Innocent Witness
So that’s the way it is. Now Steve understood the hotel manager’s hostility. Obviously, he thought Steve’s presence might be some kind of personal threat as far as Deanna was concerned. He was ready to declare battle on the big-city doctor who was going to freeload at the hotel for a month.
“Well, I guess I’d better get back to the office. I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about.”
“Yes, Bob, we have some scheduling to do and some other details to work out. See you in the morning.” Deanna gave him a dismissing smile, while she silently steamed. How dare he call me honey? And parade his jealousy like some schoolboy? She struggled to control her anger as he walked away. She wasn’t about to create a scene in front of Penny’s therapist.
“I don’t think Mr. Henderson likes doctors,” Steve said after they had ordered their drinks.
“Bob takes a little too much on himself at times,” Deanna said in the way of an apology. “But he was a great support when I had all the responsibility of the hotel dumped on me so abruptly.”
“I would say that you’ve done very well. You’re to be complimented. It can’t be easy running a hotel like this.”
“It has its challenges,” she said lightly. Keeping her own counsel was one of her strong traits, and she wasn’t about to dump a load of frustrations on this willing listener, but suddenly the lounge seemed stifling and confining. “Let’s take our drinks out on the terrace. I need a breath of fresh air.”
Steve rose and picked up both drinks. As they passed the bar, a craggy-faced man with a black beard wiped his hands on his bartender apron and held out his hand, forcing Steve and Deanna to stop. “You must be the shrink Deanna’s been expecting.”
“That’s me.” Steve nodded. “And you must be Dillon, the most famous storyteller in the Rockies.” The bartender looked to be about fifty years old, with raw-boned features that included a crooked nose and bushy black eyebrows.
“I don’t know about the famous part, but I do like to spin a yarn or two,” he admitted, stroking his shaggy beard. “Been around Eagle Ridge mostly all my life.”
“I’d like to hear some of your stories. I bet there’s a lot of interesting history in this area.”
“Yep, and plenty of goings-on right today. Nothing much goes on around here that escapes these two eyes of mine. Right, Deanna?”
Her smile was thin. “Everyone loves to come to the Rattlesnake and gossip with Dillon.”
“Hey, I’m no gossip. I always check my facts. You better be careful, gal.” He shook a stubby finger at her. “Telling tales out of school will only get ya in a peck of trouble.”
“And what kind of tales could I tell about you that weren’t true?” Deanna countered with quick sharpness.
Dillon gave a grunt that might have passed for a laugh, but then he warned Steve, “Watch out for this gal, Doctor. She’s as pretty as a diamondback rattler, and just as dangerous.”
Deanna ignored the remark, and Steve saw her face was flushed with anger as they walked away from the bar. A set of double French doors at the back of the lounge led outside to a large terrace bordered by a waist-high rock wall.
Now Steve knew why the tavern was nearly empty. The terrace was filled with hotel guests enjoying their drinks under the stars as they sat at small tables, laughing and chatting. He saw that a four-piece band was setting up at one end of the patio near a small hardwood dance floor.
Deanna eased onto a chair at one of the tables near the low rock wall, and Steve was aware of the deep breath she took as if to settle some disquieting emotion. Obviously the little encounter with the bartender had set her on edge. Even if he hadn’t been a professional delving into people’s minds and emotions, he would have been intrigued by the double-edged banter that had taken place between them.
“That’s Shadow Lake,” she said, resuming her conversational tone as she pointed to a wide expanse of water at the base of the hill. “In daytime, the lake is a bright blue, but once the sun goes behind those peaks, the water turns so dark that the shadows of the trees around it are reflected on the surface like black webs.”
“Then I’d say its name is appropriate.”
“Yes, in more ways than one,” she murmured, and then quickly took a sip of her drink.
As Steve looked across the table at her, he was conscious of the way the moonlight played upon her golden hair and traced the lovely lines and planes of her face. If the situation had been different, he could have easily allowed himself to become romantically interested in her, but he was an expert at keeping his love life separate from his profession. He knew how to stay within the bounds of friendship, and even though Deanna Drake intrigued him on more levels than he was willing to admit, he knew how to handle himself. Penny Drake was his patient, and anything that affected her was of vital interest to the success of her treatment.
There was a great deal he needed to learn about Deanna Drake, and the incident that had traumatized her child. He had studied reports sent to him with Penny’s referral, and even gone to the library to read news accounts of her husband’s murder, but the facts were vague. There had been no clues as to who had shot Benjamin Drake in a small clearing behind the hotel, or why. If Penny knew the answers, they were trapped in her mind, while fear kept close guard, preventing her from speaking them. And if he was successful in releasing the truth? Would the revelations be damaging to Deanna Drake? He was well aware that his first obligation was to his patient, even if the fallout of what he learned from Penny might be critical of her mother.
“Have you always lived in Eagle Ridge?” he asked as they sipped their drinks and drew in the fresh night air.
“No, my parents moved to Colorado when I was twelve. They bought a small ranch in this valley, and I attended a consolidated school about thirty miles from here. After I graduated from high school, I enrolled in a Denver college and took a degree in hotel management. My parents had sold out and moved back East by then, but I decided to stay. Both of them have since passed away. As fate would have it, Ben had posted an assistant manager’s job on the college bulletin board. I answered the ad and got the job.” Then she added, “And a husband as a fringe benefit.”
“Sounds like you two had a lot in common.”
She nodded. “Ben was older, had been married when he was in his twenties, and had lost his wife to cancer. He was lonely, and so was I.”
“I know how that goes.” Steve sighed. “I still miss my wife, Carol. When she died and left me alone with a two-year-old child, I didn’t know if I could put my life back together again. Luckily for me, Travis is pure joy.” Steve shook his head ruefully and chuckled. “He’s a handful sometimes, but he makes life very worthwhile.”
“I feel the same way about Penny. Up until now, she’s always been such a happy, outgoing little girl—”
“And she will be again,” he assured her. He didn’t want to talk about Penny, not yet. There would be time later to center the conversation around her child. Because Penny was a minor, he was free to share any insights with her mother as they occurred, and not violate any privileged-information edict that would have governed an adult in his care.
At the moment, he needed to find out as much about Deanna Drake as he could because the child would be affected by whatever was going on in her mother’s life. He waited until the right moment seemed to present itself, and then he asked, “Would you satisfy my curiosity about something?”
She smiled at him over the rim of her glass. “Sure. What do you want to know?”
“What’s wrong between you and Dillon?”
Her fingers visibly tightened around her drink. She bit her lower lip, and at first he thought she wasn’t going to answer. Then she said regretfully, “I wish I knew. When my husband was alive, I had very little to do with the tavern or Dillon. Ben made it clear that he’d handle that part of the hotel, almost as if it were a separate business. Since I’ve had to take over the management of the hotel, Dillon has shown nothing but antagonism and anger toward me. It’s almost…almost as if…as if he believes that I’m the one responsible for Ben’s death.”
“I see.” He waited for her to go on.
She looked at her drink for a long moment, and then, just as she lifted her eyes to his, they were interrupted by a muscular young man wearing tight jeans and a muscle shirt that showed off his biceps. Steve had noticed the energetic young man with long bleached hair earlier because he’d been helping the musicians set up.
“I know the band’s an hour late, Deanna,” he said hurriedly. “But it’s not my fault. I was in Silver Springs in plenty of time to pick them up and get them here, but the drummer was fooling around with some gal and made us wait. I told them that you’d probably dock their pay.”
Deanna shook her head. “Don’t worry about it, Roger. I’ll settle with them.” She motioned to Steve. “I want you to meet Steve Sherman. He’s going to be a guest at the hotel for a while. This is Roger. He drives the hotel van and does a little bit of everything else that needs doing around here.”
“I used to be a ski instructor at Vail,” Roger said quickly to set the record straight. “Had to give it up, though. One of my knees went out and I had to have it replaced. But I’m still in good shape.”
Steve almost expected the fellow to flex his muscles to show off his physique. “Yes, I can tell you are.”
“Deanna, I need to talk to you about doing some work on the van. It’s making noises like the whole differential is about to go out. I was thinking—”
“Tomorrow, Roger,” Deanna cut him off. “Tomorrow.”
“Oh, sure.” He glanced quickly at Steve and then back at Deanna. “Gotcha. Sorry.” He gave them a funny kind of salute and left.
Deanna smiled at his retreating back. “Roger’s the proverbial jack-of-all-trades and master of none. He showed up last winter looking for a job. He’d be a good mechanic if he’d put his mind to it, or Bob could train him for office work, but he’ll never stick with any job very long. I think he was more a ski bum than an instructor in Vail, but his banged-up knee put an end to that life-style.”
Steve was sorry that the conversation had turned away from Dillon and whatever it was that made the bartender think Deanna was responsible for her husband’s death. He hoped the subject would come up again, but the band started playing and put an end to any easy conversation.
A few couples got up on the dance floor. For a while they just sat, watched and listened, until the barmaid came around to take an order for more drinks.
Deanna shook her head. “I think we’d best be getting upstairs. It’s about time to put Penny down for the night, and I imagine Susan has a date. She and Jeffery have been a couple for a few weeks now. Young love, you know,” she said in a wistful tone.
“I’d say this is the perfect setting for it.” With that said, Steve let his gaze circle the panorama of mountain peaks etched darkly against the night sky.
She didn’t answer, and when he turned and looked at her, something in her face touched him in a way he wouldn’t have thought possible. Her eyes were filled with such hurt and loneliness that he wanted to pull her close.
He took himself in hand, and as evenly as the sudden quickening of his breath would allow, agreed. “Yes, it’s time to turn in. Tomorrow is an important day.”
Chapter Three
On the way to her apartment, Deanna asked Steve if he’d like to see the therapy room.
“Tomorrow will be soon enough. I think I’d better collect Travis, and see if I can get him to bed. He’s been like a jumping bean all day. I’m afraid he’ll wear everyone out with that geyser energy of his.”
“He’s a darling little boy,” Deanna said sincerely. “Penny seems fascinated by him. Believe me, it’s been a long time since she’s shown interest in any other child. We have a lot of guests who bring their children, and there’s a nice playground on the hotel grounds, but Penny won’t have anything to do with them.” Deanna hesitated and then said, “I guess I ought to warn you that Penny may resist doing anything without the dog nearby.”
“No problem. Hobo can come along with her when she comes to the playroom. Actually, using pets in therapy is not uncommon. A lot of kids feel a lot more comfortable with an animal than with a grown-up. Hobo is welcome to try out some of my play therapy.” He grinned at her. “We therapists are sneaky guys. We’ll use every trick in the book to find success with a child.”
She smiled back. “Then I’ll relax, knowing that both my daughter and dog have found a tricky new playmate.”
As they walked upstairs together, they decided on a daily session from eleven to twelve each morning. Susan would look after Travis for that hour. “I’ll bring Penny up to the therapy room.”
“Good,” Steve said, and then added that he would meet them at the door because he didn’t want her coming into the playroom with Penny. As they entered Deanna’s apartment, he explained that it was important to control all the variables during the sessions, and that meant leaving everything else in Penny’s life outside the door—except the dog.
The children were sprawled out on the living-room floor, watching the end of the Lion King movie, and Susan was curled up on the couch reading a magazine. Both children were sleepy-eyed, and there was no protest when they were told it was time for bed.
“See you tomorrow, Penny. And you, too, Hobo,” Steve said as he collected Travis and started to leave. The dog wagged his scruffy tail at the sound of his name, but Penny only fixed her flat stare on Steve, and didn’t even respond to Travis when he said, “’Night, Penny.”
The room that they’d been assigned was at the opposite wing of the hotel from Deanna’s apartment but on the same second floor and almost directly below the therapy room, which was on the third floor.
Travis fell asleep almost the moment he hit the pillow, but Steve lay wide awake, looking out the window, his mind filled with a swirl of thoughts as threatening as the high dark clouds moving across the face of the moon. Maybe this arrangement had been a mistake. Keeping focused on Penny’s therapy and not letting himself be drawn into a potentially volatile situation with Deanna would be a challenge. The manager’s proprietary manner had clearly been a “hands off” warning. What was Deanna’s real relationship with Bob Henderson? She’d clearly been annoyed with him. Had he stepped into a lovers’ rift? Steve wondered. And if so, what bearing would their relationship have on his stay at the hotel, and more importantly, on his work with Penny?
And what was that undercurrent between her and the bartender, Dillon, all about? Apparently the craggy-faced man had been great friends with Benjamin Drake, and according to Deanna, he held her responsible for Ben’s death. Maybe it’s a good thing I’m going to stick around awhile, Steve thought. He just might be able to help Deanna handle some of the burden that had landed on her shoulders.
He kneaded his pillow, flounced over in bed and lectured himself about the protective urges that he was feeling for this woman he’d just met.
THE NEXT MORNING, Steve stood waiting in the open doorway of the therapy room when Deanna and Penny came up the stairs with Hobo bounding ahead of them. Whether or not the little girl would come willingly into the room without her mother was the first hurdle. Sometimes a child resisted being left alone with the therapist and the first few sessions were unproductive. Nevertheless, Steve was always firm about making the child adjust to being without any parent during therapy.
He was relieved when Penny showed no hesitancy about coming into the playroom with her dog for a look-see. He suspected that Penny must have overheard some of Deanna’s preparations for furnishing the therapy room and was curious about it.
Steve gave Deanna the “okay” sign, and then shut the door. The little girl didn’t seem to notice or be concerned that her mother had gone. Shiny golden curls framed her solemn face, and a shower of freckles dotted her slightly pug nose. She would have been a beautiful child if there’d been a bit of life in her vacant expression.
Steve released a thankful breath that she hadn’t shown any resistance to staying in the playroom. He made himself comfortable on a floor cushion beside a low round table like the one he had in his office. Sitting quietly, he watched the child and dog explore the room.
Hobo sniffed at everything, poked his nose into buckets of toys, and accidentally set a ball rolling with his nose. Penny slowly made a circuit of the room, looking at the dollhouse, sandbox, an easel set up with paper, crayon and paints and an array of puppets and stuffed animals sitting on a shelf, but she didn’t touch anything.
Apparently having satisfied her curiosity, she started toward the door and motioned for Hobo to follow. She was ready to leave.
“Penny.”
She stopped and looked at Steve, her eyes fixed and staring.
He held up a small kitchen timer that was ticking away. “Have you seen a timer, Penny? Like this one? Your mother wants you to stay until this hand goes all the way around. That’s an hour. You can do anything you want until the bell dings. Anything at all. You can play or not play. It’s up to you, but you have to stay here until it’s time to go.”
She looked at him, at the timer, and then at the closed door. Her expression remained the same, closed and guarded. No sign of tears, nor hysterics, nor hint of any kind of emotion.
Hobo came over to the low table where Steve was sitting and sniffed at a plastic bag of cookies that he had requested from Maude, the cook.
“I know what Hobo wants.” Steve laughed and held up the sack. “He wants to eat a cookie. Do you want to give him one?”
There was no visible response on her face, but as Hobo did some dancing turns, begging for the cookie, Penny slowly moved closer to the table.
As Steve held out the sack to her, the dog poked at it with his nose, drooling with anticipation. “Do you want to give Hobo a cookie?”
Without even a responding flicker of her eyelashes, she took the sack, pulled out a cookie and gave it to Hobo. Then she handed the sack back to Steve.
“Does Penny want a cookie?”
As if she hadn’t heard him, the little girl’s eyes flickered to the closed door and back again.
The first hurdle had come.
Steve kept his smile relaxed as she just stood there. Would Penny accept the time allotment? Or would she challenge his authority to keep her in the playroom? Would she waste precious time in tantrums as some children did?
He waited. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the timer and Hobo’s chomping down his cookie. After a moment, Penny lowered her head, fixed her eyes on the floor and just stood there. She looked so small, alone and vulnerable that it was all he could do not to reach a hand out to her, but he knew that building the child’s inner strength could not be imposed from the outside. Deanna’s love would have healed the little girl if tender caring was all that was needed.
“For the time we have together, Penny, you can do just as you please. If there’s something you want to play with, you can. But if you don’t want to play, you don’t have to,” he assured her again.
Slowly Penny lifted her eyes from the floor, looked at the door and then back to him. Then she let her gaze go around the room.
Steve breathed a silent Good girl. He couldn’t direct the little girl or make any suggestions. For the hour she spent with him each day, Penny had to feel perfectly free to do whatever interested her, or to do nothing at all. All he could do was provide a safe environment so she would feel free to express the dark forces that kept her withdrawn. The traumatic blockage that made her fearful of being herself had to be removed, and only when he knew what that was could he help her back to normalcy. He pretended interest in making notes in a small notebook, wondering how long she would stand there.
Very slowly Penny began walking around the room. Once again she passed over all the toys and equipment without touching anything. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw her stop in front of a large window overlooking the grounds below. With purposeful deliberation, she pulled the cord that closed the drapes, shutting out the bright sunlight. Then she walked over to a small exercise mat in one corner of the room and lay on it. When Hobo came over to sniff at her, she pulled him down beside her.
Steve made the proper notes for his record, then he stretched his long legs out in front of him and waited to see what she would do next.
Nothing.
Penny lay there, staring at the ceiling for a long time. The hour passed and when the timer rang both Penny and her dog were asleep.
The dog lifted his head as Steve came over to the mat and sat beside the sleeping child. “Time to wake up, Penny.”
Long eyelashes fringing her pale cheeks lifted slowly. For a moment, Penny’s eyes were clear, but instantly darkened with shadows as she sat up.
“You had a nice nap,” Steve said reassuringly. “And so did Hobo.
Flushed with sleep, Penny rubbed her eyes, and at that moment she looked soft and cuddly. The child had inherited the same fine cameo features as her mother, and the same hint of natural curl in her corn-silk hair. No doubt Penny had inherited her mother’s strong will as well. Deanna had said that her daughter was a vivacious and outgoing child before the night her father was murdered.
The personality change was an effect of the trauma, and Steve knew that Penny’s withdrawal was a protective instinct, a barricade against frightening circumstances. How soon she would be willing to lower it would depend in great part upon how quickly she would trust him.
“It’s time for lunch. Are you hungry?”
No response.
“We’ll shut up the playroom until tomorrow. This is yours and Hobo’s place—no one else’s.”
Penny got up and walked slowly to the door. Then she stood there waiting for Steve to open it. When he turned the knob, showing that it wasn’t locked, he knew from the almost imperceptible flicker of her eyelids that she was surprised. Would the little girl have stayed if she’d known she could turn the knob and walk out?
Deanna was waiting for them in the hall, and for the last ten minutes she’d been looking at her watch, wondering what was going on inside that room. As they came out, she couldn’t tell from Steve’s face whether things had gone well or not, but he laughed as Penny and Hobo bounded down the stairs, so she took that to be a good sign.
Her smile held an unspoken, “Well?”
“Everything went fine.” That’s all Steve was going to say at the moment. As he’d explained to Deanna before, he never discussed with parents the specifics of what went on during therapy unless he felt he needed some more information that parents could supply, or it was time to share something with them that had a bearing on the child’s continued progress. A casual remark made by a parent could easily destroy the trust the child was building in the therapist.
Steve doubted that Deanna would be able to appreciate the importance of Penny’s nonresistance to staying in the room. Until a child was willing to stay an hour in the room, there was little chance of success using play therapy. She had no idea how long and fierce that battle could be.
Deanna translated his noncommittal answer—he really wasn’t going to talk about the sessions, at least not now. It wouldn’t be easy to curb her desire to know everything that was happening to her child, but she would have to trust him to tell her the things she should know. Deanna was determined not to be one of those anxious parents who put a doctor through the third degree every chance they got.
“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” she asked in her hotel-activities director’s voice.
“Any suggestions?” he asked in the same light tone.