CHAPTER 76
Scottler pulled into Randolph’s driveway, an unpaved dirt and gravel road that led to a small one-story house in desperate need of paint. Off to the side, partially obscured by tall weeds, lay the rusty carcass of an ancient and indeterminate-model pickup.
Before Scottler had even reached the front door, an elderly woman pulled it open, blocking the doorway. “Can I help you, Officer?” she asked in a creaky voice.
“I hope so, ma’am. I’m looking for Bart Randolph. I understand he lives here.”
“Well, he ain’t home. Haven’t seen him in a few days.”
“But he does live here?” Scottler asked.
“Some of the time. This is my place, and he’s my grandson, but he’s got a girl over in Port Jervis whose place he stays at a lot.” She looked Scottler up and down suspiciously, then gazed out toward his cruiser. “He do something wrong?”
“Not that I know of. I just have some questions for him. Do you know if he was working over at Camp Lakewood this week?”
“Said something about it before he left.”
“And when would that have been, ma’am?”
“Maybe three days ago, his girl picked him up.”
“He doesn’t drive?”
“Truck’s in the shop.”
“Can you tell me his girlfriend’s name and where she lives?”
“Maryanne from Port Jervis is all I know.”
“Would you mind if I had a look around in his room, ma’am?”
“I thought you said he ain’t done nothing wrong.”
“Yes, but I still need to talk to him. And perhaps there is something in his room that may tell me more about his girlfriend and where I can find her.”
“Sorry, but I don’t feel comfortable letting you in, so I’ll do the looking. You just wait outside.”
“Fine. I just need an address.”
The old woman closed the door, locked it, and shuffled off to her grandson’s room. Opening the door, she said, “All right, mister. Why are the police here looking for you, and why don’t you want me to tell them you’re home?”
Randolph sat up in bed. “You’ve got it all wrong, Grams. I just don’t like cops. The other day I had a fight with that skinny, black guy Frankie over at the shop. He wouldn’t give me my truck back until I paid him, so I pushed him down and threatened to bust up the place. That’s probably what it’s all about.”
“Wonderful.” The old woman glared at her grandson with a look that defied her age and could still elicit fear. “When are you gonna get your act together? I’m telling you, Bart, I’ve had it up to here. This is the last time I’m covering for you. Now stay in your room while I get rid of him.”
“Thanks, Grams.”
She waited a few minutes, then opened the door. “I looked through all his stuff and didn’t find anything, Officer.”
“I see, ma’am,” Scottler said, handing her his card. “Please take this and have your grandson call me when he returns.”
“Sure, but it may be a while. I don’t keep tabs on him.”
“Thank you.” Scottler began walking away, then turned back, almost as an afterthought. “One more thing, though. Does he have a cell phone? Maybe I could call him?”
“He used to, but he couldn’t pay the bill, so they shut it off last month.”
“Very well, then. Just have him call when he gets back.”
CHAPTER 77
Two days go by, during which I suffer through a couple of minor episodes. The over-the-counter Excedrin Migraine pills help a little, but not like my real meds. I’m just glad that I haven’t had a full-blown attack. Anyway, I’m lying on the bed, bored out of my mind, and wondering what the hell is going to happen next, when this tough-looking, spike-haired cop pulls me out of my cell and brings me into an interrogation room. He cuffs my ankles and leaves me alone without saying a word. I sit there for a while, and then this chubby old lady walks through the door.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Sullivan,” she says to me, smiling like my grandma. “I’m here to help with your defense, Harold Levy sent me to speak with you. My name is Dr. Sinead O’Reilly.”
“Well, where is he? I haven’t seen him in two days.”
“He’s working on your case. He told me to tell you that he’s following up some leads and in the process of drafting a motion to suppress evidence. He wants me to evaluate you, and if I am to help, you must be completely honest with me about everything. Understand that whatever you say will be kept confidential.”
“Whatever. I told him I’m not crazy, but if this will help . . .”
“Mr. Levy believes it will, but before I begin, you should know that I have read your file and I have been fully briefed. I have also reviewed a report about the active ingredients contained in the experimental medication you’ve been taking.”
“Yeah, well, speaking of that, my head’s been killing me, and I sure could use a dose of that stuff right about now.”
“I’m sorry, Thomas, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. In fact, after the research I’ve done, I believe that the drug is causing more problems for you than you know.”
“What do you mean?”
She gives me a sympathetic look. “Thomas, before I draw any conclusions, I really need to ask you some questions. Can we start with that?”
“I guess so.”
“Good, I understand you’ve been in this study for about three months. When did you start experiencing these headaches?”
“A long time ago. They actually started when I was a kid.”
“Really? Did your parents know?”
“Yeah.”
“Did they do anything about it?”
“My mom used to take me to this doctor.”
“What kind of doctor?”
“He was a shrink.”
“And did he help you?”
“Nah, he was a stiff. I’d just go every couple of weeks and talk to him, but nothing ever came of it. After a few months, my mom just stopped taking me.”
“Did he prescribe medication for you?”
“Yeah, I think so. I mean, I remember my mom used to give me a pill every morning for a while.”
“Did it help with the headaches?”
“Sometimes. But to be honest with you, I really don’t remember too much about my life when I was a kid.”
“Okay, Thomas, I’m going to go in a different direction, here. How would you feel if I were to hypnotize you and see if we can jog your memory?”
“Hypnotize me? Can you really do that?”
“Yes, if you’re willing.”
I nod my head. “I suppose so.” Of course, I really don’t think Granny can actually hypnotize me. I never believed that stuff for a second, but what the hell? Let her try.
“Good. I’ll be right back.”
She gets up, leaves the room, and returns a few minutes later with the spike-haired cop. They move us into a room with a couch where I lie down. Then she tells me to close my eyes and begins talking to me in a whisper. Before long, I start feeling real sleepy.
* * *
“Okay, Thomas, you should be completely relaxed now,” said Dr. O’Reilly. “I want you to think back to when you were a little boy, just playing and having fun. Can you recall a time like that?”
Tommy was stretched out comfortably on the couch with his eyes closed. A childlike grin played across his face. “Yeah, I remember.”
“Good—very good,” Dr. O’Reilly said, her voice soft and soothing. “Now, can you tell me where you are?”
“On the beach playing in the sand.” Tommy answered, in a much younger voice.
“That’s great, Tommy. How old are you?”
“Six or seven. I’m not really sure.”
“Who is with you?”
“This kid I know from down here.”
“Down where, Tommy?”
“The Cape. We’re at the Cape for the week now that school’s over.”
“Very nice. Where are
your parents?”
“They’re sitting on a blanket watching us build a sandcastle.”
“Wonderful. Tell me more.”
“We’re digging a moat around the castle to catch the water when it comes up the beach. Dad says that as the tide comes in the water will fill it. We just have to wait. It doesn’t take long though, and first the moat fills up, then a few minutes later a big wave crashes in and wrecks the castle. We get soaked and race up the beach laughing.”
“Sounds like great fun, Tommy. I’m glad you remember that. Now let’s move on. Can you recall another time you were enjoying yourself like that?”
Tommy giggles. “I’m playing miniature golf, and I just got a hole-in-one.”
“Where are you, Tommy?”
“At the Cape again.”
“How old are you now?”
“Maybe eight?”
“Okay, go on.”
“Dad’s with me, clapping and laughing louder than ever. He picks me up and puts me on his shoulders, and we’re dancing around celebrating the hole-in-one. Mom’s watching us from the bench, and she’s cracking up.”
“What a great time, Tommy.”
“Yeah, it is. I always have a blast here, but it never lasts. Once the week is over, things just go back to normal.”
“What do you mean?”
Tommy squirmed and began scratching his forearm. “Well . . . back at home, Mom and Dad are not the same. They always fight with each other and scream at me. Even when I don’t do anything wrong.”
“Well, let’s explore that further. I want you to go back to a different time—and this may be a little harder—because I want you to think about when things were really bad and you were very sad. Can you do that for me?”
Tommy began to frown, and his face took on a pained expression. “No, don’t hit me, Mom. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
“What did you do, Tommy? Tell me.”
“It was Louie’s idea, I swear.” Tommy started crying.
“I believe you, Tommy. What was Louie’s idea?”
“We have this firecracker—and there’s this stray dog by my house, and Louie says it would be fun to feed it to the dog. So I go inside my house and get a piece of cheese, and I wrap it around the firecracker.” Tommy was shaking his head from side to side.
“It’s okay Tommy. Relax. Just keep going.”
“Louie is holding onto the dog, and I light the firecracker and put the cheese in front of the dog.” Still in a trance, Tommy shivered. “Oh, no—he grabs it out of my hand. Boom! It explodes right in his mouth.”
“Then what happens, Tommy?”
“Louie takes off just as Mom runs out of the house.” Tommy’s speech became urgent. “She’s yelling at me something awful.”
“Go on, Tommy, don’t stop now.”
“Okay, now she’s screaming: ‘You little bastard, what’s wrong with you? How could you do that to a poor, defenseless animal?’”
“I’m right here, Tommy. Let it all out.”
“I’m standing there crying and staring at the blood all over the dog’s muzzle. Mom is on her knees, holding the dog and crying. She looks up at me and says, ‘I should have chosen your brother, you nasty son of a bitch.’”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ve got no idea. I don’t even have a brother.” Tommy starts pressing his palms into his temples and rolling his head.
“Okay, Tommy, calm down. You have to relax.”
“I can’t. It’s my head. It’s pounding so hard I can’t stand it. Make it stop. Please make it stop!”
Dr. O’Reilly got up, walked behind Tommy, and placed her hands on top of his. She spoke slowly in a hushed voice. “Close your eyes, Tommy. Focus your mind on the sounds of the ocean. Listen to the waves rolling up the beach, and hear the seagulls cawing. I know you can do it. Everything will be fine. Your headache is going away. The pain is easing.” Gently, she removed Tommy’s hands from his head and placed them softly in his lap. Standing behind him, she began rubbing the sides of his head and continued to whisper, “Feel the sand under your feet and the sun at your back. All is good, Tommy. Relax, and take a deep breath.”
In seconds, Tommy’s demeanor changed, his body slumped, and he let out a sigh that seemed to expel some demon from deep within, a suppressed evil that must have been plaguing him since childhood.
“How are you feeling now, Tommy?” she asked, returning to her seat.
Tommy’s breathing steadied, and the color returned to his face. “Much better now.”
“No more headache?” the doctor asked.
“All gone.”
“Fantastic, Tommy. You’re doing great. Let’s move forward. Why don’t you take us to something you remember after that?”
Tommy started to quiver and hugged himself. His breathing became fitful, and his face turned red.
Concerned, Dr. O’Reilly asked, “What is it, Tommy? What’s happening?”
Tommy went on, speaking in a voice from the past. “Mommy, where are you. Where’d you go?”
Dr. O’Reilly interjected again. “Tommy, answer me. What’s going on?”
“She’s gone. Her clothes are gone, and Dad is screaming, calling her names, and using nasty curses. Now he’s in the hall holding a bottle of whiskey, and he keeps drinking from it and yelling like mad, ‘Jenny, where’d you go, bitch? You can’t cut out on me now—not like this!’”
“Keep going, I want to hear it all.”
Tommy is bawling. “I’m in my room, hiding in the closet. Dad is storming up the stairs and calling out my name, ‘Tommy, where the fuck are you?’ He pulls open the closet door and grabs me by the shirt. ‘You did this, you little prick, didn’t you? It’s your fault she ran off. I hope you’re happy now.’ He throws me on the bed, rips off his belt, and starts whacking me with it over and over again. I’m screaming and crying and trying to pull the covers over me, but he keeps whacking away, so I get up, run down the stairs, and bolt out the door.”
His eyes still closed, Tommy’s body contorts, writhing until he rolls off the couch. Dr. O’Reilly rushes to his side and cradles him. “Everything is okay, Tommy. Just calm down, you’re safe here. We’re going to make this all go away. I’m going to count to three and snap my fingers, and when I do, you’re going to wake up and you won’t remember any of this. You’ll just feel refreshed and alive and better than you have in a very long time. One, your breathing is getting slower . . . two, you’re feeling so much better . . . and three, you’re feeling great.” Snap!
Tommy’s eyes flickered, and he came awake. Confused, he searched Dr. O’Reilly’s face.
“When do we start?”
CHAPTER 78
Dr. O’Reilly phoned Levy immediately upon leaving the police station.
“Harold, I’ve done a preliminary, and I can tell you right now that there’s a lot going on with this young man.”
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense. What have you got for me?”
“I need to see him again very soon, but from what I’ve learned so far, he’s deeply troubled, and it goes all the way back to when he was a little boy. Definitely a dysfunctional upbringing, which clearly has had a major impact on him.”
“Go on. I need details.”
“Okay, I was able to hypnotize him—quite easily, I must say—and I brought him back to childhood. Almost immediately, he remembered two very significant incidents from his past. This is important because the simple fact that he picked out these memories first means that they probably have been plaguing his subconscious for some time, while his conscious mind has no memory of the occurrences.”
Levy shifted the phone from his left ear to his right. “What kind of memories?”
Dr. O’Reilly breathed a heavy sigh before continuing. “All right. First, he recalled a few happy times in his life. Then, I directed him to go back to some bad times, and he told me a story about an evil thing he did as a child. It seems he and another boy fed a firecracker to a dog.
As horrible as that was, what happened next may have been even more traumatic.”
“Don’t stop now.”
“Well, his mother caught him, and apparently she was so incensed that she actually told him that she wished she would have chosen his brother instead.”
“Really!”
“Yes, and so I asked him if he knew what his mother meant by that. He responded that he did not. Honestly, though, I have my doubts. I mean, you did tell me that his father told him about his twin brother; so perhaps he may have known before his father ever told him. Maybe he was living with the knowledge all his life and never acknowledged or accepted it, and it just festered in his subconscious. It would explain a lot of things.”
“I’m trying to process this, Doctor, but what you’re saying doesn’t make sense. How can he know something but at the same time not know it?”
“The brain is a very powerful and mysterious organ. You would be amazed at what it is capable of. Sometimes it will suppress very painful memories as a defense mechanism in an effort to protect its host, but at the same time, the very information that has been buried grows like a cancer until it takes over the mind and causes all sorts of psychological problems.”
“But his father didn’t tell him about his twin until after his mother left. And when he did tell him, he lied and said that his twin died at birth.”
“As I said, perhaps he found out much earlier but never fully acknowledged it. We just don’t know.”
Levy thought for a moment. “I see. Is there more?”
“Quite a bit. The night his mother left, his father got very drunk and took it out on Thomas. He blamed him and beat him with a strap until he ran away. I imagine things were never the same between them after that.”
Everywhere That Tommy Goes Page 22
