Redemption (Desire Never Dies)

by Clara Grace Walker

  “Good luck to you,” Nick said and headed off with Rory.

  Within minutes he found himself in room 122, done in shades of aquamarine and beige and looking very much like a comfortable hotel room. Rory stood just inside the door, his burly arms relaxed at his sides. “Thanks for showing me to my room,” Nick said, expecting the guy to leave. But he didn’t. He continued to stand there with such a blank look on his face Nick found it unnerving. Was he expecting a tip? Nick tried speaking to Rory again, making his wishes clearer this time. “I appreciate your help, but I’d like to unpack and rest a bit.”

  Rory remained lodged in the doorway. “I need to take your bag and put it in storage until you check out. And we need to go over the schedule and the rules.”

  Tingles of suspicion raced through Nick. He tightened his grip on his suitcase, thinking of his spy gadgets packed inside. “I beg your pardon.”

  “Any items patients bring with them are kept in storage until they leave,” Rory explained. “We find our program works better if patients are fully immersed in the CRC lifestyle and not bothered by outside distractions.”

  “And what do you propose I wear until I check out?”

  Rory pointed toward the closet. “You’ll find a complete CRC wardrobe waiting for you in the closet. Underwear and t-shirts are in the dresser.”

  “That explains why they asked me for my clothing sizes on the phone.”

  Rory never cracked a smile. “It’s a service we provide to all our patients.”

  Nick didn’t like what he was hearing. Not one bit. Taking away a person’s wardrobe and replacing it with some standardized uniform was a way of stripping away a person’s identity. His fingers already itched to get to a keyboard and start writing his exposé, but for the moment he guessed he’d better play along, or his exposé was going to be pretty damn short. “Why don’t we go over the rules and the schedule?”

  Rory nodded. “Let’s go over the schedule first.” He grabbed the folder Nick had left on a bare writing desk and pulled a sheet of paper from it. “I’ll go over this quickly and you can look at it if you have questions later on.”

  “Fair enough.” He had questions alright. Just not any he thought the folks at CRC were going to answer.

  “The waking bell rings at six. You’ll have five minutes to get up, change into your gym clothes and get to the gym for your morning workout.”

  Nick was an early riser. So far, so good.

  “Morning exercise lasts until seven. Then you’ll have half an hour to shower, get dressed and get to the cafeteria for breakfast. The morning meal lasts until eight thirty, followed by individual therapy sessions. You’ll have forty minutes with your therapist and the remaining time to attend CRC lifestyle classes and relax.”

  Taking time out for some good, old-fashioned brainwashing, he saw. “What comes next?”

  “Lunch is served at eleven forty-five and ends at twelve thirty. Group therapy starts at twelve forty-five. You’ll have additional relaxation time following group therapy.” Rory paused. “There’s a library shelved with copies of Shirley’s books and CRC testimonials if you’re interested in reading.”

  Only as research. “I’ll be sure to check them out.”

  “Good.” Rory almost cracked a smile. “Dinner is served at five and ends at six, and medical evaluations are given between six and seven. Family visits are from seven to eight, and meds are given at eight. Lights out at nine sharp.”

  “Meds?” He couldn’t imagine any reputable place treating addicts with meds.

  Rory barely blinked. “Only if Dr. Belanger says you need them. Can we go over the rules now?”

  “Sure.”

  Rory put down the schedule and grabbed another pamphlet from the folder. “The first and most important rule is other than your family visits, there will be no outside communication.”

  “What?” Nick’s thoughts went instantly to Danny and Sarge. He’d expected to maintain contact with them.

  “No outside communication.”

  Rory managed to rouse Nick’s ire, despite repeating the words calmly and without emotion. A thousand thoughts raced through his brain. It was probably a damn good thing Jamie had insisted on coming after all. He’d have to rely on her to keep in touch with Danny and Sarge.

  “That means phones, laptop, iPods, or any other electronic devices.” Rory continued on calmly, as if the rules made perfect sense and should be expected. “There is also no smoking, no drinking, no illegal drug use or unauthorized medications.”

  That much seemed like a no-brainer.

  “There is also no fraternization with other CRC patients, no watching TV, no reading newspapers.”

  “Wait a minute,” Nick interrupted. “Do you realize I own two newspapers?”

  “No,” he replied in a completely monotone voice. “What does that have to do with the rules?”

  Frustration rose steadily in Nick’s gut. “I need to read my newspapers to keep my business running smoothly.”

  Rory never flinched. “You’ll have to take that up with Shirley.”

  “I will.” Though he suspected he wouldn’t have much luck.

  “In the meantime, unless you are excused by Dr. Belanger for medical reasons, participation in all daily events is required. No outside food is to be brought into the facility. You are not allowed to leave CRC treatment grounds. There is to be no discussion of treatment techniques with anyone who is not a patient and yearly lifestyle refresher courses are required for all patients after discharge.”

  “Required?” Nick raised an eyebrow.

  Rory nodded, still unflinching. “It’s in the contract you signed at registration.”

  Nick nodded wordlessly. He’d like to see them try and enforce that one. “Is that all?”

  “Yes. Like I said, everything’s in your intake packet…in case you forget.”

  One last nod and he was out the door, wheeling away Nick’s carefully-packed suitcase. Nick sat at the writing desk, drumming his fingers on the bare, wooden surface. He hoped he hadn’t just bitten off more than he could chew.

  Chapter 18

  Group therapy brought Mindy two surprises, both of them unpleasant.

  “Nicholas Beck. Unbelievable!” He sat in a chair facing her in the circle, wearing a white CRC polo shirt and sweat pants, looking healthy, smug, and not at all like someone battling addiction. Next to him sat Vince. What the hell was he doing here? Shock stole the words from her voice. She ached to imagine what Earl would think when he saw Vince. He’d probably leave on the spot. She turned to Belinda. “Are you fucking kidding me? First I have to put up with Darla Arnold, and now Vince Allan and Nicholas Beck? Are you trying to give me treatment or drive me insane?”

  Belinda looked baffled and scratched her bun. “I’ll remind you we don’t swear at CRC, Miss LePage. As for the new patients, you don’t get to choose who comes to CRC for treatment.”

  “I don’t care. I want moved to another group.”

  Darla snickered and shrugged her shoulders. “Fine by me. Let’s give Mindy her very own group. Then she can’t bother the rest of us.”

  Belinda shook her head. “There are no other groups. Every patient here goes to the same group at the same time. Would you like to tell the group what your problem is with Mr. Allan or Mr. Beck?”

  “You mean aside from the fact I’ve spent the last two years getting drunk with Vince? And him.” She pointed at Nick. “He can drop off the face of the earth for all I care.”

  Like clockwork came the chant. “Purge your soul. Cleanse your soul. Heal your soul.”

  “Nick Beck’s a dirt-digging slime ball,” she spat. “He thinks it’s perfectly okay to make money by splashing people’s personal problems all over his trashy tabloid.”

  Nick registered no emotion to her charge. He looked straight at her with nothing more than a curious glint to his gaze. “My papers are not the only ones to have reported on your personal problems, Mindy. If you didn’t want your name in the p
ress, you shouldn’t have chosen a career as a pop singer and hired a publicist to issue press releases for the last seven years.”

  How often had she heard justifications like that? “A person should be able to have a career without giving up their private life.”

  “You want a private life? Go take up typing and become a secretary.”

  “That’s bullshit.” She paused. “I mean baloney. You should stick to reporting on my career and leave my personal life out of it.”

  “You didn’t mind having your personal life reported on when you were out cavorting with Earl Grayson.” Nick sounded as unemotional as a CRC zombie bot. “You were only too happy to share your private life with the press then. I seem to remember a five-page spread on the two of you in Us magazine. You don’t get to have it both ways, Princess. You want the rewards of being famous? Then you’ve got to take the good with the bad.”

  She glowered at him. “You’re just trying to excuse what you’re doing.”

  “Really?” He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “Seems to me the person most interested in excuses is you. Your only problem with me is I tell the truth, even if it’s a truth you don’t want to hear. The only person responsible for the mess you’ve made of your life is you.” He then smiled and nodded his head in Vince’s direction. “And maybe this guy.”

  “Who? Me?” Vince pointed at himself, mouth open. “Don’t go blaming her shit on me, man. I’m done with that broad. I’m just here to work on myself. Get my career going good again.” He paused, scratching his head. “No, wait. I mean I want us to get hooked back up if she gets her shit together.”

  “Going well,” Nick said.

  “Huh?” Vince continued to look dumbfounded.

  “You mean, you want to get your career going well,” Nick explained. “You might as well start by using proper grammar.”

  “Fuck you,” Mindy said. “And fuck CRC’s no swearing rule, too. Who made you the fucking grammar police?”

  “Oh grow up,” Darla chimed in.

  “You grow up.” Mindy leveled a scowl in her direction. “It’s not like you know what it’s like to have your private life exposed to the public all the time.” She pointed at Nick. “You either, Mr. Busybody.”

  “Wrong on both counts,” Nick said. “Darla’s father reported mercilessly on my late wife’s murder. And both of my papers have done stories on Darla, many of them less-than-flattering.”

  “Exactly,” Darla agreed. “And I’m not the least bit mad at him. Nick’s a nice guy. He’s just doing his job, you know.”

  “Well not everyone takes his work with a grain of salt the way you do. After all, his wife was murdered by a woman whose daughter committed suicide over a story he ran in his stupid paper.”

  “That’s a huge over-simplification of what happened,” Nick snapped, emotion coloring his face at last. His eyes blazed with anger. “Taralynn Clarke killed herself for a lot of reasons having nothing to do with my story, and no one could have predicted it. Least of all me.”

  Scott Tyler cleared his throat tentatively. “My parents said she killed herself because her parents let her do whatever she wanted, and think she could have whatever wanted, and she lost it when she found out that wasn’t true. And her parents both turned out to be nuts. Maybe she inherited mental problems from them.”

  Mindy had been busy with her burgeoning career when Andy Clarke tried to kill Scott’s mother. She recalled it vaguely, like some movie she’d seen years ago, but hadn’t fallen in love with. The murder of Nick’s wife, however, she remembered vividly. It happened right around the time she met Earl. While his life had been falling apart she’d been swimming in a sea of happiness. She’d actually felt sorry for him then, losing someone he cared so much about, and thinking how crushed she’d be if anything ever happened to Earl. Going back to those four-year-old memories brought tears to her eyes. Suddenly everyone was staring at her and she wished she could just disappear. She heard the first words of the chant start up.

  “Purge your-”

  “Don’t bother,” she interrupted. “I’m not purging my soul, cleansing my soul, or doing anything else with it. Just leave me the hell alone.” As she spoke, however, she realized one disconcerting fact. Aside from Earl, Nick and Vince were the only two people she knew for sure had nothing to do with a dead body being carried into the woods. If she wanted any help finding out what was going on in Psycholand, she was going to have to trust one of them.

  Neither option was great. Getting too close to Vince would only upset Earl. Part of her supposed that was exactly what she should do. Chase him off. Keep him from trying to pry out secrets that would only make him hate her. But seeing the hurt in his eyes if she spurned him for Vince again. She just didn’t have the heart to do it.

  Then there was Nick. Damn if he wasn’t always looking for dirt to dig up on people. She’d sooner trust a rattlesnake.

  The buzzer sounded an end to therapy and Mindy gratefully stood, filing out of the room with everyone else. She’d just started down the hall when Vince caught up to her, grabbing her by the arm.

  “Hey,” he whispered. “I need to be sure we’re clear on something.”

  She tensed, removing his fingers from her around her flesh. “I’m not interested in hooking back up with you, Vince. I don’t know what we had these past two years, but it wasn’t love.”

  He gave her a disgusted look. “You think I don’t know that? I know you’re still in love with fucking Earl Grayson. And I’m not in love with your ass either. You were supposed to help jump start my career. Which you totally didn’t do.”

  “Then what was all that nonsense in therapy?”

  “Anthony said I need to make it look like I’m trying to work shit out with you, but we are not getting back together. So I’m going to try to win you back, and you’re going to tell me no. Got it? ‘Cause I want my fucking record deal.”

  “Trust me, Vince, telling you no is something I’ll have no problem doing.”

  She walked off down the hall, shaking her head. Clearly Anthony had some crackpot publicity scheme cooked up. And she wanted no part of it. That did, however, answer her question for her. She was going to have to swallow her disgust and try to trust Nick.

  Chapter 19

  Nick followed Rory down the hall, silently cursing himself. He’d let the therapy session get to him. Having Taralynn thrown in his face that way knocked him off balance. Aside from Jamie, he’d never told anyone how badly he felt about her suicide; the burden of regret he carried over a story he wished he’d never printed. Reacting to Mindy’s accusation, however, may have tipped someone off. He couldn’t let these CRC kooks know anything personal about him, and not just because he didn’t trust them. He needed to keep a low profile. Give out superficial details about himself and his alleged problems, and nothing more. His job was to gather information, not disseminate it.

  That thought steeled him, the way work always did. Steady now, following Rory, he entered the rec room for a little relaxation and spotted Darla squinting down at a cue ball as she lined up a shot. Of everyone here, he pegged her most likely to help. Regina had once been her best friend. He approached her with a smile. “Pool’s generally more fun when you have an opponent.”

  She looked up and smiled. “Not the way I play. Care to give me a lesson?”

  He grabbed a pool stick from the rack, chalked it and leaned against the table, counting four balls missing. “Looks like you’ve kept things even so far. You want stripes or solids?”

  She pointed her stick at the five ball lined up to the right of a side pocket. “I was going to try and sink this one, so I guess I’ll keep the solids.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” He smiled and glanced casually around the room. Security guards, dressed in black CRC polo shirts and slacks, and notably armed, milled around the exits. He found the lack of personal identity creepy. That’s where the brainwashing started. With the clothing. With organizing people into groups. W
ith patients visible at a glance. This place wasn’t a rehab facility. It was a cult.

  Darla lined up her shot, clipped the five ball hard on the left and sent it flying down the table toward the corner pocket. She stood, watched it fall into the net and frowned.

  “Problem?” Nick asked.

  She shrugged, sending her shoulder-length, blonde curls bobbing. “I guess not, since it went in, but I was aiming for the side pocket.”

  Nick laughed. “Of course you were. Here, let me help you. Go ahead and line up a shot at the one ball.”

  She leaned across the pool table and Nick stretched out behind her. Though the staff all appeared to be out of earshot, he felt the need to be cautious.

  Darla peeked up over her shoulder, looking at him expectantly. “Well?”

  He hesitated only a moment. “What do you know about Regina’s stay here?” He whispered, lining her stick up at a right angle between the cue ball and the one ball.

  She looked back up at him and frowned. “Why?”

  “Her mother has some questions about her death.”

  “Like why they couldn’t keep her from killing herself?”

  Nick put a finger to his lips. “Do you think she was unhappy enough to have killed herself?”

  I don’t know.” Darla shrugged. “We didn’t hang out much after Rod and I got together.”

  She didn’t seem to care much either. He’d expected a little more concern on her part. “Do me a favor and keep your eyes and ears open, okay? If you hear anything about Regina, let me know.”

  “Sure, Nick.” She smiled coyly at him. “Pretty sure I can help you out. At least where the men are concerned.”

  Nick frowned. Darla may have confined herself to one man since meeting Rod, but she hadn’t changed her spots completely. He needed to find a better ally. Glancing around the room, he noticed Mindy standing alone near the exit, staring at him. She had a thoughtful look on her face; one he’d seen many times when interviewing subjects on the verge of spilling their guts.