off the water. “God, I don’t want my kids to read that.”
Karen said nothing for a moment. Gnawing away at her was the idea that it could be true about Amelia. She dried off her hands, then folded up the dishtowel. “Listen, something happened to me when I went to visit my father in the rest home today. It involves Amelia…”
They sat down at the kitchen table, and she told George about her bizarre, scary experience in the basement storage room. She explained her reluctance to diagnose Amelia as having a split personality, and asked if he’d ever noticed any abrupt behavioral changes in his niece. “Not just mood swings,” Karen clarified. “But a total shift in her persona, when she might have sounded or even looked different to you.”
He shrugged. “I don’t remember ever seeing Amelia act like anybody except Amelia. Ina never said anything to me about personality shifts, and she and Amelia were pretty close this last year. Mark and Jenna never mentioned anything either. I…” He hesitated. “Wait a sec. You know, Collin said something to me about a month before he died. He and some friends were eating lunch on the bleachers at his school in Bellingham, when he spotted Amelia watching them from across the street. He called to her, and she started to walk away. It struck him as weird, because Amelia was supposed to be in Seattle, and he usually knew when she was coming home to visit. Anyway, when he caught up with her, Amelia acted like a total stranger, he said.”
“You mean she didn’t recognize him?” Karen asked.
“No, she knew who he was, all right. They talked for a minute or two, then Amelia said she had to go and asked Collin not to tell their parents that she’d been there. I remember Collin saying to me, ‘I felt like Amelia was a different person.’ He said she didn’t seem drunk or anything. She just didn’t seem like his sister. Collin was spending the weekend here when he told me this story.” George let out a sad sigh. “Huh. You know, that weekend was the last time I saw him.”
Karen was about to reach over and put her hand over his, but she hesitated. She cleared her throat. “Um, I don’t know much about multiple personality disorder. We’d have to get Amelia to a specialist. We also have to prepare ourselves for the awful possibility that Koehler is right about Amelia.”
George frowned. “Do you really think she could have killed her own parents-and my wife? I know my niece, and she could never-”
“Yes, I agree with you,” Karen cut in. “The Amelia
George slowly shook his head. “I can’t believe it. I mean, Jesus, I’ve had her here alone with the kids this week. Are you sure?”
“I’m just saying it’s a possibility we have to consider. In fact, one reason I wanted to stop by tonight was to borrow a photo of Amelia, any recent photo of her that you might have. I want to post it at the nurses’ station in my dad’s rest home so they’ll keep a lookout for her. You probably think I’m overreacting.”
“No, not at all,” he said. “We have plenty of family pictures. I’ll make sure you get a current one of Amelia before you leave tonight.”
“Thank you, George,” she said, sitting back in the kitchen chair. “About Amelia, I’d like to get her to someone more qualified in multiple personality disorder. I’ve never had a true MPD case. There are theories it can be caused by an early childhood trauma. But that’s just a theory. And Amelia’s early childhood is still a mystery to us. I really-”
“God, I forgot to call and tell you,” he interrupted. “I was up at Mark and Jenna’s house in Bellingham the day before yesterday with Amelia, and I found the adoption papers.” He got to his feet. “They’re in my study. I’m not sure how much help they’ll be.”
Karen eagerly followed him into the study. She remembered some of those fragmented memories Amelia had shared with her about her early childhood: a woman screaming in the woods while young Amelia sat alone in a car; the Native American neighbor she liked; a person or place called Unca-dween; and her mother standing over her in the bathroom, asking, “Did he touch you down there?”
If they could track down more information about Amelia’s biological parents, they might discover what those fragments meant. Maybe they’d find the key to Amelia’s problems.
George put on his glasses and sifted through a stack of papers on his computer desk. “Here’s the file,” he said, handing her a folder. “I’m afraid there isn’t a lot of information here-no mention of the biological parents or even where Amelia was born, just her first name and the birthday, May 21, 1988.”
Karen glanced at the records: sixteen pages of legal documents, most of it boilerplate stuff. But the adoption date was there: April 5, 1993; and so was the name of the agency: Jamison Group Adoption Services, Spokane, Washington.
Karen nodded at his computer screen. “Could I get online for a minute?”
“Sure, I’ll start it up for you.” Sitting down, he switched on the monitor, then worked the keyboards for a minute until he connected to the Internet. He quickly vacated the chair for her. “What are you looking up?”
“This adoption agency. I want to read about the fire. Maybe they’ll say something about where all their records went, besides up in smoke.” She sat down, and did a Google search for Jamison Group Adoption Services, Spokane, WA.
The first four listings were for other adoption agencies in Spokane, and three more, picking up the key words, were for
Frowning, Karen went to the next page, and then she found something halfway down the list:
FOUR DIE IN SHOOTING…Gunman Sets Adoption Agency on Fire… Duane Lee Savitt, 33, walked into the Jamison Group Adoption Agency on East Sprague Street at 1:35 P.M. Within minutes, he had shot and killed office manager Donna…
www.spokesmanreview.com/news/shooting/042993-14k.
“My God,” George murmured, peering over her shoulder. “All this time, I thought the fire was accidental.”
Karen clicked on the link, and pulled up an article in the
FOUR DIE INSHOOTING RAMPAGE
SPOKANE: Police investigators are still trying to determine the motive for a Pasco man’s shooting spree at an adoption agency, which left three employees dead on Monday afternoon. Before it was over, the gunman set ablaze the small, two-story Tudor house which served as the adoption agency’s office. He was shot and killed as he opened fire on police and firefighters arriving at the scene.
Armed with two handguns, several clips of ammunition, and an incendiary device, Duane Lee Savitt, 33, walked into the Jamison Group Adoption Agency on East Sprague Street at 1:35 P.M. Within minutes, he had shot and killed office manager Donna Houston, 51, and Scott Larabee, 40, an attorney for the agency. Anita Jamison, 44, vice president and part owner, was also shot.
“I heard screams, and several loud pops next door,” said Margarita Brady, a receptionist at a neighboring architecture firm, D. Renner amp; Company. Brady immediately called 911. “There were still screams coming from inside the house when I saw the smoke start to pour out the windows…”
Karen glanced at the adoption documents again. Both Scott Larabee and Anita Jamison had signed the contracts.
According to the article, Anita Jamison was still alive when the police finally gunned down Duane Lee Savitt. But she’d been badly burned in the fire and died in the ambulance on the way to Sacred Heart Medical Center.
