Tell Me Your Dreams by Sidney Sheldon

“Well, when you’re through with Miss Patterson, come back and we’ll talk.”

Not a word about the partnership.

When David got home that evening, the apartment was in darkness.

“Sandra?”

There was no answer. As David started to turn on the lights in the hallway, Sandra suddenly appeared from the kitchen, carrying a cake with lit candles.

“Surprise! We’re having a celebration—” She saw the look on David’s face and stopped. “Is something wrong, darling? Didn’t you get it, David? Did they give it to someone else?”

“No, no,” he said reassuringly. “Everything’s fine.”

Sandra put down the cake and moved closer to him. “Something’s wrong.”

“It’s just that there’s been a…a delay.”

“Wasn’t your meeting with Joseph Kincaid today?”

“Yes. Sit down, honey. We have to talk.”

They sat down on the couch, and David said, “Something unexpected has come up. Steven Patterson came to see me this morning.”

“He did? What about?”

“He wants me to defend his daughter.”

Sandra looked at him in surprise. “But, David…you’re not—”

“I know. I tried to tell him that. But I have practiced criminal law.”

“But you’re not doing that anymore. Did you tell him you’re about to become a partner in your firm?”

“No. He was very insistent that I was the only one who could defend his daughter. It doesn’t make any sense, of course. I tried to suggest someone like Jesse Quiller, but he wouldn’t even listen.”

“Well, he’ll have to get someone else.”

“Of course. I promised to talk to his daughter, and I did.”

Sandra sat back on the couch. “Does Mr. Kincaid know about this?”

“Yes. I told him. He wasn’t thrilled.” He mimicked Kincaid’s voice. “ ’Naturally, we can’t have this firm associated with anything as ugly as this trial is going to be.’”

“What’s Dr. Patterson’s daughter like?”

“In medical terms, she’s a fruitcake.”

“I’m not a doctor,” Sandra said. “What does that mean?”

“It means that she really believes she’s innocent.”

“Isn’t that possible?”

“The sheriff in Cupertino showed me the file on her. Her DNA and fingerprints are all over the murder scenes.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“I’ve called Royce Salem. He’s a psychiatrist that Jesse Quiller’s office uses. I’m going to have him examine Ashley and turn the report over to her father. Dr. Patterson can bring in another psychiatrist if he likes, or turn the report over to whichever attorney is going to handle the case.”

“I see.” Sandra studied her husband’s troubled face. “Did Mr. Kincaid say anything about the partnership, David?”

He shook his head. “No.”

Sandra said brightly, “He will. Tomorrow’s another day.”

Dr. Royce Salem was a tall, thin man with a Sigmund Freud beard.

Maybe that’s just a coincidence, David told himself. Surely he’s not trying to look like Freud.

“Jesse talks about you often,” Dr. Salem said. “He’s very fond of you.”

“I’m fond of him, Dr. Salem.”

“The Patterson case sounds very interesting. Obviously the work of a psychopath. You’re planning an insanity plea?”

“Actually,” David told him, “I’m not handling the case. Before I get an attorney for her, I’d like to get an evaluation of her mental state.” David briefed Dr. Salem on the facts as he knew them. “She claims she’s innocent, but the evidence shows she committed the crimes.”

“Well, let’s have a look at the lady’s psyche, shall we?”

The hypnotherapy session was to take place in the Santa Clara County Jail, in an interrogation room. The furniture in the room consisted of a rectangular wooden table and four wooden chairs.

Ashley, looking pale and drawn, was led into the room by a matron.

“I’ll wait outside,” the matron said, and withdrew.

David said, “Ashley, this is Dr. Salem. Ashley Patterson.”

Dr. Salem said, “Hello, Ashley.”

She stood there, nervously looking from one to the other, without speaking. David had the feeling that she was ready to flee the room.

“Mr. Singer tells me that you have no objection to being hypnotized.”

Silence.

Dr. Salem went on. “Would you let me hypnotize you, Ashley?”

Ashley closed her eyes for a second and nodded. “Yes.”

“Why don’t we get started?”

“Well, I’ll be running along,” David said. “If—”

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