Jack stared into the fireplace and watched small flames lick at the wood. He hadn’t slept since the crazy events of last night. How could he? The whole experience was so vivid to him, as clear as any waking memory. Each time he closed his eyes the images came back to him, that voice.
“Hello Jack. How are you?”
Jack pushed himself up from his seat and spun toward the door. Dr. Scott Moran, dressed casually in cords and a tan button-down shirt, held his hands up, “Easy there. Didn’t mean to startle you.” He crossed the room and held out his hand, “I’m Scott Moran. Good to meet you.”
Jack smiled as he shook the doctor’s hand. “Sorry, I didn’t sleep much last night.”
“I guess that’s why you’re here,” Moran said as he motioned Jack back to his chair. “If you want I could prescribe some sleeping pills and just call it a day. Maybe go golfing together? What do you say?”
“What?”
“Do you golf?”
“Yeah, a little.”
“So. What do you want to do? Golf or therapy?”
Jack sized up Scott Moran. The psychiatrist seemed only a little older than himself, maybe in his mid-forties. His sandy blonde hair was either expertly dyed or just hid any grey hairs the man possessed. He had a dark complexion, one of those rare blondes who tanned well. Moran had a runner’s build, lean and muscular. He carried himself with a fluid, country-club self confidence. Jack was used to this kind of easy-going arrogance, it was practically a required attitude in Southern California, but that didn’t mean he liked being around it. Besides that, he wasn’t in the mood for jokes, so he sat and waited for the psychiatrist to continue.
Moran sighed, “I guess we’ll scratch clever banter off the agenda then.” He took a poker and stirred the fire until the flames crackled and spit. He spoke without looking at Jack, “Listen, I know you’re a reluctant guest. But from talking to your wife, I think it’s a good thing you’re here.”
Jack shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He noticed Moran study him out of the corner of his eye. Jack cleared his throat. “Thanks for making a spot for me on short notice. I appreciate it.”
Moran shrugged, “I wasn’t busy. Between you and me, I’m not a very good therapist.”
Jack gave him a thin smile. Under different circumstances he might have given Moran a break and played along with the weak comedy act but the psychiatrist’s shtick was getting on his nerves. The guy was like a golf course pro crossed with a Vegas lounge act. Not exactly a confidence inspiring combination. Still, Jack forced himself to continue. “So what did Lauren tell you?”
“That you’re crazy.” Moran waited a few beats, watching Jack’s serious expression. Finally, he said, “I’m just screwing with you, Jack. You’ve got to lighten up a little.”
Jack shook his head and started to stand up, “Maybe this—”
“Post traumatic stress disorder. That’s what’s causing these hallucinations. You’re not crazy, Jack. You’re just a little freaked out by what happened to you. Happens all the time.”
“Lauren told you—”
“No details. Just that you’ve had troubling dream-like images. Sleep walking. The works.”
Sleepwalking? I took a baseball bat and almost beat my dog to death in front of my family and she told you I was sleepwalking?
“You want to tell me the details of what you saw?” Moran asked.
Jack shifted his eyes and stared into the fire, his fingers tapping the wooden armrest.
Moran changed tack. He spoke in a lower, softer voice. “Jack, whatever you saw compelled you to walk around the house and do some things you didn’t want to do. I’m guessing there is no way you would be here right now unless whatever you saw and whatever you did scared you and your wife pretty bad. I can help you. I really can. But that only happens if you let me in on the details.”
“I haven’t even told Lauren everything.”
“Doesn’t matter. Tell it to me. What’s the worst case? That I think you’re nuts? You don’t give a damn what I think of you, right? So that’s not a big deal. Best case, we figure some stuff out, I give you some answers, and you get better. You’re a businessman. That’s a low cost of failure with a huge upside potential. Listen, I have a family too.” He pointed to the picture on the mantle. “A daughter, Cathy. I know what it’s like to be a father. The responsibility you feel. I can help you with this.”
Jack glanced at the photo of Moran’s daughter. She smiled back at him and made him feel better. Then he remembered Lauren’s look in the bedroom. She had been so scared of him. Worse, he hadn’t been able to reassure her. He didn’t know what he might have done next with the bat. He had no control over his actions. Over the hallucinations. Moran was right about one thing. He did owe it to Lauren and the kids to at least try. Without taking his eyes off the fire, Jack recounted every detail he could remember.
THIRTY-FIVE
“I won’t be very long,” Lauren assured the emergency room nurse who volunteered to watch after the girls. “Page me if you need me or if you get busy.”
“Take your time Dr. Tremont. We haven’t seen a patient here all day,” Nurse Haddie said.
Lauren kissed each of the girls on the cheek. They were already tearing through the box of medical supplies the nurse had given them. Lauren knew how the game went and soon band-aids and gauze would be everywhere as the girls took turns being the patient and the doctor. It always made a mess but she preferred it to when they played house. She wanted her daughters to know from an early age that they could do anything they wanted. She didn’t believe in pressuring them and she respected women who stayed home to raise their kids, but it secretly delighted her whenever the girls said they wanted to be doctors like their mom.
“Just remember that you ladies are going to clean up whatever mess you make.” The girls paused for a second and then went back to their game with a new set of giggles. “Be good.” She turned to the nurse, “They had Krispy Kreme doughnuts for a treat on the way here. Good luck.”
The sounds of the girls playing faded as Lauren walked down the hallway toward the elevator. With the waning sound, Lauren felt her mind shift from being a mother to being a doctor. And one persona was no less protective than the other. She had promised Jack that she would drive straight down to Baltimore but she couldn’t resist making this quick stop at the hospital. A patient of hers had died and she wasn’t satisfied with the answers she was getting.
She flipped through Felicia Rodriguez’s file as she waited for the elevator to arrive. She saw the notation where the blood was drawn to be sent to the CDC. Below that were notations by various nurses regarding IV changes, temperature, blood pressure readings. All seemed normal. Then the entry that made her stomach turn. “Massive coronary. Attempts to resuscitate unsuccessful. TOD 17:14 hr” TOD stood for time of death. Lauren recognized the handwriting. Dr. Stanley Mansfield.
She shook her head. Something felt wrong. Felicia was her patient and no one called her when it happened. Stanley had even been the attending physician when the girl died, and still he hadn’t called. She rationalized that Stanley had just been looking out for her, trying to give her time to be with her family. But still, something felt out of place. As she worked through the problem it did occur to her that with so little sleep and the stress from last night, the only thing out of place might be her.