by Ciana Stone
If she did, she wasn’t letting on. “We’ll get to the bottom of it, Max. I promise. Now get changed. I’ll meet you at the pier in ten minutes.”
Max watched her leave. Once he was alone, the room seemed to close in around him, like the walls had eyes. Doubts began to crash in. What good would it do if they got the information from Dr. Abernathy? He’d still be a prisoner. There was no way he was going to be allowed to leave the estate. What good was knowing what was wrong with him if it made no difference in his future?
Anxiety welled up in his chest like acid. He couldn’t allow himself to slide back into despair. For the first time there was real hope. He had someone who was interested in him. He couldn’t allow despondency to erase the joy that gave, even if the joy wasn’t meant to last forever.
The track on the CD changed. Max’s eyes got a faraway look in them as the song began. Confused visions ran through his mind—thrashing water, blood spreading out, a shark’s gaping jaws coming up from the depths, a cat sitting above a goldfish bowl, licking its chops and waiting, a demon’s face coming closer, ready to swallow him.
His mouth moved spasmodically, his throat convulsing and his body twitching. He couldn’t see the familiar sights around him. He was in a terrifying and bewildering world of his own. His fists clenched and unclenched.
As Max stood transfixed in terror, the volume of his pounding heart seemed to rival the music blasting from the speakers… the lyrics of the Beatles tune Maxwell’s Silver Hammer reverberating off the walls as he sank to the floor into a defensive crouch, his body tense and his fists clenched for battle.
Chapter Six
Nikki climbed back up on the catamaran and sat down beside Max. He watched as she wrung the water from her hair. Taking the catamaran out had seemed pointless to him. There was no wind. They’d only drifted around the point from the estate. Nikki pointed out that at least out of sight of the estate they didn’t have to worry about constantly being watched.
Max had to admit that the idea had been a good one. Not only did they not have to worry about someone overhearing anything she said, but the risk of someone noticing him as he attempted to communicate with her was greatly decreased.
They’d made progress in establishing the rudiments of a sign language, combining things they learned from a book on American sign language with things they came up with that were meaningful to the two of them. It was becoming easier with each passing day to communicate and he found himself with more energy than he’d had in a long time, wanting to “talk” to her all day. He still wrestled with telling her that he could communicate in another way, but hadn’t reached a decision. His grandfather had advised caution, but told Max that in the final analysis, the decision was his. If he trusted Nikki enough to tell her, then Simon wouldn’t argue against it.
Max admired Nikki as she lay down on her stomach and propped her chin on her hands. She tanned very quickly and the light areas of skin exposed by the twisting of her suit drew his eyes like a magnet.
Nikki rolled over and stared at the sky with a frown gathering on her face. “There has to be some way to find out what we need from that doctor.”
It’d been nearly a week and still they hadn’t come up with a plan. Max wasn’t sure it was really that important. What difference did it make what the files said? They knew he wasn’t mentally handicapped. But Nikki was obsessed with the notion. She had to know.
Max shrugged and made a motion to tell her to forget about it, at least for the time being.
“No way,” she argued and sat up. “Besides I did have one idea.”
Max raised his eyebrows in question.
“I thought maybe I could schedule an interview with him.”
An interview? What good with that do?
She frowned at his motions. “I take that to mean you think it’s a bad idea?”
He shrugged.
“Well, I think it’s at least worth a try. I can say it’s for the university paper. I did write for it—once—so it won’t really be a lie.”
Max gave her a doubt-filled look and she grimaced. “Okay, maybe it’s not the best idea, but it’s all we have. Besides at least I can get a look around. And who knows maybe I can find a way to get a look at the files.”
Oh yeah, right. Max rolled his eyes.
“Well, I’m going to do it.”
Fine. He knew the appropriate sign for that. He seemed to use it a lot in their conversations. Nikki was very stubborn, he’d discovered. Once her mind was made up about something she wouldn’t let it go.
She smiled and lay back down, shading her eyes so that she could look at him. With their increasing communication came new realizations. One important discovery she’d made was that even though Max probably qualified as a genius on the intellectual scale, emotionally he was not as mature as his years.
He wasn’t what she’d consider emotionally unbalanced, just a little immature. Due to the fact that it’d been years since he’d a normal relationship with anyone, he was out of practice about nuances in adult relationships.
Added to that was what she’d learned about his relationship with his parents. Aside from providing him with material things, they stayed away from him as much as possible. He felt like an outcast, unwanted and only tolerated out of obligation, not love. From Osgood and Louise, he was given the kind of attention and affection a small child is given, and that only in small doses when his parents were not watching.
Everything Max understood about adult human interaction had been learned before he was sent home from war with PTSD and while he remembered everything intellectually, and possibly even emotionally, it had been so long since he'd functioned as a normal adult, his skills were atrophied. Nikki wasn’t a psychologist, but even a layman could understand how living as he had would serve to damage his emotional maturity.
It made things rather difficult for her. She saw the way Max looked at her. She knew he was attracted to her. The feeling was mutual and it was hard not to act on the attraction. But how could she, without feeling like she was taking advantage of him?
While he might be one of the most intelligent men on the planet, emotions had little to do with intellect. How long had it been since he was involved with a woman? What would happen if she allowed herself to get physically intimate with him?
As much as she wanted to think she was protecting Max, she knew that she was also protecting herself. She and Max had grown very close, intimate in a way she’d never been with a man. They shared their innermost feelings and fears. She knew it was a new experience for him, but it was for her as well. She’d never trusted anyone as she did him and it made her afraid. If the intimacy moved to another level, she’d be putting even more faith in him. And then what? What if he didn’t live up to that faith? Could she face that possibility?
At summer’s end, the Westons would return and she’d have to leave. What would happen to her and Max then?
The thought of leaving him a prisoner and walking away had become unthinkable. But what choice did she have? Unless it could be proven that he was competent to take care of himself, there was no chance. She had to find a way to prove beyond all doubt that Max was a fully functional human being, capable of making his own choices and being on his own.
Max signed out one of their favorite phrases. A penny for your thoughts.
Nikki smiled. “Thinking about you.”
Me? He pointed at himself.
“Yeah, you. My favorite subject.”
Max’s smile vanished. His eyes met hers and held. God help her, she wasn’t falling in love with Max. She was already there.
“Doctor Abernathy will be with you in a few moments, Ms. Richards.” The receptionist smiled and indicated toward the waiting room. “If you’d please have a seat?”
“Thanks.” Nikki took a seat and looked around. The waiting room was tastefully and expensively decorated. Clearly, psychiatry had been very good to Charles Abernathy.
Using the name of a casual friend who’d w
ritten for the university paper, Nikki was granted an appointment with the doctor. She’d been surprised at just how easy it was. Now if she could just manage to get the conversation around to Max.
The inner door opened, and the receptionist gestured to her. “The doctor will see you now. If you’ll follow me.”
Nikki looked around as she followed the receptionist down the hall. Her pace slowed as another woman exited a room, giving Nikki a glimpse inside. All she had time to see was a wall filing system, a desk and a computer. The receptionist stopped and knocked on a door at the end of the hall.
“Yes?” came a male voice from inside.
Pushing open the door, the receptionist gestured for Nikki to enter. “Ms. Richards, sir.”
“Thank you.” Charles Abernathy stood and walked around his desk. “Ms. Richards. Good day.”
Nikki studied him as he crossed the room to greet her. He was slight of build, around five-eight, with thin brown hair that was graying at the temples. Bright hazel eyes peered from behind stylish rimless glasses.
“Thank you for taking the time to see me, Doctor.” Nikki shook his hand then let him guide her to the couch along one wall of the office.
The doctor took a seat across from her in a thickly padded wing chair. “My pleasure. Always happy to do my part for young eager minds.”
Nikki gave him a half-hearted smile and pulled out a small digital recorder she’d borrowed from Max. “Do you mind?”
“No, not at all.”
“Thanks.” She turned it on and placed it on the low table between them. “I’m doing a series on disabilities and people who overcome them. I wanted to focus one of the articles on speech disorders.”
Charles looked at her in surprise. “An interesting concept, yet hardly my specialty, Ms. Richards.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She dug out her notebook and flipped through the pages, pretending to look for something. “I was sure I read a paper written by you on speech disorders, physiological versus psychological pathology or something like that.”
“No, no I don’t believe so.”
“Are you sure? I know I’ve got it somewhere. Heck! Anyway, I thought you had worked with people who suffer from speech disorders.”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“Oh, so you’ve never had a case in which the patient had some type of speech disorder, lost the ability to speak, anything like that?”
“No.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, I seem to remember reading something about a girl who suddenly lost the ability to speak and you were her doctor.”
Charles straightened in his seat. “I believe you’re mistaken, Ms. Richards.”
Nikki flipped through her notebook again. “Oh, hold on, I’m sorry. It wasn’t a little girl. It was a young man. Richard Maxwell Weston, III. Sorry, my mistake.”
Charles squirmed in his seat. “Ms. Richards, at the risk of sounding redundant, I believe you’re mistaken.”
“I don’t think so, doctor. It was Maxwell Weston and you were the doctor who diagnosed him. Surely you can’t have forgotten something like that. Not considering who the Westons are.”
Charles stood with a glower. “I’m afraid that’s all the time I have, Ms. Richards.” He hurried to the door. “Good day.”
Nikki picked up the recorder and tucked it in her oversized handbag along with her notebook. She stopped, facing the doctor at the door. “Thank you so much for your time, Dr. Abernathy. I’m sure your…comments will make a welcome addition to my article.”
She stepped out and the door closed behind her. She didn't see anyone around so she dashed to the door she had seen the filing system in and tapped lightly. No answer. Carefully and slowly she opened the door. There was no one inside.
Just as Nikki started to enter the room the doctor’s voice sounded from the end of the hall. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Ladies room,” she said as she turned. “Looking for the ladies room.”
“In the reception area.”
“Thanks.”
Nikki hurried down the hall, she bolted through the reception room. She was sure the doctor was hiding something. But at least she knew where the file room was. Now she just had to figure out how to get back in and have a look around.
Richard was jarred from sleep by the persistent buzz of his cell phone. Turning on the light, he answered. “Yes?”
“Richard, it’s Mark. Sorry to call at such an ungodly hour, but I just had a rather disturbing meeting with Charles.”
If Mark was disturbed, it was reason enough for Richard to be. “Explain.”
“It seems that a young reporter showed up at Charles’ office asking questions about Maxwell.”
Richard’s initial reaction was panic. “What did Charles say?”
“Nothing. He threw the woman out.”
“I assume he got a name.”
“Yes, Jan Richards.”
Richard considered it for a moment. “Call Charles and calm him down. And make sure this reporter doesn’t ask any more questions. And while you’re at it, make sure Charles doesn’t have any documentation on Maxwell aside from the legal documents signed by Judge Bellamy.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks, Mark. I knew I could count on you.”
“Always, my friend. Sleep well.”
Richard signed off, and lay back. It was probably nothing. Charles was prone to overreacting. Mark would take care of things.
Richard turned off the light and closed his eyes. His mind turned to more pleasant matters, such as getting home and setting his plan into motion to win over Nikki Morgan. Yes, indeed. He had big plans for her.
Nikki and Maxwell were just finishing lunch on the terrace. She was laughing at something he “said” when Osgood walked out, accompanied by Mark Robinson. Maxwell immediately when into his role of the dullard, looking down at the tabletop.
“Ms. Morgan, Maxwell, Mr. Robinson is here.” Osgood announced.
“Hello, Maxwell.” Mark kept his eyes on Nikki as he spoke to Maxwell, then stepped up to the table and extended his hand to her. “How are you faring? Maxwell giving you any trouble?”
“Not really,” she replied then thought again. It would not do to let anyone think that Maxwell was treating her any different than he did anyone else. “All things considered.”
She felt the light kick Max gave her under the table. He did not look up, but continued to stare at the tabletop.
Mark glanced over at him with obvious disinterest. “Yes, I understand. Tell me, Miss Morgan, do you have any experience writing?”
“Not really.”
“You’ve never been published?”
“Just in the college paper.”
“Umm, you might know a young lady I just recently met. Jan Richards.”
Warning bells went off in Nikki’s head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Really? She said she worked on the university newspaper.”
“A lot of people do.”
“Yes, undoubtedly.”
Deborah, one of the maids, appeared at the door. “Mr. Gaynor? There’s delivery you need to sign for.”
“Excuse me.” Osgood hurried from the room.
“Well, it’s nice to see you again, Miss Morgan,” Mark said with a smile and nodded at Maxwell. “Maxwell. Have a pleasant day.”
“Yeah, you too,” Nikki said and watched him leave then looked at Max. “Just how often does this guy drop by the house when your parents are gone?”
Max indicated zero with his fingers.
Nikki leaned on the table, speaking in a whisper. “There’s no way he knows Jan Richards. She dropped out last semester and I don’t even know if she’s still around here. That’s why I used her name when I went to see Abernathy.”
Abernathy told Robinson about the visit. Max felt the first stirrings of alarm. It was not wise to make the enemy suspicious. He communicated to her to meet him in his room in ten minutes, then swiped all of
the dinnerware off the table, jumped up, threw his chair into the pool and raced out.
Nikki hid a smile at the display. She met Osgood as he was rushing toward the sound.
“Just another temperamental fit,” she said as she passed him by. “I’m going to go to my room and get some work done on my paper. I’ll stop in and make sure Maxwell is down for his nap.”
Making sure Osgood wasn’t watching or following, she hurried toward the library. The door was closed.
“Damn!” She couldn’t hear what was being said through the thick doors.
Giving up on spying, she headed to Max’s room. He wasn’t there. “Max?” she called, checking the bathroom, the closet and the balcony.
“Where’d he go?”
Thinking that he’d show up since he said to meet her in his room, she sat down on the bed to wait.
Charles Abernathy wasn’t happy at what Mark had to say and nearly shouted into his cell phone. “I’ve already assured both you and Richard that I don’t have any documentation concerning Maxwell except the court order giving Richard and Helen legal guardianship of him.”
“Hold on.” Mark removed his Bluetooth earpiece and punched the speakerphone button on the cell phone. “Dead battery on the headset. Now, as I was saying…” He paused at his car, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one then leaned back against the car to continue his conversation. “Richard’s concerned with the incident that happened at your office. He thinks it’d be wise to have new equipment installed to ensure there’s no danger of anyone accessing sensitive information.”
“Whatever.” Charles gave in. “But I still think it’s unnecessary.”
“Perhaps, but better safe than sorry. Remember, if Richard goes down, everyone goes down with him.”
“All right! I said okay. Just do it.”
“Good.” Mark smiled and punched the disconnect on his phone then immediately, dialed another number.
“Robinson here. I want a level-three tap on Charles Abernathy,” he spoke into the speakerphone then climbed into his car.
