My Lost Daughter (30 page)

“Ah,” she said, trying to lighten up both of their moods, “now I know the truth. You only want me for my body.”

“You know that's not true. I was just trying to point out some of your better attributes. You don't see what other people do when you look in the mirror. You don't even think you're attractive.”

Lily smiled. “I'm kidding, okay? You're a smooth operator. You're just flattering me so you can get in my pants. It's working. Want to go to the bedroom and have some fun?”

Chris folded his hands in his lap. “I haven't been fair, Lily. I should have told you why I don't trust mental hospitals.”

“Most people despise mental hospitals, Chris, but I guess they have a place in society.”

“You don't understand,” he said, becoming agitated. “Sherry started acting strange about six months before the accident. I know how it sounds, but she believed everyone was a demon, even the man who did our dry cleaning and the nice lady who worked at the post office. We were both heavily involved in the church back then, but Sherry had taken it upon herself to convert every person in Salt Lake City.”

“That must have been a short list.”

“Not everyone in the state of Utah is Mormon, Lily, contrary to what most people believe. Sherry never thought people were demons before just because they weren't interested in what she had to say about Joseph Smith and the LDS church. I became concerned. Then when she accused Emily's teacher of being a demon, I knew something was seriously wrong with her. Just like you did with Shana, I decided it wasn't physical and took her to a mental hospital. We weren't allowed to make decisions like that without first conferring with the church elders, but I felt it was urgent that Sherry got help. This is probably when my disillusionment with the church began. In reality, they would have told me to take her to a family physician before resorting to a psychiatrist, which is precisely what I should have done.”

“You did what you thought was best,” Lily said, staring at a spot on the wall across from them. “With Shana, I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't leave her there alone, and I couldn't force her into coming home where I could help her. I still feel awful, though. I'm scared I may have permanently destroyed my relationship with my daughter.”

“I understand, Lily,” he said, patting her knee. “I'm sure everything will work out between you and Shana. You went through that awful ordeal with her. How can you break a bond like that?”

“It was a complex situation, Chris. In fact, I have to tell you . . .”

He wasn't listening. He had never talked much about his marriage before the accident, so she knew it was important for him.
She was determined to tell him what she had done, though, even if they had to stay up all night.

“As for me,” Chris continued, “I didn't agree with the church's position on psychiatry. They believed a psychiatrist would try to steal Sherry away from the church. The church was the last thing on my mind. My wife was demonizing the entire community. I was afraid someone would burn our house down.”

Leaving Lily on the sofa, he went over and tossed down the rest of his Jim Beam, then returned and sat down beside her again. “Sorry, but I get upset when I talk about this. That's not true actually because I've never discussed this with anyone before tonight.” He glanced at her and then quickly turned away. “Where was I?”

“You were telling me about taking Sherry to a psychiatrist.”

“Right, well, it was a private hospital like Whitehall and they committed Sherry on the spot. She remained in the hospital for three months and endured fifty electric shock treatments.”

“My God!” Lily exclaimed. “Wouldn't that fry her brain?”

“Not exactly,” he told her, the muscles around his mouth tightening. “Sherry was released the day after her mental health benefits ran out. When I picked her up, she looked like a concentration camp victim. She couldn't have weighed more than eighty pounds. She couldn't think straight. She couldn't do anything around the house. She acted as if she didn't even remember Emily. My daughter was shattered. And then Sherry started screaming all the time for no apparent reason. I didn't find out the truth until the medical examiner told me the results of the autopsy.” His hands closed into fists. “Sherry had terminal cancer, Lily. It had started in her breast and metastasized to her brain. My doctor felt certain she could have been cured if the cancer had been discovered earlier. Of course, that didn't happen. She would have died even if she'd never had the accident, but Emily might still be alive.”

“I'm so sorry,” Lily said, clasping his hand. “It wasn't your fault, Chris. You didn't know she was sick. But didn't the hospital try to rule out something physical before they started giving her shock treatments?”

He placed his hands over his ears. “She was screaming in pain. In my nightmares, I can still hear her screaming. The cancer had spread throughout her body. The worst part is that when she left to go to her mother's with Emily, she wasn't going on a vacation. She blamed me for committing her and wanted a divorce. If the accident with the semi hadn't happened, Sherry could have run into a car full of innocent people. In her condition, she wasn't fit to drive.”

“The hospital didn't keep tabs on her health?”

“No,” he said, outrage shooting from his eyes. “All they did was pump her full of drugs and give her shock treatments.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “My wife hated me when she died. And I'll never know how Emily felt about me or what she went through on that road trip. Now you know why I don't trust psychiatric hospitals.”

Lily's love for him had instantly intensified. He had opened up and shared a terrible tragedy with her, and it had brought them even closer. She reached over and pulled his head onto her shoulder, cradling him like a child. “You didn't know, honey. Under the circumstances, anyone would have done the same thing. Sherry didn't hate you. She was sick. And Emily was a child. You know God never fails to protect His children. When they die, they're snatched straight up to Heaven. Emily's spirit probably left long before the accident.”

Chris began to sob. They weren't tears of sadness but tears of relief. “You're the most amazing woman I've ever known, Lily. You understand things most people can't begin to conceive.”

“I don't know about that,” Lily said. “But I do know how much I love you.”

While he remained on the sofa, Lily tried to get up but the pain in her back was crippling and sharp pains were shooting down her legs, making it hard for her to stand, let alone walk. She staggered to the bathroom, using the walls to keep her upright.

When she reached the medicine cabinet, she popped two Vicodin into her mouth and chewed them. The pills were meant to be swallowed, but she desperately needed the medication. She heard
the coffeepot beeping, took several deep breaths, and headed for the kitchen.

Chris was standing on the balcony. He loved looking out over the ocean. The chairs out there weren't that comfortable, so she took a seat on the sofa and waited for him to come back inside.

A few minutes later, he came in and poured them both a cup of coffee. “You're in pain tonight, aren't you?”

“Just a little,” Lily told him, sorry that he had noticed. “I'm fine.”

“Come to bed and I'll give you a back rub.”

“I think I'll stay here awhile longer.”

He leaned over and swept her up in his arms, carrying her to the bedroom. “It's stress. You have no idea what stress can do to your body.” He put her down on the bed and began undressing her. “I have a perfect cure,” he said, “and you don't have to do anything but lay there.”

When he buried his head between her legs, Lily sighed in pleasure. “You're right,” she said, laughing. “I'm feeling better already.”

MONDAY, JANUARY 18
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA

Shana was in the same position on the floor, her pants wrapped around her ankles. When she opened her eyes, she saw by the clock on the wall that it was almost time for dinner. Since the only thing separating the isolation ward from the great room was the waist-high nursing station, the patients who were beginning to gather for the walk to the cafeteria were able to see her. When she tried to stand, she realized she had injured her leg somehow. The pain was excruciating, but she finally managed to pull up her filthy pajama bottoms.

Limping toward the nursing station, Shana waited with downcast eyes for George to remove his keys and to unlock the door leading to the great room. She possessed an overwhelming urge to take her uninjured leg and kick the burly attendant in the balls. Images of poor Wanda and the shock treatment room flashed in her mind and she decided not to follow through and walked past him.

Dr. Morrow and his band of accomplices had their own private S&M palace, complete with all the necessary tools to torture and drug their victims into submission. The most disturbing element was the fact that they could get away with it by claiming
they were administering medical treatment for the well-being of the patient.

Not long after she and her mother were raped, Shana had undergone training in self-defense. Even so, she knew she was no match for George and Peggy. She asked herself what kinds of skills patients like Wanda possessed, or the dozens of elderly men and women she'd observed sitting around in wheelchairs staring blankly into space. These poor people had no way to defend themselves against the blatant abuse that went on inside Whitehall. And she couldn't discount the various alcohol- or drug-addicted patients who appeared either overmedicated or as if they'd also been administered shock treatments.

Even though her mind was clouded by the injection, Shana suddenly saw beyond her own situation. An attorney could sometimes do more than a police officer or a prosecutor. In the O. J. Simpson case, for example, after the courts had failed to convict him, it was the civil case that had finally given the victims' loved ones a smidgen of justice. Granted, it wasn't a death sentence or life in prison without parole, but it was better than nothing.

Shana had fallen into a snake pit but once she crawled out, she would find a way to put Whitehall out of business. Before she could accomplish anything, she first had to graduate from law school and pass the bar.

 

While the other patients were at dinner, Shana saw a large-boned woman standing at the nursing counter, dressed in an expensive two-piece blue suit with a floral silk scarf tucked in around her neckline. Her hair was dark and loose curls framed her face. Behind her glasses, her shadowed eyes resembled round black buttons with only a small rim of white around them. The pupils were almost totally dilated. Shana shuffled in her direction. “Hi,” she said, her words slurred from the drugs. “What's . . . your name?”

“Dr. Ruth Hopkins,” the woman answered, tilting her head to one side. “I'm about to see a patient so I don't have time to speak to you right now.”

She started to leave when Shana stopped her. “Are you a doctor here?” She studied her face as she attempted to place her. Swaying from side to side, she squeezed the woman's hand to steady herself. “You sure your name is Hopkins? That was dumb. Of course you know your own name. I'm drugged out so just ignore me.”

“Let go of my hand, young lady, or I'll have to call an attendant.”

In addition to her pupils being dilated, something was strange about this woman. Shana felt it in her gut. She refused to let go of her hand and moved closer to her body. Dropping her eyes to the floor, she then let them rise slowly to the woman's face. A moment later, Shana began laughing. She was laughing so hard, tears streamed down her cheeks. It had to be the drugs. She detested Morrow so much that she saw him everywhere she went. “You remind me of my shrink, Dr. Morrow.” Shana placed her hand over her mouth to stifle another burst of laughter. Dr. Hopkins angrily jerked her hand away.

“Hey,” Shana told her. “Maybe you can be my doctor. Morrow is a fucking prick. I'd . . . rather a woman doctor treated me. See, I was raped . . .” She realized what she was saying and quickly shut her mouth. The doctor spun on her heels and took off at a rapid pace.

She saw Alex standing in the same location as always and went over to ask him if he knew anything about Dr. Hopkins. She glanced back at the counter and saw Lee, the only Whitehall employee she felt she might be able to trust. Taking Alex's hand, she led him to a corner of the room. “Is Peggy on duty?” she asked, leaning into Alex to keep from collapsing.

Alex looked out over the room and then turned back to Shana. “I don't see her. I think her shift ends at four. What happened to you? Where have you been?”

“They gave me something . . . some type of injection. And that pig hit me. She actually hit me.” Shana walked over to the fountain and gulped down water, her mouth dry and her throat parched. Whatever medication they'd administered this time was potent, more so than the others, except for the Thorazine they'd given her the first day she was admitted.

She returned to where Alex was standing. “Is Dr. Hopkins a good doctor?”

“There is no Dr. Hopkins.”

“But I just spoke to her. She was standing at the nursing station just a few minutes ago.”

Alex laughed. “That woman is a patient, not a doctor. She was admitted around the same time as you but she just surfaced this afternoon. She's the one who was singing ‘Amazing Grace' in the emergency room. From what I hear, she's a complete wacko. She walks around wearing a ton of phony jewelry and tells everyone she's a billionaire.”

Shana fell back against the wall, massaging her throbbing leg as she waited for the effects of the drug to ease up. When she began to feel more like herself, she turned to Alex. “Peggy hit me today.”