At Rope's End (A Dr. James Verraday Mystery #1)(74)
“It’s sad, really,” said Maclean. “Her parents told me that when they got her, she was so developmentally stunted, she didn’t know how to walk or even smile. They eventually got her physically healthy, but the other part of her, that inner part, never seemed to heal. They said she never seemed to bond with them either. Not really. They bought a few family pets over the years but stopped because the animals always died mysteriously. They tried taking her to a counselor. You can guess the rest.”
“Psychopaths are extremely good at appearing normal when it suits them,” said Verraday, “and they can be very charming when they want something. Counselors get fooled all the time. It takes years of training—and really good instincts—to detect one.”
“The adoptive parents hoped that going away to university and getting a career would straighten her out. They’re feeling pretty guilty about what happened. But they said there was never enough evidence to do anything serious, and they loved her in spite of it all.”
“It’s human nature,” said Verraday, “irrational as it is. It’s an evolutionary development. Parents love their kids and want to protect them no matter what those kids are like. Otherwise most of us would probably have been strangled in our cradles.”
“I like it when you let your romantic side show like that,” quipped Maclean.
Verraday began to laugh but felt a searing pain in his shoulder and abdomen. Once it had subsided enough for him to speak, he continued.
“By the time they took her out of the orphanage, it wouldn’t have mattered what her adoptive parents did. No amount of kindness would have changed her. The jack-in-the-box handle was cranking away inside her head, and it was just a matter of time until the lid blew off.”
“I’ll tell them you said so. Except for that jack-in-the-box part. Maybe it’ll make them feel better. Anyway I don’t want to monopolize your time. The doctor says that until you’re stronger, you can only have visitors for half an hour a day. Penny’s waiting out in the hall. With your dad.”
“My dad? Did I hear you correctly?”
“You just said it yourself. Parents love their kids.”
Verraday nodded. “Listen, before you leave. You still up for going to that Thai restaurant with me next weekend?”
Maclean frowned. “Sorry. I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
Verraday had an anxious, sinking feeling, and he didn’t want to push Maclean for a reason. Maclean had read Jensen’s diary. He could only imagine what Jensen must have written in there. Probably something about Verraday checking out the thumbnails of her in lingerie. It was excruciatingly embarrassing, and no doubt it would have extinguished any budding romantic feelings that Maclean had toward him. He resigned himself to it. What could he expect? He was an idiot to have taken Jensen’s bait, and the Internet was a merciless public arena that didn’t allow you to conceal any lapses in judgment. He might as well have set up a Twitter feed to announce his sexual tastes and lack of common sense to the world.
“That’s too bad” was all he could muster by way of a response. But he didn’t push it, because he really didn’t want to hear the reason she had changed her mind about going out on a date with him.
“For one thing,” Maclean continued, “the doctor says you won’t be out of here until next week. And I’m not really into Thai food, so I’ll have to pass.”
“Sure, I understand,” said Verraday, trying not to sound dejected.
Then Maclean grinned at him mischievously. “But I heard there’s a Bettie Page exhibit on at the MoMA. Could be fun. What do you say?”