“Yeah. I felt stuff like… silky stuff.” She darted her eyes sideways to her mother, took a breath and went on. “I felt like… silky things. On my body. He also put something on my feet. I know that because when I woke up I had strap marks. I felt something wet and chilly on my skin. I must have opened my eyes sometimes, ’cause I can remember the blue color of the tarp overhead, and the light flashes… I know I was trying to wake up, but also not, because I think I knew what he was doing to me and I kinda didn’t want to know, either. I feel guilty I nevah try harder to wake up, get away…” Her voice trailed and she hung her head, the curtain of hair sliding down around her.
“You never did nothing wrong.” Her mother rubbed the girl’s back in little circles. “You alive today and that what counts. Maybe he would have killed you if you seen him, if you fought him.”
“That’s right,” Stevens said. “This man is very dangerous. I can’t say anything more right now.”
Lehua looked up at them, her eyes blazing with emotion.
“Get him. Find this monster who hurt my baby.”
Chapter 29
Lei went into Dr. Wilson’s office for her session late that day.
“Hey,” she said. The psychologist sat behind the sleek modern desk in the corner, poring over some papers.
“Hey to you too,” Dr. Wilson said, pulling reading glasses off, laying them aside. She came around the desk and reached out as if to hug her. Lei stood stiffly. Dr. Wilson backed away.
“Sorry, I forgot,” the psychologist said.
“Forgot what?”
“You don’t like to be touched.”
“I never said that.”
“I can tell you don’t like to be touched. Especially when you don’t initiate it.”
“If you say so,” Lei said. She put her hands, clenched into fists, on the coffee table in front of her, and then consciously spread her fingers. “See how irritated you make me? I was having a good day until I got here.” Except for the interviews, and the ache of sorrow that felt like cancer in her bones…
“Hmm. I thought things were going better between us than this. Could be some transference going on.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s when the client projects their relationship issues onto the therapist. Do I remind you of someone?”
“Every stupid haole bitch who tried to help me growing up. None of you could do shit for me back then, and you can’t help me now either.” Lei surprised herself with the anger behind her statement.
“Too true,” Dr. Wilson said comfortably. She settled back in her overstuffed lounger, pulling the lever on the side that reclined the seat. She opened the throw blanket draped over the arm and spread it over her lap. She folded her hands, closed her eyes. Lei stared at her.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking a nap. Let me know when the session’s over.”
Lei frowned, fidgeted. “I actually was going to tell you something, but obviously you don’t care.”
Dr. Wilson opened her eyes. They were a clear, commanding blue.
“You just told me a minute ago I couldn’t help you. I’m tired. I might as well take a nap as listen to you make me the bad guy-first for trying to help, now for not trying.” She closed her eyes again.
Lei looked down at her hands. They’d clenched into fists again. She wanted to get up and leave, but she knew she had to stay the hour. She’d wait it out. She sat back, rubbed her sweaty palms against the stiff blue of her uniform slacks.
The silence was broken by the ticking of the old-fashioned clock on Dr. Wilson’s desk. Lei reached into her pocket to rub the well-worn triangle of the note Stevens had left her the first night he slept over. She got up, paced. Tension still crawled along her nerves.
“I’m ready to talk now.”
Nothing from Dr. Wilson. Was that a snore? Like, a little, ladylike snore?
“I’m sorry. I was rude.”
“Did you say something?” Dr. Wilson’s eyes opened a crack.
“Sorry. That wasn’t fair, what I said.”
“You were right. No one can help you. I bet you know the answer why.”
“I have to want help?”
“Bingo. And then, you have to help yourself. I’m just a sounding board.”
“Sounding ‘bored’ is more like it,” Lei said.
“Good one.” Dr. Wilson chuckled. She didn’t retract her chair though, still looking like she might fall asleep any minute.
“A lot happened this week,” Lei said. “I chased someone I think might be my stalker. And my friend was kidnapped and murdered.”
“Oh my God. Mary Gomes? She was your friend?”
“Yes,” Lei said, and her eyes filled for about the hundredth time.
“I’m so sorry. It’s a huge loss.”
Lei nodded, unable to speak, and yanked a couple of handfuls of tissue out of the box beside her on the couch. She honked her nose.
“What really sucks is that there are no leads. It’s like the Mohuli`i girls all over again. In fact, I think it’s the same doer.”
“So it’s easier to focus on the investigation. Are you a part of it?”
“For the girls. Not Mary’s investigation. What else can I do?”
“Grieve.”
Lei got up, paced. Rubbed her hands up and down on her legs. “I don’t want to grieve,” she said. “I want justice.”
Dr. Wilson inclined her head in silent acknowledgement. Lei went on.
“This is why I became a cop and not a nurse or a social worker. Justice is what I want, not tears.”
“Can’t there be both?”
“Not and do the job.”
“So you hide it. Like you hide the dissociation episodes.”
“I have to. I was so afraid I was losing my mind, I always tried to pretend it wasn’t happening. I guess it’s good to know I am not going crazy, but… how do I make it stop?”
Dr. Wilson retracted the chair and sat forward, brushing the lap blanket out of the way.
“Girl, here we are at the crux of the matter. You have to want to tackle this badass beast that is your past. You have to be in a place in your life where you feel strong enough to remember terrible things that were done to you by people who should have protected and loved you. I won’t kid you. It may get worse before it gets better if you go down this road, because what brings healing is the integration of the past with the strong healthy person you are now. And it may take longer than your mandatory six sessions.”
Lei sat back down. She slid her sweaty palms up and down her thighs. “What’s the alternative?”
“I don’t know. I guess you keep doing what you’re doing. Maybe you’ll get better on your own, maybe you’ll get worse. What I’ve seen is that children who were abused and traumatized often hit a wall. Something sets them off, such as a major relationship, or having their own child, and they begin to decompensate. If they don’t work through it with support, they often end up doing self-destructive things to themselves and those around them.”
“Great. As if it wasn’t bad enough with my mom dead and my dad in jail… I gotta be fucked up the rest of my life too? Goddamn it!” Angry tears filled her eyes. She jumped up, paced. “Every time I bust someone I feel like I’m getting them back, just a little bit. The best thing I ever did was become a cop, and now this shit is trying to take that away from me, make me act crazy, make me miss things. I almost lost it in the morgue seeing Mary’s body. I can’t afford to be like this.”
“Can’t afford to be human? Come on,” Dr. Wilson said. “And anger is good. It’s fuel. But don’t stay there.
