May
Cambridge, Massachusetts
"I'm sorry to have to throw this at you during finals,
Melissa." Karen Novak's voice was hesitant. "If there was
any other way . . ."
"You want me to move out." It was no surprise. Melissa had
known the decision was coming.
"Just until you have this problem under control. We've
scouted out an efficiency for you about a block from here.
You can move in right away."
Melissa turned to her other roommate. "Wendy?"
Wendy Sendle nodded miserably. "We think you'd be better
off in an apartment by yourself."
"And you certainly would be better off without me." She
held up a hand as Wendy opened her mouth to protest and
said gently, "It's okay. I understand. I'm not blaming
you. I'll pack up and be out by tonight."
"You don't have to be in a hurry. Tomorrow would be—"
Wendy broke off as Karen gave her a pointed glance. "We'll
be glad to help you pack."
Melissa had known they wouldn't want to risk another night
with her. "Thank you." She tried to smile. "Now, stop
looking so guilty. We've been friends for years. This
isn't going to change anything."
"I hope not," Karen said. "You know we love you. We took
it as long as we could, Melissa."
"I know. You've been very tolerant." She should have moved
out weeks ago, but she'd felt safe here. "I'll just go
into the bathroom and pack my toiletries."
"Melissa, have you ever thought of going back to Juniper?"
Wendy moistened her lips. "Maybe your sister canhelp you."
"I'll think about it. Right now Jessica's pretty busy with
a new job."
"You're very close. If she knew, I think she'd put her
project on hold."
"It's hard to put off. Don't worry, I'll be fine." She
closed the bathroom door behind her and leaned against it,
her heart pounding. Calm down. So she'd be alone tonight.
Maybe it wouldn't happen. Maybe it would go away.
But it hadn't gone away in the last few weeks. It had
started hazy and far away, barely discernible in the
swirling darkness. But lately it kept coming closer. She
knew she'd be able to see it clearly soon.
Oh, God, don't let her see it.
Juniper, Virginia
"Cassie's had another nightmare," Teresa Delgado said as
she stood in the doorway of Jessica's bedroom. "A bad one."
"They're all bad." Jessica Riley rubbed her eyes before
she sat up and reached for her robe. "You didn't leave her
alone?"
"There are other people around here who know their jobs
besides you. Rachel's with her." She made a face. "But
Cassie might as well be alone. She's curled up in a ball
with her face to the wall. I tried to comfort her, but, as
usual, Cassie's acting as if she can't hear me. As deaf as
a fence post."
"She's not deaf." Jessica passed her and started down the
hall. "She's aware of everything around her. She's just
rejecting it all. The only time she's vulnerable and lets
anything in is when she's sleeping."
"Then maybe you should treat her when she's sleeping. Try
hypnotism or something," Teresa said. "You're sure not
doing very well when she's awake."
"Give me a break. I've had her for only a month. We're
just beginning to know each other," Jessica said. But
Teresa was right, there had been no obvious progress. The
child had been caught in a prison of silence since the
incident at Vasaro eight months before. Surely there
should have been some breakthrough by now, she thought,
then tried to dismiss her doubts. She was just tired.
Jesus, a child lost in a catatonic state for eight months
was nothing compared to other children she'd treated. But
acceptance was difficult when her patient was a seven-year-
old child who should be running and playing and living
life to the fullest. "And it's better if she makes the
first steps back herself. I don't want to force her."
"You're the doctor," Teresa said. "But if a lowly nurse
can offer some advice, I'd—"
"Lowly?" Jessica smiled. "Where did that come from? You've
been telling me what I should do since my first year of
residency."
"You needed it. I'd been around for over thirty years by
then and I had to set you straight. You were one of those
hotshot doctors who never knew when to stop. You still
don't. You could let us deal with the kid for one night
and get eight hours' sleep."
"She's got to know I'm here for her." She shrugged. "And I
wouldn't have been able to sleep much longer anyway. Her
father's coming to see her. He said he'd be here by three
a.m."
Teresa gave a low whistle. "The great man is paying us a
visit?"
"No, Cassie's father is coming to see his daughter." Many
people considered Jonathan Andreas one of the most popular
presidents the United States had ever had, but Jessica
didn't think of him in those terms. From the first time
she had met him a month ago, she saw him only as a father
who was terribly worried about his child. "And you should
know that. You've seen him with her. He's just a man with
a giant problem."
"So you put your life on hold and let him use your family
home for a treatment center for his daughter. The damn
place is an armed camp. You can't even take a walk without
being shadowed by some Secret Service man."
"It was my idea. The President wanted her hidden from the
media, and this place has a certain amount of privacy and
is easy to secure. Cassie has to be protected. Look what
happened at Vasaro."
"What if the same thing happens here?"
"It won't. The President assured me that the security is
infallible."
"And you trust him?"
"Sure." Andreas inspired trust. "And besides, he loves his
daughter. He's racked by guilt over Vasaro. He'd never
risk another tragedy."
"You're very generous. I've noticed he's been pretty cool
to you."
"That's okay. I've an idea he's sick and tired of dealing
with psychiatrists. Besides, a family usually feels some
resentment when they have to turn over their child to a
stranger. We'll work it out." She nodded at Larry Fike,
the Secret Service agent stationed outside Cassie's
door. "Hi, Larry. Did they tell you the President is
paying us a visit?"
He nodded. "Poor guy, not a good night."
"No." Though there were few good nights for Cassie
Andreas. "But he has to come when he can get away without
suspicion. We don't want reporters descending on us."
"Yep, then we'd all be having nightmares." He opened the
door for her. "The little girl was screaming pretty badly.
If it hadn't happened before, I'd have burst in there with
gun drawn. I'll give you notice when the President reaches
the gates."
"Thanks, Larry."
"Do you need me?" Teresa asked.
She shook her head. "Go make some coffee for the
President. He may need it." She nodded to the nurse
sitting in the easy chair. "Thank you, Rachel. Anything I
should know?"
"What you see is what you get." The young woman rose to
her feet. "She hasn't moved a hair since Teresa left the
room." She smiled at Cassie. "See you later, baby."
Jessica sat down and leaned back in the chair. She didn't
speak for a moment, letting Cassie become accustomed to
her presence. The child's color was good, but her face was
pinched. Making sure she ate enough was already difficult;
if she deteriorated even more, she would have to be fed
intravenously. What a sad contrast this Cassie was to the
pictures Jessica had seen of her before Vasaro. She'd been
the darling of the White House with her long, shiny brown
hair and luminous smile. Full of vitality and mischief.
America's poster child . . .
When are you going to learn? she told herself. Don't get
all choked up. Her esteemed colleagues never passed up a
chance to tell her that a doctor's emotion never healed a
patient.
Screw them. If you didn't let it blind and hog-tie you,
love could do a hell of a lot.
"Pretty scary dream? Would you like to tell me about it?"
No answer. She hadn't expected one, but she always gave
Cassie the opportunity. Someday a miracle could happen and
Cassie might be tempted to come out of the darkness and
answer one of her questions. "Was it about Vasaro?"
No answer.
It was probably about Vasaro. Terror, death, and betrayal
were the stuff of nightmares. But what element was the
primary catalyst that had driven her away? The nurse she
had loved and trusted and who had been prepared to hand
her over to killers? The murder of the Secret Service
guard and the nurse? It could be a combination of
causes. "Your daddy is coming to visit you soon. Would you
like me to brush your hair?"
No answer.
"It doesn't matter. You look very pretty anyway. If you
don't mind, I'll sit here until your daddy comes and we'll
talk a little." She smiled. "Well, I'll talk. You seem to
have given it up for a while. That's okay. You'll catch up
when you decide to come back. My sister, Mellie, is a real
chatterbox these days, and she was as closed as a clam for
six years. I hope you won't see fit to stay away that
long. Mellie's much happier now." Were Cassie's locked
muscles relaxing a little? "This is Mellie's room you're
in right now. She loves yellow and I had to talk her out
of lemon and ease her into wheat-colored wallpaper. The
brighter the better for Mellie. But it's a cheerful room,
isn't it?"
No answer, but Jessica hoped that wherever she was, Cassie
was listening. "Mellie's at Harvard now, studying to be a
doctor like me. I miss her very much." She paused. "Like
your mom and dad miss you. Mellie calls me every week and
we talk and that helps. I bet your daddy would really like
you to talk to him tonight."
No answer.
"But he'll love to be with you whether you talk to him or
not. He loves you. Do you remember how he used to play
with you? Yes, I know you do. You remember everything, the
bad and the good. And the bad doesn't hurt you where you
are, does it? But it does hurt you when you go to sleep.
If you'd come back to us, the dreams will stop, Cassie. It
will take a little time, but they'll go away."
She could sense that Cassie was beginning to tense again.
"No one's going to make you come back until you want to do
it. Someday you'll be ready and I'll be here to help you."
She added softly, "I know the way, Cassie. Mellie and I
traveled the same road. I wonder where you are. When
Mellie came back, she said it was like being in a deep,
dark forest with a canopy of trees overhead. But some
other children who have gone away say they went to a nice
cozy cave. Is that where you are?"
No response.
"Oh, well, you'll tell me when you come back. I'm a little
tired, do you mind if I just rest a little until your
daddy gets here?" Dear God, she was weary of questions.
Answer me just once, sweetheart. She closed her eyes. "If
you want to sleep, go ahead. I'm here. I'll wake you if
the bad dreams come."
Paris
Gleaming emerald eyes, teeth bared to tear into him!
Edward bolted upright in bed, his heart pounding. He was
drenched with sweat.
Only a dream.
How ridiculous to become so upset that he was actually
dreaming about the statue. It had to be the humiliation he
had experienced at Vasaro.
Not his fault. The plan had been perfect. If it hadn't
been for Michael Travis, he would have had the child. How
had the son of a bitch known about the raid? There had to
have been a leak. He would find it and then he would find
Michael Travis and blow the bastard's brains out.
Wide awake now, he decided to go to the room. Just the
thought of it was bringing him peace.
He got up and made his way downstairs. The intricately
carved door gleamed richly in the soft light. And once
inside the room he would be able to relegate the small
failure at Vasaro to the back of his mind, where it
belonged. There was no question that he would persevere
and get what he wanted soon.
Including the death of Michael Travis.
Georgetown
"Where the hell is Michael Travis?" Andreas demanded when
Ben Danley got into the limousine. "It's been eight
months. How long does it take the CIA to find one man?"
"We're close." Danley sank down in the seat across from
Andreas. "We've trailed him to Amsterdam. You don't
understand, Mr. President. He's been mixing with the
criminal underground since he was born. His father was a
thief and a smuggler and he was brought up all over Europe
and Asia. He has contacts that—"
"So you've told me." And Andreas didn't want to hear it
again. He wanted Travis and no excuses.
"I'm only trying to explain that he moves in circles that
leave few tracks. We expect to locate him within two
days." He paused. "You haven't told us what to do when we
do find him, sir."
Andreas turned to look at him.
"Do you wish him to have . . . an accident, Mr. President?"
Andreas smiled sardonically. "Why, Danley, you know the
CIA no longer does sanctions. You've cleaned up your
image."
"I didn't say we'd do it," Danley said. "I merely asked if
that was your wish."
"Very cagey."
"It's a natural question. If Travis is the man behind
Vasaro, I can see why—"
"Travis wasn't behind it. I don't want him hurt," Andreas
interrupted. "And you don't know jack about what happened
at Vasaro."
"Your pardon, sir, but naturally Keller at the Secret
Service shared his files with us since the attempt on your
life was made outside the U.S."
"It wasn't Travis."
"Then why have we spent eight months searching for him?"
"Because I told you to." He looked out the window at the
darkness. "And I wanted you to have a damn good reason to
find him. What did Keller tell you?"
"That there was an attempt on your life and the nurse and
six men had been killed and three wounded. Fortunately,
you and the First Lady had gone to Paris."
"Fortunately?" His tone was biting. "Do you realize that
my daughter hasn't spoken a word since that night? And
that my wife was on the verge of a nervous breakdown after
six months of trying to cope with a child who looked at
her as if she were a stranger?"