Fever Dream (20 page)
I went over to Treva’s bedside and smiled down at her.
“I wouldn’t mess with Ruth if I were you.” I pulled a chair from the near corner and sat.
Treva took her hand from under the bed covers and put it gently on mine.
“It’s nice to see you again, Dr. Rinaldi.”
“You can call me Dan.”
Polk came closer then, too, standing stiffly at the end of her bed.
“And you can call me Sergeant Polk, Ms. Williams.” He pulled a notebook from his back pocket. “I know we have to keep this short, but we do need a statement from you. About what happened in the bank.”
“I know.” Treva wet her lips. “I also know everyone’s been very patient with me.”
“Not at all,” I said. “After what you’ve been through, if you still want a little more time to rest…”
Polk angrily cleared his throat, a sound like a truck back-firing.
Treva gave him a wry look. “I’m happy to tell you what I can.”
“Good.” Casting a warning glance at me. “Now, how ’bout you start at the beginning, Ms. Williams. At the bank. When the first masked man entered…”
I just sat back and listened as Treva repeated the story she’d told me on the curb outside the bank. This time, there was no hesitation. No confusion. Though her voice quavered at certain points. Or grew so quiet you could barely hear it.
What was more surprising was Polk’s reaction. Rather than encouraging his witness to take her time, letting her story unspool in as much detail as possible, he kept interrupting her. He seemed impatient, irritated. More than once he tapped his pen briskly on his pad.
If Treva was upset by this, or even noticed it at all, she didn’t show it. Instead, what I saw on her face was a rising grief, the slow-welling sorrow of remembrance.
And I knew why. As she gave her statement, it was clear that she’d relinquished the comforting fantasy that what happened in the bank had been a dream. Enough time had gone by that her conscious mind had grasped and accepted the reality of what had occurred.
Which was why, as she finished her narrative, the emotional strain of the experience was plainly evident. Her face had paled. Eyes pinched, almost to a squint. Fingers twitching anxiously on the sheets.
“Then…well, the last thing I remember is the tall man looking out the window. Real upset.”
“Probably when he saw SWAT taking up positions outside the bank,” Polk said.
“I guess. All of a sudden he called out to the police that he was letting one hostage leave. Just one.” Treva paused. “Then he pointed his gun at me and said, ‘You’re it, girlie.’ And pushed me out the front door. Suddenly, all these policemen surrounded me, grabbing my arms. Pulling me away from the bank…”
Another, longer pause. “Then I sort of…went blank. And that’s all I can remember. Until…” She looked at me. “Until I was sitting on the curb with you.”
“You did fine, Treva,” I said.
“Yeah.” Polk pocketed his notebook. Glanced at his watch. “Real good. Thanks, Ms. Williams.”
Treva pushed herself up to a sitting position. “I guess you want to ask me about last night, too? When that man took me and Dr. Holloway down to fix his arm.”
“Hold on,” I said. “That’s enough for now. There’ll be plenty of time later to—”
“But I’m feeling better. Honest. And I want to be helpful…”
“You’ve been
very
helpful,” Polk said quickly. “But Doc Rinaldi is right. You oughtta rest up. Besides, we got Holloway’s statement about what happened. We can talk to you about it later. In case we need to fill in any gaps.”
I could tell Polk was getting more and more anxious to leave. Not that he was being exactly subtle about it.
“Ready to roll, Doc?”
As I started to rise from my chair, Treva clutched my arm through the bed rails.
“Would it be okay if you stayed a few minutes?” Eyes searching my face. “Just to talk?”
I turned to Polk. “You need me for anything else?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t need ya for
this
. But, sure…far as I’m concerned, you’re off the departmental clock.”
Then, with a quick nod at Treva, he strode out of the room. Footsteps clicking purposefully on the well-scuffed linoleum as he went down the hall.
Some instinct made me step to the door and look out. Polk had just pushed the elevator button, and was pacing impatiently back and forth in front of the closed doors. Stopping only to jab the elevator button again.
I turned back into the room. My first impression about Polk had been mistaken. He wasn’t deteriorating from booze, or poor health, or lack of sleep. Nor some deep distress.
He was gripped by urgency. Impatience.
Harry Polk was a man on a mission.
“Ellie’s told you about us, hasn’t she?”
Treva’s gaze at me was frank, unwavering. She was sitting up now, hands kneading on her lap. Yet she seemed calmer, more assured. Less fragile.
I was back in my chair at her bedside.
“How do you know what Eleanor’s told me?”
“It wasn’t hard to guess. She told me she was calling someone who could help. Someone she trusted. So I figured she’d end up telling you.”
“Is that okay? I mean, that I know about your prior relationship?”
She smiled. “Now you sound like this shrink I had once. Guy was totally full of shit.”
“Then I’ll try not to sound like him.”
Treva leaned back, gazed at me warily. As though, perhaps for the first time, sizing me up.
“I’m…well, I guess I’m not real good at trusting men. Not used to the idea, anyway.”
I said nothing. Waited.
She closed her eyes then, took a long breath. When she opened them again, her look was as clear and focused as I’d ever seen in her.
“I guess you’re surprised that I didn’t want Ellie to be here. That I didn’t want to see her.”
“I
was
surprised, yes. Why was that?”
“Because I feel too guilty. Because of what I did.”
“You mean, when you left her? All those years ago?”
She nodded. “She really loved me. And I left her for some guy who turned out to be a real bastard. Who cheated on me…beat me…”
“He beat you?”
“I thought he was exciting. Dangerous. You know, in that sexy, bad-boy way. I wanted someone different, someone who’d rock my world. Well, he sure did. Rocked the hell out of it. And I had the broken heart—
and
broken bones—to prove it.”
Her slender shoulders lifted. A weary shrug.
“Karmic payback, I guess. For what I did to Ellie. Do you believe in things like that, Dr. Rinaldi?”
“I’m afraid that question’s above my pay grade. And, please—call me Dan.”
She shook her head.
“No, it feels better calling you ‘doctor.’”
“Then, of course. Whatever’s most comfortable.”
Treva looked past me, toward the sunlight serrated by the window blinds.
“I’ve had a lot of stupid relationships since then. Done a lot of stupid things. Bounced around. Lost. And then…see, this job at the bank is the first good job I’ve ever had. I’m only a junior associate, but Mr. Franconi—he’s the manager—Mr. Franconi said I showed real promise. That I had a flair.” A rueful smile. “First time anybody’s ever told me something like
that
.”
I leaned forward, but kept silent. Watched conflicting emotions flicker across her face.
“Then there was this other thing that happened. A man. A good man, who loved me. And I loved him.”
I spoke carefully. “Bobby Marks.”
Her chin lowered, and she began to cry. Silent tears, that welled up at the corners of her eyes.
“I…Bobby and I had been seeing each other for months. We’d even begun talking about moving in together. Maybe marriage. But Bobby wanted to be cautious about things. He said Mr. Franconi frowned on office romances. That if they went wrong, it was bad for office morale.”
“It must have been difficult,” I said. “Keeping it a secret.”
“It was. Especially because I was so happy…I mean, I hadn’t felt like that since…Well, since Ellie and I were together.”
She gave me a sharp look. “And you don’t believe in karma? I finally find someone, and then this…
thing
…happens. Poor Bobby. He was so sweet. So…”
I let her sit with her pain, her sorrow, for a few minutes. Then I risked touching her shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, Treva.”
More than she knew, I could relate to what she was feeling. The unbearable grief. Trying to come to terms with the inexplicable randomness of violence. How—in a matter of moments—it can tear your life apart.
Her sobs grew more intense, wracked her whole body. At first, I was alarmed. Concerned that she might be convulsing. I was about to call out for the nurse. What the hell was her name—?
Then, just as quickly, Treva’s tremors subsided. But her breathing turned to shallow gasps.
She finally looked up, her eyes wide, ghostly white. They held not grief, but fear. A kind of terror.
“Please, Dr. Rinaldi…”
Suddenly, her hands—both hands—were gripping mine. Clutching as though clinging for life.
“Treva, what is it?”
“
Please
…” She was distraught. Terrified. “Please promise you’ll take care of me.”
“Of course, I…”
“No,
promise
me! You promised you’d ride in the ambulance with me, and you
didn’t.
”
Her fingers tightened their grip. Went white. I felt the strength of her panic.
“
Please
!” Her words thick with anguish.
“Treva, I…”
I hesitated only a moment. Unsure exactly what she was talking about. What was going on inside her.
Until, at a loss, I nodded. “I promise.”
“Stand still, will ya?” Noah said. “You’re breakin’ my concentration.”
We were standing together in the riverfront bar’s small kitchen, and Noah Frye was helping me with my tux. To be exact, he was fixing the knot on my tie.
“Hurry it up, Noah. Traffic’s gonna be murder.”
Ignoring me, Noah unhurriedly tugged on one end of the tie’s bow, then the other. Making them even.
“I don’t mean to go all OCD on your ass, man, but if a thing’s worth doin’, it’s worth doin’ right. Right?”
Which was Thelonius’ cue to meow his agreement. The cat was perched atop the refrigerator, peering down with detached curiosity. A Zen monk with fur.
“Dammit, Noah—”
“There!” He stepped back, hands outstretched as though a magician who’s pulled off a miracle. “Given what I had to work with, you’re not half-bad lookin’ in that tux.”
“Half-bad is good enough for me. It’s a rental. Now let me go, okay? I should’ve been at the Burgoyne Plaza a half hour ago.”
“So you’ll be fashionably late. As Miss Manners says, ‘Fuck ’em if they can’t take a joke.’”
Just then, Charlene came through the doors from the bar area. Gave me a broad, leering grin.
“Hey, Danny. You look good enough to put on top of a wedding cake.”
“Thanks. But I just came by to talk to Noah for a few minutes.”
Her mood changed quickly. “About that Andy kid, I hope. Noah’s been mopin’ around all day about it.”
“I don’t mope.” Noah folded his arms over his broad chest. “I reflect. I ponder.”
“Whatever.” Charlene came over to me, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and headed back out to the bar. Calling over her shoulder to Noah: “I’ll just be out here, reflecting and pondering about why I put up with you.”
After she’d gone, he turned to me: “Chick’s crazy about me. It’s kinda touching, eh? The way she keeps her true feelings bottled up.”
“She’s right about one thing, Noah.” I smoothed the sleeves of the tux jacket. Damn thing felt tight across the shoulders. Not that I cared. “You’re upset about Andy’s suicide. Perfectly understandable, of course, but…”
Noah waved me away. Turned and started stacking dirty dishes in the dishwasher.
“You
know
you need to talk about it,” I said. “If not with me, with Charlene. Or maybe Nancy Mendors.”
“No, I don’t need to talk about it.” Keeping his back to me. “I need to stop thinkin’ about it.”
“Why?”
“Because it don’t make any sense.”
He straightened, rubbing his hands on his jeans. But still not looking at me.
“I heard from some bros o’ mine over at Ten Oaks that Andy been actin’ worse and worse these last couple weeks. I mean, it looked for a time like his new meds were workin’. He wasn’t acting so fucked up. Talkin’ that android shit. Then all of a sudden, he starts up again. About not bein’ human and everything.”