The Trapped Girl (Tracy Crosswhite #4)(61)

“You said ‘susceptible.’ You don’t know if Andrea had a dissociative disorder?”

“Not with certainty. The typical onset is early twenties. She’d left counseling by then.”

“How would it have manifested, if she’d had it?”

“A number of different ways. For one, the person can be prone to mood swings and impulsive acts.”

“Would an impulsive act be getting married after just a few weeks?”

“It could be.”

“Are these people capable of committing harmful acts?”

“Suicide attempts are not uncommon.”

“I meant harmful acts against others?”

“Certainly.”

“What can trigger it?”

“Again, it can be several things. Another traumatic event—abuse or a perceived abandonment, a betrayal, or just a feeling of desperation.”

Tracy didn’t need Townsend to explain that, in those categories, Andrea Strickland had been a perfect four for four.

“Were you aware that Andrea had a trust, Doctor?”

“Andrea mentioned it,” he said and then looked doubtful. “Or it could have been her aunt said something in passing.” He paused. Then he said, “I believe it was the aunt. She said she was grateful Andrea would, at least, always be financially taken care of. Frankly, I was uncertain whether that was a good thing.”

“Why is that?”

“Given Andrea’s uncertain future mental state, the trust would have made it easy for her to not work, and potentially to engage in an unhealthy lifestyle.”

“Drugs?” Tracy said, thinking of the pot store, Genesis.

“Potentially.”

“And the trust could have also made her susceptible to persons hoping to take advantage of her, could it not?”

“Yes,” he said. “It could have. If they knew of it, of course.”

“Of course.”





CHAPTER 20


On a Friday night, Devin persuaded me to go out after work. I’d made the mistake of telling her Graham had gone to a bachelor party in Las Vegas for the weekend, which meant I couldn’t use him as an excuse to get home. With Graham unemployed, he was around the loft almost all day and most nights. Having my job back felt like a reprieve from having to spend time with him. I left for work early and didn’t come home until late. Often I would take the current novel I was reading, and my laptop, to a coffeehouse with wireless Internet access. If I stayed out late enough, I could return home to find Graham passed out, avoid the perfunctory conversations, and sneak off to bed, letting him sleep on the couch.

I was counting the days until our Rainier trip.

With Graham in Las Vegas, I’d have the loft to myself the entire weekend. What I really wanted was to go home and continue planning without having to sneak behind Graham’s back, but I decided that I owed it to Devin to spend a few hours with her. I’d dumped a lot of my personal problems on her, and she’d always been there to listen. Besides, she was the only real friend I had in Portland, and soon I would be gone.

She chose a sports-themed bar close to the office that included multiple television screens. Sports paraphernalia hung on the walls and drooped from the ceiling. I guessed the bar was popular, because the tables filled quickly. We found a couple abandoning an elevated table with two tall chairs a safe distance from the televisions and quickly grabbed it. The waitress, dressed in a black-and-white referee shirt and cheek-hugging black shorts, quickly descended on us for drink orders. She set down cocktail napkins and advised that it was happy hour. Appetizers were just a few dollars. Devin ordered hummus and flatbread and an olive plate. Just the thought of food made my queasy stomach churn.

“Two Lemon Drops,” Devin said to the waitress, raising her voice over the din of the crowd.

“I’m good,” I said, shaking my head. “Just water.”

“Come on, we’re celebrating.” Devin snatched the drink menu and handed it to the waitress, who departed.

“What exactly are we celebrating?”

“Your return to work.”

“I’m back because we had to file bankruptcy.”

“I know, but I’m still glad to have you back. It wasn’t the same without you. I don’t know how I survived the boredom.”

“Listen,” I said. “Thanks for being there for me, for letting me unload all my problems on you.”

Devin waved it off. “It’s no big deal.”

“It is. It meant a lot to me. I’m sorry I lost touch when I left. You’re my only real friend here.”

“That’s not true,” she said.

“It is. You’re the only person I’ve ever been able to count on.”

“Well, I missed not having you around,” she said.

I smiled at that. “You mean the girl who goes home every night and sticks her nose in a book.”

She laughed. “Okay, so tell me. Have you heard from the attorneys about your trust? Are the creditors going to be able to get at it?”

I don’t know what compelled me. Maybe it was just the need to tell someone because keeping it a secret had consumed me. “I’m not waiting for the attorneys,” I said.

“What?”