Silent Treatment

information about her. I offered her five hundred dollars just to talkwith me in person for half an hour. Not one minute more. And she didn't have toanswer any questions about Desiree that she didn't want to. I was sure she wasgoing to say no. But when she said again that she didn't know Desiree, I knew Ihad her. We're meeting tomorrow morning.'

'That sounds promising,' Maura said.

'It sounds like we're about to be takenfor five hundred bucks,' Harry muttered.

'You just hang in there with me, boss,'Walter replied, the tic at the corner of his mouth firing off several times.'You don't seem to know it yet, but what you got here is the detective bargainof the century. Just keep in touch. Maybe we can get together tomorrow nightand compare notes. By the way, Maura, I'll check on an AA meeting for us to goto then if you still want to.'

'I'm ready.

'You have my number at home,' Harry said.'Call anytime if you learn something.' He hesitated and then added, 'Walter,I'm sorry to be giving you a hard time. I'll try not to.'

Concepcion pinched his own forearm.

'Hey, skin as thick as rhino hide, man,'he said. 'Besides, I haven't done anything yet except cost you money. When I doproduce, and I will, I expect you to get off my case.'

He shook hands with them both, waved toMary Tobin, and headed out.

'Come on,' Harry said. 'We can catch a cabon Fifth.'

'Okay,' Maura said, battling a sudden,inexplicable case of nerves, 'let's do it.' She started toward the door andthen turned back. 'Cross your fingers, Mary,' she said. 'We're off to see thewizard.'

The discreet brass placard above the bellread:

P. Nemec Behavior Modification

Pavel Nemec greeted them warmly and servedthem tea and cakes in the oak-paneled Victorian waiting room of his office. Heand Harry spent some time catching up on Nemec's family and on Harry's lifeover the years since they had last spoken. He was in his early sixties, Mauraguessed, graying and very slight, but fit. She found him charming andunpretentious.

Even so, the free-floating anxiety thathad begun to take hold of her in Harry's office intensified. Maura had tried sohard to reconnect with the face of the man in the white clinic coat. But theharder she tried, the flimsier the memories became. Now, she wondered whetherthe DTs, and the surgery, and the drugs had distorted reality so much for herthat the man, in fact, never did exist.

Her hands were shaking ever so slightly.She abandoned trying to hold her teacup and instead sat quietly as Harryexplained their situation. Nemec also listened intently. But midway throughHarry's account, he stood and began pacing slowly behind her chair, pausingtwice to rest his hands gently on her shoulders. Then suddenly he bent down,his lips close to her ear.

'There's nothing to be frightened about,Maurie,' he whispered. 'Nothing.'

Maura was startled. Maurie, notMaura. He had definitely said that. No one except her father had ever calledher Maurie. And then only until she was ten or so.

Harry stopped talking. Maura becameacutely aware of the traffic noises from the street. It was happening, sherealized. No couch, no watch-on-a-chain, no New Age music, no gimmicks at all.Pavel Nemec was at work — right here, right now.

He moved around to face her and placed hisfingertips on her temples. Her face had closed now, but her mind was racing.Images and faces cascaded through her thoughts like a video on rapid search.Faces from her childhood — teachers, playmates, Tom, Mother. . houses androoms, rural scenes and city streets. She connected easily with some of thepictures, not at all with others. . Then suddenly, one scene began repeatingitself over and over. It was her father, a drink sloshing in his hand, turningtowards her. His rheumy eyes were cold with contempt. His words were thick andslurred. Spittle sprayed from his mouth as he railed at her.

You 're worthless, Maurie. .hopeless and worthless. .

You can't do a damn thing rightexcept give me headaches. Just like your mother. .

Except for marrying her, you'reabout the worst mistake I've ever made. . In fact, if it weren't for you,I'd never have had to marry her in the first place. .

'Easy, Maurie,' Nemec said with gentlefirmness. 'He will never, ever speak to you like that again. . He was sick.That's all … You never deserved to be spoken to like that. He just couldn'thelp it.' Nemec cupped his calming hands behind her ears. 'You did your best toplease him. . He hated himself too much to show love for anyone. . Henever thought about what he was doing to you. . You can let it go now, Maura. . You can let it go forever …'

The swirling images began to recede. Mauraknew her eyes were closed, but she could see the mystic in his gray cardigan,pacing in front of her. Her apprehension was gone now — the shroud ofself-loathing that had blanketed her life for so long had lifted, leaving herwith an incredible sense of peace. All those times her father had crushed herpride, belittled her. Even news of his death couldn't kill the terrible seedshe had sown. Throughout her life, each time success was in her grasp, herpathological self-doubt would lead her to find some way to sabotage and destroyit.

Worthless. . How old could she have beenwhen he began calling her that — seven? Eight?

Now, finally, she knew that it had neverbeen her. Not once. She never deserved what Arthur Hughes had done to her. And,like Pavel said, he could never hurt her again.

Her eyes still closed, she saw Nemec moveto the table and retrieve her sketch pad and charcoal. Then she felt him set iton her lap.

We have work to do. She heard his voice, but knewhe had not spoken. You're free now, Maura — free to see what needs to be seen. .

Harry would later tell her that she hadnever opened her eyes until the detailed sketch was complete. He would describethe eerie way the charcoal in her hand darted over the paper, the disjointedbut absolutely unified process by which the man's face took shape. He wouldtell her about the moment, as she was still shading and shadowing him with hercharcoal stick and finger, when he recognized him.

Maura stretched her arms and worked herneck around. She felt relaxed and refreshed, as if she had just stepped from awarm spa. She knew that she had produced a drawing of the man who had murderedEvie DellaRosa. She also knew that Pavel Nemec had helped her in ways notherapist or counselor ever had. There were flaws in her perception of herself- gaping flaws for which she had never been responsible, flaws that keptdriving her self- destructive behavior, flaws that made her time and again breakthe promises she made to herself.

No more. . Not one more drop. .

She opened her eyes and looked down at therendering. Then she drew in the man's clip-on tie and shaded it green with goldaccents. Pavel Nemec was back in his chair, casually sipping tea.

'How'd you do that?' she asked.

He smiled at her kindly and shrugged.

'My encounters with clients are not alwaysthis successful. Some days it is like walking through a dense fog for me. Somedays, like today, I can see with incredible clarity. I believe you've beenwaiting for me for some time, Maura. Possibly years.'

'You did something about my drinking,didn't you?'

'No, but you did. And most forcefully, Imight add.'

She held up the drawing for Harry. Tearsglistened in her eyes.

'I did it,' she said.

'I guess you did. It's amazinglyaccurate.'

'How do you know?'

'Because I saw him. The exact man youdrew. He was right outside your room the whole time I was there, just waitingfor the chance to finish what he had started when he ordered Evie's IV.'

'Outside the room?'

'Buffing the floors, listening to aWalkman — the sort of person you look at over and over without actually seeinghim. The nurses never saw him come on the floor after I left because he didn't.He was already there. He left before I returned.'

'Are you sure?' Maura asked.