Robert’s eyes intensified when I walked into the room. I hissed under my breath, “I know you can talk. I spoke with your father.” When I looked at him, his eyes glowered; a dark shadow fell over his visage. A man may be able to control all facial features, but the eyes themselves give away the thought. Was he only a boy? Who was this boy?
“Why?” I barely whispered.
He blinked and the catatonic stare returned.
It would be wrong to contact his mother. She couldn’t handle his condition. She couldn’t even visit her only son. So I set my sights on her therapist. He was the only Dr. Jones in this county. He practically screamed privileged over the phone. The secretary asked me to meet her for lunch at a small diner.
She told me she would deny everything. She asked if I was recording our conversation. She explained away her involvement, saying she could really use the money.
“Please, just tell me what you know.”
She explained she hears everything through the paper thin walls of the office. “He convinces lonely beautiful woman to leave their rich husbands for him. He is very persuasive and the women are gullible. Mrs. Moss is no exception. It took much longer for her to leave Patrick, but Robert’s stroke gave her permission, Dr. Jones only too willingly pointed out to her.”
“How many women are there?”
“He is actively treating about a dozen women.”
That’s all she had time to reveal.
My aunt and uncle wanted to know what I was up to everyday. I knew mother had called to check in and they had nothing to tell her. They recommended finding a summer job, another mother clue. When I told them I was volunteering at the hospital, they only to eagerly dropped the work idea and smiled. It was a great answer for my mother’s questions.