When The Bough Breaks

Looking back it seemed so logical, but at the time the associations had been remote.

"It's ironic," Towle was saying. "I prescribed Ritalin to control her behavior and it was that same prescription that caused her insomnia, that led her to be awake at the wrong time."

"Ironic," I said. "Now let's go in there and get her out. You're going to help me. When it's over I'll see to it that you're cared for properly."

He didn't say anything. Simply sat straight in the seat, working hard at looking noble.

"Are you requesting my help?"

"I am, Doctor."

"Request granted."

29

I lay on the floor of the Lincoln, covered by a blanket.

"My gun is pointed at your spine," I told him. "I don't expect any trouble but we haven't known each other long enough for trust to be worth much."

"I understand," he said. "I'm not offended."

He drove to the La Casa access road, turned left and steered smoothly and slowly to the chain link barrier. He identified himself to the voice on the squawk box and was let in. A brief stop at the guardhouse, an exchange of pleasantries, plenty of "Doctor, Sirs" from the guard and we were in.

He drove to the far end of the parking lot.

"Park away from the light," I whispered.

The car came to a halt.

"It's clear now," he said.

I crawled from under the blanket, got out of the car and motioned him to follow. We walked up the path, side by side. Counselors passed us in pairs, greeted him with deference and moved on. I tried to look like his associate.

La Casa was peaceful at night. Camp songs filtered through the trees. "A Hundred Bottles of Beer." "Oh Susanna." Children's voices. An off - key guitar. Microphoned adult commands. Mosquitoes and moths vied for space around mushroom lights imbedded in the foliage at our feet. The sweet smell of jasmine and oleander in the air. An occasional whiff of brine from the ocean, so close but unseen. To the right the open gray - green expanse of the Meadow. A pleasant enough graveyard… The Grove, dark as fudge, a piney refuge…

We passed the pool, taking care not to slip on the wet cement. Towle moved like an old warrior heading into his last battle, chin up, arms at his side, marching. I kept the .38 within easy reach.

We made it to the bunkers unnoticed.

"That one," I said. "With the blue door."

Down the ramp. A hard twist of the key and we were in.

The building was divided into two rooms. The one in the front was empty except for a single folding chair pushed under an aluminum bridge table. The walls were of unpainted block and smelled of mildew. The floors were cold slab concrete, as was the ceiling. A square black wound of skylight marked the ceiling's center. The only light came from a single, unadorned bulb.

She was in the back, on an army cot, covered with a coarse olive drab blanket and restrained with leather straps across her ankles and chest. Her arms were pinioned under the blanket. She breathed slowly, mouth open, sleeping, head to one side, her pale, tear - streaked skin translucent in the semidarkness. Wisps of hair hung loosely around her face. Tiny, vulnerable, lost.

At the foot of the cot was a plastic tray holding an uneaten, congealed fried egg, limp french fries, shriveled brown - tipped lettuce and an open wax container of milk.

"Untie her." I pointed the gun.

Towle bent over her, working in the dimness to unfasten the straps.

"What do you have her on?"

"Valium, high dose. Thorazine on top of that."

Dr. Towle's magic elixir.

He got the restraints loose and peeled back the blanket. She was wearing dirty jeans and a red - and white striped T - shirt with Snoopy on the front. He lifted the shirt and palpated her abdomen, took her pulse, felt her forehead: played doctor.

"She looks thin, but otherwise healthy," he pronounced.

"Wrap her back up. Can you carry her?"

"Certainly," he replied, miffed that I could doubt his strength.

"All right then, let's go."

He gathered her up in his arms, looking for all the world like the Great White Father. The child let out a sigh, a shudder, and clung to him.

"Keep her totally covered once we get outside."

I began a half - turn. A soft, musical voice at my back drawled:

"Don't move, Doctor Delaware, or you'll lose your fucking head."

I stood still.

"Put the young one down, Will. Take his gun."

Towle looked at me blankly. I shrugged. He placed Melody on the cot gently and covered her. I handed him the .38.

"Against the wall with your hands up, Doctor. Search him, Will."

Towle patted me down.

"Turn around."

McCaffrey stood there grinning, filling the opening between the two rooms, a.357 magnum in one hand, a Polaroid camera in the other. He wore an iridescent lime - green jumpsuit decorated with a score of snap - pockets and buckles, and matching lime patent leather shoes. In the dim light his complexion reflected greenly as well.

"Tsk, tsk, Willie. What mischief are we up to tonight?"

The great physician hung his head and shuffled nervously.