“But before all that, he was wonderful to me, and thrilled about the baby. We didn’t have fertility treatment by the way, it happened on its own. We knew that I was ovulating, he got me drunk, and we had sex without protection. He knew what he was doing.” Bartlett was convinced of that by now, she was preaching to the choir. “And it worked. Anyway, for six months everything was wonderful, and after the miscarriage, it was fine again for the summer. But now, he’s angry at me all the time, or most of the time. Sometimes he’s absolutely wonderful to me again, and then he gets vicious. He’s drinking more than he used to. I think he’s pretty stressed about the lawsuit, and he’s not writing. And he’s really angry that I’ve been postponing the wedding. All of a sudden, we’re fighting all the time, and he’s always pushing me about something. He never did that before. It was perfect, he was wonderful to me, and he still is sometimes, but it’s bad more than it’s good now. And sometimes it changes so often and so suddenly, he goes from bad to good to bad to good again, my head is spinning. By the time I left Dublin a week ago, I was so confused, I didn’t know what to think. And he kept telling me I was going crazy. I started to believe him.”
“That’s what he wants you to believe. I can tell from talking to you, Hope, you’re not crazy. But I’m equally sure he is. I’m no psychiatrist, but this guy is a textbook case in sociopathy. This is very scary stuff, particularly trying to brainwash and confuse you. When did he ask you for the money?”
“A few weeks ago. He just came right out and asked for it. I said no, and we’ve been fighting ever since. It concerned me, so when I came to New York in November to do some work, I had my agent hire someone to do an investigation.” She sighed then, and told him what the report contained. “His brother thinks he’s a sociopath. Even his saying he was an only child wasn’t true, he had three brothers. His mother was a maid, not an aristocrat, his father died in a bar fight and wasn’t a doctor. Absolutely nothing he told me about his history is true, which is how I know the house in Ireland isn’t his ancestral home. And everybody else who’s ever known him says he’s a pathological liar.” That much they both knew was true from what she had told him so far. “The rest of the report came yesterday, and it’s no better. His wife died in an accident. He was driving drunk. He had told me she was alone in the car and died. The report says that he was with her, she was alive at the time of the accident. He had a concussion and didn’t call for help and she died. Although to be fair, the medical report said she would have died anyway.” Even now, she was trying to be kind to Finn. Robert Bartlett considered it a bad sign. She was still in love with him, and hadn’t fully assimilated the new information she’d gotten. It was too shocking, and hard for her to accept. “He got a suspended prison sentence for manslaughter and five years’ probation for killing the other driver,” she went on. “And there are some other minor upsetting stories. His wife’s parents think he was responsible for her death and wanted her money. He tried to get it, and what she left their son. And now he’s after my money. Indirectly, he has been responsible for the death of two women. His wife’s death in the car accident and the earlier suicide. He has lied to me about everything. I just don’t know what to believe about him anymore.” Her voice shook on the last words. Robert Bartlett would have been stunned by what she had just said to him, except that he had heard it before, and it was the nature of a sociopath and his victim. The confusing evidence and contradiction between their calculating viciousness and their extreme attention, kindness, and seduction paralyzed their victims, who wanted to believe that the good parts were true and the bad ones only a mistake. But with more and more evidence, it became harder to believe. He could tell that Hope was at that stage. She was waking up and starting to see Finn for what he was, but, understandably, didn’t want to believe it. It was hard to accept all of that about someone you loved, and who had been so loving at one time.
“I don’t want you to be his next victim,” Robert said in a sobering tone. She already was in many ways, but he was seriously afraid that if she crossed him in some serious way, or became useless to him, Finn might kill her, drive her to suicide, or cause an accident to happen.
“Neither do I. That’s why I called you,” Hope said in a heartbroken voice.
“You know, what you saw in the beginning, when he was so wonderful to you, is called ‘mirroring,’ when a sociopath will ‘mirror’ back to you everything you need and want and want them to be. And then later, much later, the truth of who they are comes out,” Robert told her. “What do you think you want to do, Hope?” he asked her then gently. He felt deeply sorry for her, and understood better than most people how hard it was to face this kind of thing and take action.
“I don’t know what I want to do,” she admitted. “I know that sounds crazy. It was so wonderful for nine months, and suddenly all this awful stuff is happening. No one had ever been as nice to me, or as loving. I just want it to go back to the way it was in the beginning.” But she was trying to raise the Titanic, and she was beginning to see it. She just didn’t want to believe it. Not yet. She wanted Finn to prove all of it wrong. She wished she’d never gotten the report and still believed the dream. She wanted to but didn’t. But she felt she had to go back and see for sure. Anyone listening to her would have thought she was insane, except Robert Bartlett. She had been lucky to find him.
“That’s not going to happen, Hope,” he said gently. “The man you saw in the beginning and fell in love with doesn’t exist. The real one is a monster, without a heart or a conscience. I could be wrong, of course, and he could just be a very troubled guy, but I think we both know what we’re seeing. That man in the beginning was an act he put on for you. That act is over. This is the third act, where the villain goes in for the kill.” It was the theme of everything Finn wrote. “You can go back and take another look to be sure, no one can stop you, but you could be putting yourself at risk. Maybe great risk. If you do go back, you’ve got to be ready to get out fast, and run like hell if you smell danger. You can’t stick around to negotiate with him. I don’t usually tell people this, but I’ve been there. I was married to an Irish girl, the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen, and the sweetest. I believed every word she told me, and her story sounds a lot like Finn’s. She had a miserable childhood, her parents were both drunks, and she wound up in foster homes where people did awful things to her. She had the face of an angel and the heart of a devil. I defended her on manslaughter charges a few years after I got out of law school. I had absolutely no doubt of her innocence then. She killed her boyfriend and claimed he tried to rape her, and there was evidence to support it. I believed her. I got her off, but today I wouldn’t tell you the same thing. Eventually, she left me, took every penny I had, broke my heart, and took our kids with her. I married her right after I defended her.
“Eventually she tried to kill me. She came back during the night and stabbed me, and tried to make it look like an intruder, but I knew it wasn’t. I knew it was her. And I still went back to her two more times, trying to make it work, ignoring everything I knew. I loved her, I was addicted to her, and all I wanted to do was save our marriage and keep my kids. She eventually kidnapped them to Ireland seven years ago, and by some miracle they needed someone to head up the Dublin office at the time, so I jumped at it, to be close to my kids. I couldn’t force her to come back to the States. She’s very clever, and thank God, my kids are okay. The youngest one just left for college in the States two months ago, and I’m going back to the New York office this spring. Nuala has married two men since me, both for money, and one of them died two years ago, from a medication he was violently allergic to, which she administered to him, and convinced the judge at the inquest that she didn’t. She inherited all his money. And she’s going to do it to the man she’s currently married to or some other guy one of these days. She has absolutely no conscience. She belongs in prison, but I don’t know if she’ll ever get there. She is so profoundly disturbed that she is willing to cross any lin
e and has a deep need to get back at the world for what was done to her. No one is safe from her.
“So I know what you’re dealing with here, and I think I know how you feel. It took me years to understand that the good Nuala was only an act she put on for me, but it was so goddamn convincing that I always believed her, no matter what lies she told me or what awful things she did. The kids eventually moved in with me, which didn’t bother her. People like that don’t make terrific parents. Their children are either accessories to their crimes, or their victims. She doesn’t even see my girls now, and I don’t think she cares. She’s busy spending her late husband’s money, the guy she killed by giving him the wrong antibiotic out of the medicine chest. It stopped his heart cold as she knew it would, and she waited an hour to call the paramedics because she ‘was so upset’ and claimed she was sound asleep and didn’t hear him dying. And they believed her. No one has ever cried as hard as she did at the investigation. She was inconsolable. She married her defense attorney, again, and one of these days, she’ll do the same thing to him or someone else. But every man she’s ever left, except the dead ones, have mourned her. And so did I.
“It took me years to get over her, give up on her, and not give a damn anymore. Until then, I went back a hundred times for more. So, I get it. If you still need to turn the boat around, no matter what the evidence, no one can stop you. You have what you saw for nine months, and felt for him, and then you have that investigator’s report and what everyone who knows him, and has experienced him, said. But if you go back, Hope, be smart. With people like that, when he turns on you, all you have time to do is run. That’s the best advice I can give you. If you go back to him for another round, wear your track shoes, listen closely, trust your instincts, and if something happens that worries you or scares the shit out of you, trust yourself and get the hell out. Fast. Don’t wait to pack a suitcase.” It was the best advice he could have given her, based on his own experience, and she was stunned. It was a terrifying story. But so was Finn’s.
“He’s all I have now,” she said sadly, “and he was so good to me for all those months. Paul was the only family member I had left, and now he’s gone, and so’s my daughter.” She was crying as she spoke.
“That’s the way these people work. They prey on the naïve, the innocent, the lonely, the vulnerable, and the solitary. They can’t work their voodoo in a group with people watching them. They always isolate their victims, like he has you, and they pick them well. He knew that all you had was your ex-husband, who wasn’t around anymore and was very sick. So he got you over to Ireland, where you have no family, no friends, no one to look out for you. You’re his ideal victim. Just be aware of it when you come back. When are you coming?” He didn’t ask her if but when. He knew she would. He had done the same thing, and he could tell she wasn’t ready to let go yet. She needed another dose of Finn to shock her, because the evidence of the good Finn, and the memory of it, was so strong. It was a perfect example of cognitive dissonance, two sets of evidence in direct conflict with each other, all the love they lavished on people at first, and from time to time later, and the brutal, unconscionable cruelty when they took off the mask, and then put it back on again, and confused their victims even further, and tried to convince them they were insane. Many sociopaths caused suicides as a result, when perfectly sane victims couldn’t figure out what was happening to them, and got pushed over the edge. He didn’t want that happening to Hope. His only goal now was to be there for her, keep her alive, and help her get out when she was ready, which he could tell she wasn’t yet. He knew only too well that only someone who had been there would understand. And he had been.
Hope was deeply impressed by Robert’s story, his willingness to tell it to her, his honesty, and compassion for her dilemma and love for Finn. It was so hard to assimilate the evidence and the extreme contradiction between how he had treated her in the beginning and all she felt for him, and what everyone else said about him, and her own concerns about him now. It was the very definition of confusion and contradiction. And no one could understand it unless they had been in a similar situation themselves, as Robert had. Her willingness to go back and look again was incomprehensible to Mark.
“Thank you for not telling me how stupid I am for going back. I think I keep hoping he’ll be the way he was in the beginning.”
“We all hope that in matters of the heart. And more than likely, he will be, for a night at a time, or a few hours. He just won’t stay that way, because it’s all an act, and a way of getting what he wants. But if you get in his way, or don’t give it to him, you’re going to be in big trouble, and he’ll strike like lightning. Hopefully, the worst he’ll do is scare the shit out of you. Let’s try to keep it at that.” That was his only goal now. Hers was still the hope that Finn was what he had seemed, and would straighten up and treat her right. Robert knew there was no chance of that, but Hope had to experience it for herself. Maybe more than once. He hoped not. She was the classic victim of a sociopath. Isolated, confused, incredulous, vulnerable, inordinately hopeful, and not yet ready to believe the evidence at hand. “Why don’t you come and see me before you go back? You can stop in at my office on the way back to Russborough when you get to Dublin. I’ll give you all my numbers, we can have a cup of coffee, and then you can go back to Jack the Ripper.” He was teasing her and she laughed. It was not a pretty picture, and she felt a little foolish, but he was right. “I’d offer to come and see you at the house, but my guess is that that would get you in trouble. Most sociopaths are extremely jealous.”
“He is. He’s always accusing me of flirting with someone, even waiters in restaurants.”
“That’s about right. My wife was always accusing me of sleeping with my secretaries, the au pair, women I’d never even met, and eventually she started accusing me of sleeping with guys. I was constantly defending myself and trying to convince her that I wasn’t. As it turned out, she was.” It was projection at its best.
“I don’t think Finn cheats on me,” Hope said, sounding certain of it. “But he accuses me of sleeping with just about everyone in the village, including our workmen.”
“Try not to get him excited about anything for the moment, if you can help it. I know that’s hard. The accusations are never rational or based on fact, or rarely, unless you give him something to worry about.” But she didn’t sound like the type. She sounded honest, honorable, and straightforward, and she was feeling much better since their conversation, and no longer crazy. “My guess is that you’ll get into it with him over the money. That’s bound to be his number-one goal, and the wedding, and maybe a baby.” He didn’t tell her that most sociopaths were extremely sexual. Nuala had been the best thing in bed that had ever hit him. That was one of the many ways they got control of their victims. In his ex-wife’s case, she screwed them blind. So blind they didn’t know what hit them, and then she killed them. He had narrowly escaped that fate at her hands. A good therapist and his own common sense had saved him. And even though she was still in love with Finn and her illusion of him, Hope sounded sensible to him too. The truth was very hard to swallow and believe, and the dichotomy too extreme to make sense to a sane person, so she was giving him the benefit of the doubt, which their victims often did. It wasn’t stupidity on her part, just hope, naïvete, faith, and love, however undeserved.
As Hope thought about it while talking to him, she decided to fly back the next day, on the night flight she liked to take, which would put her in Dublin the following morning. And she liked the idea of seeing Robert Bartlett before she went back to the house. It would ground her. She made an appointment with him for ten o’clock that morning, after she got through immigration and customs, and came in from the airport.
“That’s fine. I’ll be clear all morning,” he assured her. And then he had another thought. “What do you want to do with that house when this is over, when that happens?” This wasn’t a divorce where she owed him a settlement to end it.
“I don’t know. I’ve thought about it, and I can’t decide.” She still hoped it wouldn’t come to that but was well aware now that it might, and had to give it some thought. “I could keep it and keep renting it to him, but I’m not sure I’d want to. It could turn out to be a link to him I don’t want. But I feel mean just throwing him out.” Robert knew it was all Finn deserved, but Hope clearly wasn’t there yet. And she still wished that would never happen, but Robert wanted to bring it up.
“You don’t need to worry about it now. Enjoy New York, and I’ll see you day after tomorrow.” She thanked him again and hung up. It was six-thirty in the morning by the time she finally went to bed, feeling calmer than she had in months. At least now she had a support system in Ireland, and Robert Bartlett clearly knew the subject. It sounded as though what he’d been through with his ex-wife was far worse. She was an extreme example of the breed, but with two women dead because of him, and a lifetime of lies, Finn wasn’t much better. Hope could see that. The sad thing was that in spite of all she knew about him now, she still loved him. She had believed everything that he had been to her in the beginning, and it was hard to give up that dream. She was deeply attached to him, particularly now with Paul gone. Finn really was the only person she had left in the world, which would make it that much harder to give him up. It would mean she was entirely alone for the first time in her life.
Matters of the Heart Page 23
