Chapter 84: THE SEARCH FOR ANSWERS

Dean

Will Dana’s accident ever cease being a part of my present life? I wonder as I drive home from the coffee shop. No matter how hard I try to move on, the accident always returns to haunt me. After my closed door hearings, I blocked out as many memories as I could. I didn’t want to remember waking up to the news of Dana’s death. I didn’t want to wake up to police investigations, accusations, or more and more interrogations. It seems that if I ever want to move on with my life with Lace in it, I have to remember everything that happened that night in as much graphic detail as I can. I make a mental note to ask my father if he still has the files he demanded from his private investigator. I park my car behind my father’s truck and rush inside the house. I hope my father is home today. His truck parked in the driveway is not a guarantee that he is home since he also has a Harley Davidson bike he loves riding.

“Hey,” my father greets me. He is sitting the living room watching an old football game. He’s a genius in predicting game scores of upcoming matches.

“Hey, dad.” I pause not quite sure how to bring up the topic.

“What’s wrong?” my father asks, saving me the trouble.

“I need your help dad.” I sit on a chair across him.

My father pauses the recording of the game. “Tell me how I can help you.”

I wonder if my father will agree to help me or not. A part of me is scared he will say no.

“I will do whatever it takes to see you smile again,” he says.

“Thank you, dad,” I say, relieved.

“So tell me how I can help you,” he says gently.

“I…it would help me if you could please give me the files from your own private investigation that you carried out after Dana’s accident.” I cross my fingers and hope he doesn’t say no despite his assurance.

“I’ll give you a copy,” he says, his expression neutral, “are you sure you can handle what is in the investigator’s report?”

I nod. “I hope so.”

“I also had my own team of forensics experts analyze the vehicle you were in, recheck blood splatter patterns, and run their own toxicology reports.” He pauses. “Those reports aren’t pretty.”

“I don’t expect them to be,” I tell my father. He was the first person in the world who believed I was innocent. I know that he didn’t leave any stone unturned when he had his own team prove that the initial reports into the accident were inconsistent.

“I’ll make sure you get them by this afternoon. In the mean time I hope you will consider meeting with the psychologist who helped you overcome the trauma of the accident and return to school.” My father motions for me to sit next to him. “I don’t want you blaming yourself for what happened that night, Dean. I know that I raised you well. I know that you had a designated driver that evening. I spoke to your friends myself, remember. If you want to prove yourself innocent once and for all, and put all this behind you, I suggest that you see your psychologist first. I don’t want to see you broken again.”

The emotion in my father’s voice brings me to tears. “I am so sorry I put you through all of that,” I tell him.

“I can’t imagine what Dana’s family went through,” he tells me, “but if you do this right, you will help her family get justice for Dana too.”

My father is right. Dealing with the accident and Dana’s death caused me to spiral into a deep depression. The people I’d always considered as my friends no longer wanted to be seen with me. Only Jason had stuck by my side through thick and thin. He has always been my truest friend. But right now, I don’t need Jason. I need to mentally prepare myself for what I am about to do. I have to see my psychologist before I relive the events of that night.

“I spoke to Dr. Lovisa Jordan, the day you came back home,” my father says, “she said she will see you any time you are ready.”

Instead of being angry that my father already spoke to Dr. Jordan, my psychologist, I am grateful. I doubt I would have taken this step myself to talk to a professional therapist to work out the best steps forward so that I can leave my past behind me. “Thank you.” I leave the living room and call Dr. Jordan immediately.

“Hello, Dean. It’s so wonderful to hear from you,” she tells me, “how have you been keeping?”

“I guess I have been good,” I reply, “I’d like to see you if you have any slots available.”

“Sure. I can see you in an hour, if that suits you,” she says.

“That’s perfect.” Dr. Jordan’s office is just three blocks away. She practices from her home office which is in one of the quietest neighborhoods in Manhattan.

I freshen up quickly and leave. I don’t want to be late for this therapy session. “I’m going to see Dr. Jordan,” I tell my father on my way out. He smiles and nods at me and then continues watching the game.

My heart races as I drive to Dr. Jordan’s address. The automated gate opens as soon as I near her home. She is standing outside and waves for me to come to her office. A mixture of fear and relief surge through me in the same instant.

“It’s good to see you again, Dean,” she says once I am seated in her all too familiar office. I can still recall the last time I was here. I barely spoke. I hadn’t wanted to speak at all about the accident.

“It’s good to be here,” I tell her honestly. I know that today I will get the answers I need. I can feel it.

“I know that the decision you made to return to therapy wasn’t an easy one for you to make. So can you tell me what brought you here?” she asks me.

“I don’t want to lose my girlfriend because of my past,” I tell her honestly.

She nods again. “Tell me how why you think your past is affecting your current relationship?” she asks me.

I take a deep breath. “Someone has been stalking me and sending me threatening notes about that night. They installed cameras in my girlfriend’s apartment and sent me a naked picture of her taking a shower.” I shiver at the memory. “We were living together in her apartment.”

“What’s your girlfriend’s name?” she asks.

“Lace Higgins.”

“Does Lace know about the accident?” she asks me.

“Yeah, I told her about the accident after a few months of living with her,” I admit with a twinge of guilt.

“A few months? Why didn’t you tell Lace upfront about the accident?” Dr. Jordan asks.

“She knew that I was involved in an accident before I moved in with her,” I tell her, “she just didn’t know all the details of the accident.” I sigh. “I wish I had been honest with her.”

“What happened after you told her about the accident?” she asks.

I shrug. “She moved out.”

“So Lace moved out of her own apartment?” Dr. Jordan is shocked. “Are you still living there?”

I shake my head. “No, I couldn’t live there without Lace. I moved out too.”

“Have you heard from your stalker since you moved out?” she asks me.

“No.” For the first time I realize why Lace insisted that we stay apart for a while. Her plan seems to have befuddled my stalker. “It was Lace’s idea for us to live apart for a while.”

“How did that make you feel?” Dr. Jordan asks me.

“Like crap. Like my entire world was crumbling around me. That is why I decided to come to you. I want to remember what happened that night. I don’t want to remain a victim of that accident all my life especially when I clearly recall I was in the back seat with Dana. We were making out a lot.” Clear images of that night flash in my head. “I wish I could go back to that night and see who was driving.”

“Do you think that the driver is the one stalking you?” Dr. Jordan asks me.

“Maybe. But since Dana was the only one who died in that accident, I am guessing the driver is still alive. Perhaps they can tell me who was driving that night.”

Dr. Jordan smiles. “Maybe there is a way for you to go back to that night,” she says.

“I’ll do anything,” I say. I am so desperate for answers.

“How do you feel about hypnosis?” she asks.

I shiver. Hypnosis is so scary. The thought of anyone delving into the deep, dark secrets my mind holds and protects scares the living daylights out of me. "As I said I will do whatever it takes for me to clear my name and to prove I didn't kill Dana," I tell Dr. Jordan.

"Let's begin now," she says, "I want you to lean back, relax and take a deep breaths."

My heart pounds against my rib cage. I have to do this, I remind myself. I do not want to spend the rest of my life regretting not fighting for Lace. I want to clear my name. I want to marry Lace and have my happy ever after with her. As I close my eyes and follow Dr. Jordan's instructions, I slip back into the past, into the night Dana died.

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