The Syndrome by John Case

Author:John Case
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Thriller
ISBN: 0345433106
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2000-06-01T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

She hated calling people she didn’t know.

It wasn’t a phobia, exactly, but it made her uncomfortable enough that she procrastinated whenever she had to do it. And procrastination almost always backfired. Like this afternoon: if she’d called Shaw earlier, she wouldn’t have to do it now. She wouldn’t have to be doing it at night. And she wouldn’t be calling him at home—which was worse, somehow. Instead, she and Duran had gone to an outlet mall to buy some things they needed (which was basically everything) and here it was, a quarter to eight.

Reluctantly, she lifted the receiver and punched out the numbers, thinking I’ll hang up if he doesn’t answer by the second ring. If he doesn’t answer by the second ring, he’s probably busy, he’s probably—

“Ray Shaw.” The voice was low and sonorous.

She hesitated, then recovered. “Hello?”

“Yes?” He sounded dubious, as if he suspected she was a telemarketer.

So she took a deep breath, and dove in. “Doctor Shaw—this is Adrienne Cope at Slough, Hawley. Bill Fellowes gave me your name.”

“Oh? And how’s Bill?”

“He’s fine! Doing great. Said, ‘When you call Doctor Shaw, say hello.’”

Shaw chuckled. “Well, Bill’s a terrific kid.”

“He is!”

“So!” Shaw boomed, the niceties done. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, actually… I was hoping I could bring someone to see you.”

Silence at the other end.

“It’s a very unusual case,” Adrienne continued, “and—”

“I don’t know if Bill told you,” Shaw interrupted, “but… testifying in court isn’t something I have time for. I did it once, as a favor to an Old Blue—but that’s it. You know what they say: ‘Once a philosopher, twice a pervert.’”

She laughed politely. “I understand completely, and Bill did tell me that the Brewster case was a one-off proposition. But this isn’t one of those.”

“Oh?”

“No. As I said, I was hoping you could see someone—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! You mean—a patient?” He pronounced the word as if she’d promised to produce a platypus.

“Yes.”

Rueful chuckle. “Well, I don’t think I can be of much help, then. Between teaching and research, I don’t really have a lot of time for patients. It’s a terrible thing to say, but—”

“I’m not asking you to take on a new patient, Doctor—I was just hoping we could get a sort of… ‘preliminary evaluation.’ It’s a very unusual case.”

His grunt was skeptical. “How so?”

Careful, she thought. Don’t tell him too much, or the men with the butterfly nets will come through the door. “Well, it’s a little awkward on the phone, but… the man we’re talking about is completely delusional.”

“Is he functioning?”

“Yes.”

“How highly?”

“He thinks he’s a therapist.”

“Really!” Shaw’s bemusement was as palpable as his earlier skepticism.

“Yes. And that wouldn’t be so bad, except: he treats people.”

“Oh.” Shaw’s tone went from sharp to flat in the space of a second. “Bring him in on Thursday,” he told her. “I can see him at ten.” Then he gave her the address, and she rang off, feeling virtuous.

Joining Duran in the living room, where he was finishing a beer, she told him “I’ve made an appointment for Thursday morning—”

“With who?”

“A neuropsychiatrist.

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