Tell Me Your Dreams

The moment the ruling was made public, the media went crazy. Overnight, David was a hero. He had taken an impossible case and won it. He called Sandra. "Honey, I – "

"I know, darling. I know. I just saw it on television. Isn’t it wonderful? I’m so proud of you."

"I can’t tell you how glad I am that it’s over. I’ll be coming back tonight. I can’t wait to see – "

"David…?"

"Yes?"

"David… oooh…"

"Yes? What’s wrong, honey?"

"… Oooh… We’re having a baby…."

"Wait for me!" David shouted.

Jeffrey Singer weighed eight pounds, ten ounces, and was the most beautiful baby David had ever seen.

"He looks just like you, David," Sandra said.

"He does, doesn’t he?" David beamed.

"I’m glad everything turned out so well," Sandra said.

David sighed. "There were times when I wasn’t so sure".

"I never doubted you."

David bugged Sandra and said, "I’ll be back, honey. I have to clean out my things at the office."

When David arrived at the offices of Kincaid, Turner, Rose & Ripley, he was greeted warmly.

"Congratulations, David…"

"Good job…"

"You really showed them…."

David walked into his office. Holly was gone. David started cleaning out his desk.

"David – "

David turned around. It was Joseph Kincaid.

Kincaid walked up to him and said, "What are you doing?"

"I’m cleaning out my office. I was fired."

Kincaid smiled. "Fired? Of course not No, no, no. There was some kind of a misunderstanding." He beamed. "We’re making you a partner, my boy. In fact, I’ve set up a press conference for you here this afternoon at three o’clock."

David looked at him. "Really?"

Kincaid nodded. "Absolutely."

David said, "You’d better cancel it. I’ve decided to go back into criminal law. I’ve been offered a partnership by Jesse Quiller. At least when you’re dealing with that part of the law, you know who the criminals really are. So, Joey, baby, you take your partnership and shove it where the sun don’t shine."

And David walked out of the office.

*   *   *

Jesse Quiller looked around the penthouse and said, "This is great. It really becomes you two."

"Thank you," Sandra said. She heard a sound from the nursery. "I’d better check on Jeffrey." She hurried off to the next room.

Jesse Quiller walked over to admire a beautiful sterling silver picture frame with Jeffrey’s first photograph already in it. "This is lovely. Where did it come from?"

"Judge Williams sent it"

Jesse said, "I’m glad to have you back, partner."

"I’m glad to be back, Jesse."

"You’ll probably want a little time to relax now. Rest up a little…."

"Yes. We thought we’d take Jeffrey and drive up Oregon to visit Sandra’s parents and – "

"By the way, an interesting case came into the of this morning, David. This woman is accused of murdering her two children. I have a feeling she’s innocent. Unfortunately, I’m going to Washington on another case, but I thought that you might just talk to her and see what you think…."

Chapter Twenty-Two

THE COnnecticut Psychiatric Hospital, fifteen miles north of Westport, was originally the estate of Wim Booker, a wealthy Dutchman, who built the house in 1910. The forty lush acres contained a large manor house, a workshop, stable and swimming pool. The state had bought the property in 1925 and had refitted the manor house to accommodate a hundred patients. A tall chain-link fence had been erected around the property, with a manned guard post at the entrance. Metal bars had been placed on all the windows, and one section of the house had been fortified as a security area to hold dangerous inmates.

In the office of Dr. Otto Lewison, head of the psychiatric clinic, a meeting was taking place. Dr. Gilbert Keller and Dr. Craig Poster were discussing a new patient who was about to arrive.

Gilbert Keller was a man in his forties, medium height, blond hair and intense gray eyes. He was a renowned expert on multiple personality disorder.

Otto Lewison, the superintendent of the Connecticut Psychiatric Hospital, was in his seventies, a neat, dapper little man with a full beard and pince-nez glasses.

Dr. Craig Foster had worked with Dr. Keller for years and was writing a book on multiple personality disorder. All were studying Ashley Patterson’s records.

Otto Lewison said, "The lady has been busy. She’s only twenty-eight and she’s murdered five men." He glanced at the paper again. "She also tried to murder her attorney."

"Everyone’s fantasy," Gilbert Keller said dryly.

Otto Lewison said, "We’re going to keep her in security ward A until we can get a full evaluation."

"When is she arriving?" Dr. Keller asked.

The voice of Dr. Lewison’s secretary came over the intercom. "Dr. Lewison, they’re bringing Ashley Patterson in. Would you like to have them bring her into your office?"

"Yes, please." Lewison looked up. "Does that answer your question?"

The trip had been a nightmare. At the end of her trial, Ashley Patterson had been taken back to her cell and held there for three days while arrangements were made to fly her back east.

A prison bus had driven her to the airport in Oakland, where a plane was waiting for her. It was a converted DC-6, part of the huge National Prisoner Transportation System run by the U.S. Marshals Service. There were twenty-four prisoners aboard, all manacled and shackled.