Always Watching

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Always Watching Page 27

by Chevy Stevens


  He said, “It’s not about hate, Nadine. It’s about breaking free. Sometimes, we need to leave negative energies behind and open our hearts to a new family.”

  My anger surged again. “Are you actually saying that I’m a negative influence on my daughter? You don’t know anything about us, or our lives.”

  “He sees everything.” Aaron pointed to the heavens.

  So he still believed that the Light spoke to him. There was no way to argue with him. I had to just concentrate on Lisa. I had to get her out of there.

  I faced Lisa. “Baby, whatever you’ve done, whatever happened to you, we can work it out, okay? I love you no matter what.”

  She wouldn’t meet my eyes. I moved closer. “Lisa, please don’t shut me out. Can we just go somewhere and talk about this?”

  Aaron said, “She doesn’t want to go anywhere with you.”

  “She’s going to have to tell me that herself.”

  Lisa raised her head, met my eyes, her gaze again blank and flattened. She had disconnected from the emotions, put them all in a dark corner of her mind, where not even the strength of my love could force them out.

  She said, “I’m staying here. I want to be happy again.”

  “This place won’t make you happy.”

  She stared back at me. It didn’t matter what I said, even if told her about my own abuse. I’d seen that look in my patients’ eyes. Nothing would reach her now.

  Aaron said to her, “You’ve taken some important steps toward your spiritual growth. I’m proud of you.” He kissed her temple in a fatherly gesture. Lisa looked up at him, grateful. I wanted to pull his hands off her.

  I wanted to kill him.

  He said, “You can return to your room now, and I’ll speak with your mother. It’ll be all right.” He smiled at her.

  Her eyes slid in my direction, gauging my reaction, or seeking something—I wasn’t sure—but then she deliberately looked away as she passed by me.

  I tried one last time. “Lisa, please wait a minute. You don’t understand. He hurt me—when I was a child.” I gripped her arm. She pried my fingers off and hurried down the hall. I stared at her back.

  My daughter was gone.

  Joseph was now blocking the door. I paused, feeling the energy in the room shift and turn darker now that Lisa had left.

  Joseph took a step forward. “It’s time for you to leave.”

  Aaron said, “I’d like to talk to Nadine alone, Joseph.”

  Joseph’s face was calm, but there was a quick burst of anger in his eyes and a red flush at his neck. He hesitated, like he wanted to argue, but Aaron nodded, the motion dismissive, reminding me of someone releasing their pet dog from a hold position. Joseph bowed his head, closed the door behind him, and went through the other door out of Aaron’s office. I caught a quick glimpse of a darkened room. I also noticed a camera in the upper corner of the office and wondered if someone was watching.

  I turned back to Aaron.

  He smiled, and, his voice calm, full of confidence, said, “I can help you heal your relationship with your daughter, but you need to let go and trust—”

  “I don’t need your perverted help.”

  He looked pointedly in the direction Lisa had left. “Your daughter attacked you, Nadine. Nearly killed you.” I flinched at his brutal words, at the memory of lying in the darkened parking lot, wondering if I was going to die.

  “She’s young and she’s in pain—you’re going to destroy her.”

  “You had your chance to help her. You tried for years, did you not? But she was living on the streets, killing herself with chemicals. Now, in a matter of days, she’s sober, she’s happy, she trusts me. Why didn’t she tell you about her half brother? Why didn’t she trust you? Haven’t you been asking yourself the same thing?”

  I listened to Aaron, my blood pounding hard in my ears. Wanting to walk away but transfixed, every word he was saying exposing all my secret fears.

  Aaron continued. “When you were at the commune, I imagined you’d be such a good mother. I’d watch you with the other children at the river, wondering what kind of woman you’d grow up to be. But your mother took you away. Now I get to see your daughter and be part of her spiritual development. And you’re getting everything you’d wanted for your daughter, but you’re still not happy.”

  I finally found my voice. “You’re not what I wanted for my daughter.”

  “You have to be in control. Just like your mother couldn’t accept my leadership, you’re now doing the same. You’re not allowing me to be a gift to your daughter. You’re trying to destroy her happiness, but I’m saving her life.”

  “You ruin lives. You take vulnerable people and manipulate them into believing they’ll never find peace unless they listen to you.”

  “Isn’t that what you do? Make people think they need therapy, or they can’t handle their lives? I teach them that they have the answers already.”

  He was too confident. I’d still never seen him shaken. There was only one person I’d ever seen him react to: Willow. Could I use that now?

  “Is that what you did to Willow? Teach her?” I took a wild stab. “I know you killed her.”

  He didn’t even flinch, just looked me straight in the eye, and said, “Willow wasn’t ready for my help. Lisa, on the other hand, is ready to change. The question is, Can you let her go? Can you put her spiritual needs above your own?”

  I said, “If you touch her, if you do anything to her, I’ll make sure you spend the rest of your life in jail. I know I’m not the only one, Aaron. I’m going to hunt down every woman you ever hurt, and we will destroy you and this center—”

  The door opened at the side of the office, and Joseph walked in. He was wearing a windbreaker now, like he’d been outside.

  “It’s not right, the things she’s saying.” He pointed at me, then ran his hand through his hair as he paced. He must’ve been listening in from another room or watching the security cameras.

  Aaron said, “It’s okay, Joseph. I have it under control.”

  Joseph was shaking his head. “She wants to hurt you. I can feel it.” He was speaking fast and anxious. The small office was filled with the scent of his nervous sweat.

  I wasn’t sure if I should speak, or if that might add to his agitation, but I decided to risk it. “I don’t want to hurt Aaron. I just want to talk with him.”

  “I heard you! You said you were going to put him in jail.” Joseph was pointing at me again. “She said she’ll destroy the center. We have to stop her.”

  My heart was racing as adrenaline flooded my body. Joseph looked like he could turn violent at any moment, his body tight and coiled.

  Aaron said, “Everything’s okay. You can go back to your room.”

  Joseph looked back and forth between us. “No. I can see it, the poison on her. It’s climbing up her arm.” His eyes widened, and I had to fight the urge to look at my arm, to see what he was seeing. But I knew there was nothing there.

  Speaking gently, Aaron said, “She’s not a threat. The Light is protecting us against her bad energy.”

  Joseph hesitated, looking at my arms again, then his body relaxed slightly, like whatever he’d seen before was now gone.

  Aaron said, “Joseph, please leave us alone now.”

  His face confused, Joseph nodded and left. He gave me one last look before he exited, his eyes red-rimmed and angry. I had the terrifying thought that if Aaron hadn’t calmed him down, Joseph would’ve attacked me a second later.

  I reached for the door behind me. I had to get out of there right now. Aaron noticed my movement and said, “You can tell the police anything you want, Nadine, but nothing will happen to me or the center.” He smiled.

  “We’ll see about that.” I left quickly, half expecting him to come after me, but I made it back to my car without mishap, not even running into a single member in the hallway on my way out. I considered looking for Lisa, but the building was too big, and there wasn’t anything
I had to say that she wanted to hear.

  As I drove away, I thought about how easily Aaron let me leave. I was no threat. I was nothing to him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The rest of the way back to the city, my breath was tight in my throat and my hands were shaking on the wheel, my stomach sick with nerves. I drove straight to the police station. The officer I spoke with said they would talk to Aaron and Joseph, and that they’d also bring Garret in for questioning, but I already knew he’d deny everything.

  Once I got home, I finally let myself cry. Now that I knew it was Garret who’d stolen Lisa from me, who’d sat at my dinner table smiling night after night, I felt betrayed, and even angrier at myself for not seeing the signs. So much was clear now. Her moodiness after each time he’d visited, her increase in drug use. I was hurt and disappointed that she hadn’t confided in me. It had been such a chaotic time, trying to finish my residency, Paul getting sick. Had I really been there for her? I’d tried, checking in with her daily, asking how she was doing, spending time with her, going to grief counseling together, in which she’d sat mute, but had I truly been present for her? Was I just so blindly trusting of Garret that I didn’t see him for what he was? I was also hurt—I’d loved him like he was my own child, opened my heart and life to him. Now I wanted to kill him myself, but I had to let the police deal with it.

  It wasn’t until later, when I was huddled in my housecoat on the couch, that I also let myself cry about the fact that my daughter was so lost to me that she’d been the one who attacked me. I thought of her visiting me in the hospital in Nanaimo, how she had turned away. Would we ever be able to get past this?

  The police called early in the morning. They’d spoken with Aaron, who had claimed that I’d shown up, pushed my way in, and had been abusive to some of his staff members. They also spoke to Lisa, who’d denied that Garret abused her. I attempted to defend myself to the police, but I knew how weak my justifications sounded, and, worse, how it must look to them: the Crown wasn’t going to pursue my case, so now I was making things up. The officer said, “They’ve made it clear you’re not welcome back. We understand that you’re upset your daughter is living there, but it seems like she wants to stay. It would be better if you just kept away in the future.”

  They were right. There was nothing left for me to do.

  * * *

  That day at work, I threw myself into my patients’ care—following up on Brandon’s meeting with a career counselor and consulting with Jodi’s dietician. Francine was stable, but still depressed and slightly agitated. I sat with her for a while. She called me Angela again, giggling about the nude painting she was working on and how we had to visit Mexico again soon. When it was time for me to go, her expression grew frightened, and she said, “I don’t like this hotel. I want to go home.” I reminded her that she was at the hospital, and she began to cry.

  I rubbed her back, trying to soothe. When that didn’t work, I spoke of Mexico, the clear blue water, the white sand, the tropical wind blowing and grabbing at your dress and hair as you walked on the beach, gliding across your sunburned skin in a caress. Finally, she fell asleep, a small smile on her sad face.

  Later, Kevin stopped by my office briefly, saying, “I got your message last night, but it was too late to call back. Everything okay?”

  I said, “Yes, I was going to ask you something, but I sorted it out myself.” I had already decided that I didn’t want him to know what had happened at the center.

  He gave me a questioning look. “You sure?”

  “I just have a lot going on at the moment.” I made a motion with my hands, pointing to all my paperwork. “And trying to play catch up.”

  He nodded and said, “Well, have a good day.” There was a bemused expression on his face, and I wanted to explain further, but before I could say anything else, my phone rang. He gave a wave and left my office.

  * * *

  The following evening I was brewing tea in the kitchen, thinking about Francine, who’d finally been placed in a good nursing home with an art program, one bit of bright news, when I thought I heard a noise outside. I peeked out the window but couldn’t see anything. Wondering if it was the cat, I pushed open the door. It fell closed behind me. I paused, calling “Kitty?” as I looked into the backyard. There was no meow in response, nothing moved in the grass. I glanced to my left. The motion sensor light in my neighbor’s yard blinked on, casting odd shadows. Had the cat set it off, or something larger? I strained my ears, listened for footsteps. In the distance I heard a vehicle start up, then drive away fast, its tires squealing.

  That night I slept fitfully, waking every hour or so, my heart palpitating at the slightest creak in the house. The next day, I called another psychiatrist at the hospital to cover me, then phoned Corporal Cruikshank in Shawnigan. She told me that the officers had contacted her the previous evening, after they went to the commune to speak with Aaron, so she already knew what had happened.

  I had a hard time not raising my voice in frustration when I told the officer that I had not made these events up. She was very professional, careful to keep her own voice neutral, and said that someone in Victoria would still be speaking to Garret. But she warned me it likely wouldn’t come to anything unless Lisa was willing to make a statement, which we both doubted. She then also suggested I stay away from the commune and let them handle it from now on. I was just making things worse and potentially damaging my case. I agreed.

  I had also told her about the noise in my backyard, and the vehicle driving off. She suggested that I have a security system installed, for peace of mind. It wasn’t a bad idea. After we hung up, I made a few calls to alarm companies and arranged to have one installed as soon as possible. I tried to busy myself around the house for the afternoon, but I kept stopping and staring into space, Lisa’s words haunting me: It started when I was thirteen.

  When I thought about Garret’s hands on Lisa, every time I remembered leaving them alone, guilt tied my guts into knots. I couldn’t stand thinking he got away with this—thinking he could do this to some other little girl.

  I grabbed my purse and drove to his studio. When I got to his house, a young mother was walking her preteen daughter to their car, waving and smiling good-bye to Garret. What would’ve just seemed like a friendly return smile on his face before now disgusted me. I waited until the car drove off, then got out of mine and walked down to his studio, where he was framing some photos. When he heard my footsteps, he spun around, smiling when he recognized me.

  “Nadine! You came to see the studio. Perfect timing. I just—”

  “I know, Garret. I know what you did.” I’d come there in anger, wanting to confront and rage, but now I wanted to cry. This was a boy I’d watched grow up, a boy I’d held when he cried at his father’s funeral. How did this happen?

  He looked confused. “What’s wrong?”

  “How could you?” My words were a plea, begging him to make me understand, though I never would. “How could you do those things to Lisa?”

  He stepped back, his hand out in defense. “I don’t know what lies she told you—”

  “I know you abused her.”

  I searched his eyes, hoping for a sign of shame—some remorse. But he’d recovered now, and his face was just angry.

  “Lisa’s a drug addict and a thief. She’d lie about anything.”

  “She wouldn’t lie about this. I know you did it—and that you drugged her last week. Your father would be ashamed of you.” Paul would have been devastated to find out his son was a child molester, one who’d abused his own sister.

  “My father would know that I didn’t do anything.” His voice was almost a yell now. “My father loved me.”

  “I loved you too—and so did Lisa. You took advantage of that.”

  Garret was trying to get himself under control, taking some breaths, running his hand through his hair. “Nadine, you know me better than this.”

  “I thought I knew you.”
<
br />   “I would never touch her—she’s my sister. But she’s messed up on drugs, and she lies when she’s stoned. She was just saying this crap to hurt you.”

  For a moment, I faltered. Was he right? Then I remembered the look in her eyes. No, Lisa may have lied about many things, but that wasn’t one of them.

  Garret leaned back against the table, pushing a frame to the side as though clearing a spot for his hand, but something about the movement didn’t seem natural. Then I saw the photos on the table. One caught my eye. Anyone else would’ve just seen the shape of a woman’s back as she huddled on a mattress. But I knew my daughter, knew every curve and bump of her spine. It was Lisa. I stepped around Garret and pulled it out from under the others, studied it in shock. It looked like the same room I’d found her in. When had the photo been taken?

  Garret quickly said, “She signed the release.”

  Thoughts crashed into my mind. Did he take the photos after he’d drugged her? What else did he make her do? Is this what had pushed her to join the commune? Rage and helpless anger at how my family had broken apart swept through my body. I thrust out the photo, “What is this?”

  Garret said, “It’s a project I’m working on. Lisa needed money.” He sounded defensive but also nervous. His gaze kept flicking to the photo.

  “What else did you do to her, Garret?” My voice was steel, my body stiff.

  “Nothing. I told you, she wanted money. She was still doing drugs. She lied to you about that too. She’s sick, Nadine. She’s an addict.”

  He was lying again, blaming Lisa for everything, each word out of his mouth making me think of Aaron, of how they justify the evil things they do. And Garret was going to keep lying, to the police, to other little girls, to their mothers.

  Still holding Lisa’s photo in one hand, I spun around and ripped Garret’s photos off the studio wall, hurling them to the ground, frames smashing and glass shards flying everywhere.

  Garret was trying to grab my wrists as he yelled, “What the hell are you doing?” I yanked free. He lifted me from behind, dragging and pushing me out of the studio, while I clawed and kicked at him. I landed a good wallop across his mouth.

 

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