“You can’t see it now because they’re still at large. But believe me. I’ve had so many patients who think that once they put someone who did them wrong behind bars, they’ll feel so much better. They don’t. It doesn’t work that way. Believe me, I wish it did. Of course, then I’d be out of a job.” She smiled.
I thought for a minute. What if someone had killed someone I loved? One of my brothers or my sister? Or—God—Jade? Would I feel any better seeing the killer behind bars? It wouldn’t bring Jade back.
“Okay, Doc, I see what you’re getting at.”
“I’m not telling you to stop trying to catch them and bring them to justice. Just don’t confuse that with your own healing.”
“Gotcha.”
“So you want to try to remember something about the third man, the one you referred to as Low Voice?”
I nodded. “The only thing constant about that entire time was the phoenix tattoo. But then recently I remembered that one of the others was missing a toe. So it seems possible that I might be able to remember something about the third one.”
“It’s certainly possible. But the phoenix tattoo and the missing toe are both very distinct physical characteristics about two people that most people don’t have. What if this third person didn’t have a distinct characteristic like that?”
“Surely there must be something I could remember about him. I mean, he did have a low voice.”
“But you said yourself that you’re remembering this as a ten-year-old, and your voice was still prepubescent. So all we really know is that this guy’s voice was lower than the other two.”
“Don’t try to talk me out of this, Doc.”
She smiled. “Talon, I would never try to talk you out of anything. But I just want you to understand going in that there may not be anything distinct about the third guy. What are the chances that all three of these men have some distinguishing characteristic?”
“I’ve got to try. I’ve just got to.”
“All right. Would you like to try guided hypnosis again? I have to warn you, Talon, it won’t be like the last time. Last time we went back to a dream you had recently. This time I would have to take you back to when you were ten years old, to witness the horrors that actually took place. Are you ready for that?”
I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply. Slowly I let my breath out, willing my hands to unclench from the armchair. I had to do this. Maybe finding those fuckers wouldn’t heal me, but at least I’d know they were getting their just desserts. I opened my eyes and stared at Dr. Carmichael with all the intensity I could muster. “I’m sure. Let’s do it, Doc.”
* * *
Sometimes I dreamed about a beach. We didn’t go to the beach much, but I’d been a few times in both Florida and California. I’d seen both oceans. Nothing was more fun than the waves. Joe and Ryan and I used to love playing in the waves, getting our trucks filled with sand, yet still going back for more.
My mother would call out, “Ryan, don’t go in any farther!”
But my little brother was not to be left behind. He followed me ever
ywhere. And I in turn followed Joe. The beach was fun. The sound of the waves, the smell of the sand, the coconut oil sunscreen, the fish. Sometimes I walked off by myself, looking for shells. Joe and Ryan weren’t interested in that, especially Joe. My big brother loved the water and stayed in it the entire time we were at the beach. Although Ryan wasn’t as drawn to the water as Joe was, he had no interest in collecting shells, so walking along the beach was the one place Ryan didn’t follow me. I liked being alone. My little brother got on my nerves most of the time.
Sometimes I would lie on my beach towel and just let the sun shine on my wet body.
As I was doing now.
I let the rays soak into me, let their warmth infuse me.
Had I ever been this relaxed before? Maybe when I was riding a horse. But not any other time.
Sometimes I wished we didn’t live in Colorado. The mountains were beautiful and I loved them, but there was something about the beach…
Until I was plucked from my beach towel.
“You ready for some action, boy?” the one with the low voice said.
“I’m hungry,” I squeaked out.
“We fed you, didn’t we, boy?”
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. I’d lost track. Sometimes the third one, the one who seemed more like a follower, the one who was missing a toe, brought me three meals a day. Other times he didn’t come at all. And even if he did, I often threw up what I ate.