Vivian rather than a baby-sitter. And when Elise was working odd hours-which was most of the time-Audrey stayed with Thomas and Vivian. They loved her every bit as much as Elise did, which made it easier for Elise to sleep at night and do a good job during the day, knowing Audrey was safe and loved and well cared for.
When it came time for Audrey to begin school, it seemed practical for Audrey to go to school near Thomas and Vivian. Schools were better and less dangerous in the suburbs, and if Elise was working late, she didn't need to worry about Audrey.
Even before the twins came along, Thomas, Audrey, and Vivian had been a real family with a traditional life. And they had a schedule. A routine to their days that rarely varied. That was important. Something a child needed.
Sometimes Elise felt tainted. Tainted by her past. Tainted by her job.
Vivian was solid. Stable.
People thought it strange that she and Elise were friends, but to Elise it had always seemed natural. There had never been any hostility in the divorce, only a realization that she and Thomas couldn't have been more wrong for each other.
Audrey looked in their direction and waved.
Elise and Vivian waved back.
The mob broke apart and Audrey ran toward the bleachers in her red-and-white uniform with matching striped socks. Along one side, from waist to ankle, was dirt-stained evidence of her slide.
She put down her ball glove and held out her hands to Tyler. He began squealing in delight, arms outstretched.
'Got him?' Elise asked.
Audrey kept her eyes locked on her little brother. 'Yep,' she said with a beautiful smile. She tucked Tyler firmly against her. He immediately grabbed her hair with a gummy, cookie-encrusted fist.
'Oh, my God!' Audrey said. 'He is so gross] He's getting my hair full of gross stuff!'
Elise watched as her daughter and Vivian looked at each other and began laughing hysterically.
The family life Audrey had with Thomas and Vivian was good. She was happy. But for Elise, the price of that happiness may have been the loss of her daughter.
Chapter 10
'As your psychiatrist, I have to ask-are you thinking of harming yourself?'
'Of course not.'
'Are you thinking of harming anyone else?'
With the phone to his ear, David Gould stared at the cat for a long time. Bern 's cat.
'David?' his psychiatrist asked in her calm voice. 'David? Are you still there?'
'No. I mean yes-I'm here. And no, I'm not thinking of harming anyone else.'
Getting off drugs cold turkey-no matter that they were pharmaceutical-had seemed like a good idea on Friday, not long after Elise had brought up his lack of engagement. Today was Sunday. Well, actually Monday, since it was long past midnight, and David was crawling out of his skin.
Stopping the antidepressants was doing a strange number on his head.
In all the time he'd been taking them, he hadn't experienced a single high or low. He hadn't experienced anger, or joy, or sorrow. He wasn't even sure he could
say he existed. But now… now all that was changing. Now he was AWAKE, with capital letters. Awake after almost two years of being dead.
But you wanted to be dead. Didn't you even ask the cops to kill you? To put you out of your misery? To stop the pain?
Agony rushed up his throat, threatening to choke him.
He couldn't deal with the memories now. One thing at a time.
Control. Control. Control.
It was an FBI agent's mantra. It was his mantra.
This was like a rebirth. A baptism.
Emotions he'd forgotten existed pulsed through him. Pain. Anger. Sorrow.
Wonderful emotions. Overwhelming emotions. Too many at once. Too intense. Let some of it in, but not all of it. Slam that door. He couldn't handle it all. Not yet.
'Is there anyone in Savannah you can call?' Dr. Fisher asked.
He hadn't switched psychiatrists when he'd moved to Savannah because he hadn't wanted the people he worked with to know he was seeing a shrink-something that had turned into an issue in Ohio. As soon as coworkers had become aware of his problem, things changed and they began to second-guess him. Not a safe situation for anyone involved. When he realized what was going on, he decided to start over somewhere new. A clean slate.
'Your partner, perhaps?'
His partner? 'Out of the question.'
What would he say to Elise? Hey, I'm flipping out and wondered if you could come over and hold my hand?
'You've been working with her for three months. Surely it wouldn't be out of line to give her a call.'
Three months. Yeah, normally you would kind of know somebody by then. 'I've been a little… disconnected.'
David was sitting on the floor of the combination living room/kitchen, back to the wall, phone balanced on one thigh.
He noticed that his leg was jiggling.
He made it stop.
The room was dark-the only light he'd turned on was the one above the stove. 'Believe me, calling my partner is out of the question.'
What was that smell? Like wood that had been soaked in urine for twenty years. And sick, fevered bodies.
Yellow fever.
It's my apartment. My fucking apartment.
No wonder his sister had been so appalled.
Sorry, Sis.
His apartment smelled like a nursing home and he hadn't even known it.
His leg was jiggling again.
'Are you still on your meds? Both the Paxil and Valium?'
'I may have missed a few doses.'
'You can't do that.'
'Actually… I'm thinking of quitting them both completely.'
'David, that's not a good idea. You've been through a very traumatic event.'
'It's been almost two years.'
'That's not much time when dealing with something of this magnitude.'
Why had he called her? He knew what the problem was. And he knew how she'd fix it. But he was tired of being a lobotomized idiot. If the idea behind the* cocktail she'd prescribed was to feel nothing, then it had certainly done the trick.
Then she said the C word. And the T word.
'It's not good to quit cold turkey. There have been some serious problems with patients who weren't stepped down gradually.'
Yep. David had heard about them. Not only heard, but seen. Some people went nuts. They even killed. Anti- depressants were being found in the bloodstreams of murderers. Was it because they were the ones who needed help, or did the drugs finally establish an unreality that allowed them to move past the thought, the fantasy stage,
