Her Silent Shadow: A Gripping Psychological Suspense Collection

by Edwin Dasso

  Jack balled his fists, his heart hammering as he pursued the man. Jack constantly twisted his head around so he didn’t lose sight of Olgent It-it can’t be! I killed you! He set his jaw and started to jog, dodging around like when he was a fullback running through would-be tacklers. No! You’re not going to kill my wife and baby again!

  Jack charged up behind the man, reached out, and grabbed a handful of shirt. He hauled backward, spinning the man around, then threw him against the wall. He pressed the man against the wall and stepped close, staring into the man’s face. Wait. What?

  The man scowled and shoved Jack back. “Are you fucking nuts? What the hell are you doing, attacking me like this?”

  Jack slowly backed away, rubbing at his forehead. He could be Olgent’s twin…but it’s not him. “You-you’re not Dick Olgent…”

  “No shit, you psycho!” The man glared at Jack’s id badge. “Well, Dr. Bass, I’m calling the president of this place and reporting you!” He shoved himself away from the wall and straightened his jacket then hurried away, repeatedly looking back over his shoulder at Jack. “Goddam nutcase.”

  Jack watched the man move down the hall until he disappeared into a doorway. Jack shook his head slowly as he pounded a fist against his forehead, like he did when he was a kid and his father berated him for making a mistake. What the hell is wrong with you, Bass? He suddenly bolted up onto his tiptoes, scanning down the hall. Janice? He snaked his head from side to side, trying to locate her through the horde.

  He slowly dropped down, flat-footed, his shoulders slumping. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Maybe I’m just having another bad dream. He opened an eye a slit, just in time to dodge a patient on a gurney being shoved down the hall from the direction of the ER. Damn! He wasn’t at home in bed—he really was at the hospital. He leaned a hand against the wall and hung his head.

  “What the hell is wrong with me?” he mumbled.

  18

  Jack stood outside the hospital president’s office door the next morning. He’d suspected this meeting request would happen after the incident of mistaken identity the prior day. He straightened his tie, groaned, and pushed open the heavy oak door.

  “Have a seat, Jack,” the hospital president said as he waved at a chair in front of his desk. His face was drawn, and his lips were pressed together into a thin line. He plopped into his desk chair then blew out a long breath as he rubbed at his temples and stared at Jack.

  Jack sat then laced his fingers together in his lap and stared down at them.

  The president leaned his forearms on his desk. “Dr. Bass…I don’t want you to think this decision was easy for me…”

  Jack held up a hand for him to stop. “I know it wasn’t, Earl. I understand the position I put you in…even if it was just an instance of mistaken identity on my part.”

  “Maybe it was, but”—he jabbed a finger at Jack—“you can’t go around attacking hospital visitors.” He looked down and shook his head slowly. “You just can’t!” He glanced up at Jack. “My god! What if that guy goes to the press! Can you imagine the fiasco that will create?”

  “Not that it will change things but I’m happy to send him a letter of apology…or even meet with him to apologize in person.”

  Earl leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of his face as he appraised Jack. “You’re right—it won’t change things.” He shook his head again. “You’re lucky we were able to convince him not to press charges.”

  Jack squirmed in the chair. This was like sitting in the principal’s office when he was a kid in grade school. His face flushed hot, and he tugged at his collar then wiped sweat from his forehead onto a shirt sleeve. Damn, I hate this! He glanced at Earl. When was he going to drop the bomb?

  “Jack…I’ve done some asking around.” He leaned his jaw on one of his fists and stared at Jack. “Seems this kind of erratic behavior is not something new for you. You have a history…”

  Jack nodded slowly but continued to stare at his hands in his lap. “I can’t deny that…whatever the circumstances might have been behind that behavior,” he mumbled.

  Earl shrugged. “Well, I’m not a psychiatrist, so I can’t be a judge of that.”

  “Just cut to the chase.”

  Earl pointed a finger at Jack. “Fine. The medical privileges board met about this, and…they think you need to have your hospital privileges suspended until you’ve had an adequate psychiatric evaluation.”

  There it was. Déjà-fucking-vu. Just as he’d expected. Jack’s guts twisted, and he nodded. Shit!

  “Do you understand?”

  “I think it’s a bit of an overreaction.”

  “Doesn’t matter what you think. The decision has been made.” He waved an arm at Jack. “Maybe after some treatment, if you’ve been cleared by the psychiatric team, the board will consider reinstating your privileges.” He held his hands up at his sides. “No promises, though.”

  “I don’t agree, but…” Jack stood from the chair and turned toward the door. He took a step then turned back. “Anything else?”

  “Well—yes. I’ll need your ID badge.” He held out his hand, palm up.

  Jack looked down at his lapel where the badge was clipped. He slowly wrapped his fingers around it then yanked. He stepped to the large, ornate desk and tossed the badge down onto the shiny wood.

  “There you go. I suppose somebody will be in touch with me about follow up?”

  Earl nodded. “Yes. You can expect a call from the hospital attorney in the next few days.’

  Jack snorted. “Wonderful.” He shuffled to the door and opened it. “Have a great day,” he muttered over his shoulder.

  19

  Jack sat at his kitchen table the next day, staring out a window at his rose garden. The view usually made him feel good, but today it had no effect. He sighed and stared down at his coffee mug as he ran a finger around the rim. He’d gotten the expected call from the hospital attorney, and the woman had agreed that the treatment Jack was already receiving from Dr. Stone would satisfy the requirement for psychiatric care. Jack frowned and grunted. Woo-hoo!

  He didn’t feel like socializing but was getting antsy just sitting around the house. He needed to get out. Somewhere where he could be anonymous. Though he hated window-shopping, he decided that the nice open-air mall not far from his home might be a good solution. He went into his bathroom to clean up, groaning when he saw his unshaven face and mussed hair. That won’t do—might scare people looking like this. He dropped his robe onto the floor and started cleaning up.

  After arriving at the shopping center an hour later, Jack strolled aimlessly, his head hung, hands in his pockets. No particular place to go and no rush to get there. He didn’t bother to stop and look in windows. There was nothing there he wanted. What he did want was a normal life. One where he wasn’t hounded by past demons, physical and mental.

  Up ahead, a baby cried, and Jack snapped his head up. Babies always got his attention—he loved babies. When Jack spotted the baby, his heart skipped a beat. A woman carried the child on her shoulder, and the infant had her fingers tangled in her mother’s long, strawberry blonde hair. She looks like Janice! First, in the hospital, now here… Jack’s heart raced, and he picked up his pace…then slowed. He lumbered a few more steps then stopped and shook his head.

  “No—you’re not Janice,” he mumbled, earning himself a strange look from a passerby. He turned the other direction and shuffled away. I’m not doing this again. She’s dead. The baby is dead. That was reality—he knew that…and hated it.

  “Jack, we need to talk. It never happened—the baby and I are fine. We need to meet…discreetly, for now. I’m being followed.”

  The words took a few seconds to register, but Jack was suddenly stunned out of his stupor by the woman’s whisper. His gaze darted to his side where he’d heard the voice, but there was no woman there. He frantically searched the busy sidewalk around him. There she was again! She had reversed her direction. S
he was walking briskly, her beautiful hair blowing lazily in the breeze. She held the baby on her shoulder, the child’s dark eyes locking on Jack’s. Could it really be? He bolted toward the woman, dodging shoppers on the crowded walk.

  As he looked over the crowd to locate Janice, he bumped into an elderly woman, sending her and her shopping bag sprawling across the sidewalk. Jack shot a quick glance at Janice then at the old woman and her items on the ground. Damn!

  “I am terribly sorry, ma’am. I should have been paying more attention.”

  “Damn straight, you clumsy oaf!”

  He dropped to his knees and tossed the woman’s shopping items back into her bag. He twisted his head around every few seconds, trying to keep Janice in sight. He grabbed the bag and put a hand under the elderly woman’s armpit.

  “Here, let me help you to your feet.”

  His gaze darted between her and Janice, who continued moving away.

  The old woman scowled at him. “I just got out of the hospital from a broken hip—I don’t need you giving me another.”

  Jack nodded. “Yes, yes, of course.”

  He stood on his toes just in time to see Janice turn into a store. She stopped at the entrance and looked back at him. Their gazes locked. She smiled and nodded toward the shop. The child twisted in her arms and looked at Jack, too, then reached a hand out toward him. She looked a little different, but looked good. His heart pounded.

  “And another thing—”

  Jack’s gaze shot back to the old woman who was waggling an index finger at him.

  “Look, lady—I said I was sorry, and I am.” He glanced at the store doorway. “But I’ve got to go!”

  He jumped around her and jogged toward the store Janice had ducked into, constantly dodging oncoming shoppers who were busy looking at their phones rather than where they were going. I hate smartphones! What was wrong with people today, anyway? He reached for the door to the shop, skidding to a halt, nodding and smiling at the woman who was exiting. He held the door for her, tapping his foot rapidly on the ground as she fumbled with the bags she carried, stopping to shift them around. She looked up and smiled at Jack.

  “Thank you.”

  Jack flashed a thin smile. “Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

  He bolted through the door then stopped and scanned the interior. Where the hell is she?

  He rushed up and down every aisle, constantly swiveling his head, scrutinizing every square inch of the store he could view. He skidded to a halt. Damn! I know she came in here. He mopped sweat from his brow as he twisted around, his gaze soon falling on the dressing room sign. He slapped a palm against his forehead. Of course! He raced to the back, moving along the row of small dressing rooms, stopping at each and craning his head to listen for the sounds of a baby.

  “Sir! This is the women’s dressing area—you need to leave!” the store clerk said, her arms crossed over her chest as she scowled at Jack.

  Jack’s face flushed hot and the warmth rolled down his neck onto his chest. He jerked his head up and spun toward the clerk.

  “Oh…yeah. Sorry…I, uh, was just trying to find my wife…”

  She narrowed her eyes and stared at him, her hands on her hips. “What’s her name? I’ll ask for her.” She held out an arm and pointed at a couch outside the dressing area. “You go wait out there.”

  Jack hung his head and nodded. “Sure, but please hurry. Something important has come up.”

  She followed him to the exit, yanking a drape closed across the doorway then waggled her finger at the couch. “I’ll take care of it. Go sit.”

  Jack stopped, twisting his head to the side. “Janice.”

  “What?”

  “Her name is Janice.”

  He sauntered to the couch and plopped onto it, running the fingers of both hands through his hair. Mumbled voices came from the dressing area, but he couldn’t make out any of the words. He began to thump his foot on the floor. What the hell is taking so long? He bent down to peer under the curtain to locate the clerk but couldn’t see her. He jumped up and paced in front of the couch then suddenly stopped in front of the curtained entrance. Screw this! He reached for the curtain then jumped back as it was thrown aside. The clerk stood in the opening, frowning at Jack.

  “I told you I’d take care of it!” she snarled.

  “Did you find her?”

  The clerk shook her head slowly. “You said her name is Janice?”

  “Yes, yes. Janice.” He looked past her into the dressing area. “Is she in there? She has a baby with her.”

  “No. No one answered to that name.”

  Jack stiffened and stared at her. “But…she has to be in there! I-I saw her come in this store, and she’s not out here.” He waved a hand around the store. “She’s got to be in the there.” He jabbed a finger at the area behind her. “Can you try again?”

  The clerk stepped back. “I’m sorry, sir, but you’re mistaken.”

  “No!” Jack bent down, clenching his teeth, his face near hers. “I’m not!”

  The clerk’s eyes shot wide, and she slowly backed away, her gaze darting about. She reached to her side and snatched up a broom that was leaning against the wall. She grabbed it with both hands, holding it like a pike in front of her, her lips trembling as she stared at Jack.

  “Y-you need to leave…or-or I’ll call security.”

  Bass! get a grip! You’re scaring the hell out of this poor girl. He slumped his shoulders and hung his head. What was wrong with him? He didn’t like how he was acting but seemed unable to control his thoughts. And, he’d done it again—gotten his hopes up about Janice. He shot a quick glance at her then looked away.

  “I-I’m sorry.”

  He turned and rushed from the store. He stopped on the walk just outside and looked both ways, sighed, then shoved his hands deep into his pockets and shuffled away.

  20

  Jack gave in and went to see Dr. Stone the next day. Dr. Stone sat in his chair, his hands resting on the open chart that sat on his lap. He ran his gaze over Jack.

  “I hate to say it but…you look terrible, Jack.”

  Jack sat on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, holding his head in both hands. He grunted in response.

  “Start whenever you’re ready.”

  Jack rocked his head in his hands then grabbed the water bottle from the coffee table and took a quick sip. “It-it was so real, Dolion! She was so real. The baby was so real…”

  “Jack, you and I both know hallucinations can seem like reality.”

  Jack nodded slowly. “Yeah…I know…” He glanced up then hung his head again. “But…I’m not so sure it was a hallucination…”

  “What I’m really concerned about is the fact that you may be having hallucinations at all.” Stone squirmed in the chair and sat up straighter then pointed his pen at Jack. “That’s not a good development. Delusional thinking related to PTSD is one thing but…hallucinations? That’s a whole different story. We need to figure out if something else is contributing to this.”

  Jack shrugged. “Like what?”

  “Is there any history of schizophrenia in your family?”

  Jack bolted upright, his eyes shooting wide as he stared at Stone. “What?” He shook his head vigorously. “Hell no! Of course not.” He slumped back on the couch, his chin almost resting on his chest. “None that I know of…”

  “Are you aware of all your family history?

  Jack sat silently for several seconds, his face slack. He hated to admit it but…he really didn’t. He shook his head slowly. “No... My mother never really told me much about her family.” He blew out a long breath. “I just know her childhood was not a good one.” He looked up at Stone. “She only married my father to escape the reservation…” he mumbled then hung his head again.

  “And your father?”

  “A damned alcoholic—a real prick and a useless human being…” Jack wrung his hands then rubbed at the back of his neck. “He thought I was nothing but h
is personal punching bag whenever he got mad about something.”

  “Hmmm. He beat you?”

  “Yes…and my mother. And I wasn’t there to protect her—” Jack sniffed and caught his breath as he recalled finding his father standing over his unconscious mother, her head bloodied. "He eventually beat her to death.”

  “Whoa! He killed her?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long did he abuse you?”

  “As long as I can remember when I lived at home.”

  Stone jotted a few notes in the chart. “So, severe childhood trauma, unknown mental health family history on one side, and high-risk mental health issues on the other. Do you agree?”

  I never really thought of it that way, but… Jack nodded slowly.

  “That’s not a very good profile for mental health risk. On top of the genes you likely inherited, your childhood experiences would stack the deck against you when it comes to mental health.”

  “Maybe,” Jack mumbled.

  Stone silently appraised Jack for several seconds. “Jack, as a physician, you know that in order to treat someone properly, you need to diagnose their condition correctly. Would you agree?”

  Jack nodded. “Of course.”

  “And…sometimes, the diagnosis you arrive at isn’t good news for the patient, right?”

  Jack shrugged. “Sometimes…”

  “But if you’re going to help them get better, you need to treat the diagnosis you made, not the one the patient might want to hear.” He shrugged quickly. “Like a surgeon needing to cut someone open in order to remove a cancer.”

  Jack slowly raised his gaze to Stone’s face. “Where are you going with this?”

  “Have you ever been faced with a patient who was in denial about the diagnosis you gave them? Maybe even refused treatment?”

  “Yes…just like every other doctor.” Jack vaulted from the couch and paced rapidly in circles around it. He stopped suddenly and stabbed a finger at Stone. “But this is different! I-I think—I know she’s alive! Our baby is alive!”