Abby nodded slowly. “When you came home that day, I was in bed. I said I had a stomach thing. You slept in here so you wouldn’t catch it.”
Before Abby could go again, I spoke up. “I just wanted to ask you one other thing, about this dream of yours. Something about it doesn’t make sense.”
“What, Tom?”
“Why—if Caitlin is coming to this house in the dream and in the future—why are you the one who’s here and opening the door for her? I thought you wanted to go.”
“It’s a dream, Tom . . .”
“So it doesn’t mean anything? Or does it?”
Abby turned away.
“I’m going to help her get ready,” she said.
We went to a bland brick and glass office building downtown where Dr. Rosenbaum kept an office for his private practice. He met us in the reception area, and I expected him to have something to say about the night before and Caitlin’s attempted escape. But he didn’t. Maybe it was because she was there, or maybe he was simply in a hurry, but he told us he wanted to talk to Caitlin alone first. We let him lead her behind a closed door into his office, while we sat in uncomfortable chairs filling out the insurance forms the receptionist gave us.
No other patients came or went. There was no TV, no piped-in Muzak, and few magazines. I wished I’d brought a book, anything to distract me. Abby picked up a women’s magazine, something with the promise of diet tips plastered across the front, and started paging through. She turned the pages quickly, snapping them from the right to the left. Things hung in the air between us, heavy as lead. Her dream. The miscarriage. Pastor Chris.
We didn’t talk about them.
My phone rang. Liann.
I took the call out in the hallway.
“I was going to call you last night, as soon as I heard the news,” Liann said. “I wanted to scream when I saw it and come right over. But I figured you were occupied. How does it feel? How is she? Tell me.”
“We’re at the shrink’s office right now.”
“What’s wrong? You sound awful.”
I told her about the night before, about Caitlin coming home and almost immediately running away again.
“Now don’t even worry about that. That’s just a bump in the road. And there are going to be bumps along the way, I promise. That girl’s been through a lot. She’s confused. Very confused. You just have to hang in there.”
“Right.”
“I just wish . . .”
“What?” I waited for an important insight.
“Shit. I wish we could have followed her,” Liann said. “She would have led us right back to that snake who took her. It would have been so easy, like a trail of bread crumbs. The cops are so dumb. They just want to run right out and grab her and bring her back. They don’t even want to stop and think.”
My face flushed a little. “I think they were concerned with her safety and getting her home again.”
“Did she say anything about the guy? Has she offered anything?”
“Pretty much the silent treatment,” I said. “She made me promise not to ask her any questions about where she’d been.”
“You didn’t agree to that, did you?”
“Of course I did.”
“Oh, Tom. You can’t make deals with her. She’s a child, and she has to tell us things.”
Us?
“Who’s the therapist you’re seeing?” Liann asked.
“Rosenbaum.”
Liann made a little humming noise.
“What?” The hallway was empty, and my voice echoed.
“He’s okay. He’s fine, really. He works with the police a lot. He’s very experienced.”
“Isn’t that good?”
“Can I come over and see her later?”
Before I could answer, Abby opened the office door and made an impatient, hurry-the-hell-up gesture at me. I held up my index finger, and she pulled her head back inside.
“I have to go, Liann. Look, I’ll call you. Things with Abby . . . and Caitlin—it’s weird.”
“Of course, of course. Just call me tonight. We have a lot to talk about now.”
“Okay. I will.”
“Tom, this is a major break. We’ll find this guy. This is good.”
“And Caitlin—”
But she was already off the phone.
Rosenbaum came out with Caitlin. He asked us to come into his office and directed Caitlin to a waiting room chair. I hesitated.
“Caitlin will be fine right here. Won’t she?” Rosenbaum said. Caitlin sat down in the chair without looking up at us. “Mary?” He nodded at his receptionist, who nodded back, as though she understood the drill without anything being said. “Shall we?” Rosenbaum said to us.
Abby took a hesitant step forward but kept her eyes on Caitlin.
I felt torn.
I didn’t want to let her out of my sight, fearing a repeat of the night before.
But something else entered my mind, a sudden, darting thought I hadn’t anticipated: Might it be better if we let her go?
Would everyone be happier if Caitlin wasn’t here?