Read Online Silent Partner by Jonathan Kellerman - Free Book Online Page A

instruct the parents and siblings to start twitching and shaking, too. Exaggeratedly. He said once the symptom became part of the family norm, it would cease to have rebellion value for the boy and would drop out of his behavioral repertoire."
    "Why's that?"
    She shook her head. "It's his theory, not mine."
    I said nothing, maintained a look of curiosity.
    "Okay, okay," she said. "According to Paul, symptoms are communications. Because the tic communication wouldn't be unique anymore, the kid would have to find some other way of working through his rebellion."
    It sounded ill-conceived, potentially cruel, and made me wonder about Dr. Paul Kruse. "I see."
    "Hey, I thought it was bullshit too," said Aurora. "Going to tell Paul that, next week."
    "Sure you will," said someone.
    "Watch me." She closed the chart and put it back in her bag. "Meanwhile, this poor little boy's shaking and twitching and his self-esteem is going right down the tubes."
    "Have you thought of Tourette's syndrome?" I asked.
    She dismissed the question with a frown. "Of course. But he doesn't swear."
    "Not all Tourette's patients do."
    "Paul said symptoms didn't conform to a typical Tourette's pattern."
    "In what way?"
    Another weary look. Her answer took five minutes and was seriously flawed. My doubt about Kruse grew.
    "I still think you should consider Tourette's," I said. "We don't know enough about the syndrome to exclude atypical cases. My advice is, refer the boy to a pediatric neurologist.
    Haldol may be indicated."
    "Ye olde medical model," said Julian. He tamped his pipe, relit it.
    Aurora moved her jaws as if chewing.
    "What are you feeling now?" one of the other men asked her. He was narrow-shouldered and thin, with rusty hair tied in a ponytail, and a drooping, ragged mustache. He wore a wrinkled brown corduroy suit, button-down shirt, extra-wide rep tie, and dirty sneakers, and spoke in a Page 42

    soft, musical voice saturated with empathy. But unctuous, like a confessor or kiddie-show host.
    "Share your feelings with us, Aurora."
    "Oh, Christ." She turned to me: "Yeah, I'll do what you say. If the medical model is what it takes, so be it."
    "You sound frustrated," said the gray-haired woman.
    Aurora turned on her. "Let's cut the shit and move on, okay?"
    Before Gray Hair could reply, the door opened. All eyes drifted upward. All eyes hardened.
    A beautiful black-haired girl stood in the doorway, holding an armful of books. Girl, not woman—she looked girlish, could have been an undergrad, and for a moment I thought she'd come to the wrong place.
    But she stepped into the room.
    My first thought was time warp: She had a dark, wounded beauty, like an actress in one of those black-and-white late-show films noirs, where good and evil blur, visual images vie for control with a sinuous jazz score, and everything ends ambiguously.
    She wore a clinging pink knit dress piped with white and bisected by a white leather belt, pink pumps with medium heels. Her hair had been rolled and set, every strand in place, gleaming.
    Her face was powdered, mas-caraed, her lips glossed a wet-looking pink. The dress reached her knees. The leg that showed was shapely, encased in sheer nylon. Her jewelry was real gold, her nails long and polished—the hue of the polish identical to that of the dress but precisely one shade deeper.
    And perfume—the fragrance cut through the stateness of the room: soap and water, fresh grass, and spring flowers.
    All curves and swells, porcelain whiteness and dusty rose, flawlessly put together. Almost painfully out of place in that sea of denim and deliberate drabness.
    "Suzy Creamcheese," somebody muttered.
    She heard it and winced, looked around for a place to sit. No empty spaces. No one moved. I shifted to one side, said, "Over here."
    She stared at me.
    "He's Dr. Delaware," said Julian. "Alex. He's endured the rites and rituals of this department and emerged seemingly unscathed."
    She gave a fleeting smile, sat down next to me,