The Night Before(82)

“Again, it’s just a theory,” she says. “But I think he needed to create a justification for making sure you were always available, because he needed you to belong only to him. That became difficult after you all grew up and started looking for partners. He found one, but I doubt she ever really knew him. He would have hidden himself from her. He would have compartmentalized her—his sexual partner. His roommate. His cover with the outside world to appear normal. But, Laura—he needed you to be alone so that in his mind, you belonged only to him. He told himself he was doing this all for you—to protect you—so he could justify it.”

She leans her elbows on the table and shakes her head. Then she looks at her intern and speaks more to him than to us.

“These types of psychoses are extremely complex. There are layers upon layers of ego that have to be managed. Gabe didn’t want to see himself as a vulnerable, needy little boy who let his brother abuse him. Who needed a fierce but younger little girl to be his protector. So he created an alternate theory for why he had to keep her close and all to himself. He was the protector. He was the strong one. It made his ego happy while still allowing him to have his desperate attachment to Laura.”

We all grew silent then because the picture was coming together clearly now. A clear, terrifying picture of our entire lives.

I think about Gabe the night I went on the date with Jonathan Fielding. I think about him in the kitchen, laughing with Joe about how old Jonathan Fielding was. And how he must have slipped that note in the purse that was on the kitchen counter. And then how he must have followed me downtown and then to the harbor and then back to Jonathan’s apartment.

The police told us that he tried to get into the building several times before the pizza deliveryman held the door for him. Then he waited until the hallway was empty.

He knew about Edward Rittle from an old case he’d worked on. He had it all set up—how he would lead Rosie to the harbor and then to Rittle, where she would find an entire pool of disgruntled women. He was going to help in the search for a few days until Fielding was found and I became a suspect. And then he was going to disappear with me. Only, it would seem he’d gone on a last-minute vacation with his wife.

Gabe had a thick plastic bag in the trunk of his car—large enough for a body. There was also a shovel, and a passport with Melissa’s information, but a photograph of me. And cash and plane tickets to Indonesia. There is no extradition treaty with Indonesia.

“He was going to bury her body along the way. By the time her family started to wonder why she hadn’t been in touch, it would have been too late,” the psychologist says. “It was finally time. He couldn’t keep you under control from afar anymore. You were starting to meet men who were serious about you. Who might want to marry you one day. He’d run out of road, so he started to pave a new one.”

Nothing about this seems real to me. Not yet. But I know that day will come.

It will not be a good day.

“Where is he?” I ask. The police ushered us out of that basement before they’d even put handcuffs on Gabe. Joe had arrived and was waiting out on the street, held at bay by the police. We went to his car and stayed until they took Gabe.

“He’s being evaluated. A lawyer has been assigned and will meet with him and begin the process,” she says.

“The process of determining if he’s fit to be charged?” I ask. I know how this goes. This was what happened to Lionel Casey.

Lionel Casey—another one of Gabe’s victims. Another burden for me to carry.

She nods again. “Yes. The truth is that Gabe Wallace is a deeply disturbed man.”

“What is he saying?” Rosie asks now.

The woman sighs. She doesn’t want to answer.

But she does.

“He wants to see Laura.”

Laura. I hear my name. I say it to myself, and I know others will be saying it now.

Laura, the reason my son is dead.

Laura, the reason my husband is dead.

Laura, the reason my father is dead.

Laura, the reason my husband left us years ago.

I feel the tears come again as I picture the faces of those who will be thinking my name. The Adler family. The Casey family. The Brody family. My family.

How do I live with this? How do I walk this earth knowing that I caused a man to do these unspeakable things? Knowing that he will, one day, likely be free and walking among us. I know how the system works. And Gabe is smart. He knows how to hide and pretend. He’s done it his whole life. He may never pay for what he’s done.

Kevin would tell me it’s not my fault. Not any of it. He would tell me I was a victim as much as anyone else, even though I am still alive. And he would tell me not to punish myself but to move forward. To honor the lives taken by living a good life myself.

He would compare me to the sole survivor of a fatal car crash—maybe someone who insisted on sitting in the back. Or the target of a murder who stepped out of the way just as the gun went off, leaving another to take the bullet.

Survivor’s guilt is nothing new. That’s what Kevin would say.

Kevin was a good man. And Kevin loved me no matter how unworthy I may be.

“Are we done?” I ask.

“I think so. If we have more questions, you’ll be at your sister’s house?” she asks.

Joe and Rosie say yes together and emphatically. Joe’s arm tightens around us both.