Read Tell Me Your Dreams Online

Authors: Sidney Sheldon

Tell Me Your Dreams (9 page)

David turned to look at him. “She’s in the intensive care unit at San Francisco Memorial Hospital.”

“Meet me there at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”

David had difficulty finding his voice. “I don’t know how to—”

“Remember, I’m not promising anything. And I don’t appreciate being scared out of my wits, young man. Next time, try the telephone.”

David sat there, rigid.

Dr. Patterson looked at him. “What?”

“There’s another problem.”

“Oh, really?”

“I—I don’t have any money. I’m a law student, and I’m working my way through law school.”

Dr. Patterson was staring at him.

David said passionately, “I swear I’ll find a way to pay you back. If it takes all my life, I’ll see that you get paid. I know how expensive you are, and I—”

“I don’t think you do, son.”

“I have no one else to turn to, Dr. Patterson. I—I’m begging you.

There was another silence.

“How many years of law school have you had?”

“None. I’m just starting.”

“But you expect to be able to pay me back?”

“I swear it.”

“Get the hell out.”

When David got home, he was certain he was going to be picked up by the police for kidnapping, threatening bodily harm, God only knew what. But nothing happened. The question in his mind was whether Dr. Patterson was going to show up at the hospital.

When David walked into the intensive care ward the next morning, Dr. Patterson was there, examining David’s mother.

David watched, his heart pounding, his throat dry.

Dr. Patterson turned to one of a group of doctors standing there. “Get her up to the operating room, Al. Stat!”

As they started to slide David’s mother onto a gurney, David said hoarsely, “Is she—?”

“We’ll see.”

Six hours later, David was in the waiting room when Dr. Patterson approached him.

David jumped to his feet. “How is—?” He was afraid to finish the question.

“She’s going to be fine. Your mother’s a strong lady.”

David stood there, filled with an overpowering sense of relief. He breathed a silent prayer.
Thank you, God.

Dr. Patterson was watching him. “I don’t even know your first name.”

“David, sir.”

“Well, David sir, do you know why I decided to do this?”

“No…”

“Two reasons. Your mother’s condition was a challenge for me. I like challenges. The second reason was you.”

“I—I don’t understand.”

“What you did was the kind of thing I might have done myself when I was younger. You showed imagination. Now"—his tone changed—"you said you were going to repay me.”

David’s heart sank. “Yes, sir. One day—”

“How about now?”

David swallowed.
“Now?”

“I’ll make you a deal. Do you know how to drive?”

“Yes, sir…”

“All right. I get tired of driving that big car around. You drive me to work every morning and pick me up at six or seven o’clock every evening for one year. At the end of that time, I’ll consider my fee paid…”

That was the deal. David drove Dr. Patterson to the office and back home every day, and in exchange, Dr. Patterson saved the life of David’s mother.

During that year, David learned to revere Dr. Patterson. Despite the doctor’s occasional outbursts of temper, he was the most selfless man David had ever known. He was heavily involved in charity work and donated his spare time to free clinics. Driving to and from the office or hospital, he and David had long talks.

“What kind of law are you studying, David?”

“Criminal law.”

“Why? So you can help the damn scoundrels get off scotfree?”

“No, sir. There are a lot of honest people caught up in the law who need help. I want to help them.”

When the year was up, Dr. Patterson shook David’s hand and said, “We’re even…”

David had not seen Steven Patterson in years, but he kept coming across his name.

“Dr. Steven Patterson opened a free clinic for babies with AIDS.…”

“Dr. Steven Patterson arrived in Kenya today to open the Patterson Medical Center.…”

“Work on the Patterson Charity Shelter began today…”

He seemed to be everywhere, donating his time and his money to those who needed him.

Sandra’s voice shook David out of his reverie. “David. Are you all right?”

He turned away from the television set. “They’ve just arrested Steven Patterson’s daughter for those serial killings.”

Sandra said, “That’s terrible! I’m so sorry, darling.”

“He gave Mother seven more years of a wonderful life. It’s unfair that anything like that should happen to a man like him. He’s the greatest gentleman I’ve ever known, Sandra. He doesn’t deserve this. How could he have a monster like that for a daughter?” He looked at his watch. “Damn! I’m going to be late.”

“You haven’t had breakfast.”

“I’m too upset to eat.” He glanced toward the television set. “This…and today’s partnership day…”

“You’re going to get it. There’s no question about it.”

“There’s
always
a question about it, honey. Every year, someone who’s supposed to be a shoo-in winds up in the loser’s box.”

She hugged him and said, “They’ll be lucky to have you.”

He leaned over and kissed her. “Thanks, baby. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to. You’ll call me as soon as you get the news, won’t you, David?”

“Of course I will. We’ll go out and celebrate.” And the words reverberated in his mind. Years ago, he had said to someone else,
“We’ll go out and celebrate.”

And he had killed her.

The offices of Kincaid, Turner, Rose & Ripley occupied three floors in the TransAmerica Pyramid in downtown San Francisco. When David Singer walked through the doors, he was greeted with knowing smiles. It seemed to him that there was even a different quality in the “good mornings.” They knew they were addressing a future partner in the firm.

On the way to his small office, David passed the newly decorated office that would belong to one of the chosen partners, and he could not resist looking inside. It was a large, beautiful office with a private washroom, a desk and chairs facing a picture window with a magnificent view of the Bay. He stood there a moment, drinking it in.

When David walked into his office, his secretary, Holly, said, “Good morning, Mr. Singer.” There was a lilt in her voice.

“Good morning, Holly.”

“I have a message for you.”

“Yes?”

“Mr. Kincaid would like to see you in his office at five o’clock.” She broke into a broad smile.

So it was really happening.
“Great!”

She moved closer to David and said, “I think I should also tell you, I had coffee with Dorothy, Mr. Kincaid’s secretary, this morning. She says you’re at the top of the list.”

David grinned. “Thanks, Holly.”

“Would you like some coffee?”

“Love it.”

“Hot and strong, coming up.”

David walked over to his desk. It was heaped with briefs and contracts and files.

Today was the day. Finally.
“Mr. Kincaid would like to see you in his office at five o’clock… You’re at the top of the list.”

He was tempted to telephone Sandra with the news. Something held him back.
I’ll wait until it happens,
he thought.

David spent the next two hours dealing with the material on his desk. At eleven o’clock, Holly came in. “There’s a Dr. Patterson here to see you. He has no app—”

He looked up in surprise. “Dr. Patterson is
here?”

“Yes.”

David rose. “Send him in.”

Steven Patterson came in, and David tried to conceal his reaction. The doctor looked old and tired.

“Hello, David.”

“Dr. Patterson. Please, sit down.” David watched him slowly take a chair. “I saw the news this morning. I—I can’t tell you how very sorry I am.”

Dr. Patterson nodded wearily. “Yes. It’s been quite a blow.” He looked up. “I need your help, David.”

“Of course,” David said eagerly. “Anything I can do.
Anything.”

“I want you to represent Ashley.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in. “I—I can’t do that. I’m not a criminal defense lawyer.”

Dr. Patterson looked him in the eye and said, “Ashley’s not a criminal.”

“I—You don’t understand, Dr. Patterson. I’m a corporate lawyer. I can recommend an excellent—”

“I’ve already had calls from half a dozen top criminal defense lawyers. They all want to represent her.” He leaned forward
in his chair. “But they’re not interested in my daughter, David. This is a high-profile case, and they’re looking for the limelight. They don’t give a damn about her. I do. She’s all I have.”

“I want you to save my mother’s life. She’s all I have.”
David said, “I really want to help you, but—”

“When you got out of law school, you went to work for a criminal law firm.”

David’s heart began to beat faster. “That’s true, but—”

“You were a criminal defense lawyer for several years.”

David nodded. “Yes, but I—I gave it up. That was a long time ago and—”

“Not that long ago, David. And you told me how much you loved it. Why did you quit and go into corporate law?”

David sat there, silent for a moment. “It’s not important.”

Dr. Patterson took out a handwritten letter and handed it to David. David knew what it said, without reading it.

Dear Dr. Patterson,

There are no words that can ever express how much I owe you and how much I appreciate your great generosity. If there’s ever anything at all that I can do for you, all you have to do is ask me, and it shall be done without question.

David stared at the letter without seeing it.

“David, will you talk to Ashley?”

David nodded. “Yes, of course I’ll talk to her, but I—”

Dr. Patterson rose. “Thank you.”

David watched him walk out the door.

“Why did you quit and go into corporate law?”

Because I made a mistake, and an innocent woman I loved is dead. I swore I would never take anyone’s life in my hands again. Ever.

I can’t defend Ashley Patterson.

David pressed down the intercom button. “Holly, would you ask Mr. Kincaid if he can see me now?”

“Yes, sir.”

Thirty minutes later, David was walking into the elaborate offices of Joseph Kincaid. Kincaid was in his sixties, a gray monochrome of a man, physically, mentally and emotionally.

“Well,” he said as David walked in the door, “you’re an anxious young fellow, aren’t you? Our meeting wasn’t supposed to be until five o’clock.”

David approached the desk. “I know. I came here to discuss something else, Joseph.”

Years ago, David had made the mistake of calling him Joe, and the old man had had a fit.
“Don’t you ever call me Joe.”

“Sit down, David.”

David took a seat.

“Cigar? They’re from Cuba.”

“No, thanks.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“Dr. Steven Patterson was just in to see me.”

Kincaid said, “He was on the news this morning. Damned shame. What did he want with you?”

“He asked me to defend his daughter.”

Kincaid looked at David, surprised. “You’re not a criminal defense lawyer.”

“I told him that.”

“Well, then.” Kincaid was thoughtful for a moment. “You know, I’d like to get Dr. Patterson as a client. He’s very influential. He could bring a lot of business to this firm. He has connections with several medical organizations that—”

“There’s more.”

Kincaid looked at David, quizzically. “Oh?”

“I promised him I’d talk to his daughter.”

“I see. Well, I suppose there’s no harm in that. Talk to her, and then we’ll find a good defense attorney to represent her.”

“That’s my plan.”

“Good. We’ll be building up some points with him. You go ahead.” He smiled. “I’ll see you at five o’clock.”

“Right. Thank you, Joseph.”

As David walked back to his office, he wondered to himself,
Why in the world would Dr. Patterson insist on having me represent his daughter?

Chapter Twelve

A
T
the Santa Clara County Jail, Ashley Patterson sat in her cell, too traumatized to try to make sense of how she got there. She was fiercely glad that she was in jail because the bars would keep out whoever was doing this to her. She wrapped the cell around herself like a blanket, trying to ward off the awful, inexplicable things that were happening to her. Her whole life had become a screaming nightmare. Ashley thought of all the mysterious events that had been happening: Someone breaking into her apartment and playing tricks on her…the trip to Chicago…the writing on her mirror…and now the police accusing her of unspeakable things she knew nothing about. There
was some terrible conspiracy against her, but she had no idea who could be behind it or why.

Early that morning one of the guards had come to Ashley’s cell. “Visitor.”

The guard had led Ashley to the visitors’ room, where her father was waiting for her.

He stood there, looking at her, his eyes grief stricken. “Honey…I don’t know what to say.”

Ashley whispered, “I didn’t do any of the terrible things they said I did.”

“I know you didn’t. Someone’s made an awful mistake, but we’re going to straighten everything out.”

Ashley looked at her father and wondered how she could have ever thought he was the guilty one.

“…don’t you worry,” he was saying. “Everything’s going to be fine. I am getting a lawyer for you. David Singer. He’s one of the brightest young men I know. He’ll be coming to see you. I want you to tell him everything.”

Ashley looked at her father and said hopelessly, “Father, I—I don’t know what to tell him. I don’t know what’s happening.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of this, baby. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. No one! Ever! You mean too much to me. You’re all I have, honey.”

“And you’re all I have,” Ashley whispered.

Ashley’s father stayed for another hour. When he left, Ashley’s world narrowed down to the small cell she was confined in. She lay on her cot, forcing herself not to think about anything.
This will be over soon, and I’ll find that this is only a dream… Only a dream…Only a dream…
She slept.

The voice of a guard awakened her. “You have a visitor.”

She was taken to the visitors’ room, and Shane Miller was there, waiting.

He rose as Ashley entered. “Ashley…”

Her heart began to pound. “Oh, Shane!” She had never been so glad to see anyone in her life. Somehow she had known that he would come and free her, that he would arrange for them to let her go.

“Shane, I’m so glad to see you!”

“I’m glad to see you,” Shane said awkwardly. He looked around the drab visitors’ room. “Although I must say, not under these circumstances. When I heard the news, I—I couldn’t believe it. What happened? What made you do it, Ashley?”

The color slowly drained from her face. “What made me—? Do you think that I—?”

“Never mind,” Shane said quickly. “Don’t say any more. You shouldn’t talk to anyone but your attorney.”

Ashley stood there, staring at him. He believed she was guilty. “Why did you come here?”

“Well, I—I hate to do this now, but under—under the circumstances, I—the company—is terminating you. I mean…naturally, we can’t afford to be connected with anything like this. It’s bad enough that the newspapers have already mentioned that you work for Global. You understand, don’t you? There’s nothing personal in this.”

Driving down to San Jose, David Singer decided what he was going to say to Ashley Patterson. He would find out what he could from her and then turn the information over to Jesse
Quiller, one of the best criminal defense lawyers in the country. If anyone could help Ashley, it was Jesse.

David was ushered into the office of Sheriff Dowling. He handed the sheriff his card. “I’m an attorney. I’m here to see Ashley Patterson and—”

“She’s expecting you.”

David looked at him in surprise. “She is?”

“Yeah.” Sheriff Dowling turned to a deputy and nodded.

The deputy said to David, “This way.” He led David into the visitors’ room, and a few minutes later, Ashley was brought in from her cell.

Ashley Patterson was a complete surprise to David. He had met her once years ago, when he was in law school, chauffeuring her father. She had struck David as being an attractive, intelligent young girl. Now, he found himself looking at a beautiful young woman with frightened eyes. She took a seat across from him.

“Hello, Ashley. I’m David Singer.”

“My father told me you would be coming.” Her voice was shaky.

“I just came to ask a few questions.”

She nodded.

“Before I do, I want you to know that anything you tell me is privileged. It will just be between the two of us. But I need to know the truth.” He hesitated. He had not intended to go this far, but he wanted to be able to give Jesse Quiller all the information he could, to persuade him to take the case. “Did you kill those men?”

“No!” Ashley’s voice rang with conviction. “I’m innocent!”

David pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and glanced at it. “Were you acquainted with a Jim Cleary?”

“Yes. We—we were going to be married. I would have had no reason to harm Jim. I loved him.”

David studied Ashley a moment, then looked at the sheet of paper again. “What about Dennis Tibbie?”

“Dennis worked at the company I worked for. I saw him the night he was murdered, but I had nothing to do with that. I was in Chicago.”

David was watching Ashley’s face.

“You have to believe me. I—I had no reason to kill him.”

David said, “All right.” He glanced at the sheet again. “What was your relationship with Jean Claude Parent?”

“The police asked me about him. I had never even heard of him. How could I have killed him when I didn’t even know him?” She looked at David pleadingly. “Don’t you see? They have the wrong person. They’ve arrested the wrong person.” She began to weep. “I haven’t killed anyone.”

“Richard Melton?”

“I don’t know who he is either.”

David waited while Ashley regained control of herself. “What about Deputy Blake?”

Ashley shook her head. “Deputy Blake stayed at my apartment that night to watch over me. Someone had been stalking me and threatening me. I slept in my bedroom, and he slept on the couch in the living room. They—they found his body in the alley.” Her lips were trembling. “Why would I kill him? He was
helping
me!”

David was studying Ashley, puzzled.
Something’s very wrong here,
David thought.
Either she’s telling the truth or she’s one
hell of an actress.
He stood up. “I’ll be back. I want to talk to the sheriff.”

Two minutes later, he was in the sheriff’s office.

“Well, did you talk to her?” Sheriff Dowling asked.

“Yes. I think you’ve gotten yourself in a box, Sheriff.”

“What does that mean, Counselor?”

“It means you might have been too eager to make an arrest. Ashley Patterson doesn’t even know two of the people you’re accusing her of killing.”

A small smile touched Sheriff Dowling’s lips. “She fooled you, too, huh? She sure as hell fooled us.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ll show you, mister.” He opened a file folder on his desk and handed David some papers. “These are copies of coroner’s reports, FBI reports, DNA reports and Interpol reports on the five men who were murdered and castrated. Each victim had had sex with a woman before he was murdered. There were vaginal traces and fingerprints at each of the murder scenes. There were supposed to have been three different women involved. Well, the FBI collated all this evidence, and guess what they came up with? The three women turned out to be Ashley Patterson. Her DNA and fingerprints are positive on every one of the murders.”

David was staring at him in disbelief. “Are—are you sure?”

“Yeah. Unless you want to believe that Interpol, the FBI and five different coroner’s offices are out to frame your client. It’s all there, mister. One of the men she killed was my brother-in-law. Ashley Patterson’s going to be tried for first-degree murder, and she’s going to be convicted. Anything else?”

“Yes.” David took a deep breath. “I’d like to see Ashley Patterson again.”

They brought her back to the visitors’ room. When she walked inside, David asked angrily, “Why did you lie to me?”

“What? I didn’t lie to you. I’m innocent. I—”

“They have enough evidence against you to burn you a dozen times over. I told you I wanted the truth.”

Ashley looked at him for a full minute, and when she spoke, she said in a quiet voice, “I told you the truth. I have nothing more to say.”

Listening to her, David thought,
She really believes what she’s saying. I’m talking to a nut case. What am I going to tell Jesse Quiller?

“Would you talk to a psychiatrist?”

“I don’t—Yes. If you want me to.”

“I’ll arrange it.”

On his way back to San Francisco, David thought,
I kept my end of the bargain. I talked to her. If she really thinks she’s telling the truth, then she’s crazy. I’ll get her to Jesse, who will plead insanity, and that will be the end of it.

His heart went out to Steven Patterson.

At San Francisco Memorial Hospital, Dr. Patterson was receiving the condolences of his fellow doctors.

“It’s a damn shame, Steven. You sure don’t deserve anything like this…”

“It must be a terrible burden for you. If there’s anything I can do…”

“I don’t know what gets into kids these days. Ashley always seemed so normal.…”

And behind each expression of condolence was the thought:
Thank God it’s not my kid.

When David returned to the law firm, he hurried in to see Joseph Kincaid.

Kincaid looked up and said, “Well, it’s after six o’clock, David, but I waited for you. Did you see Dr. Patterson’s daughter?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And did you find an attorney to defend her?”

David hesitated. “Not yet, Joseph. I’m arranging for a psychiatrist to see her. I’ll be going back in the morning to talk to her again.”

Joseph Kincaid looked at David, puzzled. “Oh? Frankly, I’m surprised that you’re getting this involved. Naturally, we can’t have this firm associated with anything as ugly as this trial is going to be.”

“I’m not really involved, Joseph. It’s just that I owe a great deal to her father. I made him a promise.”

“There’s nothing in writing, is there?”

“No.”

“So it’s only a moral obligation?”

David studied him a moment, started to say something, then stopped. “Yes. It’s only a moral obligation.”

“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?”

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