The Night, The Day (24 page)

chapter 46

A
shok Reddy was roused by
the sound of his beeper. The meeting came to a halt as he pulled it from his belt and read the message: Urgent, call Marty Rosen, 363-3640, ASAP.

In truth, he was relieved. He hated these departmental meetings. It was always the same agenda: tightening the budget, filling beds, losing positions. A futile battle to show some stability in a system where it was inevitable for hospitals to lose money. It simply had to be that way, so long as health care was controlled by Wall Street’s profit-driven insurance industry, and there was nothing Reddy, nor a thousand departmental meetings, could do about it.

He looked at the others in the room. The hospital’s chief administrator and his colleagues from other departments all wore their jealousy as he gathered his things together. “I’m sorry, folks. Seems I have a clinical emergency to attend to.”

The meeting continued as if he were already gone. He stood up, his files in hand, and slipped out the door.

Martin Rosen answered his cellular on the first ring. “Ashok?”

“You pulled me out of a meeting.”

“Then you owe me.”

Reddy chuckled. “Is everything all right?”

“Not really. I need to see you.”

Reddy looked at his watch. He knew that if Martin was calling him like this, it was important. “When can you be here?”

“I’m on the Expressway, just past the Douglaston exit. I’d say ten minutes.”

“I’ll see you then.”

“Thanks.”

Too wound up to sit still, Martin paced as he spoke, noticing Reddy’s skepticism grow with every word.

“You mean to tell me you believe there’s a connection between Cheryl and this patient you have been talking about?” Reddy asked.

“I know it sounds crazy.”

“Paranoid is more the word that comes to mind.”

Martin nodded. He couldn’t completely deny the point. “But there are just too many coincidences.”

“I will grant you that. You do seem to have an interesting life.”

Martin stood still, leaned over the desk, and looked at his friend. “I want you to hypnotize me, like you offered. I’m certain I saw something in her apartment that night. I saw it when I first got there and must have buried it in my unconscious. Then, whatever it was must have come out in my dream. And as I was leaving, it hit me again, still buried but closer to the surface.”

Reddy looked askance at him.

“You know that such things can happen!” Martin said.

“In movies, mostly.”

“Ashok!”

“You really think that whatever you saw will solve this mystery for you?”

“I can’t know that until we find out what it was.”

Reddy pondered a moment. “Okay, I will do it. I might even learn your deepest, darkest secrets.”

“You already know them,” Martin uttered.

Martin sat comfortably in the chair, awaiting his instructions. A skilled hypnotist in his own right, he knew that erasing his own preconceptions from his mind was the key to his success as a subject. At least, as much as he was able.

“Now, I want you to take deep but gentle breaths, inhaling all the way down into your diaphragm,” Reddy said in a slow, measured tone.

Martin complied.

“And as you do, I want you to focus on relaxing your body and your mind. Let each breath be as a wave of energy flowing through you, and every time you exhale, you will feel yourself releasing that energy and sinking ever so slightly into the chair.”

Reddy waited a beat to assess Martin’s reaction.

“Now, Marty,” he continued, “I want you to look up at the ceiling, and I want you to pick a spot on the ceiling and stare at it.”

Martin raised his eyes and searched for a spot.

Reddy waited until he saw Martin’s eyes fixed. “Good,” he said. “Now, keep focusing on your breathing and on the spot you have chosen, and just try to relax. You don’t have to think about anything. You don’t even have to concentrate on what I say.
Nothing
should interfere with your breathing and staring. And remember, each time you exhale, you will feel yourself sinking
deeper
and
deeper
.”

Reddy waited again, allowing Martin time to get into it.

“All right, Marty, there is one more thing I want you to do. Continue focusing on your breathing. Continue staring at the spot. And as you exhale, as you feel yourself sinking even
deeper
and
deeper
into the chair, I want you to count backwards from 100, so that each time you exhale, you go down one more number, taking yourself
deeper
and
deeper
, bringing yourself closer to zero.

“Now, remember, there are only three things you must do. Breathe deep but gentle breaths, stare at the spot, and count backwards each time you exhale. And as you do this, you will feel yourself sinking even
deeper
and
deeper
into the chair, into a state in which you will be perfectly responsive to my suggestions…”

Reddy reiterated his instructions a few more times until he saw that Martin was out. He then induced a state of analgesia in Martin’s right hand by having Martin imagine the hand sitting in a bucket of ice for a few minutes. He opened his desk drawer, removed a safety pin, unlatched it as he walked over to Martin, and gently poked the hand. When he saw no response, he poked a bit harder, and still Martin remained impervious. Just to make sure, he then pinched Martin’s hand tightly. Observing not even a flinch on Martin’s face, Reddy was convinced his subject was ready.

“Marty, I want you to take yourself back to that first night you were in Cheryl’s home. I want you to use your mind as if it were a camera. Picture everything just as it was. From the moment you enter, the color of the walls, the type of floor, the details of the furnishings and pictures. Focus the lens of your camera so that everything is crystal clear. Can you see it?”

“Yes,” Martin answered.

“Good. Tell me where you are.”

“In the foyer.”

Reddy noted that Martin’s words flowed slowly and deliberately, just as they should. “Describe it to me.”

“It’s a small hallway. Wood floor, a bit beat-up. The walls are linen, or dark white. No pictures, just a welcome mat and a closet.” Martin stopped for a second. “A full-length mirror on the outside of the closet door.”

“Good, Marty, you are doing well. Now, where did you go next?”

“Living room.”

“Describe it.”

“The floor is still wood, covered by an area rug. It’s checkered, black and… it looks black and brown.”

“Go on.”

“Ordinary furniture, a couch and a love seat. They’re beige, like the walls. And a coffee table, a darker wood, like redwood. Doesn’t look like real wood. Same for the end tables.” Martin stopped for a moment as if he were looking around in his mind. “There’s art. Posters. Famous artists. I’ve seen them before.”

“Is there anything unusual about them?”

“No.” He hesitated. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay, is there anything else?”

“Yes, there’s a… bookcase,” Martin answered, his voice growing tremulous.

“What about the bookcase?”

Martin hesitated. “Strange.”

“Strange in what way?”

“Also fake wood. Resembles walnut. Build-it-yourself sort of stuff.”

“Is that what bothers you?”

“No,” Martin responded tentatively.

“Then what?”

“Books.”

“What about the books, Marty?” Reddy noted the strain in his own voice, admonishing himself to remain calm.

“There are some hardcovers. Mostly paperbacks. Just there.”

“What do you mean by
just there
?”

“No sense.”

“No sense?”

“They make no sense.”

“The books make no sense?”

“No particular themes or interest. Just there.”

“As if someone just found a bunch of books and put them together?”

“Yes,” Martin said. He stopped again for a moment. “Something else.”

“There’s something else that bothers you?”

“The books.”

“What else about the books bothers you?”

Martin’s hands began to tremor. “The paperbacks… not read.”

“The paperbacks weren’t read?”

“None.”

“How do you know?”

“No creases on the spines. Brand-new. They make no sense. Aren’t read.”

Reddy considered what he was hearing and was concerned that Martin’s agitation might compromise the trance.

“Not real,” Martin said.

“What’s not real?”

Martin hesitated, then said, “Nothing.” His lips quivered as the word came out.

“Was there anything else, Marty?”

“No.” His voice returned to normal.

“What about in the bedroom?”

“Bedroom. Dream.”

“Do you remember the dream?”

“Cheryl.”

“Cheryl’s in the dream?”

“Shopping cart.”

“What else?”

“Cheryl. Shopping cart. Bookstore.”

“What is Cheryl doing with the shopping cart in the book store?”

“Throwing books in it?”

“Any type of books?”

“All types. No sense.”

“Was there more in the dream?”

“Katherine.”

“Katherine?”

“Katherine is in… bookstore with shopping cart.”

“Katherine is in the bookstore with a shopping cart?”

“Katherine,” Martin answered, his voice agitated again.

“Is it Katherine or Cheryl?”

“Cheryl. Katherine.”

“Katherine and Cheryl?”

“Cheryl. Katherine.” Martin’s body was starting to shake. “
Cheryl. Katherine. Cheryl. Katherine…
”

Reddy sensed that they had taken this as far as they could. “Okay, Marty.” He placed his hand on Martin’s. “It’s okay. Just relax. I want you to relax.”

Instantly, Martin obeyed.

“Now, Marty, in a moment I am going to count you out of your trance. First, you will remember everything we said here. Second, you will feel like your normal self. Together, we will be able to discuss this all objectively and find out what it means. Okay?”

“Yes.”

“And one more thing. Your right hand will return to its normal sensation. It will no longer feel anesthetized. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Good, I am going to count forward now, slowly from one to ten. With each number, as I approach ten, I want you to gradually return yourself to a normal state of consciousness. Keep your eyes closed until I reach ten, and
slowly
bring yourself back to my office, back to where we started our journey…”