Recluse: Wolfes of Manhattan Two

by HELEN HARDT

  “I assure you I’m highly qualified.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s okay. Every new patient does it. My partner and I have had countless other professionals accuse us of practicing voodoo, but hypnosis is real, and it’s very effective.”

  I said nothing.

  “Have you been having any symptoms?”

  “Like what? I’m in perfect health.”

  “Stress, Mr. Wolfe. Nervousness? Rapid heartbeat?”

  “No. Not really.”

  She scribbled some notes on her pad.

  “What can I help you with today?”

  “I need to find something.”

  “Something you lost?”

  “In a way. There’s something in the back of my mind. Something I don’t quite recall, but I know it’s there.”

  “And you feel it’s important that you recall this event?”

  “Yeah. My family’s wellbeing may depend on it.”

  “Do you want to explain that further?”

  “I think you probably know. My father died under…odd circumstances. Everyone in the family has been implicated in some way. None of us had anything to do with it.”

  “And you think this buried event might help your family prove that?”

  “Honestly? I don’t know. I really don’t. But I feel very strongly that I need to bring it to the surface, and I need to do it now. It’s tormented me for far too long.”

  “How so?”

  “It’s hard to explain.”

  “You’re talking to a psychiatrist, Mr. Wolfe. I’ve heard it all. Try your best to put it into words.”

  “Pardon my language, but the only thing that describes it accurately is a mindfuck.”

  “Again, I’ve heard it all. Speak your mind, and don’t worry about profanity. It won’t upset me.”

  I nodded.

  “Can you describe this mindfuck?”

  “That’s just it. I can’t. But it’s there. Always. I suppress it most of the time, but it never goes away. It’s always there, hiding in the back of my mind, and I can’t root it out. I can never find the key.”

  “So you want me to help you find the key.”

  “If there is one.” I gulped. “I’m afraid there might not be a key.”

  There is no key.

  I’d never named that painting. It was officially “Untitled by Roy Wolfe.” The red backgrounds, and then the red and blue, the descent into the depths of hell. The black and dark blue, hell itself. The flecks of gold here and there, when something tried to poke its way out, but it never did.

  The speck of white for…

  Fuck.

  A priest’s collar.

  That was the speck of white.

  The fucking speck of white.

  “Father Jim,” I said.

  “Who’s Father Jim?”

  “Our parish priest. He and my father were…” What had they been? Certainly not friends, but my father had given exorbitant amounts of money to Father Jim’s ministry.

  “They were what?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Why did you say his name?”

  “I was thinking about one of my paintings. It hangs in the lobby of our building. I’ve gotten offers in the seven figures for it, but I never sold it.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t need the money.”

  “Have you sold other paintings?”

  “Yeah. Of course.”

  “So why not this one?”

  “It’s too…”

  Too what? Too personal? All my work was personal. Any artist who created something impersonal wouldn’t be in business for long. Individuals had to feel something when they looked at art. If it wasn’t personal to me, how could it be personal to them?

  “Yes?”

  “I’m not sure. I just can’t sell it.”

  She scribbled more notes.

  “Why don’t you describe this painting to me.”

  “You can see it in the lobby of the Wolfe building.”

  “I can probably see it on your phone.”

  “Oh, yeah. Of course.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and pulled up a photo of the painting in question.

  “No,” she said, “that’s not what I mean. I’d love to see it, but that’s not what I’m after right now. I want you to describe it to me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it has meaning to you.”

  “All my work has meaning to me.”

  “Yes, but this one you’ve kept, despite offers of purchase. I want to hear you describe it in your own words.”

  I handed her my phone. “You want to look at it while I describe it?”

  “Sure.” She took the phone from me. “It’s lovely. How big is it?”

  “It’s a large piece. Five by six feet.”

  She nodded. “All right. Describe it to me.”

  “The base is crimson, a bright red.”

  “Yes, I see. Why? What were you feeling when you painted the piece?”

  “It’s an older piece. I’ll have to remember.”

  “All right. Do you want to try some guided relaxation? That might help.”

  My nerves sizzled along my arms. Guided relaxation. That was why I’d come, after all. Still, the thought unnerved me.

  “We can continue with talking if you’d prefer,” Dr. Woolcott said.

  I shook my head, determined to be strong. To do what I’d come to do. “No. Let’s do it.”

  “All right, Mr. Wolfe. Close your eyes.”

  43

  Charlie

  Apparently I put my career over my social life. That was what the Cosmo quiz indicated, anyway. No surprise there, except now I was in love with one of the owners of the business where I was employed. Still, I hadn’t missed any work my first week.

  Man, had it really only been a week?

  It felt like a year. Not in a bad way, but so much had occurred. Now, here I was, waiting outside while one of the Wolfe heirs was in therapy.

  Surreal.

  Yeah, I was a little tense. My skin felt tight around my arms, and I kept rubbing at them furiously, trying to ease the shrink-wrapped feeling.

  Wasn’t helping.

  Roy had been in with the therapist for a half hour already. I considered that a success. Half of me had expected to see him again after five minutes alone with her.

  I truly hoped she could help him find whatever he was hiding so deeply within himself. Even if it didn’t help us with the Derek Wolfe case, at least it would help Roy.

  Roy was my priority above all else, even my job at this point. Though my job was pretty close. I mean, Cosmo couldn’t be wrong.

  I scoffed lightly at my own sarcasm as I leafed through the rest of the magazine, seeking something of substance. Nope. Not interested in creating the perfect smoky eye. Not interested in the sexual exploits of people who told their experiences to a magazine. Did people really have this much sex?

  Boy, was I out of touch with reality.

  Best birth control? Still not interested. The pill worked fine for me.

  I finally closed the magazine and threw it back on the end table next to my chair.

  Loudly, apparently, because the pretty receptionist looked up. “Can I get you anything?”

  “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

  But I wasn’t fine. I was…something. Not worried, exactly. Roy was in there with a doctor who came highly recommended. Concerned. Yeah, I was concerned.

  Roy was stronger than even he knew. All the Wolfes were, having grown up with Derek Wolfe as a father. Lacey had confided in me a little while we were working on the deceased Wolfe’s will. The man was ice cold. A master manipulator. A shrewd businessman with questionable ethics.

  No surprise he ended up on ice.

  But who had killed him? I felt certain none of his children were involved, and I knew Lacey wasn’t. Yet someone out there had implicated all of them.

  No arrests had been made. The Wolfe ki
ds were simply persons of interest. Of course their fingerprints would be in his penthouse. They were his kids. They probably visited him from time to time.

  Except they really didn’t. They all hated him.

  Still, for family functions. All but Rock had attended Derek’s sixtieth birthday bash at the penthouse a week before the murder. Even Lacey had attended, as his lawyer. For their fingerprints to be there was no big deal, as far as I could see.

  But I wasn’t a detective. Or a lawyer.

  My phone buzzed. I pulled it out of my purse. Blaine? Again?

  “Excuse me,” I said to the receptionist as I left the office to take the call in the hallway.

  “Hello,” I said nonchalantly, trying to hide the tension I felt from head to toe.

  “Evening, Charlie,” Blaine said. “Are you free?”

  “Not really. What do you want?”

  “I was wondering if the information I gave you proved valuable in any way.”

  “We don’t know yet.” Then I berated myself. Why should I tell him anything?

  “I got a phone call today,” he said, “from someone I think you might find interesting.”

  “Oh? If it’s important to the case, you should contact Lacey, not me.”

  “Lacey and I don’t have the rapport that you and I have.”

  I rolled my eyes and said nothing. Denying the rapport would do me no good.

  He cleared his throat. “I’d like to meet you again. To give you more information.”

  “Why not give it to me now?”

  “I don’t want to use the phone. It’s…delicate.”

  I rolled my eyes again. But the previous information he’d given me had proven fruitful, so I didn’t want to waste this opportunity.

  “It’s late, Blaine. I can’t meet you now.”

  “It’s eight-thirty, Charlie.”

  “I’m…busy.”

  “Tomorrow evening, then. Dinner.”

  “Tomorrow’s Saturday.”

  “I’m aware of that. Do you have plans?”

  I hoped I did. With Roy. But the fact of the matter was Roy and I hadn’t discussed it. “I’m free. What time?”

  “Seven-thirty. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  “I’ll meet you there. Text me the restaurant.”

  “I thought I’d make you dinner at my place.”

  Uh…hell, no. “No, Blaine. A restaurant or nothing.”

  “I guess you don’t want this information, then.”

  Really? He was going to play that game? “I guess I don’t.” I was about to end the call when—

  “Fine. A restaurant. I’ll text you.”

  “Good enough.”

  “Goodbye, Charlie.”

  “Bye.” This time I ended the call for real.

  Another ten minutes had passed. What was going on with Roy? Before I could enter the office once more, though, my phone buzzed again.

  This time it was Lacey.

  “Hello?” I said, probably sounding more exasperated than I should have to my boss.

  “Hey, Charlie,” she said. “Sorry to bother you on Friday night.”

  “No bother,” I said, trying to sound like I meant it. “What’s up?”

  “Rock got a call from Father Jim Wilkins tonight.”

  “Oh?”

  “He said you’d been asking some odd questions.”

  “I only called to reconfirm the time for the memorial,” I said. “We spoke for all of five minutes.”

  “You’re not in any trouble, so don’t worry,” she said. “Rock hardly knows the guy—hasn’t seen him in forever—but apparently Derek kept his parish going all these years.”

  “He’s probably after more money,” I said. “Now that Derek’s gone, he’s afraid his coffers will dry up.”

  Lacey laughed. “You sound just like Rock. That’s almost exactly what he said verbatim.”

  “He volunteered some information. He told me he’d given all the Wolfe kids their first communion, and he also said Derek doted on Riley.”

  “Doted is hardly a fair word.”

  “He probably didn’t know about…” I couldn’t finish. Saying the words made me feel…dirty.

  “Right. Are you sure that’s all you talked about?”

  “It was a short conversation. I didn’t ask him anything. Like I said, he volunteered it.

  “Good enough for me,” Lacey said. “Thanks, Charlie. Again, sorry to bother you.”

  I walked back into the office and took my seat. The Cosmo still sat on the table. Nearly an hour had passed, and Roy showed no sign of coming out of Dr. Woolcott’s office.

  “This isn’t unusual,” the receptionist offered, as I glanced around the room nervously. “These late appointments often go on for an hour or so later because she doesn’t have anyone else waiting.

  I nodded.

  This was important. I could wait.

  44

  Roy

  The pine trees were thick in the woods. The needles bristled against my cheeks, prickling me. Though it was daylight, the trees and shadows obscured the light, and I squinted to maintain my vision.

  The light ahead seemed just out of reach. Every time I got closer, another tall and narrow pine tree popped out, its branches impeding my progress.

  More trees.

  More trees.

  More trees.

  Snakelike roots protruded from the ground. I had to maneuver around them lest I trip over one and fall.

  I tripped only once.

  Now I had the dance down. The roots—they had a design. Once I figured out the puzzle, I could skate around them smoothly.

  The trees, though. They kept popping up.

  And I got colder.

  The wind whipped through me, leaving icy shards on my skin.

  But I wore a coat.

  Weird. I didn’t remember putting on a coat. But suddenly it was there, a down parka, and my arms were no longer cold, and the icy shards warmed into coziness.

  Keep going, a voice said. Just keep going.

  Was the voice inside my mind? It seemed to drift into me along with the wind, but it didn’t sound like my voice. Didn’t sound like a man at all.

  It was a woman’s voice.

  Keep going. Keep going.

  I moved along, now warm inside my parka, dancing around the roots as they presented at my feet.

  But the trees. They never stopped. Never ended. Just when I thought I’d gotten closer to the light, more trees appeared. They popped up like they did in a child’s storybook.

  Pop. Pop. Pop.

  So much to get through. So dense was this forest. So many layers to peel. So many. So many.

  Onward I trudged, through the dense foliage, over the tangled roots. Warm now, clothed in the parka, the down insulation like a fire on a hearth.

  Keep going. Keep going. Keep going.

  I inhaled deeply, gathering my courage and my strength. Keep going, I said to myself, closing my eyes. Keep going. It’s getting easier. You figured out the roots, you found a coat to keep you warm. Only the trees left to master.

  Only the trees.

  I opened my eyes.

  A clearing. No more trees. And in the distance, a metal cube stood.

  I walked toward it slowly, slowly, slowly.

  Until I could see what it was.

  An elevator.

  A fucking elevator.

  And lying on the ground in front of it was…

  A key.

  My eyes popped open.

  “Mr. Wolfe?”

  Where the hell was I? My arms were still warm until I regarded them. I no longer wore the parka, and goosebumps popped out from the cold. Yes, my arms were cold again. Cold like they’d been…

  “Was I in a forest?” I asked.

  “You seemed to be,” Dr. Woolcott said.

  “But why? I’ve never been in a forest in my life. I’m not really an outdoors person.”

  “You were inside your mind. Your mind created the for
est as a barrier to the memory you seek. It’s quite common.”

  “Forests?”

  “Forests. Mountains. Water. All are barriers. One patient of mine actually created a black hole.”

  “So buried memories are common?”

  “I wouldn’t say common, exactly, but more common than you might think.”

  “Why? I finally got through the forest, finally made it to a clearing…and then pop. Here I am. Why didn’t it work?”

  “It did.”

  “But it didn’t. I found the key. Actually saw it lying in front of an elevator, but then suddenly I’m back here.”

  “I understand your frustration, but you made great progress for your first session.”

  “But now I’ll have to start all over.”

  She shook her head. “It will be easier the next time. You’ll have a coat, and you already know how to get through the tapestry of roots on the ground.”

  “Wait. How do you know about that?”

  “I was guiding you. Instructing you.”

  “You showed me how to get through the forest?”

  “No. I simply gave you the tools to get through yourself.”

  “The coat?”

  “I suggested it.”

  “You suggested it, and all of a sudden it was there? I don’t understand.”

  “I can’t make you do anything during hypnosis, Mr. Wolfe. I can only suggest. You want to get to the bottom of this. If you didn’t, you would have ignored my suggestion for the coat.”

  “How did the coat just appear?”

  “You made it appear. This isn’t real life. It’s in your mind. You can make anything appear in your mind. As an artist, you know that better than anyone.”

  “If I wanted to get there, why did I stop?”

  “It’s a normal response,” she said. “You’ve buried this thing for so long that it will be difficult for you to find it. Part of you wants to take the easy route. Keep it buried. But part of you wants very much to find it, to deal with it and be rid of it. It’s that part that I try to bring out of you.”