The Eumenide

“Murderer! Baby killer!”

Her eyes blazing with rage, the woman with streaming gray hair curled her hands threateningly into claws and flew at them. Reflexively, Anna threw up her arms to protect herself. Then she remembered it was the young woman next to her who was being attacked.

Two burly policemen grabbed the gray-haired woman just as she was about to pounce on Consuelo. They wrestled the woman to the floor, avoiding the sharp fingernails flailing at their eyes, and snapped a pair of handcuffs on her.

Roy Krueger, Consuelo’s lawyer, waddled out of the meeting room from which his client and Anna had just emerged. He shook his head as the officers lifted the woman to a standing position. “Damn! I knew it was a mistake to let that bitch come here! She was being too reasonable, telling me she’d just wait outside and not testify against you to the parole board!”

Krueger turned to Consuelo. “At least now we can lock her up on an assault charge, so she can’t try to hurt you again—”

“No!” Consuelo shouted. She was staring at the now strangely passive woman held by the two officers. Anna noticed Consuelo was trembling. From fear? Anxiety? Hard to say—even for a psychiatrist.

Consuelo pleaded, “Let her go!”

“What?” Krueger stared at her, his pudgy perspiring face flushed in disbelief. “If they hadn’t stopped her she’d have strangled you! If they let her go she’ll try again!”

“No, she won’t. She’d never hurt me. Would you?”

The gray-haired woman glared at Consuelo, and said nothing.

Consuelo turned to Anna. “Please, Dr. Young, make them let her go!”

Anna looked quizzically at Krueger, who shrugged his shoulders. She said to Consuelo, “Do you really want them to let her go? After you’re released, she might try to hurt you again.”

“No, she wouldn’t do that. I’m sure she wouldn’t!” Consuelo’s words and the innocent expression on her face reflected the simple faith of a child.

Krueger frowned. “Well, if that’s what you want, it’s your funeral!” He nodded to the officers. The prisoner stood immobile, glaring at Consuelo, as the policemen cautiously relaxed their grip and removed her handcuffs. Slowly, defiantly, the woman raised her hands to smooth her tangled gray hair. Then, head held high, she silently turned on her heel and left.

Consuelo looked at Anna, her face showing hurt and bewilderment. “Why does she hate me so much?”

You don’t understand, do you? Anna shook her head. Of course you don’t. We made sure of that.

The policemen moved back to Consuelo, who looked small and fragile in her gray prison uniform. At times like this Anna had to force herself to stay emotionally detached and professional. And keep reminding herself what this childlike young woman was capable of. No, Anna corrected herself, she had been capable of doing those things. Now, Consuelo was well. She couldn’t do them anymore.

As the officers led Consuelo away, she smiled at Anna and said, “See you in a few days!”

Krueger moved closer to Anna. His head shook so hard sweat flew off his face onto her crisp white blouse. “Amazing,” he said. “The things you see if you live long enough.”

The lawyer heaved his massive buttocks onto one of the chairs in the now empty waiting room. Anna sat down a few meters away. During her career she’d worked with many lawyers. Contrary to popular opinion, especially among her fellow physicians, most of them seemed like relatively decent human beings. A few, though, made her want to take a long bath after being in the same room with them.

Even after working with him all these months, she still wasn’t sure which category to put Krueger in.

The latter said, “Doc, do you really want to go through with this?”

“That’s what I just told the parole board.”

“Yeah, I know.” The pitch of his voice rose to a sarcastic, singsong falsetto. “ ‘I’m so confident the treatment was successful I’m willing to supervise and take responsibility for Consuelo myself.’ ” Then, in his usual bass, “Have to admit, that was a great performance you gave. Had the parole board eating out of your hand. Couldn’t have done better myself.”

Krueger snorted. “Of course, I’m not the one who might get murdered in my sleep.”

“Consuelo’s not dangerous anymore! She’s cured!”

“Sure. Ain’t modern medicine wonderful.”

Anna frowned at him. “If I didn’t believe it, do you think I’d put myself at risk?”

Krueger shrugged. “I’m sure you think your ‘experiment’ worked. Question is, did you brainwash her—or did she brainwash you?”

“It’s not brainwashing! I wish people would stop using that word!” A voice in Anna’s head whispered, He’s goading you. More calmly, “Consuelo was born with a subtle genetic defect that caused parts of her brain dealing with behavior and feelings to be abnormal. Critical brain cells were either overly sensitive or didn’t react enough to neurotransmitters that modulate anger and aggression. That neuropsychiatric defect gave her a poor capacity to deal with ‘abandonment’ by someone she loved and trusted. Her response in those situations was to lash out violently at the person she perceived as abandoning her.”

Krueger snorted. “Yeah, she was good at ‘lashing out’!”

“The point is, her underlying problem was biological in nature. By using this new treatment, we were able to correct it, and make the serotonergic, noradrenergic, and other systems in her brain work properly. Now, she’s far less likely than the ‘average’ person to be violent with other people.”

Krueger shook his head skeptically. “I’ve been in the criminal justice system for over thirty-five years. Seen too many cases of ‘not guilty by reason of insanity’ go into a loony bin for a while, come out after one of you shrinks said they’re ‘cured’—and then bounce back to court after they sliced-and-diced some more innocent people.” “But Consuelo won’t do that! Criminally violent behavior can be due to antisocial personality disorder, schizophrenia, or other central nervous system abnormalities different from the one she had. The neurological and biochemical reasons for those disorders are still poorly understood. Even with the best available therapy, recidivism is common in those patients. In Consuelo’s case, though, we discovered what biological defect caused her actions—and how to correct it. Her cure is permanent!”

“If you’re so sure your treatment worked, why did you wipe out her memories of what she did?”

“Consuelo ‘knows’ what she did. People keep reminding her of it. She just doesn’t remember doing it. We thought that eliminating those memories and the reactive emotions attached to them would be a good adjunct to her primary treatment. I’m certain she’s no longer a danger to others, that even under the greatest stress she won’t turn her feelings violently outward anymore. However, since she now has a normal capacity for empathy and remorse, she’s still capable of self-destructive acts. If she were to dwell too much on what she did, if she could run over every detail of it in her mind again and again, she might feel so guilty she’d be tempted to harm herself.”

“Well, considering what she did, maybe she should feel guilty!” Krueger shrugged. “But what do I know. I’m just a lawyer. You doctors are the ones with all the answers. Just to be on the safe side, though, I’ll talk with the parole board again next month. If Consuelo hasn’t killed anybody or burned down your neighborhood by then, maybe I can get them to treat her like a standard parolee. Give her to a regular parole officer, who doesn’t have to live with her.”

He shivered. “Living with her. Now that’s a scary thought.”

Krueger lifted himself from the chair and headed for the door, shaking his head. “Serotonergic. Recidivism. Five-dollar words won’t be worth much when Consuelo’s coming at you with murder in her eyes. And a knife in her hand.”

On Sunday evening they brought Consuelo to Anna’s house.

Anna met them on the front porch. Tall vine-covered fences shielded the house from her neighbors, so she couldn’t tell if any of them had noticed her guest’s arrival. Yesterday she’d met with the other homeowners in their isolated subdivision far outside the city. None openly expressed any fear of Consuelo. A few were concerned that she might act as a magnet for the media—especially the tabloid newspapers and TV shows. What about our privacy? Anna told them Krueger had let the media know that Consuelo didn’t want to be interviewed. And if any reporter or photographer chose to ignore that—well, any stranger driving on the tiny subdivision’s single private street was bound to be conspicuous. And the police were only a phone call away.

The two taciturn policewomen escorting Consuelo removed her handcuffs, dropped her battered suitcase, and left. Anna led Consuelo into the house’s large foyer, closed and locked the door, then reactivated the security system.

So now it’s just you and me.

Consuelo peered up at the large golden chandelier suspended from the ceiling. “Your house is so big, and beautiful!” The drab prison uniform she’d worn the last time Anna saw her had been replaced by a flower-print dress.

“Thank you. Let me give you a tour.” After walking through the dining and living rooms they ascended a long staircase to the upper level. The younger woman kept chattering about how beautiful everything looked.

Anna said, “This is my bedroom.” A large king-size bed dominated the room. Consuelo gazed longingly at the clothes in the walk-in closet. “You have so many beautiful dresses!”

“What size do you wear?”

“An eight.”

Anna smiled. “My ‘fat’ dresses, when I’ve fallen off the wagon on my diet, are tens and twelves. But my ‘thin’ ones are eights. If you see any you like, go ahead and wear them tomorrow.” She laughed a little, patting her hips. “Sad to say, none of my eights are very new!”

They walked to the end of the hallway, passing two rooms with closed doors. “This will be your bedroom.”

Consuelo sat down gently on the plush quilt covering the bed. Colorful paintings hung on the walls, and a green vase with fresh flowers stood on a nightstand. A white desk and spacious chest of drawers lined the walls. “It’s a wonderful room!” she said finally, her voice quivering.

Anna nodded sympathetically. Compared to the quarters Consuelo had just left, it was a wonderful room.

As they walked back to the top of the stairway, Consuelo asked, “What’s in those other two rooms?”

Anna’s eyes darted back to the two doors she always kept locked. “They’re just bedrooms. Let’s go downstairs.”

Consuelo gasped as they entered the largest room in the house. “It’s as big as a library!”

Fading sunlight shone through a large bay window. Deeply-stained wood paneling formed the walls of the room, ending in a high cathedral ceiling. A showcase of immaculate couches and chairs was distributed on the thickly-carpeted floor. Tall built-in bookcases stood on either side of an ornate brick fireplace.

Anna closed her eyes briefly, remembering when this room was far less quiet and pristine. When it echoed with high-pitched giggles of delight, and she couldn’t walk more than a few steps before stumbling over a discarded toy.

Shaking herself Anna gestured toward the big-screen television and entertainment center that dominated one wall. “Feel free to use the TV when I’m at work tomorrow. If there’s nothing on you like, I have movies and music on DVD.”

Consuelo wasn’t listening. She was examining the contents of one of the bookcases, running her index finger carefully over the titles. Anna said, “Or read any books you like. Most of them are medical textbooks, but there are some romance novels and—”

Suddenly Consuelo’s finger stopped on a dust jacket. As she stared at it her face turned pale, and she began to tremble. Anna moved closer, and read the title of the book Consuelo was touching. Damn! How could I have been so stupid, to leave those out where she could see them!

Quickly Anna said, “Have you had supper yet?”

Snapping out of her trance, Consuelo murmured, “No.”

“Then let’s go to the kitchen and make something.” Anna forced a smile. “My cooking skills aren’t the greatest, but I’m an expert with a microwave.”

They ate at the kitchen table in silence. Consuelo seemed—distracted. A little sad. But, as far as Anna could tell, not dangerous.

At least, not yet.

After supper they returned to the family room, and quietly read some magazines. Anna peered over the latest American Journal of Psychiatry, watching the younger woman. So far, so good. She’d been afraid that, with Consuelo now outside the controlled, formal patient-physician sessions at the prison, the exaggerated mood swings and hostility her patient had prior to the treatment might return. But no, Consuelo still acted polite, friendly—almost shy. No definite signs of transference. Except, it seemed Consuelo considered Anna the “big sister” she never had.

Anna felt herself becoming more comfortable with Consuelo in their new relationship. The contrast between the surly, vicious woman she’d first met at the prison a year ago and the demure, sweet young lady reading silently a few meters away, was like night and day. Nature had played a cruel trick on Consuelo, giving her intelligence, physical health, even beauty—but ruining it all by also bestowing a biochemical quirk in her brain that ultimately made her life, and the lives of those closest to her, a horrible tragedy.

Although he said it sarcastically, Krueger was right about one thing. Modern medicine was wonderful. Now that the experimental treatment had cured her, Consuelo could be the person she should have been. Anna smiled, thinking it was like Mr. Hyde had turned into Dr. Jekyll.

Then she remembered how that story ended.

Consuelo put down her Reader’s Digest and yawned. “If you don’t mind, Dr. Young, I’d like to go to bed now.”

“That’s fine. By the way, you don’t need to call me ‘Doctor’ anymore. ‘Anna’ will be fine.”

“All right, Dr.—I mean, Anna.”

“I’m due at my office at 8:00 tomorrow morning. If you need me, my office number is programmed into all the phones. I’ll activate the security system if you’re not up before I leave.” Anna briefly described how to work it. “Feel free to go out on the back porch tomorrow. But remember to turn the alarm on when you come in. Also, for now, I think it’d be better if you just stayed in the house, or backyard. Please don’t go out front.”

Consuelo nodded knowingly. “I understand. I don’t want to upset the neighbors.”

“I’m not concerned about them. I don’t want anyone coming to the house and bothering you.”

Consuelo whispered, “Like those reporters. Or—” She left that sentence unfinished. But Anna knew who she was thinking of.

Then Consuelo said, “Is there anything I can do for you tomorrow? Clean the house? Cook supper for you?”

Anna started to reply that Rosa, the housekeeper, would do all that, but stopped herself. Unfortunately, Rosa wasn’t coming back—at least, not until that asesina left the house. “You don’t have to—”

“But I want to!” Consuelo smiled shyly. “You’ve done so much for me, the least I can do is help you!”

At Consuelo’s insistence, Anna showed her where the cleaning supplies and dishes were kept. Her imagination said Consuelo seemed a little too interested in the long, sharp carving knives in the utensil drawer. But the rational part of her condemned that idea as paranoid.

After the younger woman went upstairs, Anna removed several textbooks from the bookcase in the family room. She didn’t want them to upset Consuelo any more than they already had. Carrying the heavy books to her own bedroom made her back hurt.

Alone in the dark in her large empty bed, Anna reminded herself to call Bob Nemo at Northwestern and give him a progress report. The neurobiologist and his team had developed the techniques they’d used on Consuelo to modify and stimulate production of CNS neurotransmitter receptors. The methods for tracing and erasing memories for specific time periods were a little more standardized, though Nemo’s own research had made them more accurate and effective. He and his staff had already published several basic science papers on the treatment, but they were expecting her to write things up from a clinical perspective. As she drifted off to sleep Anna thought, I’ve got to get my notes together and start writing…

Suddenly her eyes opened. The room was pitch black. Something—some sound—had awoken her. Terrified, Anna remembered that the door to her bedroom was open. Reflexively she reached over to wake up Charles. But, of course, he wasn’t there. Heart pounding, she strained to hear the faint rustle of bare feet across the carpeted floor. In her mind’s eye she pictured a wraithlike figure coming toward her, knife held high—!

And then, faintly, at the other end of the hall Anna heard the sound of a toilet being flushed, followed a moment later by the faraway creaking of mattress springs. Sighing, she tried to fall asleep again. But the alarm clock went off before she could.

Just before Anna left for work she peeked into Consuelo’s bedroom. The latter was still asleep, her angelic face aglow with sweet, innocent dreams. As Anna drove into the city she had second thoughts about leaving Consuelo alone in the house. No, she convinced herself, it wasn’t because Consuelo might burn down the house or run away. But what if, suddenly alone in a strange place, she became frightened? Or what if one of those bastards from the tabloids came to the house and harassed her? The way that one TV show in particular had treated poor Consuelo still enraged Anna.

No, she should have canceled her appointments and stayed home. But Bill Skinner, her partner, was out of town for the week at a medical conference, so there was no one she could trust to cover for her. Although she had a responsibility to Consuelo, she had the same kind of responsibility to her other patients too. She couldn’t just abandon them, by rescheduling them for next week—could she? Bill always said she was too obsessive-compulsive for her own good. Although it was painful to admit it, Anna knew he was right.

Her day was uneventful. All the patients she saw were doing fine. And there were no emergency phone calls about a disaster at her house.

Anna drove home in record time. At least the house is still standing. Entering the kitchen from the attached garage, Anna became worried when she saw the security system wasn’t on. Then she heard music coming from the family room. The exhilarating conclusion of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. Consuelo was probably in there, relaxing.

But as Anna headed toward the room that masterwork was followed by a few spoken words, then another piece—Gene Kelly’s rendition of “Sin-gin’ in the Rain.” She stopped, realizing that Consuelo wasn’t listening to music. She was watching a movie. And Anna knew which one it was.

Gathering her courage, she called, “Hi! I’m home!” and entered the family room.

Consuelo was sitting on the couch, staring at the colorful closing credits on the TV screen. Seeing Anna, she said, “Hi! I didn’t hear you come in!”

Acting nonchalant, Anna walked over and hit the “Stop” button on the DVD machine. “How did things go today?”

“Fine. Let me show you what I did.”

Anna followed her to the kitchen. The vinyl floor, which had become scuffed and dirty since Rosa abruptly took her “leave of absence” last week, now sparkled. Anna noted approvingly that the stove and countertops were scrubbed and polished to a healthy glow.

Consuelo said, “I didn’t know when you’d get home, so I haven’t put supper on yet. Why don’t you go relax, and I’ll make it.”

“That’s fine, I can help—”

“No, you worked all day! Besides, I love to cook.” Consuelo’s face turned sad. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a chance to do it.”

Yielding to Consuelo’s pleas, Anna returned to the family room and collapsed into her favorite recliner. Closing her eyes, she listened to the clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen. Soon a spicy mix of mouth-watering aromas wafted to her nose. Anna sunk deeper into the recliner, feeling warm and relaxed…

Suddenly she woke up. Anna dimly sensed Consuelo standing over her. There was something in her patient’s hand. She was raising it up—!

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to wake you.” Consuelo gestured toward the kitchen with her wooden stirring spoon. “Supper’s ready.”

The arroz con polio Consuelo made was fabulous. After finishing several servings, a terrible thought flashed into Anna’s mind. But Consuelo had eaten the same food she had. And the younger woman didn’t seem suicidal.

After taking care of the dishes and rejoining Anna in the family room, Consuelo said, “If you don’t mind, Dr.—I mean, Anna—I’d like to go to bed now.” She glanced at the clock on the mantle. “They always had ‘lights out’ at eight o’clock, so I’m not used to staying up later.”

“That’s fine. Oh, I almost forgot. When I came home, the alarm system was off.”

Consuelo looked devastated. “I’m sorry! The weather was so nice, I went out on your back porch this afternoon. I must have forgotten to turn it back on when I came in.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m so sorry!”

“That’s all right. I just want you to be safe. Just remember to turn the alarm on when you come back inside.”

Head bowed, Consuelo said contritely, “I will.” Then she went upstairs.

Anna watched her go, puzzled. Was Consuelo acting a little too emotionally? Reacting too self-critically to “failure”? And if so, what did it mean?

Later, Anna went over to the entertainment center. Pushing the “Eject” button on the DVD machine, she removed her disc of A Clockwork Orange and replaced it in its plastic case. It was too late to hide that movie from Consuelo. But at least she could prevent any more matinees.

Then she checked her collection for other movies to censor. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest? Yes. Psycho? Definitely! Anna shivered, reminding herself to lock the bathroom door when she took a shower.

Adding a dozen more discs to the stack, she held the last in her hand, and hesitated. Finally Anna placed the DVD in the machine, and spent the next two hours mesmerized by the original black-and-white version of The Bad Seed. Then she carried the discs upstairs and hid them under the mattress of her bed.

It was a long time before she fell asleep.

At her office the next day, Anna berated herself for not being able to control her fears. Consuelo was cured, she kept telling herself. The young woman’s new personality was very pleasant and sweet. It couldn’t be just an act. She could have run away yesterday, or attacked her at any time. But she hadn’t. Didn’t that prove she was cured? Unless—

Unless her patient had a more subtly sinister plan in mind. Like lulling her into a false sense of security before striking. Or, even if Consuelo wasn’t faking, maybe that explosive component of her old personality was still lurking beneath a fragile surface. All it might take was a wrong word, a misinterpreted action—and just like that dramatic scene in the Lon Chaney version of The Phantom of the Opera. Consuelo’s mask of gentle sweetness would be ripped away, revealing the horror that lurked beneath.

When Anna entered the house that evening, the security system buzzed. Good. She punched in the code number and silenced it.

The meal Consuelo prepared was even better than last night’s. As they were getting up from the kitchen table Consuelo said, “I hope you don’t mind. I went out front to the mailbox this afternoon and got your mail.”

“Thank you. I forgot to get it yesterday.”

“Oh, when I went out, there was a package on your front porch.”

Anna frowned. “I wasn’t expecting anything. Where did you put it?”

“In the dining room.”

The rectangular package lying on the table was wrapped in brown paper. Anna picked it up, turned it over—and gasped.

It was addressed to Consuelo.

Gripping the package tightly, frozen with fear, Anna strained to hear a ticking sound inside it. When it didn’t explode, she relaxed a little. Maybe if I put it in water, like they do in the movies—But then another part of her said, That’s ridiculous! Open it up!

The latter voice won. Trembling, Anna tore off the wrapping. Inside was a thin cardboard box. The kind used to hold clothes given as gifts. She removed the top and peeled back flimsy, crinkling paper.

From the corner of her eye Anna noticed that Consuelo was standing beside her, watching as she pulled a man’s tie from the box. It was red and green, with smiling little Santa Clauses sewn on it. The kind of gift Charles used to get from his mother every Christmas.

The next item Anna removed was a woman’s brooch. She placed it and the tie on the table.

Peeling more paper away, Anna removed a small, frilly dress. It was just the right size for a four-year-old girl.

The last item in the box was an even smaller two-piece green outfit for a boy. The label said “3T.” On the front of the outfit’s top was the picture of a teddy bear dancing beside a Christmas tree. Printed in red letters above the scene were the words, “Beary Christmas!”

Anna let a few angry sobs escape before remembering she wasn’t alone. Straining to control her pain and fury, she looked at Consuelo. The latter was staring at the clothes with an expression of pain equal to her own. Consuelo said, “Why would anyone send me those things?”

Because she’s vicious, and wants to hurt you! And, maybe, me too. Anna examined the paper the box had been wrapped in. The address label was plain white. Computer-printed. No return address.

Anna blinked. There was no postage sticker or stamps on it either. That meant she, or someone she’d hired, had put it on the front porch herself.

Phoning her neighbors didn’t help. None had seen a gray-haired woman or any other stranger around that day. A call to Roy Krueger for advice got only as far as his answering machine. After leaving a message, Anna thought about calling the police. But, really, what could they do? Just come out, make a report, and leave. And even if they found her fingerprints on the wrapping paper or box, what was the worst they could charge her with? Trespassing? Nothing that would prevent her from doing something similar again.

Consuelo was unusually quiet the rest of the evening. Several times Anna tried to draw her out, but the younger woman was obviously too upset to discuss it.

“Please, Anna, don’t make me talk about it! It hurts too much!”

Before Consuelo went to bed, Anna told her to be extra careful about keeping the alarm system on tomorrow. “And if anyone comes to the front door, don’t open it!”

Afterwards, Anna hid the package and its contents in her own bedroom. That night, lying alone in her bed, for the first time since Consuelo came to the house Anna’s fears were not centered on her. Now it was worse. Now she was more afraid of someone else. And that new person was, potentially, even more dangerous.

The next day all the patients Anna saw at her office were in better emotional shape than she was. She couldn’t concentrate on her work. Feelings of anxiety, loss, and guilt kept bubbling up in her. Treating her like any other patient, the rational part of her brain advised her, You need to work through those feelings. Don’t let them control you.

But just having that insight was useless. Even knowing with clinical precision what was going on within her, it was still a terrible struggle to deal with it.

When Anna entered the house that evening, the aromas of another of Consuelo’s gourmet meals brought a small smile to her face. But then she heard someone sobbing.

Consuelo sat in the family room, face buried in her hands, crying.

“What’s wrong?”

Consuelo’s head jerked up, a terrified expression flitting across it until she saw it was Anna. “I went out to the mailbox after I finished making supper.” She handed Anna a padded mailing envelope. “This was addressed to me.”

Anna took it gingerly. The mailer was addressed just like the package yesterday. At least, she noted with relief, this one had stamps and had gone through the regular mail.

Consuelo sobbed, “I put them back in it.”

Anna extracted some papers from the open envelope. Newspaper clippings, dated about two and a half years ago. A quick glance at their headlines told her what they were about.

Holiday Tragedy. Woman Held In Death Of Family.

After a moment Anna said, “What did you feel after you read those stories?”

Consuelo’s voice was that of a frightened little girl. “Sad. Angry.”

“Angry?”

“Yes. It made me very angry at the person who did those terrible things!”

Anna looked fixedly at the other woman. “You know who that person was, don’t you?”

“Yes. It was me.” Suddenly Consuelo jumped up, her face flushed. “But I don’t remember doing them! I can’t understand how anyone could be so—evil!” Her hands went up to the back of her head and pulled vigorously on her long black hair. “Why did I do it? What kind of person am I? Maybe it’d be better if I were dead too, so I can’t hurt anyone else!”

“Sit down, Consuelo.”

Hesitantly the younger woman obeyed.

Anna looked closely at her, trying to decide what Consuelo was really thinking. It would be so easy to believe she was telling the truth. In fact, Anna told herself, that’s what I want to believe. But, she knew, merely wanting something to be true—even if you wanted it really, really hard—didn’t necessarily make it so. She was almost certain Consuelo was sincere. But she couldn’t be completely sure this wasn’t an elaborate, manipulative act staged for her benefit.

Anna said, “We’ve been through this before. You were ill when you did those things. Now, you’re well. You’re not responsible for what you did back then.”

“Then why do I feel like I am? Why do I feel so guilty?”

Anna hesitated. “It’s going to take a long time to deal with those feelings, and work through them. But in time, you will.” She felt her own eyes turning wet. “We’ll talk about this again later.”

Suddenly Consuelo leapt up and ran toward her. For a frightened instant Anna thought she was going to attack her. But Consuelo flew past her into the kitchen.

“Oh no! I forgot, the casserole’s still in the oven! It’ll be ruined!”

The food was, in fact, a little overdone. As they ate Anna became more and more angry. From a strictly biological standpoint, she believed, Consuelo was “cured.” But like anyone recuperating from a severe prolonged illness, psychologically Consuelo was still weak and vulnerable. It was going to take time for her to become mentally strong—able to resist all the hateful things ignorant, spiteful people might do to her in the future. Until her sense of self-worth was restored, Consuelo needed to be protected. Especially from the brutally vengeful gray-haired woman Anna knew had to be responsible for those cruel “gifts.”

Krueger was right about one thing. That woman was a bitch.

And I’m doing a damn poor job of protecting Consuelo from her.

Finally Anna decided. “I’m going to cancel all my appointments for the rest of the week. We’re going to spend tomorrow and Friday together.”

“No, you shouldn’t change your plans just for me! I know you have other patients to take care of, too.”

“It’s all right. I’ll reschedule those patients for next week.” Yes, they can live without your support and guidance for a little longer. Can’t they? “I’ll tell my secretary to phone or beep me if there are any problems.”

Anna smiled slightly. “You’ve been cooped up in this house since Sunday. Why don’t we go out shopping tomorrow?”

Consuelo’s eyes widened. “Do you really think we could? What if someone—?”

What if someone recognizes you? Well, if anyone tries to hurt you, they’ll have to deal with me! “It’ll be fine. We’ll go downtown, and have a great time!”

Anna kicked herself mentally. Why hadn’t she realized it sooner? By keeping her locked up in the house, from Consuelo’s point of view it must be like she’d just exchanged one prison for another. True, this one was more opulent. But it was still a prison.

The telephone rang. A little afraid of who it might be, Anna walked to the living room and answered it.

“Hello?”

“This is Krueger. Glad to hear you’re still alive. Been out of town the last few days, and just got your message on my answering machine. What’s up?”

In a low voice Anna told him about the package and the envelope. Krueger grunted. “Well, it is a little late for April Fool’s day.”

“How can you joke about this? She’s trying to undo everything we’ve done to help Consuelo! She’s a malicious, vindictive—”

“Wait! Let’s not jump to conclusions! Maybe she isn’t the one who did it. There’re a hell of a lot of people out there who wouldn’t mind making your ‘friend’ sweat a little—or worse.”

“Well, you’re her lawyer! What are you going to do about it?”

“What am I going to do about it? Hmm. I’ll have to give it some serious thought.”

Anna pictured Krueger picking his nose at the other end of the line. “Listen,” she said, “I’m coming downtown tomorrow. I’d like to stop by your office to discuss this in person.” “Sure. How about three o’clock? If I’m still seeing anybody then, I’ll kick ’em out.” He paused. “One more thing. Wear that tight white blouse you had on at the parole board hearing. It’s my favorite.”

Anna found herself listening to a dial tone. The delicately balanced opinion she had of Krueger tilted down towards “He’s scum!”

Later, after Consuelo went to bed, Anna placed the package and envelope in an old shopping bag and put it in the trunk of her car. Maybe, when Krueger saw what that vicious grayhaired woman had sent Consuelo, he might think of some way to stop her. But she doubted it.

Next morning, while Consuelo cleared off the breakfast dishes Anna called her secretary.

“No problem,” Mike told her. “I’ll phone all your patients and reschedule them.” Then she and Consuelo headed downtown.

It was a beautiful spring day. Tulips and daffodils were in full bloom along the streets and highways. They spent the morning flitting from store to store. After a while, when everyone seemed to pay no more attention to Consuelo than to any other shopper, Anna relaxed and started to enjoy herself.

Once, she saw Consuelo examining a small painted porcelain figurine. It was a cherub-faced little boy about five years old, with a fishing pole slung over one shoulder and a puppy tagging along beside him. After checking the price tag, Consuelo reluctantly put it down. She saw Anna looking at her, and said, “They only gave me back a little money when I left.”

Anna picked up the figurine. Overpriced, but if it made Consuelo happy—

“I like it too. Let’s buy it.”

Anna sighed sadly. With the nest egg she and Charles had accumulated before the accident, and the life insurance policy, money was the least of her problems.

After lunch, Anna remembered she hadn’t bought Easter gifts for her nephews yet. In a nearby candy store they were surrounded by rows of chocolate bunnies, pink and yellow marshmallow chicks, and boxes of brightly colored jelly beans. After they carried two large Easter baskets filled with treats and small toys back to her car, Anna had an idea. “Would you like to visit my nephews with me this Sunday? The boys would love to meet you!”

Consuelo looked at her a little fearfully. “How old are they?”

“Christopher is six, and Matt turns three next month.” She frowned seriously at Consuelo. “There’s one thing you have to remember when you meet them. It’s very important.”

Consuelo leaned forward anxiously.

“Christopher is pretty sophisticated for someone in kindergarten. He might ask some embarrassing questions about where their baskets came from. Just remember, the Easter Bunny left them at Aunt Anna’s house. That’s our story, and we’ve got to stick to it!”

For the first time Anna saw Consuelo give a real smile. It was a nice, happy one. The first, she hoped, of many.

She made a mental note to call Karen. But if her big sister said it was safe, Karen wouldn’t mind. And as for her nephews—well, their minds would be on their gifts.

Besides, they still had a few more precious years of innocence left.