"He's right. This just proves how ill she is," Scott said. "She's making this up. Amory beat his own daughter? Fondled her? That's crazy, she's crazy, she just proved it."
"It's classic," Dr. Beadermeyer said from his staged pose by the fireplace. "Some patients fantasize so strongly that they begin to believe what their minds dredge up. It's usually things that they've always wanted, deep down.
"Your father was a handsome man, Sally. Girls have sexual feelings about their fathers. It's nothing to be ashamed of. The only reason you fantasize that he's come to you is because you wanted it so badly. The Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
beating part, the humiliating part, is just so you can forgive yourself for these feelings by making yourself helpless so that you couldn't prevent it."
"What a bunch of shit," Quinlan said. "You're Doctor Beadermeyer, I take it. Such a pleasure to finally meet you."
"Sorry I can't say the same about you. I'm here to take Sally back with me, and even though you're FBI there's nothing you can do about it."
"Why did you try to kidnap her from the Bonhomie Club three hours ago?"
"Alfred? What's he talking about?"
"A mere misunderstanding, my dear Noelle. I found out where Sally was. I thought I could simply take her with no fuss, no bother, but it didn't work out."
"It didn't work out?" Sally repeated. "You tried to kidnap me and shove a needle in my arm, and all you can say is it didn't work out?"
He merely smiled at her and shrugged again.
"He brought two goons with him, Noelle," Quinlan said. "All three of them grabbed Sally when she came out of the bathroom and tried to give her a shot." He turned back to Beadermeyer. He wanted very badly to wring the bastard's neck. "We nearly got you, you miserable excuse for a human. At least you have to have your rear window replaced."
"No problem," Beadermeyer said. "It wasn't my car."
"What is going on here?" Scott said. "Noelle told me that Sally escaped. Now she's with an FBI agent.
Doctor Beadermeyer told me Sally met this man in this hick town in Oregon and they're lovers. That's not possible. Sally, you're still my wife. What's going on here?"
Quinlan smiled benignly at all of them. "Why don't you just consider me a sort of lawyer for her? I'm here to see that you don't run all over her or that the good doctor here doesn't try to shove another needle into her."
He eyed Scott Brainerd. Tall, slim, beautifully dressed, but that handsome face of his looked haggard.
There were dark circles beneath his eyes. He didn't look happy about any of this, and more, he looked scared. He should. Quinlan could tell that he wasn't carrying a gun. He was nervous, part of him always moving, his hands fidgeting. He pulled a pipe out of the pocket of his lovely English jacket. A shoulder holster would ruin the line of that jacket. The bastard.
Quinlan said nothing more, just watched him light his pipe. He imagined that he used the delay to good advantage when he was in negotiations. It also gave his hands something to do when he was nervous or scared shitless.
"You're the man who took Sally away from me, aren't you? You're the one who broke into the sanitarium?"
James smiled at Beadermeyer. "Yeah, right on both counts. How are the German shepherds? They're fine dogs, both with a taste for good raw steak."
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"You had no right to break into my facility. I'll sue your butt off."
"Just be quiet, Alfred," Noelle said, "and you too, Mr. Quinlan. Sally, why don't you sit down? Would you like a cup of tea? You look exhausted. You need to rest. You're so thin."
Sally looked at her mother and slowly shook her head. "I'm sorry, Noelle, but I'm afraid you'd let Doctor Beadermeyer drug the tea.''
The woman looked as if she'd been hit. She looked frantic. She took a step toward Sally, her hand out.
"Sally, no, I'm your mother. I wouldn't hurt you. Please, don't do this. All I want is what's best for you."
Sally was shaking. James took her arm in a firm grip and led her to a small settee. He stayed close to her, knowing it was important for her to feel him beside her, feel the warmth of him, the solidness of him. He put his hands behind his head and eyed them all from beneath his lowered lashes.
He said to Scott Brainerd, who was now puffing furiously on his pipe, "Tell me about how you first met Sally."
"Yes, Scott, do tell him," Sally said.
"If I do, will you tell him to get the hell out of our lives?"
"It's a possibility," Quinlan said. "Tell you what I can promise for sure. I won't throw Sally in the slammer."
"Good," Noelle said. "She needs to be kept safe. Doctor Beadermeyer will see to it. He's promised me he would."
Their litany, Quinlan thought, their damned litany. Was Noelle a part of this? Or could she be this gullible? Couldn't she really see Sally? See that she was perfectly all right?
Scott began to pace, looking at Noelle, who was staring intently at her daughter, as if to read her thoughts, then at Beadermeyer, who was lounging in his large wing chair, trying to copy the damned agent.
"I met her at the Whistler exhibition at the National Gallery of Art. It was an exciting evening. They were displaying sixteen of Whistler's Japanese paintings. Anyway, Sally was there partying with her friends, like she always did. One of the Smithsonian lawyers introduced us. We talked, then had coffee. I took her to dinner.
"That's how it began, nothing more, nothing less. We discovered we had a lot in common. We fell in love.
We married."
Beadermeyer rose and stretched. "Vastly romantic, Scott. Now, it's late and Sally needs her rest. It's time for us to leave, Sally."
"I don't think so," Sally said, her voice as calm as could be. James felt the shaking in her arm. "I'm twenty-six years old. I'm perfectly sane. You can't make me go back with you. Incidentally, Scott, you didn't tell James why you neglected to mention that you worked for my father until after we were married."
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"You never asked, did you, Sally? You were caught up with your own career, all your fancy parties and wild friends. You didn't really care what I did. You never asked, damn you."
"I asked, but you never came right out with it. You told me it was a law firm and left it at that. I remember asking you, but you wouldn't give much out, ever."
Quinlan felt the ripple beneath the flesh of her hand. He squeezed slightly but kept quiet. She was doing just fine. He was pleased and optimistic. He was fast getting the measure of all three people. Soon, he thought, soon now.
Sally paused just a moment, then said calmly, "I certainly didn't care after I found out you were having an affair."
"That's a lie! I wasn't having an affair. I was faithful to you. I've always been faithful to you, even during these past six months."
Noelle cleared her voice. "This is leading nowhere. Sally, you're saying that you're sane, that indeed your father abused you in the sanitarium-''
"So did Doctor Beadermeyer. He had this creepy little attendant called Holland who liked to bathe me, strip me, fix my hair, and sit on the side of my bed just staring at me."
Noelle turned to Beadermeyer. "Is this true?"
He shrugged. "Just a bit of it. She did have an attendant named Holland. He's gone now. Perhaps once he might have been out of line. These things happen, Noelle, particularly when a patient is as sick as Sally is. As for the rest of it, it's just part of her illness-the delusions, the dark fantasies. Believe me, just as you believed your husband and Scott. Scott lived with her. He saw the disintegration. Isn't that right, Scott?"
Scott nodded. "It was frightening. We're not lying, Noelle."
Noelle St. John did believe them. Quinlan saw it on her face, the look of new resolve, the new certainty, the profound pain she felt.