Pam

by Druga, Jacqueline

  “You look frazzled; are you okay?” I asked Pam as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat in my office.

  “Just nervous about meeting him. Did … did … you think about those papers I showed you yesterday?”

  I wanted to say ‘no’, that the entire time she was explaining them my mind slipped into my perverted state of fantasy. “Yes, but I’d like to see them again.”

  Pam nodded.

  See them again. The truth was I barely saw them at all. Immediately after my post-meeting indiscretion with the woman on Ninth Street, I called James.

  “You need to step out of the case, whatever it is,” he told me.

  “I can’t.” I shook my head. “There’s more to this.”

  “More to what?” he asked.

  “More to the story,” I said. “It isn’t just helping someone through her illness, there is a whole other story and I am obligated to see this through. To figure out what I believe is a mystery.”

  James leaned back in his chair. “Your fantasies consume you. You cannot possibly concentrate on what you need to do with them swirling in your mind. You will miss something. You will make a mistake. And at whose expense?”

  I adamantly disagreed. “No. No, I won’t. “

  “You’ll not hear something you’re supposed to hear, you may even do something you regret.”

  “Absolutely not. I have never crossed the line. Ever.”

  “There’s always a first.”

  “It won’t be with her,” I firmly stated.

  “You admitted that not only were you consumed with the case, but with the woman and her condition, and now she is playing into your own illness. Desmond, I urge you for the sake of this woman and her health, pass this case along.”

  “It’s not to that point yet. I can control it.”

  James had this annoying look on his face. Almost irritation. “If I see this getting the best of you, I will have no choice but to take charge and …”

  “No.” I held up my hand. “Listen, I have dealt with my own demons for a long, time. If … if it gets to that point, where reason and fantasy clash too much, I’ll come to you. I’ll hand you the case.”

  “Promise me,” James requested.

  “I promise.”

  I meant my promise to him. But I was hopeful because Pam was in the room several minutes and not a single sexual thought hit me. Perhaps, it was just a onetime thing. And maybe because it was out of the office where I saw her. It was conceivable that outside my office, I didn’t see her as a patient. The office was my sanctuary with her.

  Or so I thought.

  Truth was, I had missed things. Important things she had to share. I wouldn’t make that mistake again. I would look over the papers she wanted me to see.

  She slid a folder to me. “That’s what I printed. The ones I think she is connected to.”

  “Because of Richie?” I asked.

  “Yes. All these people died and I think she had something to do with it. Hell, maybe even Richie did too. That would explain why he lied about seeing me kill Mandy.”

  “It could.” I opened up the folder. Oddly enough, one of the first news stories was about an eighty-year-old woman who had fallen down the stairs and died. The story was more about how she had hundreds of thousands of dollars and donated it to the animal shelter. “What does an elderly woman’s death have to do with it?”

  “I think Sharon pushed her down the stairs.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she was Richie’s aunt. Sharon wanted Richie to have her money. She had been threatening to cut Richie out of her will and life because of his wayward ways. Sharon told me she was going to see the aunt. To explain that Richie needed her. And was going to emphasize it wasn’t about money.”

  “Why …” I questioned, “would Sharon go over there? A total stranger. Richie was your husband, not hers. Makes no sense. This is …. A year before you lost your family.”

  “Back then I thought it was because she was protecting me. She wasn’t a stranger to the aunt. She wasn’t. They went to the same hairdresser, they talked.”

  As much as I listened to her theory, it just didn’t ring a bell of truth to me. I looked at the story; it was clearly an accident. But I wasn’t going to push the issue. “Do you think she acted alone?”

  “It was one old woman down a flight of steps. How hard was it? However, I wouldn’t doubt, knowing know that they had an affair, that Richie knew. Him and Sharon.” She sighed out. “I just wish there was a way to prove it. Maybe if I could get her to confess.”

  “Sharon is hidden. A confession would be good. But impossible.”

  “She isn’t hidden. She called my son. She wants to get my son away from me,” Pam rebutted.

  “But she didn’t leave a contact number. Which tells me …”

  “I saw her.”

  Pam’s words shocked me. They sent a shudder of terror through me. “You saw Sharon.”

  “And spoke to her.” Pam shrugged. “She provoked me. Tested me. Argued with me. It was when I was in Willow Brook that I ran into her.”

  “My God,” I whispered. “She’s back? Do you think this is a chance meeting?”

  “I don’t know. But I’m keeping an eye out. I’ll be diligent.”

  I would be, too. I left my information at the television station. If Sharon wanted to be back in the picture, I hoped she contacted me as well.

  A knock at the door caused Pam to spin nervously in her chair and grab her stomach. “That’s him.”

  “It is.” I looked at the door and aimed my voice, lifting the volume. “Come in.”

  The door opened slowly.

  Justin stepped inside.

  Pam gasped, her hand shot to her mouth. Slowly she stood. Her eyes and focus never left the young man.

  “Pam, this is Justin. Justin … your mother.”

  They stepped to each other, staring. I suppose they wondered if they should shake hands or embrace, and they did both.

  The handshake appeared awkward and so did the embrace at first, then it was natural and the moment of first introduction and reunion became emotional.

  “I’ll give you two a moment.” Feeling they needed a moment alone, I stepped away from my desk and out of my office.

  I walked through the office manger’s area, to the front reception desk. I hadn’t updated my appointments for the next day and I thought I’d take a look.

  There were pink messages on the desk. Usually she stacked them there when they were urgent. Typically sales people calling. I lifted the stack and shuffled through. There were about ten. When I got to the last one, the stack slipped from my hand.

  I looked back toward my office door.

  A simple message. ‘Not Important’. Sharon Wilson called.

  My heart a hit hard beat as I wondered if Sharon Wilson was the same Sharon that Pam spoke of. There was no mention of her last name.

  I reached down to gather up the message slips that had fallen to the desk, and as I scooped them in my hand, I saw my appointment schedule for the next day. Penciled in at ten a.m. was the name Sharon Wilson. If it was Pam’s friend Sharon, I would find out soon enough.

  Chapter Twenty-Five – Sharon

  I got a bagel at the coffee shop. I needed to waste time before going to see the good doctor. I only hoped he wasn’t charging me; after all, he was seeking me out.

  I thought about what he would want and what my approach to him would be. And what I would say. A part of me thought he was going to ask about why I was calling Justin. After all, that was where he left the message for me.

  I sat in a hidden corner table, reading the newspaper. It was a small coffee shop. I had an hour to go until my appointment.

  Sitting there, sipping my coffee, savoring the bagel, I zoomed in to a conversation when I heard the words ‘chick that killed her kids’. I peered inconspicuously over my shoulder to the young girl ordering something at the coffee shop.

  “You didn’t say anything, did you?”
The clerk asked.

  “Hell, no. I knew she looked familiar, but I didn’t realize it was her until I saw a story on the news. The picture was old, but it was the same person.”

  “That’s freaky. She’s in Hartford.”

  “And coming to our library,” the young girl said.

  “You think she’ll be back?”

  “I don’t know. She’s been there twice.”

  “What are you going to do?” the clerk questioned.

  “My job. Try not to be scared. They did acquit her. I was looking it up. She was looking up unsolved murders.”

  “Stacy,” the clerk gasped out. “Maybe she knows who killed her kids and is just trying to prove it. You should help her, you’d be famous.”

  The girl nodded. “I may. I just have to figure out how to approach her about it. Also, maybe she’d be a great subject for my thesis.”

  “Oh my God. Yes. You’re smart.”

  I raised the newspaper, just in case I made my own trip to the library. But that would have to wait. I had to see Dr. Desmond Andrews first.

  The medical building was busy but I found Dr. Andrews’ office without any problems. I was only a few minutes early, and the woman looked oddly at me when I walked in. I was dressed up, wanting to make a decent impression on the doctor. I figured that if I looked professional and attractive, he would take me seriously, whatever the reason was he wanted to see me.

  She offered me a clipboard to fill out information.

  I declined and informed her that I wasn’t there as a patient, I was there at his request.

  Finally, she showed me into his office.

  “Please, have a seat.” He was turned away, focused on his computer. “I’ll be with you in a …” Finally he faced me. “Moment.” His word trailed.

  I don’t know why his reaction was as stammered as it was. Maybe I wasn’t what he expected. Although I had seen that look before, men usually gave that look when they felt an instant attraction.

  Aware I wasn’t a patient, he probably was attracted to me. That would be a grasping point if he was going to bothersome in my quest to keep Pam from her son and put her back where she belonged.

  I walked to the desk with a bright smile and extended my hand. “I’m Sharon.”

  He stood from his chair, reached out, and shook my hand. “Sharon. Sharon Wilson?”

  “Yes.” I cupped my other hand over his. “I have to tell you, when I found out a doctor was wanting me to call him, you are not what I expected.”

  “I don’t know how to take that ... but … please. Sit.”

  I did and crossed my legs. “Well.” I exhaled. “I’m here. What did you need?”

  He blinked a few times staring at me. “I’m sorry, I’m a little thrown. When I saw a Sharon Wilson in the appointment book, I wasn’t sure if you were the Sharon I left a message for at the station or a new patient.”

  “You left a message for me. Is there a reason?”

  “Yes. Yes. I wanted to talk to you about several things.”

  “Several?” I tilted my head. “Really? I’m a little shocked.”

  “Why is that?”

  “You left a message at the station. So when I called back about Justin, I figured that’s what you wanted to talk to me about.”

  “It is.”

  “And …. Seeing how you are a psychiatrist. You must be treating …. Pam. So what could you discuss with me that won’t be breaking doctor/patient confidentiality?”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “All right. I’m yours. Ask away.”

  He sat far back in his chair. I felt his eyes examine me. “Why are you calling the station for Justin and leaving messages for him to stay away from his mother?”

  “That’s self explanatory. He should stay away.”

  “If you really felt that strongly, why not leave a number?”

  “Because …. I didn’t want to.”

  “Fair enough. Can you elaborate more on why you think he should stay away from his mother?”

  I laughed. “Really, you’re joking. She’s a murderer.”

  “She was acquitted.”

  “She still did it and others.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I do. Has she not told you how close we were all her life?”

  He nodded. “Yes, she did.”

  “So I know everything she did.”

  “And she should know everything you did, correct?” he asked.

  “Not everything.” I said smug.

  “How can you be so sure? Would it surprise you to know she thinks you are the dark one?”

  I laughed. “I’m not dark. And she just buried the things that she did. Either she truly believes she didn’t kill those kids, or she is playing you. Either way, her son is in danger.”

  “Why do you believe that?”

  “Because she’ll kill him. She’ll snap. She always has.”

  He pursed his lips, reached for his coffee, and sipped, never taking his eyes off me.

  I continued. “I tried to call his grandfather, but there was no answer.”

  “Is he still alive?”

  I chuckled. “Of course, I drove by his house.”

  “Why didn’t you stop in?”

  “I wanted to call him first. But I don’t think he’ll talk to me.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because we had an affair.”

  He choked on his coffee. “You had an affair with Richie’s father?”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “My senior year. It ended. A couple months went by and his son was marrying Pam, because she was pregnant. He ignored me. Pam said he once told her never to mention my name again.” I shrugged. “Maybe I broke his heart. I certainly was the best piece of ass he had.”

  “Did Pam know you had an affair with her father-in-law?”

  “Oh, she did.” I pulled the chair closer to his desk and lowered my voice. “I used to tell her the things he would do to me. Incredible stuff.” I sighed out. “Probably was what made her start sleeping with Richie. But he is not his father in bed.”

  “You know this how?”

  I laughed. “You can’t be that dumb. She had to tell you he and I were having an affair. She knew. She found out at the end. She never knew how long. I was one of many. But the affair ended. He was never the same after she killed his kids. I blame myself, because I think our affair pushed her to it. I don’t think she realized I was pregnant by him.”

  He paused and stared. “You were pregnant by Richie? Did you tell him?”

  I shook my head. “It was never the right time. With all he was going through, I left town.”

  “Where is your child??”

  I lowered my head. “He was abducted years ago. I don’t know. And ...” I stood up. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

  “There are few more questions …”

  “No.” I shook my head. “You found out my intent. I don’t know yours. Care to tell me?”

  He stood. “I’m looking out for my patient’s best interest. You entering her life again may not be a good thing.”

  “Really? Cause I’m not the bad one here. I was going to stick back, stay away. When I heard she was trying to reach me, I avoided her … but now, I honestly think her release is a mistake. I promise you this; your patient won’t be doing office visits when I’m done. I vow to protect that child of hers. I couldn’t help her other children or the people that she hurt, but I can do what I need to do for him.”

  “That is?”

  “Put her back where she belongs,” I answered. “Away for good.” I walked to the door.

  Quickly, he scurried to catch me. “Sharon.”

  I stopped.

  “I would like to see you again, Sharon.” He stared deeply into my eyes. “Will you come back to see me again?”

  “I’m not sick and I don’t need a shrink.”

  “I still would like to talk to you some more.” He lifted a card. “Here’s my number, it has my ce
ll. Call me.”

  “Why?” I asked softly, taking the card. “Do you want to see me for my mind … or is another reason?”

  He didn’t say anything.

  Softly, I laughed out a breath and grabbed the door. “Tell you what. I may pop by and surprise you. How’s that.”

  “That would work.”

  “Good. Then we will see each other soon…” I reached up and touched his cheek. “Have a good day, Doctor.”

  He didn’t move; he stood there, seemingly stunned by me. I’m not so sure that was a bad thing, and perhaps something I needed on my side.

  If I could win him, I could sway him.

  Getting to Pam would be easier than I thought.

  Chapter Twenty-Six – Pam

  The first day I was at the library, I discovered the wondrous thing called the internet. The second day, message boards and groups. There was also a social network called MySpace. Stacy told me about it; everyone was on it. She said a new network had started, but it was only open to college kids and she doubted it would ever be more popular than MySpace.

  The MySpace thing was amazing. I found my son on there. At least I thought it was, then I knew for sure when I met him.

  My son.

  What an amazing young man he was. So handsome, so smart, I truly felt as if God gave me a gift because of all that I had lost. I would embrace him, treasure him, and never let anything happen to him.

  Before heading to the library, I stopped at the electronics store and looked at computers. The nice young man there was helpful and told me how to get the internet at my apartment as well.

  I was elated. I liked the library and all, but somehow, it would be better using it at home. Even after I solved the murders of my family.

  A part of me felt it as more of getting proof. But how? How does one start?

  My third day at the library felt weird. Different. It seemed as if an extra hush took over the place when I walked in and I felt all eyes staring at me.

  It could have been my imagination or my paranoia. I ignored it and walked down to the computer lab.

  “Morning, Stacy. Or …” I looked at my watch. “Afternoon.”