“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.