Chapter 13

"Didn't expect to see you here."

Mark glanced up from the chart he was studying and smiled thinly. "Hi, Jess. Didn't expect to be here, to tell the truth. But I got called in about Doris Claybourne and then - "

Jesse grinned understandingly. "Four patients later you're still here?"

"Five." Mark scrawled something on the chart, then read it again. "However, this is the last one. After I finish here, I am going home."

"Great." Jesse poured himself a cup of coffee, tasted it and made a face. "Why don't I go with you? I promised Steve I'd stop by."

"Yeah, he told me." Mark made another note. "That's nice of you."

"I don't mind. Kind of wanted to see him for myself anyway. How's he doin'?"

Mark's smile deepened. "Just like you'd expect. Restless. Bored. Fretting."

"Well, the restless and the bored I expected - what's he fretting about?"

Mark closed the chart. "Oh, this Fuller case. Sure seems to be intent on it."

"Oh." Jesse became very interested in his coffee. "Well. You know how it is - gotta have a good case before you go to trial. I mean, no point in going to trial unless you have a good…" he trailed off uncomfortably.

Mark glanced up at him in mild surprise. "I know that, Jesse. Did you hear that Brian Fuller has disappeared?"

Jesse stopped trying to memorize the contents of his coffee cup. "No. Really?"

"What's this about Brian Fuller?" Mark turned his attention to the door as Amanda breezed in and went directly to the coffeepot. "I didn't expect to see you here, Mark. How's Steve?"

"Steve is doing fine and Brian Fuller is missing."

"Really." Amanda paused in pouring her coffee. "Since when?"

"They're not exactly sure, but almost forty-eight hours at the least. Steve's taking it kind of personally."

Jesse scrunched up his forehead. "What's he think he could do about it?"

"Oh, you know how he is. Thinks anything that happens on his turf is his responsibility."

Jesse nodded, sipping the coffee again and then reaching for the sugar. "They have any leads on him?"

"I don't know. Cheryl was stopping by to go over things - maybe they'll have a break by the time we get there."

"Wow." Jesse blinked distastefully at his coffee. "Wonder what that means. Maybe Steve's right after all and it wasn't Madge Fuller who did it."

Mark stopped mid-sip, his eyebrows twitching together. "What's that?"

"I said maybe - uh…" Jesse's face grew blank, his mouth frozen at half-mast and thoughts visibly racing behind his eyes as he tried to think of a way to turn the conversation in midstream.

"He said that's an interesting development," Amanda contributed helpfully.

Jesse shot her a grateful glance.

Mark's mouth curled at the corners as he shifted his eyes with amused affection from one to the other. "That's funny - because it sounded just like he said that Steve didn't think that Madge Fuller did it."

"Oh, well - " Jesse pinned on a hopeful smile. "It might have sounded like that, but - um - what I meant - "

"Jesse," Mark's fixed him with a pointed blue gaze. Jesse cleared his throat and winced. Amanda tossed him an exasperated stare. "Steve doesn't think that Madge Fuller is the killer? Why didn't he say anything to me?"

"He didn't say anything to you?" Jesse adjusted his face into an expression of peerless innocence. Mark just looked at him, and Jesse's expression dissolved. He dropped his eyes quickly back to his coffee.

Amanda pulled up a chair between them. "I think he was just a little embarrassed to mention it, Mark," she offered soothingly. "He can't really remember why he feels that way and there's no evidence and he's suffering from a head wound that makes his credibility a little shaky - I think he just wanted to have a few more facts before he said anything."

Mark nodded genially. "And yet he evidently said something to both of you." This time Amanda looked uncomfortable. Mark leaned his forearms on the table. "I don't understand. Obviously, I'm not supposed to know about this, but why? It's not like Steve and I have never disagreed on a suspect. Why the conspiracy of secrecy?" Jesse and Amanda looked at each other, looked away. "Now come on," Mark coaxed, "I know Steve's been troubled about something - if this is it, I'd like to know about it. What exactly has been going on?"

Amanda's face melted. "Mark, it's really nothing - he just has it stuck in his head that it wasn't Madge Fuller and he doesn't really even know why he feels that way himself. He didn't want you to think that he was questioning your conclusions without good reason."

"But why?" Mark was honestly bewildered. "He's never hesitated to question them before."

"Well," Amanda glared meaningfully at Jesse, "I think maybe he got the idea somewhere that he was questioning your conclusions because subconsciously he was tired of you working on his cases."

Jesse's head shot up indignantly. "I told you, I meant to put it a lot better than that!" Mark's face changed, and he looked intently from one to the other. "Mark," Jesse pleaded. "I didn't mean it like that. I just got to thinking what it might be like if my Dad was around all the time - you know - questioning my diagnoses and recommending treatment on my patients, and I thought - I mean, Steve - I just…" he trailed off helplessly, running his hands nervously through his hair.

"I see." Mark leaned slowly back in his chair.

"Don't look like that," Jesse groaned. "Your situation with Steve is entirely different. Not the same thing at all. I just meant - "

"Don't be silly, Jesse. You have nothing to apologize for." Mark forced a troubled smile. "On the contrary, I think I owe you a thank you."

Amanda reached out and touched his arm. "Mark - I'm sure Steve doesn't really feel that way - "

"It's all right Amanda," he patted the hand on his arm pensively. "Jesse makes a very good point. One that I sometimes forget to think about. I think I need to have a talk with my son." He glanced down at the chart he'd finished. "I'm done with this chart if you want to go now, Jesse. What about you, Amanda? Want to come along?"

Amanda shook her head. "I have two more hours on shift, and two boys returning with a lot of laundry. I'd better pass."

"All right - Jesse?"

Jesse hesitated. "Look, Mark…you're not mad?"

"Of course not." Mark gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. "You were only trying to look out for a friend. I think that's a pretty nice quality to have. And if you'll go now, I promise to make you a lot better coffee than that when we get to the beach house."

Jesse grimaced at the sludge in his cup and obligingly tossed it in the sink. "I'm right behind you. Say, Mark…" Mark stopped by the door and lifted his eyebrows questioningly. "Even if Steve decides he doesn't want you working on his cases any more - " Jesse gave him a brilliant, self-deprecating smile. "Um - he'll still probably let me work on them, don't you think?"

Mark burst out laughing. "Go," he ordered with mock severity. "Now."

*

"No car," Jesse pointed out as they pulled into the driveway. "Cheryl must have come and gone."

Mark glanced at his watch. "Well, I have been gone a little longer than I intended. I suppose she had to get back to work." He led the way to the front door, calling up the stairs as soon as it was open, "Steve? I have Jesse with me - " He mounted the stairs and dropped his keys on the table near the top, looking around. "Probably napping," he murmured to Jesse, lowering his voice. "He'll never admit it, but he falls asleep at the drop of a hat. I'll check the guest room."

"Well, that's good anyway. Sometimes our bodies manage to outsmart us. I'll start the coffee." Jesse cut over to the kitchen and pulled out the coffee canister. He was just measuring it when Mark walked in a few minutes later, his face vaguely troubled. Jesse raised his eyebrows at the change of expression. "He okay?"

"He's not there." Mark's eyes drifted out to the deck, scoping from one end to the other. "I can't imagine where he'd be. Unless…" he frowned. "He did say he was hoping to move back downstairs tonight."

"I'll check." Jesse abandoned the coffee and bounded down the stairs two at a time. He returned a short time later, moving much more slowly. Mark had the coffee started. "No sign of him," he said reluctantly in answer to Mark's questioning look. "I'm pretty sure from the look of things that he hasn't been down there since he came home."

Mark sighed. "Well, I didn't think so - he told me he was going to try and persuade me to let him move back down there tonight, but I thought maybe he needed something down there and…" he trailed off, his frown deepening. "You don't suppose he went somewhere with Cheryl, do you?" He pushed a cup of coffee toward Jesse.

Jesse took a grateful sip. "I don't know," he admitted slowly.

"He was determined to follow your directions when I left, though - I really think he meant it."

"Yeah, well, he can be pretty hard headed sometimes - talk himself into thinking he's doing just that. That's why I made such a detailed list."

Despite himself, Mark smiled slightly. "Yeah - I saw." There came the sound of the front door opening and Mark immediately abandoned his coffee and strode toward the entry. "Steve?" he called as he walked. He saw Cheryl's surprised face in the doorway and didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed that she was alone.

"I'm sorry - " she apologized as she mounted the stairs. "I've been letting myself in to save Steve getting up. Where is he? I have some news for him."

"We were just wondering that ourselves."

Jesse had followed Mark and was standing by the table, reading something he'd found tossed there. "Say, you know what? I forgot I told him he could try a gentle beach walk in a couple of days. I bet he went out to get some air."

The tension melted from Mark's face. "Of course. It's been killing him to be stuck inside with only the deck for escape. Of course, I just may kill him myself for not leaving a note…"

"Probably thought he'd be back before you got here." Jesse cackled as he re-read his list. "Hey, I forgot some of these. They're pretty good."

"Mm. Very amusing." Mark's good humor was fully restored. "Cheryl, can I offer you some coffee? My prodigal son should be back soon."

"I'd love some." Cheryl trailed him into the kitchen. "I have some big news for him."

Mark pulled out a cup and filled it from the decanter. "Well, why don't you tell us while we wait? Serve him right for not leaving a note."

Cheryl added a judicious amount of cream to the mug Mark handed her and stirred. "Well, I'm dying to tell somebody…I got a call today letting me know that they'd been able to trace David Fuller's mysterious missing funds. Went out to talk to the lady they'd been given to. Maybe you've even heard of her. Julia Locksley?"

Mark sipped his coffee thoughtfully, then shook his head. "Sounds familiar - but I can't quite place it."

"Dr. Julia Locksley?" Jesse piped up.

Cheryl nodded. "That's right."

"You remember her, Mark - " Jesse nudged him. "She's made some really amazing strides in behavioral medicine. I read her latest paper - brilliant."

"Of course!" Mark's face cleared. "Dr. Locksley. She runs a clinic a little way up the coast, doesn't she? I remember now - she's made some very impressive advances." He paused suddenly. "You don't mean she was having an affair with David Fuller?"

Cheryl smiled. "No. That's not what the money was about. It was for her services."

Mark's eyebrows jumped. "David Fuller was seeking Dr. Locksley's services?"

"Not for himself," Cheryl explained quickly. "For his son. Seems he'd been displaying some odd behaviors over the last year or so and the family doctor had him sent to a specialist. The specialist thought he was demonstrating early signs of schizophrenia."

Mark gave a low whistle. "Well, that's about the age it starts to show up in boys, all right. But I don't understand - why keep the money a secret? That's certainly a legitimate use of funds. If anyone I knew was showing signs of schizophrenia, I'd want them to see Dr. Locksley too."

"Well, that's where it gets more complicated. Evidently, Mrs. Fuller strongly objected to the diagnosis and was sure it was just growing pains - something he'd get over. She was terrified that a label of mental illness would be a stigma he'd never overcome - that it would terminate a promising potential sports scholarship and make him a pariah at school. She wanted to give it time and see how it developed. Mr. Fuller wanted to seek immediate and aggressive treatment."

Mark looked pensive. "Well, as much as I sympathize with Mrs. Fuller, I have to agree with Mr. Fuller. The sooner Brian could be on the proper medication, the better. Schizophrenia is a very tricky illness. Immediate, consistent treatment is essential to the patient's even trying to cope with normal society. So Mr. Fuller set it up behind Mrs. Fuller's back?"

Cheryl nodded. "Dr. Locksley said they fought about it every time he was in town - put a lot of strain on their marriage. At one point, he gave Mrs. Fuller a big check and told her to take care of it while he was away - when he came back, she said she had, that everything was under control, but he eventually figured out that she was lying to him. Never did find out what she did with the money - just stashed it, probably. But he decided for his son's sake that he'd better take things into his own hands and worked it out with Dr. Locksley in person to disguise the transfer of funds. I don't know how he planned to pull it off, but evidently he was determined to get his son to Cliffside, Dr. Locksley's clinic, and into care as soon as possible."

"But he never got the chance." Mark grew sober. "A mother protecting her young can be a formidable force to deal with. And trying to accept that a child may be facing chronic, persistent pain and suffering is more than a lot of parents can bear - I've seen it again and again. Can take a long time to accept. Some never do. I applaud Mr. Fuller's courage." He bent to sip his coffee, noticed Jesse pacing back and forth in front of the windows facing the deck, peering this way and that through them. "Jesse, what on earth are you doing?"

Jesse turned around, his face a study in startled surprise. "Huh? Oh - I figured - figured Steve couldn't have gone too far. Thought maybe I'd see him walking back. Was gonna run out and meet him halfway. Walk with him."

Mark swallowed a smile and nodded knowingly. "And tell him that you spilled the beans to me about Madge Fuller?"

Jesse gave a weak laugh. "If - you know - if it came up in conversation…"

Mark got up and gazed out the windows over his shoulder. "See him?"

"Um - no." Jesse squirmed a little. "I thought maybe I'd just go - you know - take a look."

Mark looked both directions, up and down the beach, his frown suddenly returning. "You can see an awfully long way from here, can't you?" he remarked thoughtfully.

Jesse looked even more uncomfortable. "Yeah…possible he overshot and needed to rest before he came back." But Mark wasn't listening - he was staring straight ahead as though looking at something else. Suddenly he exclaimed under his breath and turned to walk out of the kitchen. "What?" Jesse ran to catch up and Cheryl slid off of her stool to follow. "Mark, what?"

"The guest room…" Mark lead the way into the guest room, went directly to the chair holding the duffel bag. "It didn't really register when I was in here earlier, but…his jacket was on this chair before."

"So?" Jesse didn't like where this was leading. "He probably took it on his walk. That ocean breeze is pretty strong."

Mark upended the duffel over the bed. A pile of clothing fell out and he rooted through it. "Well, here's his gun." His face was suddenly grim. "But no wallet, no badge, no telephone."

Jesse shifted. "He could have taken them with him on his walk too," he suggested unconvincingly.

"Maybe." Mark's frown deepened. "He must have left word somewhere. Cheryl, you didn't hear from him at all?"

Cheryl raised her brows. "Nothing on my cell. I haven't checked with the station, though. I came to see Steve right away."

Mark tried to smile. "Would you mind - ?"

Cheryl shrugged and picked up the bedside phone. She dialed in a few codes and then listened. Mark watched her face intently, his stomach doing a slow slide to his shoes as he saw her smile evaporate. She hung up the phone slowly and turned around. "Well, he did leave me a message."

Mark breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, good - at least we know where he is!"

"Yeah - he's at the South Beach strip mall - asked me to meet him there as soon as I could." Even as she was talking, Cheryl was making her way back to the front door, checking her gun and badge and picking up her purse.

Mark kept pace with her. "South Beach strip mall - what on earth is he doing there?"

Cheryl had her keys out. "Evidently I got a call after I left - Brian Fuller showed up for work at the South Beach strip mall. Steve went to keep an eye on him until I could get there."

Jesse stopped in surprise. "Just showed up for work?"

"Looks like." Cheryl glanced at her watch. "I'm going there now. I'll check back with you guys later."

Mark was already retrieving his own car keys. "Cheryl, you must know we're going with you. Or without you, if you prefer, but we're going."

Cheryl sighed. "Yeah, but it was worth a try. Just do me a favor and try and remember who's there in an official capacity?"

"I promise to do my best. Once I find out what that son of mine is up to. Besides, you may need us. If Brian Fuller is an untreated schizophrenic, his behavior could very unpredictable - it will help to have medical personnel along. Jesse, you riding with me?"

Jesse grabbed his jacket by the door. "You bet."

Cheryl slid Mark a sideways glance as he locked the front door behind them. "When you say "unpredictable" - what exactly does that mean? Dangerous?"

Mark pursed his lips thoughtfully. "No, no - not usually. To themselves, more often than not. High suicide rate. Now, an unmedicated patient who suffers from chronic paranoia or psychotic episodes can sometimes be a danger, to friends and family, mostly, but it's not really - " He stopped abruptly, as if hearing his own words play back to him and not liking them. He winced. "Let's - just get going, shall we?"

Cheryl nodded, striding ahead. "I'm going to call and see if there's anybody in the mall area who can get there ahead of me. If I have to hit the siren don't try to keep pace, just get there when you can!"