Dead Voices (7 page)

Graydon’s office contradicted her initial impression of the man. Everything was neat and precisely placed. The desk was absolutely uncluttered, and set kitty-corner opposite the entrance. The bookcase covered one entire wall, floor to ceiling except for two windows, and was overflowing with books. A box of Kleenex and a tidy pile of magazines were on the coffee table at the other end of the room. Ringing the table was a plush-looking couch and two easy chairs, and on the wall behind the couch were several framed diplomas.

The single room should have felt more spacious and comfortable, but Elizabeth had an impression of being hemmed in. Even the blue sky and ocean, visible through the windows, didn’t alleviate the sensation she had of confinement.

Although not quite as obvious as Elizabeth was about inspecting his office, Graydon was taking a few moments to study her, too. Following his momentary fluster at the door, he had assumed a firmly commanding presence, and now waited quietly while his visitor acclimated herself to the surroundings.

“Please feel free to have a seat in any chair. or you may lie down on the couch if you’re ‘traditionally’ inclined,” he said, sniffing with laughter at his own pun.

“I think I prefer to stretch my legs for a minute,” Elizabeth said. “It was more of a drive out here than I had expected.”

“It’s a bit of a trick to find the house, too. I hope you didn’t have any trouble,” Graydon said pleasantly.

“Oh, no. Not at all,” Elizabeth replied. although in truth she had missed the turn the first time. Walking over to one of the bookcase-framed windows and looking out into Graydon’s backyard, she was genuinely impressed.

The garage was built fairly close to the rocky shoreline, and the view out over the water was stunning. Elizabeth could almost feel the powerful push and tug of the tide as it sent tangled sprays of green water and white foam flying into the air.

“Would you care for coffee or tea?” Graydon said. “I have herbal tea if you like.”

“I’m all set for now, thanks,” Elizabeth said, still absorbed in the view. Watching the waves crash against the rocks, she felt, for a moment, a dizzying sense of impending danger, as if she were down there on the rocks, about to be swept away.

After everything she had been through, she just wanted to feel soothed and calm as she stared out at the beauty of the ocean: She hardly even gave Dr. Roland Graydon a second thought as she focused her attention on the swirling, swelling tide.

She found herself fantasizing that she would find a little cottage to rent on the shore somewhere, a place where she could just be alone with her thoughts. Maybe she didn’t need to see a therapist after all, she thought; maybe all she needed was time and space to let her torn and frayed emotions heal.

“So then, Elizabeth,” Graydon said, rubbing his hands together when she at last turned around to face him. “And please, if you’re comfortable with it, I’d prefer that you called me Roland. Tell me a little bit about yourself.”

Elizabeth took a long, deep breath and walked over to one of the easy chairs. Standing behind it, she let her fingers brush against the smooth material as she traced the outline of the flower print. Then, taking another deep breath, she said, “Well — where should I start?”

She glanced upward at the ceiling for a moment before continuing.

“I’ve been in therapy for almost a year now, ever since my daughter —” Her throat caught with a loud click, and she felt a warm rush in her eyes. (Damn it! Don’t start crying
already
! She commanded herself.)

Graydon immediately picked up on her discomfort. “Why don’t you start by telling me something about yourself,” he said. “Where you were born, went to school — something of your background. I know you’ve been living in — you said Meredith, New Hampshire?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“And you mentioned working with Dr. Gavreau for the last year or so,” Graydon said. He clasped his hands and rubbed them together vigorously. “But today let’s not get into anything about why you
think
you need therapy. I just want you to relax. Let’s take some time for you to get comfortable with me and my surroundings. Just tell me about yourself.”

Elizabeth ran her fingers through her hair as she came around to the front of the easy chair and sat down, heaving a heavy sigh. Taking his cue, Graydon sat down in the chair opposite her. Unlike Gavreau, he didn’t instantly produce a notebook and pen for taking notes.

For the next half hour or so, Elizabeth gave Graydon a brief sketch of her life — how she had grown up in Bristol Mills, had majored in English at the University of Maine, where, during her junior year, she had met and married Doug, and how, after a few lean years following graduation, they had started doing all right once Doug found a good job teaching history at Lakes Region High School in New Hampshire. In all that time, though, she didn’t once mention Caroline, simply because every time she even tried to broach the subject, her eyes would start stinging and her throat would close off.

Once Elizabeth had finished talking about her recent separation — and imminent divorce — from Doug, Graydon asked again if she would like something to drink. She accepted this time, and he went over to the counter, took two cups out of the cupboard, and poured them each a cup of coffee. When he returned to his chair, they were silent for several seconds.

“From everything you tell me,” Graydon said, “it sounds as though your life was fairly together. I mean, in terms of people who need help, I have clients — I prefer the word
client
over
patient
, by the way. After all, if we’re human, which one of us isn’t ‘sick,’ in some way? But as I was saying, I have clients who are much worse off than you appear to be. Is your problem simply that-well, things are changing, perhaps too fast for you right now, and you’re having trouble handling those changes?”

Elizabeth laughed, but a thin laugh without a trace of humor. “I think I can handle changes as well as anyone can,” she said. “I mean, even driving out here today, I saw so many changes around Portland. God, the Maine Mall has sprawled out to take over the whole countryside. I remember when it was just a cow field out there. Even in little old Bristol Mills, there are one, sometimes two houses wedged in between every house that was there when I was growing up. And the stores and traffic. Forget it!”

“But that has nothing to do with the way you feel,” Graydon said pointedly. “I was talking about how you are handling these recent changes in your life.”

“It’s been ... painful,” Elizabeth said, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay.

“So if this separation from your husband isn’t simply one or both of you ‘growing out’ of the relationship, what do you think caused it?” Graydon asked.

Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered as her gaze went past the doctor and out the window. She couldn’t see the ocean, just a square of bright blue sky; but she found it almost comforting, just knowing the ocean was out there. She imagined herself a tiny white dot of a sea gull, spiraling — free! — high above the raging surf.

“Well, you see,” she said, her voice low and raspy, “my husband and I . . lost our daughter.”

Like a jolt of electricity ripping through her body, the memory of that night came rushing into her mind. She barely maintained control of her voice as she began to relate what had happened that night.

“It was late, well after nine o’clock, when Doug and I and Caroline started for home. We’d been visiting my parents during February school vacation and had planned on staying the whole week, but on Thursday afternoon, Doug started in, complaining that he needed some books that were back home for some lesson plans he was working on and that he wanted to leave for home — the sooner the better. I strongly suspected this was a ploy of his to get away from my parents’ house, because I’d always known my parents — especially my father — didn’t really like Doug.”

“You say you
knew
,” Graydon interrupted. “Had the two of you spoken about it?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No — I just knew. There was always tension whenever we visited my folks. It kinda put me in a bind because I knew Doug didn’t like to visit, but I wanted my parents to see as much of Caroline as they could, you know?”

Graydon nodded.

“Anyway. against my and Caroline’s protests, after supper we packed our suitcases into the Subaru, intending to head back. But as evening fell, the blizzard the weathermen had been predicting all day finally hit. Within an hour, the roads were slick with a fresh coating of wet snow.

“I kept asking Doug if he didn’t think we should at least wait till morning, till the roads were clear, but he insisted we start out then so he could have all day the next day to work on his lesson plan. Caroline, who
always
loved to visit Grammy and Grampy, tried to add her weight to the decision, but Doug held firm.

“We started out — I guess sometime just before ten o’clock. Caroline should have been asleep in bed by then, so she snuggled up in the backseat while Doug drove. I was sulking in the passenger’s seat. I wanted to let him know how angry I was, but I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to disturb Caroline. I guess I was afraid of what I might say once I got started.

“As usual, we headed up Route 22 toward Route 202, but a mile or so out of town, on Old County Road, Doug lost control of the car on a sharp corner in South Buxton. Maybe you know where I mean. There’s a little church right there on the left.” Graydon shook his head and by his silence encouraged her to continue.

“Well, I always figured Doug’s foot slipped off the brake and hit the gas, because I remember the engine started whining real loud. The car did a complete three hundred sixty turnaround as it slid off the road as smoothly as if the road had been greased. If it hadn’t been for the head-high plow ridge, we would have gone careening down into a deep tree-lined gully.

“I remember I kept repeating ‘Good move ...
real
good move!’ as I leaned into the back seat to comfort Caroline. She had woken up crying because she was confused by the sudden lurching motion of the car. I remember thinking at the time that it was a good thing she’d been wearing her seat belt. Once the car was buried in the snow bank, I asked Doug one last time if he would consider heading back to my folks — at least until the storm was over — but he remained adamant.

“Swearing and swatting his hands at the storm, Doug pulled on his gloves and got out of the car to inspect the situation. The front of the car was jammed deep into the plow ridge. The light from the headlights was diffused from underneath the snow, and when I got out of the car to join him, I clearly remember hearing the sizzle of snow, melting as it landed on the car hood, hot from the running engine. And then ... then —”

Elizabeth fell silent as the full force of the terror of that night came roaring back at her like a train out of the darkness ...

4.

“
Goddammit!” Doug shouted, slamming his gloved hand against the fender hard enough to dent the metal. “Look at where the fucking car is!” He sucked in a short breath and then hammered his fist against the car again. “No sweat, though. I think if you can steer, 1 can push us out of here. “

“
Don’t be ridiculous!” Elizabeth said, “I think it’d be a bit smarter to wait for a cop or a tow truck or something.”

“
How soon do you think that will be on this stretch of road?” Doug yelled. Elizabeth knew he was really angry at himself and his own half-assed driving, so she didn’t shout back, After glancing at Caroline in the backseat and reassuring her that mommy and daddy were all right, and no, they weren’t really arguing, she went around to the driver’s door, got in, and sat behind the steering wheel. She knew there was no convincing Doug.

“
Now don’t go stepping hard on the Goddamned gas,” Doug shouted, frowning deeply as he leaned down and braced himself to start pushing.

“
You mean don’t do what you just did, huh?” Elizabeth said under her breath.

The car rocked back and forth as Doug shoved against it. With the driver’s door still open and her left foot out on the snowy ground, Elizabeth eased down on the gas, silently praying that the rear tires would catch and pull the car back onto the road, snow covered as it was; then — maybe — Doug would calm down enough so that she could convince him to head hack to Bristol Mills.

What happened next happened so fast that it was nothing more than a fuzzy, black blur illuminated by stinging spikes of light.

There was a sudden blast of flashing light in the rearview mirror. Turning, a scream already issuing from her mouth, Elizabeth saw bright yellow headlights, like the angry eyes of a demon, bearing down on her from behind. She yelled something — she didn’t know what — and turned just in time to see Doug leap away from the car. Something slammed into the rear of the car like a pile driver. Elizabeth was thrown forward and hit her head hard on the edge of the steering wheel. More lights. Brighter lights, exploded inside her head upon impact. and she was just barely conscious as the plow of the town highway truck scooped up the Subaru and carried it up and over the plow ridge as easily as if it were a Tonka toy.

She heard shrill screaming, but she was never sure if it was her own or Caroline’s. All she knew was that — suddenly — she was flying through the wind-whipped snow. and tht:n her flight abruptly ended with a chill when she landed face-first in the snow.

She knew she was screaming when she scrambled to her feet and watched, horrified, as the snow plow carried the family car down the hill and into the gully. The steep slope of the land was brilliantly illuminated by the truck’s headlights and bright orange flashers. The taillights blinked intermittently bright red as the driver pumped the brakes. It might have been the shrill whistle of the storm wind or the snow plow’s brakes, but Elizabeth was positive she heard Caroline crying out as the car and snow plow roared down toward the frozen stream. Caroline’s last words echoed endlessly in the raging blizzard-

“
Mommy! ... Help! ... Mommy! ... “