"A psychic imprint?"
"A record of her thoughts and emotions. He is the same age as she was when she died, correct?"
"Yes. Seven."
"He lives in the same house, in the same room, and in the same emotional environment, spoiled by his parents, aware of the hostility that members of his family bear toward him."
Dr. Parker's wheeled chair edged forward. "It is possible that what Patrick perceives is not something happening now, but something that happened twelve years ago. Being on the same wavelength as Ashley, he may have access to the psychic trace of her thoughts and feelings-some very powerful ones — and is perceiving them as if they are occurring in the present.
"In a way, it is like reading an autobiography in which you strongly identify with the hero. The events happened in the past, but you, when involved in the book, experience them as if they are occurring now. Or, it is like perceiving stars that are light-years away. That light was shining eons ago, but you see it now-at least, those people with the right equipment and focus perceive it now. Others cannot. Do you understand?"
I think so. . but then-then there is nothing I can do to change what he is perceiving. It was set twelve years ago."
The doctor nodded.
I rubbed my arms, chilled by the idea. Ashley's childish perceptions, selfishness, and quick anger were not a world inside which I wanted Patrick trapped.
"What about the cat?" I asked. "How do you explain that?"
"I don't explain anything. I offer theories, possibilities, nothing more."
"And one theory is?"
"Of course, you cannot rule out coincidence. A cat's life could easily span the twelve-year period, and cats, especially half-wild ones, will wander in and out of people's lives. Still, the timing is striking."
1 made my fingers still, though they wanted to tap with impatience.
"In folklore, cats have long been associated with the paranormal-with witches, for instance. They may have a certain sensitivity to psychic elements. If Patrick is experiencing Ashley's thoughts and feelings, the cat may be sensitive to those it recognizes as belonging to a little girl who cared for him."
"So November won't hurt Patrick."
I don't guarantee anything. I offer theories, possibilities" Yes, I know." I stood up, weary of his theories now, wanting answers, needing to know exactly how to help Patrick. I walked over to one of the windows filled with artificial flowers, then picked up a box of plant fertilizer.
"Just a little joke," Dr. Parker said.
I set it down. "What can I do to help Patrick? You have to understand-Ashley was a daredevil. She was often angry and mean-spirited. If your theory is correct, it scares me to think of Patrick being imprisoned inside her thoughts and feelings. Isn't there some way to get him free of her?"
"Well, if Patrick did not have the same family problems and situation as Ashley had, his connection to her psychic imprint probably wouldn't be as strong. I believe it would fade completely with time. Can you convince the Westbrooks to get him and themselves some therapy?"
Even if I could convince Emily, the others would never agree to it. I doubted that Adrian's opinion of psychologists was the only obstacle; ugly and personal things would come out, precisely the kind of things that no one in the family wanted to admit.
"I'll try again, but I think it's impossible," I said, frustrated. "I'm afraid I don't like your theory any more than my own."
He smiled. "Good. It's when we like our theories too much that we should be wary."
Dr. Parker gave me his card and told me not to hesitate to contact him. I emerged from his quiet office deep in thought and found myself in sudden bedlam. Classes were changing. A river of people flowed down the hall. I hesitated, then took the plunge, trying to make my way to the front door.
"Kate!"
At the sound of Sam's voice, I turned around.
"Over here."
I struggled to make my way toward him but was swimming upstream. He reached out and grabbed my hand, towing me to a wall of lockers.
"Looking for me?" he asked, smiling, propping an arm against a locker, framing me with his body. He was so good at it-getting close without touching.
"No."
He dropped his arm. "Well, maybe you could pretend."
"Sam, we're going to be late," a girl called to him.
"Go on, Sara," he answered. "Tell Campbell I'm finishing a test."
"Tell him yourself," the girl said, sounding annoyed.
Sam turned back to me. "So why are you here?"
"I was talking to Dr. Parker."
Sam grinned. "No, really."
"Really. Why would I make that up?"
"Because the man is flake-o, Kate."
I shrugged.
"You went to see him-like a counselor?"
"Yes. Joseph suggested him." The bell rang; the hallway cleared and grew quiet. "Dr. Parker has not only a background in psychology, but an interest in the paranormal."
Sam hooted softly.
"Just because you are unwilling to keep an open mind and consider all the possible causes-" He interrupted me. "The problem with keeping your mind open to impossible causes is that it distracts you from chasing down the real ones, from talking to the people who can definitely help you."
"Like who? If you have a suggestion, tell me. I'll follow up on it."
"Your mother."
I took a step back.
"I want to talk to her, Kate. I need her phone number or e-mail address."
Five years ago, my father had given me the contact information that she had sent for me. I had attempted several times to tear up the slip of paper but never succeeded. As if he had guessed I might do that, he'd also left the information with his attorney.
"Do you have it?" Sam asked.
"Not with me," I said brusquely.
"When you get back to your room, call and leave it on my voice mail, okay?"
I don't remember hiring you as a private investigator."
"You didn't."
"What makes you think you have the right to interfere with my family?"
His eyes narrowed. "You forget, this involves my family too."
"So you're picking up where your father left off, solving his case-" "Maybe."
"Proving my mother did it."
"No! That's no fair, Kate. You're jumping to conclusions."
"But it's a possibility, isn't it? Isn't it? And as much as I may despise my mother, I am not going to help you hang her."
I turned quickly to walk away. He grabbed my hand.
"Let go!"
He did, but he stood very close. "Listen to me, Kate. I am definitely interested in solving my father's case, and it is possible your mother is guilty, but that's not my main reason for pursuing this. You've gotten yourself mixed up with a vicious group of people, and I'm not going to stand by waiting for something to happen to you. You know that Patrick is in danger, but when it comes to yourself, you just don't get it."
The intensity of his eyes and voice made me feel shaky inside. There wasn't a nerve in my body unaware of him. "I get it. I'm scared."
Then let me help."
"Help Patrick, okay?"
He threw up his hands. "You just can't trust, can you?"
"Not easily," I said, and left.
When I picked up Patrick that afternoon, he handed me a note from his teacher addressed to his parents. I quickly parked the car and brought him and the sealed note back into school, hoping I could speak with the teacher. While Patrick stood in the pet corner of his classroom, silently watching a hamster in its cage, Miss Crichton explained that the rule that applied to counselors applied to teachers as well. Without permission, she could speak only to the parents.
By the time I got Patrick home and into his play clothes, I could guess what was in the note that I had placed in Adrian's mailbox: Patrick showed no interest in what was around him. I didn't know if it was Ashley or the hostility of the others that was draining him of his energy, but I found the seeping away of his spirit more frightening than the recent dares and danger he had encountered.