Hunt’s eyes sharpened. “You know I have access to your personnel file, John. Because of the shooting you were involved in. I know about the case last January.”

“Most of it was in the papers.”

“I’m talking about the stuff that wasn’t in the papers.”

Tomasetti remained silent.

“Look, I used to be a cop. I know how close partners can get.”

“She isn’t my partner.”

“But you were working with her. You were there for an extended period of time. You were under tremendous stress.” Hunt looked down at his notes. “You got involved with the chief of police.”

Since it was a statement as opposed to a question, Tomasetti figured it didn’t require an answer. Not that he had one. Hell, he didn’t know what was happening between him and Kate. Were they involved? It had been two months since he’d seen her. Did that equate to a relationship? Maybe it was all in his head because he spent so much time thinking of her. Dreaming of her. Things had progressed too quickly, and neither of them was prepared to deal with the consequences. That’s what you got when you put together two people who were experts at sabotaging relationships.

“Is she the one you dream about?” the doctor pressed. “The one you can’t help?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you want to talk about her?”

“I think we’ve talked enough for now.” Rising, Tomasetti gathered his coat from the back of the chair.

“We’ve got twenty minutes left.”

“Give it to the next guy.”

“All right. Maybe we’ll get into that next week.”

Tomasetti left without responding.

June 5

I saw him at the park again. I sat on the bench by the gazebo and ate my lunch. He was taking pictures. I pretended not to watch, but I did. He has the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.

June 8

Mrs. Steinkruger snapped at me for daydreaming. I didn’t deserve her words. I took an early lunch at the park. He was there and asked why I was crying. I told him, and he laughed. I felt like such a baby. I let him take my picture. The Ordnung forbids it. Graven images and all that. But he said I was photogenic. That made me so happy I forgot all about Mrs. Steinkruger.

June 12

I ate lunch at the park again. He was there and asked me if I wanted to take a ride in his car. I knew it was wrong, but I did it. Oh, it was such fun! But I was scared one of my Amish brethren would see me. I will never forget this day!

June 25

He took me to Miller’s Pond. He snapped pictures while I ate my bologna sandwich. I love to watch him with his camera, so serious. We sat in his car and listened to music. Oh, how I love rock and roll!

June 27

He told me I was special. After lunch he removed my kapp. I know it’s wrong, but his fingers in my hair felt so lovely. He said I have pretty eyes. I want to tell Mamm and Datt that he is courting me, but I know they will not approve. I want him to be my kal. But he is an outsider. I’m afraid they’ll make me quit my job and I won’t be allowed to come into town anymore. For now, this is my secret.

June 28

I thought of him all through worship. Mamm asked me if I was ill. I laughed and told her no. But I miss him so much it hurts.

June 30

I haven’t seen him for two days. Mrs. Steinkruger asked me why I keep looking out the window. I wish she would be nicer to me.

July 6

I’m fifteen years old today! I rushed through my chores and got to work early. I ate my sandwich in the park, but he didn’t come. I miss him. I was on my way back to the shop when he showed up in his car and asked me to get in. I should have said no, but I couldn’t. He took me to Miller’s Pond and gave me a gift! English clothes! Blue jeans and a pretty pink shirt. I love them!

July 7

It happened today. He kissed me. My first ever. I couldn’t stop blushing. He thinks I’m a child, but I’m not. His mouth on mine was like poetry, soft and flowing and warm. Oh, I will never in a thousand years forget that kiss.

And so the saga of Mary Plank’s life goes.

I lie in my bed, propped up with pillows, and listen to the rain against the window. I hold Mary Plank’s journal in my right hand and a glass with two fingers of Absolut in my left. Reading the diary is like watching a train wreck in slow motion. I’m through the first month of her relationship with a man she hasn’t yet named. A man who is not Amish. An older man who has no regard for her age or the problems that will arise if her parents or the Amish community find out about them.

Impatient with myself for feeling more than I should for this girl I’ve never met, I skim several pages, looking for a name or clue that will tell me his identity. I end up in mid-July.

July 15

I sneaked out of the house last night. I was so scared! I don’t want to disappoint Mamm and Datt. How I wish for their blessing! I know they would grow to love him as much as I do. He was waiting for me at the end of the lane. He took me to Miller’s Pond, then we sat on the hood of his car and talked until the small hours of morning. I feel as if I’ve known him my entire life. I want to marry him!

July 16

My feelings for him scare me even more than the sneaking out. On the days I don’t see him, I’m sad. I know Mamm and Datt have noticed. How can I tell them I love a man who is not Amish?

July 17

I sneaked out and we went to a club in Columbus. I wore English clothes and drank alcohol. I know it is wrong, but I felt so sophisticated. He taught me how to dance! I didn’t want to leave. It was the most exciting night of my life!

July 18

He met me at the park for lunch. We held hands and he kissed me. I know it’s wrong, but I let him touch me. All the places a man touches a woman. I thought I would be embarrassed, but I wasn’t. When I got back to the shop, I was afraid Mrs. Steinkruger would know what I’d been doing. All she did was yell at me for being late.

July 20

It happened today. I sneaked out and we went for a moonlight drive. He took me to Miller’s Pond. Then we made love. It hurt, and there was blood. I had to wash my underclothes so Mamm would not find out. Sex before marriage is against the Ordnung. If I was found out, I would be expelled from the church. I would be let back in only after I confessed in front of everyone. I’m so confused. I feel guilty, but I love him. I pray for God to forgive me.

July 27

I haven’t seen him for a week. I can’t stop crying. I wait for him every day, but he never comes. Does he not understand how much this hurts me?

August 2

I sneaked out and he took me to a club in Columbus. We danced and danced. Later, he took me to the car and I lay with him again. I’m so confused!

August 7

I told him it was wrong for a man and woman to be together before their vows. He laughed when I told him I want to marry him. I was so angry I walked all the way back to the shop.

August 10

He apologized! He even brought me a gift, a necklace with a lavender stone. I will treasure it always. I wore it to the club and we danced. I drank wine, but this time it made me so dizzy I couldn’t walk or speak. We went to the car and made love. I barely remember. Next time, no wine!

August 12

He loves me! I’ve been waiting for him to say the words as I could not say them first. He took me to a motel. Our lovemaking was the best ever. How I want to tell Mamm and Datt about him!

August 16

We went to the motel after the club. Even though I drank only water, I couldn’t walk. I don’t remember lying with him. (Maybe I am not getting enough sleep?)

August 21

Mamm and Datt sat me down and talked to me. They’re worried. I was so upset I was shaking. I want to tell them about my beau, but I know they won’t approve. Maybe I could speak to Bishop Troyer. Maybe he would help them to have a more open mind. How can love be wrong?

August 24

I sneaked out again. We drank beer and by the time we arrived at the club, my head was spinning. I tried to dance, but fell down. He teased me about my wild ways. I couldn’t stop laughing. He had to carry me to the car. Still, it was wonderful to be in his arms. I hope God forgives me for my offenses!

August 28

He took me to a party in another town. The wine was strong, and when we arrived I could not walk or speak. He had to carry me inside. The party was strange. I remember bright lights and music. He made love to me. I think he took pictures. I was embarrassed, but he said they’re only for him, for when he misses me. I don’t want to do that again.

August 29

I didn’t make it home until daylight. Mamm and Datt know I sneaked out. Even though I’m on my rumspringa, Datt is angry. Mamm just looks at me with that hurt look in her eyes. They asked me who I was with. He told me not to tell, so I didn’t. Lying to my parents hurts me. I feel guilty about the things I’ve done. But I love him so much.

August 30

I was sick today. Nauseous and shaky. I don’t know what’s wrong. At the park, I told him I was sick and he bought me an ice cream cone. He’s so thoughtful.

September 6

I met him at midnight at the end of the lane. I was so happy to see him. He gave me champagne. It tickled my nose. But it was too strong and I don’t remember much of the night. I think he took me to some warehouse? Not sure. I remember him undressing me and tucking me into the bed the way I do little Amos sometimes.

September 8

I refused to go with him when he came to my window. I’m angry about last night. He told me it was the English way and that I was just too immature to enjoy it. I’m not wise in the ways of the English, but it felt so wrong.

September 9

I missed my time of the month. I could be with child. What am I going to do? Is this God’s way of punishing me for all the terrible things I’ve done? I’m so scared.

September 11

I’m sick today with vomiting. Mamm won’t let me go to work. I’m supposed to meet him tonight. How am I going to get away? I waited until midnight and went out the window. He was there, with a smile and a kiss. I love him so much. But, oh, how I wish he would stop hurting me.

September 14

He took me to the warehouse again. I cried and told him I didn’t want to go. I drank only water, but still felt as if I’d drunk a whole bottle of wine. I didn’t want to get into bed with him. It is so wrong and I feel terribly guilty. I have to stop this. Why can’t he just love me?

September 15

I woke up in the warehouse, sick and shaking. I told him I wanted to go home. He gave me water. But I think he put something in the water because after a few minutes I couldn’t think straight. He made love to me and everything got confused again.

September 19

Mamm and Datt are worried. Mamm cried and asked me to talk to Bishop Troyer, but Datt said no. They made me quit my job. I don’t know how to tell them about the baby. Will they love it as much as I do?

September 21

I was so ill I could not get out of bed. I couldn’t do my chores. I don’t know what’s wrong. My brothers and sisters peeked in on me several times, but I can’t speak to them. I pray my parents will forgive me. I pray for God to forgive me.

September 22

He came to my window! I shouldn’t be, but I was so happy to see him. I sneaked out and we bought some wine. Then he took me to Miller’s Pond. We watched the stars and he gave me my first wine lesson. The bottle was in a cute little wicker thingie and came all the way from Italy! He’s so sophisticated. Later, we made love. I told him I want to marry him. I want to tell Mamm and Datt about us. He got a little angry and told me they wouldn’t understand. But I need their blessing, even if I am to leave the church. I’m so confused. I don’t know what to do!

September 24

I walked all the way to town and called him from the pay phone. He met me in the park, and I told him about the baby. He got really mad. I don’t care. I love him. And I love our child. I told him I want to marry him and have his child. Forgive me, God, but I told him I would leave the Plain life to be his wife.

September 29

It’s all my fault. My pregnancy. That my life is a mess. He’s so angry with me. I think he hates me. I hoped the baby would make him love me. But everything is ruined. I pray to God for the wisdom to do the right thing.

October 2

I can’t believe he came to my window. When I went downstairs he tried not to show it, but he was mad. He called me a stupid little whore. I know it was the wrong thing to do, but I went with him. I still love him. He drove too fast and it scared me so bad I started to cry. He took me to his house and gave me wine. Afterward, I couldn’t move. I don’t remember everything that happened next. All I recall are the bright lights, but I hurt down there the next day. I think he took pictures of me. I hate myself. If it wasn’t for the baby, I might just step out in front of a car. Thank God for my baby. The child gives me strength.

October 4

He came for me, but I refused to go. He told me I was selfish. That everything is my fault. He says he loves me and our baby. But how can he when he treats me this way?

October 5

I was weak and went with him. We drove around for a long time and then we went to a fancy house in another town. He pretended not to be mad, but he was mean to me on the drive. He gave me wine. I dumped it without drinking it. I know why he drugs me now and I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid.

October 8

I’m so ashamed of what I’ve become. What kind of mamm will I be to my baby? I beg for God to forgive me. I’m going to end it. I’m going to tell Mamm and Datt everything. He met me at the end of the lane and took me to a house in town. I tried to tell him I didn’t want to see him anymore, but he wouldn’t listen. I pretended to drink the wine, but dumped it in the plant when he wasn’t looking. When he went to the bedroom, I ran from the house. I was so scared, I didn’t stop until I was out of town. I kept looking over my shoulder. Every time a car went by, I ran to the ditch and hid.

October 11

I can’t stop crying. I told Mamm and Datt. I was so ashamed I wanted to die. Mamm cried. Datt couldn’t look at me. We prayed and decided I would speak with Bishop Troyer. How can I confess my sins when they’re so terrible?

October 12

Who am I? What have I become? I hate myself. I hate him. I’m so ashamed I want to die.

October 13

I told Datt the rest of it. All of it. And I think that broke his heart. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him cry. I feel so guilty and stupid. He’s going to the English police. I begged him not to. If he does, everyone will know what I’ve done. I can’t believe this is happening. Sometimes I wish I could just die.

I finish reading Mary Plank’s journal at four A.M. It’s like watching a movie where you know some cataclysmic event is about to happen to some hapless character you’ve come to care about. A huge meteor spinning through space, drawing closer and closer to destination Earth.

It’s indescribably sad for me to bear witness to a young Amish girl’s descent into a world she is unequipped to handle. Maybe because I discern echoes of my own past in her words. My situation was different, but the parallels are glaringly there. We broke the rules and paid the price for it. The difference was that I didn’t have a choice in what happened to me. Young Mary made the wrong choices over and over again.

In all those pages of teenaged angst, not once did she mention her lover’s name. Not once did she reveal the kind of car he drives, the name of the club they frequented, the location of the houses they visited, or what he does for a living. At this point, I’m not even sure he had anything do with the murders. But I’m suspicious as hell. If Mary Plank forewarned her lover of her father’s plan to go to the police, he had a big motive to do away with not only her, but her entire family.

I’m a firm believer that people are responsible for their actions. They are masters of their universe. There’s no doubt Mary used poor judgment. Her only saving grace is that she was a kid. Raised Amish, she lacked the skills to deal with the world into which she let herself get dragged.

I’m betting the man she fell for was quite a bit older, much more experienced, and knew exactly what he was doing: taking advantage of her innocence, her lack of sophistication, her naïveté. Not to mention her love for him. That alone makes him a bastard in my book. It makes me want to find him and tear him apart with my bare hands.