Keith Ablow - Compulsion

A young man from the photography department appeared at the door, holding a manila envelope.

"Perfect timing," Fields said. "Let's get a look at that photograph. Maybe we're on a roll here."

"Did you want to review it first?" the young man asked Fields. He sounded like he was making a suggestion.

Fields either didn't pick up on his discomfort or he ignored it. "No need," he said. "We're all friends here." He took the envelope, opened it, and pulled out a five-by-eight black-and-white glossy. Then he stood there staring at it, his face losing its permanent smile for the first time since I had met him. "What's this about?" he said quietly.

I walked over and looked at the photograph. My heart fell. The muscles in my back felt like they were knotting themselves into a noose around my gut. I looked at Anderson, who had hung his head. No doubt he had recognized the beach scene even when Leona had held up the negative. Because he and Julia were the only two figures in it, holding each other close on a deserted stretch of Nantucket beach. Before I could think what to say to him, he walked past Fields and me, and out of the room.

I followed Anderson, concentrating to keep my legs moving. Waves of emotion were crashing inside me. I felt betrayed, enraged, and foolish, all at the same time. I also felt unnerved. I was lost in the geography of the Bishop case. If North had lied to me about his connection with Julia, what else had he lied about? Could I rely on any of the data he had fed me about Bishop? He was the one, after all, who had told me about Bishop's affair with Claire Buckley. He was the one who had confirmed Bishop's having taken out life insurance on the twins.

My mind upped the ante. Could Anderson, I wondered, have been directing my seduction from the beginning? Might he and Julia be partners in crime, using me to help focus suspicion on Darwin Bishop, to get him out of their way?

And what about my having been attacked outside Mass General? Anderson knew my itinerary better than anyone. Was it possible I was winning over a woman he wanted badly enough to have me killed? Was the letter Julia had written meant for him?

I couldn't believe I needed to do it, but I checked for the Browning Baby in my pocket as I headed down the hallway toward the exit to the heliport.

I didn't get there. As I passed an open door to my right, a few feet from the exit, Anderson called my name. I stopped and looked into what seemed to be an anatomy lab, full of gleaming, stainless-steel dissection tables. Anderson was seated on one of them. I walked cautiously inside.

Anderson stared up at the ceiling, shook his head, then looked at me. "I'd explain, but I can't," he said. "It was just something that happened. I never would have…"

"I didn't want this fucking case!" I seethed. "I didn't need this case! Do you understand? You dragged me into it." My stitches pulled viciously at my insides. I closed my eyes and tried to catch my breath as the pain died down slowly. I looked back at Anderson. "Why the hell didn't you tell me about this?"

"I tried, in my own way," he said. "I kept warning you to keep your distance."

"That's not the same as telling me you were with her," I said.

"I was never with her," Anderson said, holding up his hands. "We were headed there-maybe. I can't even say that was in the cards." He dropped his hands to his thighs. "Let me try to tell you exactly what happened."

I stared at him.

"I met her about a month after I took the job down here. That's going back about a year and a half. She and Darwin hosted a fund-raiser for the Pine Street Inn, the big shelter in Boston. All the heavy hitters around here turned out, including all the local politicians. I was new in town, so I spoke to the crowd for ten, fifteen minutes about my plans for policing the island. She called me up, maybe three weeks later, said she wanted to talk about trying to help some of the kids on the island who were struggling with drug problems-maybe start some kind of community action group."

I looked at him askance. "She called you?"

"Not that that's any excuse." He paused. "Things at home weren't the best for me. Maybe we were going through what every married couple goes through, but Tina and I were certainly having a rough time. We weren't talking as much. We were fighting more. And I was second-guessing the move here. I was pretty upset about it for a while."

"Why?" I asked, unable to resist the therapist's mantle, even in my rage.

"I loved Baltimore. That city was part of me. I came here because of what you and I had been through on the Lucas case and because I thought it would be better-safer, cleaner, prettier-for Tina and Kristie."

I wasn't about to let him off the hook. "So Julia called you. Then what?"

"After meeting a couple times for coffee, she told me how unhappy she was. And I started to talk a little bit about what was bothering me. We'd take walks, trade phone calls." He glanced down, let out a sigh. "I felt good. I really did. For the first time in a long time. She's amazing to look at, and that was certainly part of it. But it was more than that. Her voice, the way she looked at me, the way she listened… I thought I'd found someone who could help me change my life."

I didn't like hearing how close Anderson felt to Julia or how similar his emotional experience with her was to mine. "When did you first have sex with her?" I asked, trying to chase the misty look out of Anderson 's eyes. "And how has that affected the investigation?"

Anderson 's eyes thinned. His expression hardened. "Never did, on the first question. Never would, on the second."

"Sure, and give me a break, in that order," I said.

"I never had sex with her, Frank," Anderson bristled. "I'm not you."

I shook my head. "Take the girl and the case and-" I started to walk out.

"Wait a second, will you?" he said. "Look, I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that."

I stopped, turned around.

"Okay," he said. "I'll tell you the whole story. About ten weeks into my… relationship with Julia, Tina told me she wanted a divorce. She didn't know about Julia, but she could see I was getting more and more distant. I didn't want to see the divorce happen, so I tried to stop things cold with Julia, but I found myself thinking about her all the time, wanting to talk with her, to hold her hand. So I kept meeting her." He rolled his eyes. "The most we ever did was kiss, Frank. It must sound childish, but that's all that happened. And you know the strangest part?"

"What?" I said flatly.

"Somehow, holding her and kissing her was enough. I didn't even care that we hadn't shacked up. I didn't want to risk what I thought we had." He fell silent.

I could hear the sadness in Anderson 's voice. "You're not over her," I said.

He looked straight into my eyes. "No," he said. "I don't expect I ever will be."

"So your warning to me to steer clear of her-that was… what?" I asked. "Jealousy?"

"Maybe, a little. Mostly, not." He leaned forward. "I meant what I said. I knew firsthand how my feeling close to her was making it hard to keep my vision clear on the case. I didn't want yours to get cloudy, too."

"Noble," I said.

He ignored the comment! "There's something else, too. And this may sound strange. But the way I felt… maybe, still feel about her, I'm not sure it's even normal. I mean, I was on the verge of leaving my wife a week after I sat alone with Julia for the first time. Take it for what it's worth: I was worried for you. That's why I came down on you so hard about your drinking."

Part of me wanted to tell Anderson he was full of crap, but another part of me resonated with what he had said. It was the same issue I had struggled with in my relationship with Julia: How had my feelings for her grown so strong, so fast? Why was I willing to go out on a limb for her when I wasn't certain who she was? Why had I crossed professional boundaries I would have counseled others to respect?