Tell Me Your Dreams Part 35

"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 to Oregon to visit Sandra's parents and-"

"By the way, an interesting case came into the office 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...."

Book Three

Chapter Twenty-two.

THE Connecticut Psychiatric Hospital, fifteen miles north of Westport, was originally the estate of Wim Boeker, 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. Connecticut Psychiatric Hospital, fifteen miles north of Westport, was originally the estate of Wim Boeker, 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 Foster 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.

Otto Lewison, the superintendent of the Connecticut Psychiatric Hospital, was in his seventies, a neat, dapper little man with a full beard and pince-nez gla.s.ses.

Dr. Craig Foster had worked with Dr. Keller for years and was writing a book on multiple personality disorder. All were studying Ashley Patterson's records.

Otto Lewison said, "The lady has been busy. She's only twenty-eight and she's murdered five men." He glanced at the paper again. "She also tried to murder her attorney."

"Everyone's fantasy," Gilbert Keller said dryly.

Otto Lewison said, "We're going to keep her in security ward A until we can get a full evaluation."

"When is she arriving?" Dr. Keller asked.

The voice of Dr. Lewison's secretary came over the intercom. "Dr. Lewison, they're bringing Ashley Patterson in. Would you like to have them bring her into your office?"

"Yes, please." Lewison looked up. "Does that answer your question?"

The trip had been a nightmare. At the end of her trial, Ashley Patterson had been taken back to her cell and held there for three days while arrangements were made to fly her back east.

A prison bus had driven her to the airport in Oakland, where a plane was waiting for her. It was a converted DC-6, part of the huge National Prisoner Transportation System run by the U.S. Marshals Service. There were twenty-four prisoners aboard, all manacled and shackled.

Ashley was wearing handcuffs, and when she sat down, her feet were shackled to the bottom of the seat.

Why are they doing this to me? I'm not a dangerous criminal. I'm a normal woman. And a voice inside her said, And a voice inside her said, Who murdered five innocent people. Who murdered five innocent people.

The prisoners on the plane were hardened criminals, convicted of murder, rape, armed robbery and a dozen other crimes. They were on their way to top security prisons around the country. Ashley was the only woman on board.

One of the convicts looked at her and grinned. "Hi, baby. How would you like to come over and warm up my lap?"

"Cool it," a guard warned.

"Hey! Don't you have any romance in your soul? This b.i.t.c.h ain't going to get laid for-What's your sentence, baby?"

Another convict said, "Are you h.o.r.n.y, honey? How about me movin' into the seat next to you and slippin' you-?"

Another convict was staring at Ashley. "Wait a minute!" he said. "That's the broad who killed five men and castrated them."

They were all looking at Ashley now.

That was the end of the badgering.

On the way to New York, the plane made two landings to discharge or pick up pa.s.sengers. It was a long flight, the air was turbulent and by the time they landed at La Guardia Airport, Ashley was airsick.

Two uniformed police officers were waiting for her on the tarmac when the plane landed. She was unshackled from the plane seat and shackled again in the interior of a police van. She had never felt so humiliated. The fact that she felt so normal made it all the more unbearable. Did they think she was going to try to escape or murder someone? All that was over, in the past. Didn't they know that? She was sure it would never happen again. She wanted to be away from there. Anywhere.

Sometime during the long, dreary drive to Connecticut, she dozed off. She was awakened by a guard's voice.

"We're here."

They had reached the gates of the Connecticut Psychiatric Hospital.

When Ashley Patterson was ushered into Dr. Lewison's office, he said, "Welcome to Connecticut Psychiatric Hospital, Miss Patterson."

Ashley stood there, pale and silent.

Dr. Lewison made the introductions and held out a chair. "Sit down, please." He looked at the guard. "Take off the handcuffs and shackles."

The restraints were removed, and Ashley took a seat.

Dr. Foster said, "I know this must be very difficult for you. We're going to do everything we can to make it as easy as possible. Our goal is to see that one day you will leave this place, cured."

Ashley found her voice. "How-how long could that take?"

Otto Lewison said, "It's too soon to answer that yet. If you can can be cured, it could take five or six years." be cured, it could take five or six years."

Each word hit Ashley like a thunderbolt. "If you "If you can can be cured, it could take five or six years. be cured, it could take five or six years.

"The therapy is nonthreatening. It will consist of a combination of sessions with Dr. Keller-hypnotism, group therapy, art therapy. The important thing to remember is that we're not your enemies."

Gilbert Keller was studying her face. "We're here to help you, and we want you to help us do that."

There was nothing more to say.

Otto Lewison nodded to the attendant, and he walked over to Ashley and took her arm.

Craig Foster said, "He'll take you to your quarters now. We'll talk again later."

When Ashley had left the room, Otto Lewison turned to Gilbert Keller. "What do you think?"

"Well, there's one advantage. There are only two alters to work on."

Keller was trying to remember. "What's the most we've had?"

"The Beltrand woman-ninety alters."

Ashley had not known what to expect, but somehow she had envisioned a dark, dreary prison. The Connecticut Psychiatric Hospital was more like a pleasant clubhouse-with metal bars.

As the attendant escorted Ashley through the long, cheerful corridors, Ashley watched the inmates freely walking back and forth. There were people of every age, and all of them seemed normal. Why are they here? Why are they here? Some of them smiled at her and said, "Good morning," but Ashley was too bewildered to answer. Everything seemed surreal. She was in an insane asylum. Some of them smiled at her and said, "Good morning," but Ashley was too bewildered to answer. Everything seemed surreal. She was in an insane asylum. Am I insane? Am I insane?

They reached a large steel door that closed off a part of the building. There was a male attendant behind the door. He pressed a red b.u.t.ton and the huge door opened.

"This is Ashley Patterson."

The second attendant said, "Good morning, Miss Patterson." They made everything seem so normal. But nothing is normal anymore, But nothing is normal anymore, Ashley thought. Ashley thought. The world is upside down. The world is upside down.

"This way, Miss Patterson." He walked her to another door and opened it. Ashley stepped inside. Instead of a cell, she was looking at a pleasant, medium-size room with pastel blue walls, a small couch and a comfortable-looking bed.

"This is where you'll be staying. They'll be bringing your things in a few minutes."

Ashley watched the guard leave and close the door behind him. This is where you'll be staying. This is where you'll be staying.

She began to feel claustrophobic. What if I don't want to stay? What if I want to get out of here? What if I don't want to stay? What if I want to get out of here?

She walked over to the door. It was locked. Ashley sat down on the couch, trying to organize her thoughts. She tried to concentrate on the positive. We're going to try to cure you. We're going to try to cure you.

We're going to try to cure you.

We're going to cure you.

Chapter Twenty-three.

DR . Gilbert Keller was in charge of Ashley's therapy. His specialty was treating multiple personality disorder, and while he had had failures, his success rate was high. In cases like this, there were no easy answers. His first job was to get the patient to trust him, to feel comfortable with him, and then to bring out the alters, one by one, so that in the end they could communicate with one another and understand why they existed, and finally, why there was no more need for them. That was the moment of blending, when the personality states came together as a single ent.i.ty. . Gilbert Keller was in charge of Ashley's therapy. His specialty was treating multiple personality disorder, and while he had had failures, his success rate was high. In cases like this, there were no easy answers. His first job was to get the patient to trust him, to feel comfortable with him, and then to bring out the alters, one by one, so that in the end they could communicate with one another and understand why they existed, and finally, why there was no more need for them. That was the moment of blending, when the personality states came together as a single ent.i.ty.

We're a long way from that, Dr. Keller thought. Dr. Keller thought.

The following morning, Dr. Keller had Ashley brought to his office. "Good morning, Ashley."

"Good morning, Dr. Keller."

"I want you to call me Gilbert. We're going to be friends. How do you feel?"

She looked at him and said, "They tell me I've killed five people. How should I feel?"

"Do you remember killing any of them?"

"No."

"I read the transcript of your trial, Ashley. You didn't kill them. One of your alters did. We're going to get acquainted with your alters, and in time, with your help, we'll make them disappear."

"I-I hope you can-"

"I can. I'm here to help you, and that's what I'm going to do. The alters were created in your mind to save you from an unbearable pain. We have to find out what caused that pain. I need to find out when those alters were born and why."

"How-how do you do that?"