Leona Karr - Innocent Witness

“I assume that the Children’s Clinic sent you Penny’s records?” Deanna continued, endeavoring to put some kind of formality into the interview. Handling matters in an efficient, organized way was her nature and had been partly responsible for her success as a businesswoman.

“Why don’t we sit down?” Steve suggested pleasantly without answering, mentally noting her let’s-get-down-to-business tone. The elegance of her short layered blond hair and the way she held her head gave her a regal quality that matched her beautifully shaped mouth and firm chin. Deanna Drake’s negative vibes were a warning to ready himself for a challenge. This might be interesting.

“Have a seat…or a pillow, rather,” he invited as he pointed to a low round table surrounded by soft cushions placed in the center of the large room.

Deanna tried to keep her expression from revealing her reaction. Was the initial interview with this psychologist going to take place here, in this room which held no resemblance to a regular office? Except for a well-worn floral couch and a window seat, the only places to sit were the floor cushions and a few children’s chairs scattered around the room. A desk, a chair and some file cabinets were pushed into one corner, and the rest of the space was taken up with all kinds of children’s paraphernalia. Everything was shoved onto shelves without any visible sign of organization. A line of framed diplomas on the wall shared crowded space with large baseball posters, Mother Goose pictures, Sesame Street characters and childish artwork. How could the psychologist possibly expect to conduct a professional interview sitting on floor cushions around a table that held a pitcher of chocolate milk, a plate of cookies and several stuffed animals and puppets?

“The pillows are more comfortable than they look,” Steve reassured her, noting her hesitation. “Of course, Mrs. Drake, we can go into the conference room and conduct the interview there if you’d be more at ease…?” He let the sentence dangle like an unspoken challenge.

Deanna met his eyes without a flicker of her long lashes. “This will be fine.” She certainly wasn’t going to let this unorthodox therapist make her lose her composure.

“Good,” he said approvingly as if she’d passed some sort of test.

As Deanna sat down on one of the floor pillows, she was thankful that she had decided to wear white slacks and a yellow shirtwaist blouse instead of a summer dress. Trying to keep her legs covered with a short skirt would have been totally embarrassing. She gave Penny’s hand a reassuring squeeze as she eased her daughter down on the pillow next to her. Taking a deep breath, she tried to quell her nervousness.

Steve chose a cushion across the table from them, sat down and wound his long legs into a cross-legged sitting position. “Would you like a glass of chocolate milk?” he asked as if they were at some Mad Hatter’s tea party.

Deanna silently fumed, No, I don’t want any milk. I want to know if you can help my daughter. She hadn’t driven fifty miles down a mountain road from her home in Eagle Ridge to Denver, and also canceled some important business engagements, so she could play tea party. Without comment, Deanna took the glass he offered.

From the way Penny was watching her mother, Steve knew that the little girl had already picked up, with the intuitive perception of children, that her mother didn’t like Dr. Steve Sherman. He sighed. Not a good beginning. The first hurdle in successfully treating any child was gaining the parent’s confidence, and it didn’t take a degree in psychology to know that he was losing the first inning with Deanna Drake.

“I hope Penny likes chocolate milk,” Steve said as he set a glass in front of her. The child’s guarded look went from her mother to Steve and back to the milk. Then she set her little lips in a stubborn line and made no move to touch the glass.

Steve watched her while pretending to give all his attention to his own glass. As much as the little girl might want to drink the chocolate milk, she wouldn’t touch it. Why? What held her back? What was fueling her willpower and resistance? Although he’d had remarkable success working with traumatized children, he knew that when a psychosis was deeply-seated, the psyche protected itself at all costs.

Steve had read newspaper accounts of Benjamin Drake’s murder in the file, and he knew that they had found the child whimpering in a terrified state on her balcony, but whatever had happened on the night that Penny’s father had been shot still remained a mystery. She must have been a witness to the crime. Who knew what secrets were buried in Penelope Drake’s pretty little head? And equally important, would the child be put in danger if he was successful in breaking her silence about them?

“Would you like a cookie, Penny?” he asked, placing one beside the little girl’s untouched glass of milk. Then he took one for himself and laughed as he sniffed it. “Don’t they smell good. Freshly baked.”

Deanna tried to control her impatience. When she’d heard about Dr. Steve Sherman, the child psychologist who had just moved to the Denver area from California, her hopes had risen like released balloons. Maybe he was the miracle she’d been praying for. Maybe he had the expertise needed to help Penny be herself again. But as Deanna studied the man across the table from her, her high hopes were more like helium balloons sagging from slow leaks. The relaxed psychologist’s attention was on pouring chocolate milk and offering cookies, as if the gravity of the situation completely escaped him.

Steve met her frown with a smile. He knew exactly what she was thinking. Deanna Drake had come to him because she was desperate, and he could tell that she had already written him off as another false and painful disappointment. No doctor in a white coat. No clipboard filled with charts. No reassuring medical trappings. A waste of time. Disappointment radiated from her.

“You live in Eagle Ridge, Colorado?” he asked in a conversational tone, as if they had all the time in the world.

“Yes.” It’s in the file, Deanna silently replied as her chest tightened. Everything was in the records, including her hotel management degree and her five-year marriage to a man fifteen years her senior.

“I’m not sure where Eagle Ridge is.” He raised a questioning dark brown eyebrow. “I guess you know I’m new to Colorado. I’m determined to take some time and enjoy these magnificent mountains.”

“Eagle Ridge is northwest of Denver, about fifty miles. It’s a small mountain town that survives on tourist dollars winter and summer. I inherited a small resort hotel from my late husband. Of course, if you’ve read Penny’s case history, you know all of that.”

“Sounds like a wonderful place to raise children,” he said, ignoring the slight edge to her voice.

“I can’t imagine living anywhere else,” she admitted, and then added quickly, “But I’d move in a minute if I thought it would help Penny.”

“Those are my sentiments as a parent exactly,” he agreed. “That’s why I left California. I wanted something better for my son, Travis. I’m also a single parent. I lost my wife when Travis was less than two years old. His grandmother helped raise him, but she passed away last year, so it’s just the two of us.”

So the handsome Dr. Sherman was a widower, thought Deanna. Why they were spending time on his personal life, she didn’t know, but the fact that he also had a child was, in a way, reassuring. “How old is your son?”

“Travis is seven. I’m hoping he’ll really take to Colorado. I’ve promised to take him hiking and fishing this summer, and next winter we’ll hit the ski slopes.” He grinned at Penny. “He’s never thrown a snowball. And he wants me to buy him a sled. He’s always singing that song about Frosty—you know the one I mean, Penny?”