Off the Deep End (32)

But as the weeks stretched into a month and then another month, things hadn’t changed at all. Isaac had completely shut himself off from the rest of the world. We could barely get him to come out for dinner. All he did was sit in his room and play video games or lie in there in silence with the lights off for hours. I didn’t know which was worse. He went days without showering. That was when we decided that we were going to have to start making him take steps back into the world again. He couldn’t live in his bedroom forever. Theresa supported our decisions and helped us come up with a plan at his next session. School was the first step.

He didn’t want to go. He kicked and screamed on his bed like a toddler in the throes of the worst tantrum, but we wouldn’t budge. We shoved him back into his life.

Did we shove him out too quickly? Had he been right all along? It wasn’t that long after his return to school that he started visiting Jules at the hospital. Had his visits followed her to Samaritan House? Despite Detective Hawkins’s promises that they were exhausting every lead, I still wasn’t convinced they were looking into the other residents at Samaritan House. Were they just interviewing Jules as a way to placate me?

What if Isaac had talked to other people while he was visiting her at Samaritan House like he’d done while she was in the hospital? It was certainly possible. If he wasn’t afraid to talk to seriously mentally ill people in a hospital, then he probably wasn’t afraid to talk to them in the real world either. What if one of them had done something to hurt him? What if she didn’t have anything to do with it outside being the means of introduction? Who else was living in that group home?

I had to know, and I’d do whatever it took to find out.





CASE #72946

PATIENT: JULIET (JULES) HART

“I’ve noticed something . . .” Dr. Stephens lets his voice trail off in that annoying way he does, trying to get me to the edge of my seat in anticipation of the hidden insight or knowledge he has to reveal.

“What’s that?” I ask, playing along to please him. Mostly because I’m starting to get bored with all this. He treats me like I’m an idiot, and I don’t like being treated like an idiot.

“You don’t seem very upset that Isaac’s missing.” He gives me his most pointed look to date. “For as close as the two of you were, it seems like you would be more worried about his whereabouts, and you don’t seem the least bit concerned that they just found his clothes in a cardboard box or that he might be the next victim of a serial killer.”

“What makes you think I’m not worried?” I meet his pointed stare with my own challenging one. “Because I’m not emotional? Because I’m not a big puddle of tears on the ground right now sobbing?” I stretch across the table, getting as close to him as possible. “Would you be asking me the same questions if I were a man?”

He snaps back in his chair. It’s a direct hit. One he wasn’t expecting. I keep going. Not giving him a chance to recover.

“Truth is, I’m worried sick about Isaac. I have been ever since I heard the news. I work really hard at not thinking about it, though, because it only makes me sad. It takes me to some dark places and, Dr. Stephens, I don’t need to tell you how important it is for me to stay out of there, you know?” I bat my eyelashes at him. I’m not sure why I’m toying with him. Maybe because he doesn’t think I’m smart enough to do it, and that bugs me.

“So, you are upset about Isaac?” He folds his hands on the table.

“Absolutely.” I nod vigorously. “What kind of a terrible person would I be if I wasn’t?”

“It just seems like you would be asking more questions about it if that were the case.”

“Why?” I wrinkle my nose at him. “What kinds of questions need to be asked? We all know what happened to him.”

He shrinks back. “Do we?”

Nice try, Dr. Stephens. He’s going to have to work harder than that.

“We do,” I say with a smile. “Same thing that happened to those other boys.” I quickly erase the smile from my face. “Honestly, I just can’t believe it.” I shake my head. My hands twist underneath the table. “You’re concerned that I’m not worried, but I think that’s probably because I’m more shocked than anything else. Like, what’s the likelihood of something like that happening to Isaac? The kid survives a terrible car accident where his friend dies, and then he gets kidnapped? All within the same year?” I shake my head in disbelief again. “I just feel so bad for the family. Don’t you?”

“Me?” He points to himself as if there’s any misunderstanding about who I’m referring to. We’re the only ones in the room. “Of course I feel bad for the Greers. I feel terrible.” There’s no mistaking he feels slightly insulted that I might’ve implied he was the uncaring and disconnected one. I try not to smile.

I sit back in my chair and fold my arms across my chest. “I’m not really sure what I’m doing here. If we’re both on the same page about what happened to Isaac, what is it that you think I might be able to help you with?”

He tilts his head and speaks slowly, drawing out the words for dramatic effect. “Well, we’re not entirely sure what happened to Isaac.”

“What do you mean? It’s obvious, isn’t it? Isaac fits the same profile as Brady and Josh: similar age, quiet and reserved, keeps to himself with just a few friends.” He’s studying me closely as I speak, but none of this is information you couldn’t find with a decent Google search. “Then he goes missing while he’s walking the dog? I mean, I hate to say it, and of course I’d never wish anything awful like that on anyone, but come on . . . it only gets worse from there. Then the phone. Now the clothes.” Naked dead body discarded in a field six days later. I leave out the last part, but he’s thinking it, too, just like me. All anyone’s doing is hoping they can find him before then.