“Of damage? I can see better if you bring it here.”
“No, a patient of mine thinks his wife is … cheating. Maybe meeting him in this area. Can you take a look and see if you have seen her around?” I fumbled through the pictures. “Hold on, he sent it to me. Let me pull it up.” I found it and handed him the phone.
My phone, my expensive phone nearly dropped from his hand. “Are you serious?” His eyes widened.
“Yeah, what’s wrong?”
“Oh my God. Do you know her?”
“Sort of,” I said.
“What’s her name? I need to know her name.”
“Sharon Wilson.”
He handed back the phone. “I said it today and I meant it that I’d remember that face, and I do. I just needed a name. I was thrown for a loop today when she came up. And you better tell your friend that his wife is no stranger around here. Has a history. Down the street I saw her walk into the apartment of a girl who was found dead.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. Doctor, I hate to do this. But I was labeled a drunk and a liar years ago. I’m making this right.”
“You do what you need to do,” I said. “I’ll look into it on this end. But I’d appreciate, because I’m a doctor and I have an oath, that they contact me directly. If you’re positive.”
“I am.”
“Thank you.” I had a heavy feeling come over me. Pam was right. The man did see Sharon. Perhaps the way I went about it was sneaky and unethical, but I was, in fact, helping my patient.
I got back in my car, opened my briefcase, and made a notation in the ‘Pam’ folder. It was as I was closing my briefcase that my phone range.
Restricted.
I could only guess who it was.
“Hello,” I answered, tossing my briefcase in the back of the car.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“Sharon?”
“Yes. Where are you? I’m where you told me. I thought we were having a drive by. If you’re not gonna show, I need to know, I have things to do.”
“No. No. I’m on my way. Be there very, very shortly.”
“Good. Because the working girls on this block are giving me dirty looks. I don’t want to be jumped.”
“I think uh … you’re tougher than that.”
She laughed and hung up.
I stared at the phone before setting it down and pulling from the parking lot of the shop.
I made plans to meet Sharon to create another fantasy. It wasn’t right, not at all, but I justified it as my way of helping Sharon, and it was going to end soon. Sooner than I thought. It made me sad. As twisted as it was, I connected with her. I still had the ‘wave’ come over me, but in all the years of having my illness, never has it only been about one person.
Before when the wave hit, if a patient returned me on, caused a fantasy to stir, as soon as they left, and the next patient came in, the fantasy would then involve them.
But Sharon remained on my mind. Perhaps there would be a way to still see her after it all came to an end for her.
No. No. No. what the hell was I thinking?
I turned the corner and saw her on Ninth and Thomas Street. I stopped the car. She looked at me and turned quickly.
“Miss Wilson,” I called out. “You can’t run, I see you.”
She stopped and with slumped shoulders turned around. “Hey, Doc.” She approached the car window.
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s not what you think,” she said, playing along well, too well with my fantasy.
“You said you gave this up. Get in.”
“But I …”
“Get in.”
Pouting, she walked to the passenger’s side and got inside.
“I thought we got beyond this,” I told her.
“A lady has to make a living.”
“This is not a living to you and you know it.” I drove down the road. “This is a sickness we have been working on. You have a wonderful house, a husband who adores you.”
“I know.”
Two blocks down the road, I pulled into an alley. It was a dead end, and the final block was behind a Chinese takeout restaurant.
I parked the car behind the dumpster. There was a smell of garbage meets egg rolls in the air.
The workers at the place knew I went there, and I suspected they watched many times. I was never there long. My visits there were quick and sweet. A release.
They never called the police and never said anything to me when I went in and bought food afterwards. Food that was surprisingly ready for me.
Then again, there was always a very healthy tip that I left. I suppose when they saw my car, they figured they’d better get the Egg Foo Young ready.
I put the car in park.
“Why did we stop?” she asked.
“You’re my patient,” I said. “You aren’t following my advice.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You need to be punished. In fact, you need a special kind of therapy.”
“Whatever you say. Whatever you want.” She pleaded, “Please, just help me.”
I smiled. She was amazing at this role-play, so much so that I forgot it was all an act.
Opening my car door, I stepped out and got into the back seat.
Chapter Thirty-Three – Sharon
Doctor Desmond Andrews was a freak. He was a total fucking freak, and I didn’t know whether to like him or hate him.
Our little role-play experience gave me nothing on the informational front, but he pissed me off enough to move forward quickly with my plan.
Our encounter was strictly role playing. I was to be a patient he had been treating for sexual addiction, and he was to bust me for being a prostitute. His punishment slash therapy was a sexual experience that would thwart me, the so-called sex addict patient, from wanting to go out and seek dangerous sex again.
He parked behind this Chinese takeout place, got in the back of the car. Sat in the middle and opened his briefcase.
After squirting a large amount of lube in my hand, he proceeded to tell me to straddle the gear shift and touch myself until he was ready.
Straddling a gear shift is not an easy task. It didn’t feel good and he didn’t want me to act like it felt good. He wanted me to beg him to make me stop.
“Move a little more. Not too much. Don’t put the car in gear.”
“Please … please let me stop.”
Then he gave me permission to dismount and ordered me into the back of the car. I wondered how much seeing my face killed his fantasies because he always had to take me from behind, and he never looked at me.
Awkward and uncomfortable, I found a way to get on my knees with him behind me. He called me a slut and told me I was spread out from having too many men inside of me. No fucking kidding, I was spread out. I had a gear shift between my legs.
After a round of verbal abuse, he defined the old saying, ‘slam bam thank you ma’am’ and was done before I felt his hips slam into my ass.
For as quick as he exploded that was also how quick his personality changed.
“This was great, thank you.” He did his pants.
Hmmm.
“This is my favorite fantasy.”
“I’m sorry? You’ve done this one before.”
“Oh, yeah, all the time,” he said nonchalantly, the quickly looked up. I saw it on his face, he realized his error.
“You know, I did this because I thought we had an instant chemistry. I’m not one of your whores you buy off the street … I thought I was giving you something you had never had.”
“This was … the best one?” He said as a question.
I shook my head and produced a look of disgust. It did piss me off. “Now you gotta give me something.”
“Like what? Money?”
“No!” I blasted. Sitting back, I thought about it. “Something about you. Tell me something about you. Something personal.”
“I can’t do that.�
��
“Why not? You know about me. No, wait. You don’t know me. You only know what Pam tells you.”
“You let on about yourself more than you think.” He fastened his pants and belt as he spoke. “Pam doesn’t say much about you, except what she suspects.”
“That I’m a killer.”
He stopped talking.
“I’m not. Or do you think I am?”
He huffed out, “I think there’s more to this whole story. Which I’ll find out.”
“Is that what this is about?” I asked. “You wanna know the story? Unreal.”
“What’s that’s supposed to mean.”
“You’re using me to get more inside information about your client.”
“And you’re not using me. Trust me; women don’t come on to me.”
I chuckled out a laugh of disbelief and reached for the car door. “You won’t hear from me again.”
“Stop. Don’t go like this.”
“Goodbye.” As I scooted to leave, the door partially open, he made the fatal mistake as he grabbed hold of my arm to pull me back.
In the midst of telling me to stop and he didn’t mean it, he called me Pam.
I spun around, pulling the door closed, revved back my hand, but he stopped me before I could slap him. “Why would you call me that!” I blasted. “Are you thinking of her while you fuck me!”
“No! No!” He defended. “It slipped out. It slipped. We were talking about her, I didn’t mean it.”
“Do you know how many times I had to hear Richie call me her name by accident? I hate it. I hate it.” I freaked out. “I thought he loved me. He’d be inside of me and call out her fucking name!”
“Sharon, stop!” he shouted. “People make mistakes. It was a mistake. I said I was sorry. Just drop it. Forget it.”
I calmed down some, nodding.
Until he said. “Go home. We’re finished for today.”
My insides screamed, ‘What?’, I raged with anger and emotions, and before I exploded or even burst into tears, I got out of that car and slammed the door.
It pissed me off even more to realize I was in the middle of an alley.
I looked back one to see him toss back his head, possibly in frustration or self-doubt, and I walked off, each step fueling me.
He was using me more than I was using him. But he only got laid; I got information from him.
I hated the fact that yet another man was using me for Pam. Using me when precious fucking Pam wouldn’t deliver.
I was done with her.
She had to go, one way or another. She had controlled my life long enough, who I hung out with, hated, and loved. I was fine while she was gone, but she was back and again in control whether I realized it at first or not.
Desmond had to be stopped as well. If he treated me like he did, taking sexual leeway with me, how many other patients had he compromised? Sure, I could go to the Board of Psychiatrics, but was our sexual encounter proof that he acted in an unethical manner? I really wasn’t a patient.
Pam was.
He had been talking to people about her. That …. I knew was unethical.
I could stop them both by retracing his steps. Steps he marked clearly in a ‘Pam’ folder on his desk.
I don’t know why I was so worried about getting to Willow Brook before sundown. My quick visit with Desmond really didn’t take long. We argued more than we screwed.
After cleaning up and freshening my face, I drove like a bat out of hell. I felt out of control and used.
The tables had been turned. Pam was winning. I still couldn’t figure out what Desmond had to gain by having sex with me. Perhaps the same motives as me, weaken, gain my trust, pillow talk and bedroom secrets made in confidence.
Neither of us got to that point.
I had one purpose in Willow Brook and that was to see Rich. Knowing that Desmond had his address, I didn’t know whether or not he had called or spoken to Rich. I had to warn him that I divulged our affair to Desmond and Pam was on a warpath to peg me for crimes I did not commit. How far Pam was into her little setup, I didn’t know.
With the help of Desmond and a son who now trusted her, she could easily turn her crimes into mine.
I wasn’t thinking clearly. I’d be the first to admit that.
Enraged, scorned woman was more like it. How many times had I felt like that? All the times Richie and I had insane sex, and he’d end the night telling me he wanted to curl up next to Pam.
Rich Senior, saying he liked Pam, she was sweet. He lusted for me. I was bad.
What was wrong with me?
Why couldn’t anyone want me for me?
She got the men, she got the perfect life, the house, the kids, and the baby with a man that wanted the child, and after she destroyed it all … she got that son back.
Life was not fair.
Why did she have to come back?
Why did that DNA evidence even matter?
I pulled up to Rich Senior’s house; there was a car out front. I didn’t think much about it. I should have. The front door was open. I was nervous, but I had a mission. I didn’t even get to knock when Rich appeared at the screened porch door.
I exhaled.
“Look who just showed up,” Rich said with a hard tone. “The doctor said you were back. Can’t say I’m glad to see you, and I’d appreciate it if you left my property now.”
“Why are you being like this to me?” I asked. “Why? What did I do to you?”
He burst into maniacal laughter. “You can’t be serious, can you? You killed my grandchildren. You took my son away from me. Because of you he didn’t speak to me. I missed all the years of watching my only grandchild grow up. You took everything I ever loved away from me, everyone that was dear and precious. Everyone. Why? Because you didn’t want anyone else to have Richie.”
“No.” I shook my head. “No. You’re wrong. I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill them!” I screamed. “You believe the lies of a doctor. Pam was the one. Pam!”
“Pam?” He laughed again. “Pam? Maybe she is to blame because she let you take over and have control.”
“No, she had control.”
“Who is here now? Huh? You. Now …”
“Pap? I have to go now. I …” The voice called from inside the house, and the young man stepped to the door. He froze.
Rich sniffed. “Justin, this is Sharon, the one I was telling you about. She’s here to proclaim her innocence and blame it on … Pam.”
Justin shook his head. “I didn’t believe it. The chief of police even said …”
“No!” I silenced him. “Don’t listen to my father. He’s nuts. He’s crazy.”
Rich fluttered his lips. “Your own father said you killed those kids. Your own father.”
“Justin.” I pleaded with the boy. “I know we never met. I know you only heard things about me. But listen. Please, I beg you. You mother is not what you think.”
The porch door plowed open; he seemed to ignore me. “I’ll talk to you later, Pap. I’m glad Dr. Andrews told me to come.” He looked at Rich and walked by me.
“Justin!”
He lifted his hands as he walked to the car. “I can’t deal with this.”
I watched him for a moment as he got in his car. I spun to Rich. “All of you are putting him in danger. You’re acting like this is nothing. He’s in danger.”
Rich shook his head. “Not worried. It’s over, Sharon. Or haven’t you heard the news. Surprised you’re still wandering the streets.”
“What ... what are you talking about?”
“Marion Blake. The girl you killed.”
My eyes widened. “I didn’t kill her.”
“Really? Because the news just had a spot on that they reopened the case, that a piece of the puzzle finally fit, and a mechanic stepped forward and named you. In fact, they’re blasting your name all over the news. You were in Hartford at the time, he placed you at the scene of the crime, and the connection … she was p
regnant to my son. Once again, you’d do anything to stop someone else from ….”
With a scream of ‘No’, I didn’t bother to listen anymore; I flew from the house and got into my car.
She did this. She set it up.
I knew right where to find her.
Chapter Thirty-Four – Pam
The excitement of the day, the rush of adrenaline, and all that espresso caused me to immediately crash the moment I stopped.
I stepped from the library; the wind blew my papers, and after I gathered them, I sat down on the bench and passed out.
I remember the security guard waking me and telling me that the library was closing if I wanted to go back in. Then he asked if I was all right. I told him I was fine, and dozed off again.
Silly, I know. But had I not, I wouldn’t have gotten the warning.
“Pam!” Her voice snapped out my name near my ear.
At first, I thought it was a dream or some mid-sleep thing where you think you hear a voice. But I wasn’t dreaming. I opened my eyes to see Sharon standing there.
I stumbled to a stand; the look in her eyes frightened me, and I looked around for the security guard. It was dark; he’d be making rounds soon. If I screamed he’d hear me. Why hadn’t I just gone home?
“You’re so predictable,” Sharon told me. “What did you do, Pam? Spend the last eighteen years in a crazy ward trying to think of ways to frame me?”
“Frame you? It’s not framing you for a crime you committed.”
“I didn’t do it. You did and you know it.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m going to call for the guard.”
“Go ahead. They’re all looking for you anyhow. It’s over, Pam. You may want to run, hide, take off. It’s done.”
“You’re insane,” I barked. “You always were.”
Sharon smiled. “I just got back from visiting Rich. He was glad to see me and hear my story. It was a very emotional reunion.”
“You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not. Justin was there. He’s so sweet. He just wants to help you, but seems he and your little librarian friend found some stuff out.”
What was it about her expression? It was smug, and that scared me even more. What had she done? “Dr. Andrews will attest to me.”
Pam Page 13
