Me, Myself and Why? Read online

“They were delicious.”

  “I don’t like where this is going one bit. I can’t see my brother as a wooing-lover type. I prefer him as a distant millionaire who uncomplainingly supports my parents and stays the hell out of my way.”

  “Mmmm?”

  “And now he’s moving here!”

  “Yup.”

  “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “I need lunch if I’m going to have the energy to stop the bad guy. I gotta go.”

  “I hate you.” She didn’t sound convinced, or convincing. “Killer on the loose? You’re the killer on the loose. You keep those legs closed until you put a ring on my brother’s finger. Make him an honest man.”

  “If you don’t stop talking, I’m going to videotape our first time and send it to you. That’ll send you back to MIMH.”

  I heard the unmistakable sound of a raspberry and then she was off the line.

  Chapter Eighty

  When I got back from lunch I got word to go straight to Dr. Nessman’s office. So much for my perfect day. I supposed I knew what was coming and had to admit I wasn’t looking forward to it. Not least because the good doctor was right. He had been proven right all week.

  His assistant, Karen, was on the phone and waved me in. I tried to brace myself for the pony onslaught, rapped lightly, and walked in.

  “Hello, Cadence.”

  Ponies. Ponies everywhere. Posters. Pictures. Horse head bookends. And a horseshoe nailed to the top of the doorway! (Dr. Nessman thought it was lucky, which just goes to show that psychiatrists are perfectly capable of going crazy right along with their patients.)

  “Hi, Dr. Nessman.”

  “Hello. I don’t suppose they’ve found Special Agent Pinkman yet?”

  “Not yet.” I plunked down into the chair opposite him. “The guy knows our tactics, so it may take a while.”

  Dr. Nessman shook his head, smiling a little. “And you know his tactics. No, with you on the case, I wouldn’t want to be

  George Pinkman right now.”

  “No. You wouldn’t.”

  “Fair enough.” Nessman stared down at what I assumed was my file, or possibly the Chicago Yellow Pages. “Cadence, let’s talk about all the shifting.”

  Shifting. Losing time. Coming forward. Going back. All words that meant the same thing: Shiro and Adrienne were coming out much more often, and I had no control at all. Not that I ever did.

  “Okay,” I said, except it wasn’t. “What about it?”

  “I think the longer you resist facing what happened to you as a child, the more difficult it will be for you to get well.”

  “But I won’t be well at all. I’ll just be an amalgam of Shiro and Adrienne and me. You can’t have it both ways, right?”

  “As I said in our earlier session,” he said quietly, looking at me over the top of his glasses, “you were once a whole person. The state you are in now is a direct result of unendurable, inescapable stress placed on you during your formative years.”

  “Dr. Nessman, I know all this.”

  “And you’re quite right. If you can ever be a whole person again, there would be a blending. But consider the alternative—what if Shiro dedides to become the dominant personality? Or Adrienne? They both have the power to shunt you aside and drive your body wherever they wish. What if they put you aside permanently?”

  “They wouldn’t, though,” I said, shifting uneasily.

  “To save themselves? To put you out of their way? Of course they would.”

  “Dr. Nessman, I’ve kind of got a lot on my plate right now.

  Can’t we talk about this another time?”

  “Cadence. Avoiding the discussion won’t make the issue itself go away.”

  “I’ll bet you got that from a fortune cookie.”

  “Teasing me won’t work, either.”

  Maybe Tasering? I squirmed in my chair, feeling cornered. Dr. Nessman had the patience of a rock, so I couldn’t outwait him. And he reported directly to Michaela, which meant he could recommend my suspension or even my termination, and chances were high that Michaela would take his advice. Well, on suspension, anyway. And I needed the money if I was going to buy a digital videocamera capable of holding and editing enough “brotherly love” sex scenes to send Cathie back to MIMH.

  I was a worm on a hook, all right. And I could see that the only way to get out of this was to make a concession.

  “You want to play Let’s Make a Deal?”

  Nessman arched an eyebrow at me. “What did you have in mind?”

  “We can talk about my parents right now. We can talk about them every session for the next month if you want. The next six months. But then you have to shelve this whole integration thing for the same six months.”

  “Done,” Dr. Nessman said so quickly that I cursed under my breath. Clearly, I had lowballed myself.

  Chapter Eighty-one

  “All right, Cadence, you’re feeling relaxed. You’re not sleepy; you’re quite aware of what’s going on. You’re watching the light and you can hear me very well. Watching the light. All of your concentration is fixed on my voice and on the light. It’s very calm and restful. Watching the light.

  “Now we’re going back, Cadence. We’re going back but we won’t really be there. We’re just looking at the last time you saw your mother and father. But we’re safe, Cadence. What we’re seeing can’t hurt us. It’s like you’re watching a movie. You can report what’s happening while being in no danger at all.

  “From your house, you can see the grounds of the hospital where you were born. The big rolling grass hills. The hospital itself. You are three. Your father is doing his best to take care of you. You live with him in the small red house on the west edge of the property that is his home as the custodian.”

  “He’s mean.”

  “Yes. But he can’t hurt you. Any of you. You’re just watching a movie, Cadence.”

  “Mama’s here.”

  “Wait for me, Cadence. Yes. Your mother is there. She’s a patient. As we watch the film you remember that your father almost went to jail when the hospital administration realized your mother was pregnant by him.”

  “He was mean. He made her.”

  “Yes. But once you were born your mother adored you. She never blamed you for the details of your conception. By your first birthday she was very happy that she could see you every day.”

  “He tricked them.”

  “Yes, he did. He managed to fool almost everyone—he fooled them into thinking he could be a good man and a good father.”

  “But not Mama.”

  “No. Your mother never quite trusted him after you were conceived, but she was willing to set that aside to visit you.”

  “She’s not taking the medicine.”

  “That’s right, Cadence. She thought she could be a better mother if she went off her meds. She wanted to keep a close eye on your father. And your mother was a veteran of state hospitals. She knew how to make the staff think she was taking her meds. She was very, very smart and she was happy to risk her health and her sanity and her life if she thought it would make her a better mother.

  “Cadence, it’s the day after your third birthday. The date is September 20, and the hospital grounds are covered with—”

  “Rainbow leaves.”

  “Yes, there are beautiful leaves all over the grounds. It’s your father’s job to clean them up. He’s—”

  “No.”

  “We’re just watching a movie. Nothing can hurt you while we watch the movie.

  “Now your mother comes to the small red house you share with your father; she is bringing a small—”

  “It’s pink.”

  “Yes, a small cake with pink frosting. She’s bringing it to you but your father is angry.”

  “He forgot. He was mad because he forgot my birthday, but she remembered.”

  “Yes. And that’s when the geese come.”

  “No it’s not.”

  “Yes, Cadenc
e. It’s autumn and they’re fattening themselves up for the long flight south. They are beautiful Canada geese. There are dozens roaming all over the grounds. They are nearly tame; you can walk right up to them and feed them.”

  “He’s mad. But he’s pretending he’s not. He’s pretending to make a joke.”

  “That’s right. And as your mother approaches—”

  “Don’t come over here, Mama!”

  “Shhhh, shhhh, we’re just watching. Your mother is coming and your father swerves his small tractor lawn mower. But he isn’t aiming for your mother, he’s—”

  “The goose.”

  “That’s right. And you can hear what he’s saying. He’s saying—”

  “Watch this.”

  “Yes. And the goose doesn’t have enough time to fly away. So—”

  “He runned it over! It couldn’t get away and he runned right over it! And I’m—”

  “You’re not there, Cadence. You are a grown woman, not that toddler. You’re only watching what the three-year-old is doing.”

  “—screaming, I’m screaming and Mama’s screaming oh she’s so mad.”

  “Yes. She saw your father scare the three-year-old on purpose. She has been off her meds for over a month. She is angry at the terror she sees on her child’s face. She—”

  “The cake. Pink. It’s pink.”

  “Yes. She throws the cake at him. He tries to duck and one of his hands leaves the wheel. He’s off balance.”

  “Mama knocked him down.”

  “That’s right. She was able to surprise him, and knock him off the small tractor. And then, in an attempt to protect you and avenge herself, she—”

  “She runned over him. Like he runned over the goose. Stop screaming! Nobody can think if you don’t stop screaming!”

  “You’re not screaming, Cadence. You’re watching. You’re seeing your father injured at first.”

  “Just his arm, the first time.”

  “Did he get angry?”

  “Oh yes. That’s when Mama and him start fighting for real. He gets up with one arm and reaches for her throat. She knocks him back. He looks over at me and comes for me. He blames me. My cake. My mother. He’ll take care of her, by taking care of me.”

  “He’s looking for someone he can defeat. He can’t defeat her.”

  “No one can. Especially not on a mower. First she knocks him down with a tree branch. He doesn’t move much, even when she gets back on the tractor . . . and she . . . and she . . .”

  “She finishes the job. And the three-year-old, she saw it all. The birthday girl saw it all, saw the fighting, saw the father’s calculated cruelty, saw your mother help you in the only way she could think of. But it’s too much, Cadence. For the birthday girl.”

  “I don’t—I don’t know where I’m going.”

  “That’s right, Cadence. In a minute, the movie won’t pick up for another seven months. Because Adrienne is being born. Adrienne does what the birthday girl could not—she screams and she yells and she cries and she hurts anyone who gets too close. And also during those months—”

  “Shiro comes.”

  “Yes. If Adrienne’s job is to help the birthday girl have an outlet for her rage, then Shiro’s job is to remember. And to fight. To keep the birthday girl safe. It is the last time you were ever a whole person.”

  “I told him! I told him to watch out for the goose and he didn’t! And then Mama runned over him and—and—”

  “And when the birthday girl came back that spring, her mother was dead also.”

  “She wanted to fly. Like the geese.”

  “Yes. She was facing a lifetime of punishment for what she did. Worst of all, she would never see her daughter again. She managed to get to a roof without anyone stopping her and then leapt to her death. Shiro saw this; the birthday girl never did. Adrienne is your outlet for fear; Shiro is your memory. Shiro remembers everything.”

  Chapter Eighty-two

  “I do not want to be.”

  “I know, Shiro.”

  “I wish I did not.”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “I do not want to be the birthday girl’s memory. I do not want to remember anything. But there is no way to escape. Even if I try not to look, I can still see. I see everything. I see the girl and the goose and the leaves and Daddy all red on the ground.”

  “Yes. But I am speaking with Cadence right now. Your task is to watch and listen. So Cadence will come back out in five seconds. But thank you, Shiro. Thank you for allowing Cadence to see into your earliest memory.”

  “No.”

  “This is Cadence’s time, Shiro. You will all have your turn.”

  “Do not send me away. The dark and the screaming never, ever stop.”

  “You’re all safe here. Shiro, listen: five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

  Chapter Eighty-three

  I was on my knees. I was on my knees and my face was wet. So were my fingers. I was—I had been crying. Was still crying. But Dr. Nessman was there. He was down on one knee beside me, making the girasol shine.

  “She wasn’t bad,” I sobbed. I turned my hands over and saw with no surprise that there were four crescents on each palm, bloody crescents from Shiro clenching our fists. “She wasn’t! She was just trying to give me a cake. Just trying to be a mom. Even when she rode him down on that tractor.”

  “Yes, Cadence.” He handed me some Kleenex. “That’s exactly right. Your mother did all she could, but in a way, what happened that September destroyed you all. Your family was never, ever the same. And neither were you. And you know something else now, don’t you?”

  I didn’t say anything. But Nessman was kindly relentless. “Cadence?”

  I took a deep breath and wiped my eyes. “It wasn’t my fault. His choice and her choice weren’t my fault. I was just a little kid.”

  “That’s right. You were a very young child and your third birthday is your first conscious memory. But it blew your psyche into pieces, and more than two decades later, you’re still trying to finish the puzzle.”

  I was still on my knees. I blew my nose and dully observed that my hands were shaking. “She had red hair. My mother. She had red hair.”

  “Yes. You honored her at that time the only way you could—you invested Adrienne with your mother’s crazy reckless courage, her coloring, even some of her personality. Adrienne is the monument you built to preserve the memory of your mother.”

  I cried harder. I couldn’t seem to stop. Maybe that was going to be my new job. Crying all the time.

  Oh, Mama.

  Chapter Eighty-four

  When I returned to work the next day, I don’t think I was imagining it when people where a bit nicer to me. Pam, sporting pajamas with unicorns riding unicycles, had thoughtfully removed all appointments from my day. Beth swung by with a dozen different recipes for cakes and brownies—she didn’t know I was dating a millionaire baker, the famous Aunt Jane. Frick and Frack were nowhere to be found.

  Michaela took me out to lunch at a sushi restaurant, where she glared at the bar chef as he chopped tuna rolls and sliced salmon.

  “Manhunt for George has gone nationwide,” she informed me. “We’ve also advised border agents with Canada and Mexico of the risk he presents. TSA is also aware; but we don’t think he’d try to fly anywhere.”

  “Not unless he could drive the plane,” I agreed. I marked my sushi menu carefully: two orders nigiri hamachi, two orders sashimi sake. That and a miso soup would do me.

  “We’ve got local law enforcement crawling all over his house in Wayzata. Hasn’t been back. I wish we knew where he was.”

  I shrugged. “He takes pride in being unpredictable. And of course, he knows our procedures. I imagine he’s one or two states away, in a hotel in some suburban area where the staff aren’t going to be looking for a killer. He’d have enough cash reserves to stay off the electronic grid; and using a cash deposit is still common enough that it’s hard to look—”

&n
bsp; Michaela’s cell rang. “It’s Pam.” She flipped it open, listened, and flipped it closed.

  “He’s still in Minneapolis. A lone cop spotted him on Hennepin Avenue and tracked him for about half a block before losing him. We’re putting a quiet cordon around the neighborhood.”

  “He could be trying to stay close so he can attack witnesses.”

  “Scherzo’s closer, but North Minneapolis is still a ways off. Plus, neither witness really has much to offer anymore.”

  “George doesn’t know that. In fact, he’s proven it by attacking Jeremy once already. I’d feel more comfortable if you told me to go.”

  “Go, then. I’ll find an agent to rendezvous with you. Then get to Ms. Carr. Get them both back to HQ and secure them for the next twenty-four hours. I’m heading to Hennepin with most everyone else.”

  Chapter Eighty-five

  To my surprise and delight, I didn’t have to find Tracy. She was with Jeremy.

  “Agent Jones!”

  I returned her smile. “I wasn’t expecting to find you here. But I’m glad. Jeremy’s here, too?”

  He was. A simple bandage on the back of his shaved head was the only visible sign of the trauma he had suffered the last time I was there. I thought wistfully of the Dobermans, who had tried so hard to kill me.

  “So you know each other?”

  “Tj-tj-just recently. At your office.”

  “After you interviewed me, Jeremy was still hanging around,” Tracy explained. “We’ve kinda hit it off. I hope that’s okay?”

  I shrugged. “You don’t need federal permission to date in this country. At least not yet.”

  They giggled. “Dr-dr-Tracy and I spent some time talking to your janitor. Uh-uh-Opus. Nice guy.”

  “I think the proper term is ‘custodian.’ ” Tracy was smiling, but it was thin and I could see that she didn’t care for the topic of Opus. “Jeremy, I doubt Cadence cares much about all the staff we met at the office.”

  “No, I like Opus!”

  “Yeah. He sz-sz-says he’s pretty taken with you, too. I d-d-think he has a crush on you.”