He managed to keep Evie’s psychosis a secret. At least, it appeared so. For the duration of her therapy, Gaston had arranged a private room for her in the maternity ward of the hospital. Carrying twins and a fabricated complication in her pregnancy justified her bed. Occasionally, she was shifted around to other floors in the hospital, even spending two weeks in pediatrics when legitimate maternity patients needed a private room. Simon employed around the clock bedsitters to keep watch over her.
When she integrated and the threat of Staci returning lessened, Gaston, extending her some trust, dispatched the security. At first, Simon was hesitant. He took a monumental risk doing things the way he had and needed to be certain Evie was no longer a threat to anyone, particularly adulterous husbands.
A mysterious, albeit fictional, virus after the twins birth covered nicely for the remaining months of her therapy. Evie would continue with therapy on the island with a local psychologist. Infrequent visits, Gaston suggested.
Cooper gobbled down four ounces of milk in no time flat. He put him over his shoulder and patted his back.
The loved ones in Evie’s life each had their own guilt to bear with regard to her illness. Harrison for having the affair. Felicia for thinking too much about herself and not enough about her daughter. Keertana for not keeping in closer touch with Evie. Dan for not believing in his son when he purged his soul and told him he thought Evie was the murderer. Simon for letting his love for Evie obscure his vision. If he hadn’t loved her, if she had been just another suspect, he would have put everything together. At least, he liked to think so.
Cooper belched, a loud, guttural sound deep from the stomach. “That was a big one. Almost blew me off the rocker, it did.” He cradled him in the crook of his arm and resumed feeding him.
Felicia was warming up to him, strangely enough. Not only that, and strangely enough as well, she volunteered to sit the twins. He took her up on the offer a few times, not because his parents were unavailable, but to let her show her forgiveness for her scorn all these years. That was as close to an apology as he would get from her.
After the twins release from the hospital following their birth, he had arranged for a nanny to look after Amelia and Cooper while he worked. Dan and Keertana would not hear of it. “A stranger looking after our grandchildren? We don’t think so.” They spoiled them mercilessly, as was, he supposed, one of the perks of grandparents.
In the fourteen months where Evie underwent extensive therapy, Simon, under Gaston tutelage and what he read on the subject, became quite knowledgeable on disassociative identity disorder, a built-in coping mechanism. A host personality was borne when Evie couldn’t cope with an extremely negative childhood trauma and repressed memories. When she was four years old, a male friend of Harrison and Felicia’s molested her. The abuse continued for months until one day the man suffered a heart attack and died. Neither Harrison or Felicia would divulge the man’s name, nor would they admit having knowledge of the abuse. Gaston said he believed them. He’d suspected Harrison and an office consultation had confirmed his suspicion.
He’d related the incident to Simon on that Friday morning:
Gaston sat at his desk and went over his notes on Evie. She troubled him. She was putting on an act. Many of his clients forced into therapy reacted this way in the beginning, but eventually they relaxed and learned to appreciate the benefits. Not completely so with Evie, though. She guarded her words, her reactions, her mannerisms as though fearful of what he might uncover. A conscious or unconscious act, he couldn’t determine. True, she made great strides from the frightened, guilt-ridden woman who entered his office six months ago, but he felt there was something underlying, something she didn’t want to let slip. He was about to cast his line wildly into the water. He hoped for a bite, but would settle for a nibble.
When a car pulled into the drive, he stuffed her file in a drawer. A moment later, the door to his office opened. Dr. Harrison Madison, a lanky man with a head of snow-white hair, meticulously dressed in a cashmere charcoal top coat, black suit, white shirt and red-striped tie entered.
Gaston stood. “Dr. Madison, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
They shook hands.
“I’m glad we could do this face to face rather than on the phone. Get your business in Conord done?”
“Yes, but I don’t have much time. Can we get down to it?”
Gaston indicated the Victorian chair in the front of his desk. “Please have a seat.”
“Why don’t you tell me what you have to say that couldn’t be discussed over the phone.” Harrison unbuttoned his coat and sat. “Is there a problem with my daughter’s therapy? Is that why you called me here?”
Gaston steepled his fingers and stared at the man Evie thought so much of. “Your daughter is being cooperative, but not completely open. She’s holding something back. I hoped you could help me fill in the blanks. If I’m to treat her properly, I need to know if something happened in her childhood, something she repressed.”
Harrison stood. “What are you insinuating?”
“I’m not insinuating anything. I—”
“My wife and I love our daughter very much. She had a very happy childhood and wanted for nothing. This conversation is over.” Harrison stormed out. But Gaston had misinterpreted Harrison’s reaction.
To further add to Evie’s insecurity, other distasteful events occurred at approximately the same time. Harrison had an affair and Evie caught her father going at with an intern from the hospital across the desk in his study at home. This, too, was very traumatic for her. When the next day, a Sunday, came around and their normal routine of going to church and lunch at Benny’s Burgers never happened, Evie blamed herself. Guilt was one of the most powerful of emotions. Evie admitted feeling in a daze, confusion and disorientated at times and believed her thoughts were out of control. She experienced bouts of depression and anxiety attacks so severe she thought she was about to suffer a heart attack. She knew something was wrong with her and feared insanity, but it never occurred to her she had a host personality.
His dear Evie. It sickened Simon to think what she went through all those years ago, and how she suffered in the many years which followed.
Gaston placed her into a self-induced hypnotic trance and made her relive in Staci’s character, the traumatic events in her life. Eventually, through his expert guidance, he helped her integrate all her memories into a central consciousness. When she began to remember and was able to deal with the history, Staci was no longer needed.
Simon destroyed the evidence he found secreted away beneath a loose floor board in her closet: the knife used to castrate the men, the gun used to end their lives, the boots, the wigs, the make-up, the clothes. He had letters delivered to the wives of Miller, Coulton and Teed, saying the killer had been caught and was properly dealt with and signed it “Anonymous”. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell them more than that, but it gave them closure and relieved some of his guilt for doing things the way he had.
Staci hadn’t had sex with any of her victims, which explained why the DNA found on Miller’s body didn’t match Evie’s. She murdered the men after she witnessed them getting it on with hookers. The only man she had sex with was the man who approached her at The Pier on the night of her birthday.
Gaston ordered blood tests for safety sake and Evie came up clean.
Gaston told him to expect certain differences in Evie. Staci’s tastes, opinions and mannerisms became a part of Evie when the two personalities integrated. Some he might not like, the psychiatrist warned. Simon prepared himself.
Gaston was bound by doctor patient confidentiality.
Harrison and Felicia would never breathe a word of the cover-up.
Dan and Keertana would go to their graves without revealing to anyone what they knew.
His secret was safe.
The End
ed
Wolfe, She Cried Page 22
