“Are you certain either of them were smokers?”
“I’m not actually sure. Ben is checking on it though.”
“Debbie Schaeffer is the murdered cheerleader to whose case Benjamin is assigned, correct?”
“That’s the one.”
“And Paige Lawson is?”
“Another case Ben is…was…is working,” I explained. “I’m not sure if it is still an open investigation or if they finally wrote it off as an accidental death. Something tells me it wasn’t an accident though.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I don’t know.” I shook my head. “Something just doesn’t feel right about it. I assumed Ben had told you about that particular incident.”
“By incident do you mean something involving you?”
“Exactly.”
“Ahhh, just a moment,” she nodded, “would this be the case where you recently showed up uninvited at the crime scene extremely disoriented and then passed out?”
“That would be the one.”
“Mmhmm, mmhmm.” She nodded again. “I do remember Benjamin telling me about that. I believe it is what actually triggered him calling me about you.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right. Although I’ve recently been informed that he and Felicity had been discussing my mental state for some time now.”
“I believe you are correct,” she agreed. “So what about this incident with Miz Lawson. It seems to be weighing on you somewhat.”
“Well, the big problem for me is that I have no memory of going there…to the crime scene… Not until I snapped out of whatever trance I was in anyway. And by then I just found myself handcuffed and sitting in the back of a squad car.”
“PTSD can manifest in various ways, Rowan. Selective amnesia is not beyond the realm of possibility for someone who has been subjected to the severity of emotional and physical trauma you have faced.”
“But I had sex with my wife last night…”
I simply blurted out the comment, appending it to the conversation whether it appeared to fit or not. The resulting silence lasted for enough heartbeats to tell me that I’d even managed to stun Helen with the seemingly misplaced announcement.
I don’t know that I consciously realized what I was saying until the words were out there for us both to hear, and by then it was too late. I could still make no real sense of it all, but pieces were falling into place to form a fuzzy image. The very subject that had been my impetus for this unscheduled visit was now revealed. In the process a subdued feeling was re-awakened, and the unnamed fear that had earlier made itself comfortable within me stood up and engaged in a formal introduction.
“Okay,” Helen finally answered, scrutinizing my face with her eyes. “Has there been a problem with intimacy between the two of you?”
It took a moment to dawn on me that I’d only spoken aloud the first half of the thought that kept replaying in my head. “No, I’m sorry, you don’t understand…” I sputtered. “What I mean is I had sex with my wife last night but I don’t remember it.”
“At all?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Then how do you know that this happened?”
“I got the message loud and clear from Felicity when we got up this morning.”
“You are certain then?”
“Oh yeah,” I nodded as I spoke. “No doubt in my mind.”
“I see,” she posed thoughtfully. “Did you tell her you had no recollection of it?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Not yet. I may be disturbed but I’m not insane. At least, I don’t think I am… I’m already walking a thin line with Felicity as it is. If I tell her something like that, she’ll have me committed.”
“I seriously doubt that,” she said with a shake of her head. “You know, this is very likely all part of the same post trauma stress.”
“I don’t know, Helen. Do you remember me telling you about the sleepwalking I’ve been doing over the past few months?” I asked, the viscid fear now running rampant through my veins and forcing the words out of my mouth as a confession.
“Of course.”
“And how I don’t remember any of it?”
“Here again, that is not unusual in cases of somnambulism, Rowan,” she offered. “And these nocturnal episodes are most likely due to the stress.”
“But I’m afraid that maybe all of it is tied together somehow. The sleepwalking, the blackouts, even Paige Lawson…”
“I agree with you,” she nodded. “Like I said, these things could be manifestations of PTSD.”
“I wish it were that simple,” I told her. “But I’m terribly afraid that there’s a different connection.”
“And that would be?”
“I’m starting to wonder if maybe I’m the one who killed Paige Lawson.”
CHAPTER 13
“You do not truly believe that now, do you, Rowan?” Helen asked me slowly and deliberately, but only after yet another long and uncomfortable pause.
“To be honest, I don’t know what to believe anymore,” I answered her. “And that’s starting to really scare me.”
I was amazed at how calmly I spoke considering the rampant terror that was now racing around inside me. The sudden revelation that I myself could be the person responsible for Paige Lawson’s death was almost more than I could bear to imagine. But it was a fact I felt I had to face head on. The simple truths were that Debbie Schaeffer’s spirit was very intent on my contact with the corpse; I had arrived at the crime scene in a demented state; and I couldn’t remember anything at all about going there.
Who was to say that I hadn’t already been there a few short hours before?
“I honestly believe that you are leading yourself down the wrong path,” Doctor Storm said with a look of deep concentration creasing her forehead. “You should look carefully at the facts which are before you and refrain from wild conjecture.”
“I am,” I answered.
“No, Rowan,” she replied sternly. “You are not.”
“What am I missing then?”
“Evidence, for one; motive, for another. Think about it. Did you even know this Paige Lawson?”
“No.” I shook my head and inhaled deeply from the cigarette in my hand. “Never heard of her before that night.”
“Then what motive could you have possibly had for killing her?”
“Insane people don’t always have easily discernible motives,” I replied.
“True. But you are not insane.”
“I’m not so sure about that. Maybe I was wrong earlier.”
“I, however, am. You are not insane.”
“Well, at least that’s one of us.”
“And since I am the one with the degree in psychology, let us assume that I am also the one who is correct on this point. All right?” She cocked her head to the side and flashed a quick smile when she spoke.
“Okay,” I couldn’t help but return the smile. Simply listening to her speak was quickly dulling the edge on the blade of fear that had been ripping through my gut.
“From what you have said, the crime scene was apparently devoid of any evidence of foul play-least of all, evidence of your participation in such an act.”
“Maybe I was careful,” I objected. “I’ve been involved in enough murder investigations to know what to avoid.”
“While sleepwalking? I sincerely doubt it, Rowan.” She shook her head. “For the sake of argument, let us forget for a moment that this is an incredibly rare occurrence. There are actually a few cases-a very few, mind you-involving acts of violence committed by sleepwalkers, but this one simply does not fit the pattern.”
“How’s that?”
“The tragedies like this that have occurred during episodes of nocturnal automatism have been driven by emotion. Responses to stimuli the sleepwalker experienced during waking hours. Stress and emotional upset. And while there may be a triggering incident, in most cases the stimulus has been in place over a long period.”
“Well,” I said, “stress is apparently what brought me here to begin with, right?”
“Yes, but let me finish,” she urged. “The crimes committed by sleepwalkers are commonly very brutal and born out of passion. For instance, there was a man who repeatedly stabbed his mother-in-law with a hunting knife; another bludgeoned his mother-in-law to death with a tire iron. Still another repeatedly stabbed and then drowned his wife.