Out of the Shadow (16 page)

"It’s no use...his face is a blur...I can’t see him through the tears..."

The little girl must have been crying as hard as the woman before me. "Why don’t you ask little Becca who she thinks it might be."

After a long moment of silence, she said, "P...Paulie. She thinks it might be her Uncle Paulie. That's why she doesn’t like to be near him."

"See if you can attach Paulie’s face to the man in the bedroom. Let me know how that feels."

"I don’t know. I guess it feels about right...but I’m not sure. I wish I knew..." She wrapped her arms tightly around herself. "He seems to have a head of curly blond hair and Paulie’s grew straight and brown. Wait...I remember my mother had a wig with curly blond hair. I used to try it on when playing dress up...I wonder if he's wearing it. And he has on thick dark glasses. Maybe he’s in disguise and that’s why I can’t tell who he is. Do you think that's possible?"

It was beginning to make sense. "More than possible from what you’re saying. It’s likely, if he didn’t want to be recognized and caught."

"Wow," she said. "To think I’ve been trying to put a face on him and all along he was in disguise. That sure complicates my attempts to identify him."

"It does, but it doesn’t mean it’s impossible. Don’t give up just yet."

"How can I? I opened the can. I can’t put the lid back on now." Becca opened haunted eyes,
  a stricken look on her pale face. "Oh God..."

"Yes." I allowed her a couple minutes to recover. "How do you feel?"

"Frustrated. Frightened." She fiddled with her fingers. "I wish I could be sure it was Paulie who abused me."

"Trust the process. You will know in due time. In the meantime, do you think it’s possible Paulie might have had something to do with your rape?"

"I don’t know, but it sure seems coincidental he returned to town around the same time."

"What do you plan to do with all of your suspicions?"

"I’m going to report them to the police. I only hope Detective Mills takes me seriously for once, and follows up on my lead." She folded her arms around herself in a gesture of consolation. "I forgot to mention Mills called me a couple of days ago to tell me my hair sample didn’t match the one on the rag."

"I’m surprised you didn’t mention that earlier, but it’s definitely good news. Does it mean you’re no longer a suspect?"

She threw up her hands. "I wish! It certainly puts a crimp in their case against me, but since they don’t have another possible culprit, I’m still numero uno, as far as I can tell. Maybe this will take them in a new direction."

"Let’s hope." I rose, as did Becca, and I embraced her in a comforting hug. "You’re doing good work here. Whatever happens, I know you’ll come out of this a much wiser woman. All your effort will pay off. You’ll see."

I sent a silent thank you off to the Universe for giving me the strength and openness to allow Becca to take this as far as she could. If I hadn't worked on my own childhood issues, I would never had been able to allow her the license to explore the hidden recesses of her past as freely as she was doing.

One thing therapy teaches you: you can’t take anyone anywhere they’re not willing to go. As a matter of fact, you can’t take them anywhere you haven’t gone yourself. A therapist is limited by the constrains of their client’s willingness to do the work, coupled with their own emotional barriers. It’s essential for every therapist to be aware of their own underlying conflict and motivation, before attempting to treat someone with Repressed Memory Syndrome.

Becca stepped back. "Wisdom wasn’t exactly my aim in life, but if it’s all I get out of this, I guess I shouldn’t complain. No matter what the police believe, I’m going to discover the truth if it’s the last thing I do."

I cringed. "Please be careful." With a vicious psychopathic killer on the loose, I prayed her quest didn’t turn out to be exactly that.

Becca had barely entered the foyer of the Goldstein home when chimes announced Paulie’s arrival. Julie let him in and ushered him over to where Becca busily removed her coat and scarf. He gave her an enthusiastic greeting, and Becca reluctantly returned his hug with a stiff one of her own.

"I didn’t know you’d be here," he whispered into her hair, sending a shudder down her spine.

She pulled away, shaken. "Mom surprised me with an invitation to dinner. She said it might be the only chance I’d have to visit with you for a while because you might be going back to California to clear up a few of your affairs."

Paulie turned to Julie with a bemused look on his face. "You make it sound as though I’ll be away for months, but it should only take a week or two. Why didn’t you tell me Becca was coming tonight? I bought her a little something I thought she’d enjoy. I think it’s still in the trunk of the car. I’ll go and fetch it."

"You already gave her enough" Julie said. But Paulie took off before she could stop him, and returned a few minutes later carrying a small gift bag. He handed it to Becca. "Open it."

Julie wrenched the bag from her hands. "This could have waited until after we ate. Let’s go and have a cocktail in the family room. You can open it in there."

Irritated at the intrusion, Becca gritted her teeth against an urge to say something nasty and followed them into the family room, joining Irv in front of the fireplace. Julie poured them glasses of Chardonnay Paulie had brought with him from California.

"A toast to our finally getting together as a family." Julie raised her glass. They all lifted theirs. After everyone took a sip, Julie said, "Let’s see what Paulie bought you, Becca."

Becca opened the bag with trembling fingers and extracted a bottle of
Raffinée
. Her knees nearly buckled. "Wow, my favorite. How did you know what perfume I wear?"

Paulie laughed. "Besides a great sense of smell, your mother gave away your secret."

Julie looked up in the middle of another sip of her wine. "I don’t remember telling you anything of the sort. Maybe Irv did."

"You wouldn’t remember my middle name if I didn’t remind you. I asked you what Becca wanted for her birthday months ago. Sorry I’m late with this."

"You might have," Julie said, sipping her wine. "I just can’t remember."

Becca stared at the bottle in her shaky hand and immediately placed it back in the bag. Did Julie tell him, or did he hear it from someone else? And who else would know about her preference, except Angela? "I’m glad we’re finally together. I have so many questions for you."

Maria entered with a tray of crackers and crab claws, which she placed on the bar. Paulie took one bar stool and Becca another. "I’ve been wondering about something that happened to me years ago, and thought you might be able to set me straight."

"Setting people straight isn’t my specialty, but go ahead," Paulie joked.

"I sort of remember you babysitting me when I was little."

Julie poured her another glass. "Once in a great while. My baby brother was old enough to have an active social life by the time you came along. I know my memory’s not great, but as I recall, he wasn’t available too often to babysit—much to my chagrin." She sent Paulie a mock look of exasperation.

"But you did on occasion, right?"

"Rarely after you turned five."

That didn’t jibe with Becca’s recollection, but even a couple times would have given him a chance to molest her. "If Paulie didn’t babysit me, who did?"

Julie thought. "There was a nice young man named Adam who lived around the corner from us. He babysat for me most of the time. Then there was a teenager a few houses down. I believe her name was Melissa. She helped out on occasion."

Dizzy, Becca decided to lighten up on the wine. "You’re saying Paulie rarely watched me when you and dad went out?"

"Why do you ask?"

All eyes were on her. No use trying to fool them. Time to bring her suspicions out in the open. "I have reason to believe whoever babysat me, also..." she took a deep breath, "...also molested me..." The words rushed out in one sustained breath before she could fully consider the ramifications.

A plate shattered to the floor in a violent crash. Everyone looked startled, especially Paulie. Julie leapt to her feet and took off for the kitchen, returning with a broom. She swept up the shards as they all watched without a word.

Paulie stared at her through the saddest eyes she had ever seen. "I can’t believe you’d think I could do that," he stammered. "I don’t know what to say."

Neither did she. She had opened a door that would never close again. Becca looked down at the Berber carpet, refusing to meet his eyes.

Julie placed the broom aside, came around the bar, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "You’ve been under tremendous pressure since David’s murder. You’re understandably upset and not thinking clearly." She turned toward Paulie. "Please don’t be angry. I’m sure this is nothing and we can clear up any misunderstanding. Why don’t you boys grab a bite in the dining room while we girls go upstairs to talk for a few minutes."

"But—" Before Becca could say anything more, Julie placed a hand under her elbow and navigated her toward her old bedroom.

Once inside the room, Julie turned to her with a beet-red face and eyes that flashed with anger. "Where the hell did that accusation come from! Are you going out of your way to make things miserable for everyone else? I know you've been in pain lately, but that's no reason to take it out on the rest of us!”

No use holding back any longer. Time to tell all. "I'm sorry this has made you uncomfortable, Mom, but I’ve been in therapy the last couple of months, and it’s surfaced I was molested as a child. I’m hoping to be able to find out who did it and to connect the dots between my recent rape and my earlier one."

"How can you be sure of that? At least sure enough to make such an accusation. You're really out of order here."

She wasn’t sure of anything anymore. “I'm having flashbacks and memories of the abuse.”

"You know children have faulty memories," Julie said, staring off in the distance, uncharacteristically quiet for a minute. "Assuming what you say is true, what makes you think these two incidents are connected? They’re years apart. Couldn’t they have been committed by two separate people?"

"They could be, but my nightmares tell me otherwise. From what I can gather, the same person committed both acts. The police think I lied to them about the rape and I’m somehow involved in the murder. I can’t possibly exonerate myself and protect myself against a madman who's still on the loose, unless I can figure out who did it. And why."

Julie watched her closely as you would an unpredictable child. "Even if it's true, why Paulie? He had nothing to do with it."

Rage flared up in her with unexpected urgency. "How do you know? And why would you want to protect him instead of me? You’re the one who left me unsupervised, with a sociopath who raped me! What type of judgment does that show?"

Julie stared at her, eyes wide, mouth gaping open. For the first time ever she didn’t have a quick retort. "But...I never meant..."

"Screw what you meant to do! What does it matter in the face of what happened to me? It was your job as a mother to shelter me! A fine job you did."

Tears filled Julie’s eyes. "I only meant the best for you. I would never have done anything to intentionally harm you."

"Intentional or not, you left me in the hands of a rapist. And you’re going to have to live with that for the rest of your life. The least you can do is help me out here." She plopped down on the bed. "I realize Paulie’s your baby brother, and you don’t want to believe he could do such a heinous thing, but how do you know what he’s capable of? I’m your daughter, for crying out loud. Aren’t I the one you should be protecting? Not him!"

"Of course, but I can’t possibly think he’d do such a thing to his own niece."

"If Paulie didn’t, then who did?" The taste of tears filled the back of her throat. Would she ever figure this out?

"I wish I could help you, but I don’t believe it was Paulie. He wasn’t even around much."

"Then I have to find out who. What can you tell me about the Adam kid? What was he like?"

A furrow formed on Julie’s brow. "Let's see... I believe he was about sixteen or so when he babysat you. A lanky but cute kid with brown hair which used to fall over his black-rimmed glasses. I remember him being polite to me and your dad. I can’t imagine he would have done anything untoward to you."

"Well, somebody did, and they might have come back for more."

"Are you sure you were molested? We were so close. Wouldn’t you have said something to me?" Julie mused.

"Obviously not."

Julie looked demoralized. "I wish you had come to me. Maybe I could have intervened."

"That would have been nice, but you knew I was having major psychological problems. You even took me to a psychiatrist who hospitalized me. Didn’t it ever dawn on you there might be something going on that disturbed me that much?"

"I didn’t know...didn’t make the connection." Julie took a seat next to her on the bed. "Explain one thing to me. How can you depend on your dreams to make a connection between the past and the present?"