Page 101 of Edge of Darkness (Night Prowler 4)
Christian’s attention snapped back into the present and honed in on the ominous note in the woman’s voice. “How did you get this number?” he asked, instantly, violently on edge.
“September listed you as her emergency contact on her treatment form.”
Christian realized several things simultaneously. One: Ember had listed him as her emergency contact during the two weeks they hadn’t been speaking and she’d first seen this doctor, which he guessed meant she assumed he’d refuse to hear anything about her and would just hang up. That made his heart ache as if someone had put a hammer to it. Two: this phone call was not going to make him happy.
He growled, “What’s this about?”
She began hesitantly, her voice full of professional concern. “Well, this is a delicate situation, but September signed a standard release waiver allowing me to communicate the details of her medical history with other healthcare professionals or immediate family if I felt it necessary to the success of her treatment plan.”
“Go on,” he insisted, bolting upright in the seat. It became a little harder to breathe.
“And, I must admit, after speaking with a few of her former doctors, I’m very worried for her. For her safety.”
Christian felt as if he’d been injected with adrenaline. A cold sweat broke out all over his body and his heart throbbed painfully. He said, “Former doctors?”
Dr. Flores paused for a moment that felt like years. Then she asked in a gently compassionate tone, “If I might ask—are you aware of Ember’s history with mental illness?”
“Mental illness?” he repeated in a horrified whisper. Everything beyond the sound of Dr. Flores’s voice faded to black.
“I’m guessing by the tone of your voice that’s a no.” She sighed. “That’s very common; many patients are reluctant to share that kind of information with people they care about, fearing it will drive them away.”
“I…the accident that killed her family. I know she was…she’s understandably haunted by that—”
“The clinical term is ‘survivor guilt.’ It’s a symptom of posttraumatic stress disorder, and in Ember’s case it’s quite severe. Sufferers blame themselves for the deaths of others, even though there was nothing they could have done to save them. It’s commonly found among survivors of combat or natural disasters, even among friends and family of people who commit suicide. It’s extremely debilitating, and, in my clinical experience, sufferers of this particular syndrome are prone to very self-destructive behaviors. Even to the point of taking their own lives.”
From Christian’s throat came a strangled, incoherent noise.
“Ember believes she is responsible for the automobile accident that killed her mother and brother—”
“She was drinking—she told me all about it!” Christian choked out. His throat was so constricted his voice sounded unnatural. Corbin glanced at him in the rearview mirror, his brows raised.
“That is the script her mind has adopted to cope with the guilt of surviving. It’s an adaptive reaction to unbearable stress. You see, Mr. McLoughlin, the truth of the matter is that Ember had a single drink—a light beer—at a friend’s house prior to driving home to pick up her mother and brother that night before dinner. She had a blood alcohol level of exactly zero when she was tested at the accident site, and several witnesses testified that the single drink she’d had was hours before she got into the car. There was a comprehensive investigation, as you can imagine, but Ember was cleared of any wrongdoing. The car simply hydroplaned in the rain.
“But for Ember, the accident is entirely her fault. Her mind has created an alternate version of how much she had to drink that night. Put another way, her mind’s way of dealing with the terrible reality of being the only survivor of a crash that killed her mother, younger brother and eleven other people was simply to…improvise. The human brain is a beautiful monster, Mr. McLoughlin. When it works perfectly, it’s a miracle of engineering. But it also possesses the ability to cannibalize itself until there is nothing left of what you and I would call the ‘truth.’?”
“Oh God,” Christian whispered, remembering in excruciating detail the expression on Ember’s face when he’d thrown her out of his house that night. The absolute self-loathing, the black, bottomless depth of despair.
It was a lie. She didn’t kill anyone. The only thing she was guilty of was surviving when everyone else died.
“The reason I’m telling you this, Mr. McLoughlin, is that I’d like you to be involved in her treatment, if at all possible. The more support she has, the better her chances of recovery. I don’t know if she’s still cutting herself—”
“Cutting!” Christian hissed, physically sickened at the thought of Ember hurting herself.
“Yes, apparently that was an issue when she lived in the States. Her last doctor prescribed lithium to manage her depression, although I doubt if she’s still taking it—if indeed she ever did. The medication would have done too much to dull the pain. Pain she very much feels she deserves.”
Christian fought the urge to scream. To smash something with his bare fists. To beat something bloody.
“I’d like you to watch her very carefully for the next few months for any signs that she may be hurting herself physically, and let me know. Also…please keep this call between the two of us. At this point in her treatment, it will do more harm than good if she feels cornered. I’ll suggest to her during our next session that she start bringing you along, perhaps once a month, and we can go from the
re. Does that sound all right with you?”
Christian was speechless. He felt as if someone had just cut his legs off at the knee.
“I know it’s a lot to process. Please call me if you have any questions; once you’ve had a chance to absorb this, we can talk further.”
As if from the bottom of a deep, black well, Christian heard his voice thanking her and saying good-bye.
When he arrived home, he felt Ember’s absence in the house as a solid coldness inside his chest as soon as he crossed the threshold of the front door. He ran from room to room calling her name, he dialed her cell phone over and over, but there was no answer.
