Jonathan Kellerman: Rage

“Find her someone she can relate to and ask them.”

“Good idea. She’s got no family other than some distant cousins who want nothing to do with her.”

“Poor kid,” I said.

“Poor everybody. So when can you start?”

“I’ll come by tomorrow.”

“Terrific. We’ve got the social workers involved and all the girls are staying at a youth shelter downtown. Run by a Pentecostal church, but the people in charge aren’t doing the holy-roller bit and I know from past experience that they’re righteous.”

She gave me an address on Sixth Street.

I said, “I’ll be there at ten.”

“Thanks again, Doctor. In terms of the long-term placement, if you have some advice, we’re all open. The shelter’s good but it’s temporary. I can’t see sending them off to new foster homes without some real careful checking.” She laughed. “Now I’m being a social worker.”

“All part of the job.”

“Unless you keep it out of the job,” she said. “And I’m not ready to do that yet.”

That night, Allison phoned. “I’m in the car, ten minutes away. May I come by?”

“Of course.”

I left the front door open. Seven minutes later, she strode in.

Cosmetics, jewelry, hair loose and shiny. Sleek white silk blouse tucked into wine-colored slacks. Burgundy suede sandals with tiny rhinestone bows. Tiny gold chains across her instep.

She took my face in both hands and kissed my lips, but it didn’t last long.

We sat down in the living room, thigh to thigh. I held her hand. She touched my knee.

“It seems like ages,” she said. “Since we had any fun.”

“It has been ages.”

“I heard about Drew Daney. It was on the news- something about the Sepulveda Dam. Not a lot of details.”

“Do you want details?”

“Not really. You doing okay?”

“Fine, how about you?”

“Me too.” Her eyes dipped at the outer edges.

“What’s wrong?”

“I wish I could provide fun, Alex, but I have to leave for Connecticut in a couple of days. Gram fell and broke her hip and Wes says it seems to have done something to her mind, she’s just not herself. I’d be on the plane tonight but I’ve still got Beth to worry about. She’s better, a lot better, and there’s a very good resident who wants to work with her. Beth seems to like her but the rapport hasn’t developed and there’s the whole abandonment thing to deal with. I’m hoping to get her to accept the resident in a couple of days. To understand that my absence will be temporary.”

She sighed. “I wouldn’t tell anyone else this, but nothing would thrill me more than coming back to find she prefers the resident.”

“Know how you feel.”

“I’m so drained, Alex. Every minute I’m not at the office, I’m over at the hospital. Now it’s Gram. Sometimes I feel I’m a host and everyone else is a parasite. Isn’t that horrible? No one forced me to take this job.”

I put my arm around her. She remained stiff for a moment, then dropped her head on my shoulder. Her hair tickled my nose. I tolerated it.

A few moments later, she said, “I know there’s a lot I need to say to you, but I just don’t have the energy. So could we just go to bed and not have sex? I’ll understand if you say no, but if you could find it within yourself, I’d really appreciate it.”

I got up and took her hand.

“Thank you,” she said. “At least I’ve got a friend.”

She’s fond of her body and usually strips down in front of me. This time she undressed in the bathroom and emerged with her bra and panties on. I was nude, beneath the covers. When she crawled in and I felt the mattress bounce, I got hard and turned to keep that out of view.

She sensed it anyway, rolled over, squeezed, let go.

“It’s so ready,” she said. “Sorry.” Lying on her back, she dropped a smooth white arm over her eyes.

“No apologies necessary,” I said. I needn’t have bothered. She was fast asleep, breathing through her mouth, bra cups heaving.

I knew sleep wouldn’t come my way. Way off my biorhythm and too many things on my mind.

Tomorrow morning. What approach should I take with Monica Strunk?

Would Valerie be able to connect with another therapist?

Where was Miranda?

Would my role as a police surrogate make any approach to the girls futile and would I end up reporting failure to Judy Weisvogel?

Man in a tree.

Baby bracelet.

Trying to breathe myself calm, I worked at shutting out the case.

Thought about a call I’d need to make sooner or later.

Sooner rather than later, given the circumstances.

As Allison slept, I rehearsed mentally.

Ring ring ring.

It’s me.

Oh, hi.

How’re you doing?

Okay. You?

Hanging in.

That’s good.

I thought I might drop over. Visit Spike.

Sure, that’s fine. I’ll be here, too.

Jonathan Kellerman is one of the world's most popular authors. He has brought his expertise as a child psychologist to numerous bestselling tales of suspense (which have been translated into two dozen languages), including thirteen previous Alex Delaware novels; The Butcher's Theater, a story of serial killing in Jerusalem; and Billy Straight, featuring Hollywood homicide detective Petra Connor. His new novel, Flesh and Blood, will be published in hardcover in fall 2001. He is also the author of numerous essays, short stories, and scientific articles, two children's books, and three volumes of psychology, including Savage Spawn: Reflections on Violent Children. He and his wife, the novelist Faye Kellerman, have four children.