Chase looked over at Marissa, then Louisa. They were looking at her as if she was insane.
What if the person I choose to become is even more fucked up than I am now?
She shook her head and turned to Petra.
"I'm sorry," Chase whispered, then left the room without another word.
Chapter 14
“I have to… I have to go,” Stitts said, glancing down at his watch. “I’ve got a flight to catch.”
Beckett looked over at Dr. Calderon.
“See? You scared him off with all of your hyper-specialized, overcomplicated douchebaggery.”
Dr. Calderon scowled.
While it was true that Stitts’s head was spinning from all the technical jargon, and the only thing that they’d concluded over the past hour was that the electroshock therapy and Chase’s later drug use had caused structural changes to her brain, he really did have to go.
“Yeah, for real.”
Whether or not the changes were responsible for Chase’s strange visions was something that Stitts would have to ponder later on his own.
“Seriously?” Beckett asked as he poured a tipple of scotch into his coffee. “I think—”
“Yeah, I have to go. Really.”
Beckett sipped his drink.
“What about this?” he asked, holding up the folder with Chase’s MRI results.
Stitts instinctively reached for it, but Beckett pulled it back.
“I’ll take it.”
“You want to—?”
“Fuck, I said I’d take it—I’ll tell her,” Stitts replied. His face was feeling flushed, but he didn’t care. He needed to have a smoke and get the fuck out of the hospital. If he missed his flight…
“Fine, shit,” Beckett said, handing the folder over. “You got a prom date, or what?”
The man appeared genuinely stung by the comment, which surprised Stitts. Beckett was usually cold as ice. Sure, the man joked constantly, but the laughter almost never reached his eyes.
“Sorry,” Stitts grumbled. “I’ve got to… look, I’ve got a funeral I need to attend, that’s all. I can’t do this right now. I’ll speak to Chase when I get back to Virginia, and if you guys want to meet up later, I’m more than happy to arrange something. The most important thing is that Chase gets better. That’s all I really care about.”
Beckett eyed him suspiciously, which quickly made Stitts uncomfortable.
“Sorry,” he repeated.
Beckett offered his drink to Stitts without a word, and he took it.
“That’s all we want, too,” Beckett said when Stitts put the Styrofoam to his lips and took a tremendous gulp.
Chapter 15
Chase entered Dr. Matteo’s office without knocking. She stormed up to his desk, but he finished reading whatever paper was in front of him before even bothering to look up. If he was surprised by her presence, he didn’t show it.
Clearly, Chase had been right about the whole no doctor group session being a set-up. Louisa might contest that everything wasn’t about her, but more often than not, it was.
"Live in the moment… you know that hippie bullshit you're always talking about?" she said, jumping right into it.
Dr. Matteo raised an eyebrow and waited for her to continue.
He didn't have to wait long.
"It's not about that, is it? I mean it is, but it isn't."
Her words were even confusing herself, so when Dr. Matteo suggested that she take a seat, Chase didn’t hesitate.
"I used to think that was all about the fact that I can’t change the past or the future. But… you know when you told me that my life could be distilled down to three things: drugs, sex, and my job?"
This time, her words elicited a reaction from Dr. Matteo. Chase got the impression that the doctor had hoped she’d forgotten all about that.
Well, aren’t we stuck in the past, Kimosabe?
"I didn't mean—"
Chase shook her head.
"It's not about the present, not really; it’s all about control, isn't it? It's always been about control. You encourage me to live in the moment because that’s the only thing I can control. What happened in the past is already done, and the future is unpredictable. But I can control what happens right now."
Chase paused to take a breath. She knew that Dr. Matteo was doing the Stitts thing again, letting her ramble, but she was oddly excited about her revelation and couldn’t stop.
"And that's why I use, why I inject heroin. Whenever I’m overwhelmed, whenever there’s shit going on in my life that I can’t control, I shoot up. Same with having sex with other men. Again, trying to regain control."
Another deep breath.
"And my work? Same thing. I can’t control the crime or the actions of the perpetrator, but I can control the end result. And a case will always come to a conclusion. Even with—” Georgina, she almost said, but caught herself— “the tough cases, I carry them out to the end.”
When she was finally done, she looked across the table at Dr. Matteo expectantly. All of the pieces fit, all of the psychobabble she’d overheard over the past three months finally made sense to her. Truth be told, she hadn’t even been listening, but her subconscious…
Ah, except for that.
She had no control over that; what happened to her when she’d first touched the corpses in Alaska and had progressed to touching living people, like Petra, and somehow becoming them.
Stitts might be convinced that this was just her subconscious acting up, but the more vivid and real these visions, or whatever they were, became, Chase was beginning to have doubts.
"Chase, this whole lack of control issue goes back further than when you took your first hit. It goes all the way back to the day that you were taken, the day…” he smiled and interlaced his fingers. “… well, a long time. But understanding why you do the things you do, why you are so desperate for control, isn’t enough.”
Chase felt herself becoming frustrated again.
So much for my great revelation. I guess there’s going to be no sweet sixteen party for me after all.
“It’s not?”
“No,” Dr. Matteo continued, “it’s not. The thing is, it is inevitable that there will be many facets of your life that are outside of your control. Moreover, there are going to be times when you shouldn’t have control. You need to allow the ones you trust to take over once in a while. To truly get better, Chase, you need to willingly relinquish control.”
Things had taken an unexpected darker turn, once again throwing Chase into discomfort.
"The people I trust? How can I trust anyone, when they always fuck me in the end? Doesn’t it just make me an idiot, a lackey, a goddamn Pollyanna, to trust people who have already lied to me?"
Dr. Matteo shook his head.
"No, Chase, that doesn’t make you an idiot or any of those things. What it does make you, however, is human. See, the thing is, when you always need to be in control, the consequences of your decisions are severe. If anything happens, it becomes your fault, because you’ve tricked yourself into believing that you were in control of everything. I won’t deny that what happened to you and your family is horrible. But none of it was your fault. You’ve punished yourself for years for something that you did when you were a child. Think about it… are you really responsible for running away? For being so absolutely terrified that your autonomic nervous system took over, your flight impulse kicked in, and you ran?”
Chase wiped tears from her cheeks and shrugged.
“It is my fault,” she whispered.
Dr. Matteo leaned forward even further.
“No, Chase, it’s not. You were a kid. It’s not your fault, it’s not your sister’s fault, and it’s not your parents’ fault. All this time you’ve been struggling to forgive yourself, but you don’t have to; because it’s not your fault.”
Chase was sobbing again. Only this time, to her surprise, these weren’t tears of pain or frustration or guilt. They were
something else. Tears of… what, exactly?
Acceptance? Understanding? Joy?
Maybe I have been doing this all wrong, she thought with a deep, shuddering breath. Maybe I don't have to be the person I was before. Maybe I can start all over again.
Dr. Matteo suddenly reached out and almost put his hand on top of hers.
Chase instinctively pulled back.
If she were to become someone new, she was going to have to stop having those damn visions, that was for sure.
“Chase, you can start again. I’ve seen it. I’ve done it.”
Chase nodded and leaned back in her chair.
“Maybe… maybe I can. Do you think… do you have some gloves I can borrow?”
Chapter 16
As soon as the officiant said his final words and the casket started to lower into the ground, Stitts turned his back on his mother and lit a cigarette.
He’d been so concerned with Chase that he hadn’t paid attention to Mrs. Torts when the kind woman had told him that his mother’s condition had deteriorated.
She died two days after the message that Stitts never even bothered replying to.
The people who were there in the end—Belinda, a few friends, a woman that used to do business with the family—told Stitts that it didn’t matter, that she was barely lucid.
But they were only being polite. Just like the doctors had lied when they said it was old age, a weak heart, general poor health that led to her demise.
His mom knew that he wasn’t there, and she’d died because she had abused opioids for decades.
And he'd enabled her.
With a heavy sigh, Stitts used the butt of one cigarette to light the next. As he did, someone approached from behind.
"Got one for me?"
Stitts turned and was surprised to see that the question had come from his father. The man had barely changed over the years; sure, his hair was a little lighter, the skin on his cheeks a little looser, but not like Mom. He looked ten to fifteen years younger than she had near the end.
Stitts pulled a cigarette out and offered it to his dad. Then he handed over the lighter.
"I love your mother very much," the man said as he lit up.
Stitts nodded and turned his eyes to the sky above.
It was true, he knew; his dad loved his mom. But the things she’d done… she’d stolen his prescription pad so many times and forged his name that it was a surprise the man still had his medical license. Stitts didn’t blame him for cutting the ties. He could only lie so many times to protect her before placing them all in jeopardy.
"Hey, Dad?" Stitts asked quietly.
"Yeah?"
"You remember when you were an intern in Tennessee? When those girls went missing?"
The pause that followed extended for so long that Stitts was forced to turn to make sure that his father hadn’t walked off.
“Shit, you okay?”
His father was crying. Stitts had never seen his father cry; not ever.
The man wiped his face.
“Sorry.”
The comment confused Stitts.
What is he sorry for? For crying? For what happened to Mom? For what he did to Chase?
Stitts took another drag. He knew that this was probably the worst possible place and the worst possible time to be asking this question, but he couldn’t help it.
He had to know.
"Do you remember?”
Dr. Ben Stitts flicked his barely smoked cigarette to the grass and shook his head.
"No," he said, but Stitts instantly knew that his dad was lying.
And Stitts was surprisingly fine with this. After all, he knew what the truth could do to someone.
It could tear you apart.
He didn't blame his dad for what happened to Chase any more than he blamed the man for what happened to his mom.
A curt nod and his dad started to walk away. But he only made it three or four steps before turning and walking back up to Stitts. The man’s face was red, and he was still crying. At first, Stitts wasn’t sure what to do. A moment later, he hugged his father back.
Who is this man? Stitts wondered. First the apology, then the tears, now this? What's next? He’s gonna tell me he loves me?
But Dr. Ben Stitts didn't say I love you. Instead, he said something else; something that perhaps carried more weight.
"I should’ve never let your mother go," he whispered. "I should've been there for her. Jeremy, if you really love somebody, don't ever let them go. Not ever. Protect them, nurture them, help them, but don’t let them go."
Chapter 17
"I'm going to be honest with you, Jeremy, I don't think it's a good idea."
Stitts reached into his pocket and caressed the pack of cigarettes inside.
"Shouldn’t we leave it up to her? Of all people, I’d think that she would want to make that decision—well, every decision, really. I mean, I'm just saying that she can come back to work. Eventually, she’ll need to work, right?"
Stitts cringed, hoping that the words didn’t sound as desperate and defensive to Dr. Matteo as they did to himself. Not to mention it was a lie; Chase had poker money stashed away, and if that ran out, she’d proven capable of hanging with the best at the poker tables in Vegas.
She didn’t have to work.
Dr. Matteo caressed his bald forehead. Twice the man looked like he was going to say something but decided against it.
The longer the silence went on for, the more Stitts started to doubt himself.
Was this the right thing? Was he doing what was in Chase's best interest by inviting her back into the FBI, or was this just what he wanted? What he needed?
"You think you know Chase. I thought I knew Chase. But I don’t even think she knows herself. At least not before she came here this time around. She’s changed, and I think she wants to change. I’m not just talking about giving up the drugs, either, though that’s part of it. I’m talking about becoming a different, better person. I know you care about her, and I do too, but, as much as it pains me to say, maybe it's best if we just let her go."
The candid reply surprised Stitts. It was no secret, even prior to this recent admission, that Dr. Matteo had a soft spot for Chase. The man was one of the few who knew everything that she'd been through, and while he’d probably heard dozens of similar stories over the years, there was no denying that she was unique.
Chase was unique because of what happened to her at the fair. She was unique because of what happened at the hospital.
The shock therapy. The rewiring of her brain. The guilt. The pleasure. The pain.
"I don't know… I don't know if I can do that," Stitts replied under his breath.
Dr. Matteo leaned forward.
"I can’t tell you what to do, and I can’t say for certain that getting her job back is a bad thing. I’ll leave it up to you, Jeremy. But, whatever you decide, make sure that you’re doing it for her.”
Stitts nodded and held out his hand.
“Thank you, Dr. Matteo. Thank you for everything you’ve done for Chase.”
They shook hands then, but when Stitts tried to pull away, the doctor held fast.
“If you ever want to talk, Jeremy—not about Chase, but about you—please don’t hesitate.”
Stitts swallowed hard and pulled his hand back.
“Thanks,” he said awkwardly then left the man’s office.
Me? I don’t need therapy. What I need is my partner back, he thought as he started down the hall toward Chase's room.
But his certainty waned when he saw Chase sitting on her cot from across the hall, a book in her lap.
Stitts did a double-take; it was Chase, only different.
For one, she had a glow to her cheeks that he’d never seen before. Stitts always thought of her as pretty—most everyone did—but now she looked beautiful. Naturally so. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, her outfit was a plain gray tracksuit, and her dark hair was pulled up in a messy bun.
And yet her appearance gave him pause.
Dr. Matteo was right, he thought, she has changed. Maybe it is best if she… if we… all just move on.
Breathing heavily, Stitts bowed his head and hurried past her room without stopping.
Dirty Money (A Chase Adams FBI Thriller Book 5) Page 5
