Sidney Sheldon - Tell me your dreams

"What is it?"

"The Connecticut Psychiatric Hospital back east has handled more cases of MPD than any other place in the country. A friend of mine, Dr. Otto Lewison, is in charge of it. If you could arrange for the court to have Ashley sent there, I think it would be very beneficial."

"Thanks," David said. "I'll see what I can do."

Dr. Steven Patterson said to David, "I—I don't know how to thank you."

David smiled. "You don't have to. It was quid pro quo. Remember?"

"You did a brilliant job. For a while I was afraid—"

"So was I."

"But justice has been served. My daughter's going to be cured."

"I'm sure of it," David said. "Dr. Salem suggested a psychiatric hospital in Connecticut. Their doctors are trained in MPD."

Dr. Patterson was silent for a moment. "You know, Ashley didn't deserve any of this. She's such a beautiful person."

"I agree. I'll talk to Judge Williams and try to get the transfer."

Judge Williams was in her chambers. "What can I do for you, Mr. Singer?"

"I'd like to ask a favor." She smiled. "I hope I can grant it. What is it?" David explained to the judge what Dr. Salem had told him.

"Well, that's a rather unusual request. We have some fine psychiatric facilities right here in California."

David said, "All right. Thank you. Your Honor." He turned to leave, disappointed.

"I haven't said no, Mr. Singer." David stopped. "It's an unusual request, but this has been an unusual case." David waited.

"I think I can arrange for her to be transferred."

"Thank you. Your Honor. I appreciate it."

In her cell, Ashley thought. They've sentenced me to death. A long death in an asylum filled with crazy people. It would have been kinder to kill me now. She thought of the endless, hopeless years ahead of her, and she began to sob.

The cell door opened, and her father came in. He stood there a moment, looking at her, his face filled with anguish.

"Honey..." He sat down opposite her. "You're going to live," he said.

She shook her head. "I don't want to live."

"Don't say that. You have a medical problem, but it can be cured. And it's going to be. When you're better, you're going to come and live with me, and I'll take care of you. No matter what happens, we'll always have each other. They can't take that away from us."

Ashley sat there, saying nothing.

"I know how you're feeling right now, but believe me, that's going to change. My girl is going to come home to me, cured." He slowly got to his feet "I'm afraid I have to get back to San Francisco." He waited for Ashley to say something.

She was silent.

"David told me that he thinks you're going to be sent to one of the best psychiatric centers in the world. I'll come and visit you. Would you like that?"

She nodded, dully. "Yes."

"All right, honey." He kissed her on the cheek and gave her a hug. "I'm going to see to it that you have the best care in the world. I want my little girl back."

Ashley watched her father leave, and she thought, Why can't I die now? Why won't they let me die? One hour later, David came to see her. "Well, we did it," he said. He looked at her in concern. "Are you all right?"

"I don't want to go to an insane asylum. I want to die. I can't stand living like this. Help me, David. Please help me."

"Ashley, you're going to get help. The past is over. You have a future now. The nightmare is going to be finished." He took her hand. "Look, you've trusted me this far. Keep trusting me. You're going to live a normal life again."

She sat there, silent.

"Say 'I believe you, David.' "

She took a deep breath. "I—I believe you, David."

He grinned. "Good girl. This is a new beginning for you."

The moment the ruling was made public, the media went crazy. Overnight, David was a hero. He had taken an impossible case and won it. He called Sandra. "Honey, I—"

"I know, darling. I know. I just saw it on television. Isn't it wonderful? I'm so proud of you."

"I can't tell you how glad I am that it's over. I'll be coming back tonight. I can't wait to see—"

"David...?"

"Yes?"

"David... oooh..."

"Yes? What's wrong, honey?"

"... Oooh... We're having a baby...."

"Wait for me!" David shouted.

Jeffrey Singer weighed eight pounds, ten ounces, and was the most beautiful baby David had ever seen.

"He looks just like you, David," Sandra said.

"He does, doesn't he?" David beamed.

"I'm glad everything turned out so well," Sandra said.

David sighed. "There were times when I wasn't so sure".

"I never doubted you."

David bugged Sandra and said, "I'll be back, honey. I have to clean out my things at the office."

When David arrived at the offices of Kincaid, Turner, Rose & Ripley, he was greeted warmly.

"Congratulations, David..."

"Good job..."

"You really showed them...."

David walked into his office. Holly was gone. David started cleaning out his desk.

"David—"

David turned around. It was Joseph Kincaid.

Kincaid walked up to him and said, "What are you doing?"

"I'm cleaning out my office. I was fired."

Kincaid smiled. "Fired? Of course not No, no, no. There was some kind of a misunderstanding." He beamed. "We're making you a partner, my boy. In fact, I've set up a press conference for you here this afternoon at three o'clock."

David looked at him. "Really?"

Kincaid nodded. "Absolutely."

David said, "You'd better cancel it. I've decided to go back into criminal law. I've been offered a partnership by Jesse Quiller. At least when you're dealing with that part of the law, you know who the criminals really are. So, Joey, baby, you take your partnership and shove it where the sun don't shine."

And David walked out of the office.

* * *

Jesse Quiller looked around the penthouse and said, "This is great. It really becomes you two."

"Thank you," Sandra said. She heard a sound from the nursery. "I'd better check on Jeffrey." She hurried off to the next room.

Jesse Quiller walked over to admire a beautiful sterling silver picture frame with Jeffrey's first photograph already in it. "This is lovely. Where did it come from?"

"Judge Williams sent it"

Jesse said, "I'm glad to have you back, partner."

"I'm glad to be back, Jesse."

"You'll probably want a little time to relax now. Rest up a little...."

"Yes. We thought we'd take Jeffrey and drive up Oregon to visit Sandra's parents and—"

"By the way, an interesting case came into the of this morning, David. This woman is accused of murdering her two children. I have a feeling she's innocent. Unfortunately, I'm going to Washington on another case, but I thought that you might just talk to her and see what you think...."

THE COnnecticut Psychiatric Hospital, fifteen miles north of Westport, was originally the estate of Wim Booker, a wealthy Dutchman, who built the house in 1910. The forty lush acres contained a large manor house, a workshop, stable and swimming pool. The state had bought the property in 1925 and had refitted the manor house to accommodate a hundred patients. A tall chain-link fence had been erected around the property, with a manned guard post at the entrance. Metal bars had been placed on all the windows, and one section of the house had been fortified as a security area to hold dangerous inmates.

In the office of Dr. Otto Lewison, head of the psychiatric clinic, a meeting was taking place. Dr. Gilbert Keller and Dr. Craig Poster were discussing a new patient who was about to arrive.

Gilbert Keller was a man in his forties, medium height, blond hair and intense gray eyes. He was a renowned expert on multiple personality disorder.