"I don't know, Lucy. Maybe to connect with you, somehow."
"No," she said angrily. "No way. He's up to something, believe me. He's a master manipulator, you have no idea. He loved hitting Puck when he was down."
"Puck went to him for money?"
"After he cut off the trust fund."
"He has that power?"
"Not officially, but the lawyers work for the family trust, and they do. One call from him." Snapping her fingers. "They invoked some sort of spendthrift clause. After that, Puck had to go to him. Only a few times, as a last resort. And of course he demeaned Puck and made him beg for every penny. Lectured him about financial responsibility, as if he's some expert. He lives off a trust fund, too. His mother's father owned textile mills all over New York and New Jersey, made a fortune before income taxes. He's never had to work a day in his life. If he did, he'd be sunk. He hasn't published or sold a painting in years."
She slammed a fist into a palm. "Forget him. Forget whoever played around with my undies and hung up on me and wrote that stupid note. No more fear, no more bullshit. I'm evicting it all from my mind. I don't care what it looks like, I never tried to kill myself. I love life. And I want a real life- a regular, boring, ordinary life. This is a nice place, but in a few days I'm out of here."
"Where to?"
"I don't know. Somewhere on my own. I'm not going to spend my life looking over my shoulder."
She got up again. "Had the dream again last night. Ken came in, said he'd heard me crying out. I was sweating. It's as if that damned incubus is sitting back there, just waiting to torment me. As if there's a big pile of garbage stuck in my memory banks. I want to evict that, too. Get my head clear. How do I do that?"
I considered my answer. The delay brought panic to her eyes.
"What is it? Is there something wrong with me- did they find something on those tests in the hospital?"
"No," I said. "You're perfectly healthy."
"Then what?"
Timing: the art of therapy.
Mine was off. I felt out of balance.
Her nails scraped the table.
"The dream," I said. "Has it changed in any way?"
"No. What are you holding back from me?"
"What makes you think I'm holding back?"
"Please, Dr. Delaware, I know your intentions are good, but I'm tired of being protected."
I thought of her head in the oven.
"Sometimes there's nothing wrong with being protected."
"Please. I'm not crazy- or do you think I am?"
"No," I said.
"Then what is it? What aren't you telling me?"
I continued to deliberate. She looked ready to jump out of her skin.
Feeling like a first-time skydiver about to step into space, I said, "Some things have come up. They may be related to your dream, or they may mean nothing. Given all your stress, I'm not comfortable dropping them on you, unless you can promise you'll take them calmly."
"What things?"
"Can you promise me?"
"Yes, yes, what?" Her hands were flexing. She stilled them. Forced a smile. Sat.
Waiting, like a child not knowing if candy was coming or the strap.
"You don't remember any contact with Lowell," I said. "But Ken says you spent a summer with him at Sanctum. All four of you did: you, Ken, Puck, and Jo."
"What? When?"
"The summer the retreat opened. You were four years old."
"How could- when did he tell you this?"
"The night he brought you into the hospital. I asked him not to discuss it with you. I wanted to pace things."
"Four years old? How can that be? I'd remember that!"
"Your Aunt Kate had just gotten married and gone on her honeymoon. Does the time frame fit?"
She stared at the lawn. Slumped low in her chair.
"I-" she said, very softly. "I still can't see how I couldn't remember something like that."
"Memories from any age can be blocked out."
"Four… that's the age I feel in the dream."
I nodded.
She started to reach for my arm, then stopped herself. Her face had gone gray-white, like skim milk. "You think it could be real?"
"I don't know, Lucy. That's what we need to figure out."
"Four… I'm so confused."
"Some parts of the dream seem to match reality," I said. "There was a big party that summer. That could explain the sounds and lights. And the buildings at Sanctum are made of logs."
Her hands fisted. Her eyes were cold yet electric. "What about the rest of it- what I saw?"
"I don't know."
She started to shake, and I held her shoulders till she stopped.
Finally she was able to take a deep breath.
"Calm," she said to herself. "I can handle this."
Another breath. She closed her eyes, her shoulders loosened, and I let go. A few more inhalations, and for a moment I thought she'd lapse into the semihypnotic state I'd seen a few days ago. Then her eyes opened. "I don't feel anything. No big insights… but could it- the girl? What do you think? Do you know anything else that you're not telling me?"
I studied her face. No muscles moved. Her eyes were still and dry and piercing.
"Yes," I said. "After Ken told me, Milo and I did some research, looking into crimes in that area. We found no murders or rapes that matched, but we did come across a missing persons case involving a girl who was never found. She did have long dark hair and long legs, but that could apply to lots of girls. So let's not assume anything for the moment."
"Oh, God."
"It may very well mean absolutely nothing, Lucy, and latching on to it may distort your memories. That's why I didn't want to rush into it."
"It's okay," she said. "I won't rush into anything either." Putting her hands in her lap. Smoothing her hair. "What else do you know about this girl?"
"Her name was Karen Best. She disappeared the night before the party- which wouldn't fit with the dream. She was last seen in Paradise Cove, fifteen miles from Topanga. And there's no evidence she was ever up at Sanctum. The only thing that does match is her physical description, and there's nothing very distinctive about it. As I told you before, dreams can be mixtures of reality and fantasy. You were four years old, may very well have seen something a child's mind couldn't process."
"Such as?"
"Something sexual, like you initially assumed. Small children who witness the sexual act often interpret it as an assault."
"But the scraping sounds- the last couple of times, like last night- it was definitely shovels digging. Burying her."
Hunching her back, she bit her finger.
"Lucy-"
She removed the finger and rubbed the upper joint. "Don't worry," she said softly. "I'm not going to fall apart. I'm just trying to put this into place."
"Don't try to do it all at once."
She nodded. Breathed deeply again, and placed her hands on the table, as if summoning a spirit at a séance.
"Why now?" she said. "If I've forgotten it all these years, why now?"
"Perhaps the stress of the trial," I said. "Hearing about all that sexual violence. Or maybe you're strong enough to deal with it now."
She expelled air. "What does Milo think about this?"
"He's open-minded but skeptical."
"But he didn't dismiss it… the girl. Karen. Do you have a picture?"
"Not with me, but I can get one."
"I want to see her."
I nodded.
"Does she have a family?"
"A father and a brother."
"Have you met them?"
"The father. The brother lives back east."
"Was she originally from back east?"
"Massachusetts."
"Boston?"
"New Bedford."
"I've been there plenty of times- used to go out there with Ray to buy squid from the Portuguese fishermen. What was she doing in L.A.?"
"She came out to be an actress and ended up waiting tables."