Nerve Center
“he told Geraldo. “My wife, I mean. Five years.”The psychiatrist put her hand to her mouth, pinching her lower lip between her thumb and forefinger. She nodded, then slowly reached for her coffee mug. She wanted him to talk about Karen. It was almost as if she had a magnet in her brain, trying to draw out the words, but Madrone resisted.Not resisted exactly. He had nothing to say. He couldn’t even form a picture of Karen in his mind.If he thought about it, if he analyzed it the way Dr. Geraldo o...bviously wanted, he might have found the day that it had happened, the moment he’d gotten over her. He’d been obsessed with her for a long time after she’d left him, fantasizing about getting her back, fantasizing about confronting her—and yes, even fantasizing about killing her, though he would never admit it.Probably, that was what Geraldo wanted to hear. But he wasn’t going to tell her that.Christina, his daughter, his poor dead daughter—she was locked away in a place he’d allow no one to enter, not Geraldo, not even himself.MoreLess
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