Bad Thoughts (9 page)

      
They never found out what happened during his disappearances. Except for one year . . .

      
Three years ago, he had ended up in a crack house in Chelsea living with a prostitute. A few weeks after he came back home, the girl showed up at their apartment to give Susan back Bill’s driver’s license. She also wanted to tell Susan about it. She was no more than eighteen, haggard looking, thin, her skull just about shining through her flesh, her arms nothing but a mess of scars. It broke Susan’s heart to look at her. The girl was pretty much doped up but she was able to describe in detail her week with Bill. She thought Susan had a right to know about it. She was also hoping that maybe Susan could give her some money.

      
Susan almost left him then. She came within a heartbeat of packing her clothes and getting the hell out, but she knew he didn’t have any idea of what he’d done. That it was a completely blank screen to him. So he begged and pleaded with her, his eyes as tortured as anything she’d ever seen, and in the end what choice did she have? Besides, at the time she probably still loved him. She wasn’t sure, though, whether she could forgive him.

      
As it was she wouldn’t have sex with him for six months, and after that only with condoms for another year. And there were his periodic HIV tests. And time fixed things, at least it dulled the hurt.

      
That was three years ago. The year after that was when he came home with the rat bites up and down both legs. And then last year . . .

      
It was all starting up again . . .

      
Of course, he would never tell her what triggered his yearly breakdowns. Whenever she pressed him, he’d become silent and distant. He knew what was behind it, but he wouldn’t trust her with the knowledge. That was the one thing she couldn’t forgive him for. Maybe more than anything that was why she thought constantly about leaving him.

      
Susan dried her face with a paper towel and then gave a quick glance in the mirror before leaving. She didn’t like the look in her eyes, but under the circumstances she looked as normal as she could expect. On her way back to her desk, Sid Lischten, having been laying in wait, sprung out at her.

      
“You were in there twenty minutes!” he accused. He was an old man without much flesh around his face or body. As he stood staring at Susan, his mouth twisted unpleasantly.

      
“Excuse me?”

      
“What the hell were you doing in there, your laundry?” he demanded, his voice booming throughout the office. It didn’t seem possible for so much noise to come out of such a withered body. Susan could feel heads turning towards them.

      
“No, I wasn’t doing my laundry,” she stated slowly, her own voice trembling.

      
“What else could you’ve been doing in there for twenty minutes?” Lischten asked sarcastically. The unpleasantness around his mouth had spread throughout his face, leaving his small eyes bulging. “Unless you just needed to get away from it all. Is that it, a little vacation, huh? You’ve had over an hour and a half to get me the Haines contract. I could’ve typed it myself in half that time.”

      
“I’ll have it for you as soon as I can.”

      
Susan turned and started towards her desk. Lischten yelled out to her back that if she thought she was too pretty to lose her job then she’d better think again.

      
By the time she sat down she was shaking. Donna leaned over and whispered to her that it would do the old bastard right if someone slipped Ex-Lax into his coffee. “Maybe it would loosen him up,” she added. “He looks constipated, doesn’t he? Anyway, we all know he’s full of shit.”

      
“I hope he chokes on it,” Susan muttered.

      
“Yeah, you’re not the only one. What do you call a hundred dead lawyers on the bottom of the ocean?”

      
“A good start.”

      
It was a lame joke, one that they told each other whenever things got unbearable. Donna gave Susan’s arm a little squeeze before turning back to her work. Susan was still shaking. She hugged herself tightly trying to stop. She couldn’t afford to lose her job now, not if she was going to leave Bill.

      
The thought stopped her. Had she already made the decision?

      
The phone rang. It was Joe DiGrazia calling to tell her what had happened to her husband. She listened quietly and then thanked him. After getting off the phone, she sat for a minute and then forced herself to type up the Haines contract.
 
 

Chapter 10
 

      
As Bill Shannon lay on Dr. Elaine Horwitz’s couch, he turned his head and caught her fidgeting with her pants, trying to smooth out a crease that had formed. The sight of her brought a genuine smile to his lips. She was pretty, maybe not as much as his wife, Susie, but in her own way very attractive. Frizzy red hair, dazzling green eyes, and the softest, most alluring smile he had ever seen. Maybe her complexion was a bit too pale, and her lips too full, and maybe there was a slight awkwardness to her body, but it all seemed to add to her sensuality.

      
He knew he made her nervous; he also knew she dressed up for him. On the days of his scheduled appointments she’d usually be wearing short skirts, sheer stockings, a soft rose–colored lipstick, and always her contacts and faint traces of Giorgio perfume. Whenever he would show up unscheduled she would almost always be in pants and wearing wire-framed glasses, barely any makeup and never any perfume.

      
She caught him smiling at her and she smiled back. “You seem to be feeling better,” she said.

      
He nodded and kept smiling at her.

      
“I wish you hadn’t missed your last appointment.”

      
“Sorry, I wasn’t feeling up to it.”

      
“Those are the times you have to come here,” she reprimanded, her smile weakening. “Tell me why you were so angry at being put on short-term disability?”

      
“I felt betrayed,” Shannon said. “Sonofabitch should’ve cut me some slack.”

      
“Why is that?”

      
“Because of the job I’ve done for him over the years.” His lips curled into an angry smile. “He owes me that.”

      
“You don’t see the danger—”

      
“That’s bullshit. If I’m able to go in, I’m able to do the job.”

      
“But not today.”

      
Shannon didn’t answer her.

      
“It might be a good idea for you to rest the next two weeks.”

      
Shannon was shaking his head. “I need the work,” he said. “It helps get me out of bed in the morning. It gives me something to focus on. To keep my mind off things. I think it’s my only shot to beat this thing.”

      
“That’s not necessarily true,” Elaine Horwitz said. “There may be better ways for you to heal yourself. Maybe keeping your mind off of murder investigations might be one of them.” She reached over and started the tape recorder on her desk. “Tell me about the dreams you’ve been having. How much of them do you remember?”

      
Shannon thought for a while, his face rigid. “Not much at all. I really only have a vague impression of them.”

      
Horwitz waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she asked about his impressions.

      
Shannon shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “That I was somehow responsible for my mother’s death.”

      
“How?”

      
“I don’t know.”

      
“And that boy today, the one who murdered his mother, he’s thirteen?”

      
“Yeah.”

      
“The same age you were when your mother was murdered?”

      
“That’s right.”

      
“And in your mother’s death the body was found with a knife stuck in her mouth. In this case the woman had a knife left in her throat.”

      
Shannon didn’t say anything.

      
“Do you think that’s why seeing that boy had the effect it did on you? That it reinforced your feelings of guilt towards your mother?”

      
“Maybe,” Shannon shook his head. “I don’t know. But I didn’t kill my mother. This kid did.”

      
“No, you didn’t. But you could still be feeling guilty about it. Maybe feeling if you’d come home earlier, instead of hanging out with your friends, you could’ve saved her. Do you think that’s possible?”

      
“That I could’ve saved her?”

      
“No, that you think you could’ve saved her.”

      
“Maybe I could’ve,” Shannon admitted.

      
“Except the man who murdered your mother was twenty years old. You were only thirteen. What chance would you have had against him?”

      
A slow anger started in him, and he could feel the heat rise up his neck. “Maybe I could’ve done something—”

      
Elaine Horwitz had gotten up from her chair and moved over to him so she was kneeling by his side. She took hold of his hand with both of hers.

      
“Bill, you wouldn’t have been able to do anything. He would’ve overpowered and murdered you, also. That’s all that would’ve changed if you had come home earlier. I guarantee you, your mother wouldn’t have wanted that.”

      
Shannon looked into Elaine Horwitz’s eyes and felt his heart skip a beat. Her hands felt nice holding his. There was a warmth, a softness to them that he didn’t want to let go of. He found himself momentarily lost in her green eyes.

      
“I think we’re making a real breakthrough here.” She gave his hand one final tight squeeze before letting go. Then she stood up and went back to her chair.

      
“I really feel positive about today,” Horwitz said, a soft smiling breaking over her face. “I really believe you’re going to be fine.”

      
Shannon waited a ten-count before clearing his throat, waited until the effect of her smile passed through him. Then he forced a shrug. “I was feeling that way also until I started to fall apart. Just like all the other years.”

      
“But this year it’s different. You’re more committed to healing yourself.”

      
“I’ve seen other therapists before.”

      
“But you’ve never opened up like this before. You’ve told me so yourself. And this breakthrough today is real. These feelings of guilt have been lurking within your subconscious for a long time. They’re baseless, of course, but they’ve still been doing a number on you. Now that they’ve been brought to the surface, let’s squash them completely. Admit to yourself there’s nothing to be guilty about, that you couldn’t have done anything to have saved your mother. Please, Bill, admit it out loud.”

      
He obliged her, more for her benefit that his. Usually he had a strong intuitive sense when he was on the right track. That was what allowed him to close more cases over the past six years than any other detective in the precinct. The only thing he was feeling in his gut now was queasy. He mentioned to Horwitz about not being sure if she was right.

      
“Guilt can be a very destructive force. It can manifest into physical as well as mental illness. You’ve been suppressing your feelings of guilt concerning your mother’s murder for twenty years. They’re the root cause of your depression and blackouts.”

      
“And I only feel this guilt for a couple of weeks a year?”

      
“No. I’m sure you feel it all year long. It probably becomes unbearable around the anniversary of your mother’s death. The depression allows you to numb out these feelings, the blackouts allow you to hide from them.”

      
Shannon thought about this. It made sense in a way. Maybe he needed to hit the booze when the depression no longer did the trick, and when the booze stopped working the blackouts did, offering the necessary escape. It was possible. He swung his legs around so he was sitting on the couch facing her.

      
“So that’s it?” he asked doubtfully. “I’m cured?”

      
“You’re well on your way.” She paused while she rubbed a finger along the length of her cheek. “I would like to see you tomorrow. How is three o’clock? We’ve talked about hypnotism before, and I know you have strong feelings against it, but I believe at this point it’s crucial. I’m going to invite a hypnotherapist to tomorrow’s session.”

      
“I’d really rather you didn’t—”

      
“Bill,” she stopped him, her green malachite eyes determined. “We’re at a crossroad right now. If we can tap into your subconscious, we can allow you to fully come to terms with your guilt. Your recovery requires it. You don’t have to have a breakdown this year.” She paused and gave him a reassuring smile. “The hypnotherapist is very good,” she added. “I’ve been working with him for years.”

      
The idea of opening himself up to hypnotism troubled him. He had told Elaine only part of what happened with his mother. Only a small part of it. Still, it was more than he had ever told anyone, even his father. All Susie knew about it was his mom was dead.

      
He wasn’t sure if he could bear Elaine finding out the other part. And there were other reasons. Like Dr. Eli Woodcock. Years ago, he was seeing him in Cambridge and after six months of pressing he submitted to Woodcock’s requests and allowed himself to be hypnotized. Afterwards Woodcock dropped him without explanation. He refused to say a single word about it. He didn’t need to, though; the look on his face told the story.