And Lucy did have a history of fractured sleep.
So maybe it all boiled down to a physiological quirk.
But what of her newly expressed belief that someone had stolen her underwear?
The hang-up calls . . . delusional thinking?
Embrey had found no psychosis or major personality disorder, and neither had I.
Both of us wanting to believe the best?
Even Milo had put aside his cop cynicism and gotten more involved with her than anyone he’d met on the job before.
I remembered his guilt as he aired his doubts about her credibility.
My quick response that she was needy, rather than manipulative.
I thought about the way she’d just gotten me to promise not to collude in locking her up.
My gut was telling me she was sincere, but was that worth as much as I wanted to believe?
Should I have tried to convince her to stick with Embrey?
Maybe Embrey could handle that on her own.
“Who knows, maybe I don’t even need a therapist.”
Had I let that go by too easily?
Should haves, could haves. . . .
Tomorrow night she’d sleep in her own bed.
I hoped I hadn’t made a terrible call.
I hoped freedom wouldn’t kill her.
Milo phoned the next day, just after noon, and I recounted my visit to Woodbridge and Lucy’s feelings about Wendy Embrey.
“What’s Embrey like?”
“Personable, bright, motivated.”
“But she ain’t you.”
“I’m not sure Lucy’ll want me either. Last night she made noises about dropping out of therapy completely. A moment later, she’s telling me she’s scared someone’s out to get her.”
I told him about the underwear.
“All of a sudden, she remembers this?”
“She passed it off as absentmindedness, same way she dismissed the phone calls as technical problems. Like I said, she’s not one to play victim. Has a hard time being dependent. She talks about her brother, Peter, as being her sole protector, but he’s not exactly coming through. Out of town on urgent business, even though he hasn’t worked for years. And he took the time to phone Ken and Embrey but not Lucy.”
“Avoiding her?”
“Looks like it. Lucy insists they’re close, but he’s an odd one. I met him once when he came with her to a session. Refused to come in and sat in the car the whole time. Kind of withdrawn.”
“Withdrawn as in schizo?”
“It was only a brief encounter and I didn’t pick up anything bizarre—more like intensely shy. He was protective enough to shield her from meeting Ken right away, but when I asked Lucy what he did for a living she got very defensive and started making excuses for his being unemployed. As if she’s used to protecting him. Now that she’s in crisis, his failing to come through for her could be traumatic. Another abandonment’s the last thing she needs.”
“Should I visit her?”
“Embrey suggested you take a low profile for now, and I agree.”
“Meaning?”
“You don’t volunteer, but if she approaches you, don’t turn her away.”
“When’s she getting out?”
“Tomorrow.”
“All right, you’re the doctors. . . . Anyway, what I was calling about is I talked to Malibu Sheriffs and they faxed me—if you’re still interested in the dream.”
“One way or the other, it’s relevant to Lucy’s mental state.”
“Well, nothing juicy. No homicides or attempted homicides of females in the entire beach area from June to November of that year. And of the eight rapes they’ve got, seven were up in Oxnard, no victim matches to the long-haired girl. Two of them were probable domestics—middle-aged women—two were little kids, and the other three were Mexican bar scenes with hookers, all charges dropped. The eighth one was Malibu, but nowhere near Topanga. Ranch up in Decker Canyon, some cowboys getting drunk and assaulting a lady horse groom.”
“Did the lady have long hair?”
“The lady was fifty-five, two hundred pounds and gray-haired. No Topanga missing females, either, during that time span. They did send me paper on four missing persons cases in the area that never got closed, but once again they were all north, Oxnard and Malibu. Given the flavor of the times—flower children hitchhiking—four doesn’t seem like a lot.”