Too Near the Edge (27 page)

I considered going out, just to be around
other people, but I was worn out from my trip the day before, plus
all the emotional energy I had expended worrying about Sharon and
confronting Erik. Finally I took a bath and went to bed early. I
slept fitfully dreaming about someone chasing me down a long dark
trail.

On Friday, I was still stewing about Erik
when Sharon arrived for her session at 1:30. But I didn’t want to
distract her by talking about anything other than Adam, so I didn’t
mention Erik or the camping trip.

It was sunny and a bit breezy as we took our
soothing stroll along Boulder Creek to help Sharon clear her mind
and focus on Adam. I tuned in to the sounds of the rushing water,
trying to clear my own mind, hoping to get some fresh insights. I
found myself thinking about Adam’s computer, which I wanted to get
into without Erik’s help. But I had no idea how to do that.

We got back to my office about 2:30. After I
got Sharon settled in the apparition chamber, I sat down at my desk
to finish my letter to the Colorado Mental Health Department of
Regulatory Agencies in response to the complaint Waycroft had filed
against me. Ten of the twenty days they had given me to reply had
already gone by and I’d promised Bruce I’d respond in a timely way,
so I wanted to get my letter into the mail.

I thought about the criticisms of
spiritualists like John Edward and Rosemary Altea, who supposedly
use their psychic abilities to bring messages to the living from
the spirit realm. Investigators say these psychic mediums only
pretend to get information from spirits, but in fact cleverly
collect material from their subjects and offer it up as a mystical
revelation. I was sure Waycroft saw me as just one more charlatan
who pretended to be in contact with someone’s dead loved one, but
was actually feeding back information obtained from the living.

I am quite prepared for people to doubt me
and the contact process. Which is why I’m so selective about who I
take into the project, why I don’t promote it or publicize it, and
why I don’t participate in events like Narmada’s psychic fair. In
fact, I mainly offer the contact opportunity to people whose grief
is complicated or severe, and who I think will benefit from
handling their grief in a more direct way. Sometimes they can make
peace with the dead person, tie up loose ends or get answers to
questions—all of which promotes healing.

I was so completely immersed in making these
points in my letter, that I didn’t notice how much time had gone by
until the chamber door opened. It was nearly 4:00. Sharon stood in
the hall, tears streaming down her face, but smiling at the same
time—like a rainbow in a summer afternoon storm.

“Adam,” she sobbed. “I saw him. We talked. It
was amazing.”

I led her slowly to the sofa in the
counseling room, handed her a box of tissues, put a tall glass of
water on the table next to her, and sat down in the armchair.
Sharon sat wide-eyed staring off into space for several minutes,
then turned to face me. “He was just like he always was,” she said
in astonishment. “It was like he’d never left.”

“I’m so happy for you, Sharon,” I said
softly.

“He walked out of the mirror and was right
there in the room with me. We talked. He said he’s sorry to have
left me and Nathan, and wishes it could be easier for us, but he’s
okay where he is. He put his arms around me and hugged me. It felt
so soft and loving. It was wonderful—I needed that so much!”

“What about your questions? Did he say
anything about how he died?”

“He said he was walking on the trail and
someone pushed him from behind. He didn’t see who it was.”

“Did he say who he thinks it might have
been?”

Sharon took a long drink of water and sighed.
“No. He wanted to talk about other times, times we had together,
times with Nathan. The question of who pushed him didn’t seem to
matter to him at all.”

“Did he tell you what he was so worried
about?”

“Not really. I asked him if it was Erik he
was worried about, and he said, ‘Get the money from Erik. You need
the money.’ I tried to get him to explain that but he didn’t. Then
he said not to trust my dad with Nathan. I told him I’d already
stopped the point-system thing Dad was doing. I have no idea how he
knew about that.”

“Did you ask him about his computer?”

“I did, but I forgot to ask until he began
fading away. Then, when I asked about it, he said, ‘Don’t trust
customers to pay on time.’ I told him that we need the password to
get into the computer, but he just kept saying, ‘Don’t trust
customers to pay on time.’ He seems mostly worried that Nathan and
I won’t have enough money. Maybe there are some invoices on his
computer from customers who owe him money.”

I decided to take the plunge. “Sharon, I’m
thinking we should find a way to get into that computer without
Erik’s help. After what Adam said about getting the money from
Erik, I’m wondering whether there might be something on the
computer about that. And, I have to tell you, Erik isn’t exactly
who he seems to be.”

I had been focusing intently on how to phrase
this because of my worry that any criticism of Erik would not sit
well with Sharon. When she didn’t respond at all, I was afraid I
had gone too far. But I noticed she had fallen asleep right there
on the couch. She looked so relaxed and peaceful, I decided not to
wake her. I hoped she was dreaming of Adam, maybe reliving their
reunion.

About fifteen minutes later, Sharon woke with
a start. “Wait! Now I’ve got it! That’s the password. Don’t trust
customers to pay on time—that’s the password. Give me a pen and a
piece of paper.”

I handed her the pen and paper. She grabbed
it and wrote “Dtc2Pot.” Then she jumped up and said, “Where’s my
watch? What time is it? I’m supposed to be home for Nathan to be
dropped off at 5:00.”

“It’s 4:30,” I said, handing Sharon her
watch. “Maybe you could go ahead, and I’ll put Adam’s computer in
my car and bring it over. We can try the password at your
house.”

“Great! Thanks, Cleo. I’ll see you in a few
minutes.” Sharon picked up her purse and dashed out.

I loaded up Adam’s computer, locked my
office, and took Broadway across town to Sharon’s house on Ash.
When I turned into her driveway, I noticed smoke coming from Adam’s
office in the back. I dashed around the house to see what was going
on. Sharon, Nathan and another boy who looked to be about his age
were standing on the stone patio between the house and the office.
As I ran over to them, I could see Nathan’s face was streaked with
soot and tears. Both he and his friend were filthy and dripping
wet. Sharon talked intently to them.

As I walked up, she paused, looking to the
boys for a response. “But Mom, I need to talk to Dad as much as you
do,” Nathan sobbed. “You wouldn’t let me go with you to Cleo’s, so
how was I supposed to reach him?”

Sharon turned to me. “Nathan and Brad snuck
over here this afternoon when Brad’s mom thought they were at
Martin Park near Brad’s house. They tried to hold a séance to reach
Adam—used a bunch of candles and managed to set Adam’s office on
fire. They got a hose to put out the fire, soaked themselves, the
office and everything in it.” Sharon sounded beyond
exasperated.

“How did you learn about séances anyway,
Nathan?” she went on.

“Brad and me watched a movie on TV about
ghosts, where this woman had people sit around a table and light
candles. They closed their eyes, and the ghosts came and talked to
them. I thought we could do it to talk to Dad.”

“I know how much you miss Dad, Nathan. We
need to talk more about that,” Sharon said, giving him a hug. “But
you and Brad could have gotten hurt doing this. Right now, I’m
going inside to call Brad’s mother. I want you two to stay right
here with Cleo until I get back.” She walked over to the door into
the kitchen and went inside.

“Cleo, my dad didn’t come,” Nathan said
sadly. “Why didn’t he? We had the séance in his office because
that’s where he mostly hung out. We turned out the lights and used
a lot of candles just like in the movie, but he never came. We even
tipped the table and banged on it like in the movie. That’s when
the fire started. Some candles fell off onto a bunch of papers.
Then we had to stop and put out the fire. Do you think Dad didn’t
want to talk to me?”

“No, Nathan, I don’t think it was because he
didn’t want to talk to you,” I said, as I scrambled to think of a
way to discuss this with a eight-year-old. “Um…the thing is,
Nathan, spirits or ghosts or whatever can’t just show up whenever
someone calls them—even if they want to. It’s really hard for them
to talk to us, I think. It’s like they’re really far away and
there’s no phone and no easy way for them to get here.”

Before Nathan could respond, Sharon came back
out. “I talked to your mom, Brad, and she agreed that you and
Nathan need to help clean up the mess you made. So let’s go work on
that. She’ll be here in about an hour to pick you up.”

Brad mumbled something as both boys followed
Sharon into the office. I tagged along behind. Inside, the office
was a smoky, soggy mess. Once they started the fire, the boys had
wanted to be sure they used enough water to put it out. So they had
doused everything thoroughly.

We began carrying things out from the office
to the patio. Lots of wet books, folders, stacks of papers, and a
couple of soaked area rugs. We had to bring out the furniture as
well, because water had pooled around it. The boys worked hard,
said little. Sharon got them brooms to sweep the water out the open
sliding glass doors. By the time Brad’s mother came to pick him up,
he looked grateful to be getting out of there, even though he was
probably worried about what his mother would have to say about this
escapade.

After they drove off, Sharon told Nathan to
go inside and take a shower. “I need to finish taking care of this
mess,” she told him. “So we’ll talk more about this later. After
your shower, stay in your room. I’ll bring you some supper in a
while.” Nathan nodded, put down his broom and went inside.

As soon as he was gone, Sharon darted over to
a pile of stuff at one side of the patio and came back carrying
what looked like a locked steel cash box, about 8 inches by 12
inches and maybe 4 inches deep. It looked like it could hold a
good-sized stack of money. “I found this hidden behind some books,”
she said. “I didn’t want the boys to see it, since I have no idea
what’s inside. I’m hoping one of Adam’s keys will open it. Let’s
take it inside and see.”

We took the box into the kitchen. Sharon
moved a stack of dirty dishes, jars of peanut butter and jam, a
loaf of bread and some banana peels off the table, and put the
metal box there. She fished around in a drawer, pulled out a key
ring, and began checking for keys that might fit the lock. Just as
she was about to try one that looked likely, Nathan appeared in the
doorway.

“I’m starving, Mom. You said you were
bringing me some food.” Then he noticed the box. “Hey, what’s
that?”

“Nathan, I asked you to stay in your room.
This is just a box I found in Dad’s office.”

“Is there money in it? Maybe Dad left us a
bunch of money. Let’s open it.”

“I am going to open it. You can watch if
you’re quiet.” Sharon stuck a key in the lock and turned it. The
box popped open. Inside was a thin manila envelope. If it held
money of any significant amount, it would have to be big bills. But
all she found inside were some papers.

Nathan’s face fell. “No money? He didn’t
leave any money in there for us? Hey, maybe it’s a map to lead us
to the money.”

“Enough about money, Nathan.” Sharon sounded
exasperated.

“It’s not a map, just some business papers.
Now go back to your room and I’ll bring you something to eat.”

Sharon got out some bread and cheese, fixed a
sandwich for Nathan, and took it to him with some watermelon and a
glass of milk. She offered me a snack, but both she and I were more
interested in getting a look at the papers in the envelope, than we
were in eating. Sharon spread out the papers on the table, and we
sat down to look through them. The papers were all printouts of
pages from a website called Creating An Ideal World. It started
with this mission statement:

This project is designed to demonstrate that
it is possible to create an ideal society by sacrificing individual
freedoms. People are not born the way they are, they learn to
behave in certain ways by their interactions with the total
environment in which they live. The philosophy of Creating An Ideal
World is radical behaviorism. Behaviorism offers the possibility
for change, for improving the human condition by rewarding desired
behavior and punishing behavior that is not desired. The principles
of behaviorism work equally well for everyone, regardless of race,
ethnicity, or socioeconomic status. This project will show that by
shaping children’s behavior from infancy, we can create an ideal
world.

“Wow! This is some strange stuff,” Sharon
said, reading on down the page. “I can’t imagine why Adam had this
in a locked box. It’s not the kind of thing he’d usually keep. It
sounds more like my dad’s kind of thing than Adam’s.”

“It sounds a little scary,” I said. “Shaping
children’s behavior from infancy? How do they get parents to agree
to that?”

“Oh look at this.” Sharon pointed to a page
in front of her. “This project is in Mexico! I wish I knew why Adam
had this stuff.”

“It looks like this was printed out last
March,” I said. “See, here’s the web address and the date on the
bottom of each page.”

“So I guess Adam printed it out from that
website. But why? And why lock it up?”