Out of the Shadow (25 page)

"Drew..." she muttered, "I knew it was you. It was you who did all those awful things to me. How could you have been so mean? I hate you, you asshole. You’re a horrible perverted person!" She balled her fist by her side, and shouted out the last words. Her face had taken on a deep scarlet hue.

"Why?" she asked. "Why? Why? Why? I was so young. Why did you do that to me? You stole my innocence and I’ll never, ever, ever get it back."

Since Becca had taken the initiative, I sat back and allowed her the space she needed to vent all her myriad emotions; one minute yelling out her rage at Drew in a fitful burst of fury, the next wailing in pain and shame. One instant threatening to shoot him in the groin. The next begging for his understanding. She ping-ponged back and forth like this repeatedly before finally quieting to a whimper.

By the time Becca had calmed enough to sit up, tears had dried in flesh-colored streaks that etched their way down her rouged cheeks. "I’m not surprised by what I saw. The nutty part is that he came back for more. I’ll never understand what sort of craziness compelled him to seek me out again after all those years, but I don’t think he’ll stop now.''

The thought sickened me. "Let’s hope you’re wrong, but if you’re not, what do you plan to do to protect yourself?"

"I’m going to lay low at your friend’s apartment until I feel safe. You’ll be the first to know when I’m ready to move on."

"No problem. I've cleared it with her. She said you can stay as long as you like.''

''Thanks, I appreciate that.''

''But there's one other thing you might want to consider, a restraining order to keep him away from you. The police or your lawyer can help you with that." I waited for her to blow her nose. "Please be careful. You know what you’re up against. And, whatever happens, wherever you go, whatever you do, please stay in contact with me. I want to know you’re safe and sound."

She hugged me one last time. Then she left. I only met with her once more when she came by to return the key. That was the last time I saw her.

“Fini. I’m sure you’ll all be happy to hear Becca only returned once to her apartment with movers. The following summer she married Evan, and they moved away from Philadelphia for good, leaving only a forwarding address with family and a couple of carefully chosen close confidantes. With Evan, a new name and a career in alternative medicine, she started her life over in another state.

Every once in a while Becca writes to catch me up on her life. She and Evan have been in couples counseling in their new city and have worked diligently together to overcome Becca’s sexual anxiety and develop a warm and loving relationship. Recently, she wrote to tell me she’s pregnant with their first child and her dream of becoming a parent is finally going to come true. Even though thrilled about the pregnancy, Becca has matured enough over the past couple of years to realize a baby won’t be the solution to all her problems; that as a parent, she will be asked to give more than she receives. This has been one of the great lessons for her.

The other lesson is that the past imprints an indelible blueprint on our central nervous system, which shapes our perception of the world and defines how we act and react within it. While we can never erase or alter our memories, we can overwrite them through conscious choice and experience. Armed with awareness and a willingness to change, we become master over our beliefs and behaviors instead of slave to them. Becca is a beautiful example of how that lesson can be put to work. She has grown into the self-possessed, competent and dignified woman she always dreamed of being.

I hope my lecture has adequately demonstrated the benefit of psychotherapy and hypnotherapy in the successful treatment of Repressed Memory Syndrome and you will be able to apply my ideas in working with your own RMS patients. Thank you for joining me this weekend. You were a wonderful and attentive audience.''

A round of applause filled the room and I watched as participants stood, stretched and meandered toward the exit doors. After answering questions from a couple of hanger-ons, I scanned the room for Adrian, anticipating my encore performance with him. The thought of our rendezvous caused my throat to tighten. While facing a full house of professionals was intimidating enough, it paled in comparison to facing Adrian alone.

A couple more people approached the podium with questions and comments, but even after they had departed, I failed to spot Adrian. Deeply discouraged, I wondered if he was the one who had cold feet. I considered gathering up my paper and leaving before he could catch up with me, but I had made a commitment to myself as well as to him. And, petrified or not, I planned to keep my end of the bargain.

Ten minutes later, Adrian was still nowhere to be seen, and I was about to give up on him. With disappointment overshadowing any relief, I packed away notes in my briefcase and prepared to take my leave of the hotel. Perhaps my date with Adrian wasn’t meant to be. He had come on so strong, it might be for the best.

I rifled through my purse for my car key when a baritone voice boomed behind me. "Sorry, I’m late, Sarah. I had to change out of that monkey suit. Now I’m ready to rock. Are you ready to roll?"

Against my better judgment my spirits surged. With a nervous laugh, I glanced up into the deep blues of Adrian Farley. He wore a boyish grin on his clean-shaven face and his eyes sparkled mischievously. He had changed from a pale blue shirt to a red polo and from his suit jacket to an
Izod
windbreaker and he still looked spectacular. My breath hitched.

"I thought you ducked out on me."

"Never," he said and his eyes darkened to a navy blue. "I’m been looking forward to this all weekend."

I felt as giddy as an adolescent at a school dance. "Where to from here?"

"I thought we’d take my wheels and head into center city to that restaurant I mentioned earlier. After we eat, I can drive you back here to pick up your car. How’s that for a plan?"

"Sounds like music to my stomach. I’m famished."

"Let’s go then." From the conference room ,we took the elevator to the parking garage and he helped me into his yellow Mercedes convertible.

"Nice," I said once he was seated. "Your practice must be flourishing."

"That and the book I’ve written on the Borderline Personality Disorder. It's sold well."

"I’d love to read it."

He started the car with a roar and peeled out of the lot and onto City Avenue. "I don’t have any copies with me, but I’ll bring a signed one the next time we get together."

I liked the sound of ‘next time.’ It warmed me all over to think there might be a future with this man.

Instead of taking the Schuylkill Expressway into town, he chose the East River Drive, saying it was more scenic. We drove past hovering oaks and thickly needled pines. Sculling teams navigated the river practicing for their competition. Cars whizzed by. I leaned my head back against the seat enjoying the scenery and the company as we made small talk. About a mile or two down the road, Adrian mentioned a picturesque overview of Center City and made a sharp turn onto a side road. While we traveled up a steep hill, I reached into my purse to touch up my lipstick when a whiff of the same cologne I inhaled earlier, so subtle yet so spicy, piqued my interest. "What’s that wonderful scent?"

Adrian turned to stare at me. His eyes had changed from bright blue to steely gray. All at once, my lust mutated into fear. I clutched the purse closer. I knew what he was going to say before he said it.

"
Aramis
."

Instantly struck scared and mute, I had to keep my wits about me if I hoped to get out of this in one piece. With his attention back on the road, I surreptitiously palmed the container of pepper spray I’ve kept in my purse ever since my mugging.

Gone was the suave, exciting hero of my dreams. Replaced by a reprehensible sociopathic chameleon. He may have played his role to perfection, but I was the one who overlooked clues to his true nature because I wanted to believe in him. 

At the top of the hill, he pulled the car to a halt, reached across me and opened my door. "Get out."

By the time I stumbled from the car, he stood at my side, grasping my arm and jerking me toward the edge of the hill. I squirmed, attempting to loosen his grip, but the more I struggled, the tighter he clutched my arm. He dragged me to the rim, overlooking the road below. "Nice view, no?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

I glanced down at the steep drop and went rigid. It didn't look too lovely from my vantage point. "Drew," I croaked. "Don’t do this."

He watched me through hooded eyes. "There’s only one way you can stop me. Tell me where Rebecca, or should I say Rachel, lives or you’re taking the direct route down."

"What if I don’t know?"

His sharp laugh sounded ominous. Petrifying. "Don’t lie to me, Sarah. You said she’s been in contact with you. You know where she’s at. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you don’t cooperate with me."

"Like you did Angela?"

"Angela should have left me alone. I wouldn’t have harmed her either, but she wouldn’t let go. I was afraid she’d expose me to Rachel; get in the way of my plans."

"How about Rachel’s husband?"

His sinister stare hardened as did my heart. "Rachel didn’t need a husband. She has me. She’s been mine since we were kids. I’ll never let her go."

"I see. Even if you have to kill me to get to her. And how about the
Aramis
you gave to her uncle at the party? What purpose did that serve?"

"It kept her off my trail for awhile, didn’t it? It gave me time to get to know her."

"And that explains why you encouraged her suspiciousness toward Evan, I mean Ethan. You had it all figured out, didn’t you? And you still do, even though you're not a doctor, a lawyer, or a chief of Psychology. Are you?”

“
No, I'm not.”

Curiosity emboldened her. “So how do you finance your activities?”

“Let's just say I've had a couple of benefactors.”

“
And are any of these benefactors still breathing?”

He wore a stony expression. “What do you think?”

My throat constricted, but I had to stall for time and managed to mutter, “How did you find me anyway?"

His face became a grotesque mask. "Rachel's card file made that easy. And you were kind enough to list the weekend seminar on your website, paving the way for me to meet you. All I had to do was sign up and show up."

He pinched my arm. The face looming above mine flushed fire-engine red with rage. He scared the hell out of me. "Ouch. You’re hurting me." He eased a little, just enough to allow me to think, but not enough to allow me to escape. "Tell me something. What would stop you from killing me even if I give you her information? If I were alive, I could warn her before you had a chance to find her. As far as I can see, I’m doomed either way. I might as well die without bringing anyone else along.''

"You don’t understand. If you say anything to anyone, including Rachel, or the police, I’ll hunt you down like an animal and finish you off in the slowest, most painful way possible."

I shivered at the thought, as though I'd suddenly spiked a fever. This man had no conscience. He was more than capable of doing what he said. I had to think fast. "Okay, I’ll tell you what you want to know if you promise to spare me."

"You have my word."

"How do I know your word is good?"

He jerked his head toward the hill's rim. "What choice do you have?"

I looked over the precipice at the stunning drop-off. No one could survive the fall. "She’s in Baltimore, but I don’t know her address. I have it in an office file." I hoped this maneuver would help me stall for time.

"Is she using Ethan’s last name?"

"I don't know."

"It would make sense." He scrutinized me. "Are you telling me the truth about Baltimore?"

"Do you think I’d lie when my life depended on it?"

A sneer crossed his lips. "I guess I can check it out, but it doesn’t matter one way or the other for you." His fingers gouged my arm and he shoved me closer to the edge.

"What are you doing? You said you’d spare me if I told you Rachel’s whereabouts. I have her address at my office. Why do this now?"

He laughed heartily. "And you believed me? I thought you were a highly educated professional. For a doctor you’re none too swift."

A further push. The descent loomed long and steep before me. I could picture myself falling, the sensation of weightlessness, the ground telescoping up to meet me. I could feel the wind rushing at me. The velocity increasing, nothing to arrest my fall...until impact. The image knocked the breath out of me. I could barely squeak out, "Don’t do this. People must have seen us together at the conference. They can identify you."

"No one saw us leave together. I made sure of that."

I had to stall him off, or I was a dead woman. "Please," I pleaded. "I’ll do whatever I can to help you find Rachel."

"You’ve done enough. I know how to find your office. I can take it from here."

My chest clenched; I couldn't catch my breath. Only one step stood between me and eternity. One more shove and I would somersault over the edge. I raised my hand to my face as though to protect it and pressed on the cylinder’s lever, releasing a steady stream of pepper spray into his eyes.