Song of the Blackbird (Albatross Prison #1) (18 page)

“I’m spending time with the other inmates.” Charles slid his chair back and crossed one leg over the other at the knee. “They’re easy, not complicated. Morris is my most complicated guy. He developed PTSD recently. I think we can help him by tackling it now and not waiting until his symptoms are more entrenched. It’ll only be nine to twelve sessions and I bet he’ll get better.”

“They’re fifty-minute sessions,” Dr. Samuels interjected. “It’s too much time.”

“Right. Time that can be spent with your other patients.” Kaye slammed her clipboard down. “I don’t want you to do it.”

“What if I stay late, do it on my own time?” Charles asked.

Emma could have kissed the man, so stunned was she by his response. “You’d do that for him? Spend your own time to help an inmate?”

“Why not?” He flashed her his devilish smile. “I’ve always loved a challenge.”

“That’s wonderful.” Emma readily returned his smile. Her worries about Maxim seemed trivial compared to this. So she made an embarrassing pass at her boss. No big deal. Maxim seemed to be moving beyond it just fine. There he was, writing things in his notepad.
Was he even paying attention to the meeting? It didn’t really matter, did it?
All that mattered was Sam. She should get over herself and her hang-up with the warden.

Her brother had been suffering, and Emma hadn’t even had a clue. She needed to help him and CPT seemed promising. A sudden idea came to her, a brilliant one if she had to say so herself. She couldn’t wait to test it out. It made sense and would be the perfect solution. Couldn’t she be there during the CPT sessions? It’d let her spend more time with Sam and she didn’t need Smith because Charles would be with her. Maybe she could convince Charles to leave them alone during a session or two, giving her some much-needed alone time with her brother.

“Suit yourself,” Kaye was saying, frowning at her ex. “But I expect all the other patients to be seen in a timely manner. No slacking off on the others just to help Morris.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am.” Charles saluted. He winked at Emma on the side.

The guy was a lifesaver. As soon as the meeting disbanded, she followed him out. Maxim and Evil Knievel were both glaring at the psychiatrist for no particular reason that she could see. He was doing it free of charge on his own time.
How much more generous can the man get?

“Charles,” Emma called as he was about to exit. “Can I talk with you for a few minutes?”

“Sure. It’d be my pleasure.” He gave her a suave smile, looking incredibly handsome. He was like a model on a magazine cover, good to look at but too handsome to date. “So what can I do for you, Angel?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.

“Those CPT sessions,” she said as the door swung shut after them. “Do you think I can join you guys?”

“You mean with Morris?” His eyebrows lifted. “I don’t think so. It’s usually very personal. He probably won’t want anyone else there.”

“Well, if he’s okay with me being there, can I be there?”
Sam better not put up a fight. She was doing this for his own good.

“Sure, if he agrees. Although I’m not sure why you want to attend. It’s very structured and boring if you’re the observer.”

They began their walk down the hill. And there was Phineas sitting on his usual branch. It was as if he’d been waiting for her to come out to share her good news with him. And it was indeed good news. Charles was going to let her attend the sessions. She could hardly wait to tell Sam.

“It’s a tricolored blackbird,” Charles announced, stopping dead in his tracks. “I haven’t seen one in ages. He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”
Amazing. He’d not only noticed the bird but known exactly what type it was.
“How do you know it’s him?”

“My father and I used to go bird-watching together,” he said, a faraway look in his eyes. “That was his favorite bird.”

“It’s my brother’s favorite, too.” Emma felt a sudden kinship with the man. “We used to go bird-watching together all the time.”

“Your brother?” Charles’s eyes homed in on her face. “He likes birds?”

“Yes, since he was a little kid. I told him about Phineas a few days ago, and he got all excited.”

“Phineas?” Charles quirked an eyebrow.

“Yes, the blackbird.” She gave a self-conscious shrug. “I had to name him something.”

“You sure did.” Charles let out a rich laugh as they ambled down the hill together. “I think it’s a beautiful name, very proud and lofty.”

“Thanks.” She was liking the psychiatrist more by the minute. “So your father liked blackbirds, too?”

“Yes, a long time ago.” Charles pulled at his tie. “He suffered from PTSD from the Korean War. Seemed like watching birds soothed him whenever he was feeling low.”

“Is that how you got interested in CPT?” Emma asked, marveling at the similarity between Sam and Charles’s father.

“Yes. It worked for him really well. I think Morris would benefit.” He cast her a funny look. “Mind if I ask how come you’re so interested in his care?”

Emma stumbled and forced out a nonchalant look. “He’s my porter.”

“I see. And you’re interested in all your porters?”

“No.” She tried to think of anything that might throw him off. “He helped me that day when I was attacked.”

“Oh, Jesus.” Charles touched her arm. “I forgot to ask you about that. How are you doing?”

“Okay.” With all that’d happened, she hadn’t thought about the attack in days. It seemed like months ago, not just last week. “Maxim assigned an officer to be with me when I see patients now.”

“Maxim, huh?” Charles gave her a keen look. “Is there anything going on between you two?”

“What? No. Why do you ask?”
How did he suspect? Had she given out some inadvertent clue?

“He kept staring at you during the meeting,” Charles continued. “And when we were talking, I thought he was going to come over and rip me apart.”

Emma let out a nervous laugh. “Because he didn’t like the CPT idea.”

“Maybe. But be careful, Emma. I wouldn’t get involved with him if I were you.”

“I’m not.”
He’d made that plenty clear last night. “
But why the warning? He seems pretty decent.”

“Hah!” Charles scoffed. “The guy has no heart. He dated my ex for a while and then dumped her without any explanations.”

“You mean Dr. Kaye?”
That certainly left a sour taste in her mouth.

“Yes. She’s been mooning after him ever since.” Charles sighed. “He can be downright cruel. I don’t know why she’s still into him.”

“Have you talked to her about it?”

“Not really. We didn’t part on friendly terms.” Charles grimaced. “The divorce was pretty nasty.”

So Maxim and Kaye had dated.
Was he still interested in Kaye?
It wouldn’t surprise her.
The CMO was tall and gorgeous with the perfect hourglass body. Was that why Maxim had been horrified when she’d thrown herself at him? She wasn’t his type at all, if Kaye was the typical woman he dated.
Not that it mattered.
From now on, she was going to focus on her brother and stay as far away from the warden as possible.

Chapter 20

“That should be it,” Madison said as she discharged the last patient later that afternoon. “Long day, huh, Doc?”

Emma rubbed her eyes. Yes, it’d definitely been a long day. Urgent Care had rushed by with patient after patient, most complaining of viral symptoms. But she also took care of some serious cases including an abdominal pain she had to send out. For lunch, she swallowed down a granola bar before several fights broke out among the Unit 3 patients and she had to tend to their injuries. Another lockdown was enforced, which elicited more grumbling among the inmates.

“Yes, the fights kept us busy.” Emma stretched her shoulders. “Do they happen that often?”

“Here and there. Usually after being locked down for a while, little things set them off,” Madison said. “Too many lockdowns drive them wild. They have to act out somehow.”

“That’s horrible.” Especially since this time the lockdown included all the porters, too. She hadn’t seen Sam all day. Hopefully he was okay. Sergeant Peterson had informed her only dorm 305 fought so at least she knew his dorm was spared. Still, it would’ve been nice to ascertain for herself that he was unhurt. Plus, she needed to discuss the CPT sessions with him.

And on top of all that, she’d spotted from a distance Maxim and his minions passing through the OHU a couple of times earlier in the day. He had ignored her, which was perfect for her plan of staying away from him.
But did he have to dismiss her so easily?

Emma glanced at her watch, ready for the day to end.
Five o’clock already.
Smith came up and shook her hand, his usually friendly face sad for some reason. He’d been silent all day, acting even a bit surly sometimes.

“Is something wrong?” Emma asked as she took off her white coat.

“Today’s my last day,” he said. “I’m being transferred to RJD.”

“But why? You’ve been here for years, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but…” He cleared his throat. “My brother recently got transferred here from Solano. He’s an inmate.”

“Oh.” Emma’s breath came out in a whoosh.
Poor Smith.
All this time, he’d been in a similar boat as she was. “So they’re forcing you to go?”

“Yes. Mr. Chambers is real strict about these things. As soon as he found out that Vic was here, he made arrangements to send me away.”

“But you worked for him for so long.”

“Believe me, the warden never lets emotion get in the way.” Smith gave a defeatist shrug. “He follows the rules, no matter what. Lucky Vic paroles in six months. I’ll be transferred back here before you know it.”

“Where’s RJD?”

“In San Diego. I’ll commute for now and see how it goes.” He shook her hand. “I wanted to say I really enjoyed working with you, Doctor. Gonzalez will take good care of you.”

“Gonzalez? So I get another guard?”
So Maxim hadn’t dismissed her entirely after all.

“Of course.” Smith smiled. “Mr. Chambers made sure I had a replacement before letting me go. Luckily Gonzalez was unassigned and he’s one of our best officers, too. You’ll be in good hands.”

“Thanks.”

“No. Thank you.” Smith patted her shoulder. “It’s obvious you care about your patients and that you don’t think of them as inmates. That’s really nice to see.”

Emma gave him a quick hug before he left. She was going to miss him. He’d been her shadow for the past week, always there if she needed him. Hopefully she’d see him back by next summer. How could Maxim have dismissed him so easily? Clearly, he was a stickler for the rules. Thank goodness she hadn’t told him about Sam.

“Emma.” Charles stood at the doorway, looking at her with an odd expression. “I’m glad you haven’t left yet. Can we talk?”

“Sure.” Emma waved good-bye to Madison and gathered her things together. “What’s up?” she asked as she joined the psychiatrist. It was dark outside and beginning to rain slightly. She took in a deep breath.
Aah.
She’d always loved the smell of the rain, especially when it first came down. Charles held out an umbrella and ushered her underneath the awning of the mental health building. He seemed preoccupied with something, unlike his usual jovial, charming self.

“Is everything okay?” Emma checked her watch. With the rain, traffic was going to be a killer. She wouldn’t make it home until seven at the earliest.

“I want to talk to you about Morris.”

“Morris?” she asked, her heart thumping a little harder.

“Yes.” Charles scanned the deserted area before leaning in toward her. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

Goose bumps popped up on Emma’s arms. “What do you mean?”

“I reviewed Morris’s file today.”

“And?”
Why didn’t he just spit it out if he already knew?
She reached for her pendant.

“There were some notes from our earlier sessions.” Charles’s eyes bored into hers. “One of them said he loved blackbirds, that his sister and he used to go bird-watching.”

Emma’s breath stilled. “So? A lot of people like blackbirds. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Come on, Emma, trust me.” Charles put a hand on her shoulder. “I know Morris is half white, that he has a white sister who’s a doctor. He told me during one of our sessions.”

Emma bit her lip and pulled on her pendant.
Dear God. He knew!
And she couldn’t prevent him from alerting Custody. By this time tomorrow, she may be on her way to a different prison, just like Smith. Tears pricked behind Emma’s eyes. “Please don’t tell anybody,” she whispered.

“Never, I swear it.” For once, the psychiatrist’s handsome face was solemn and earnest. “Do you want to talk about it? It must be hard having him here.”

“No. I mean it’s not hard.”
Hopefully he was a man of his word and wouldn’t reveal her secret.
“I came here because of him.”

“You’re not planning on leaving with him, are you?” Charles asked half-jokingly.

“No. I only want to spend more time with him. It was so hard getting to visit him only once or twice a month the past few years. I missed him.” She swallowed down the lump in her throat. “I get to see him almost every day now. Even though I can’t help much, at least I can still see him.”

“I understand. Come on, Emma. Don’t look so sad. I promise I won’t tell anyone. You’ll still be able to see him.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course,” he said gently. “Actually, that’s why I got you in the first place. Your brother’s in my office right now for a CPT session. Want to join us?”

“Really?” Emma couldn’t believe her luck. “He’s there? Now? But it’s way past clinic time.”

“I know but that’s the only time I had open. Come on. I think he wants to see you.”

A steady bubble of hope blossomed as Charles led her into the mental health building and down a long corridor. All the office doors were closed except for the last one on the right. It was partially shut. Charles pushed it open. Inside Sam was eating an apple, sitting across from a desk and swinging his legs.

“Dr. Edwards.” Her brother hastily put down the apple.

“Sam, it’s okay.” Emma rushed to his side. “Dr. Stewart knows about us, and he’s going to try to help.”

“Why did you tell him?” Sam rubbed his forehead, his eyes wide with anxiety. “Now you’re going to get in trouble. All because of me.”

“Relax.” Charles raised his hand. “I’m not going to tell anybody. Your secret’s safe with me. I promise.”

“Yeah. Right.” A haunted look came over Sam’s face. “What’s in it for you?”

“Nothing. You’re my patient.” Charles touched Sam’s shoulder. “I want you to get better. That’s all. And I want to help your sister. You know she loves you very much.”

“I know.” Sam’s lips trembled and he let out a moan. “I’m sorry, Em. I wish I could be a better brother for you.”

Emma pulled him close. “You’re a great brother,” she whispered against his chest. “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Charles exited the room and Emma let out a long breath. At last, they were finally alone. No guard, no other staff around. She made Sam sit with her on the most readily available seat, an old sofa pressed against the wall to the right side of the desk. They spent the next hour catching up on everything she could think of. He told her about how hard prison life was, especially when he’d been in the hole.

“How come you were sent to the hole?”
Please answer me.

“You won’t understand.” The same haunted expression returned to his eyes. “I don’t want to tell you, Em. Can we leave it?”

“No.”
Definitely not.
“Dr. Stewart says you’re not doing well. You’re having panic attacks and seeing things and scared all the time. What’s going on? It must be related to the hole. You were fine before you left.”

Sam hunched over and buried his face in his hands.

Emma gingerly wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “Please, I want to help you.”

“Okay.” Sam let out a long, frustrated sigh. “But first I want to make sure nobody’s around.” He went to the door, opened it, looked up and down the hallway and shut it again. “You can’t tell anybody, promise. Even Dr. Stewart.”

“He’s your doctor. Maybe he can help.”

“Promise!” Sam’s forehead beaded with sweat and his eyes darted back to the door.

“All right. Jeez, Sam, calm down. It’s okay. I won’t tell anybody.”

He paced around the desk, gazed out the window, and then turned back to her. “You’re right. Before the hole, I was pretty happy. Prison was bad but routine. And I had a friend, Peter. Besides for my bunkie, Peter was the only one I was close to.” He paused and swallowed. “He was a little slow but nice, you know? He followed me everywhere. First timer like me. We hung out and became friends. He loved to play handball. And when his mom sent these huge packages, he shared them with me. Food, chips, books, anything. He had some developmental delay so a lot of the guys made fun of him, called him a retard and nasty stuff.”

“I’m glad you’re his friend.”

“Not anymore.” Sam threw himself on the sofa and slammed his fist on a cushion. “He died. He got murdered.”

“What?”

“Yes. It was all my fault.” Sam buried his face in his hands again. “Please don’t make me talk about it, Em. I can’t. I can’t. Oh God! Make it stop!” He curled himself into a little ball on the sofa, his body trembling from head to toe.

Her poor brother. Was this his typical panic attack?
“Sam. It’s okay. Please, Sam, stop. It’s okay. I’m here.” She crouched down to hug him and accidentally knocked a book off the table. It crashed to the floor, making a loud slapping sound.

Sam catapulted out of the sofa and started screaming at the top of his lungs. “Stop it! Go away! You’re hurting me!”

“Jesus. Sam, calm down.” Emma reached out a hand, but he flung her arm away, all the while screeching at her to leave him alone.

Emma’s heart thudded a mile a minute as she ran out to get help.

“Oh my God, Charles. Help! Something happened. He’s screaming. I can’t make him stop.” She collided with Charles and dragged him into the room.

Sam was sitting curled up in one corner with his head between his legs, his hands over his ears, moaning incoherently.

“Sam, it’s okay. It’s Dr. Stewart,” Charles said softly. He shook his head at Emma. “Remember our breathing exercises. Keep your mouth closed. Take a deep breath through your nose. Yes, that’s it. Hold it. Now release it through your mouth. Do it again. It’s okay. No one is going to hurt you. Breathe again. Yes, just like that. Keep breathing.”

Luckily, Sam calmed down enough to make his way back onto the sofa. His eyes were bloodshot and tear-stained, and he looked like he’d woken up from a deep stupor. Emma stood frozen by the sofa, scared one wrong move on her part might trigger the agonizing outburst again. She glanced over helplessly at Charles. Thank goodness the psychiatrist seemed to know what to do.

“Are you all right?” Charles handed Sam some tissues and sat down next to him on the sofa. “That was another panic attack. Nobody’s going to hurt you. Try to relax and do the deep breathing again.”

Sam took several deep breaths. His lips quivered as he turned her way. “Sorry, Em. That was a pretty bad one, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. But I’m sure we can help.”
She’d be willing to do anything.
“You’re going to get better. Isn’t that right, Dr. Stewart?”

“Yes.” Charles clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I know you feel bad right now. The meds haven’t worked. We’re going to try something new. It’s called cognitive processing therapy, or CPT.”

Sam looked up, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “You think it can help me?”

“I think so but it’s a lot of work. We have to meet every week, sometimes twice a week, at least an hour each time. I’ll assign you homework. Exercises you have to do.” Charles squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “Are you game?”

“Of course.” Sam sat up straighter. “I’m sick of the flashbacks and nightmares.”

“Flashbacks to what?”

“He’ll tell us when he’s ready.” Charles shot her a warning look.