“I did! I did see a doctor a few years ago. He confirmed what I knew, gave me medication that made me feel dead inside, but not better. And I’m convinced my way of coping is better than the drugs. I’m no threat to anyone and I manage just fine!”
“With rituals—walking forward and backward and in circles? Cutting vegetables in precise strips? Slicing meat in perfect pieces? Brushing your hair a certain number of times, doing everything a special way?”
She swallowed. “Don’t you remember how medicine broke him?” she cried. “How it reduced him to a completely emotionless—”
“Treatment is better than it was thirty years ago! You don’t have to be pumped full of Thorazine and dumped like a blob on someone’s couch! You’re a psychologist, for God’s sake!”
The sound of a door opening and feet on the stairs caused them both to turn their heads. Maggie was coming down the stairs. “In two more minutes, you’ll wake Elizabeth, and if you do, she’s all yours.”
“Sorry,” Cal said. “It’s an emotional issue.”
“Go put on the coffee,” Maggie said. She tightened the belt of her robe and sat on the edge of the ottoman facing Sedona. “I know you’re upset and terrified, but there’s no guarantee of his diagnosis. I always encourage my patients to get a second opinion, if there’s time. You have no idea what’s going on, and until you do, enough hysteria. Bob is absolutely right—until you see a doctor and get all the facts, you can’t call the shots. You could have a brain tumor for all you know.”
“I don’t have a brain tumor,” Sedona said. “I’ve run all the tests.”
“You can’t run your own tests,” Maggie said. “In this family Cal is in charge of criminal law, you are in charge of personality disorders and I am in charge of brain tumors. You’re a PhD in clinical psych, and from what I’ve been told, you specialized in adolescent testing.”
“A smoke screen,” she said. “Psychologists and psychiatrists are notorious for studying mental illness because they fear it and want a leg up on their own problems. I did the same thing. I wanted to be sure I wasn’t crazy. Like our father. I’ve studied schizophrenia since I was fourteen.”
“Well, you can relax now, Sedona,” Maggie said. “You don’t need the pressure of knowing everything. I know some of the best psychiatrists in Denver. I want you to stay with us or you can use my house in Denver. Probably not for very long, just until I can arrange an evaluation and possible treatment plan for you. I’ll walk you through it. I won’t let you fall. Working with the brain is a sensitive journey and requires patience. I will be your patience and your crutch. But in case you’re confused about what happened here this morning, we just pulled the rug out from under you. Because we all love you, including Bob and your children. It’s time for a diagnosis and treatment recommendation. This was what we know as an intervention. I don’t think you’ll find anyone to help you propagate your denial. And I’m pretty sure it’s not schizophrenia, but I’m no expert.”
“Why do you say that?” she asked, sniffing back her tears.
“You’re functional. Socially normal. One of the hallmarks of the disease is thinking you’re functional when you’re not, thinking your delusions are real and the real world is a delusion.”
“It’s just a mild case...”
“We’re going to let a medical doctor tell you that.”
“Do Sierra and Dakota have to know about this?” she asked, her voice soft.
“Well, not today,” Maggie said. “For today, on a whim, you decided to stay awhile. That’s good enough for now. Eventually you people have to talk, for Pete’s sake. You’re all skipping fearfully around this same gene! At least share your information!” Then she looked at Sedona more calmly. “How bad are your symptoms?”
“Sometimes very frightening,” she said. “Sometimes I feel pretty normal.”
“Tell me about very frightening,” Maggie urged.
Sedona looked down. “When I hear voices, when I can’t relax, when I’m paranoid and imagine people know what I’m thinking.”
“Anything else remarkable?”
“When the inside of my head is so loud and busy I can’t sleep, sometimes for long periods of time. And then, of course, the symptoms get worse and the sleeping aids don’t work. Then there are some that work a little too well and I’m afraid of addiction or of not waking up. I don’t think we really know how bad Jed’s schizophrenia is with all the pot he smokes.”
“I suggested that at this point it might be counterproductive,” Maggie said. “Sedona, those symptoms, while suspicious and disconcerting, don’t necessarily prove schizophrenia. You might’ve been describing an overworked, stressed-out, exhausted neurosurgery resident. I’ll make some phone calls today. What else can we do to give you some peace of mind?”
Sedona wore a hopeless expression. “I’m not sure I want any more information about my condition. I’m comfortable thinking it’s a light case that flares up sometimes, like when I’m stressed or tired.”
“But that doesn’t really sound like schizophrenia.”
“Jed had quiet periods,” she said. Cal delivered coffee to Sedona and Maggie. “I shouldn’t drink this,” Sedona said.
“Decaf,” Cal replied.
“What am I to tell Sierra and Dakota about why I’m still here?”
Maggie shrugged. “Tell them you and Bob are fighting, talking about separating, you needed some time away and don’t care to discuss it. It wouldn’t be a lie.”
“Right,” Sedona said.
Maggie smiled. “Also not typical of a schizophrenic. They usually say what’s on their minds, however bizarre it might be.” Maggie took Sedona’s hand. “I will find you a good doctor and I’ll take you there myself.”
It is not flesh and blood but the heart
which makes us fathers and sons.
—JOHANN SCHILLER
10
DAKOTA WASN’T AWARE that Sid might say something to her brother about their new relationship, but in thinking about it, of course she would. Sidney and Rob were very close and Sid spent a great deal of time managing their home and the boys, whenever needed. Fortunately at fourteen and sixteen, with their father just down the street at the bar and checking in all the time, they didn’t need her supervision very often. Sid snuck out to Dakota’s cabin Tuesday morning, then excused herself from work a couple of evenings that week. She brought them a hamburger to-go box and said she couldn’t stay long, but they made the very most of their time together.
Then a week after Sierra’s wedding, when Dakota was having dinner at the bar, Rob brought his food from the kitchen. He placed it in front of Dakota and spoke quietly. “Be very good to her. She’s more fragile than she seems.”
Startled, Dakota frowned. He thought about answering with some kind of challenge. Then he thought of his own protectiveness of Sierra. “Of course!” he whispered.
Rob gave a single nod of his head and turned away.
A few minutes later Sid was standing before him, smiling.
“Your brother warned me to be good to you.”
“I hope you didn’t tell him exactly how good you are,” she said with a sly smile.
“I was a little surprised. Not that he warned me. That you told him.”
“I had to tell him. If I go mysteriously missing with no explanation, he might call out the search and rescue team. Trust me, it’s safer this way. And I told him you were an absolute gentleman.”
He got a lascivious glint in his eyes. “I’m having very ungentlemanly thoughts of what I’d like to do to you right now. When can I see you?” Dakota whispered.
“I’m driving the boys to something tomorrow night—batting cage practice—so it would be late...”
“Anytime,” he said, grinning. “Do you want to go out?”
“Maybe on the weekend? Friday night, since I’m committed t
o Mary Jacob on Saturday night...”
“Perfect. Just decide when and what you’d like to do.”
“You’re very accommodating, Cody,” she said so no one could hear.
“I’d be pretty stupid not to be,” he said with a grin.
“I do have to work,” she said just as some uniformed troopers came into the bar for their dinner.
“Go,” he said. “I get a big kick out of just watching you.”
He enjoyed the sight of her zipping around behind the bar, loved the quick smile on her lips and easy laugh for the customers, even the men he was tempted to be jealous of. The troopers got a fair amount of attention and conversation, and this made Dakota happy because he knew if this was a cop bar, Sid was always in good hands should the need ever arise. But in a sweet little town like Timberlake, the need would seldom arise.
It took willpower for him to stay away at all. He knew if he gave in to temptation, he would be here every night from dinnertime until she headed home at nine or ten or even later.
But he didn’t want to crowd her, overwhelm her. He had other people to see, even if the urge was not nearly as strong. He usually had dinner with Sully one night a week; sometimes he’d drop in on Cal and sometimes Sierra. Sedona had stayed for a few days past the wedding, and even though she could get on his last nerve, he spent one evening at Cal’s, visiting with his sister. He was more than ready for her to leave—she seemed to be getting a little more nervous and controlling as she got older and he was not too surprised to learn that her husband was threatening divorce if she didn’t find a way to curb her perfectionist tendencies.
He was watching Sid work when a flash of color distracted him. He turned to see Neely walking into the bar. She looked around briefly and then, spotting him at the bar, she turned left and went the other way, looking for a table. She looked back at him and there was no mistaking it; she gave him an angry, nasty look.
Neely took a seat on the far side of the room. He couldn’t help but notice her attire, and women’s clothes were not something he paid a great deal of attention to. But every time he’d seen Neely, she’d been wearing very expensive and what he assumed were incredibly fashionable clothes. Tonight it was a black leather skirt with a fringe running down one side to the hem, red leather high-heeled boots and a multicolored leather jacket with a lot of red in it. Her hair was down and full and even from across the room he could see her dark eyes and red lips. She didn’t look like she was dressed for a casual night in a bar. He was momentarily glad he’d parked his Jeep under a streetlight. She was starting to give him the creeps, coming on to him one minute, glaring at him the next.
But then Sid was back and Neely ceased to exist for him.
“I think people are starting to talk,” she said. “You’re in here too much and the way you look at me is way too obvious.”
“Good,” he said. “I’d really like to put up a sign—Sid’s Off the Market.”
“I was already off the market,” she corrected. “Then you showed up and I had a slip in judgment.”
“Then we both did. I really like it like this.”
“I thought we agreed we’d keep it, you know, kind of low-key. Bad divorce and all.”
“Listen, I don’t know where this is going, Sid,” he said in a low voice, barely above a whisper. “But it doesn’t matter how we end up, I would never do to you what he did to you. Right now we’re checking it out. And it checks out pretty damn good. How late are you working tonight?”
“Rob went home to have dinner with the boys earlier so he said I could leave by nine if I want to. I really need some sleep!”
“I’ll hang around, get you home.”
“But I’m not going out tonight. I’m not going to your place. I really am tired. I must be getting worn out somehow.”
That made him smile. “I’ve never felt so well rested in my life.”
“I think there’s something seriously wrong with you.”
“Not anymore,” he said.
* * *
On Monday, Dakota’s day off, he spent the morning with Sid. After she’d gotten the kids off to school and Rob had gone to work to occupy himself with accounting and ordering supplies, she went to Dakota’s cabin. They had a leisurely morning of breakfast, love, quiet talk, and then Sid went home. Dakota was a little afraid of how this morning delight on his day off might change when the boys got out of school.
Having seen Neely’s reaction to him the previous night, Dakota decided he was going to follow up on his slashed tires with Stan, the police chief. He waited until after the lunch hour was over, then sauntered into the office. “Hey, Stan,” he said. “Got a minute?”
“For you, I got ten,” Stan said cheerfully.
“I’ll try to be brief. I wanted to follow up on something. I was wondering if the woman whose tire I was asked to fix came in here to talk to you. Neely. I’m afraid I don’t know her last name but she’s unforgettable. Very beautiful. Dresses real... Rich.”
Stan frowned. “Yes, she was here,” he said. “Have a seat, Dakota.”
“I don’t like that look,” Dakota said, sitting in front of Stan’s desk. They were not alone, which made him even more uncomfortable—there was a civilian woman and another officer, both working in the office. They seemed to be occupied with their own work, but still.
“Did you know she’d be coming in to talk to me?” Stan asked.
“I asked her to,” Dakota said. “I bumped into her and told her how much it pissed me off that my tire was punctured and all the others deflated and that I suspected her and she told me she had nothing to do with it. She claimed there was some ex-boyfriend who’d been stalking her or something like that. She seemed a little worried that he might’ve done that and I asked her to tell you.”
“That isn’t exactly what she told me,” Stan said. “She told me she asked you to help her put on a spare and after the tire was on there was a bit of a tussle. She couldn’t call it assault and didn’t want to press charges, but she said you crossed the line. You told her you assumed she’d return the favor with affection. And that she shoved you away and slapped your face.”
Dakota was speechless. His mouth hung open; he could feel it. “You have got to be kidding,” he said, shock drawing out each word. “Seriously?”
“I’m afraid so,” Stan said.
“Jesus, why didn’t you call me? Bring me in for a talking-to?” Dakota asked. “Something!”
“You need a talking-to, Dakota?” Stan asked sagely.
“Aw, hell, it was the other way around. She asked me to fix her tire but there wasn’t anything wrong with the tire, and once we were alone in the alley, she attacked me. Well, she plastered herself against me and kissed me and I had to peel her off me. You can ask Sid—I left my beer on the bar and was back in less than ten minutes, almost all of that time spent walking to the alley and back.” He shook his head. “Holy shit, there is something seriously wrong with that woman.”
“So, you didn’t come on a little too strong?” Stan asked.
“She’s been coming on to me and I guess she’s the one who’s pissed off. Just so you know, we’re trying to play it cool, be discreet, but I’m seeing Sid. I took her to my sister’s wedding. We work together at the soup kitchen in Colorado Springs every week. I don’t have any interest in this Neely character. And she’s real aggressive.”
“Neely Benedict,” Stan supplied. Then he smiled. “Sid, huh?”
“Don’t smile at that,” Dakota said. “Why didn’t you tell me I was accused of assault?”
“Well, it’s not exactly assault as it was described and there doesn’t seem to be a victim, since she said she wasn’t pressing charges. She just wanted me to be aware on the chance you’re a little off and we have trouble with you.”
“On the chance I’m a little off?” he asked incredulously.
“And then there’s the fact that I wasn’t inclined to believe her,” Stan said.
Dakota sat back in his chair and let all the breath he didn’t realize he was holding escape. He ran a hand through his hair. “Well, thanks for saving that for last.”
“You might’ve told me up front about the disagreement, about being set up for some romantic purpose,” Stan said.
“Yeah, Cal suggested that. But I watched her get in her car and I had no desire to make trouble for her. I was very stern, told her never to do that again and thought the matter was taken care of. I suspected her of the damage but I didn’t have proof.”
“I know you didn’t do what she said,” Stan said. “I have something to show you. Give me a second.” Stan clicked the keyboard on his computer, then turned the screen toward Dakota. It was a dark image. Dakota squinted to make it out; Neely’s red wrap made it easier. And that was him, bending to look at the tire, then standing only to have her lunge at him. And he grappled to push her off.
“Jesus,” he said. “There it is.”
“Oh, there’s more.”
Indeed, it took Neely quite a while to get out of her car after he’d left the alley and then, looking around cautiously, she bent to the task of letting the air out of his tires.
“What’s that in her hand?” he asked.
“A tire deflator,” Stan said. “With a light.”
When there was only one tire left, she went back to her car, dug around inside, then went after the final tire with a knife. Dakota winced when he saw that.
Stan turned the screen back. “Obviously I’d like you to say nothing about this.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“Security camera on the back of the bank. It’s not very obvious. Apparently she wasn’t aware of it. A lot of people think a little hick town like Timberlake wouldn’t have any use for such a thing.”
“Are you going to arrest her?”
Stan shook his head. “The image isn’t quite clear enough. Besides, it would only be a misdemeanor. She might not even get a fine. I’m going to hold on to this while I look a little deeper. This is going to stay between you and me. That’s all I’m prepared to say. Except I don’t know that you should turn your back when this woman is around.”