The Reach

office downstairs, diddling one of the nurses. When the sounds of their union grew to be too much to bear Evan would ride up the creaking elevator to these vast and then empty rooms, crumbling paint and chipped linoleum, footsteps echoing like the whispers of a ghostly companion. There were always interesting games to play, closets and more hidden spaces to explore. Every once in a while he would discover one of his grandfather's lists, tucked away in the back of a drawer or cabinet like some sort of treasure map in code.

How he had loved this place, even then. How he had hated his father for letting it fall to pieces. His father was not fit for the job; his grandfather's death had forced the issue.

He wondered what his grandfather would think of all this now. The children's welfare had been the most important thing to him. He was a much better man than me, Wasserman thought. I am putting them all at risk.

He wondered why he was so restless tonight. Perhaps it was the girl Jean had sent him. She was attractive, certainly, more attractive than most with her high cheekbones, raven-black hair, and determined mouth; a glow about her, a focused strength. She seemed very bright and capable. All this worried him very much. He picked up the phone and hit a number on his speed dial.

The phone was picked up on the fifth ring. There was a long moment of silence. 'I'm sorry to bother you,' Wasserman said. 'You weren't sleeping? I didn't wake you?'

'As a matter of fact, you did.'

'That girl, Jess Chambers. I don't know that she's right for this.'

'We've talked it to death, Evan. We've gone over it a thousand times. You know the odds, they're worse than winning the lottery.'

'She's headstrong, very pushy. She has a problem with authority. I don't like her.'

'You don't have to like her. It's Sarah we're concerned with. The bond will form, take my word for it. I think the first session went well.'

'She was agitated afterward. We had to sedate her again.'

'That's a good sign. Look, you've been with this from the beginning. But if you want to throw in the towel, by all means, let me know. We can pull the plug right now. Just never mind what it would mean for your funding. I hate to be selfish, but you know what that will mean for me. It's a death sentence, Evan.'

Wasserman clenched the phone. He fought his instant panic at the thought, and hated the way his voice sounded afterward. 'Don't say that. We'll go on, of course we will. We'll get things up and running again. I'm just concerned about introducing a new element into all this. I don't want Chambers . . . testing me. And she'd better not talk -to anyone.'

'It doesn't matter. Nobody's going to believe her.'

That was right, of course. He was a respected member of the APA, and no matter how unconventional his treatment, there would be nobody who would get through security to see it.

But there were countless other things to consider. The late-night hours invited so many insecurities. He worried about money-hungry developers trying to yank the land out from under him, or worse, putting a strip mall in his backyard. He worried about what he might have to do if their plans backfired. They were sitting on a time bomb, for God's sake.

But most of all, he worried about losing the only person other than his grandfather who had ever meant anything to him.

He sighed. 'I don't have to tell you what could happen here if she loses control again.'

'We don't have a choice. That's a risk we have to take. Now stop worrying and get some sleep, please. You need to be fresh when Helix comes in for the next site visit. Impress them, or we're both in trouble. You know what I mean, Evan.

There was a long pause on both ends. I need you, he thought, but didn't say anything. Damn it, he was never able to say it.

Don't even think about dying on me.

'Good night,' he said softly.

He hung up the phone and stared out at the murky right sky.

It was all true, of course; he needed to get his head together and prepare, or things would get bad very fast. He had worked very hard to regain the upper hand in this case, and he did not want to lose it now. The possibilities were far too frightening.

He thought about the Room upstairs, and his mind seemed to stretch and threaten to get away from him.

He set about making a list of the things they wanted to accomplish. The list was long. He scratched things out and started again, working silently in his office until it was far too late to go home. Began to imagine the girl housed somewhere below his feet. Just below his feet. Then he unfolded his bed from the closet and went to sleep with the lights still burning as a talisman against a deeper darkness.

--7--

In classes Jess felt as if she had been set adrift, awash in the steady drone of flat voices, the words in her textbooks failing to hold her interest. She was anxious to be doing something. The gaps in Sarah's file bothered her terribly. Through all the reports there had been precious little psychiatric opinion. She had to have some more information before she met with Wasserman. She was determined never to allow him to have the same advantage over her again.

In her class on personality disorders, Professor Thomas singled her out to be his latest target. The little auditorium was filled with the rustling of papers as everyone tried desperately to look busy. They were trying to avoid 'the stick,' a nickname students had for the wooden yardstick the professor used to point out offending members of his class. As far as anyone knew, he had yet to make physical contact with it; but nobody wanted to be the first.

Thomas was a very large black man in his sixties with a full head of gray hair, which most of his students assumed was a wig. He was also an expert on personality development, and he often traveled across the country to speak on the subject.

'Self-control,' Thomas said. 'Is acting-out behavior 'outgrown'?' He tapped the stick lightly on the back of an empty seat. 'Miss Chambers? Do you feel that aggression is an inherent trait, or something that can be unlearned?'

'Kohn shows us a definite link between defiant behavior in preschoolers and subsequent aggression during adolescence. But not all of his subjects remained aggressive throughout their lives.'

'What is your personal opinion?'

'It's a matter of degree. If we looked at the severity of the aggressive behavior, I think the data would hold up. The behavior has to fit into the parameters of the subject's stage of development.'

'Example.'

'If a three-year-old is throwing temper tantrums, that's normal for his age. If the tantrums involve beating another child senseless with a yardstick, that's cause for concern.'

Snickers from several people in class. 'All of you should stop laughing long enough to clear your ears,' Thomas said, pointing. The yardstick quivered in the air as if it were eager to strike. 'Miss Chambers's logic may seem obvious to you all, but she has just given us an excellent example of using what we have learned to form an opinion. A diagnosis and eventual treatment follows the same line of thought. Now, what would you do to diagnose the disorder in such a hypothetical?'

'It's difficult to say without more information. Is the problem chemical? Biological? Environmental? I'd investigate a number of factors: abuse in the home, previous patterns of behavior, any relatives with overaggressive tendencies. Is he learning by example? Or are there other indicators of a chemical imbalance, previous head trauma, even possible brain damage?'

Thomas nodded. 'Each case is unique,' he said. He let the yardstick touch to the floor, and it thumped. 'It's vital not to have any biases when you begin. You must weigh the evidence and eliminate possibilities, one by one.'

After class they stood below the semicircle of seats as students slowly filed out, a few of them staring curiously back like drivers past the scene of an accident.

'I want you to know that the yardstick comment did not go unnoticed,' Thomas said. 'By the way, I never