“Did you know the brick wall you got in the fight with?”
“No. I’m not even sure how it started, to tell the truth.”
“Which I’d like you to start doing, Michelle, telling the truth, and I think you can.”
“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”
“According to the police report every eyewitness in the bar said you walked up to the biggest bastard there, tapped him on the shoulder and then sucker-punched him.”
“Well, eyewitness accounts are notoriously unreliable.”
“Sean talked to the man you attacked.”
Michelle visibly flinched at this news. “Really, why?”
Horatio didn’t bite on that. Instead he said, “The guy told Sean something interesting. Would you like to know what?”
“Well, since you’re obviously dying to tell me, go ahead and fire away.”
“He said you let him nearly kill you.”
“Well, then he was wrong. I made a bad move and he got hold of me, end of story.”
“Last night, the nurses said you kept shouting in your sleep, ‘Goodbye, Sean.’ Do you remember saying that?”
Michelle gave a brief shake of her head.
“Were you thinking maybe of leaving your partnership with Sean? If so, shouldn’t you tell him that? Or do you want me to?”
Michelle said quickly, “No, I—” She broke off, evidently sensing a trap. “How am I supposed to know what I meant? I was sleeping.”
“I’m a pretty good dream analyzer and I throw in nightmare interpretation for no extra charge. It’s a special I’m running this week because business is so damn slow.”
Michelle rolled her eyes.
Unperturbed, Horatio said, “You trust Sean, don’t you?”
“As much as I trust anybody,” she said tersely. “Which isn’t much these days.”
“These days. So has something changed for you?”
“Look, if you’re going to jump on every word I say, I’m just not going to say anything, okay?”
“Fair enough. I understand that your parents don’t know that you’re here. Would you like us to contact them?”
“No! I mean you call your parents if you made the Dean’s List or got a new job. Not because you checked yourself into the psych ward.”
“And why did you check yourself in here?”
“Because Sean said I had to. To avoid jail time,” she added defiantly.
“Is that the only reason? Isn’t there something else?”
Michelle sat back in the chair and curled her long legs up to her chest.
Twenty minutes later she hadn’t broken her silence and Horatio hadn’t either. Finally the psychologist switched off the recorder and rose. “I’ll be back tomorrow. In the meantime I’m available by phone at any time. If I don’t answer, you can just assume I’m either at my favorite bar or dealing with another whack job like you.”
“I guess this session was pretty much a bust. Sorry,” Michelle added sarcastically. “But I guess you get paid the same regardless, right?”
“You bet I do. But I thought our session was dynamite.”
Michelle looked confused. “How do you figure that?”
“Because you actually sat there and thought about why you wanted to be here. And I know you’re going to keep thinking about it once I leave, because you just won’t be able to help yourself.” He started to leave but then turned back. “Oh, just to warn you about something coming up.”
“Yeah?” Michelle said, the look on her face begging for a fight of some kind.
“They’re having Salisbury steak for dinner tonight. Get the PBJ option instead. The steak sucks. I don’t even think it’s real meat. I think it’s something the Russians invented to make dissidents talk during the Cold War.”
After Horatio left, Michelle sat down on the floor and slumped back against the wall. “Why am I here!” she screamed, kicking the chair clear across the room with one snap of her powerful right leg.
By the time a nurse came rushing in, the chair was upright and Michelle was on her feet. She said ceremoniously, “I understand the steak sucks.”
“It does. So you want the PBJ instead?” the nurse said.
“No, put me down for the steak, double helping,” Michelle said as she sauntered out the door.
“What, you a glutton for punishment?” the nurse called after her.
You bet your ass I am.
CHAPTER
9
LATER THAT NIGHT Michelle lay on the bunk in her room, the rancid grub they called Salisbury steak burning a hole in her belly. Since she was in here on a voluntary basis, her movements were fairly unrestricted and she was leaning toward a walk over hugging the toilet. Not all patients here had such liberty. There was a separate ward, locked down and patrolled by guards, that housed involuntarily committed patients who were deemed to be violent. Michelle had heard some staffers refer to it as the “Cuckoo’s Nest.”
The door opened and her roommate, Cheryl, walked in; last names were not used here. Cheryl was grossly underweight, about forty-five, with ringlets of graying hair plastered against her gaunt face. She carried a drinking straw with her and constantly sucked on it. Michelle didn’t know exactly why Cheryl was in here, but assumed anorexia figured in somehow.
Cheryl collapsed on her bunk and started sucking on the damn straw.
It’s no wonder I keep having nightmares, Michelle thought. Great, big sucking beasts coming after me in bed.
“How’s it going, Cheryl?”
The sucking sound stopped for an instant and then started again.
Michelle started pacing. She wanted to call Sean, but what would she say? I’m sorry about the whole bar thing. Come get me, I’m fine now.
In desperation she turned to Cheryl. “That steak was something, wasn’t it? Feels like I’ve got a tire in my gut.”
Cheryl turned away from her and started sucking louder.
Michelle gave up and headed to the small workout area. For obvious safety reasons all exercise equipment was locked up when it was not being used. However, a large rubber ball had been left out. Michelle used it to work her abs and legs. That took thirty minutes and it felt good to use her muscles again. Yet she still had the rest of the night to kill, and she wasn’t sleepy.
She walked back down the hallway, passing two other patients dressed in scrubs and blue slippers accompanied by a nurse. On another of the corridors one of the burly attendants passed her and stopped. “You need any help, Michelle?”
He was a muscle-bound six-footer running to fat in his fifties with close-cropped blond hair and three gold chains visible from under his green scrub V-shirt. His nameplate read “Barry.”
The way he asked she didn’t like, but maybe it was just her bad attitude. Then he touched her elbow and his intentions became clearer with just the feel of his fingers against her skin. “You need help back to your room maybe?”
She pulled her arm away. “It’s not that big a place. I can find it.” She strode off, but could feel his gaze burning into her. She whipped her head around and caught him smiling at her.
She hurried back to her room. Cheryl was still sucking on her straw. Michelle lay on her bunk, staring at the door. There were no locks on the rooms, so patients couldn’t barricade themselves in. But it also meant that you couldn’t stop others from coming in, like Barry.
An hour later the lights went dark and still Michelle did not close her eyes. She was waiting for footsteps, stealthy and motivated by evil purpose. Around one in the morning she finally told herself, “He just touched your arm, for God’s sake, and made a suggestive comment.” Was she adding paranoia to her other issues? No, she told herself, I don’t have issues.
At two in the morning she was awakened by footsteps passing down the hallway. She slowly sat up and checked Cheryl’s bed, but the straw sucker was dead asleep. Michelle slipped the covers off and put on her tennis shoes. A moment later she was out in the corridor. At night there was
a reduced number of staff on duty and the rental guard had a lot of ground to cover and not a lot of motivation to do it.
She followed the sounds of the footsteps down another corridor. Michelle heard a door open and then close. She crept closer, straining to hear something. Then she froze. She’d heard another sound, but this one was behind Michelle. She took a few steps back and then cut down another corridor.
An instant later, coming around the corner was Barry, the gold chain attendant. He strode right past Michelle’s hiding place in the darkened hall. As soon as it was safe, Michelle ran back to her room.
CHAPTER
10
THE NEXT MORNING MICHELLE RETURNED to that part of the building. Two things caught her eye: the lovely, well-dressed lady who was being wheeled out of her room by a nurse; and the pharmacy at the end of the hall.
Later that afternoon, Michelle had her session with Horatio.
“No more nightmares last night?” Horatio asked.
“No, it was really peaceful. There’s a woman in a wheelchair in a room at the end of the patient corridor on the east wing?”
Horatio looked up from his notes. “Yes, what about her?”
“Who is she?”
“She’s not one of my patients. But if she were, I couldn’t tell you anything about her. Patient confidentiality, you understand. That’s why I don’t talk to anyone else about you.” He added jokingly, “Unless they pay me an enormous amount of money of course. I have my ethics, but I’m not stupid.”
“But you do to Sean. Talk about me, I mean.”
“Only because you signed that release.”
“Can you at least tell me why she’s in a wheelchair? That’s not mental, right?”
“It certainly could be. But as I said, she’s not my patient. Why do you want to know?”
“Just curious. There’s not a lot to hold one’s attention around here.”
“Well, I’ll give you something. How about we focus on getting you better?”
“Okay, what’s on the menu today?”
“Not Salisbury steak, but the spaghetti isn’t much better. Now yesterday we finished up with your thinking about why you’re here. What conclusions did you draw?”
“Not many, I’ve been busy.”
“Busy? Really? I thought you just said you were bored?”
“Okay, I’m here because I want to get better.”
“Are you just saying that or do you mean it?”
“I don’t know, which answer do you want?”
“I can play games with the best of them, Michelle, but it does waste a lot of time.”
“Is that what you’ve been telling Sean, that I’m wasting his time, and his money? I know he’s paying for all this.”
“And does that matter to you?”
“I know he’s trying to help me. He’s a good guy. It’s just…”
“Just what?”
“I think he could probably spend his time and money better elsewhere, that’s all.”
“Meaning you’d rather he abandoned you to your fate? You going melodramatic on me? Do I have to add that to the list of weird shit to look out for in you?” Horatio’s smile managed to defuse this comment.
Michelle studied the floor for a few moments.
“Do you think you know Sean well?” Horatio finally asked.
“Of course. We went through some pretty dangerous things together.”
“He told me you saved his life, more than once in fact.”
“He did the same for me,” she said quickly.
“If you know Sean so well you have to realize that he’s not going to walk away from you.”
“All I’m doing right now is holding him back.”
“Oh, he told you this?”
“Of course not. He’d never say it. But I’m not stupid.”
“Were you two ever physically intimate?”
Horatio’s question caught Michelle so off-guard that she could only gape.
“It’s a fairly standard query, Michelle. I need to understand the different roles that people close to you play in your life. And sexual roles are very powerful influences for both good and bad.”
“We were never intimate like that,” she said in a mechanical tone.
“Okay. Did you want to have sex with him?”
“You can ask me this shit?” Michelle exploded.
“I can ask you pretty much anything. It’s up to you to answer or not.”
“I don’t understand the question.”
“It’s not too difficult, is it? Sean King is tall and handsome, smart and brave, honest and true.” Horatio smiled. “Frankly, I think those traits are given inflated importance in life, but who am I to say? And he’s a good guy too, as you said. You’re a young, attractive woman. You worked closely together.”
“Just because you work with someone doesn’t mean you have to sleep with him.”
“You’re absolutely right. So if I said you did not have thoughts of being intimate with Sean that would be correct?” He smiled. “I need to check off the right box on the multiple choice test here.”
“God, I feel like I’m on the witness stand being cross-examined.”
“Self-examination can be even harder than getting drop-kicked by a skillful shyster in the courtroom. So, no feelings of intimacy toward the big teddy bear?”
“Just go with your gut, Doc. That’s all I can tell you.”
“That actually tells me a lot. Thank you.”
“Now that we’re finished with Sean, I suppose you’ll want to know if I wanted to sleep with my dad.”
“Let’s talk about that.”
“Come on, I wasn’t being serious.”
“I get that. But how is your relationship with your father? Good?”
“No, great! He was a police chief, retired now. He and Mom are in Hawaii on a second honeymoon. That’s the reason I didn’t want to let them know about me. They would’ve just rushed back.”
Horatio didn’t let on that he had already learned part of this from Sean. “Very thoughtful of you. Do you think they’d be surprised you’re here?”
“I hope they’d be stunned!”
“I understand your brothers are cops as well. Ever think of doing something else for a paycheck?”
Michelle shrugged. “Not really. I mean I had the usual pie-in-the-sky ambition to be a professional athlete, but that wasn’t going to happen.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re the first Olympian I’ve ever treated. A silver medal in rowing, Sean said.”
“Yeah,” she replied, a smile tugging at her mouth. “That was great. The high point of my life, or at least I thought so at the time. Maybe it was after all,” she added quietly.
“And then you were a cop for a while and then you joined the Secret Service. Any special reason for the change?”
“All my brothers were cops. I thought it would be cool to be a fed.”
“And your father was okay with that?”
“Not really. He wasn’t big on me being a cop actually.”
“And how’d that make you feel?”
“I understood. Daddy’s little girl and all. My mom didn’t like any of us being cops. But I did it anyway. I’m sort of independent.”
“You’ll be stunned to learn that one I’d already diagnosed,” Horatio