“Yeah.”
“The facility finally got her old records to me. Apparently there was some turnover in the records department that caused the delay.”
Damn. I’d paid that department a lot to get those records unsealed and to Dr. Pelletier. Delay my ass. Good thing I hadn’t gone with my first instinct months ago and had them all destroyed.
“Some heads are going to roll. But at least you have them now. You can review them and help her even more.”
“I have reviewed them, Mr. Steel. That’s the issue.”
“Okay…” My stomach churned. “I assume there’s something in there I should know.”
“There’s a lot in there you should know,” he said, “but the most alarming is that your wife was heavily medicated.”
“I assumed so. That explains why she has such significant memory loss from that time.”
He cleared his throat. “That could be a partial explanation, yes.”
“What other explanation could there be?”
“Her diagnosis.”
“I know what her diagnosis was. Anxiety and depression.”
“Anxiety and depression were some of her symptoms, but her actual diagnosis was dissociative identity disorder.”
“Dissocia— What?”
“It’s also known as multiple personality disorder.”
“What the hell is that?”
“Did you read the book Sybil? It came out a few years ago.”
“I was in college for the last several years. I didn’t have time to read for pleasure, and I doubt I’d read some girlie book. What the hell are you talking about?”
“Dissociative identity disorder is the new name for split personality.”
“I’m still not following.”
“Like I said, she was kept heavily medicated,” he said. “And even when she wasn’t medicated, she had limited interaction with other patients. I always thought it odd that she remembered the patients but not their actual names. Now I have an explanation.”
My gut convulsed. “What’s the explanation, then?”
“The patients are all her. Aspects of her. Different personalities.”
The receiver dropped out of my hand and thudded onto my lap. I quickly picked it up and put it back to my ear.
“Mr. Steel? Are you there?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m here.”
“It’s a classic case. She has memories of these so-called separate people. The memories are becoming more vivid.”
Multiple personalities. My Daphne. My Daphne whose personality was the sweetest in the world. Why hadn’t Jonathan told me?
Jonathan Wade isn’t who you think he is, son. Be careful.
I swallowed. “What does this all mean?”
“It means”—he cleared his throat—“she’s likely to dissociate again.”
I gulped.
She’s likely to dissociate again.
Into what? Or more accurately, who?
“Can you tell me about these personalities?”
“I wish I could. She hasn’t signed a records release, and I’m already skating on thin ice telling you about her diagnosis. I haven’t yet told her. I’m trying to figure out exactly how to tell a young mother such a diagnosis.”
Daphne didn’t know. Good. I didn’t want her to know. I had to protect her. “Don’t tell her.”
“I have to tell her, Mr. Steel.”
“Why? Just keep her from splitting off again, and she never has to know.”
“She can’t heal if she doesn’t—”
“At the risk of repeating myself, Doctor, I’m paying you a shit ton of money.”
He cleared his throat. “I’m aware of our circumstances, Mr. Steel. You haven’t given me a lot of choice in the matter.”
“Listen, I—”
“Please don’t patronize me, Mr. Steel. I know exactly what our situation is.”
“Have I threatened you in any way?”
“Just because you haven’t held a gun to my head yet doesn’t mean you haven’t threatened me. You made it clear when I agreed to help your wife that I had no choice in the matter.”
“Not once did I threaten your life.”
“Perhaps not in those words. But what did you expect I’d think when you told me your father had left you all his money and all his guns?”
Yeah, not my finest moment, but I’d been desperate.
“I’m—”
“Please,” he said. “Don’t bother apologizing or trying to make excuses for your words. We both know it’s bullshit.”
“Hey, I—”
“Let me finish. I care about your wife, Mr. Steel. I believe I can help her, and I believe that’s what you want from me. She’s been through so much trauma that she had to split off from herself to deal with it. She needs therapy. Good therapy, and I can provide that.”
“That’s what I’m paying you for.”
“I want to help her. I do. But if she dissociates, she may require hospitalization.”
“Then you need to make sure she doesn’t dissociate again. Our child needs her intact.”
“I’m afraid I won’t have any control over that. It’s doubtful she’ll dissociate in a session. If it happens, it will be because she either remembers something traumatic, or because something new and traumatic happens. You’ll need to watch for the signs.”
God help me. My sweet Daphne. I exhaled. “What signs?”
“Loss of memory, for one. She may not remember an interaction with you that you recall clearly.”
My mind raced. Had that happened? No, it hadn’t. At least not yet. Good.
“A loss of self-identity.”
“What’s that?”
“You know your wife. She’s a devoted mother. If that changes, she may be dissociating.”
“I can’t imagine she’d turn her back on our child.”
“She wouldn’t. At least Daphne wouldn’t. The other personalities may not have the emotional attachment to the baby, however.”
I cleared my throat. A question hovered on my lips—a question I didn’t want to ask but had to.
“Doctor, is my child safe with Daphne?”
Chapter Two
Daphne
I ran into the library and uncrumpled the wad of paper in my hand.
Dear Brad Steel,
How important is it to you that your wife never finds out what happened to her? How much are you willing to pay?
I’ll wait for your call.
A friend
I gulped.
His wife? I was Brad’s wife. Something had happened to me? Something I didn’t know about?
My heart dropped into my stomach.
My hands shook as I attempted to smooth out the crumpled paper. I couldn’t put it back in the envelope now. Why had I even looked?
What could I do?
Nothing had happened to me. Except…there was still a lot I didn’t remember. A phone number was written on the bottom of the paper.