Rage

CHAPTER 39

Milo said, “I’ll take you home, Sydney.”

“I’m still thirsty could we stop somewhere?”

“If I pass a place, I’ll get you a Coke.”

“How about Joya Juice there’s one near my house.”

As we left the park, she turned silent and fidgety.

I said, “What was your impression of Cherish Daney?”

“Drew said she was a real religious type wanted kids a whole bunch of them a brood was the term he used but she couldn’t have any she was sterile it was an issue.”

“Not having kids?”

“Adoption she finally accepted she couldn’t have her own decided she wanted to adopt was really obsessed with adopting even a kid from China Bulgaria Bolivia one of those places he didn’t want it didn’t want the commitment I said what about foster kids that way she gets to play mama then they leave and you’re off the hook and you get paid.”

“Drew like the idea of fostering?”

“He loved it said brilliant Syd you’re a genius that’s what he called me Syd extremely irritating big burr in the saddle but he kept doing it a real loser when we get to Joya I’d like something with pineapple in it okay?”

She directed him to the juice bar, just north of Sunset, in Palisades Village. He left her cuffed and went inside.

Women who looked like Weider were all around. She sank down and lay flat on the rear seat. I asked her about Barnett Malley but she claimed to know nothing about him.

“No impressions?”

“Why would I he was the other side?”

“Daney’s theories never got you curious?”

“That was bullshit.”

“What about Malley riding the rodeo?”

“What are you talking about?”

Milo returned with a giant cup and a straw. She sat up and said, “Take off the cuffs I need to hold it.” He leaned into the car and held the straw to her mouth. She said “Oh c’mon,” but drank greedily, cheeks deflating. When she stopped for a breath, a speck of froth remained on her lower lip. Milo wiped it off.

She looked up at him with fear. “Please let me hold it.”

“No more problems?”

“I promise really.”

“Gonna avoid issues with the neighbors?”

She smiled. “What do you care about that you’re a big-issue guy it’s Daney you’re after obviously he’s done something serious but I don’t even care what.”

“No curiosity?”

“I don’t live in the past the past is like a dead body just keeps rotting and stinking may I have another sip please and can you please take off the damned cuffs?”

“You and Drew don’t talk anymore?”

Hoarse laugh. “Haven’t talked to that loser in seven years what do you think I’m going to call him tell him you were here that’ll be the day if he ever tried to get near me I’d cut off his you-know-what.”

“Bet you would,” said Milo. He freed her hands and handed her the cup. She sipped, remained docile and silent during the ride back to her house.

When we got there, Milo helped her out of the car. She stood looking at her front door as if she’d never seen it before. Milo took her by the elbow and walked her up the drive. Halfway there, he hung back. She stopped, flipped hair, flashed teeth, said something that made him smile. Stood on her tiptoes and pecked his cheek.

He watched as she walked to her door, stood there as she crossed the threshold. Returned shaking his head.

I said, “What was the joke?”

“The- Oh, that. She said ‘You’re sending me off like a little birdie out of the nest chirp chirp chirp.’ ” He jammed the key in the ignition. “It caught me off guard. For a second, she seemed kinda cute.” He frowned. “That kiss. I need to wash my face.”

A block later, he said, “She’s completely nuts but everything she told us fits. What do you think of Daney’s sperm-obsession?”

“All part of his me-obsession. What interests me is that right from the beginning Daney wanted to focus blame on Malley. Why would that be unless he knew Malley before Kristal’s murder and had some reason to resent him? I brought up the rodeo to Weider and she looked at me as if I was crazy. So Daney lied about hearing it from her. He knew Barnett eight years ago or did research.”

“Maybe the swinger’s scene, like you suggested.”

“Or a tamer possibility,” I said. “Now that we know we’ve got two couples with infertility problems.”

“A clinic,” he said. “They met at a damned fertility clinic?”

“Weider said Cherish had ‘finally’ given up on having her own children. That implies she had tried to conceive for a while. That had to include medical treatment.”

“Chatting in the waiting room, the old misery loves company bit.”

“Until Drew and Lara took the friendship a step further,” I said. “The two spouses who just happened to be fertile. It’s possible neither of them knew that and Lara’s pregnancy caught them by surprise. Drew had to figure she’d terminate because of the repercussions with Barnett. But she refused. Having a baby meant more to her than her marriage.”

“All of a sudden the Malleys are having a baby and the Daneys aren’t.”

“Leaving Cherish with a whole lot of frustration and anguish. Three guesses who she’d vent to.”

“She gets on Drew’s case, pushes for more fertility treatment.”

“Which would be expensive and a monumental hassle for something Drew didn’t want in the first place. Either he agreed and it didn’t work, or he refused. In either case, Cherish switched her goal to adoption. Became obsessed with it.”

“Idiot thinks he’s the cleverest guy in the world and all of a sudden his life’s getting knotted up because of a problem he helped create. Talk about insult added to injury.”

“So he decided to eliminate the source of the insult,” I said. “Turned Kristal into an object lesson for Cherish. ‘See the joy babies bring, hon?’ At the same time, he was able to play out his God fantasy and free himself of any future demands from Lara. And as long as he was cleaning house, why not get a movie deal out of it?”

He hunched and scowled and gripped the wheel, as relaxed as a student driver. Salt air blew through the car’s open windows. Charming neighborhood. How long before Sydney Weider imploded?

Milo said, “Cleaning house permanently. Kristal, then Troy because he killed Kristal, then Nestor because he killed Troy. And Lara either because she wanted to get serious with him or she had figured out he had something to do with Kristal’s death.”

“Jane Hannabee, too, because Daney couldn’t be certain Troy hadn’t said something to his mother.”

“And now Rand… think Drew did any of them himself or were they contract deals?”

“Whoever did Lara did Rand. My money’s on Daney for those. Hannabee could’ve gone either way.”

“Six bodies,” he said. “And there’s something I neglected to mention. I checked for any Mirandas on Daney’s foster list. Nothing close.”

“Why would Daney take in a ward and not bill the state?”

“Why, indeed.”

“Oh,” I said.

“Now how the hell am I going to prove any of it with no evidentiary connections?”

I had no answer.

“Yeah,” he grumbled. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

He dropped me home at one-forty p.m. Allison hadn’t called my cell and there were no messages on my machine.

In five minutes, she’d be between patients. I watched the clock, had a cold cup of coffee, phoned her office when the big hand touched the nine.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m in the middle of something, promise to call as soon as I can.”

“Emergency?”

“Something like that.”

“We’re okay?”

Silence. “Sure.”

It was seven-thirty when I heard from her.

“Emergency resolved?”

“This morning Beth Scoggins went into a changing room at work and locked herself in. It took awhile before anyone noticed. When they found her she was sitting on the floor, curled up, sucking her thumb. She was unresponsive, had wet her pants. The manager dialed 911 and the ambulance took her to the U. They gave her a physical and a tox scan, then some psych residents tried out their interview skills on her. Finally, she let someone know I was her therapist and an attending psychiatrist called me. It was him I was talking to when you phoned. I canceled my afternoon patients and went over there, just got back to the office.”

“How’s she doing?”

“Still regressed but she’s starting to talk. About things she never talked about before.”

“More about Daney or- ”

“I can’t get into it with you, Alex.”

“Sure,” I said. “Allison, if I had anything to- ”

“She’s obviously been sitting on a mountain of issues- a volcano. I was probably too laid-back, should’ve worked harder at opening her up.”

Same thing, nearly word for word, that Cherish Daney had said about Rand.

This was different. Allison was trained. Cherish had been running with scissors.

Out of her element.

Or maybe not.

My head flooded with what-ifs.

I said, “I’m sure you handled it optimally.” That came out hollow.

“Whatever. Listen, I’ve got to phone all those cancellations, rearrange my schedule, extend my hours, then go back to the hospital. It’s going to be awhile before we can… socialize. Don’t even suggest to Milo that he’ll ever have access to this girl.”

“It’s not an issue.”

“I know what’s at stake, Alex, but we’re on opposite sides on this one. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it has to be.”

Three hours later, she was at my door, dangling her car keys. Her hair was tied up in a careless way I’d never seen before, black as the night sky behind her. One of her stockings sported a run from knee to mid-calf, the polish on some of her nails was chipped, and her lipstick had faded. A picture I.D. badge was clipped to the lapel of her black cotton suit. Temporary privileges, Department of Psychiatry. Her eyes, always deep-set, were captives in fatigue-darkened sockets.

She said, “I haven’t meant to be distant. Though I still have problems- big problems- with the whole deception thing.”

“Have any dinner yet?”

“Not hungry.”

“C’mon in.”

She shook her head. “Too tired, Alex. I just wanted to say that.”

“Come in anyway.”

Her chin trembled. “I’m exhausted, Alex. Won’t be good company.”

I touched her shoulder. She edged past me as if I were an obstacle. I followed her into the kitchen, where she tossed the keys and her purse on the table and sat staring at the sink.

She refused food but accepted hot tea. I brought a mug with some toast.

“Persistent,” she said.

“So I’ve been told.” I took a chair across from her.

“It’s ridiculous,” she said. “I’ve had patients go through worse than this. A lot worse. I think it’s a combination of this particular patient- maybe I let the countertransference get out of hand- and your being involved.”

She raised the mug to her lips. “When I met you, what you do… it turned me on. The whole police thing, the whole heroic thing- here was someone in my profession doing more than sitting in an office and listening. I never told you this, but I’ve had hero fantasies of my own. Probably because of what happened to me. I guess I’ve been living through you. On top of that you’re a sexy guy, no question. I was a sucker.”

What “had happened” to her was sexual assault at age seventeen. Warding off attempted robbery and gang rape years later.

She eyed her purse and I knew she was thinking about the shiny little gun. “What you do still turns me on, but this has been a rude awakening. I’m realizing that maybe there are aspects of it that aren’t healthy.”

“Like deception.” And holding down a woman’s ankles so a detective can hog-tie her.

Her eyes turned the color of gas jets. “You flat-out lied to her, Alex. A girl you didn’t know, with no consideration of the risks. I’m sure most of the time it’s no big deal, just a fib in the service of law enforcement and no one gets hurt. This time… maybe in the long run it will be good for her. But now…”

She put the mug down. “I keep telling myself if she was this close to the edge she would’ve been tipped over eventually. Maybe it’s my ego that’s wounded. I got caught unawares…”

I touched her hand. She didn’t touch back.

“Deception’s okay for Milo, I understand the kind of people cops come into contact with. But you and I took the same licensing exam and we both know what our ethics code says.”

She freed her hand. “Have you thought it through, Alex?”

“I have.”

“And?”

“I’m not sure my answer’s going to make you happy.”

“Try me.”

“When I see patients in a therapeutic setting, the rules apply. When I work with Milo, the rules are different.”

“Different how?”

“I’d never hurt anyone intentionally, but there’s no promise of confidentiality.”

“Or truthfulness.”

I didn’t answer. No sense mentioning the man I killed a few years ago. Clear self-defense. Sometimes his face came to me in dreams. Sometimes I manufactured the faces of his unborn children.

“I don’t mean to attack you,” said Allison.

“I don’t feel attacked. It’s a reasonable discussion. Maybe one we should’ve had earlier.”

“Maybe,” she said. “So basically, you compartmentalize. That doesn’t wear on you?”

“I deal with it.”

“Because bad people sometimes get what’s coming to them.”

“That helps.” I worked hard at keeping my tone even. Saying the right things though I did feel attacked. Thinking about six bodies, maybe seven, no obvious solution. Thinking about Cherish Daney in a way that I couldn’t let go of.

Allison said, “Is deception a big part of what you do?”

“No,” I said. “But it happens. I try never to grow glib, but I rationalize when I have to. I’m sorry about what happened to Beth and I’m not going to make excuses. The only lie I told her was that I was researching foster parenting in general. I don’t see that as a factor in her breakdown.”

“Getting into the whole issue precipitated her breakdown, Alex. She’s an extremely vulnerable girl who should never have been drawn into a police investigation in the first place.”

“There was no way to know that.”

“Exactly. That’s why we learned about discretion and taking our time and thinking things through. About doing no harm.”

“Witnesses are often vulnerable,” I said.

Long silence.

She said, “So you’re fine with all this.”

“Would I have approached Beth directly if I’d known she was going to decompensate? Of course not. Would I have taken another approach- like going through you? You bet. Because a lot is at stake, even more than I’ve told you, and she was a potential source of crucial information.”

“What more is at stake?”

I shook my head.

“Why not?” she said.

“There’s no need for you to know.”

“You’re mad so you’re doing a tit for tat.”

“I’m not mad, I want to keep you from the bad stuff.” The way I used to keep Robin.

“Because I can’t hope to understand.”

I thought you did. But it’s too much ugly.

“There’s just no reason for you to get involved, Allison.”

“I’m already involved.”

“As a therapist.”

“So I just run off and do my therapy thing and keep my nose out of your business?”

That would simplify things.

“It’s one of the ugliest cases I’ve ever worked on, Ali. You already spend your days soaking up other people’s crap. Why would you want more soul pollution?”

“And you? What about your soul?”

“Such as it is.”

“I won’t accept that it doesn’t affect you.”

Unborn children…

I didn’t answer.

She said, “You can handle it, but I can’t?”

“I don’t ask you about patients.”

“That’s different.”

“Maybe it really isn’t.”

“Fine,” she said. “So now there’s a new taboo in our relationship. What binds us together? Hot sex?”

I pointed to the toast. “And haute cuisine.”

She worked at a smile. Got up and took the mug to the sink, where she emptied and washed. “I’d better be going.”

“Stay.”

“Why?”

I walked behind her, slipped my arm around her waist. Felt her abdominal muscles ripple as she tensed up. She removed my hand, turned, and looked up at me. “I’ve probably put some kind of wedge between us. Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow and feel like a first-class idiot, but right now I’ve still got some righteous indignation burning in my belly.”

I said, “The higher stakes are six murders, maybe seven. If you include the girl who succeeded Beth as Daney’s assistant. She seems to have vanished and she’s not on the foster rolls.”

She stepped out of my arms, braced herself against the counter, and stared out the kitchen window.

“Plus a toddler,” I went on. “Two teenage boys, three women, a mentally challenged young man. And so far, no way to prove any of it.”

She lowered her head into the sink, heaved and dry-retched.

I tried to hold her as she shuddered.

“Sorry,” she whimpered, pulling away. Splashing water on her face, she dried it with her sleeve. Snatched up her purse and keys, left the kitchen.

I caught up as she opened the front door. “You’re exhausted. Stay. I’ll take the couch.”

Her lips were parched and tiny blood spots freckled her cheeks. Petechiae from the strain of vomiting. “It’s a nice offer. You’re a nice man.”

“I’d like to be a good man.”

Her eyes shifted. “I need to be alone.”