Chapter 31
An hour later Morelli was sitting opposite me in a small, private family waiting room down the hall from Stephanie's room. He'd been shocked speechless when I told him what happened, but during the hour it took him to get to Princeton in the rush-hour traffic, he'd gotten his voice back with a vengeance.
"Jesus H. Fuckin' Christ," were the first words out of his mouth as he came stomping into the room. "Can't you just stay the hell out of our lives?"
"If I'd stayed out of your life," I told him, my voice icy, "right about now you'd be discovering Stephanie's cold, dead body in your bathtub. Tomorrow you'd be spending the day with her parents, making funeral arrangements."
He paled and collapsed into the nearest chair.
"Dear God, what the hell was she thinking?"
"Are you telling me you're surprised? That you had no idea that Stephanie was so depressed that she felt her life was no longer worth living?"
His mouth fell open, and after a moment he clamped it shut with an audible click.
When it became apparent he wasn't going to say anything I continued, "Stephanie has voluntarily committed herself to a 72-hour evaluation period. Dr. Cynthia Marino is the chief of psychiatry here, and she will be developing and implementing a treatment and rehabilitation program for Stephanie."
"What the fuck…?" he began, but I asserted my control of the situation by interrupting him.
"Whether you agree or not, it's going to happen. You've already proven your incompetence when it comes to Stephanie's health. I have a signed and notarized medical power of attorney for Stephanie, and I will make sure she receives the proper treatment."
"You can't do that," he burst out. "I'm her fiancé. I should be making her medical decisions."
"I wasn't aware that Stephanie agreed to marry you," I said, hiding my heartbreak with cold neutrality, "but it doesn't make any difference. My attorney has assured me that no one, not you, not Stephanie's parents, can override my powers when it comes to Stephanie's medical care. And I intend to exercise those powers."
A soft tap-tap on the door interrupted us, and an attractive brunette woman in her mid-forties wearing a white lab coat entered the room. I rose.
"Mr. Manoso?" she inquired, looking at me.
"Dr. Marino, it's a pleasure to meet you. Please call me Carlos. Barbara Foster said to tell you she owes you a New York cheesecake."
She had an infectious grin. "Cindy," she said as she shook my hand. "Barbara and I go way back, and any friend of hers is a friend of mine."
"This is Detective Joseph Morelli of the Trenton Police Department, a friend of Stephanie's. He'll be your major contact for her family."
"Detective," she said, turning to shake his hand.
"Doctor, I'd appreciate it if you'd explain exactly what's happening here," Morelli said.
"Of course. Let's sit down."
oOo
I was exhausted and dragging when I got back to my apartment. It was past 2200 and I hadn't had anything to eat all day. I felt weak and sick, wanting nothing more than to collapse into bed, but I knew I should eat something.
I stuck the covered plate Ella had left in my refrigerator into the microwave, grabbed a bottle of water and sat at the breakfast bar thinking about the events of the day.
The 72-hour evaluation period was only the beginning of Stephanie's treatment, according to Dr. Marino. She was certain Stephanie would have to remain at the clinic for weeks, perhaps even months, until her blood chemistry could be regulated with medication. She would not release Stephanie, she told us, until she was certain there was minimal potential for another suicide attempt.
During Stephanie's time in the clinic in addition to the medication she would undergo intensive talk therapy. She needed to process and accept the very traumatic events she'd undergone since being kidnapped. In addition, the professionals at the clinic would work with her on coping techniques for dealing with her difficult family and the other stresses of her life.
Morelli was surly and angry with me for giving the doctor such a complete background on Stephanie, but he knew he had no choice but to agree. I was certain he was still in denial himself about how bad her condition was, but the very near miss today had shaken him, and he told the doctor he just wanted what was best for Stephanie.
I didn't go in to see Stephanie again before leaving the hospital. She was awake and I knew she wouldn't want to see me. I'd have preferred she didn't know I was involved at all. She already hated me, and rescuing her from what she'd obviously decided was the only way out was just going to intensify that feeling.
I did, however, watch through the one-way glass as Morelli went in to see her. He had strict instructions from the doctor not to say or do anything to upset her further. He was to express love and support and then get the hell out of there, and she'd be allowed no more visitors until the doctors deemed her strong enough, at least two or three weeks.
I had to give Morelli credit. He kissed and hugged Stephanie and told her he loved her and wanted her to get better, and that was it. She was apathetic when he hugged her and as soon as he released her she turned her back on him, her focus concentrated on the exact spot I was standing behind the one-way glass. She stared and rubbed the back of her neck.
I knew she couldn't see me, but I wondered if she could feel me watching her. I had that hum running through my body that always alerted me to her presence. It was conspicuous in its absence when she was so addicted to heroin, but now it was back, even stronger than before. Was it possible that her brush with death and my foiling her effort to end her life had intensified our connection?
The beeping of the microwave interrupted my reverie and I uncovered my dinner, staring at it with distaste. Not that it didn't look delicious, because it did, but I had no appetite whatsoever.
Knowing I had to eat to keep up my strength, I forced down a few bites, but after a while I gave up and scraped the food into the garbage disposal. Just as I was putting the rinsed plate into the dishwasher my stomach revolted and I raced for the bathroom.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I vomited up far more than I'd eaten today. When I finally finished retching, I opened my eyes to a basin filled with bright red blood.
I was dizzy and weak, and I vomited blood once more before collapsing on the floor. Pressing my cheek to the cool ceramic tile I thought how easy it would be to just let go, allow the pain to end once and for all.
The thought was seductive, and I entertained it for a couple minutes. Stephanie would be so much better off without me in her life.
But no, I knew that was an illusion. Stephanie would have been better off if I'd never come into her life to begin with. But she'd already suffered unspeakable horrors as a result of her connection to me. I needed to stick around to assure that it never happened again.
I was weak, but I managed to get my phone out of my pocket and press speed dial for Tank.
oOo
Chapter 32
Six weeks later—Wednesday, September 3
I sat in my office trying to concentrate on financial reports for the first eight months of the year, but not having much success. Really I was waiting for Dr. Marino's weekly call. She'd reported last week that Stephanie's blood chemistry was regulating and her mood was improving. She'd been working through her feelings in daily sessions with Dr. Carole Hughes, the head of the clinical psychology department at Princeton University. There was a chance the doctors would release her this week.
I'd spent four days in the Princeton Clinic myself, two floors below Stephanie, after undergoing emergency surgery to repair a bleeding ulcer. It was ironic, I thought, that on the very day Stephanie had surgery to repair her artery I'd required surgery for arterial bleeding myself.
My last day at the clinic I went for a walk in the halls and ended up on the secured psychiatric floor, leaning against the one-way glass of Stephanie's room, watching her nap. Her nearness generated a low-level buzz in my chest and after a few minutes she awoke, sitting up and staring at the spot I was standing, her hand on the back of her neck. There was no way she could see me, but she felt me as certainly as I could feel her.
When a nurse found me and asked how I got up there, I kept it simple and told her I walked. She shook her head and had an orderly escort me back to my room.
Now I was on an old-man regimen of pills three times a day to heal the ulcers and prevent them from recurring.
My weight had bottomed out at about 140 pounds, sixty less than the normal I'd maintained for the past decade, and had started to creep back up just a little bit. The relief of knowing Stephanie was in a safe place, being well cared for, did wonders to ease my stress levels.
My frame of mind had been bolstered by half a dozen weekly sessions with Dr. Gary Sanders, the clinical psych professor at Penn recommended by Barbara Foster. Talking with him had helped me accept the fact that, although my dark past had shaped me, I still have ultimate control over who I am today and what I will be for the rest of my life.
While I would never stop blaming myself for what happened to Stephanie, I was learning to live with it and go on, determined to try to make amends somehow.
oOo
"We're releasing Stephanie on Friday," Dr. Marino reported. "And Carlos, I need to tell you that she's revoked your medical power of attorney. Detective Morelli had the papers drawn up and brought them in for her to sign as soon I agreed she was competent to make legal decisions. Technically I shouldn't even be talking to you now, but I thought as a matter of courtesy you had a right to know how well she's doing."
Fuck.
"Will she still be seeing you and Carole, even though she's going home?" I asked, hoping her courtesy extended to giving me an answer.
"Oh, yes. We've scheduled her for Tuesday and Friday sessions with Carole for now, to help her cope with getting back to real life, and I'll be seeing her once a month for blood chemistry review and prescriptions."
"Thank you, Cindy, for all you've done for Stephanie," I said, ending the call.
Fuck.
oOo
Friday I spent the day glued to the monitors, waiting for Stephanie to come home to Trenton. Her apartment lease had ended as of September first and Dillon called me a month ago to ask if I wanted to renew it for her.
After some considerable thought I called him back and told him no. It wasn't safe, and I didn't want Stephanie to go back there and be reminded of her kidnapping and all the pain she'd endured because of me. She was better off not being alone. I forced myself to put it into thought: She was better off living with Morelli.
They didn't arrive home until nearly 2100. I'd checked, and Morelli hadn't gone to pick her up until his work day was finished.
Selfish bastard, I thought, furious. I'd have been there as early as they let me.
But she's not yours, I reminded myself, and never will be. She's better off with him. Keep repeating it over and over and maybe you'll begin to believe it.
Morelli got out of the car first, carrying a pizza box, and hurried to open the front door to let the dog out. Stephanie exited the car under her own power, turning just in time to be almost knocked over by the dog, his front paws on her shoulders, joyful tongue lapping at her face.
"Down, Bob." The sound of her voice was heaven to my ears. "Good boy." She rubbed his ears and then turned and grabbed a bag of groceries and walked into the house.
I spent the rest of the evening listening, since the windows and doors were all open, but there was very little to hear. Polite dinner conversation, please pass me a napkin, do you want another piece of pizza, no thanks.
And at bedtime, "Not tonight, Joe. I don't think I'm ready yet. Please give me a few days."
Silence, then his voice, "Mmmm…"
More silence, then Stephanie: "Please, Joe."
He sounded a little miffed. "Okay, Cupcake, if that's what you want. Whenever you're ready I'll be waiting."
oOo
Monday morning Morelli left for work at 0700, calling good-bye to Stephanie. At 0830 her sister Valerie arrived and stayed until 1500.
On Tuesday morning it was Stephanie's mother picking her up at 0900 in the car and driving away. They returned at 1500, Stephanie thanking her mother for driving her and for the nice lunch. She must have gone for her appointment with Carole.
Wednesday morning a taxicab driven by Frank Plum dropped off Grandma Mazur, returning to pick up both her and Stephanie at 1700. Morelli brought her home at 1930 with a bag I recognized as leftovers from dinner at the Plums'.
Thursday Stephanie's best friend Mary Lou picked her up at 1000. They returned at 1430, carrying multiple shopping bags into the house, and Mary Lou left a short time later.
Friday it was Valerie's turn again, and they were gone all morning, most likely at Princeton for Stephanie's appointment.
Saturday and Sunday Morelli was at home with her, and Monday the babysitting resumed.
oOo
A month after Stephanie came home Tank reported that Connie had heard rumors of Morelli buying an engagement ring, and a week after that it was all over the Burg. He'd proposed on her birthday. They were engaged. A spring wedding was being planned.
I continued to keep an eye on the house almost every waking moment, even though the cameras were also displayed on the control room monitors. The windows were open and the bedtime fucking sounds resumed, but all of the groaning and verbalizations came from Morelli. Stephanie was uncharacteristically silent, no moans of pleasure, no crying out with orgasms, the complete opposite of the night I spent with her.
I was relieved when the weather got cold enough that the windows were closed.
Another month went by and one day in early November, after being picked up by her father in the taxicab, Stephanie drove back on her own in her old piece-of-shit red Nissan. It had remained parked at her apartment until the lease expired, and at that point it was towed to a garage where it had remained until now. The RangeMan GPS tracker was still on it and functioning.
That week she began driving herself to the Princeton Clinic on Tuesdays and Fridays, leaving around 0900 and returning home at 1200. One or two days a week someone either came and visited her or took her out. They were taking no chances with Stephanie, and I was very glad to see her family and friends being so supportive.
But there was no sign of her returning to work. She remained cocooned in the house on Slater Street, alone.
Thanksgiving week Stephanie only went to a single appointment on Tuesday.
After Thanksgiving it appeared that she stopped having bi-weekly appointments. The family babysitting ended and she was on her own. Several weeks passed in which she didn't leave the house at all except with Morelli for Sunday dinners at her parents' house.
oOo
Wednesday, December 17
No matter what else I was doing, the monitors were a constant in my life. I kept telling myself I had to end my obsession with watching the cameras at Morelli's house, but I hadn't yet been able to tear myself away for more than an hour at a time.
A week before Christmas a taxicab picked up Stephanie just before 1200. It didn't look like the cab her father had been driving, but I wondered if his was in for maintenance.
I watched all afternoon, waiting for her to return, but she hadn't yet arrived when Morelli came home from work at 1930, later than usual. He entered the house, letting the dog out the front door, and then I saw him open the back door and look out at Stephanie's car sitting there in the alley behind the house.
The door closed again and fifteen minutes later my cell phone rang. Morelli.
"What?" I was curt, not happy to hear from him.
"Manoso, do you know where Stephanie is? She's gone."
TBC in Part IV—Somewhere I Belong—And I promise this is the last evil cliffhanger!