Marty Fox’s Office
November 23, 12.15 p.m.
Marty Fox was already late and the elevator seemed to be stuck on the sixteenth. He looked up, rolling his shoulders back as he felt the clammy sweat on his silk shirt. He shouldn’t have run. Rushing through the crowds in a cashmere overcoat really could crease a nice shirt. He was thinking about dollar signs on his credit card bill and how he was going to transfer a thousand bucks without his wife’s persistent questions. He’d park the car two streets away on his way home and tell her it was in for a service. The idea pleased him, and he suddenly looked happier. He had promised his wife that he would never have another affair, but it hadn’t quite worked yet. Some temptations were once-in-a-lifetime and Joanna Anderson was one of them.
He knew he had spent too much money on impressing Joanna Anderson with a first-date lunch. Over four hundred bucks for a piece of poultry with some salty sauce and no fries. Still, French cuisine impressed women; no wonder it was so expensive. Joanna was a rich man’s mistress and looked like it. Hell, he knew she was a totally economically unviable fuck. He could maybe afford getting one night out of her, but he’d have to make it a memorable one. After that, the till was closed and he knew a burger joint wouldn’t spring Joanna’s locks. She was about eight levels out of his league.
The elevator finally arrived and a family of four identical overweight individuals in velour tracksuits came out, all holding hands. Marty thought that family therapy should be deemed illegal as a matter of course. Nothing worse for a family than a psychologist. He was standing in the lift, his back to the shining fake gold interior, when he saw Nick Smith striding towards him. Marty felt uncomfortable. He’d taken Nick off his books and not even told him. He always preferred the coward’s way. Nick put out his hand to hold the door, and entered the lift. He looked at Marty but didn’t speak.
The doors shut and the lift started to climb. Finally, Marty couldn’t bear it any more. ‘Hey, Nick, I passed you to Dr Bartholomew because he’s trained in DID. It’s a specialist area and I’m worried I can’t help you. He’s a great doctor.’
Nick remained silent.
‘Are you going to see Dr B. now, Nick?’
Nick shook his head. ‘I’m coming to see you, Dr Fox. You’re my doctor.’
‘That’s not possible, Nick, I’ve transferred your file. I’ve spoken to Dr Bartholomew. It’s all set up.’
‘I’d prefer to stick with you, thanks,’ said Nick.
‘You don’t quite understand. I’m not willing to treat you. I can’t help.’
‘You are helping, Dr Fox. I rang your PA and got her to transfer me back over to you. I told her it was a mistake. She was happy to oblige.’
Marty was open-mouthed as the two men stood side by side, waiting for the lift door to open on Marty’s floor. Marty decided that small talk with a guy like Nick was pointless and might as well wait for the couch where at least he got paid for it. He looked down, and his eyes focused on Nick’s black leather shoes. They were covered in mud. He looked up to his hand. It was shaking.
In the office, Marty pulled off his coat and watched Nick prowl around the room. He was going to throttle his fucking PA as soon as he got a spare moment. He turned to his unwelcome client. ‘You want to take the weight off your feet there, Nick?’
‘I don’t feel good,’ said Nick.
He didn’t look good, either. His face was pale, his body was shaking more obviously and Marty could see panic in his eyes.
‘Calm yourself down, Nick. It’s a panic attack. It’s not real. Let me get you a glass of water. Just sit down.’
But Nick wasn’t listening. He was shaking and shivering more violently now. His eyes were staring ahead, fixed on some point in the distance. Marty went across and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Sit, my friend.’
Nick cried out as the pain in his head increased. Marty sprang back, frightened, and looked around his office as if there might be someone there to help. Nick started to crouch down, wailing, his head swaying. Marty wanted to run out of there. This guy was seriously strange.
Nick continued to shake for a few more seconds, more and more violently. His eyes closed and he squeezed his fists hard against his temples until, after a minute, the shaking subsided and his body went still. Marty walked over and sat next to him on the floor. He felt for his pulse. It was still high and erratic. ‘What just happened?’
The patient opened his eyes and stared at Marty. His stare was cold and intense. ‘He tries to stop me, Doctor. He tries all the time. I know what he wants. He wants me to leave the girls alone.’
‘What are you talking about, Nick? What girls?’
He turned his head sideways and his eyes rested on Marty’s. ‘They used to call it demonic possession, Doctor.’
Marty got up from the floor and moved back. ‘You seem all right now, Nick. Speak to me. You went into a fit. Are you okay? Is this how the DID comes on? Should I call emergency?’
He smiled. ‘ My name is Legion, for we are many. Isn’t that how the old book goes?’
‘Yeah, I’m sure it is. Listen, I’d like to be able to help you, Nick, but I’m not sure I can. You got to explain to me what just happened.’ Marty Fox was at his desk. He wanted to be close to the phone in case anything else erupted. He imagined living with this man, this poor broken specimen, torn apart by his own demons. He imagined what the man’s wife must be going through. He suddenly thought of his own wife and felt a pang of guilt.
‘Can I have another drink of water?’
Fox moved across to the water cooler. ‘Sure, sure. So what just happened? Can you go through it?’
Suddenly, Nick pulled his legs close together and rested his forehead on his knees. ‘I don’t know if I can tell you.’
Marty Fox handed him a glass of ice-cold mineral water. Nick sipped slowly and stared up at him.
‘Sure you can tell me, why not? Come on, Nick, that was some weird shit.’
‘I think I hurt people,’ he said.
Marty sat down, feeling the power of his patient’s gaze. ‘How do you know?’
‘I was trying to explain it to you in the last session. It’s not my fault, I can’t control it. I wake up sometimes and I find blood on my hands. I can’t say any more.’
‘I won’t tell anyone else, you know. Physician-patient privilege, Nick. I can’t tell anyone. We’ve got a confidentiality and liability clause.’ Marty was trying to figure out if Nick was just deluded or whether something serious had happened. It was difficult to tell.
‘I’m afraid, you know that? I’m afraid of what I’m going to do. I’m afraid of what I’ve done.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘That girl I told you about. You remember her?’
‘Yes, I do.’
There was an awkward silence. Nick started to push his cuticles back. ‘The girl in the dell,’ he said, ‘the one I loved, Chloe.’
‘Yes?’
‘Her name was Chloe Mestella. She was found dead.’
‘Dead?’
‘Yes. A week after I saw her in the dell.’
‘What was it? Automobile accident?’
‘No, Marty, she was cut to pieces in her own bed.’
Marty’s face went pale.
‘Someone got into her house after dark and raped her and killed her.’
Marty was trying to work out what was going on. His arm twitched. He put it on his desk to steady himself.
‘Her heart was missing. It was a gruesome thing to happen to a young girl.’
‘I don’t know the case-’
‘When someone dies, Doctor,’ Nick went on, putting his arms tight around his own waist, ‘you truly miss them. You truly miss them. It’s like nothing else, the way you miss them.’
‘It’s okay. You’re safe here,’ said Marty. The beeper on his desk went off and Nick looked up automatically.
‘I want to know if you can stop it,’ said Nick. ‘Is it possible?’
‘What?’
‘That I killed her? That I killed Chloe?’
‘No, Nick, that’s just the guilt. You feel responsible. It doesn’t mean you did it.’
‘I can’t take much more.’
‘I can’t stop the delusions, Nick, but maybe I can help to find their source. We have to find out what you’re feeling so guilty about.’
‘I think he’s after someone else,’ Nick said. ‘I want to stop him before he hurts her.’
‘Who is he? What’s he after?’
‘I don’t know. But on my phone there’re photographs. Lots of photographs. She’s blonde. I don’t know who she is.’ Nick pulled out his phone and pressed a couple of buttons. He held up a picture of a beautiful, rich-looking girl outside a shop.
‘It doesn’t mean anything,’ said Marty. ‘It’s just a photograph. ’
‘Why did he take it?’
‘I don’t know, Nick. I don’t know.’
Nick stood up. ‘I’ll tell you why. I’ll damn well tell you why. She looks like Chloe, that’s why. She’s looks the spitting image of Chloe.’