'That's right.' Sarah smiled. 'I'm glad you came here. Before you came I didn't care about anything.'
'So I make you care again. I'm happy about that.'
'Are you really my friend?'
'Of course.'
'And you won't tell them what we talk about? You'll keep everything a secret?'
'I promise. Is there anything you want to talk about now?'
'Sometimes I wish ... I wish I didn't do bad things. So I wouldn't get punished. But I can't help it. It's scary sometimes when it happens.'
'Like you lose control?'
'Yeah. It's like my head gets full and I. .. empty it.'
'Like a bowl full of gray mush. You just dump it out.'
'Yeah!' Sarah walked quickly across the carpet to stand close to her. She lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper. 'You know what I did yesterday? When they brought me my pills? I pretended to swallow them, only I didn't. I hid 'em under my tongue. Then when they leave I spitted 'em out on the floor and ground 'em up and rubbed the paste under my bed.'
'You spit them out. You didn't swallow them.'
'That's right.' She nodded. 'That way my head doesn't get all. . . fuzzy. Only the shots, I can't do anything about those, see? That's why I hate them.'
Sensing she was being tested, Jess said only, 'I see. That's very clever. You're a clever little girl, grinding up your pills like that.'
'No, I'm not. I'm dumb. See, I told you about it, and now you'll tell them. You won't tell, will you? You promised.'
'I won't tell. Sarah, can I ask you something? Why do you think they give you the pills and the shots?'
'It's a game, see, a big mean game, they're trying to get something from me and I won't let them have it. And they don't really want it anyway because they're scared.'
'Do you know what this thing is?'
'I can't tell you. It's a secret.'
'Hmmm. I like secrets. Maybe you'll share yours with me sometime.'
'You wouldn't like this secret. And anyway, maybe you're just part of the game. Maybe you're on their side and it's all a big trick. You're gonna put me in the bad room!'
'No, Sarah, I would never do that. I would never make you do something you don't want to do, or put you someplace you don't want to be. We're friends, remember?'
But Sarah wasn't listening. 'They want to get rid of me. They're trying to kill me.' She walked to the table and picked up her bear, clutching it to her chest. Then she went back to the window.
'I'm going to break out of here soon,' she said, looking into the sunshine. She was trembling. 'Then they all better watch out. Oh boy, they better.'
--14--
The Fingertip Bar and Grill is located just outside of downtown, directly off the C subway line. Barely visible from the street, unmarked and 'long and thin as the tip of a finger,' it is a favorite of local students looking for someplace a little off the beaten path. Road signs interspersed with the grilles of classic cars decorate the walls like some kind of automotive graveyard. A traffic light mounted over the door flashes green, yellow, and red.
Saturday evening, Jess stepped though into that smoky, alien place, and paused to let her eyes adjust, searching for Charlie. A moment later she spotted the smiling, chocolate-brown face moving toward her from the bar, as jazz swelled and throbbed from somewhere in back. The bar was narrow and deep; drunk students would sometimes confess to getting lost in the depths, and the rumor was that on particular dark nights you could just keep going, that the bar never ended.
'Hey there, girlfriend. Thought you might be thinking about standing me up.'
'Never, Charlie. I haven't been out on the town in a while. I forgot how long it takes to get anywhere.'
The woman appeared concerned, her powerful features managing to seem exotic and warm at the same time. 'You look like death. Come on over here and tell me all about it. We'll get some food into you and you'll feel better. It's not man trouble, is it?'
Jess shook her head and smiled. She followed the swish of Charlie's silk skirt to a small booth against the wall, amazed as always how the crowd seemed to part for her as if by magic. Charlie was a large woman, but lithe and quick on her feet. At twenty-seven, she had a beauty that transcended her size, a breathtaking nobility that others often found intimidating. But she could be refreshingly blunt. They had met in a shared lab class a year earlier, and since then had become fast friends. Jess admired the way nothing ever seemed to get to Charlie.
'If it's not a man,' the woman continued, after they settled into the booth and ordered a plate of nachos and two Blue Moon beers from the tap, 'then it must be family. I can't think of anything else that would make a girl look the way you do.'
Jess wondered how on earth to respond. Normally she was fiercely independent, proud of her ability to thrive on her own. But since she'd returned from Gilbertsville, her evenings had been endless and too quiet. Something fundamental to her own nature had been changed. She felt like a caterpillar that had crawled into a cocoon--though she had no idea what kind of shape she would find herself in when the metamorphosis was over.
She was pleased with the sudden progress Sarah had been making. The girl seemed to be getting comfortable with her and opening up. They were bonding. And she and Shelley had been meeting regularly for coffee to discuss the case. But she was still uncertain about the experience of meeting Sarah's family, and what it all meant. The image of Annie Voorsanger standing up in that dusty, forgotten room, the sound she had made, the sudden, wild look in her eyes, remained with Jess no matter how hard she tried to shake it.
And she was lonely. Late nights were the worst--waking up in the emptiness of her apartment, Otto gone from his customary spot at the foot of her bed. That was when she had the strongest feeling that some basic part of her had been shaken, some simple truth exposed. Her mind seemed to be humming, voices muttering at a distance too far to be overheard. It was then, and only then, that she would allow herself the longing for another human being, anyone who could fill these moments in time with something other than ghosts.
Finally this afternoon she had decided to follow up on something else that had been bothering her. Now she wished she hadn't. Not until tonight had she been so desperately bewildered, so incapable of discovering her true feelings.
'I've been thinking about my brother a lot lately,' Jess said. 'The way he died.'
Charlie knew about her brother. She knew about the agreement with Professor Shelley and the sessions with Sarah. Charlie knew more about Jess Chambers's life than most people. 'I think you've got an angry spirit,' Charlie said. Her eyes sparkled.
'What?'
'An urban myth, you might call it. Anyone you've done harm to will come back to haunt you. The gangs believe it. They're careful about who they shoot. Only,' she said, leaning forward and fixing Jess with those deeply black, shining eyes, 'you didn't harm anyone, least of all your brother. So that's all in your head. Just like it is with those Latin Kings.'
'I don't follow.'
'Simple psychology,' Charlie explained patiently, like mother to child. 'Come on, it's an established phenomenon. A gang member who kills without proper justification decides he's cursed. He'll be dead within a year. Why? Not because he's pursued by the souls he's killed, because he takes risks, he exposes himself, he has a guilty conscience. He makes it happen.'
'Charlie--'
The woman shook her head. Jewelry tinkled somewhere. 'Dear Lord, girl, let yourself go for a bit. I've never seen anyone so wound up. Sometimes I wonder if you're gonna just shoot off right through the ceiling.'
The drinks came. Jess let the cold beer wash down her throat, listening to the thump of the music, the loud chatter of voices. She had spent yet another hour with Sarah just that afternoon, going over what little schooling she had received. She had to search hard for any trace of mental illness; Sarah spoke with an intelligence and sophistication Jess would not have believed if she hadn't been there herself.
And then she had gone home to make the telephone call. And that call had rattled her more than she
