Of all the scenarios she’d worried about when recommending Tim for release, she had never imagined that Stern might be an object of terror to his son. During the assessment process, her only fear was that, once the two of them were alone in the house, either Stern would lash out in frustration, or Tim would finish what he’d started that rainy August night in 1977.
Next to her on the bench, her phone vibrated.
‘Dr Cartwright? How’s our patient doing?’ It was Harrison, sounding more upbeat than concerned.
‘He’s asleep. And heavily sedated. When I arrived, he was awake and alert but extremely agitated.’
‘Psychotic?’
‘I don’t believe so.’ She debated whether to tell Harrison that Tim might be remembering the murders. But it wasn’t a conversation to have over the phone.
The silence lengthened before Harrison spoke again. ‘Did he tell you the same story, that his father tried to smother him with a pillow?’
‘Not in so many words.’ She hesitated, trying to gauge Harrison’s mood by the sound of his breathing. ‘With your permission, I’d like to question Tim under hypnosis.’ A new approach to a therapy that had been attempted before. She had an argument ready if he insisted it was useless to try.
Harrison cleared his throat. In the background, she could hear the shuffling of papers. ‘I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm, though I’m sure I mentioned before that we tried several times in the past with little success. The last attempt was about twelve years ago, I believe.’ The sound of a window closing, the rattle of keys. ‘I can’t get away this evening,’ he said. ‘And tomorrow I have to drive to Albany for a critical meeting about Greenlake’s closure.’ She could hear the sound of paper being torn in two. ‘I do agree it’s best not to send Tim home until we get to the bottom of this,’ he said. ‘It could be something as simple as night terrors or a bad dream, but until we know for sure…’
Erin confirmed she could remain in Burlington for another two days. It would mean admitting to Niels she was still involved in the case. And someone would have to cover her patients for a day or two, but that couldn’t be helped.
*
After a night of restless sleep at a nearby hotel, Erin fortified herself with a cup of weak tea and a soggy pastry before returning to the hospital. Tim was in bed, exactly as she’d left him, flat on his back and staring at the ceiling.
‘How are you feeling this morning?’ She hung back by the door. ‘I spoke with Dr Harrison yesterday. He’s worried about you.’ She stepped into the room and pulled up a chair. ‘He suggested we try something. It might help you remember what happened the other night.’
Nothing moved. Tim might have been carved from stone.
‘It won’t hurt. It feels like going to sleep. All you need to do is lie quietly with your eyes closed and listen to my voice. If you don’t feel comfortable, we can stop at any time.’
When Tim tried to speak, it came out as a croak. ‘You’ll put thoughts in my head, like a… seed. Alien seeds.’
She shifted to the foot of the bed, so he could see her. ‘I’m only going to ask you a few questions. No alien seeds. I promise. Okay?’
Was that a nod? For ethical reasons, she needed his consent. It looked like a nod, or close enough. In the hallway, a nurse was waiting with a syringe of sodium amytal. Its effect as a so-called truth serum had long been discredited, but it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. If nothing else, it would help Tim relax.
When Erin motioned to the nurse, she approached the bed and smiled. ‘A little something to help you feel better, Timothy.’ The needle was in and out before he could react.
A slow drip would be more effective, but this was all she had. Erin gave the drug a few minutes to do its work, before moving the chair out of Tim’s line of vision. In her lap, she switched on the mini-recorder that would capture anything Tim said while under hypnosis. First, she’d take him through the recent events at the farmhouse and, if the questioning went well, attempt to coax him all the way back to August 1977, and the night of the murders.
‘Okay, Timothy, I’d like you to close your eyes now. In your mind, I want you to visualise your arms and legs and imagine how relaxed they are. Now I want you to pay attention to your breath as it moves in and out of your lungs. Your arms and legs are heavy, your breathing is steady. Your whole body is relaxed. Imagine you’re floating on a big white cloud. Breathe in… breathe out. Relaxed and floating. Floating and breathing. Your limbs are heavy and completely relaxed.’ She went on like this for another minute or so. ‘Focus on my voice, Timothy. You’re safe here. No one will hurt you.’
She held her breath and waited. Tim’s eyes were closed, his breathing steady.
‘Now, I’d like you to think of a pleasant place, somewhere you feel safe. In this place you’re surrounded by a golden healing light, and nothing can harm you. Are you in that place now?’
‘Light. Golden.’
‘Yes, that’s good. Think about how nice it feels to be surrounded by this warm golden light. You can go back to that place any time you feel frightened.’
With a click and whoosh of air, the ventilation system came on. Erin tensed, but he didn’t stir.
‘Now, Timothy, I want you to go back to last Saturday. A light rain was falling all afternoon, but it’s evening now and the sky is clear. You’ve finished eating supper in the kitchen at your father’s house and have gone to your bedroom. Can you describe it for me?’
‘Blue. Door
