LETHAL OBSESSION (10 page)

      “Dis
ain’t enough. You promised me two hundred for the job. You owe me another
hundred, Sheriff Stone. Hell, I did what ya asked, scared the bejesus out of
that woman. Almost fell out of the damn tree to do it.  Fork it over,
Sheriff." He held out his grimy hand.

      With
a tight angry face, Gene peeled off another wad of bills.  Pushing them into
the man’s hand, he said. “Okay, Jason, take it and shut up.  Now get the hell
out of here. And just as a reminder, I think you already know what happens to wagging
tongues around here.  Do we understand each other?”

      Jason
gave a rotten-toothed grin.  “Shore do, Sheriff. I ain't sayin nothin." He
made a gesture of a finger raking his throat. "Ya don’t need to worry none
bout ole Jason.  He knows what he's supposed to do.”

      Gene
closed his office door and waved a bandana around to disperse the sour body
odor.  "Damn," he muttered to himself. Using the cloth, he tried to
wipe Jason off his fingers where the money was exchanged.

      Ellen
sat in the kitchen, hands around her warm coffee mug.  She stared out over the
distant hills as the morning sun turned them from hazy purple to a dusty gold.
After Gene left, she tried to go back to bed but sleep was impossible.  Her
conscience poked and prodded her until she finally gave up. Happy thoughts
about the project went up in smoke.  She had no idea how to even get started on
her own.

Ellen
took another sip from her cup and shivered. Maybe Mark's death has finally sent
her over the edge.  She must be going crazy.  Vivid flashes of memory pounded
her senses. Why did she allow a married man to touch her like that?  Of course
Ellen was dreaming and thought it was Mark, but in her conscience that was no
excuse.  Drinking liquor and falling asleep next to Gene was her sin.  

      Self-revulsion
made her feel ill.  How could she betray Mark this way?  But Mark was no longer
here to betray.  So why did she feel so guilty like she had been cheating on
him? Ellen ran a trembling hand over her face.  She was not handling this
widowhood thing well at all and did not need the additional burden of
self-hate.  Missing and grieving for Mark was bad enough.

      “I’m
sorry, Mark. I'd like to find a nice man some day but certainly not one who
already has a wife.”  Her barely whispered words echoed inside her ears.  She
felt the warm tears and quickly wiped them away. “Get hold of yourself, Ellen.
Just grow up and deal with it.”

      “Senora? 
Did you need something?”                         

      Ellen
looked up in surprise, not realizing she had spoken aloud. “No Juanita.  Thank
you.  I’m fine.  I'm going to take a walk.  Need to get some fresh air.”

      Ellen
got up and headed for the bedroom.  Pulling open a drawer, she slipped on some
jeans and a sweatshirt.  She grabbed a brush and ran it through her long hair
peering closely into the mirror.  The vision staring back looked haunted.  Her
fingers touched the dark circles around her eyes.  She looked like walking
death.  How long was this agony going to last?

      Right
then Ellen made a determined decision not to see Gene Stone again no matter
what the circumstances. She would rather deal with a burglar herself. Ellen
would get on with her life and it was going to start right this minute. Just as
she was walking out the door the phone rang.  

      "Anderson
residence.”  Juanita looked up at Ellen who shook her head signaling she did
not want to talk to anyone.

      “Mrs.
Anderson can no come to phone, Senor...I’m sorry. I don’t know...excuse me, Senor.
I no lie.”

      Furious,
Ellen took the phone from the Juanita’s hand.  "Who is this?”

      “Ellen,
it's me.  I have to talk to you.”

      With
a look of exasperation, Ellen walked out of the kitchen and out of ear shot. 
“There’s nothing for us to talk about, Gene.”

      “Look,
Ellen, I don’t want it to be like this between us.”

      “There
is no
us
, Gene. You have a very sweet wife.  Your time and attention
belongs with her. Don't call here again."

      “Ellen,
I’m sorry about what happened last night.  I was out of line. It won’t happen
again.  I promise.  But please, don’t shut me out.”

      “Look,
Gene, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and I don’t mean to sound
ungrateful, but...”

      “But
what, Ellen?  Are you saying you don’t trust me?”

      “I’m
saying I don’t trust you or myself and I need to be alone to grieve for my
husband.  Don’t call me anymore, and don't you ever call Juanita a liar.” 

      Abruptly
Ellen hung up the phone and rushed out the door.  She walked across the
manicured lawn, unlocked her security gate, and disappeared into the
surrounding forest.                

      The
fall sky was a magnificent blue against a backdrop of blazing red, yellow and orange
leaves.  Ellen looked up into the tall trees and breathed in the sweet pungent
smell of wood smoke from campfires and burning leaves. There was a nip to the
air and she pulled the windbreaker around her. 

It
was such a beautiful day here in the forest surrounded by the serenity of
nature. Mark loved this time of year. It was why they decided to move here to
the Smoky Mountains.  Soon all the colorful leaves would be brown and dead. 
She and Mark always had a cheery fire burning as they sat cuddled on the couch,
eating buttery popcorn and watching the lazy snowflakes float to the ground. 

      The
thought of a frigid winter alone in the chalet without the warm comforting
presence of her husband brought the sting of tears to her eyes.  Oh God.  Life
was so hard.  She never believed anything could hurt like this.  Looking up
into the towering treetops and hugging herself, Ellen felt the desolation creep
into her soul.  Somehow, someway, she was going to get through it.  She had
to.  There was no choice.  It was hard for her to admit, but perhaps it was
time to seek some grief counseling.                                                  

      Gene
listened to the dial tone for a few seconds before he slowly hung up the
phone.  Losing Ellen was not an option.  He began rearranging things on his
desk as he thought about his next ploy.  Ellen Anderson didn't know who she was
dealing with.  Gene knew once he made up his mind, come hell or high water he
would get what he wanted.  Perhaps getting her to see things his way wasn't
going to be as easy as he first thought.  Then Gene smiled.  He sure loved a
challenge to sweeten the pot.  Ellen would belong to him sooner or later.

      Ellen
went online and was overwhelmed with lists of psychiatrists who specialized in
everything from obsessive, compulsive disorders to hallucinations. Good grief,
how was she ever going to find a counselor that was right for her?  Most of
these listings were in Knoxville.  Did she really want to drive that far for a
counseling session?  Cedar Grove was a small town.  Surely nobody here could
help her, but it was worth a look. 

      Reaching
for the thin, local phone book, Ellen looked in the yellow pages under Physicians.
 Richard Carrington, Doctor of psychiatry specialized in grief counseling.  At
least this doctor was local and his specialty suited her.  She closed the phone
book.  Nope, can't do it, she thought to herself.  Giving out intimate details
concerning Mark and Gene to a stranger?  Is she crazy? 

      An
hour later Ellen picked up phone book again. She book marked the page and walked
away.  It took several more hours to work up the nerve to call for an
appointment but once done, Ellen was committed.  At least a dozen times she
called to cancel but stopped herself at the last minute.

      Sitting
in the quiet, attractive office, Ellen had to force herself not to get up and
run. There was no receptionist, just a waiting room with comfortable chairs,
couch, and a glass top table.  Tasteful periodicals were stacked in a rack. 
Ellen picked up a "Life" magazine and started thumbing through it.
The information blurred before her eyes. 

       With
a pounding heart, she couldn't imagine what this experience was going to be
like. True confessions was not her cup of tea.  Would she have to lie on a
couch?  Would he have a beard and look like Freud?  Would he take one look at
her and consider her totally whacko?  Ellen already thought of herself as
whacko.

      There
was a beautiful, natural planted aquarium in a corner of the waiting room flanked
by blooming orchids. Watching the colorful fish swim amongst the greenery was
almost hypnotic so she concentrated on the tranquil bubbling waters, ridding
her mind of all else.

      The
office door opened and Ellen startled and nearly leaped from the chair.       

CHAPTER ELEVEN

      "Mrs.
Anderson?  I'm Rick Carrington.  Would you like to come in?"                                                                     

      Ellen
knew her mouth was hanging open.  She found herself staring into the greenest
eyes she had ever seen.  He was so young, almost boyish in appearance.  The
doctor's smile was warm and genuine and his thick, sable hair looked soft and
slightly curly. This man didn't look like a doctor at all. Dr. Carrington did
not fit her idea of a psychiatrist.       Clutching her purse against her body,
Ellen got up on trembling legs and walked into the inner office trying to hide
her nervousness.                                                    

      "Please
have a seat and make yourself comfortable." He motioned to a leather chair
next to his rather large, messy desk.  "Would you like some coffee or
maybe water?"                         

      Ellen
looked toward the couch.  "No thank you. Do I have to lie down?"                                                       

      "Not
unless you want to."                                       

      "The
chair will be fine."                                      

      Rick
settled himself behind the desk and gave Ellen a warm, dimpled smile. "I
get the feeling I'm not what you expected."  

      "No,
you're not at all what I expected."                     

      "Is
that good or bad?"                                        

      "Well
it's good.  You look young and..." she almost said handsome as her face
bloomed with color.         

      "Good
is a good way to start.  Can you tell me about yourself?  Anything you feel
comfortable talking about will be fine.  Everything we discuss in this office
is absolutely confidential. I will be taking notes and I hope that doesn't
bother you." 

      Rick
leaned back in his chair relaxed and waited for her to start. Ellen looked down
at her hands trying to gather her thoughts.  Already she could feel her earlier
anxiety melting away.  She liked this doctor. It was crazy but Ellen felt recognition. 
Perhaps she had seen Dr. Carrington around town.

      "I
lost my husband in a plane crash five months ago.  Mark and I were very close
and happy. It's been hard."         

      "I'm
sorry."                                                     

      Ellen
could see it in his eyes.  He was truly sorry.          

      "I
haven't done well with widowhood."               

      "I
don't know of anyone who would."                             

      Ellen
noticed the photo of a pretty woman with two small children.  Dr. Carrington
had his happy family.  Could he really understand what she was going through? 
The silence between them continued until Ellen felt herself beginning to
fidget.  He was waiting and she was at a loss for words.  Why was she sitting
here?  Seeking psychiatric help may not have been a good idea.

      "I
guess I'm wasting your time."                       

      "Not
at all."                                                     

      He
was probably used to crazy people taking up his office space with nothing to
say.                                 

      "Mrs.
Anderson," Rick leaned forward over his folded hands. "You made this
appointment for a reason.  And no, you are not crazy or somehow a mental
deviant for coming here.  "You're in pain, a lot of pain.  I know I can
help you."                        

      Ellen
looked at him as tears stung here eyes.  Trying to hold back a sob, she said, "how
do you know that?"                  

      "I
just know."                                                        

      She
wasn't sure what it was about this man that drew her.  Maybe it was his youth
or warm smile, but whatever it was, Ellen knew she could trust Dr. Carrington
with the secrets of her innermost soul.  She needed someone who could be
objective and hear her out. It was time to open up and start telling her story.            

      "I
came from an abusive home but I don't think that has any influence on my
present situation. I put myself through school, got my MBA and was proud of how
far I'd come. Then I met my husband Mark, and life for me became more wonderful
than I could have ever imagined. Losing him like I did, one minute here, the
next minute gone, well it threw me into this weird place."