With Every Breath (6 page)

off. I know he’ll come back. If not later today, then maybe tomorrow."

Josh looked at her accusingly. Well, she thought, that was progress, too.

"Why don’t you get your coat?" she prompted. "We’ll drive down to the big island now, so we’ll be home in plenty of time in case Angus comes back today."

When Maddie had gathered her own coat and returned to the living room, Josh was already bundled up and waiting by the door. This time when they got in the car, she decided to take the long way around the . . . what did everyone call it? The Wick. Instead of turning right, which would have taken her up the rocky crest to the bridge on the other side of it, she turned left.

A few minutes later, she was astounded.

There were the most magnificent homes on the west side of the little island. They were towering places of cedar and glass, with still-emerald lawns behind privacy fences. She’d been preoccupied yesterday, following Cassie Diehl’s directions, and she hadn’t even glanced that way.

In a few more minutes, she realized with a rush of relief that she really did remember more of Candle Island than she had first thought. She drove directly to the post office without conscious consideration, and, sure enough, there was a pay phone outside.

The kiosk was only ten yards from the curb. She locked Josh in the car. She shoveled change in without taking her eyes off the Volvo. When Josh looked back at her, she waved.

She called the phone company first, and discovered that she would, indeed, have to take the ferry all the way back to Jonesport to pick up a telephone. A technician would make the trip for seventy-five dollars. The

ferry fare, on the other hand, was twelve dollars, and her own time wasn’t worth much these days since she’d lost her pictures.

She ran her finger down another page of the phone directory, looking for a doctor. Out of the comer of her eye, she saw a white Pathfinder approaching up the side street.

It slowed to a stop. The window slid down, and the man who had been in the real estate office looked out at her.

"Everything okay?" he called.

Maddie read the police insignia on the door and realized he must be a cop.

She looked sharply in Josh’s direction again to see what effect the police car might have on him. But the Pathfinder was just different enough from the usual police vehicle that it didn’t seem to get a reaction. Also, Joe wasn’t dressed in uniform, at least not so far as she could see. He hadn’t been yesterday, either.

"I . . . yes. Yes, of c-course." She was nervous again, Maddie realized. She swallowed carefully. "I needed to use the telephone."

"Did you call to get one installed at the house?" "That’s wh-what I was just doing. Yes. I’m going to run over and pick up a phone this afternoon."

"Nope, you’re not."

"I’m not?"

"Ferry’s down."

As much as he made her nervous, Maddie found herself closing the distance between them to continue the conversation without shouting. She shot a quick look at Josh and the Volvo to make sure he was okay.

"Does that happen often?" she asked.

"Yeah, unfortunately, the older Harry gets."

"I d-don’t understand."

"He’s getting goofy. Forgets things. He loses the keys to the ferry’s ignition periodically. Must be senility."

She smiled briefly. "So what’s Cassie Diehl’s excuse?"

For a moment, he wondered if she was talking about the house Cassie had rented her. Then he realized that her expression was too mild and amused for that to be the case.

He shook his head. "Don’t take her personally. She hates everybody. Or at least she tries to stir everybody up, just on general principle."

Maddie nodded mutely, still surprised that he was taking the time to talk to her. He hadn’t seemed like a man to waste words yesterday.

Then, suddenly, he grinned again. His hard features softened. When he did that, he was handsome, she realized. He was catch-your-breath, drop-dead good-looking. Suddenly her unwieldy tongue seemed to fill her whole mouth.

"I’m not dangerous, you know," he went on almost chidingly, and Maddie flushed when she realized that she was staring at him. "I’m sure as hell nothing to get uptight about." He pointed down at the police department insignia. "Matter of fact, I’m one of the good guys."

"I. .. yes, I saw that."

"Then again," he went on, his grin fading, "I guess that depends on who you’re talking to." He gunned the engine and moved off onto the main street without another word.

Maddie looked after the Pathfinder, bemused. For the first time in a long while, she realized that she was itching for her camera. She’d love to photograph his eyes. Just his eyes, she thought, fading out the rest of his features. The image that brought to mind made her shiver slightly.

She finally went back to the phone booth and actually found a psychologist right on the island. She punched in the number, and the phone was picked up on the second ring.

"Leslie Mendehlson," a smooth voice answered. If she had thought about it, Maddie realized that she should have guessed a psychologist wouldn’t be So busy on Candle that she’d either need or could afford a receptionist.

"Hi," she began. "My name is Madeline Brogan and I—"

"Maddie!"

Instantly, without warning, her heart thundered.

She knew her, Maddie realized, from before.
Leslie Mendehlson?
The name didn’t ring any bells. She could understand not remembering an acquaintance. She wouldn’t have expected to. But this woman’s tone was friendly, warm, closer than that.

"I’m
so
glad you got in touch," the woman went on.

"Actually I ... I’m c-calling for professional reasons." Then she realized how that must sound, given her past. "I wanted to talk to you about my little boy."

The woman’s laugh was musical. "I didn’t think it was about you. You seem to be talking just fine now."

Sort of, Maddie thought. Not quite.

She felt as though the sidewalk shifted beneath her feet. She definitely knew this woman—or she should have.

"I am," she managed. "I’m fine."

"And probably wondering how good I am if I’m still working on Candle Island, right?" Leslie Mendehlson laughed without rancor. "Actually, I’m in Jonesport three days a week now, then I come back here on Thursday and Friday and the weekends. Not, mind you, that there aren’t several people on the island who could

use psychological help." She laughed again. "It’s just that very few of them are willing to admit it."

Maddie recovered a little. The woman’s candor made it easier. "I think I’ve met a few of those," she admitted.

"Cassie Diehl comes to mind, and you even ran into her mother at the market, or so I hear. Now
there’s
a real Welcome Wagon."

Maddie remembered the dour woman in the grocery store and managed to laugh outright. She wasn’t at all surprised to find out that she was Cassie Diehl’s mother.

"Angus, too," Maddie supplied. "And Gina Gallen. She stopped by my rental house this morning."

"Ah, yes. Gina should definitely still be seeing me. Unfortunately, she’s given me a pretty wide berth since the court let her off the hook."

The court?
Maddie was both curious and appalled. Apparently, even the island psychologist wasn’t very reticent.

Leslie Mendehlson seemed to realize her breach of ethics. She changed the subject quickly. "Why don’t you come in now? Bring your little boy and we’ll get reacquainted. I’ve nothing on my schedule until two-thirty. I’m still in the same place, right behind the diner."

"That would be fine."

Maddie hung up. She remembered seeing the diner yesterday. She was reasonably sure she could find Leslie Mendehlson’s office. There would probably be a sign or some such thing. But just to be on the safe side, she checked the address in the phone book.

The office turned out to be a thrusting appendage stuck to the back of a square, gray, two-story building. An alley ran between it and the diner. When the woman opened the door, Maddie realized with a shimmy of gratified surprise that she did remember her.

Nothing was abnormal about her memory. Nothing at all.

Leslie Mendehlson was a rangy woman of indiscriminate age, tall enough that Maddie had to look up at her, and she wasn’t short. She wore tight, close-cropped curls and wire-rimmed glasses that seemed too small for her big face. Her smile was sincere, and Maddie sighed unconsciously, letting herself be hugged.

"It really is good to see you again," Dr. Mendehlson said.

Maddie nodded and eased away from her. "Thanks. This is Josh."

Leslie Mendehlson looked down at him. "Hello, young man. It’s good to meet you as well."

To the woman’s credit, Maddie thought, she showed no outward reaction when Josh failed to answer.

Dr. Mendehlson ushered them inside. There was a toy box in the waiting room, and she set about finding something that Josh might consider interesting. She bypassed some dolls, then a few busy-toddler contraptions, before she settled on a battery-powered robot.

"Have a go at it, Josh," she said. "Your mom and I will be right in that room over there."

Maddie followed the doctor into the inner office. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing, but I always try to converse with him as though he’ll answer me. I remember being so frustrated when people ignored me."

The woman sat at her desk and waved Maddie into a chair. "Just out of curiosity, what finally brought you around? Did your aunt continue your therapy in Florida?"

Maddie smiled fleetingly. "No. She gave me an old camera."

"I beg your pardon?"

Maddie lifted her hands and mimed snapping pictures. "I was able to communicate through the pictures, to say things. Then one day the words just sort of fell into place again, too."

Dr. Mendehlson nodded and smiled. "You kept at it, obviously. From all accounts, you’re very talented." Maddie was surprised, flattered, then uncomfortable talking about herself. "Unfortunately, Josh doesn’t seem to share my fascination with photography," she answered. Then she blurted, "Is the silence hereditary?" That, she thought, was the biggest source of her gnawing guilt. Not only had she allowed Rick to nearly take Josh, but she’d passed on her own instinctive response to trauma. She watched Dr. Mendehlson tilt her head to the side.

"I would have to say so," she agreed after a thoughtful moment, "if only in the respect that intelligence is largely hereditary. I’ve done a good bit of reading on the subject over the years. I admit your problem fascinated me. And it seems to occur predominantly in intelligent, creative children. Maddie, you’d be amazed at how truly little modem science knows about the physiology of the human brain. The function and responsibility of better than half of our gray matter is still a mystery to us. What does this portion do? What happens if we cut out that lump there? For obvious reasons, it’s difficult to learn that sort of thing from a cadaver."

Maddie nodded, surprised. "Of course. I hadn’t thought of that."

"We can remove all sorts of things from an inert body, and get no reaction at all. At least, we devoutly hope we don’t."

Maddie smiled weakly.

"Largely we’re left with instances like you and Josh, and we try to learn what we can from them. I have to

tell you, I find this extremely interesting, that your son has developed the same self-protective reflex. What started it for him?"

Maddie looked out the office’s glass window into the waiting room. Josh was playing intently with the robot. "His father."

She glanced back in time to think that Dr. Mendehlson looked almost unduly intrigued. "And where is your husband now?" she asked.

"Ex-husband," Maddie said shortly. "And your guess is as good as mine."

This time Dr. Mendehlson’s brows very definitely went up. "I think you’d better start at the beginning." Maddie ran a hand through her hair in a gesture almost as nerve-ridden as her unruly tongue. "Rick was ... a control freak," she began. "He’d been in the service at one point, and everything around our house had to be square, tight, perfect. He’d scream at Josh if the poor kid bumped into a table and set it slightly askew. He’d spit-shine everything, and when he was done, he literally didn’t want us to move for fear of messing things up." Maddie ran her tongue along her lower lip, thinking. "It got to the point where I knew Josh and I had to leave. It got to the point where Rick’s behavior was more detrimental to him than our separation might be.

"There were other things, of course, but the cleaning is the best example. He wanted me to stop working, too. Well, actually, he wanted me to work, to take my pictures, but only right there around the house. He didn’t want to give up my income, of course."

"That’s unrealistic," Dr. Mendehlson murmured.

"A bit," Maddie agreed, sarcastically. "Anyway, I finally left and filed for divorce. And then he started . . . following me. But I could never actually prove that he was stalking me."

"Florida is one of the states with a law against that," Leslie Mendehlson said.

Maddie nodded. "But Rick and I sort of fell into a gray area. Everywhere he’d turn up was a place he had every right or reason to be. It was just frequent enough to be eerie, not frequent enough that the authorities would take me seriously. And until that point, he’d never physically harmed us, so I had no grounds for a restraining order."

"Did
he hurt Josh eventually?"

Maddie winced and forced herself to breathe when the air wanted to get caught in her tightening throat again. "No. To my knowledge, he never actually laid a hand on Josh. It was ... a stranger."

"He hurt a stranger?" Leslie Mendehlson clarified. Maddie dragged breath in. "He killed
a stranger. Rick killed a police officer. Josh was with him. And he hasn’t said a blessed w-word since."

And that was very interesting, Leslie Mendehlson thought. She sorted through it, making comparisons. A beloved authority figure fatally molesting another authority figure; it was the same premise as one’s father killing one’s mother.

"Go on," she urged. "Please."

"When I filed for divorce, I fought Rick for custody with everything I had," Maddie explained. "But he still got some visitation. It ended up that he got to take Josh every Saturday, and every other week he kept him overnight and returned him to me on Sunday afternoon. But then one week he called and said he wanted to see him on Friday and Saturday. He said that he wanted to take him to a Marlins game on Friday night." Maddie took a deep breath. "By some fluke, I noticed in the paper that the Marlins were playing in Atlanta that night. I read it just about five minutes after Rick picked Josh up. It wasn’t a home game."

Something cold slid down her spine all over again at the breath-robbing horror that had hit her in that moment of understanding.
Josh was in danger.
She had known it instinctively. It had been a miracle, an absolute miracle, that there had been anything she could do, or that she had even realized that something was wrong in the first place. She wasn’t a sports fan. Rick had gambled on that. She had just sat down with the newspaper and a cup of coffee because . . . well, because. And there it was, Marlins coverage on the first page of the sports section, with a little window giving the details of the game that night.

If Rick hadn’t chosen that particular lie, if he had kept his visitation to its usual routine, she never would have known that anything was amiss until it was too late. But at least a cop would still be alive.

"The police wouldn’t help at first," she went on, her voice becoming vaguely strangled again. "They said I must have misunderstood. I knew I hadn’t. So ... I lied. I told them Rick had taken Josh against my wishes and against the custody order. I had to do something, had to make them move fast. I told them that he’d struck me and forced Josh into his car. I didn’t know ... it was spooky, a coincidence, that he really
did
have a gun on him. Or maybe not. He was so ... so gung-ho military.

"The authorities put an APB out on his car, and two of their officers pulled him over. Rick was going to run with Josh. They found suitcases in the car, and there were two plane tickets to Nassau in one of them." Her hand went up again. Her fingers tunneled through her hair. "Anyway, when the first cop ordered him to get out of the car, Rick did. But then he fired, and the cop went down. By some miracle—" Another miracle, she thought. So many of them. "—it was the police car that Rick took off in. He was closer to it. He panicked