Page 98 of The Perfect Son
“Yes.” Mum’s voice quivers as she pulls at her handkerchief again. I have a sudden desire to snatch it from her hand and throw it to the floor. It’s me who should be upset. It’s me who was stabbed, me who’s trapped in here. Mum should be out there trying to help Jamie.
I stare at Sadler. In the armchair his stoop is hidden, but even sitting, his large frame dwarfs the room. Sadler’s face is unreadable. We’ve talked for hours, for days, and yet we’ve made no progress. Why didn’t he tell me Jamie was safe? “Who are you?” I ask. “I know you’ve told my mum you’re a doctor. Why didn’t you tell me you’d found Jamie?”
“I am a doctor, Tess. I’m a psychiatrist. You assumed I was with the police, but I never told you I was. I allowed the assumption to continue so you would trust me enough to talk to me.”
“What?” I shake my head. “I don’t believe you. Mum, don’t listen to him.”
“Teresa, please.”
My eyes shoot to my mum’s face. Her eyes are watery and pleadingand her hands are shaking so much that the walking stick in her hand is jerking from side to side.
“Why have you brought my mum here? Surely you can see she’s in pain?”
“I am very sorry for any discomfort I’ve caused your mother, Tess, but when I spoke to her on the phone yesterday and explained the situation, she was more than willing to come.”
“Well, perhaps you could explain it to me then.”
“Certainly.” He nods.
“And while you’re at it, you can explain why Shelley is wandering around free as a bird when I’m the one stuck in here. You can explain to me where that nurse was taking Jamie.” I nod at the door and the corridor beyond. “When can I see him?”
“Why don’t we all have a cup of tea?” Sadler leans forward and pushes the cups to the edges of the tray and in reach for all of us. The liquid is creamy brown and steaming and makes me think of the hot chocolates Shelley made for me. Is Sadler trying to drug me now?
CHAPTER 63
You told me you were a police detective.” My teeth are clenched so hard it’s a fight to get the words out of my mouth. “This whole time I thought you were a policeman. If you’re a doctor then where is your stethoscope and white coat? I thought you were here to help me find Jamie.”
“I’m not that kind of doctor, but I am here to help you, Tess. I never told you I was a detective. You assumed, and I didn’t correct you. I wanted you to talk to me. I wanted to understand the depth of your illness. I’m sorry for your distress but I saw your assumption as a necessary omission of the facts.”
“What illness? What are you talking about?” My voice bounces around the room. I swallow. My throat is dry and sore from talking and crying.
“I believe you’ve suffered a psychotic breakdown, Tess, brought on by grief and depression.”
My mouth drops open. I want to protest but Sadler’s words are a brick wall in my thoughts. Psychotic breakdown? How can he think that? Sadler must be working with Shelley and Ian. Maybe the man is threatening them too. It’s the only explanation.
“Please,” I whisper as Mum’s shoulders begin to shake. Why didthey drag her into this? I force myself to calm down. Sadler wants me to be angry. They want to prove their theory right. They want to prove I’m an unfit mother so they can take Jamie away from me. “Please, I just want to see Jamie.”
My mum leans forward in her chair and covers her face with her hands, mottled and clawlike from the arthritis.
“Tess,” Sadler says, drawing my attention back to him. “I have Mark’s death certificate here. It was retrieved by Shelley when she collected your notebook. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like you to have a look at it for me.”
Tears are blurring my vision and leaking down my face. I reach out and take the envelope in my hands. The lip is creased from where it’s been opened before but the glue is still tacky as I peel it open.
The paper is thick and it has the symbol of a crown top and center.Certified Copy of an Entry of Deathis printed in bold at the top and your name is typed in neat Times New Roman.
I brush a finger over the letters of your name. I told Sadler that I hear your voice. That’s why he thinks I’ve gone mad. The thought makes me want to laugh out loud, but then I really would seem crazy. This is what all the fuss is about. They think I’m deluded about your death.
Relief, like a gust of cold wind from the fields, breezes through me.
“I know Mark is dead,” I say.
“Can you remember any more details about the trip he was going on when he died?” Sadler asks.
“It was a work thing. A team-building session. The head office was in Germany. He went there all the time. I don’t know why you keep asking me about the trip. There was nothing special about it.”
Sadler shifts forward in his chair before speaking again. “I want you to really think, Tess. I called Mark’s company and I spoketo Denise. I believe she came to visit you and you’ve spoken on the phone since.”
“Yes, Denise came to see me about a month after the funeral.” I nod, leaning back in my chair. The envelope is sitting on my lap and I fiddle with the lip, pushing it down and using the last of the stick to seal it shut.
