CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Early on the morning the trial of Ashley Patterson was to begin, David went to see Ashley at the detention center. She was near hysteria.
"I can't go through with this. I can't! Tell them to leave me alone."
"Ashley, it's going to be all right. We're going to face them, and we're going to win."
"You don't know-You don't know what this is like. I feel as though I'm in some kind of hell."
"We're going to get you out of it. This is the first step."
She was trembling. "I'm afraid they're-they're going to do something terrible to me."
"I won't let them," David said firmly. "I want you to believe in me. Just remember, you're not responsible for what happened. You haven't done anything wrong. They're waiting for us."
She took a deep breath. "All right. I'm going to be fine. I'm going to be fine. I'm going to be fine."
Seated in the spectators' section was Dr. Steven Patter-son. He had responded to the barrage of reporters' questions outside the courtroom with one answer: "My daughter is innocent."
Several rows away were Jesse and Emily Quiller, there for moral support.
At the prosecutor's table were Mickey Brennan and two associates, Susan Freeman and Eleanor Tucker.
Sandra and Ashley were seated at the defendant's table, with David between them. The two women had met the previous week.
"David, you can look at Ashley and know she's innocent."
"Sandra, you can look at the evidence she left on her victims and know she killed them. But killing them and being guilty are two different things. Now all I have to do is convince the jury."
Judge Williams entered the courtroom and moved to the bench. The court clerk announced, "All rise. Court is now in session. The Honorable Judge Tessa Williams presiding."
Judge Williams said, "You may be seated. This is the case of The People of the State of California Versus Ashley Patterson. Let's get started." Judge Williams looked at Brennan. "Would the prosecutor like to make an opening statement?"
Mickey Brennan rose. "Yes, Your Honor." He turned to the jury and moved toward them. "Good morning. As you know, ladies and gentlemen, the defendant is on trial, accused of committing three bloody murders. Murderers come in many disguises." He nodded toward Ashley. "Her disguise is that of an innocent, vulnerable young woman. But the state will prove to you beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant willfully and knowingly murdered and mutilated three innocent men.
"She used an alias to commit one of these murders, hoping not to get caught. She knew exactly what she was doing. We're talking calculated, cold-blooded murder. As the trial goes on, I will show you all the strands, one by one, that tie this case to the defendant sitting there. Thank you." He returned to his seat.
Judge Williams looked at David. "Does the defense have an opening statement?"
"Yes, Your Honor." David stood and faced the jury. He took a deep breath. "Ladies and gentlemen, in the course of this trial, I will prove to you that Ashley Patterson is not responsible for what happened. She had no motive for any of the murders, nor any knowledge of them. My client is a victim. She is a victim of MPD- multiple personality disorder, which in the course of this trial will be explained to you."
He glanced at Judge Williams and said firmly, "MPD is an established medical fact. It means that there are other personalities, or alters, that take over their hosts and control their actions. MPD has a long history. Benjamin Rush, a physician and signer of the Declaration of Independence, discussed case histories of MPD in his lectures. Many incidents of MPD were reported through-out the nineteenth century and in this century of people taken over by alters."
Brennan was listening to David, a cynical smile on his face.
"We will prove to you that it was an alter who took command and committed the murders that Ashley Patterson had absolutely no reason to commit None. She had no control over what happened, and therefore is not responsible for what happened. During the course of the trial, I will bring in eminent doctors who will explain in greater detail about MPD. Fortunately, it is curable."
He looked into the faces of the jurors. "Ashley Patterson had no control over what she did, and in the name of justice, we ask that Ashley Patterson not be convicted of crimes for which she is not responsible."
David took his seat.
Judge Williams looked at Brennan. "Is the state ready to proceed?"
Brennan rose. "Yes, Your Honor." He flashed a smile at his associates and moved in front of the jury box. Brennan stood there a moment and deliberately let out a loud burp. The jurors were staring at him, surprised.
Brennan looked at them a moment as though puzzled and then his face cleared. "Oh, I see. You were waiting for me to say 'excuse me.' Well, I didn't say it because I didn't do that. My alter ego, Pete, did it."
David was on his feet, furious. "Objection. Your Honor, this is the most outrageous-"
"Sustained."
But the damage had already been done.
Brennan gave David a patronizing smile and then turned back to the jury. "Well, I guess there hasn't been a defense like this since the Salem witch trials three hundred years ago." He turned to look at Ashley. "I didn't do it. No, sir. The devil made me do it."
David was on his feet again. "Objection. The-"
"Overruled."
David slammed back into his seat.
Brennan stepped closer to the jury box. "I promised you that I was going to prove that the defendant willfully and cold-bloodedly murdered and mutilated three men- Dennis Tibble, Richard Melton and deputy Samuel Blake. Three men! In spite of what the defense says"- he turned and pointed to Ashley again-"there's only one defendant sitting there, and she's the one who committed the murders. What did Mr. Singer call it? Multiple personality disorder? Well, I'm going to bring some prominent doctors here who will tell you, under oath, that there is no such thing! But first, let's hear from some experts who are going to tie the defendant to the crimes."
Brennan turned to Judge Williams. "I would like to call my first witness. Special Agent Vincent Jordan."
A short bald man stood up and moved toward the witness box.
The clerk said, "Please state your full name and spell it for the record."
"Special Agent Vincent Jordan, J-o-r-d-a-n."
Brennan waited until he was sworn in and took a seat.
"You are with the Federal Bureau of Investigation in Washington, D.C.?"
"Yes, sir."
"And what do you do with the FBI, Special Agent Jordan?"
"I'm in charge of the fingerprints section."
"How long have you had that job?"
"Fifteen years."
"Fifteen years. In all that time have you ever come across a duplicate set of fingerprints from different people?"
"No, sir."
"How many sets of fingerprints are currently on file with the FBI?"
"At last count, just over two hundred and fifty million, but we receive over thirty-four thousand fingerprint cards a day."
"And none of them matches any others?"
"No, sir."
"How do you identify a fingerprint?"
"We use seven different fingerprint patterns for identification purposes. Fingerprints are unique. They're formed before birth and last throughout one's life. Barring accidental or intentional mutilation, no two patterns are alike."
"Special Agent Jordan, you were sent the fingerprints found at the scenes of the three victims who the defendant is accused of murdering?"
"Yes, sir. We were."
"And you were also sent the fingerprints of the defendant, Ashley Patterson?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you personally examine those prints?"
"I did."
"And what was your conclusion?"
"That the prints left at the murder scenes and the prints that were taken from Ashley Patterson were identical."
There was a loud buzz in the courtroom.
"Order! Order!"
Brennan waited until the courtroom quieted down. "They were identical? Is there any doubt in your mind, Agent Jordan? Could there be any mistake?"
"No, sir. All the prints were clear and easily identifiable."
"Just to clarify this... we're talking about the fingerprints left at the murder scenes of Dennis Tibble, Richard Melton and deputy Samuel Blake?"
"Yes, sir."
"And the fingerprints of the defendant, Ashley Patterson, were found at all the scenes of the murders?"
"That is correct."
"And what would you say was the margin of error?"
"None."
"Thank you. Agent Jordan." Brennan turned to David Singer. "Your witness."
David sat there a moment, then rose and walked over to the witness box. "Agent Jordan, when you examine fingerprints, do you ever find that some have been deliberately smudged, or damaged in some way, in order for the felon to conceal his crime?"
"Yes, but we're usually able to correct them with high-intensity laser techniques."
"Did you have to do that in the case of Ashley Patterson?"
"No, sir."
"Why was that?"
"Well, like I said... the fingerprints were all clear." David glanced at the jury. "So what you're saying is that the defendant made no attempt to erase or disguise her fingerprints?"
"That is correct."
"Thank you. No further questions." He turned to the jury. "Ashley Patterson made no attempt to conceal her prints because she was innocent and-"
Judge Williams snapped, "That's enough. Counselor! You'll have your chance to plead your case later."
David resumed his seat.
Judge Williams turned to Special Agent Jordan. "You're excused." The FBI agent stepped down.
Brennan said, "I would like to call as my next witness, Stanley Clarke."
A young man with long hair was ushered into the courtroom. He walked toward the witness stand. The courtroom was still as he was sworn in and took his seat.
Brennan said, "What is your occupation, Mr. Clarke?"
"I'm with National Biotech Laboratory work with deoxyribonucleic acid."
"More commonly known to us simple nonscientists as DNA?"
"Yes, sir."
"How long have you worked at National Biotech Laboratory?"
"Seven years."
"And what is your position?"
"I'm a supervisor."
"So, in that seven years, I assume that you've had a lot of experience with testing DNA?"
"Sure. I do it every day."
Brennan glanced at the jury. "I think we're all familiar with the importance of DNA." He pointed to the spectators. "Would you say that perhaps half a dozen people in this courtroom have identical DNA?"
"Hell no, sir. If we took a profile of DNA strands and assigned it a frequency based on collected databases, only one in five hundred billion unrelated Caucasians would have the same DNA profile."
Brennan looked impressed. "One in five hundred billion. Mr. Clarke, how do you obtain DNA from a crime scene?"
"Lots of ways. We find DNA in saliva or semen or vaginal discharge, blood, a strand of hair, teeth, bone marrow..."
"And from any one of those things you can match it to a specific person?"
"That's correct."
"Did you personally compare the DNA evidence in the murders of Dennis Tibble, Richard Melton and Samuel Blake?"
"I did."
"And were you later given several strands of hair from the defendant, Ashley Patterson?"
"I was."
"When you compared the DNA evidence from the various murder scenes with the strands of hair from the defendant, what was your conclusion?"
"They were identical."
This time the reaction from the spectators was even noisier.
Judge Williams slammed down her gavel. "Order! Be quiet, or I'll have the courtroom cleared."
Brennan waited until the room was still. "Mr. Clarke, did you say that the DNA taken from every one of the three murder scenes and the DNA of the accused were identical?" Brennan leaned on the word.
"Yes, sir."
Brennan glanced over at the table where Ashley was sitting, then turned back to the witness. "What about contamination? We're all aware of a famous criminal trial where the DNA evidence was supposedly contaminated. Could the evidence in this case have been mishandled so that it was no longer valid or-?"
"No, sir. The DNA evidence in these murder cases was very carefully handled and sealed."
"So there's no doubt about it. The defendant murdered the three-?"
David was on his feet. "Objection, Your Honor. The prosecutor is leading the witness and-"
"Sustained."
David took his seat.
"Thank you, Mr. Clarke." Brennan turned to David. "Nothing further."
Judge Williams said, "Your witness, Mr. Singer."
"No questions."
The jurors were staring at David. Brennan acted surprised. "No questions?"
Brennan looked at the jurors and said, "I'm amazed that the defense is not questioning the evidence, because it proves beyond a doubt that the defendant murdered and castrated three innocent men and-"
David was on his feet. "Your Honor-"
"Sustained. You're stepping over the boundaries, Mr. Brennan!"
"Sorry, Your Honor. No more questions."
Ashley was looking at David, frightened.
He whispered, "Don't worry. It will be our turn soon."
The afternoon consisted of more witnesses for the prosecution, and their testimony was devastating.
"The building superintendent summoned you to Dennis Tibble's apartment. Detective Light man?"
"Yes."
"Would you tell as what you found there?"
"It was a mess. There was blood all over the place."
"What was the condition of the victim?"
"He had been stabbed to death and castrated."
Brennan glanced at the jury, a look of horror on his face. "Stabbed to death and castrated. Did you find any evidence at the scene of the crime?"
"Oh, yes. The victim had had sex before he died. We found some vaginal discharge and fingerprints."
"Why didn't you arrest someone immediately?"
"The fingerprints we found didn't match any that we had on record. We were waiting for a match on the prints we had."
"But when you finally got Ashley Patterson's fingerprints and her DNA, it all came together?"
"It sure did. It all came together."
Dr. Steven Patterson was at the trial every day. He sat in the spectators' section just behind the defendant's table. Whenever he entered or left the courtroom, he was besieged by reporters.
"Dr. Patterson, how do you think the trial is going?"
"It's going very well."
"What do you think is going to happen?"
"My daughter is going to be found innocent."
Late one afternoon when David and Sandra got back to the hotel, there was a message waiting for them. "Please call Mr. Kong at your bank."
David and Sandra looked at each other. "Is it time for another payment already?" Sandra asked.
"Yes. Time flies when you're having fan," he said dryly. David was thoughtful for a moment. "The trial's going to be over soon, honey. We have enough left in our bank account to give them this month's payment."
Sandra looked at him, worried. "David, if we can't make all the payments... do we lose everything we've put in?"
"We do. But don't worry. Good things happen to good people."
And he thought about Helen Woodman.
* * *
Brian Hill was sitting in the witness box after being sworn in. Mickey Brennan gave him a friendly smile.
"Would you tell us what you do, Mr. Hill?"
"Yes, sir. I'm a guard at the De Young Museum in San Francisco."
"That must be an interesting job."
"It is, if you like art. I'm a frustrated painter."
"How long have you worked there?"
"Four years."
"Do a lot of the same people visit the museum? That is, do people come again and again?"
"Oh, yes. Some people do."
"So I suppose that over a period of time, they would become familiar to you, or at least they would be familiar faces?"
"That's true."
"And I'm told that artists are permitted to come in to copy some of the museum's paintings?"
"Oh, yes. We have a lot of artists."
"Did you ever meet any of them, Mr. Hill?"
"Yes, we-You kind of become friendly after a while."
"Did you ever meet a man named Richard Melton?"
Brian Hill sighed. "Yes. He was very talented."
"So talented, in fact that you asked him to teach you to paint?"
"That's right."
David got to his feet. "Your Honor, this is fascinating, but I don't see what it has to do with the trial. If Mr. Brennan-"
"It's relevant, Your Honor. I'm establishing that Mr. Hill could identify the victim by sight and by name and tell us who the victim associated with."
"Objection overruled. You may go ahead."
"And did he teach you to paint?"
"Yes, he did, when he had time."
"When Mr. Melton was at the museum, did you ever see him with any young ladies?"
"Well, not in the beginning. But then he met somebody he was kind of interested in, and I used to see him with her."
"What was her name?"
"Alette Peters."
Brennan looked puzzled. "Alette Peters? Are you sure you have the right name?"
"Yes, sir. That's the way he introduced her."
"You don't happen to see her in this courtroom right now, do you, Mr. Hill?"
"Yes, sir." He pointed to Ashley. "That's her sitting there."
Brennan said, "But that's not Alette Peters. That's the defendant, Ashley Patterson."
David was on his feet. "Your Honor, we have already said that Alette Peters is a part of this trial. She is one of the alters who controls Ashley Patterson and-"
"You're getting ahead of yourself, Mr. Singer. Mr. Brennan, please continue."
"Now, Mr. Hill, you're sure that the defendant, who's here under the name of Ashley Patterson, was known to Richard Melton as Alette Peters?"
"That's right."
"And there's no doubt that this is the same woman?" Brian Hill hesitated. "Well... Yeah, it's the same woman."
"And you saw her with Richard Melton the day that Melton was murdered?"
"Yes, sir."
"Thank you." Brennan turned to David. "Your witness."
David got up and slowly walked over to the witness box. "Mr. Hill, I would think it's a big responsibility being a guard in a place where so many hundreds of millions of dollars' worth of art was being exhibited."
"Yes, sir. It is."
"And to be a good guard, you have to be on the alert all the time."
"That's right."
"You have to be aware of what's going on all the me."
"You bet."
"Would you say that you're a trained observer, Mr. Hill?"
"Yes, I would."
"I ask that because I noticed when Mr. Brennan asked you if you had any doubts about whether Ashley Patterson was the woman who was with Richard Melton, you hesitated. Weren't you sure?"
There was a momentary pause. "Well, she looks a lot like the same woman, but in a way she seems different."
"In what way, Mr. Hill?"
"Alette Peters was more Italian, and she had an Italian accent... and she seemed younger than the defendant."
"That's exactly right, Mr. Hill. The person you saw in San Francisco was an alter of Ashley Patterson. She was born in Rome, she was eight years younger-"
Brennan was on his feet, furious. "Objection."
David turned to Judge Williams. "Your Honor, was-"
"Will counsel approach the bench, please?" David and Brennan walked over to Judge Williams. "I don't want to have to tell you this again, Mr. Singer. The defense will have its chance when the prosecution rests. Until then, stop pleading your case."
Bernice Jenkins was on the stand.
"Would you tell us your occupation. Miss Jenkins?"
"I'm a waitress."
"And where do you work?"
"The cafe at the De Young Museum."
"What was your relationship with Richard Melton?"
"We were good friends."
"Could you elaborate on that?"
"Well, at one time we had a romantic relationship and then things kind of cooled off. Those things happen."
"I'm sure they do. And then what?"
"Then we became like brother and sister. I mean, I-I told him about all my problems, and he told me about all his problems."
"Did he ever discuss the defendant with you?"
"Well, yeah, but she called herself by a different name."
"And that name was?"
"Alette Peters."
"But he knew her name was really Ashley Patterson?"
"No. He thought her name was Alette Peters."
"You mean she deceived him?"
David sprang to his feet, furious. "Objection."
"Sustained. You will stop leading the witness, Mr. Brennan."
"Sorry, Your Honor." Brennan turned back to the witness box. "He spoke to you about this Alette Peters, but did you ever see the two of them together?"
"Yes, I did. He brought her into the restaurant one day and introduced us."
"And you're speaking of the defendant, Ashley Patterson?"
"Yeah. Only she called herself Alette Peters."
Gary King was on the stand.
Brennan asked, "You were Richard Melton's roommate?"
"Yes."
"Were you also friends? Did you go out with him socially?"
"Sure. We double-dated a lot together."
"Was Mr. Melton interested in any young lady in particular?"
"Yeah."
"Do you know her name?"
"She called herself Alette Peters."
"Do you see her in this courtroom?"
"Yeah. She's sitting over there."
"For the record, you are pointing to the defendant, Ashley Patterson?"
"Right."
"When you came home on the night of the murder, you found Richard Melton's body in the apartment?"
"I sure did."
"What was the condition of the body?"
"Bloody."
"The body had been castrated?"
A shudder. "Yeah. Man, it was awful."
Brennan looked over at the jury for their reaction. It was exactly what he hoped for.
"What did you do next, Mr. King?"
"I called the police."
"Thank you." Brennan turned to David. "Your witness."
David rose and walked over to Gary King.
"Tell us about Richard Melton. What kind of man was he?"
"He was great."
"Was he argumentative? Did he like to get into fights?"
"Richard? No. Just the opposite. He was very quiet, laid back."
"But he liked to be around women who were tough and kind of physical?"
Gary was looking at him strangely. "Not at all. Richard liked nice, quiet women."
"Did he and Alette have a lot of fights? Did she yell at him a lot?"
Gary was puzzled. "You've got it all wrong. They never yelled at each other. They were great together."
"Did you ever see anything that would lead you to believe that Alette Peters would do anything to harm-?"
"Objection. He's leading the witness."
"Sustained."
"No more questions," David said.
When David sat down, he said to Ashley, "Don't worry. They're building up our case for us."
He sounded more confident than he felt.
David and Sandra were having dinner at San Fresco, the restaurant in the Wyndham Hotel, when the maitre d' came up to David and said, "There's an urgent telephone call for you, Mr. Singer."
"Thank you." David said to Sandra, "I'll be right back."
He followed the maitre d' to a telephone. "This is David Singer."
"David-Jesse. Go up to your room and call me back. The goddamn roof is falling in!"

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Early on the morning the trial of Ashley Patterson was to begin, David went to see Ashley at the detention center. She was near hysteria.
"I can't go through with this. I can't! Tell them to leave me alone."
"Ashley, it's going to be all right. We're going to face them, and we're going to win."
"You don't know-You don't know what this is like. I feel as though I'm in some kind of hell."
"We're going to get you out of it. This is the first step."
She was trembling. "I'm afraid they're-they're going to do something terrible to me."
"I won't let them," David said firmly. "I want you to believe in me. Just remember, you're not responsible for what happened. You haven't done anything wrong. They're waiting for us."
She took a deep breath. "All right. I'm going to be fine. I'm going to be fine. I'm going to be fine."
Seated in the spectators' section was Dr. Steven Patter-son. He had responded to the barrage of reporters' questions outside the courtroom with one answer: "My daughter is innocent."
Several rows away were Jesse and Emily Quiller, there for moral support.
At the prosecutor's table were Mickey Brennan and two associates, Susan Freeman and Eleanor Tucker.
Sandra and Ashley were seated at the defendant's table, with David between them. The two women had met the previous week.
"David, you can look at Ashley and know she's innocent."
"Sandra, you can look at the evidence she left on her victims and know she killed them. But killing them and being guilty are two different things. Now all I have to do is convince the jury."
Judge Williams entered the courtroom and moved to the bench. The court clerk announced, "All rise. Court is now in session. The Honorable Judge Tessa Williams presiding."
Judge Williams said, "You may be seated. This is the case of The People of the State of California Versus Ashley Patterson. Let's get started." Judge Williams looked at Brennan. "Would the prosecutor like to make an opening statement?"
Mickey Brennan rose. "Yes, Your Honor." He turned to the jury and moved toward them. "Good morning. As you know, ladies and gentlemen, the defendant is on trial, accused of committing three bloody murders. Murderers come in many disguises." He nodded toward Ashley. "Her disguise is that of an innocent, vulnerable young woman. But the state will prove to you beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant willfully and knowingly murdered and mutilated three innocent men.
"She used an alias to commit one of these murders, hoping not to get caught. She knew exactly what she was doing. We're talking calculated, cold-blooded murder. As the trial goes on, I will show you all the strands, one by one, that tie this case to the defendant sitting there. Thank you." He returned to his seat.
Judge Williams looked at David. "Does the defense have an opening statement?"
"Yes, Your Honor." David stood and faced the jury. He took a deep breath. "Ladies and gentlemen, in the course of this trial, I will prove to you that Ashley Patterson is not responsible for what happened. She had no motive for any of the murders, nor any knowledge of them. My client is a victim. She is a victim of MPD- multiple personality disorder, which in the course of this trial will be explained to you."
He glanced at Judge Williams and said firmly, "MPD is an established medical fact. It means that there are other personalities, or alters, that take over their hosts and control their actions. MPD has a long history. Benjamin Rush, a physician and signer of the Declaration of Independence, discussed case histories of MPD in his lectures. Many incidents of MPD were reported through-out the nineteenth century and in this century of people taken over by alters."
Brennan was listening to David, a cynical smile on his face.
"We will prove to you that it was an alter who took command and committed the murders that Ashley Patterson had absolutely no reason to commit None. She had no control over what happened, and therefore is not responsible for what happened. During the course of the trial, I will bring in eminent doctors who will explain in greater detail about MPD. Fortunately, it is curable."
He looked into the faces of the jurors. "Ashley Patterson had no control over what she did, and in the name of justice, we ask that Ashley Patterson not be convicted of crimes for which she is not responsible."
David took his seat.
Judge Williams looked at Brennan. "Is the state ready to proceed?"
Brennan rose. "Yes, Your Honor." He flashed a smile at his associates and moved in front of the jury box. Brennan stood there a moment and deliberately let out a loud burp. The jurors were staring at him, surprised.
Brennan looked at them a moment as though puzzled and then his face cleared. "Oh, I see. You were waiting for me to say 'excuse me.' Well, I didn't say it because I didn't do that. My alter ego, Pete, did it."
David was on his feet, furious. "Objection. Your Honor, this is the most outrageous-"
"Sustained."
But the damage had already been done.
Brennan gave David a patronizing smile and then turned back to the jury. "Well, I guess there hasn't been a defense like this since the Salem witch trials three hundred years ago." He turned to look at Ashley. "I didn't do it. No, sir. The devil made me do it."
David was on his feet again. "Objection. The-"
"Overruled."
David slammed back into his seat.
Brennan stepped closer to the jury box. "I promised you that I was going to prove that the defendant willfully and cold-bloodedly murdered and mutilated three men- Dennis Tibble, Richard Melton and deputy Samuel Blake. Three men! In spite of what the defense says"- he turned and pointed to Ashley again-"there's only one defendant sitting there, and she's the one who committed the murders. What did Mr. Singer call it? Multiple personality disorder? Well, I'm going to bring some prominent doctors here who will tell you, under oath, that there is no such thing! But first, let's hear from some experts who are going to tie the defendant to the crimes."
Brennan turned to Judge Williams. "I would like to call my first witness. Special Agent Vincent Jordan."
A short bald man stood up and moved toward the witness box.
The clerk said, "Please state your full name and spell it for the record."
"Special Agent Vincent Jordan, J-o-r-d-a-n."
Brennan waited until he was sworn in and took a seat.
"You are with the Federal Bureau of Investigation in Washington, D.C.?"
"Yes, sir."
"And what do you do with the FBI, Special Agent Jordan?"
"I'm in charge of the fingerprints section."
"How long have you had that job?"
"Fifteen years."
"Fifteen years. In all that time have you ever come across a duplicate set of fingerprints from different people?"
"No, sir."
"How many sets of fingerprints are currently on file with the FBI?"
"At last count, just over two hundred and fifty million, but we receive over thirty-four thousand fingerprint cards a day."
"And none of them matches any others?"
"No, sir."
"How do you identify a fingerprint?"
"We use seven different fingerprint patterns for identification purposes. Fingerprints are unique. They're formed before birth and last throughout one's life. Barring accidental or intentional mutilation, no two patterns are alike."
"Special Agent Jordan, you were sent the fingerprints found at the scenes of the three victims who the defendant is accused of murdering?"
"Yes, sir. We were."
"And you were also sent the fingerprints of the defendant, Ashley Patterson?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you personally examine those prints?"
"I did."
"And what was your conclusion?"
"That the prints left at the murder scenes and the prints that were taken from Ashley Patterson were identical."
There was a loud buzz in the courtroom.
"Order! Order!"
Brennan waited until the courtroom quieted down. "They were identical? Is there any doubt in your mind, Agent Jordan? Could there be any mistake?"
"No, sir. All the prints were clear and easily identifiable."
"Just to clarify this... we're talking about the fingerprints left at the murder scenes of Dennis Tibble, Richard Melton and deputy Samuel Blake?"
"Yes, sir."
"And the fingerprints of the defendant, Ashley Patterson, were found at all the scenes of the murders?"
"That is correct."
"And what would you say was the margin of error?"
"None."
"Thank you. Agent Jordan." Brennan turned to David Singer. "Your witness."
David sat there a moment, then rose and walked over to the witness box. "Agent Jordan, when you examine fingerprints, do you ever find that some have been deliberately smudged, or damaged in some way, in order for the felon to conceal his crime?"
"Yes, but we're usually able to correct them with high-intensity laser techniques."
"Did you have to do that in the case of Ashley Patterson?"
"No, sir."
"Why was that?"
"Well, like I said... the fingerprints were all clear." David glanced at the jury. "So what you're saying is that the defendant made no attempt to erase or disguise her fingerprints?"
"That is correct."
"Thank you. No further questions." He turned to the jury. "Ashley Patterson made no attempt to conceal her prints because she was innocent and-"
Judge Williams snapped, "That's enough. Counselor! You'll have your chance to plead your case later."
David resumed his seat.
Judge Williams turned to Special Agent Jordan. "You're excused." The FBI agent stepped down.
Brennan said, "I would like to call as my next witness, Stanley Clarke."
A young man with long hair was ushered into the courtroom. He walked toward the witness stand. The courtroom was still as he was sworn in and took his seat.
Brennan said, "What is your occupation, Mr. Clarke?"
"I'm with National Biotech Laboratory work with deoxyribonucleic acid."
"More commonly known to us simple nonscientists as DNA?"
"Yes, sir."
"How long have you worked at National Biotech Laboratory?"
"Seven years."
"And what is your position?"
"I'm a supervisor."
"So, in that seven years, I assume that you've had a lot of experience with testing DNA?"
"Sure. I do it every day."
Brennan glanced at the jury. "I think we're all familiar with the importance of DNA." He pointed to the spectators. "Would you say that perhaps half a dozen people in this courtroom have identical DNA?"
"Hell no, sir. If we took a profile of DNA strands and assigned it a frequency based on collected databases, only one in five hundred billion unrelated Caucasians would have the same DNA profile."
Brennan looked impressed. "One in five hundred billion. Mr. Clarke, how do you obtain DNA from a crime scene?"
"Lots of ways. We find DNA in saliva or semen or vaginal discharge, blood, a strand of hair, teeth, bone marrow..."
"And from any one of those things you can match it to a specific person?"
"That's correct."
"Did you personally compare the DNA evidence in the murders of Dennis Tibble, Richard Melton and Samuel Blake?"
"I did."
"And were you later given several strands of hair from the defendant, Ashley Patterson?"
"I was."
"When you compared the DNA evidence from the various murder scenes with the strands of hair from the defendant, what was your conclusion?"
"They were identical."
This time the reaction from the spectators was even noisier.
Judge Williams slammed down her gavel. "Order! Be quiet, or I'll have the courtroom cleared."
Brennan waited until the room was still. "Mr. Clarke, did you say that the DNA taken from every one of the three murder scenes and the DNA of the accused were identical?" Brennan leaned on the word.
"Yes, sir."
Brennan glanced over at the table where Ashley was sitting, then turned back to the witness. "What about contamination? We're all aware of a famous criminal trial where the DNA evidence was supposedly contaminated. Could the evidence in this case have been mishandled so that it was no longer valid or-?"
"No, sir. The DNA evidence in these murder cases was very carefully handled and sealed."
"So there's no doubt about it. The defendant murdered the three-?"
David was on his feet. "Objection, Your Honor. The prosecutor is leading the witness and-"
"Sustained."
David took his seat.
"Thank you, Mr. Clarke." Brennan turned to David. "Nothing further."
Judge Williams said, "Your witness, Mr. Singer."
"No questions."
The jurors were staring at David. Brennan acted surprised. "No questions?"
Brennan looked at the jurors and said, "I'm amazed that the defense is not questioning the evidence, because it proves beyond a doubt that the defendant murdered and castrated three innocent men and-"
David was on his feet. "Your Honor-"
"Sustained. You're stepping over the boundaries, Mr. Brennan!"
"Sorry, Your Honor. No more questions."
Ashley was looking at David, frightened.
He whispered, "Don't worry. It will be our turn soon."
The afternoon consisted of more witnesses for the prosecution, and their testimony was devastating.
"The building superintendent summoned you to Dennis Tibble's apartment. Detective Light man?"
"Yes."
"Would you tell as what you found there?"
"It was a mess. There was blood all over the place."
"What was the condition of the victim?"
"He had been stabbed to death and castrated."
Brennan glanced at the jury, a look of horror on his face. "Stabbed to death and castrated. Did you find any evidence at the scene of the crime?"
"Oh, yes. The victim had had sex before he died. We found some vaginal discharge and fingerprints."
"Why didn't you arrest someone immediately?"
"The fingerprints we found didn't match any that we had on record. We were waiting for a match on the prints we had."
"But when you finally got Ashley Patterson's fingerprints and her DNA, it all came together?"
"It sure did. It all came together."
Dr. Steven Patterson was at the trial every day. He sat in the spectators' section just behind the defendant's table. Whenever he entered or left the courtroom, he was besieged by reporters.
"Dr. Patterson, how do you think the trial is going?"
"It's going very well."
"What do you think is going to happen?"
"My daughter is going to be found innocent."
Late one afternoon when David and Sandra got back to the hotel, there was a message waiting for them. "Please call Mr. Kong at your bank."
David and Sandra looked at each other. "Is it time for another payment already?" Sandra asked.
"Yes. Time flies when you're having fan," he said dryly. David was thoughtful for a moment. "The trial's going to be over soon, honey. We have enough left in our bank account to give them this month's payment."
Sandra looked at him, worried. "David, if we can't make all the payments... do we lose everything we've put in?"
"We do. But don't worry. Good things happen to good people."
And he thought about Helen Woodman.
* * *
Brian Hill was sitting in the witness box after being sworn in. Mickey Brennan gave him a friendly smile.
"Would you tell us what you do, Mr. Hill?"
"Yes, sir. I'm a guard at the De Young Museum in San Francisco."
"That must be an interesting job."
"It is, if you like art. I'm a frustrated painter."
"How long have you worked there?"
"Four years."
"Do a lot of the same people visit the museum? That is, do people come again and again?"
"Oh, yes. Some people do."
"So I suppose that over a period of time, they would become familiar to you, or at least they would be familiar faces?"
"That's true."
"And I'm told that artists are permitted to come in to copy some of the museum's paintings?"
"Oh, yes. We have a lot of artists."
"Did you ever meet any of them, Mr. Hill?"
"Yes, we-You kind of become friendly after a while."
"Did you ever meet a man named Richard Melton?"
Brian Hill sighed. "Yes. He was very talented."
"So talented, in fact that you asked him to teach you to paint?"
"That's right."
David got to his feet. "Your Honor, this is fascinating, but I don't see what it has to do with the trial. If Mr. Brennan-"
"It's relevant, Your Honor. I'm establishing that Mr. Hill could identify the victim by sight and by name and tell us who the victim associated with."
"Objection overruled. You may go ahead."
"And did he teach you to paint?"
"Yes, he did, when he had time."
"When Mr. Melton was at the museum, did you ever see him with any young ladies?"
"Well, not in the beginning. But then he met somebody he was kind of interested in, and I used to see him with her."
"What was her name?"
"Alette Peters."
Brennan looked puzzled. "Alette Peters? Are you sure you have the right name?"
"Yes, sir. That's the way he introduced her."
"You don't happen to see her in this courtroom right now, do you, Mr. Hill?"
"Yes, sir." He pointed to Ashley. "That's her sitting there."
Brennan said, "But that's not Alette Peters. That's the defendant, Ashley Patterson."
David was on his feet. "Your Honor, we have already said that Alette Peters is a part of this trial. She is one of the alters who controls Ashley Patterson and-"
"You're getting ahead of yourself, Mr. Singer. Mr. Brennan, please continue."
"Now, Mr. Hill, you're sure that the defendant, who's here under the name of Ashley Patterson, was known to Richard Melton as Alette Peters?"
"That's right."
"And there's no doubt that this is the same woman?" Brian Hill hesitated. "Well... Yeah, it's the same woman."
"And you saw her with Richard Melton the day that Melton was murdered?"
"Yes, sir."
"Thank you." Brennan turned to David. "Your witness."
David got up and slowly walked over to the witness box. "Mr. Hill, I would think it's a big responsibility being a guard in a place where so many hundreds of millions of dollars' worth of art was being exhibited."
"Yes, sir. It is."
"And to be a good guard, you have to be on the alert all the time."
"That's right."
"You have to be aware of what's going on all the me."
"You bet."
"Would you say that you're a trained observer, Mr. Hill?"
"Yes, I would."
"I ask that because I noticed when Mr. Brennan asked you if you had any doubts about whether Ashley Patterson was the woman who was with Richard Melton, you hesitated. Weren't you sure?"
There was a momentary pause. "Well, she looks a lot like the same woman, but in a way she seems different."
"In what way, Mr. Hill?"
"Alette Peters was more Italian, and she had an Italian accent... and she seemed younger than the defendant."
"That's exactly right, Mr. Hill. The person you saw in San Francisco was an alter of Ashley Patterson. She was born in Rome, she was eight years younger-"
Brennan was on his feet, furious. "Objection."
David turned to Judge Williams. "Your Honor, was-"
"Will counsel approach the bench, please?" David and Brennan walked over to Judge Williams. "I don't want to have to tell you this again, Mr. Singer. The defense will have its chance when the prosecution rests. Until then, stop pleading your case."
Bernice Jenkins was on the stand.
"Would you tell us your occupation. Miss Jenkins?"
"I'm a waitress."
"And where do you work?"
"The cafe at the De Young Museum."
"What was your relationship with Richard Melton?"
"We were good friends."
"Could you elaborate on that?"
"Well, at one time we had a romantic relationship and then things kind of cooled off. Those things happen."
"I'm sure they do. And then what?"
"Then we became like brother and sister. I mean, I-I told him about all my problems, and he told me about all his problems."
"Did he ever discuss the defendant with you?"
"Well, yeah, but she called herself by a different name."
"And that name was?"
"Alette Peters."
"But he knew her name was really Ashley Patterson?"
"No. He thought her name was Alette Peters."
"You mean she deceived him?"
David sprang to his feet, furious. "Objection."
"Sustained. You will stop leading the witness, Mr. Brennan."
"Sorry, Your Honor." Brennan turned back to the witness box. "He spoke to you about this Alette Peters, but did you ever see the two of them together?"
"Yes, I did. He brought her into the restaurant one day and introduced us."
"And you're speaking of the defendant, Ashley Patterson?"
"Yeah. Only she called herself Alette Peters."
Gary King was on the stand.
Brennan asked, "You were Richard Melton's roommate?"
"Yes."
"Were you also friends? Did you go out with him socially?"
"Sure. We double-dated a lot together."
"Was Mr. Melton interested in any young lady in particular?"
"Yeah."
"Do you know her name?"
"She called herself Alette Peters."
"Do you see her in this courtroom?"
"Yeah. She's sitting over there."
"For the record, you are pointing to the defendant, Ashley Patterson?"
"Right."
"When you came home on the night of the murder, you found Richard Melton's body in the apartment?"
"I sure did."
"What was the condition of the body?"
"Bloody."
"The body had been castrated?"
A shudder. "Yeah. Man, it was awful."
Brennan looked over at the jury for their reaction. It was exactly what he hoped for.
"What did you do next, Mr. King?"
"I called the police."
"Thank you." Brennan turned to David. "Your witness."
David rose and walked over to Gary King.
"Tell us about Richard Melton. What kind of man was he?"
"He was great."
"Was he argumentative? Did he like to get into fights?"
"Richard? No. Just the opposite. He was very quiet, laid back."
"But he liked to be around women who were tough and kind of physical?"
Gary was looking at him strangely. "Not at all. Richard liked nice, quiet women."
"Did he and Alette have a lot of fights? Did she yell at him a lot?"
Gary was puzzled. "You've got it all wrong. They never yelled at each other. They were great together."
"Did you ever see anything that would lead you to believe that Alette Peters would do anything to harm-?"
"Objection. He's leading the witness."
"Sustained."
"No more questions," David said.
When David sat down, he said to Ashley, "Don't worry. They're building up our case for us."
He sounded more confident than he felt.
David and Sandra were having dinner at San Fresco, the restaurant in the Wyndham Hotel, when the maitre d' came up to David and said, "There's an urgent telephone call for you, Mr. Singer."
"Thank you." David said to Sandra, "I'll be right back."
He followed the maitre d' to a telephone. "This is David Singer."
"David-Jesse. Go up to your room and call me back. The goddamn roof is falling in!"

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

JESSE -?"
"David, I know I'm not supposed to interfere, but I think you should ask for a mistrial."
"What's happened?"
"Have you been on the Internet in the past few days?"
"No. I've been a little busy."
"Well, the trial is all over the damned Internet. That's all they're talking about in the chat rooms."
"That figures," David said. "But what's the-?"
"It's all negative, David. They're saying that Ashley is guilty and that she should be executed. And they're saying it in very colorful ways. You can't believe how vicious they are."
David, suddenly realizing, said, "Oh, my God! If any of the jurors are on the Internet-"
"The odds are pretty good that some of them are, and they'll be influenced. I would ask for a mistrial, or at the very least, to have the jurors sequestered."
"Thanks, Jesse. Will do." David replaced the receiver. When he returned to the restaurant where Sandra was waiting, she asked, "Bad?"
"Bad."
Before court convened the following morning, David asked to see Judge Williams. He was ushered into her chambers, along with Mickey Brennan. "You asked to see me?"
"Yes, Your Honor. I learned last night that this trial is the number one subject on the Internet. It's what all the chat rooms are discussing, and they've already convicted the defendant. It's very prejudicial. And since I'm sure that some of the jurors have computers with on-line access, or talk to friends who have on-line access, it could seriously damage the defense. Therefore, I'm making a motion for a mistrial."
She was thoughtful for a moment. "Motion denied."
David sat there, fighting to control himself. "Then I make a motion to immediately sequester the jury so that-"
"Mr. Singer, every day the press is at this courtroom in full force. This trial is the number one topic on television, on radio and in the newspapers all over the world. I waned you that this was going to turn into a circus, and you wouldn't listen." She leaned forward. "Well, it's your circus, if you wanted the jury sequestered, you should have made that motion before the trial. And I probably would not have granted it. Is there anything else?"
David sat there, his stomach churning. "No, Your Honor."
"Then let's get into the courtroom."
Mickey Brennan was questioning Sheriff Dowling.
"Deputy Sam Blake called to tell you that he was going to spend the night at the defendant's apartment in order to protect her? She told him that someone was threatening her life?"
"That is correct."
"When did you hear from deputy Blake again?"
"I-I didn't. I got a call in the morning that his-his body had been found in the alley in back of Miss Patterson's apartment building."
"And of course you went there immediately?"
"Of course."
"And what did you find?"
He swallowed. "Sam's body was wrapped in a bloody sheet. He had been stabbed to death and castrated like the other two victims."
"Like the other two victims. So all those murders were carried out in a similar fashion?"
"Yes, sir."
"As though they were killed by the same person?" David was on his feet. "Objection!"
"Sustained."
"I'll withdraw that. What did you do next. Sheriff?"
"Well, up until that time, Ashley Patterson wasn't a suspect. But after this happened, we took her in and had her fingerprints taken."
"And then?"
"We sent them to the FBI, and we got a positive make on her."
"Would you explain to the jury what you mean by a positive make?"
Sheriff Dowling turned to the jury. "Her fingerprints matched other fingerprints on file that they were trying to identify from the previous murders."
"Thank you. Sheriff." Brennan turned to David. "Your witness."
David got up and walked over to the witness box. "Sheriff, we've heard testimony in this courtroom that a bloody knife was found in Miss Patterson's kitchen."
"That's right."
"How was it hidden? Wrapped up in something? Stashed away where it couldn't be found?"
"No. It was right out in the open."
"Right out in the open. Left there by someone who had nothing to hide. Someone who was innocent because-"
"Objection!"
"Sustained."
"No more questions."
"The witness is dismissed." Brennan said, "If it pleases the court..." He signaled someone at the back of the courtroom, and a man in overalls came in, carrying the mirror from Ashley Patterson's medicine cabinet. On it, in red lipstick, was written YOU WILL DIE.
David rose. "What is this?" Judge Williams turned to Mickey Brennan. "Mr. Brennan?"
"This is the bait the defendant used to get deputy Blake to come to her apartment so she could murder him. I would like this marked as exhibit D. It came from the medicine chest of the defendant."
"Objection, Your Honor. It has no relevance."
"I will prove that there is a relevance."
"We'll see. In the meantime, you may proceed." Brennan placed the mirror in full view of the jury. "This minor was taken from the defendant's bathroom." He looked at the jurors. "As you can see, scrawled across it is 'You Will Die.' This was the defendant's pretext for having deputy Blake come to her apartment that night to protect her." He turned to Judge Williams. "I would like to call my next witness. Miss Laura Niven."
A middle-aged woman walking with a cane approached the witness box and was sworn in.
"Where do you work. Miss Niven?"
"I'm a consultant for the County of San Jose."
"And what do you do?"
"I'm a handwriting expert."
"How long have you worked for the county. Miss Niven?"
"Twenty-two years."
Brennan nodded toward the mirror. "You have been shown this mirror before?"
"Yes."
"And you've examined it?"
"I have."
"And you've been shown an example of the defendant's handwriting?"
"Yes."
"And had a chance to examine that?"
"Yes."
"And you've compared the two?"
"I have."
"And what is your conclusion?"
"They were written by the same person." There was a collective gasp from the courtroom. "So what you're saying is that Ashley Patterson wrote this threat to herself?"
"That is correct."
Mickey Brennan looked over at David. "Your witness."
David hesitated. He glanced at Ashley. She was staring down at the table, shaking her head. "No questions."
Judge Williams was studying David. "No questions, Mr. Singer?"
David rose to his feet. "No. All this testimony is meaningless." He turned to the jury. "The prosecution will have to prove that Ashley Patterson knew the victims and had a motive to-"
Judge Williams said angrily, "I've warned you before. It is not your place to instruct the jury on the law. If-"
"Someone has to," David exploded. "You're letting him get away with-"
"That's enough, Mr. Singer. Approach the bench."
David walked to the bench.
"I'm citing you for contempt of court and sentencing you to a night here in our nice jail the day this trial is over."
"Wait, Your Honor. You can't-" She said grimly, "I've sentenced you to one night. Would you like to try for two?"
David stood there, glaring at her, taking deep breaths. "For the sake of my client, I'll-I'll keep my feelings to myself."
"A wise decision," Judge Williams said curtly. "Court is adjourned." She turned to a bailiff. "When this trial is ended, I want Mr. Singer taken into custody."
"Yes, Your Honor."
Ashley turned to Sandra. "Oh, my God! What's happening?"
Sandra squeezed her arm. "Don't worry. You have to trust David."
Sandra telephoned Jesse Quiller.
"I heard," he said. "It's all over the news, Sandra. I don't blame David for losing his temper. She's been goading him from the beginning. What did David do to get her so down on him?"
"I don't know, Jesse. It's been horrible. You should see the faces of the jurors. They hate Ashley. They can't wait to convict her. Well, it's the defense's turn next. David will change their minds."
"Hold the thought."
"Judge Williams hates me, Sandra, and it's banning Ashley. If I don't do something about this, Ashley is going to die. I can't let that happen."
"What can you do?" Sandra asked. David took a deep breath. "Resign from the case." Both of them knew what that meant. The media would be full of his failure.
"I never should have agreed to take on the trial," David said bitterly. "Dr. Patterson trusted me to save his daughter's life, and I've-" He could not go on.
Sandra put her arms around him and held him close. "Don't worry, darling. Everything's going to turn out fine."
I've let everyone down, David thought. Ashley, Sandra... I'm going to be kicked out of the firm, I won't have a job and the baby is due soon. "Everything's going to turn out fine."
Right.
In the morning, David asked to see Judge Williams in her chambers. Mickey Brenman was there.
Judge Williams said, "You asked to see me, Mr. Singer?"
"Yes, Your Honor. I want to resign from the case." Judge Williams said, "On what grounds?" David spoke carefully. "I don't believe I'm the right lawyer for this trial. I think I'm hurting my client I would like to be replaced."
Judge Williams said quietly, "Mr. Singer, if you think I'm going to let you walk away from this and then have to start this trial all over again and waste even more time and money, you're quite mistaken. The answer is no. Do you understand me?"
David closed his eyes for an instant, forcing himself to stay calm. He looked up and said, "Yes, Your Honor. I understand you." He was trapped.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

More than three months had gone by since the beginning of the trial, and David could not remember when he had last had a full night's sleep.
One afternoon, when they returned from the court-room, Sandra said, "David, I think I should go back to San Francisco."
David looked at her in surprise. "Why? We're right in the middle of-Oh, my God." He put his arms around her. "The baby. Is it coming?"
Sandra smiled. "Anytime now. I'd feel safer if I were back there, closer to Dr. Bailey. Mother said she'd come and stay with me."
"Of course. You have to go back," David said. "I lost track of time. He's due in three weeks, isn't he?"
"Yes." He grimaced. "And I can't be there with you."
Sandra took his hand. "Don't be upset, darling. This trial's going to be over soon."
"This goddamn trial is ruining our lives."
"David, we're going to be fine. My old job's waiting for me. After the baby comes, I can-" David said, "I'm so sorry, Sandra. I wish-"
"David, don't ever be sorry for doing something you believe is right."
"I love you."
"I love you."
He stroked her stomach. "I love you both." He sighed. "All right I'll help you pack. I'll drive you back to San Francisco tonight and-"
"No," Sandra said firmly. "You can't leave here. I'll ask Emily to come and pick me up."
"Ask her if she can join us here for dinner tonight."
"All right."
Emily had been delighted. "Of course I'll come to pick you up." And she had arrived in San Jose two hours later.
The three of them had dinner that evening at Chai Jane.
"It's terrible timing," Emily said. "I hate to see you two away from each other right now."
"The trial's almost over," David said hopefully. "Maybe it will end before the baby comes." Emily smiled. "We'll have a double celebration."
It was time to go. David held Sandra in his arms. "I'll talk to you every night," he said.
"Please don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I love you very much." Sandra looked at him and said, "Take care of yourself, David. You look tired."
It wasn't until Sandra left that David realized how utterly alone he was.
Court was in session. СЩТ
Mickey Brennan rose and addressed the court. "I would like to call Dr. Lawrence Larkin as my next witness."
A distinguished gray-haired man was sworn in and took the stand.
"I want to thank you for being here. Dr. Larkin. I know your time is very valuable. Would you tell us a little about your background?"
"I have a successful practice in Chicago. I'm a past resident of the Chicago Psychiatric Association."
"How many years have you been in practice, Doctor?"
"Approximately thirty years."
"And as a psychiatrist, I imagine you've seen many cases of multiple personality disorder?"
"No."
Brennan frowned. "When you say no, you mean you haven't seen a lot of them? Maybe a dozen?"
"I've never seen one case of multiple personality disorder."
Brennan looked at the jury in mock dismay, then back at the doctor. "In thirty years of working with mentally disturbed patients, you have never seen a single case of multiple personality disorder?"
"That's correct."
"I'm amazed. How do you explain that?"
"It's very simple. I don't think that multiple personality disorder exists."
"Well, I'm puzzled. Doctor. Haven't cases of multiple personality disorder been reported?"
Dr. Larkin snorted. "Being reported doesn't mean they're real. You see, what some doctors believe is MPD, they're confusing with schizophrenia, depressions and various other anxiety disorders."
"That's very interesting. So in your opinion, as an expert psychiatrist, you don't believe that multiple personality disorder even exists?"
"That is correct."
"Thank you. Doctor." Mickey Brennan turned to David. "Your witness."
David rose and walked over to the witness box. "You are a past president of the Chicago Psychiatric Association, Dr. Larkin?"
"Yes."
"You must have met a great many of your peers."
"Yes. I'm proud to say that I have."
"Do you know Dr. Royce Salem?"
"Yes. I know him very well."
"Is he a good psychiatrist?"
"Excellent. One of the best."
"Did you ever meet Dr. Clyde Donovan?"
"Yes. Many times."
"Would you say that he's a good psychiatrist?"
"I would use him"-a small chuckle-"if I needed one."
"And what about Dr. Ingram? Do you know him?"
"Ray Ingram? Indeed, I do. Fine man."
"Competent psychiatrist?"
"Oh, yes."
"Tell me, do all psychiatrists agree on every mental condition?"
"No. Of course we have some disagreements. Psychiatry is not an exact science."
"That's interesting. Doctor. Because Dr. Salem, Dr. Donovan and Dr. Ingram are going to come here and testify that they have treated cases of multiple personality disorder. Perhaps none of them is as competent as you are. That's all. No further questions." Judge Williams turned to Brennan. "Redirect?" Brennan got to his feet and walked over to the witness box.
"Dr. Larkin, do you believe that because these other doctors disagree with your opinion about MPD that that makes them right and you wrong?"
"No. I could produce dozens of psychiatrists who don't believe in MPD."
"Thank you. Doctor. No more questions."
Mickey Brennan said, "Dr. Upton, we've heard testimony that sometimes what is thought to be multiple personality disorder is really confused with other disorders. What are the tests that prove multiple personality disorder isn't one of those other conditions?"
"There is no test."
Brennan's mouth dropped open in surprise as he glanced at the jury. "There is no test? Are you saying that there's no way to tell whether someone who claims he has MPD is lying or malingering or using it to excuse some crime he or she doesn't want to be held responsible for?"
"As I said, there is no test."
"So it's simply a matter of opinion? Some psychiatrists believe in it and some don't?"
"That's right."
"Let me ask you this, Doctor. If you hypnotize someone, surely you can tell whether they really have MPD or they're pretending to have it?"
Dr. Upton shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Even under hypnosis or with Sodium Amytal, there is no way of exposing someone if he or she is faking."
"That's very interesting. Thank you, Doctor. No more questions." Brennan turned to David. "Your witness."
David rose and walked over to the witness box. "Dr. Upton, have you ever had patients come to you, having been diagnosed by other doctors as having MPD?"
"Yes. Several times."
"And did you treat those patients?"
"No, I didn't."
"Why not?"
"I can't treat conditions that don't exist. One of the patients was an embezzler who wanted me to testify that he wasn't responsible because he had an alter who did it. Another patient was a housewife who was arrested for beating her children. She says that someone inside her made her do it. There were a few more like that with different excuses, but they were all trying to bide from something. In other words, they were faking."
"You seem to have a very definite opinion about this, Doctor."
"I do. I know I'm right." David said, "You know you're right?"
"Well, I mean-"
"-that everyone else must be wrong? All the doctors who believe in MPD are all wrong?"
"I didn't mean that-"
"And you're the only one who's right. Thank you, Doctor. That's all."
Dr. Simon Raleigh was on the stand. He was a short, bald man in his sixties.
Brennan said, "Thank you for coming here. Doctor. You've had a long and illustrious career. You're a doctor, you're a professor, you went to school at-"
David stood up. "The defense will stipulate to the witness's distinguished background."
"Thank you." Brennan turned back to the witness. "Dr. Raleigh, what does iatrogenicity mean?"
"That's when there's an existing illness, and medical treatment of psychotherapy aggravates it."
"Would you be more specific. Doctor?"
"Well, in psychotherapy, very often the therapist influences the patient with his questions or attitude. He might make the patient feel that he has to meet the expectations of the therapist."
"How would that apply to MPD?"
" "If the psychiatrist is questioning the patient about different personalities within him, the patient might make up some in order to please the therapist. It's a very tricky area. Amytal and hypnosis can mimic MPD in patients who are otherwise normal."
"So what you're saying is that under hypnosis the psychiatrist himself can alter the condition of the patient so that the patient believes something that is not true?"
"That has happened, yes."
"Thank you. Doctor." He looked at David. "Your witness."
David said, "Thank you." He rose and walked over to the witness box. David said disarmingly, "Your credentials are very impressive. You're not only a psychiatrist, but you teach at a university."
"Yes."
"How long have you been teaching. Doctor?"
"More than fifteen years."
"That's wonderful. How do you divide your time? By that I mean, do you spend half of your time teaching and the other half working as a doctor?"
"Now, I teach full-time."
"Oh? How long has it been since you actually practiced medicine?"
"About eight years. But I keep up on all the current medical literature."
"I have to tell you, I find that admirable. So you read up on everything. That's how you're so familiar with iatrogenicity?"
"Yes."
"And in the past, a lot of patients came to you claiming they had MPD?"
"Well, no..."
"Not a lot? In the years you were practicing as a doctor, would you say you had a dozen cases who claimed they had MPD?"
"No."
"Six?" Dr. Raleigh shook his head. "Four?" There was no answer.
"Doctor, have you ever had a patient who came to you with MPD?"
"Well, it's hard to-"
"Yes or no. Doctor?"
"No."
"So all you really know about MPD is what you've read? No further questions."
The prosecution called six more witnesses, and the pattern was the same with each. Mickey Brennan had assembled nine top psychiatrists from around the country, all united in their belief that MPD did not exist.
The prosecution's case was winding to a close.
When the last witness on the prosecution's list had been excused. Judge Williams turned to Brennan. "Do you have any more witnesses to call, Mr. Brennan?"
"No, Your Honor. But I would like to show the jury police photographs of the death scenes from the murders F-"
David said furiously, "Absolutely not".
Judge Williams turned to David. "What did you say, Mr. Singer?"
"I said"-David caught himself-"objection. The prosecution is trying to inflame the jury by-"
"Objection overruled. The foundation was laid in a pretrial motion." Judge Williams turned to Brennan.
"You may show the photographs."
David took his seat, furious.
Brennan walked back to his desk and picked up a stack of photographs and handed them out to the jurors. "These are not pleasant to look at, ladies and gentlemen, but this is what the trial is about. It's not about words or theories or excuses. It's not about mysterious alter egos killing people. It's about three real people who were savagely and brutally murdered. The law says that someone has to pay for those murders. It's up to each one of you to see that justice is done."
Brennan could see the horror on the faces of the jurors as they looked at the photographs. He turned to Judge Williams. "The State rests." Judge Williams looked at her watch. "It's four o'clock. The court will recess for the day and begin again at ten o'clock Monday morning. Court adjourned."

CHAPTER NINETEEN

ashly Patterson was on the gallows being hanged, when a policeman ran up and said, "Wait a minute. She's supposed to be electrocuted."
The scene changed, and she was in the electric chair. A guard reached up to pull the switch, and Judge Williams came running in screaming, "No. We're going to kill her with a lethal injection."
David woke up and sat upright in bed, his heart pounding. His pajamas were wet with perspiration. He started to get up and was suddenly dizzy. He had a pounding headache, and he felt feverish. He touched his forehead. It was hot.
As David started to get out of bed, he was overcome by a wave of dizziness. "Oh, no," he groaned. "Not today. Not now." This was the day he had been waiting for, the day the defense would begin to present its case. David stumbled into the bathroom and bathed his face in cold water. He looked in the mirror. "You look like hell."
When David arrived in court, Judge Williams was already on the bench. They were all waiting for him.
"I apologize for being late," David said. His voice was a croak. "May I approach the bench?"
"Yes."
David walked up to the bench, with Mickey Brennan close behind him. "Your Honor," David said, "I'd like to ask for a one-day stay."
"On what grounds?"
"I-I'm not feeling very well, Your Honor. I'm sure a doctor can give me something and tomorrow I'll be fine."
Judge Williams said, "Why don't you have your associate take over for you?"
David looked at her in surprise. "I don't have an associate."
"Why don't you, Mr. Singer?"
"Because..."
Judge Williams leaned forward. "I've never seen a murder trial conducted like this. You're a one-man show looking for glory, aren't you? Well, you won't find it in this court. I'll tell you something else. You probably think I should refuse myself because I don't believe in your devil-made-me-do-it defense, but I'm not refusing myself. We're going to let the jury decide whether they think your client is innocent or guilty. Is there anything else, Mr. Singer?" David stood there looking at her, and the room was swimming. He wanted to tell her to go **** herself. He wanted to get on his knees and beg her to be fair. He wanted to go home to bed. He said in a hoarse voice, "No. Thank you. Your Honor."
Judge Williams nodded. "Mr. Singer, you're on. Don't waste any more of this court's time."
David walked over to the jury box, trying to forget about he’s headache and fever. He spoke slowly.
"Ladies and gentlemen, you have listened to the prosecution ridiculing the facts of multiple personality disorder. I'm sure that Mr. Brennan wasn't being deliberately malicious. His statements were made out of ignorance. The fact is that he obviously knows nothing about multiple personality disorder, and the same is true of some of the witnesses he has put on the stand. But I'm going to have some people talk to you who do know about it. These are reputable doctors, who are experts in this problem. When you have heard their testimony. I'm sure that it will cast a whole different light on what Mr. Brennan has had to say.
"Mr. Brennan has talked about my client's guilt in committing these terrible crimes. That's a very important point. Guilt. For murder in the first degree to be proved, there must be not only a guilty act, but also a guilty intention. I will show you that there was no guilty intention, because Ashley Patterson was not in control at the time the crimes occurred. She was totally unaware that they were taking place. Some eminent doctors are going to testify that Ashley Patterson has two additional personalities, or alters, one of them a controlling one." David looked into the faces of the jurors. They seemed to be swaying in front of him. He squeezed his eyes shut for an instant.
"The American Psychiatric Association recognizes multiple personality disorder. So do prominent physicians around the world who have treated patients with this problem. One of Ashley Patterson's personalities committed murder, but it was a personality-an alter- over which she had no control." His voice was getting stronger. "To see the problem clearly, you must understand that the law does not punish an innocent person. So there is a paradox here. Imagine that a Siamese twin is being tried for murder. The law says that you cannot punish the guilty one because you would then have to punish the innocent one." The jury was listening intently.
David nodded toward Ashley. "In this case, we have not two but three personalities to deal with."
He turned to Judge Williams. "I would like to call my first witness. Dr. Joel Ashanti."
"Dr. Ashanti, where do you practice medicine?"
"At Madison Hospital in New York."
"And did you come here at my request?"
"No. I read about the trial, and I wanted to testify. I've worked with patients who have multiple personality disorder, and I wanted to be helpful, if I could. MPD is much more common than the public realizes, and I want to try to clear up any misunderstandings about it."
"I appreciate that, Doctor. In cases like these, is it usual to find a patient with two personalities or alters?"
"In my experience, people with MPD usually have many more alters, sometimes as many as a hundred."
Eleanor Tucker turned to whisper something to Mickey Brennan. Brennan smiled.
"How long have you been dealing with multiple personality disorder? Dr. Ashanti?"
"For the past fifteen years."
"In a patient with MPD, is there usually one alter who dominates?"
"Yes."
Some of the jurors were making notes.
"And is the host-the person who has those personalities within him or her-aware of the other alters?"
"It varies. Sometimes some of the alters know all the other alters, sometimes they know only some of them. But the host is usually not aware of them, not until psychiatric treatment."
"That's very interesting. Is MPD curable?"
"Often, yes. It requires psychiatric treatment over long periods. Sometimes up to six or seven years."
"Have you ever been able to cure MPD patients?"
"Oh, yes."
"Thank you. Doctor."
David turned to study the jury for a moment. Interested, but not convinced, he thought.
He looked over at Mickey Brennan. "Your witness."
Brennan rose and walked over to the witness box.
"Dr. Ashanti, you testified that you flew here all the way from New Yolk because you wanted to be helpful?"
"That's correct."
"Your coming here couldn't have anything to do with the fact that this is a high-profile case and that the publicity would be beneficial to-"
David was on his feet. "Objection. Argumentative."
"Overruled."
Dr. Ashanti said calmly, "I stated why I came here."
"Right. Since you've been practicing medicine. Doctor, how many patients would you say you've treated for mental disorders?"
"Oh, perhaps two hundred."
"And of those cases, how many would you say suffered from multiple personality disorder?"
"A dozen..."
Brennan looked at him in feigned astonishment. "Out of two bundled patients?"
"Well, yes. You see-"
"What I don't see. Dr. Ashanti, is how you can consider yourself an expert if you've dealt with only those few cases. I would appreciate it if you would give us some evidence that would prove or disprove the existence of multiple personality disorder."
"When you say proof-"
"We're in a court of law, Doctor. The jury is not going to make decisions based on theory and 'what if.' What if, for example, the defendant hated the men she murdered, and after killing them, decided to use the excuse of an alter inside her so that she-"
David was on his feet "Objection! That's argumentative and leading the witness."
"Overruled."
"Your Honor-"
"Sit down, Mr. Singer."
David glared at Judge Williams and angrily took his seat.
"So what you're telling us. Doctor, is that there's no evidence that will prove or disprove the existence of MPD?"
"Well, no. But-"
Brennan nodded. "That's all."
Dr. Royce Salem was on the witness stand.
David said, "Dr. Salem, you examined Ashley Patterson?"
"I did."
"And what was your conclusion?"
"Miss Patterson is suffering from MPD. She has two alters who call themselves Toni Prescott and Alette Peters."
"Does she have any control over them?"
"None. When they take over, she is in a state of fugue amnesia."
"Would you explain that? Dr. Salem?"
"Fugue amnesia is a condition where the victim loses consciousness of where he is, or what he is doing. It can last for a few minutes, days or sometimes weeks."
"And during that time would you say that that person is responsible for his or her actions?"
"No."
"Thank you. Doctor." He turned to Brennan. "Your witness."
Brennan said, "Dr. Salem, you are a consultant at several hospitals and you give lectures all around the world?"
"Yes, sir."
"I assume that your peers are gifted, capable doctors?"
"Yes, I would say they are."
"So, they all agree about multiple personality disorder?"
"No."
"What do you mean, no?"
"Some of them don't agree."
"You mean, they don't believe it exists?"
"Yes."
"But they're wrong and you're right?"
"I've treated patients, and I know that there is such a thing. When-"
"Let me ask you something. If there were such a thing as multiple personality disorder, would one alter always be in charge of telling the host what to do? The alter says, 'Kill,' and the host does it?"
"It depends. Alters have various degrees of influence."
"So the host could be in charge?"
"Sometimes, of course."
"The majority of times?"
"No."
"Doctor, where is the proof that MPD exists?"
"I have witnessed complete physical changes in patients under hypnosis, and I know-"
"And that's a basis of truth?"
"Yes."
"Dr. Salem, if I hypnotized you in a warm room and told you that you were at the North Pole naked in a snowstorm, would your body temperature drop?"
"Well, yes, but-"
"That's all."
David walked over to the witness stand. "Dr. Salem, is there any doubt in your mind that these alters exist in Ashley Patterson?"
"None. And they are absolutely capable of taking over and dominating her."
"And she would not be aware of it?"
"She would not be aware of it."
"Thank you."
"I would like to call Shane Miller to the stand." David watched him being sworn in. "What do you do, Mr. Miller?"
"I'm a supervisor at Global Computer Graphics Corporation."
"And how long have you worked there?"
"About seven years."
"And was Ashley Patterson employed there?"
"Yes."
"And did she work under your supervision?"
"She did."
"So you got to know her pretty well?"
"That's right."
"Mr. Miller, you've heard doctors testify that some of the symptoms of multiple personality disorder are paranoia, nervousness, distress. Have you ever noticed any of those symptoms in Miss Patterson?"
"Well, I-"
"Didn't Miss Patterson tell you that she felt someone was stalking her?"
"Yes. She did."
"And what she had no idea who it could be or why anyone would do that?"
"That's right."
"Didn't she once say that someone used her computer to threaten her with a knife?"
"Yes."
"And didn't things get so bad that you finally sent her to the psychologist who works at your company Dr Speakman?"
"Yes."
"So Ashley Patterson did exhibit the symptoms we're talking about?"
"That's right."
"Thank you, Mr. Miller." David turned to Mickey Brennan. "Your witness."
"How many employees do you have directly under you Mr. Miller?"
"Thirty."
"And out of thirty employees, Ashley Patterson is the only one you've ever seen get upset?"
"Well, no..."
"Oh, really?"
"Everyone gets upset sometimes."
"You mean other employees had to go and see your company psychologist?"
"Oh, sure. They keep him pretty busy."
Brennan seemed impressed. "Is that so?"
"Yeah. A lot of them have problems. Hey, they're all human."
"No further questions."
"Redirect."
David approached the witness stand. "Mr. Miller, you said that some of the employees under you had problems. What kind of problems?"
"Well, it could be about an argument with a boyfriend or a husband...."
"Yes?"
"Or it could be about a financial problem...."
"Yes?"
"Or their kids bugging them...."
"In other words, the ordinary kinds of domestic problems that any of us might face?"
"Yes."
"But no one went to see Dr. Speakman because they thought they were being stalked or because they thought someone was threatening to kill them?"
"No."
"Thank you."
The trial was recessed for lunch.
David got into his car and drove through the park, depressed. The trial was going badly. The doctors couldn't make up their minds whether MPD existed or not. If they can't agree, David thought, how am I going to get a jury to agree? I can't let anything happen to Ashley. I can't. He was approaching Harold's Cafe, a restaurant near the courthouse. He parked the car and went inside. The hostess smiled at him.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Singer."
He was famous. Infamous?
"Right this way, please." He followed her to a booth and sat down. The hostess handed him the menu, gave him a lingering smile and walked away, her hips moving provocatively. The perks of fame, David thought wryly.
He was not hungry, but he could hear Sandra's voice saying, "You have to eat to keep up your strength."
There were two men and two women seated in the booth next to him. One of the men was saying, "She's a hell of a lot worse than Lizzie Borden. Borden killed only two people."
The other man added, "And she didn't castrate them."
"What do you think they'll do to her?"
"Are you kidding? She'll get the death sentence."
"Too bad the Butcher Bitch can't get three death sentences."
That's the public speaking, David thought. He had the depressing feeling that if he walked around the restaurant, he would hear variations of the same comments. Brennan had built her up as a monster. He could hear Quiller's voice. "If you don't put her on the stand, that's the image the jurors will carry in their minds when they go into the jury room to reach a verdict."
I've got to take the chance. I've got to let the jurors see for themselves that Ashley's telling the truth.
The waitress was at his side. "Are you ready to order, Mr. Singer?"
"I've changed my mind," David said. "I'm not hungry." As he got up and walked out of the restaurant, he could feel baleful eyes following him. I hope they're not armed, David thought.

CHAPTER TWENTY

When David returned to the courthouse, he visited Ashley in her cell. She was seated on the little cot, staring at the floor.
"Ashley."
She looked up, her eyes filled with despair.
David sat next to her. "We have to talk."
She watched him, silent.
"These terrible things they're saying about you... none of them are true. But the jurors don't know that. They don't know you. We've got to let them see what you're really like."
Ashley looked at him and said dully, "What am I really like?"
"You're a decent human being who has an illness. They'll sympathize with that."
"What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to get on the witness stand and testify."
She was staring at him, horrified. "I-I can't. I don't know anything. I can't tell them anything."
"Let me handle that. All you have to do is answer my questions."
A guard came up to the cell. "Court's coming into session."
David rose and squeezed Ashley's hand. "It's going to work. You'll see."
"All rise. Court is now in session. The Honorable Judge Tessa Williams presiding in the case of The People of the State of California Versus Ashley Patterson."
Judge Williams took her seat on the bench. David said, "May I approach the bench?"
"You may."
Mickey Brennan walked to the bench with David.
"What is it, Mr. Singer?"
"I'd like to call a witness who's not on the discovery list."
Brennan said, "It's awfully late in the trial to introduce new witnesses."
"I would like to call Ashley Patterson as my next witness."
Judge Williams said, "I don't-"
Mickey Brennan said quickly, "The state has no objection, Your Honor."
Judge Williams looked at the two attorneys. "Very well. You may call your witness, Mr. Singer."
"Thank you. Your Honor." He walked over to Ashley and held out his hand. "Ashley..."
She sat there in a panic.
"You must."
She rose, her heart palpitating, and slowly made her way to the witness stand.
Mickey Brennan whispered to Eleanor, "I was praying that he'd call her."
Eleanor nodded. "It's over."
Ashley Patterson was being sworn in by the court cleric. "You do solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"
"I do." Her voice was a whisper. Ashley took her seat in the witness box.
David walked over to her. He said gently, "I know this is very difficult for you. You've been accused of horrible crimes that you did not commit. All I want is for the jury to know the truth. Do you have any memory of committing any of those crimes?"
Ashley shook her head. "No."
David glanced at the jury, and then went on. "Did you know Dennis Tibble?"
"Yes. We worked together at Global Computer Graphics Corporation."
"Did you have any reason to kill Dennis Tibble?"
"No." It was difficult for her to speak. "I-I went to his apartment to give him some advice that he had asked me for, and that was the last time I saw him."
"Did you know Richard Melton?"
"No..."
"He was an artist. He was murdered in San Francisco. The police found evidence of your DNA and fingerprints there."
Ashley was shaking her head from side to side. "I-I don't know what to say. I didn't know him!"
"You knew deputy Sam Blake?"
"Yes. He was helping me. I didn't kill him!"
"Are you aware that you have two other personalities, alters, within you, Ashley?"
"Yes." Her voice was strained. "When did you learn this?"
"Before the trial. Dr. Salem told me about it. I couldn't believe it. I-I still can't believe it. It's-it's to awful."
"You had no previous knowledge of these alters."
"No."
"You had never heard of Toni Prescott or Alette Peters?"
"No!"
"Do you believe now that they exist within you?"
"Yes...I have to believe it. They must have done all these-these horrible things...."
"So you have no recollection of ever having met Richard Melton, you had no motive for killing Dennis Tibble or for killing deputy Sam Blake, who was at your apartment to protect you?"
"That's right." Her eyes swept over the crowded courtroom, and she felt a sense of panic.
"One last question," David said. "Have you ever been in trouble with the law?"
"Never."
David put his hand on hers. "That's all for now." He tamed to Mickey Brennan. "Your witness."
Brennan rose, a big smile on his face. "Well, Miss Patterson, we finally get to talk to all of you. Did you ever, at any time, have sexual intercourse with Dennis Tibble?"
"No."
"Did you ever have sexual intercourse with Richard Melton?"
"No."
"Did you ever, at any time, have sexual intercourse; with deputy Samuel Blake?"
"No."
"That's very interesting." Brennan glanced at the jury. "Because traces of a vaginal discharge were found on the bodies of all three men. The DNA tests matched your DNA."
"I...don't know anything about that."
"Maybe you've been framed. Maybe some fiend got hold of it-"
"Objection! It's argumentative."
"Overruled."
"-and planted it on those three mutilated bodies. Do you have any enemies who would do such a thing to you?"
"I... don't know."
"The FBI's fingerprint lab checked the fingerprints the police found at the scenes of the crimes. And I'm sure this will surprise you-"
"Objection."
"Sustained. Be careful, Mr. Brennan."
"Yes, Your Honor."
Satisfied, David slowly sat down.
Ashley was on the verge of hysteria. "The alters must have-"
"The fingerprints at the scenes of the three murders were yours, and yours alone." Ashley sat there, silent.
Brennan walked over to a table, picked up a butcher knife wrapped in cellophane and held it up. "Do you recognize this?"
"It-it could be one of... one of my-"
"One of your knives? It is. It has already been admitted into evidence. The stains on it match the blood of deputy Blake. Your fingerprints are on this murder weapon." Ashley was mindlessly shaking her head from side to side.
"I've never seen a clearer case of cold-blooded murder or a more feeble defense. Hiding behind two nonexistent, imaginary characters is the most-"
David was on his feet again. "Objection."
"Sustained. I've already warned you, Mr. Brennan."
"Sorry, Your Honor."
Brennan went on. "I'm sure that the jury would like to meet the characters you're talking about. You are Ashley Patterson, correct?"
"Yes..."
"Fine. I would like to talk to Toni Prescott."
"I...I can't bring her out."
Brennan looked at her in surprise. "You can't? Really? Well, then, how about Alette Peters?"
Ashley shook her head despairingly. "I...don't control them."
"Miss Patterson, I'm trying to help you," Brennan said. "I want to show the jury your alters who killed and mutilated three innocent men. Bring them out!"
"I...I can't." She was sobbing.
"You can't because they don't exist! You're hiding behind phantoms. You're the only one sitting in that box, and you're the only one who's guilty. They don't exist, but you do, and I'll tell you what else exists-irrefutable, undeniable proof that you murdered three men and cold-bloodedly emasculated them." He turned to Judge Williams. "Your Honor, the state rests."
David turned to look at the jury. They were all staring at Ashley and their faces were filled with repulsion. Judge Williams turned to David. "Mr. Singer?" David rose. "Your Honor, I would like permission to have the defendant hypnotized so that-"
Judge Williams said curtly, "Mr. Singer, I warned you before that I will not have this trial turned into a sideshow. You can't hypnotize her in my courtroom. The answer is no."
David said fiercely, "You have to let me do this. You don't know how important."
"That's enough, Mr. Singer." Her voice was ice. "I'm citing you a second time for contempt. Do you want to reexamine the witness or don't you?"
David stood there, frustrated. "Yes, Your Honor." He walked over to the witness box. "Ashley, you know you're under oath?"
"Yes." She was taking deep breaths, fighting to control herself.
"And everything you've said is the truth as you know it?"
"Yes."
"You know that there are two alters in your mind and body and soul who you have no control over?"
"Yes."
"Toni and Alette?"
"Yes."
"You didn't commit any of those terrible murders?"
"No."
"One of them did, and you're not responsible." Eleanor looked at Brennan questioningly, but he smiled and shook his head. "Let him hang himself," he whispered.
"Helen-" David stopped, white-faced at his slip. "I mean, Ashley...want you to have Toni come out."
Ashley looked at David and shook her head helplessly. "I-I can't," she whispered.
David said, "Yes, you can. Toni is listening to us right now. She's enjoying herself, and why shouldn't she? She got away with three murders." He raised his voice. "You're very clever, Toni. Come on out and take a bow. No one can touch you. They can't punish you because Ashley is innocent, and they'd have to punish her to get at you."
Everyone in the courtroom was staring at David. Ashley sat there, frozen.
David moved closer to her. "Toni! Toni, can you hear me? I want you to come out. Now!"
He waited a moment. Nothing happened. He raised his voice. "Toni! Alette! Come out! Come on out. We all know you're in there!"
There was not a sound in the courtroom.
David lost control. He was yelling, "Come out Show your faces.... Damn it! Now! Now!"
Ashley dissolved in tears.
Judge Williams said furiously, "Approach the bench, Mr. Singer."
Slowly, David walked over to the bench. "Are you through badgering your client, Mr. Singer? I'm going to send a report of your behavior to the state bar association. You're a disgrace to your profession, and I'm going to recommend that you're disbarred."
David had no answer.
"Do you have any more witnesses to call?"
David shook his head defeated. "No, Your Honor."
It was over. He had lost Ashley was going to die.
"The defense rests."
Joseph Kincaid was seated in the last row of the courtroom, watching, his face grim. He turned to Harvey Udell. "Get rid of him." Kincaid got up and left.
Udell stopped David as he was leaving the courtroom.
"David..."
"Hello, Harvey."
"Sorry about the way this turned out."
"It's not-"
"Mr. Kincaid hates to do this, but, well, he thinks it would be better if you didn't come back to the firm. Good luck."
The moment David stepped outside the courtroom, he was surrounded by television cameras and shouting reporters.
"Do you have a statement, Mr. Singer...?"
"We hear Judge Williams says you're going to be disbarred...."
"Judge Williams says she's going to hold you for contempt of court. Do you think you-?"
"The experts feel you've lost this case. Do you plan to appeal...?"
"Our network legal experts say that your client will get the death penalty...."
"Have you made any plans for the future...?" David got into his car without a word and drove away.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

He rewrote the scenes in his mind, over and over again, endlessly.
I saw the news this morning. Dr. Patterson. I can't tell you how very sorry I am.
Yes. It's been quite a blow. I need your help, David.
Of course. Anything I can do.
I want you to represent Ashley.
I can't do that. I'm not a criminal defense lawyer. But I can recommend a great attorney, Jesse Quitter.
That will be fine. Thank you, David....
You're an anxious young fellow, aren't you? Our meeting wasn't supposed to be until five o'clock. Well, I have good news for you. We're making you a partner.
* * *
You asked to see me?
Yes, Your Honor. They're talking about this trial on the Internet, and they've already convicted the defendant. This could seriously damage the defense. Therefore, I'm making a motion for a mistrial.
I think those are excellent grounds for a mistrial, Mr. Singer. I'm going to grant it....
The bitter-tasting game of "what if."...
The following morning, the court was in session.
"Is the prosecution ready to make its closing argument?" Brennan stood up. He walked over to the jury box and looked at the jurors one by one.
"You're in a position to make history here. If you believe that the defendant is really a lot of different people and she's not responsible for what she's done, for the terrible crimes she committed, and you let her go, then you're saying that anybody can get away with murder by simply claiming that they didn't do it, that some mysterious alter ego did it. They can rob, rape and kill, and are they guilty? No. I didn't do it. My alter ego did it.' Ken or Joe or Suzy or whatever they want to call themselves. Well, I think you're all too intelligent to fall for that fantasy. The reality is in those photographs you looked at. Those people weren't murdered by any alter egos. They were all deliberately, calculatedly, cruelly murdered by the defendant sitting at that table, Ashley Patterson. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, what the defense has tried to do in this court has been tried before. In Mann Versus Teller, the decision was that a finding of MPD does not, per se, require a finding of acquittal. In United States Versus Whirley, a nurse who murdered a baby pleaded that she had MPD. The court found her guilty.
"You know, I almost feel sorry for the defendant.. All those characters living in that poor girl. I'm sure none of us would want a bunch of crazy strangers moving around inside us, would we? Going around murdering and castrating men. I'd be scared."
He turned to look at Ashley. "The defendant doesn't seem scared, does she? Not too scared to put on a pretty dress and comb her hair nicely and apply makeup. Six doesn't seem scared at all. She thinks you're going to believe her story and let her go. No one can prove whether this multiple personality disorder really exists at all, so we're going to have to make our own judgments.
"The defense claims that these characters come out and take over. Let's see-there's Toni; she was born ii England. And Alette; she was born in Italy. They're al the same person. They were just born in different countries at different times. Does that confuse you? I know it confuses me. I offered the defendant a chance to let us see her alters, but she didn't take me up on it. I wonder why? Could it be because they don't exist...? Does California law recognize MPD as a mental condition? No. Colorado law? No. Mississippi? No. Federal law? No. As a matter of fact, no state has a law confirming MPD as a legal defense. And why? Because it isn't a defense. Ladies and gentlemen, it's a fictitious alibi to punishment...."
"What the defense is asking you to believe is that are two people inside the defendant, so no one bears any responsibility for her criminal actions. But there is only one defendant sitting in this courtroom - Ashley Patterson. We have proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that she is a murderer. But she claims she didn't commit the crimes. That was done by someone else, someone who borrowed her body to kill innocent people - her alters. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we all had alters, someone to carry out anything we secretly wanted done that society doesn't permit? Or maybe not. Would you like to live in a world where people could go around murdering others and say, 'You can't touch me, my alter did it' and 'You can't punish my alter because my alter is really me'?
"But this trial is not about some mythical characters who don't exist. The defendant, Ashley Patterson, is on trial for three vicious, cold-blooded murders, and the state is asking the death penalty. Thank you."
Mickey Brennan returned to his seat.
"Is the defense ready to present its closing argument?"
David rose. He walked to the jury box and looked into the faces of the jurors, and what he saw there was disheartening. "I know that this has been a very difficult case for all of us. You've heard experts testify that they've treated multiple personality disorder, and you've heard other experts testify that there is no such thing. You're not doctors, so no one expects you to make your judgment based on medical knowledge. I want to apologize to all of you if my behavior yesterday seemed boorish. I yelled at Ashley Patterson only because I wanted to force her alters to come out. I've talked to those alters. I know they exist. There really is an Alette and a Toni, and they can control Ashley anytime they want to. She has no knowledge of committing any murders.
"I told you at the beginning of this trial that for someone to be convicted of first-degree murder, there has to be physical evidence and a motive. There is no motive here, ladies and gentlemen. None. And the law says that the prosecution must prove a defendant is guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. I'm sure you'll agree that in this case, there is a reasonable doubt.
"As far as proof is concerned, the defense does not question it. There are Ashley Patterson's fingerprints and traces of DNA at each of the crime scenes. But the very fact that they are there should give us pause. Ashley Patterson is an intelligent young woman. If she committed a murder and did not want to be caught, would she have been stupid enough to leave her fingerprints at each one of the scenes? The answer is no."
David went on for another thirty minutes. At the end, he looked at their faces and was not reassured. He sat down.
Judge Williams turned to the jurors. "I want to instruct you now on the applicable law to this case. I want you to listen carefully." She talked for the next twenty minutes, detailing what was admissible and allowable by law.
"If you have any questions, or want any part of the testimony read back to you, the court reporter will do so. The jury is excused to go deliberate. Court is adjourned until they return with their verdict."
David watched the jury file out of the box and into the jury room. The longer the jurors take, the better our chances, David thought. The jurors returned forty-five minutes later.
David and Ashley watched as the jurors filed in and took their seats in the jury box. Ashley was stone-faced. David found that he was perspiring.
Judge Williams turned to the jury foreman. "Have the jurors reached a verdict?"
"We have. Your Honor."
"Would you please hand it to the bailiff."
The bailiff carried the piece of paper to the judge. Judge Williams unfolded it. There was not a sound in the courtroom.
The bailiff returned the paper to the jury foreman. "Would you read the verdict, please?"
In a slow, measured tone, he read, "In the case of The People of the State of California Versus Ashley Patterson, we, the jury, in the above entitled action, find the defendant, Ashley Patterson, guilty of the murder of Dennis Tibble, a violation of Penal Code Section 187."
There was a gasp in the courtroom. Ashley shut her eyes tightly.
"In the case of The People of the State of California Versus Ashley Patterson, we, the jury, in the above entitled action, find the defendant, Ashley Patterson, guilty of the murder of deputy Samuel Blake, a violation of Penal Code Section 187.
"In the case of The People of the State of California Versus Ashley Patterson, we, the jury, in the above entitled action, find the defendant, Ashley Patterson, guilty of the murder of Richard Melton, a violation of Penal Code Section 187. We, the jury, in all the verdicts, further fix the degree at first degree."
David was finding it difficult to breathe. He turned to Ashley, but he had no words. He leaned over and put his arms around her.
Judge Williams said, "I would like to have the jury polled." One by one, each juror stood up.
"Was the verdict read, your verdict?"
And when each one had affirmed it, Judge Williams said, "The verdict will be recorded and entered into the record." She went on. "I want to thank the jury for their time and service in this case. You're dismissed. Tomorrow the court will take up the issue of sanity."
David sat there, numb, watching Ashley being led away.
Judge Williams got up and walked to her chambers without looking at David. Her attitude told David more clearly than words what her decision was going to be in the morning. Ashley was going to be sentenced to die.
Sandra called from San Francisco. "Are you all right, David?"
He tried to sound cheerful. "Yes, I'm great. How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine. I've been watching the news on television. The judge wasn't fair to you. She can't have you disbarred. You were only trying to help your client."
He had no answer.
"I'm so sorry, David. I wish were with you. I could drive down and-"
"No," David said. "We can't take any chances. Did you see the doctor today?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"Very soon now. Any day." Happy birthday, Jeffrey.
Jesse Quiller called. "I bungled it," David said.
"Like hell you did. You got the wrong judge. What did you ever do to get ho: so down on you?"
David said, "She wanted me to plea-bargain. She didn't want this to go to trial. Maybe I should have listened to her."
All the television channels were full of the news of his disgrace. He watched one of the network's legal experts discussing the case.
"I've never heard of a defending attorney screaming at his own client before. I must tell you, the courtroom was stunned. It was one of the most outrageous-"
David switched off the station. Where did it all go wrong? Life is supposed to have a happy ending. Because I've bungled everything, Ashley's going to die. I'm going to be disbarred, the baby's going to be born any minute and I don't even have a job.
He sat in his hotel room in the middle of the night, staring into the darkness. It was the lowest moment of his life. Playing over and over again in his mind was the final courtroom scene. "You can't hypnotize her in my courtroom. The answer is no. "
If only she had let me hypnotize Ashley on the stand, I know she would have convinced the jury. Too late. It's all over now.
And a small, nagging voice in his mind said. Who says it's over? I don't hear the fat lady singing.
There's nothing more I can do.
Your client is innocent. Are you going to let her die?
Leave me alone.
Judge Williams's words kept echoing in his mind.
"You can't hypnotize her in my courtroom."
And three words kept repeating themselves-"in my courtroom."
At five o'clock in the morning, David made two excited, urgent phone calls. As he finished, the sun was just beginning to appear over the horizon. It's an omen, David thought. We're going to win.
A little later, David hurried into an antiques store.
The clerk approached him. "May I help you, sir?" He recognized David. "Mr. Singer."
"I'm looking for a folding Chinese screen. Do you have something like that?"
"Yes, we do. We don't have any real antique screens, but-"
"Let's see what you have."
"Certainly." He led David over to the section where there were several Chinese folding screens. The clerk pointed to the first one. "Now, this one-"
"That's fine," David said.
"Yes, sir. Where shall I send it?"
"I'll take it with me."
David's next stop was at a hardware store, where he bought a Swiss Army knife. Fifteen minutes later, he was walking into the lobby of the courthouse carrying the screen. He said to the guard at the desk, "I made arrangements to interview Ashley Patterson. I have permission to use Judge Goldberg's chambers. He's not here today."
The guard said, "Yes, sir. It's all set. I'll have the defendant brought up. Dr. Salem and another man are already up there, waiting."
"Thank you."
The guard watched David carry the Chinese screen into the elevator. Crazy as a loon, he thought.
Judge Goldberg's chamber was a comfortable-looking room with a desk facing the window, a swivel chair, and near one wall a couch and several chars. Dr. Salem and another man were standing in the room when David entered.
"Sorry I'm late," David said.
Dr. Salem said, "This is Hugh Iverson. He's the expert you asked for."
The two men shook hands. "Let's get set up fast," David said. "Ashley's on her way here."
He turned to Hugh Iverson and pointed to a corner of the room. "How's that for you?"
"Fine."
He watched Iverson go to work. A few minutes later, the door opened and Ashley entered with a guard. "I'll have to stay in the room," the guard said.
David nodded. "That's all right." He turned to Ashley. "Sit down, please."
He watched her take a seat. "First of all, I want to tell you how terribly sorry I am about the way things went."
She nodded, almost dazed.
"But it's not over yet. We still have a chance."
She looked at him with disbelieving eyes.
"Ashley, I would like Dr. Salem to hypnotize you again."
"No. What's the point in-"
"Do it for me. Will you?"
She shrugged.
David nodded to Dr. Salem.
Dr. Salem said to Ashley, "We've done this before, so you know that all you have to do is close your eyes and relax. Just relax. Feel all the muscles in your body letting go of all the tension. All you want to do is sleep. You're getting very drowsy...."
Ten minutes later. Dr. Salem looked at David and said, "She's completely under."
David moved toward Ashley, and his heart was pounding.
"I want to talk to Toni."
There was no reaction.
David raised his voice. "Toni, I want you to come out. Do you hear me? Alette...want you both to talk tome."
Silence.
David was yelling now. "What's the matter with you? Are you too frightened? That's what happened in the courtroom, isn't it? Did you hear what the jury said? Ashley's guilty. You were afraid to come out. You're a coward, Toni!"
They looked at Ashley. There was no reaction. David looked at Dr. Salem in despair. It was not going to work.
"Court is now in session. The Honorable Judge Tessa Williams presiding."
Ashley was seated at the defendant's table next to David. David's hand was wrapped in a large bandage.
David rose. "May I approach the bench? Your Honor?"
"You may."
David walked toward the bench. Brennan followed him.
David said, "I would like to present new evidence to this case."
"Absolutely not," Brennan objected.
Judge Williams turned to him and said, "Let me make that decision, Mr. Brennan." She turned back to David.
"The trial is over. Your client has been convicted and-"
"This concerns the insanity plea," David said. "All I'm asking for is ten minutes of your time."
Judge Williams said angrily, "Time doesn't mean much to you, does it, Mr. Singer? You have already wasted a great deal of everyone's time." She made her decision. "All right. I hope this is the last request you'll ever be able to make in a court of law. The court is recessed for ten minutes."
David and Brennan followed the judge to her chambers.
She turned to David. "I'm giving you your ten minutes. What is it, Counselor?"
"I want to show you a piece of film. Your Honor." Brennan said, I don't see what this has to do with-"
Judge Williams said to Brennan, "I don't, either." She turned to David. "You now have nine minutes."
David hurried over to the door leading to the hallway and opened it. "Come in."
Hugh Iverson walked in, carrying a sixteen-millimeter projector and a portable screen. "Where should I set it up?"
David pointed to a corner of the room. "Over there."
They watched as the man set up the equipment and plugged in the projector.
"May I pull down the shades?" David asked.
It was all Judge Williams could do to hold back her anger. "Yes, you go right ahead, Mr. Singer." She looked at her watch. "You have seven minutes."
The projector was turned on. Judge Goldberg's chambers flickered onto the screen. David and Dr. Salem were watching Ashley, who was seated in a chair.
On the screen, Dr. Salem said, "She's completely under."
David walked up to Ashley. "I want to talk to Toni.... Toni, want you to come out. Do you hear me? Alette...want you both to talk to me."
Silence.
Judge Williams sat there, her face tight, watching the film.
David was yelling now. "What's the matter with you? Are you too frightened? That's what happened in the courtroom, isn't it? Did you hear what the jury said? Ashley's guilty. You were afraid to come out. You're a coward, Toni!"
Judge Williams got to her feet. "I've had enough of this! I've seen this disgusting performance before. Your time is up, Mr. Singer."
"Wait," David said. "You haven't-"
"It's finished," Judge Williams told him and started for the door. Suddenly, a song began to fill the room.

"A penny for a spool of thread.
A penny for a needle.
That's the way the money goes,
Pop! goes the weasel."

Puzzled, Judge Williams turned around. She looked at the picture on the screen.
Ashley's face had completely changed. It was Toni. Toni said angrily, "Too frightened to come out in court? Did you really think I would come out just because you ordered me to? What do you think I am, a trained pony?"
Judge Williams slowly moved back into the room, staring at the film.
"I listened to all those bloody gits making fools of themselves." She mimicked one of their voices. " 'I don't think that multiple personality disorder exists.' What idiots. I've never seen such-"
As they watched, Ashley's face changed again. She seemed to relax in her chair, and her face took on a shy look. In her Italian accent, Alette said, "Mr. Singer, know you did the best you could. I wanted to appear in court and help you, but Toni wouldn't let me." Judge Williams was watching, her face blank. The face and voice changed again. "You're bleeding right wouldn't," Toni said.
David said, "Toni, what do you think is going to happen to you if the judge gives Ashley the death sentence?"
"She's not going to give her the death sentence. Ashley didn't even know one of the men. Remember?"
David said, "But Alette knew them all. You committed those murders, Alette. You had sex with those men and then you stabbed them to death and castrated them...."
Toni said, "You bloody idiot! You don't know anything, do you? Alette would never have had the nerve to do that. I did it. They deserved to die. All they wanted to do was have sex." She was breathing hard. "But I made them all pay for it, didn't I? And no one can ever prove I did it. Let little Miss Goody Two-shoes take the blame. We'll all go to a nice cozy asylum and-"
In the background, behind the Chinese screen in the corner, there was a loud click.
Toni turned. "What was that?"
"Nothing," David said quickly. "It was just-"
Toni rose and started running toward the camera until her face filled the screen. She pushed against something, and the scene tilled; part of the folding Chinese screen fell into the picture. A small hole had been cut in the center.
"You've got a ****ing camera behind here," Toni screamed. She turned to David. "You son of a bitch, what are you trying to do? You tricked me!"
On the desk was a letter opener. Toni grabbed it and lunged at David, screaming, "I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill you!"
David tried to hold her, but he was no match for her. The letter opener sliced into his hand.
Toni raised her arm to strike again, and the guard ran to her and tried to grab her. Toni knocked him to the floor. The door opened and a uniformed officer ran in. When he saw what was happening, he lunged at Toni. She kicked him in the groin, and he went down. Two more officers came running in. It took three of them to pin Toni to the chair, and all the time she was yelling and screaming at them.
Blood was pouring from David's hand. He said to Dr. Salem, "For God's sake, wake her up."
Dr. Salem said, "Ashley... Ashley... listen to me. You're going to come out now. Toni is gone. It's safe to come out now, Ashley. I'm going to count to three."
And as the group watched, Ashley's body became quiet and relaxed.
"Can you hear me?"
"Yes." It was Ashley's voice, sounding far away.
"You'll awaken at the count of three. One... two... three... How do you feel?"
Her eyes opened. "I feel so tired. Did I say anything?"
The screen in Judge Williams' s office went blank. David walked over to the wall and turned on the lights.
Brennan said, "Well! What a performance. If they were giving out Oscars for the best-"
Judge Williams turned to him. "Shut up." Brennan looked at her, in shock. There was a momentary silence. Judge Williams turned to David. "Counselor."
"Yes?" There was a pause. "I owe you an apology."

Seated on the bench, Judge Tessa Williams said, "Both counsels have agreed that they will accept the opinion of a psychiatrist who has already examined the defendant, Dr. Salem. The decision of this court is that the defendant is not guilty by reason of insanity. She will be ordered to a mental health facility, where she can be treated. The court is now adjourned.'
David stood up, drained. It's over, he thought. It's finally over. He and Sandra could start living their lives again.
He looked at Judge Williams and said happily, "We're having a baby."
Dr. Salem said to David, "I would like to make a suggestion. I'm not sure it can be done, but if you can arrange it, I think it would be helpful to Ashley."
"What is it?"
"The Connecticut Psychiatric Hospital back east has handled more cases of MPD than any other place in the country. A friend of mine, Dr. Otto Lewison, is in charge of it. If you could arrange for the court to have Ashley sent there, I think it would be very beneficial."
"Thanks," David said. "I'll see what I can do."
Dr. Steven Patterson said to David, "I-I don't know how to thank you."
David smiled. "You don't have to. It was quid pro quo. Remember?"
"You did a brilliant job. For a while I was afraid-"
"So was I."
"But justice has been served. My daughter's going to be cured."
"I'm sure of it," David said. "Dr. Salem suggested a psychiatric hospital in Connecticut. Their doctors are trained in MPD."
Dr. Patterson was silent for a moment. "You know, Ashley didn't deserve any of this. She's such a beautiful person."
"I agree. I'll talk to Judge Williams and try to get the transfer."
Judge Williams was in her chambers. "What can I do for you, Mr. Singer?"
"I'd like to ask a favor." She smiled. "I hope I can grant it. What is it?" David explained to the judge what Dr. Salem had told him.
"Well, that's a rather unusual request. We have some fine psychiatric facilities right here in California."
David said, "All right. Thank you. Your Honor." He turned to leave, disappointed.
"I haven't said no, Mr. Singer." David stopped. "It's an unusual request, but this has been an unusual case." David waited.
"I think I can arrange for her to be transferred."
"Thank you. Your Honor. I appreciate it."
In her cell, Ashley thought. They've sentenced me to death. A long death in an asylum filled with crazy people. It would have been kinder to kill me now. She thought of the endless, hopeless years ahead of her, and she began to sob.
The cell door opened, and her father came in. He stood there a moment, looking at her, his face filled with anguish.
"Honey..." He sat down opposite her. "You're going to live," he said.
She shook her head. "I don't want to live."
"Don't say that. You have a medical problem, but it can be cured. And it's going to be. When you're better, you're going to come and live with me, and I'll take care of you. No matter what happens, we'll always have each other. They can't take that away from us."
Ashley sat there, saying nothing.
"I know how you're feeling right now, but believe me, that's going to change. My girl is going to come home to me, cured." He slowly got to his feet "I'm afraid I have to get back to San Francisco." He waited for Ashley to say something.
She was silent.
"David told me that he thinks you're going to be sent to one of the best psychiatric centers in the world. I'll come and visit you. Would you like that?"
She nodded, dully. "Yes."
"All right, honey." He kissed her on the cheek and gave her a hug. "I'm going to see to it that you have the best care in the world. I want my little girl back."
Ashley watched her father leave, and she thought, Why can't I die now? Why won't they let me die? One hour later, David came to see her. "Well, we did it," he said. He looked at her in concern. "Are you all right?"
"I don't want to go to an insane asylum. I want to die. I can't stand living like this. Help me, David. Please help me."
"Ashley, you're going to get help. The past is over. You have a future now. The nightmare is going to be finished." He took her hand. "Look, you've trusted me this far. Keep trusting me. You're going to live a normal life again."
She sat there, silent.
"Say 'I believe you, David.' "
She took a deep breath. "I-I believe you, David."
He grinned. "Good girl. This is a new beginning for you."
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...."

BOOK THREE
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.
Ashley was wearing handcuffs, and when she sat down, her feet were shackled to the bottom of the seat.
Why are they doing this to me? I'm not a dangerous criminal. I'm a normal woman. And a voice inside her said. Who murdered five innocent people?
The prisoners on the plane were hardened criminals, convicted of murder, rape, armed robbery and a dozen other crimes. They were on their way to top security prisons around the country. Ashley was the only woman on board.
One of the convicts looked at her and grinned. "Hi, baby. How would you like to come over and warm up my lap?"
"Cool it," a guard warned.
"Hey! Don't you have any romance in your soul? This bitch ain't going to get laid for-What's your sentence, baby?"
Another convict said, "Are you have any, honey? How about me movin' into the seat next to you and slippin' you-?"
Another convict was staring at Ashley. "Wait a minute!" he said. "That's the broad who killed five men and castrated them."
They were all looking at Ashley now.
That was the end of the badgering.
On the way to New York, the plane made two landings to discharge or pick up passengers. It was a long flight, the air was turbulent and by the time they landed at La Guardia Airport, Ashley was airsick.
Two uniformed police officers were waiting for her on the tarmac when the plane landed. She was unshackled from the plane seat and shackled again in die interior of a police van. She had never felt so humiliated. The fact that she felt so normal made it all the more unbearable. Did they think she was going to try to escape or murder someone? All that was over, in the past. Didn't they know that? She was sure it would never happen again. She wanted to be away from there. Anywhere.
Sometime during the long, dreary drive to Connecticut, she dozed off. She was awakened by a guard's voice.
"We're here."
They had reached the gates of the Connecticut Psychiatric Hospital.
When Ashley Patterson was ushered into Dr. Lewison's office, he said, "Welcome to Connecticut Psychiatric Hospital, Miss Patterson."
Ashley stood there, pale and silent.
Dr. Lewison made the introductions and held out a chair. "Sit down, please." He looked at the guard. "Take off the handcuffs and shackles."
The restraints were removed, and Ashley took a seat.
Dr. Foster said, "I know this must be very difficult for you. We're going to do everything we can to make it as easy as possible. Our goal is to see that one day you will leave this place, cured."
Ashley found her voice. "How-how long could that -take?"
Otto Lewison said, "It's too soon to answer that yet. If you can be cured, it could take five or six years."
Each word hit Ashley like a thunderbolt. '"If you can be cured, it could take five or six years...."
"The therapy is nonthreatening. It will consist of a combination of sessions with Dr. Keller-hypnotism, group therapy, art therapy. The important thing to remember is that we're not your enemies."
Gilbert Keller was studying her face. "We're here to help you, and we want you to help us do that."
There was nothing more to say.
Otto Lewison nodded to the attendant, and he walked over to Ashley and took her arm.
Craig Foster said, "He'll take you to your quarters now. We'll talk again later."
When Ashley had left the room, Otto Lewison turned to Gilbert Keller. "What do you think?"
"Well, there's one advantage. There are only two alters to work on."
Keller was trying to remember. "What's the most we've had?"
"The Beltrand woman-ninety alters."
Ashley had not known what to expect, but somehow she had envisioned a dark, dreary prison. The Connecticut Psychiatric Hospital was more like a pleasant clubhouse-with metal bars.
As the attendant escorted Ashley through the long, cheerful corridors, Ashley watched the inmates freely walking back and forth. There were people of every age, and all of them seemed normal. Why are they here? Some of them smiled at her and said, "Good morning," but Ashley was too bewildered to answer. Everything seemed surreal. She was in an insane asylum. Am I insane?
They reached a large steel door that closed off a part of the building. There was a male attendant behind the door. He pressed a red button and the huge door opened.
"This is Ashley Patterson."
The second attendant said, "Good morning, Miss Patterson." They made everything seem so normal. But nothing is normal anymore, Ashley thought. The world is upside down.
"This way. Miss Patterson." He walked her to another door and opened it. Ashley stepped inside. Instead of a cell, she was looking at a pleasant, medium-size room with pastel blue walls, a small couch and a comfortable-looking bed.
"This is where you'll be staying. They'll be bringing your things in a few minutes."
Ashley watched the guard leave and close the door behind him. This is where you'll be staying.
She began to feel claustrophobic. What if I don't want to stay? What if I want to get out of here?
She walked over to the door. It was locked. Ashley sat down on the couch, trying to organize her thoughts. She tried to concentrate on the positive. We're going to try to cure you.
We're going to try to cure you.
We're going to cure you.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Dr. Gilbert Keller was in charge of Ashley's therapy. His specialty was treating multiple personality disorder, and while he had had failures, his success rate was high. In cases like this, there were no easy answers. His first job was to get the patient to trust him, to feel comfortable with him, and then to bring out the alters, one by one, so that in the end they could communicate with one another and understand why they existed, and finally, why there was no more need for them. That was the moment of blending, when the personality states came together as a single entity.
We're a long way from that. Dr. Keller thought.
The following morning, Dr. Keller had Ashley brought to his office.
"Good morning, Ashley."
"Good morning. Dr. Keller."
"I want you to call me Gilbert. We're going to be friends. How do you feel?"
She looked at him and said, "They tell me I've killed five people. How should I feel?"
"Do you remember killing any of them?"
"No."
"I read the transcript of your trial, Ashley. You didn't kill them. One of your alters did. We're going to get acquainted with your alters, and in time, with your help we'll make them disappear."
"I-I hope you can-"
"I can. I'm here to help you, and that's what I'm going to do. The alters were created in your mind to save you from an unbearable pain. We have to find out what caused that pain. I need to find out when those alters were born and why."
"How-how do you do that?"
"We'll talk. Things will come to you. From time to time, we'll use hypnotism or Sodium Amytal. You've been hypnotized before, haven't you?"
"Yes."
"No one's going to pressure you. We're going to take our time." He added reassuringly, "And when we're through, you're going to be well."
They talked for almost an hour. At the end of that time, Ashley felt much more relaxed. Back in her room, she thought, I really think he can do it. And she said a little prayer.
Dr. Keller had a meeting with Otto Lewison. "We talked this morning," Dr. Keller said. "The good news is that Ashley admits she has a problem, and she's willing to be helped."
"That's a beginning. Keep me informed."
"I will, Otto."
Dr. Keller was looking forward to the challenge ahead of him. There was something very special about Ashley Patterson. He was determined to help her.
They talked every day, and a week after Ashley arrived, Dr. Keller said, "I want you to be comfortable and relaxed. I'm going to hypnotize you." He moved toward her.
"No! Wait!"
He looked at her, surprised. "What's the matter?"
A dozen terrible thoughts flashed through Ashley's head. He was going to bring out her alters. She was terrified of the idea. "Please," she said. "I-I don't want to meet them."
"You won't," Dr. Keller assured her. "Not yet."
She swallowed. "All right."
"Are you ready?"
She nodded. "Yes."
"Good. Here we go."
It took fifteen minutes to hypnotize her. When she was under, Gilbert Keller glanced at a piece of paper on his desk. Toni Prescott and Alette Peters. It was time for switching, the process of changing from one dominating personality state to another.
He looked at Ashley, asleep in her chair, then leaned forward. "Good morning, Tonni. Can you hear me?"
He watched Ashley's face transform, taken over by an entirely different personality. There was a sudden vivacity in her face. She began to sing:
"Half a pound of tupenny rice,
Half a pound of treacle,
Mix it up and make it nice,
Pop! goes the weasel..."
"That was very nice, Toni. I'm Gilbert Keller."
"I know who you are," Toni said.
"I'm glad to meet you. Did anyone ever tell you that you have a beautiful singing voice?"
"Sod off."
"I mean it. Did you ever take singing lessons? I'll bet you did."
"No, I didn't. As a matter of fact, I wanted to, but my"-For God's sakes, will you stop that terrible noise! Whoever told you you could sing?-"never mind."
"Toni, I want to help you."
"No, you don't, Dockie baby. You want to lay me."
"Why do you think that, Toni?"
"That's all you bloody men ever want to do. Ta."
"Toni...? Toni...?"
Silence.
Gilbert Keller looked at Ashley's face again. It was serene. Dr. Keller leaned forward.
"Alette?" There was no change in Ashley's expression. "Alette...?"
Nothing.
"I want to speak to you, Alette."
Ashley began to stir uneasily.
"Come out, Alette."
Ashley took a deep breath, and then there was a sudden explosion of words spoken in Italian.
"C'i qualcuno che parla Italuaw?"
"Alette-"
"Non so dove mi trovo"
"Alette, listen to me. You're safe. I want you to relax."
"Mi sento stanca.... I'm tired."
"You've been through a terrible time, but all that is behind you. Your future is going to be very peaceful. Do you know where you are?"
His voice was white.
"Si. It's some kind of place for people who are pazzo." That's why you're here, Doctor. You're the crazy one.
"It's a place where you're going to be cored. Alette, when you close your eyes and visualize this place, what comes to your mind?"
"Hogarth. He painted insane asylums and scenes that are terrifying." You're too ignorant ever to have heard of him.
"I don't want you to think of this place as terrifying. Tell me about yourself, Alette. What do you like to do? What would you like to do while you're here?"
"I like to paint."
"We'll have to get you some paints."
"No!"
"Why?"
"I don't want to."
"What do you call that, child? It looks like an ugly blob to me."
Leave me alone.
"Alette?" Gilbert Keller watched Ashley's face change again.
Alette was gone. Dr. Keller awakened Ashley.
She opened her eyes and blinked. "Have you started?"
"We've finished."
"How did I do?"
"Toni and Alette talked to me. We've made a good beginning, Ashley."
The letter from David Singer read:
Dear Ashley,
Just a note to let you know that I'm thinking about you and hoping that you're making good progress. As a matter of fact, I think about you often. I feel as though we've gone through the wars together. It was a tough fight, but we won. And I have good news. I've been assured that the murder charges against you in Bedford and Quebec will be dropped. If there is anything I can do for you, let me know.
Warmest wishes,
David
The following morning, Dr. Keller was talking to Toni while Ashley was under hypnosis.
"What is it now, Dockie?"
"I just want to have a little chat with you. I'd like to help you."
"I don't need your bloody help. I'm doing fine."
"Well, I need your help, Toni. I want to ask you a question. What do you think of Ashley?"
"Miss Tight Ass? Don't get me started."
"You don't like her?"
"In spades."
"What don't you like about her?"
There was a pause. "She tries to keep everybody from having fun. If I didn't take over once in a while, our lives would be boring. Boring. She doesn't like to go to parties or travel or do any fun things."
"But you do?"
"You bet I do. That's what life's all about, isn't it, luv?"
"You were born in London, weren't you, Toni? Do you want to tell me about it?"
"I'll tell you one thing. I wish I were there now."
Silence.
"Toni...? Toni...?"
She was gone.
Gilbert Keller said to Ashley, "I'd like to speak to Alette." He watched the expression on Ashley's face change. He leaned forward and said softly, "Alette."
"Si."
"Did you hear my conversation with Toni?"
"Yes."
"Do you and Toni know each other?"
"Yes." 0f course we do, stupid.
"But Ashley doesn't know either of you?"
"No."
"Do you like Ashley?"
"She's all right." Why are you asking me all these foolish questions?
"Why don't you talk to her?"
"Toni does not want me to."
"Does Toni always tell you what to do?"
"Toni is my friend." It's none of your business.
"I want to be your friend, Alette. Tell me about yourself. Where were you born?"
"I was born in Rome."
"Did you like Rome?"
Gilbert Keller watched the expression on Ashley's face change, and she began to weep.
Why? Dr. Keller leaned forward and said soothingly, "It's all right. You're going to awaken now. Ashley...."
She opened her eyes.
"I talked to Toni and Alette. They're friends. I want you all to be friends."
While Ashley was at lunch, a male nurse walked into her room and saw a painting of a landscape on the floor. He studied it a moment, then took it to Dr. Keller's office.
There was a meeting in Dr. Lewison's office.
"How's it going, Gilbert?"
Dr. Keller said thoughtfully, "I've talked to the two alters. The dominant one is Toni. She has an English background and won't talk about it. The other one, Alette, was born in Rome, and she doesn't want to talk about it, either. So that's where I'm going to concentrate. That's where the traumas occurred. Toni is the more aggressive one. Alette is sensitive and withdrawn. She's interested in painting, but she's afraid to pursue it. I have to find out why."
"So you think Toni dominates Ashley?"
"Yes. Toni takes over. Ashley wasn't aware that she exists, or for that matter, that Alette existed. But Toni and Alette know each other. It's interesting. Toni has a lovely singing voice, and Alette is a talented painter." He held up the painting that the male nurse had brought him. "I think their talents may be the key to getting through to them."
Ashley received a letter from her father once a week. After she read them, she would sit in her room quietly, not wanting to talk to anyone.
"They're her only link to home," Dr. Keller said to Otto Lewison. "I think it increases her desire to get out of here and start leading a normal life. Every little bit helps...."
Ashley was becoming used to her surroundings. The patients seemed to walk about, although there were attendants at every door and in the corridors. The gates to the grounds were always locked. There was a recreation room where they could gather and watch television, a gymnasium where inmates could work out and a common dining room. There were many kinds of people there: Japanese, Chinese, French, Americans.... Every effort had been made to make the hospital as ordinary- looking as possible, but when Ashley went to her room, the doors were always locked behind her.
"This isn't a hospital," Toni complained to Alette. "It's a bloody prison."
"But Dr. Keller thinks he can cure Ashley. Then we can get out of here."
"Don't be stupid, Alette. Don't you see? The only way he can cure Ashley is to get rid of us, make us disappear. In other words, to cure her, we have to die. Well, I'm not going to let that happen."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to find a way for us to escape."

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

The following morning a male nurse was escorting Ashley back to her room. He said, "You seem different today."
"Do I, Bill?"
"Yeah. Almost like another person." Toni said softly, "That's because of you."
"What do you mean?"
"You make me feel different." She touched his arm and looked into his eyes. "You make me feel wonderful."
"Come on."
"I mean it. You're very sexy. Do you know that?"
"No."
"Well, you are. Are you married. Bill?"
"I was, once."
"Your wife was mad to ever let you go. How long have you worked here, Bill?"
"Five years."
"That's a long time. Do you ever feel you want to get out of here?"
"Sometimes, sure."
Toni lowered her voice. "You know there's nothing really wrong with me. I admit I had a little problem when I came in, but I'm cured now. I'd like to get out of here, too. I'll bet you could help me. The two of us could leave here together. We'd have a wonderful time."
He studied her a moment. "I don't know what to say."
"Yes, you do. Look how simple it would be. All you have to do is let me out of here one night when everyone's asleep, and we'll be on our way." She looked over at him and said softly, "I'll make it worth your while."
He nodded. "Let me think about it."
"You do that," Toni said confidently.
When Toni returned to the room, she said to Alette, "We're getting out of this place."
The following morning, Ashley was escorted into Dr. Keller's office.
"Good morning, Ashley."
"Good morning, Gilbert."
"We're going to try some Sodium Amytal this morning. Have you ever had it?"
"No."
"Well, you'll find it's very relaxing."
Ashley nodded. "All right. I'm ready."
Five minutes later. Dr. Keller was talking to Toni.
"Good morning, Toni."
"Hi, Dockie."
"Are you happy here, Toni?"
"It's funny you should ask that. To tell you the truth, I'm really beginning to like this place. I feel at home here."
"Then why do you want to escape?"
Toni's voice hardened. "What?"
"Bill tells me that you asked him to help you escape from here."
"That son of a bitch!" There was fury in her voice. She flew out of the chair, ran over to the desk, picked up a paperweight and flung it at Dr. Keller's head.
He ducked.
"I'll kill you, and I'll kill him!"
Dr. Keller grabbed her. "Toni-"
He watched the expression on Ashley's face change. Toni had gone. He found that his heart was pounding.
"Ashley!"
When Ashley awakened, she opened her eyes, looked around, puzzled, and said, "Is everything all right?"
"Toni attacked me. She was angry because I found out she was trying to escape."
"I-I'm sorry. I had a feeling that something bad was happening."
"It's all right. I want to bring you and Toni and Alette together."
"No!"
"Why not?"
"I'm afraid. I-I don't want to meet them. Don't you understand? They're not real. They're my imagination."
"Sooner or later, you're going to have to meet them, Ashley. You have to get to know one another. It's the only way you're going to be cured."
Ashley stood up. "I want to go back to my room."
When she was returned to her room, Ashley watched the attendant leave. She was filled with a deep sense of despair. She thought. I'm never going to get out of here. They're lying to me. They can't cure me. She could not face the reality that other personalities were living inside of her.... Because of them, people had been murdered, families destroyed. Why me, God? She began to weep. What did I ever do to you? She sat down on the bed and thought, I can't go on like this. There's only one way to end it. I have to do it now.
She got up and walked around the small room, looking for something sharp. There was nothing. The rooms had been carefully designed so that there was nothing in them that would allow the patients to harm themselves.
As her eyes darted around the room, she saw the paints and canvas and paintbrushes and walked over to them. The handles of the paintbrushes were wooden. Ashley snapped one in half, exposing sharp, jagged edges. Slowly, she took the sharp edge and placed it on her wrist. In one fast, deep movement, she cut into her veins and her blood began to pour out. Ashley placed the jagged edge on her other wrist and repeated the movement. She stood there, watching the blood stain the carpet. She began to feel cold. She dropped to the floor and curled up into a fetal position.
And then the room went dark.
When Dr. Gilbert Keller heard the news, he was shocked. He went to visit Ashley in the infirmary. Her wrists were heavily bandaged. Watching her lying there, Dr. Keller thought, I can't ever let this happen again.
"We almost lost you," he said. "It would have made me look bad."
Ashley managed a wry smile. "I'm sorry. But everything seems so-so hopeless."
"That's where you're wrong," Dr. Keller assured her. "Do you want to be helped, Ashley?"
"Yes."
"Then you have to believe in me. You have to work with me. I can't do it alone. What do you say?"
There was a long silence. "What do you want me to do?"
"First, I want a promise from you that you'll never try to harm yourself again."
"All right. I promise."
"I'm going to get the same promise now from Toni and Alette. I'm going to put you to sleep now."
A few minutes later. Dr. Keller was speaking to Toni.
"That selfish bitch tried to kill us all. She thinks only about herself. Do you see what I mean?"
"Toni-"
"Well, I'm not having it. I-"
"Will you be quiet and listen to me?"
"I'm listening."
"I want you to promise that you'll never harm Ashley."
"Why should I promise?"
"I'll tell you why. Because you're part of her. You were born out of her pain. I don't know yet what you've had to go through, Toni, but I know that it must have been terrible. But you have to realize that she went through the same thing, and Alette was born for the same reason as you. The three of you have a lot in common. You should help each other, not hate each other. Will you give me your word?"
Nothing.
"Toni?"
"I suppose so," she said grudgingly.
"Thank you. Do you want to talk about England now?"
"No."
"Alette. Are you there?"
"Yes." Where do you think I am, stupid?
"I want you to make me the same promise that Toni did. Promise never to harm Ashley."
That's the only one you care about, isn't it? Ashley,
Ashley, Ashley. What about us?
"Alette?"
"Yes. I promise."
The months were going by, and there were no signs of progress. Dr. Keller sat at his desk, reviewing notes, recalling sessions, trying to find a clue to what was wrong. He was taking care of half a dozen other patients, but he found that it was Ashley he was most concerned about. There was such an incredible chasm between her innocent vulnerability and the dark forces that were able to take over her life. Every time he talked to Ashley, he had an overpowering urge to try to protect her. She's like a daughter to me, he thought. Who am I kidding? I'm falling in love with her.

Dr. Keller went to see Otto Lewison. "I have a problem, Otto."
"I thought that was reserved for our patients."
"This involves one of our patients. Ashley Patterson."
"Oh?"
"I find that I'm-I'm very attracted to her."
"Reverse transference?"
"Yes."
"That could be very dangerous for both of you, Gilbert."
"I know."
"Well, as long as you're aware of it... Be careful."
"I intend to."
november.
I gave Ashley a diary this morning.
"I want you and Toni and Alette to use this, Ashley. You can keep it in your room. Anytime that any of you has any thoughts or ideas that you prefer to write down instead of talking to me, just put them down."
"All right, Gilbert."
A month later. Dr. Keller wrote in his diary:
december
The treatment is at a standstill. Toni and Alette refuse to discuss the past. It is becoming more difficult to persuade Ashley to undergo hypnosis.
march
The diary is still blank. I'm not sure whether the most resistance is coming from Ashley or Toni. When I do hypnotize Ashley, Toni and Alette come out very briefly. They are adamant about not discussing the past.
june
I meet with Ashley regularly, but I feel there's no progress. The diary is still untouched. I have given Alette an easel and a set of paints. I am hoping that if she begins to paint, there may be a breakthrough.
JULY
Something happened, but I'm not sure if it's a sign of progress. Alette painted a beautiful picture of the hospital grounds. When I complimented her on it, she seemed pleased. That evening the painting was torn to shreds.
Dr. Keller and Otto Lewison were having coffee. "I think I'm going to try a little group therapy," Dr. Keller said. "Nothing else seems to be working."
"How many patients did you have in mind?"
"Not more than half a dozen. I want her to start interacting with other people. Right now she's living in a world of her own. I want her to break out of that."
"Good idea. It's worth a try."
Dr. Keller led Ashley into a small meeting room. There were six people in the room.
"I want you to meet some friends," Dr. Keller said.
He took Ashley around the room introducing them, but Ashley was too self-conscious to listen to their names. One name blurred into the next. There was Fat Woman, Bony Man, Bald Woman, Lame Man, Chinese Woman and Gentle Man. They all seemed very pleasant.
"Sit down," Bald Woman said. "Would you like some coffee?"
Ashley took a seat. "Thank you."
"We've heard about you," Gentle Man said. "You've been through a lot."
Ashley nodded.
Bony Man said, "I guess we've all been through a lot, but we're being helped. This place is wonderful."
"They have the best doctors in the world," Chinese Woman said.
They all seem so normal, Ashley thought.
Dr. Keller sat to one side, monitoring the conversations. Forty-five minutes later he rose. "I think it's time to go, Ashley."
Ashley stood up. "It was nice meeting all of you."
Lame Man walked up to her and whispered, "Don't drink the water here. It's poisoned. They want to kill us and still collect the money from the state."
Ashley gulped. "Thanks. I'll- I'll remember."
As Ashley and Dr. Keller walked down the corridor, she said, "What are their problems?"
"Paranoia, schizophrenia, MPD, compulsive disoders. But, Ashley, their improvement since they came here has been remarkable. Would you like to chat with them regularly?"
"No."
Dr. Keller walked into Otto Lewison's office.
"I'm not getting anywhere," he confessed. The group therapy didn't work, and the hypnotism sessions aren't working at all. I want to try something different."
"What?"
"I need your permission to take Ashley to dinner off the grounds."
"I don't think that's a good idea, Gilbert. It could be dangerous. She's already-"
"I know. But right now I'm the enemy. I want to become a friend."
"Her alter, Toni, tried to kill you once. What if she tries again?"
"I'll handle it."
Dr. Lewison thought about it. "All right. Do you want someone to go with you?"
"No. I'll be fine, Otto."
"When do you want to start this?"
"Tonight."
'You want to take me out to dinner?"
"Yes. I think it would be good for you to get away from this place for a while, Ashley. What do you say?"
"Yes."
* * *
Ashley was surprised at bow excited she was at the thought of going out to dinner with Gilbert Keller. It will be fun to get out of here for an evening, Ashley thought. But she knew that it was more than that. The thought of being with Gilbert Keller on a date was exhilarating.
They were having dinner at a Japanese restaurant called Otani Gardens, five miles from the hospital. Dr. Keller knew that he was taking a risk. At any moment, Toni or Alette could take over. He had been warned. It's more important that Ashley learns to trust me so that I can help her.
"It's funny, Gilbert," Ashley said, looking around the crowded restaurant.
"What is?"
"These people don't look any different from the people at the hospital."
"They aren't really different, Ashley. I'm sure they all have problems. The only difference is the people at the hospital aren't able to cope with them as well, so we help them."
"I didn't know I had any problems until- Well, you know."
"Do you know why, Ashley? Because you buried them. You couldn't face what happened to you, so you built the fences in your mind and shut the bad things away. To one degree or another, a lot of people do that." He deliberately changed the subject. "How's your steak?"
"Delicious, thank you."
From then on, Ashley and Dr. Keller had meals away from the hospital once a week. They had lunch at an excellent little Italian restaurant called Banducci's and dinners at The Palm, Eveleene's and The Gumbo Pot Neither Toni nor Alette made an appearance.
One night, Dr. Keller took Ashley dancing. It was at a small nightclub with a wonderful band.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked.
"Very much. Thank you." She looked at him and said, "You're not like other doctors."
"They don't dance?"
"You know what I mean."
He was holding her close, and both of them felt the urgency of the moment.
"That could be very dangerous for both of you, Gilbert...."

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

I know what the bloody hell you're trying to do, Dockie. You're trying to make Ashley think you're her friend."
"I am her friend, Toni, and yours."
"No, you're not. You think she's great, and I'm nothing."
"You're wrong. I respect you and Alette as much as I respect Ashley. You're all equally important to me."
"Is that true?"
"Yes. Toni, when I told you that you had a beautiful singing voice, I meant it. Do you play an instrument?"
"Piano."
"If I could arrange for you to use the piano in the recreation hall so you can play and sing, would you be interested?"
"I might be." She sounded excited.
Dr. Keller smiled. "Then I'll be happy to do it. It will be there for you to use."
"Thanks."
Dr. Keller arranged for Toni to have private access to the recreation room for one hour every afternoon. In the beginning, the doors were closed, but as other inmates heard the piano music and the singing from inside, they opened the door to listen. Soon, Toni was entertaining dozens of patients.
Dr. Keller was looking over his notes with Dr. Lewison.
Dr. Lewison said, "What about the other one-Alette?"
"I've set it up for her to paint in the garden every afternoon. She'll be watched, of course. I think it's going to be good therapy."
But Alette refused. In a session with her, Dr. Keller said, "You don't use the paints I gave you, Alette. It's a shame to let them go to waste. You're so talented."
How would you know?
"Don't you enjoy painting?"
"Yes."
"Then why don't you do it?"
"Because I'm no good." Stop pestering me.
"Who told you that?"
"My-my mother."
"We haven't talked about your mother. Do you want to tell me about her?"
"There's nothing to tell."
"She died in an accident, didn't she?"
There was a long pause. "Yes. She died in an accident."
The following day, Alette started to paint. She enjoyed being in the garden with her canvas and brushes. When she painted, she was able to forget everything else. Some of the patients would gather around bar and watch. They talked in multicolored voices.
"Your paintings should be in a gallery." Black.
"You're really good." Yellow.
"Where did you learn to do that?" Black.
"Can you paint a picture of me sometime?" Orange.
"I wish I knew how to do that." Black.
She was always sorry when her time was up and she had to go back into the big building.
"I want you to meet someone, Ashley. This is Lisa Garrett." She was a woman in her fifties, small and wraithlike. "Lisa is going home today."
The woman beamed. "Isn't that wonderful? And I owe it all to Dr. Keller."
Gilbert Keller looked at Ashley and said, "Lisa suffered from MPD and had thirty alters."
"That's right, dear. And they're all gone."
Dr. Keller said pointedly, "She's the third MPD patient leaving us this year."
And Ashley felt a surge of hope.
Alette said, "Dr. Keller is sympathetic. He really seems to like us."
"You're bloody stupid," Toni scoffed. "Don't you see what's happening? I told you once. He's pretending to like us so we'll do what he wants us to do. And do you know what that is? He wants to bring us all together, luv, and then convince Ashley that she doesn't need us. And do you know what happens then? You and I die. Is that what you want? I don't."
"Well, no," Alette said hesitantly. "Then listen to me. We go along with the doctor. We make him believe that we're really trying to help him. We string him along. We're in no hurry. And I promise you that one day I'll get us out of here."
"Whatever you say, Toni."
"Good. So we'll let old Dockie think he's doing just great."
A letter arrived from David. In tile envelope was a photograph of a small boy. The letter read:
Dear Ashley,
I hope that you're coming along well and that the therapy is progressing. Everything's fine here. I'm working hard and enjoying it. Enclosed is a photograph of our two-year-old, Jeffrey. At the rate he's growing, in a few inmates, he'll be getting married. There's no real news to report. I just wanted you to know that I was thinking about you.
Sandra joins me in sending our warm regards,
David

Ashley studied the photograph. He's a beautiful little boy, she thought. I hope he has a happy life.
She went to lunch, and when she returned, the photograph was on the floor of her room, torn to bits.
June 15, 1:30 p.m.
Patient: Ashley Patterson. Therapy session using Sodium Amytal. Alter, Alette Peters.
"Tell me about Rome, Alette."
"It's the most beautiful city in the world. It's filled all the great museums. I used to visit all of them." What 'could you know about museums?
"And you wanted to be a painter?"
"Yes." What did you think I wanted to be, a firefighter?
"Did you study painting?"
"No, I didn't." Can't you go bother someone else?
"Why not? Because of what your mother told you?"
"Oh, no. I just decided that I wasn't good enough." Toni, get him away from me!
"Did you have any traumas during that period? Did any terrible things happen to you that you can recall?"
"No. I was very happy." Toni!
August 15, 9:00 a.m.
Patient: Ashley Patterson. Hypnotherapy session with alter, Toni Prescott.
"Do you want to talk about London, Toni?"
"Yes. I had a lovely time there. London is so civilized. There's so much to do there."
"Did you have any problems?"
"Problems? No. I was very happy in London."
"Nothing had happened there at all that you remember?"
"Of course not." What are you going to make of that, you willy?
Each session brought back memories to Ashley. When she went to bed at night, she dreamed that she was at Global Computer Graphics. Shane Miller was there, and he was complimenting her on some work she had done. "We couldn't get along without you, Ashley. We're going to keep you here forever." Then the scene shifted to a prison cell, and Shane Miller was saying, "Well, I hate to do this now, but under the circumstances, the company is terminating you. Naturally, we can't afford to be connected with anything like this. You understand, don't you? There's nothing personal in this."
In the morning, when Ashley awakened, her pillow I was wet with tears.
Alette was saddened by the therapy sessions. They reminded her of how much she missed Rome and how happy she had been with Richard Melton. We could have had such a happy life together, but now it is too late. Too late.
Toni hated the therapy sessions because they brought back too many bad memories for her, too. Everything she had done had been to protect Ashley and Alette. But did anybody appreciate her? No. She was locked away as though she were some kind of criminal. But I'll get out of here, Toni promised herself. I'll get out of here.
The pages of the calendar were wiped away by time, and another year came and went. Dr. Keller was getting more and more frustrated.
"I've read your latest report," Dr. Lewison told Gilbert Keller. "Do you think there's a genuine lacuna, or are they playing games?"
"They're playing games, Otto. It's as though they know what I'm trying to do, and they won't let me. I think Ashley genuinely wants to help, but they won't allow her to. Usually under hypnosis you can get through to them, but Toni is very strong. She takes complete control, and she's dangerous."
"Dangerous?"
"Yes. Imagine how much hatred she must have in her to murder and castrate five men."
The rest of the year went no better.
Dr. Keller was having success with his other patients, but Ashley, the one he was most concerned about, was making no progress. Dr. Keller had a feeling that Toni enjoyed playing games with him. She was determined that he was not going to succeed. And then, unexpectedly, there was a breakthrough.
It started with another letter from Dr. Patterson.
June 5
Dear Ashley,
I'm on my way to New York to take care of some business, and I would like very much to stop by and see you. I will call Dr. Lewison, and if there's no objection, you can expect me around the 25th.
Much love,
Father

Three weeks later, Dr. Patterson arrived with attractive, dark-haired woman in her early forties and three-year-old daughter, Katrina.
They were ushered into Dr. Lewison's office. He rose as they entered. "Dr. Patterson, I'm delighted to meet you."
"Thank you. This is Miss Victoria Aniston and her daughter, Katrina."
"How do you do, Miss Aniston? Katrina."
"I brought them along to meet Ashley."
"Wonderful. She's with Dr. Keller right now, but they should be finished soon."
Dr. Patterson said, "How is Ashley doing?"
Otto Lewison hesitated. "I wonder if I could speak to you alone for a few minutes?"
"Certainly."
Dr. Patterson turned to Victoria and Katrina. "It looks like there's a beautiful garden out there. Why don't you wait for me, and I'll join you with Ashley."
Victoria Aniston smiled. "Fine." She looked over at Otto Lewison. "It was nice to meet you, Doctor."
"Thank you, Miss Aniston."
Dr. Patterson watched the two of them leave. He turned to Otto Lewison. "Is there a problem?"
"I'll be frank with you, Dr. Patterson. We're not making as much progress as I had hoped we would. Ashley says she wants to be helped, but she's not cooperating with us. In fact, she's fighting the treatment."
Dr. Patterson was studying him, puzzled. "Why?"
"It's not that unusual. At some stage, patients with MPD are afraid of meeting their alters. It terrifies them. The very thought that other characters can be living in their mind and body and take over at will- Well, you can imagine how devastating that can be."
Dr. Patterson nodded. "Of course."
"There's something that puzzles us about Ashley's problem. Almost always, these problems start with a history of molestation when the patient is very young. We have no record of anything like that in Ashley's case, so we have no idea how or why this trauma began."
Dr. Patterson sat there silently for a moment. When he spoke, he said heavily, "I can help you." He took a deep breath. "I blame myself."
Otto Lewison was watching intently.
"It happened when Ashley was six. I had to go to England. My wife couldn't go. I took Ashley with me. My wife had an elderly cousin over there named John. I didn't realize it at the time, but John had... emotional problems. I had to leave to give a lecture one day, and John offered to baby-sit. When I got back that evening, he was gone. Ashley was in a state of complete hysteria. It took a long, long time to calm her down. After that, she wouldn't let anyone come near her, she became timid and withdrawn and a week later, John was arrested as a serial child molester." Dr. Patterson's face was filled with pain. "I never forgave myself. I never left Ashley alone with anyone after that."
There was a long silence. Otto Lewison said, "I'm terribly sorry. But I think you've given us the answer to what we've been looking for, Dr. Patterson. Now Dr. Keller will have something specific to work on."
"It's been too painful for me even to discuss before."
"I understand." Otto Lewison looked at his watch. "Ashley's going to be a little while. Why don't you join Miss Aniston in the garden, and I'll send Ashley out when she comes."
Dr. Patterson rose. "Thank you. I will."
Otto Lewison watched him leave. He could not wait to tell Dr. Keller what he had learned.
Victoria Aniston and Katrina were waiting for him. "Did you see Ashley?" Victoria asked.
"They'll send her out in a few minutes," Dr. Patterson said. He looked around the spacious grounds. "This is lovely, isn't it?"
Katrina ran up to him, "I want to go up to the sky again."
He smiled. "All right." He picked her up, threw her into the air and caught her as she came down.
"Higher!"
"Hang on. Here we go." He threw her up again and caught her, and she was screaming with delight.
"Again!"
Dr. Patterson's back was to the main building, so he did not see Ashley and Dr. Keller come out.
"Higher!" Katrina screamed.
Ashley stopped in the doorway, frozen. She watched her father playing with the little girl, and time seemed to fragment. Everything after that happened in slow motion.

There were flashes of a little girl being thrown into the air.... "Higher, Papa!"
"Hang on. Here we go."
And then the girl being tossed onto a bed...
A voice saying, "You'll like this...."
An image of the man getting into bed beside her. The little girl was screaming, "Stop it. No. Please, no."
The man was in the shadow. He was holding her down, and he was stroking her body. "Doesn't that feel good?"

And suddenly the shadow lifted, and Ashley could see the man's face. It was her father.
Looking at him now, in the garden, playing with the little girl, Ashley opened her mouth and began to scream, and could not stop.
Dr. Patterson, Victoria Aniston and Katrina turned around, startled.
Dr. Keller said quickly, "I'm terribly sorry. This is a bad day. Could you come back another time?" And he carried Ashley inside.
They had her in one of the emergency rooms.
"Her pulse is abnormally high," Dr. Keller said. "She's in a fugue state." He moved close to her and said, "Ashley, you have nothing to be frightened about. You're safe here. No one's going to hurt you. Just listen to my voice and relax... relax... relax...."
It took half an hour. "Ashley, tell me what happened. What upset you?"
"Father and the little girl..."
"What about them?"
It was Toni who answered. "She can't face it. She's afraid he's going to do to the little girl what he did to her."
Dr. Keller stared at her a moment. "What-what did he do to her?"

It was in London. She was in bed. He sat down next to her and said, "I'm going to make you very happy, baby," and began tickling her, and she was laughing. And then... he took her pajamas off, and he started playing with her. "Don't my hands feel good?" Ashley started screaming, "Stop it. Don't do that." But he wouldn't stop. He held her down and went on and on....

Dr. Keller asked, "Was that the first time it happened, Toni?"
"Yes."
"How old was Ashley?"
"She was six."
"And that's when you were born?"
"Yes. Ashley was too terrified to face it."
"What happened after that?"
Father came to her every night and got into bed with her." The words were pouring out now. "She couldn't stop him. When they got home, Ashley told Mother what happened, and Mother called her a lying little bitch.
"Ashley was afraid to go to sleep at night because she knew Papa was going to come to her room. He used to make her touch him and then play with himself. And he said to her, 'Don't tell anyone about this or I won't love you anymore.' She couldn't tell anyone. Mama and Papa were yelling at each other all the time, and Ashley thought it was her fault. She knew she had done something wrong, but she didn't know what. Mama hated her."
"How long did this go on?" Dr. Keller asked. "When I was eight..." Toni stopped. "Go on, Toni."
Ashley's face changed, and it was Alette sitting in the chair. She said, "We moved to Roma, where he did research at Policlinico Umberto Primo."
"And that's where you were born?"
"Yes. Ashley couldn't stand what happened one night, so I came to protect her."
"What happened, Alette?"
"Papa came into her room while she was asleep, and he was naked. And he crawled into her bed, and this time he forced himself inside her. She tried to stop him, but she couldn't. She begged him never to do it again, but he came to her every night. And he always said, "This is how a man shows a woman he loves her, and you're my woman, and I love you. You must never tell anyone about this.' And she could never tell anyone."
Ashley was sobbing, tears running down her cheeks.
It was all Gilbert Keller could do not to take her in his arms and hold her and tell her that he loved her and everything was going to be all right. But, of course, it was impossible. I'm her doctor.

When Dr. Keller returned to Dr. Lewison's office. Dr. Patterson, Victoria Aniston and Katrina had left.
"Well, this is what we've been waiting for," Dr. Keller told Otto Lewison. "We finally got a breakthrough. I know when Toni and Alette were born and why. We should see a big change from now on." Dr. Keller was right. Things began to move.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

The hypnotherapy session had begun. Once Ashley was under. Dr. Keller said, "Ashley, tell me about Jim Cleary."
"I loved Jim. We were going to run away together and get married."
"Yes...?"
"At the graduation party, Jim asked me if I would go to his house with him, and I... I said no. When he brought me home, my father was waiting up for us. He was furious. He told Jim to get out and stay out."
"What happened then?"
"I decided to go to Jim. I packed a suitcase and I started toward his house." She hesitated. "Halfway to his house, I changed my mind and I went back home. I-"
Ashley's expression started to change. She began to relax in her chair, and it was Toni sitting there. "Like hell she did. She went to his house, Dockie."

When she reached Jim Cleary's house, it was dark. "My folks will be away for the weekend." Ashley rang the doorbell. A few minutes later, Jim Cleary opened the door. He was in his pajamas.
"Ashley. " His face lit up in a grin. "You decided to come." He pulled her inside. "I came because I-"
"I don't care why you came. You're here." He put his arms around her and kissed her. "How about a drink?"
"No. Maybe some water." She was suddenly apprehensive.
"Sure. Come on. " He took her hand and led her into the kitchen. He poured a glass of water for her and watched her drink it. "You look nervous."
"I-I am."
"There's nothing to be nervous about. There's no chance that my folks will come back. Let's go upstairs."
"Jim, I don't think we should."
He came up behind her, his arms reaching for her breasts. She turned. "Jim..."
His lips were on hers, and he was forcing her against the kitchen counter.
"I'm going to make you happy, honey." It was her father saying, "I'm going to make you happy, honey."
She froze. She felt him pulling her clothes off and entering her as she stood there naked, silently screaming.
And the feral rage took over.
She saw the large butcher knife sticking out of a wooden block. She picked it up and began stabbing him in the chest, screaming, "Stop it, Father.... Stop it... Stop it... Stop it..."
She looked down, and Jim was tying on the floor, blood spurting out of him.
"You animal," she screamed. "You won't do this to anyone again. " She reached down and plunged the knife into his testicles.

At six o'clock in the morning, Ashley went to the railroad station to wait for Jim. There was no sign of him.
She was beginning to panic. What could have happened? Ashley heard the train whistle in the distance. She looked at her watch: 7:00. The train was pulling into the station. Ashley rose to her feet and looked around frantically. Something terrible has happened to him. A few minutes later, she stood there watching the train pull out of the station, taking her dreams with it.
She waited another half hour and then slowly headed home. That noon, Ashley and her father were on a plane to London....
The session was ending. Dr. Keller counted, "... four... five. You're awake now."
Ashley opened her eyes. "What happened?"
"Toni told me how she killed Jim Cleary. He was attacking you." Ashley's face went white. "I want to go to my room."
* * *
Dr. Keller reported to Otto Lewison. "We're really beginning to make some advances, Otto. Up to now, it's been a logjam, with each one of them afraid to make the first move. But they're getting more relaxed. We're going in the right direction, but Ashley is still afraid to face reality."
Dr. Lewison said, "She has no idea how these murders took place?"
"Absolutely none. She's completely blanked it out. Toni took over."
It was two days later. "Are you comfortable, Ashley?"
"Yes." Her voice sounded far away.
"I want us to talk about Dennis Tibble. Was he a friend of yours?"
"Dennis and I worked for the same company. We weren't really friends."
"The police report says that your fingerprints were found at his apartment."
"That's right. I went there because he wanted me to give him some advice."
"And what happened?"
"We talked for a few minutes, and he gave me a glass of wine with a drug in it."
"What's the next thing you remember?"
"I-I woke up in Chicago."
Ashley's expression began to change. In an instant, it was Toni talking to him. "Do you want to know what really happened...?"
"Tell me, Toni."
Dennis Tibble picked up the bottle of wine and said, "Let's get comfortable." He started leading her toward the bedroom. "Dennis, I don't want to-"
And they were in the bedroom, and he was taking off her clothes.
"I know what you want, baby. You want me to screw you. That's why you come up here."
She was fighting to get free. "Stop it, Dennis!"
"Not until I give you what you came here for. You're going to love it, baby. "
He pushed her onto the bed, holding her tightly, his hands moving down to her groin, it was her father's voice. "You're going to love it, baby." And he was forcing himself into her, again and again, and she was silently screaming, "No, Father. Stop" And then the unspeakable fury took over. She saw the wine bottle. She reached for it, smashed it against the edge of the table and jammed the ragged edge of the bottle into his back. He screamed and tried to get up, but she held him tightly while she kept ramming the broken bottle into him. She watched him roll onto the floor.
"Stop it," he whimpered.
"Do you promise to never do that again? Well, we'll make sure." She picked up the broken glass and reached for his groin."
Dr. Keller let a moment of silence pass. "What did you do after that, Toni?"
"I decided I'd better get out of there before the police came. I have to admit I was pretty excited. I wanted to get away from Ashley's boring life for a while, and I had a friend in Chicago, so I decided to go there. It turned out he wasn't home, so I did a little shopping, hit some of the bars and bad a good time."
"And what happened next?"
"I checked into a hotel and fell asleep." She shrugged. "From then on it was Ashley's party."
She awakened slowly, knowing something was wrong, terribly wrong. She felt as though she had been drugged. Ashley looked around the room and began to panic. She was tying in bed, naked, in some cheap hotel room. She had no idea where she was or how she had gotten there. She managed to sit up, and her head started to pound.
She got out of bed, walked into the tiny bathroom and stepped into the shower. She let the stream of hot water pound against her body, trying to wash away whatever terrible, dirty things had happened to her. What if he had gotten her pregnant? The thought of having his child was sickening. Ashley got out of the shower, dried herself and walked over to the closet. Her clothes were missing. The only things inside the closet were a black leather miniskirt, a cheap-looking tube top and a pair of spiked high-heeled shoes. She was repelled by the thought of putting the clothes on, but she had no choice. She dressed quickly and glanced in the mirror. She looked like a prostitute.
"Father. I-"
"What's wrong?"
"I'm in Chicago and-"
"What are you doing in Chicago?"
"I can't go into it now. I need on airline ticket to San Jose. I don't have any money with me. Can you help me?"
"Of course. Hold on.... There's an American Airlines plane leaving 0'Hare at ten-forty am.. Flight 407. There will be a ticket waiting for you at the check-in counter."

"Alette, can you hear me? Alette."
"I'm here. Dr. Keller."
"I want us to talk about Richard Melton. He was a friend of yours, wasn't he?"
"Yes. He was very... simp'atico. I was in love with him."
"Was he in love with you?"
"I think so, yes. He was an artist. We would go to museums together and look at all of the wonderful paintings. When I was with Richard I felt... alive. I think if someone had not killed him, then one day we would have been married."
"Tell me about the last time you were together."
"When we were walking out of a museum, Richard said, 'My roommate is at a party tonight. Why don't we stop at my place? I have some paintings I'd like to show you.' "
" 'Not yet, Richard.' "
" 'Whatever you say. I'll see you next weekend?' "
" 'Yes' "
"I drove away," Alette said. "And that was the last time I- "
Dr. Keller watched her face begin to take on Toni's animation.
"That's what she wants to think," Toni said. "That's not what happened."
"What did happen?" Dr. Keller asked.

She went to his apartment on Fell Street. It was small, but Richard's paintings made it look beautiful.
"It makes the room come alive, Richard."
"Thank you, Alette. "He took her in his arms. "I want to make love to you. You're beautiful."
"You're beautiful," her father said. And she froze. Because she knew the terrible thing that was going to happen. She was tying on the bed, naked, feeling the familiar pain of him entering her, tearing her apart.
And she was screaming, "No! Stop it, Father! Stop it!" And then the manic-depressive frenzy took over. She had no recollection of where she got the knife, but she was stabbing his body over and over, yelling at him, "I told you to stop it! Stop it!"

Ashley was writhing in her chair, screaming.
"It's all right, Ashley," Dr. Keller said. "You're safe. You're going to wake up now, at the count of five."
Ashley awoke, trembling. "Is everything all right?"
"Toni told me about Richard Melton. He made love to you. You thought it was your father, so you-"
She put her hands over her ears. "I don't want to hear any more!"
* * *
Dr. Keller went to see Otto Lewison.
"I think we're finally making the breakthrough. It's very traumatic for Ashley, but we're nearing the end. We still have two murders to retrieve."
"And then?"
"I'm going to bring Ashley, Toni and Alette together."

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Toni? Toni, can you hear me?" Dr. Keller watched Ashley's expression change.
"I hear you, Dockie."
"Let's talk about Jean Claude Parent."
"I should have known he was too good to be true."
"What do you mean?"
"In the beginning, he seemed like a real gentleman. He took me out every day, and we really had a good time. I thought he was different, but he was like all the others. All he wanted was sex."
"I see."
"He gave me a beautiful ring, and I guess he thought that he owned me. I went with him to his house."

The house was a beautiful two-story, redbrick house filled with antiques.
"It's lovely."
"There's something special I want to show you upstairs in the bedroom." And he was taking her upstairs, and she was powerless to stop him. They were in the bedroom, and he took her in his arms and whispered, "Get undressed."
"I don't want to-"
"Yes, you do. We both want it." He undressed her quickly, then laid her down on the bed and got on top of her. She was moaning, "Don't. Please don't. Father!"
But he paid no attention. He kept plunging into her until suddenly he said, "Ah," and then stopped. "You 're wonderful, " he said.
And the malevolent explosion shook her. She grabbed the sharp letter opener from the desk and plunged it into his chest, up and down and up and down.
"You won't do that to anyone again." She reached for his groin.
Afterward, she took a leisurely shower, dressed and went back to the hotel.

"Ashley..." Ashley's face began to change. "Wake up now."
Ashley slowly came awake. She looked at Dr. Keller and said, "Toni again?"
"Yes. She met Jean Claude on the Internet. Ashley, when you were in Quebec, were there periods when you seemed to lose time? When suddenly it was hours later or a day later, and you didn't know where the time had gone?"
She nodded slowly. "Yes. It-it happened a lot."
"That's when Toni took over."
"And that's when... when she-?"
"Yes."
The next few months were uneventful. In the afternoons, Dr. Keller would listen to Toni play the piano and sing, and he would watch Alette painting in the garden. There was one more murder to discuss, but he wanted Ashley to be relaxed before he started talking about it.
It had been five years now since she had come to the hospital. She's almost cured. Dr. Keller thought.
On a Monday morning, he sent for Ashley and watched her walk into the office. She was pale, as though she knew what she was facing.
"Good morning, Ashley."
"Good morning, Gilbert."
"How are you feeling?"
"Nervous. This is the last one, isn't it?"
"Yes. Let's talk about deputy Sam Blake. What was he doing in your apartment?"
"I asked him to come. Someone had written on my bathroom mirror, 'You Will Die.' I didn't know what to do. I thought someone was trying to kill me. I called the police, and deputy Blake came over. He was very sympathetic."
"Did you ask him to stay with you?"
"Yes. I was afraid to be alone. He said that he would spend the night, and then in the morning, he would arrange for twenty-four-hour protection for me. I offered to sleep on the couch and let him sleep in the bedroom, but he said he would sleep on the couch. I remember he checked the windows to make sure they were locked, and then he double-bolted the door. His gun was on the table next to the couch. I said good night and went into the bedroom and closed the door."
"And then what happened?"
"I- The next thing I remember is being awakened by someone screaming in the alley. Then the sheriff came in to tell me that deputy Blake had been found dead." She stopped, her face pale.
"All right. I'm going to put you to sleep now. Just relax.... Close your eyes and relax...." It took ten minutes. Dr. Keller said, "Toni..."
"I'm here. You want to know what really happened, don't you? Ashley was a fool to invite Sam to stay at the apartment. I could have told her what he would do."

He heard a cry from the bedroom, quickly rose from the couch and scooped up his gun. He hurried over to the bedroom door and listened a moment. Silence. He had imagined it. As he started to turn away, he heard it again. He pushed the door open, gun in hand. Ashley was in bed, naked, asleep. There was no one else in the room. She was making little moaning sounds. He moved to her bedside. She looked beautiful tying there, curled up in a fetal position. She moaned again, trapped in some terrible dream. He meant only to comfort her, to take her in his arms and hold her. He lay down at her side and gently pulled her toward him, and he felt the heat of her body and began to be aroused. She was awakened by his voice saying, "It's all right now. You're safe." And his lips were on hers, and he was moving her legs apart and was inside her.
And she was screaming, "No, Father!"
And he moved faster and faster in a primal urgency, and then the savage revenge took over. She grabbed the knife from the dresser drawer at her bedside and began to slash into his body.

"What happened after you killed him?"
"She wrapped his body in the sheets and dragged him to the elevator and then through the garage to the alley in back."
"... and then," Dr. Keller told Ashley, "Toni wrapped his body in the sheets and dragged him into the elevator and through the garage to the alley in back."
Ashley sat there, her face dead white. "She's a mon- I'm a monster."
Gilbert Keller said, "No. Ashley, you must remember that Toni was born out of your pain, to protect you. The same is true of Alette. It's time to bring this to a closure. I want you to meet them. It's the next step to your getting well."
Ashley's eyes were tightly shut. "All right. When do we... do this?"
"Tomorrow morning."
Ashley was in a deep hypnotic state. Dr. Keller started with Toni.
"Toni, I want you and Alette to talk to Ashley."
"What makes you think she can handle us?"
"I think she can."
"All right, Dockie. Whatever you say."
"Alette, are you ready to meet Ashley?"
"If Toni says it's all right."
"Sure, Alette. It's about time."
Dr. Keller took a deep breath and said, "Ashley, I want you to say hello to Toni."
There was a long silence. Then, a timid, "Hello, Toni..."
"Hello."
"Ashley, say hello to Alette."
"Hello, Alette..."
"Hello, Ashley..."
Dr. Keller breathed a deep sigh of relief. "I want you all to get to know one another. You've suffered through the same terrible traumas. They've separated you from one another. But there's no reason for that separation anymore. You're going to become one whole, healthy person. It's a long journey, but you've begun it. I promise you, the most difficult part is over."
From that point on, Ashley's treatment moved swiftly. Ashley and her two alters talked to one another every day.
"I had to protect you," Toni explained. "I suppose every time I killed one of those men, I was killing Father for what he had done to you."
"I tried to protect you, too," Alette said. "I-I appreciate that. I'm grateful to both of you."
Ashley turned to Dr. Keller and said wryly, "It's really all me, isn't it? I'm talking to myself."
"You're talking to two other parts of yourself," he corrected her gently. "It's time for all of you to unify and become one again."
Ashley looked at him and smiled. "I'm ready."

That afternoon. Dr. Keller went to see Otto Lewison.
Dr. Lewison said, "I hear good reports, Gilbert."
Dr. Keller nodded. "Ashley's made remarkable progress. In another few months, I think she can be released and go on with her treatment as an outpatient."
"That's wonderful news. Congratulations."
I'll miss her. Dr. Keller thought. I'll miss her terribly.
"Dr. Salem is on line two for you, Mr. Singer."
"Right." David reached for the phone, puzzled. Why would Dr. Salem be calling? It had been years since the two men had talked. "Royce?"
"Good morning, David. I have some interesting information for you. It's about Ashley Patterson."
David felt a sudden sense of alarm. "What about her?"
"Do you remember how hard we tried to find the trauma that had caused her condition, and we failed?"
David remembered it well. It had been a major weakness in their case. "Yes."
"Well, I just learned the answer. My friend, Dr. Lewison, who's head of the Connecticut Psychiatric Hospital, just called. The missing piece of the puzzle is Dr. Steven Patterson. He's the one who molested Ashley when she was a child."
David asked incredulously, "What?"
"Dr. Lewison just learned about it."
David sat listening as Dr. Salem went on, but his mind was elsewhere. He was recalling Dr. Patterson's words. "You're the only one I trust, David. My daughter means everything in the world to me. You're going to save her life.... I want you to defend Ashley, and I won't have anyone else involved in this case...."
And David suddenly realized why Dr. Patterson had been so insistent on his representing Ashley alone. The doctor was sure that if David had ever discovered what he had done, he would have protected him. Dr. Patterson had had to decide between his daughter and his reputation, and he had chosen his reputation. The son of a bitch!
"Thanks, Royce."
That afternoon, as Ashley passed the recreation room, she saw a copy of the Westport News that someone had left there. On the front page of the newspaper was a photograph of her father with Victoria Aniston and Katrina. The beginning of the story read, "Dr. Steven Patterson is to be married to socialite Victoria Aniston, who has a three-year-old daughter from a previous marriage. Dr. Patterson is joining the staff of St. John's Hospital in Manhattan, and he and his future wife have bought a house on Long Island...."
Ashley stopped and her face contorted into a mask of rage. "I'll kill the son of a bitch," Toni screamed. "I'll kill him!"
She was completely out of control. They had to put her in a padded room where she could not hurt herself, restrained by handcuffs and leg-irons. When the attendants came to feed her, she tried to grab them, and they had to be careful not to get too close to her. Toni had taken total possession of Ashley.
When she saw Dr. Keller, she screamed, "Let me out of here, you bastard. Now!"
"We're going to let you out of here," Dr. Keller said soothingly, "but first you have to calm down."
"I'm calm," Toni yelled. "Let me go!" Dr. Keller sat on the floor beside her and said, "Toni, when you saw that picture of your father, you said you were going to hurt him, and-"
"You're a liar! I said I was going to kill him!"
"There's been enough killing. You don't want to stab anyone else."
"I'm not going to stab him. Have you heard of hydrochloric acid? It will eat through anything, including skin. Wait until I-"
"I don't want you to think like that."
"You're right. Arson! Arson is better. He won't have to wait until hell to burn to death. I can do it so they'll never catch me if-"
"Toni, forget about this."
"All right. I can think of some other ways that are even better."
He studied her a moment, frustrated. "Why are you so angry?"
"Don't you know? I thought you were supposed to be such a great doctor. He's marrying a woman with a teen-year-old daughter. What's going to happen to that little girl, Mr. Famous Doctor? I'll tell you what. The same thing that happened to us. Well, I'm going to stop it!"
"I'd hoped we'd gotten rid of all that hate."
"Hate? You want to hear about hate?"

It was raining, a steady downpour of raindrops flitting the roof of the speeding car. She looked at her mother sitting at the wheel, squinting at the road ahead, and she smiled, in a happy mood. She began to sing:

"All around the mulberry bush,
The monkey chased-"

Her mother turned to her and screamed, "Shut up. I told you I detest that song. You make me sick, you miserable little-"
After that, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The curve ahead, the car skidding off the road, the tree. The crash flung her out of the car. She was shaken, but unhurt. She got to her feet. She could hear her mother, trapped in the car, screaming, "Get me out of here. Help me! Help me!"
And she stood there watching until the car finally exploded.

"Hate? Do you want to hear more?"

Walter Manning said, "This has to be a unanimous decision. My daughter's a professional artist, not a dilettante. She did this as a favor. We can't turn her down.... This has to be unanimous. We're either giving him my daughter's painting or we don't give him anything at all."
She was parked at the curb, with the motor running. She watched Walter Manning cross the street, headed for the garage where he kept his car. She put the car in gear and slammed her foot down on the accelerator. At the last moment, he heard the sound of the car coming toward him, and he turned. She watched the expression on his face as the car smashed into him and then hurled his broken body aside. She kept driving. There were no witnesses. God was on her side.

"That's hate, Dockie! That's real hate!"
Gilbert Keller listened to her recital, appalled, shaken by the cold-blooded viciousness of it. He canceled the rest of his appointments for the day. He needed to be alone.
The following morning when Dr. Keller walked into the padded cell, Alette had taken over.
"Why are you doing this to me. Dr. Keller?" Alette asked. "Let me out of here."
"I will," Dr. Keller assured her. "Tell me about Toni. What has she told you?"
"She said we have to escape from here and kill Father."
Toni took over. "Morning, Dockie. We're fine now. Why don't you let us go?"
Dr. Keller looked into her eyes. There was cold-blooded murder there.
* * *
Dr. Otto Lewison sighed. "I'm terribly sorry about what's happened, Gilbert. Everything was going so well."
"Right now, I can't even reach Ashley."
"I suppose this means having to start the treatment all over."
Dr. Keller was thoughtful. "Not really, Otto. We've arrived at the point where the three alters have gotten to know one another. That was a big breakthrough. The next step was to get them to integrate. I have to find a way to do that."
"That damned article-"
"It's fortunate for us that Toni saw that article."
Otto Lewison looked at him in surprise. "Fortunate?"
"Yes. Because there's that residual hate in Toni. Now that we know it's there, we can work on it. I want to try an experiment. If it works, we'll be in good shape. If it doesn't"-he paused and added quietly-"then I think Ashley may have to be confined here for the rest of her life."
"What do you want to do?"
"I think it's a bad idea for Ashley's father to see her again, but I want to hire a national clipping service, and I want them to send me every article that appears about Dr. Patterson."
Otto Lewison blinked. "What's the point?"
"I'm going to show them all to Toni. Eventually, her hate has to bum itself out. That way I can monitor it and try to control it."
"It may take a long time, Gilbert."
"At least a year, maybe longer. But it's the only chance Ashley has."
Five days later Ashley had taken over.
When Dr. Keller walked into the padded cell, Ashley said, "Good morning, Gilbert. I'm sorry that all this happened."
"I'm glad it did, Ashley. We're going to get all of our feelings oat in the open." He nodded to the guard to remove the leg-irons and handcuffs.
Ashley stood up and rubbed her wrists. "That wasn't very comfortable," she said. They walked out into the corridor. "Toni's very angry."
"Yes, but she's going to get over it. Here's my plan...."
There were three or four articles about Dr. Steven Pat-terson every month. One read: "Dr. Steven Patterson is to wed Victoria Aniston in an elaborate wedding ceremony on Long Island this Friday. Dr. Patterson's colleagues will fly in to attend..."
Toni was hysterical when Dr. Keller showed the story to her.
"That marriage isn't going to last long."
"Why do you say that, Toni?"
"Because he's going to be dead."
"Dr. Steven Patterson has resigned from St. John's Hospital and will head the cardiac staff at Manhattan Methodist Hospital...."
"So he can rape all the little girls there," Toni screamed.
"Dr. Steven Patterson received the Lasker Award for his work in medicine and is being honored at the White House...."
"They should hang the bastard!" Toni yelled.
Gilbert Keller saw to it that Toni received all the articles written about her father. And as time went by, with each new item, Toni's rage seemed to be diminishing. It was as though her emotions had been worn out. She went from hatred to anger and, finally, to a resigned acceptance.
There was a mention in the real estate section. "Dr. Steven Patterson and his new bride have moved into a home in Manhattan, but they plan to purchase a second home in the Hamptons and will be spending their summers there with their daughter, Katrina."
Toni started sobbing. "How could he do that to us?"
"Do you feel that that little girl has taken your place, Toni?"
"I don't know. I'm-I'm confused."
Another year went by. Ashley had therapy sessions three times a week. Alette painted almost every day, but Toni refused to sing or play the piano.
At Christmas, Dr. Keller showed Toni a new clipping. There was a picture of her father and Victoria and Katrina.
The caption read: the pattersons celebrate CHRISTMAS IN THE HAMPTONS.
Toni said wistfully, "We used to spend Christmases together. He always gave me wonderful gifts." She looked at Dr. Keller. "He wasn't all bad. Aside from the-you know-he was a good father. I think he really loved me."
It was the first sign of a new breakthrough.
One day, as Dr. Keller passed the recreation room, he heard Toni singing and playing the piano. Surprised, he stepped into the room and watched her. She was completely absorbed in the music.
The next day, Dr. Keller had a session with Toni.
"Your father's getting older, Toni. How do you think you'll feel when he dies?"
"I-I don't want him to die. I know I said a lot of stupid things, but I said them because I was angry with him."
"You're not angry anymore?"
She thought about it. "I'm not angry, I'm hurt. I think you were right. I did feel that the little girl was taking my place." She looked up at Dr. Keller and said, "I was confused. But my father has a right to get on with his life, and Ashley has a right to get on with hers."
Dr. Keller smiled. We're back on track.
The three of them talked to one another freely now.
Dr. Keller said, "Ashley, you needed Toni and Alette because you couldn't stand the pain. How do you feel about your father now?"
There was a brief silence. She said slowly, "I can never forget what he did to me, but I can forgive him. I want to put the past behind me and start my future."
"To do that, we must make you all one again. How do you feel about that, Alette?"
Alette said, "If I'm Ashley, can I still go on painting?"
"Of course you can."
"Well, then, all right."
"Toni?"
"Will I still be able to sing and play the piano?"
"Yes," he said. "Then, why not?"
"Ashley?"
"I'm ready for all of us to be one. I-I want to thank them for helping me when I needed them."
"My pleasure, luv."
"Anche il mio," Alette said.
It was time for the final step: integration.
"All right I'm going to hypnotize you now, Ashley. I want you to say good-bye to Toni and Alette."
Ashley took a deep breath. "Good-bye, Toni. Goodbye, Alette."
"Good-bye, Ashley."
"Take care of yourself, Ashley."
Ten minutes later, Ashley was in a deep hypnotic state. "Ashley, there's nothing more to be afraid of. All your problems are behind you. You don't need anyone to protect you anymore. You're able to handle your life without help, without shutting out any bad experiences.
You're able to face whatever happens. Do you agree with me?"
"Yes, I do. I'm ready to face the future."
"Good. Toni?"
There was no answer.
"Toni?"
There was no answer.
"Alette?"
Silence.
"Alette?"
Silence.
"They're gone, Ashley. You're whole now and you're cured."
He watched Ashley's face light up.
"You'll awaken at the count of three. One... two... three..."
Ashley opened her eyes and a beatific smile lit her face. "It-it happened, didn't it?"
He nodded. "Yes."
She was ecstatic. "I'm free. Oh, thank you, Gilbert! I feel-I feel as though a terrible dark curtain has been taken away."
Dr. Keller took her hand. "I can't tell you how pleased I am. We'll be doing some more tests over the next few months, but if they turn out as I think they will, well, we'll be sending you home. I'll arrange for some outpatient treatment for you wherever you are." Ashley nodded, too overcome with emotion to speak.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

Over the next few months, Otto Lewison had three psychiatrists examine Ashley. They used hypnotherapy and Sodium Amytal.
"Hello, Ashley. I'm Dr. Montfort, and I need to ask you some questions. How do you feel about yourself?"
"I feel wonderful, Doctor. It's as though I've just gotten over a long illness."
"Do you think you're a bad person?"
"No. I know some bad things have happened, but I don't believe I'm responsible for them."
"Do you hate anyone?"
"No."
"What about your father? Do you hate him?"
"I did. I don't hate him anymore. I don't think he could help what he did. I just hope he's all right now."
"Would you like to see him again?"
"I think it would be better if I didn't. He has his life. I want to start a new life for myself."
"Ashley?"
"Yes."
"I'm Dr. Vaughn. I'd like to have a little chat with you."
"All right."
"Do you remember Toni and Alette?"
"Of course. But they're gone."
"How do you feel about them?"
"In the beginning, I was terrified, but now I know I needed them. I'm grateful to them."
"Do you sleep well at night?"
"Now I do, yes."
"Tell Me Your Dreams."
"I used to have terrible dreams; something was always chasing me. I thought I was going to be murdered."
"Do you still have those dreams?"
"Not anymore. My dreams are very peaceful. I see bright colors and smiling people. Last night, I dreamed I was at a ski resort, flying down the slopes. It was wonderful. I don't mind cold weather at all anymore."
"How do you feel about your father?"
"I want him to be happy, and I want to be happy."
"Ashley?"
"Yes."
"I'm Dr. Hoelterhoff."
"How do you do, Doctor?"
"They didn't tell me how beautiful you were. Do you think you're beautiful?"
"I think I'm attractive...."
"I hear that you have a lovely voice. Do you think you do?"
"It's not a trained voice, but, yes"-she laughed- "I do manage to sing on key."
"And they tell me you paint. Are you good?"
"For an amateur, I think I'm quite good. Yes."
He was studying her thoughtfully. "Do you have any problems that you would like to discuss with me?"
"I can't think of any. I'm treated very well here."
"How do you feel about leaving here and getting out into the world?"
"I've thought a lot about it. It's scary, but at the same time it's exciting."
"Do you think you would be afraid out there?"
"No. I want to build a new life. I'm good with computers. I can't go back to the company I worked for, but I'm sure I can get a job at another company."
Dr. Hoelterhoff nodded. "Thank you, Ashley. It was a pleasure talking to you."
Dr. Montfort, Dr. Vaughn, Dr. Hoelterhoff and Dr. Keller were gathered in Otto Lewison's office. He was studying their reports. When he finished, he looked up at Dr. Keller and smiled.
"Congratulations," he said. "These reports are all positive. You've done a wonderful job."
"She's a wonderful woman. Very special, Otto. I'm glad she's going to have her life back again."
"Has she agreed to outpatient treatment when she leaves here?"
"Absolutely."
Otto Lewison nodded. "Very well. I'll have the release papers drawn up." He turned to the other doctors. "Thank you, gentlemen. I appreciate your help."

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Two days later, she was called into Dr. Lewison's office. Dr. Keller was there. Ashley was to be discharged and would return to her home in Cupertino, where regular therapy and evaluation sessions had been arranged with a court approved psychiatrist.
Dr. Lewison said, "Well, today's the day. Are you excited?"
Ashley said, "I'm excited. I'm frightened. I'm-I don't know. I feel like a bird that's just been set free. I feel like I'm flying." Her face was glowing.
"I'm glad you're leaving, but I'm-I'm going to miss you," Dr. Keller said.
Ashley took his hand and said warmly, "I'm going to miss you, too. I don't know how I... how I can ever thank you." Her eyes filled with tears. "You've given me my life back."
She turned to Dr. Lewison. "When I'm back in California, I'll get a job at one of the computer plants there. I'll let you know how it works out and how I get on with the outpatient therapy. I want to make sure that what happened before never happens to me again."
"I don't think you have anything to worry about," Dr. Lewison assured her.
When she left. Dr. Lewison turned to Gilbert Keller. "This makes up for a lot of the ones that didn't succeed, doesn't it, Gilbert?"
It was a sunny June day, and as she walked down Madison Avenue in New York City, her radiant smile made people turn back to look at her. She had never been so happy. She thought of the wonderful life ahead of her, and all that she was going to do. There could have been a terrible ending for her, she thought, but this was the happy ending she had prayed for.
She walked into Pennsylvania Station. It was the busiest train station in America, a charmless maze of airless rooms and passages. The station was crowded with people. And each person has an interesting story to tell, she thought. They're all going to different places, living their own lives, and now. I'm going to live my own life.
She purchased a ticket from one of the machines. Her train was just pulling in. Serendipity, she thought.
She boarded the train and took a seat. She was filled with excitement at what was about to happen. The train gave a jerk and then started picking up speed. I'm on my way at last. And as the train headed toward the Hamptons, she began to sing softly:
"All around the mulberry bush,
The monkey chased the weasel.
The monkey thought 'twas oil in fun,
Pop! goes the weasel...."