Chapter 27

In the first week of the new year, two psychiatrists, speaking for the panel that had been employed to evaluate Greg, came to the Overland mansion to give their report. Brandon, Penelope, Genevieve, and Greg's lead lawyer were in the meeting. After the introductions, the lead doctor took the floor.

"We have put Greg through the entire battery of tests and examinations that we described to you beforehand. We can go into as much detail as you would like, but let me summarize. He is definitely suffering from a pronounced psychosis. However, we do not believe his mental condition would justify an insanity defense under the rules employed by court-appointed psychiatrists.

"Members of the team have at times worked for the court, so we are familiar with the standards. Your son's psychological profile correlates closely with a large percentage of the inmates of our prisons." He had to pause a moment for Penelope's gasp. "Thus, it is highly unlikely that the plea would be accepted. It has failed too many other times for defendants with similar profiles."

Penelope had become increasingly agitated as the doctor spoke, and she finally could not hold back. "Must you talk about Greg as if he is a criminal?"

The doctor looked to Genevieve, obviously the family's leader, and received a slight nod. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Overland, but your son IS a criminal. He badly beat a young man and tried to rape a young girl, and..."

"He couldn't have done those things!" Penelope insisted.

"Mrs. Overland, we have techniques for determining truthfulness that are as good as any polygraph. The team is unanimous in their belief that Greg is indeed guilty of all of the things he was accused of."

Penelope's face cycled through a rainbow of emotions before settling on a sickly pallor that looked like she was about to be ill. The second doctor was watching her closely, helped her to her feet, and ushered her from the room. The group recessed until Penelope returned about twenty minutes later. She was composed, but still looked strained and pale.

Making no reference to Penelope's absence or her condition, the lead doctor continued his summary. "It is highly unfortunate that Greg cannot be admitted to a treatment center instead of prison." There was pause for another gasp from Penelope. "Without some intensive psychiatric treatment, he will never be able to merge into a normal social environment. Were it not for his current charges, it would only be a matter of time before he ran afoul of the law in some other way."

Another hour was spent in questions and explanations. Genevieve asked most of the questions and Brandon made a few inquiries. Penelope just sat and listened, looking more stressed as time passed.

A key question from Brandon was why Greg would not enter into his rehabilitation.

"We believe that is all part of the disconnect from reality that is typical of psychosis. To Greg, what is happening to him is not possible. It does not fit his reality - his distorted view of the world and his position in it. Since it cannot be true, he refuses to participate in anything that is going on. That, of course, is a highly paraphrased picture of a highly complex situation."

"Is there anything we can do to get him to start rehab?" Brandon followed up.

"That has been a topic of a great deal of discussion among the team members. We are not sure how to accomplish it, but the consensus is that a challenge to his manhood that he cannot just ignore would be one possibility. He is able to turn away and shrug off most things with a great show of disinterest.

"That show of disinterest is not an act. He really does not care about most things around him. The one thing he retains is an exalted view of his own virility - his manhood. As I said, we are not sure how that view could be manipulated to get him off of dead center.

"One thing we are quite certain about. No amount of positive stroking of his manhood will have any effect. It will have to be insulting, derisive, even humiliating before it will break through his shell."

The vehicle carrying the two doctors was not yet out of the driveway when Genevieve dialed her account rep at the PI firm. "Find me a physical therapist: female; as attractive as possible; able to defend herself from attack if necessary; preferably with a reason to hate men; willing to do anything for a great deal of money.

Three days later, Genevieve was having painful flashbacks to her first meeting with Cheryl as she sat face to face with the therapist candidate. Robin was thirtyish, slender, athletic, and sexy. In fact, she evoked images of Cheryl the moment Genevieve saw her.

"Have you been briefed on Greg?" Genevieve started off.

"First my check," Robin insisted, holding out her hand. Genevieve had guaranteed her several hundred dollars just for coming out for an interview.

"Didn't have to be briefed," Robin said as she put the check in her purse. "Us rape victims tend to keep track of the slime balls." Genevieve was ready to berate Robin for her characterization of Greg when she looked in the young woman's eyes. She saw a naked challenge, but she also saw real hatred. Robin hated Greg without ever having met him.

Genevieve remembered the doctor's comments about how to pierce through Greg's shell. Perhaps honest, undisguised hatred was a way to get to him. Thinking of the other characterizations, Genevieve reasoned that Greg would not think such hatred possible. Instead of ignoring it, he might just try to eradicate it. Nothing else had worked. What was there to lose? Money was not an issue, as usual.

"Will you take the case?" Genevieve asked.

"No."

"No? Then why are you here? You would take that check under false pretenses?"

"What have I said from the very first?" Robin demanded. "I never gave you any hope that I would take it, did I?"

"Then why did you bother to come?"

"You're a fool to offer me that much money just to come out here. I'm no fool. I'll take the money."

"And it doesn't bother your conscience?"

"Greg is a rapist. You are trying to keep a rapist from justice. You deserve anything that is done to you," Robin said boldly. "You have no right to ask me about conscience!"

Genevieve hoped that her wince was not noticed. That comment struck her very hard. In her dealings with Cheryl, she had often sensed the contempt, and it was difficult for her to understand. How could the 'have nots' harbor contempt for the 'haves'? That was backwards. The world did not work that way.

Yet this young woman triggered feelings of guilt that had been growing in Genevieve for some time. Robin had been raped and she had not received justice. She had worked hard for everything she had accomplished. Genevieve was indeed guilty of subverting justice on behalf of her family. That had always gone against the way she was raised. But still, family came first.

Now, it appeared certain that Greg would receive what Genevieve grudgingly admitted was justice. All she was doing now was giving him a chance to go into prison in better physical shape. For that, she could ignore the stirrings of her conscience.

Genevieve had cycled through these thoughts in a momentary pause after Robin's last verbal blast. "The reason I brought you here and paid you that money is to offer you enough more money to do what you swear you will never do. Is that clear enough?" She was back in Genevieve mode, scruples set aside for the task at hand.

"There isn't enough money to make me help him."

"Robin, do not insult my intelligence or your own. There is always a price." Genevieve had sensed that the only way to deal with Robin was to be just as pugnacious and combative as she was.

Of course, there was a price, a price that made Cheryl look like a volunteer. Genevieve had to work hard not to admire Robin's ethics, though. It was Robin who insisted that she be paid only when specified milestones were achieved.

When the agreement had been reached, Robin had one parting shot. "This has been fun, actually, and I'm glad I was paid for it. But we both know this is the last you will see of me. The way I intend to treat your grandson, only the most twisted son-of-a-bitch alive would have anything to do with me."

Genevieve shivered visibly at that comment, afraid that Robin had characterized Greg perfectly.

Greg was reminded of Cheryl the moment he saw Robin. Robin's demeanor was not at all like Cheryl's, however. At first introduction, she did not extend her hand in greeting. In fact, she just stood with hands on hips staring at him, not saying a word.

"What the hell are you staring at?" Greg demanded after the staring contest went on for about two minutes. Penelope was standing there the whole time, having brought Robin into Greg's suite.

"A foiled rapist who has just given up," Robin spat back in a scornful tone.

"Young lady!" Penelope shouted, "you have no call to speak to him that way! This was a mistake! I'll show you out."

"No you won't! She stays!" Genevieve had followed behind the two women and now walked in to take charge.

"But... but she thinks he was guilty!" Penelope objected.

"He IS guilty!" Genevieve stated firmly. "You are the only person in the world who won't acknowledge that."

"But she can't talk to him that way!" Penelope seemed on the verge of tears.

"Fine!" Robin interjected. "If I can't do things my way, I'll be happy to leave. This is supposed to be my vacation, anyway."

"No!" Genevieve shouted. "Penelope, just leave!" Then softening her voice, she added "Please!"

"Listen," Robin said, "I'm not putting up with any interference if I decide to stay. If he's not making any progress, then fire me. Otherwise, I don't want to see anyone except on payday. Agreed?" By this time, Genevieve was leading a sniffling Penelope from the suite.

As soon as the women were gone, Greg started a slow, derisive clapping.

"Don't get too cheerful," Robin told him. "I doubt if I'll even be here past lunchtime."

"Then why did you bother?" Greg demanded.

"Curiosity," Robin replied. "I've only met a rapist once before. And I've only met a few orthopedic patients who've given up. I guess anyone who can do what you did isn't really man enough for rehab anyway."

"Fuckin' bitch! What the hell do you know about anything?" Greg shouted at her.

"Well, I was raped once, so I know what kind of a scumbag it takes to do something like that. Your victim was lucky. She had help. I wasn't so lucky."

"So why would you want to work with me, then, if you think I'm a rapist."

"Fortunately, you're an incompetent rapist. Why would I want to? Money, pure and simple. The bonus is huge. Did you know your parents pay a graduated bonus the longer I stay on the job? And if you meet certain goals, well, I can go back to school."

"Fat chance! Why would I want you around, anyway? Get the hell out of here!"

"Yeah, that's probably for the best. Working with a loser like you isn't worth the money," Robin said with a dramatic sigh. She walked to the door of the suite, but instead of leaving, she paused, locked the door, turned to face him, and stared at him for nearly a minute. Then, she quickly shed all of her clothes.

Greg was stunned, but recovered quickly and with a derisive laugh, asked "So you're gonna try and use sex as an incentive?"

"No way! I wouldn't let that little infected weenie near me on a bet."

"Whadya mean? I was clean a month ago."

"Huh uh. Two months more until you're final on AIDS."

"How the hell did you find that out?"

"It's not exactly a secret, you know," she said with a laugh.

"Well, that's," and he waved at her body, "not much incentive anyway."

"Oh, really? I thought I looked a lot like Cheryl."

"That bitch!"

"You know, I've found out quite a bit about Cheryl. Can't figure out why she went out with a loser like you. It's almost as if someone was paying her."

"Shit! Did my damned Grandma tell you that fairy tale?"

"Nope. She never said a thing about Cheryl," Robin chortled, "but you even told me who paid her."

"Fuck! So what the hell are you wavin' your dinky tits at me for, then?"

"Well, I thought as long as I took the trouble to come out here, I'd make sure you knew what a pathetic loser you turned into. You haven't had any since August, now. Part of that time, you couldn't even do yourself 'cause it was too sore. Now, here I am with the door locked, standing here naked. You're so pathetic you couldn't catch me if your life depended on it."

"Hey, I've got a wrecked knee, in case you haven't heard. Fuckin' ninja kicker!"

"No, you don't have a wrecked knee. You've got a skillfully repaired knee. The best that money can buy. By now, you should be walking unaided with only a limp. Instead, you can hardly get out of that chair to go and pee. That's pathetic."

"Fuck you! It hurts!"

"Awwwwwww! Greggy got a bad owie? Hey, I've worked with athletes - real men. They had worse pain than you've ever seen. And you know what? They sucked it up. Stood the pain and got better. A lot of them played again."

"Yeah, but the doc said that probably wouldn't happen."

"He probably said that because he knew you were a pussy who couldn't handle the pain." Greg could not come up with a response to that and sat sullenly.

"And you know what else is pathetic?"

"I'm sure you're gonna tell me," he spat out.

"Damn right. What else is pathetic is what's going to happen to you in prison."

"Prison! Will everyone just quit yappin' about prison! I'm not going to prison."

"Sure you are. You don't have the balls to kill yourself, and that's the only way out of it. You know it. Everybody knows it.

"When you get there, big black Rufus is going to want to shove his fat, infected, foot-long cock up your virgin ass and give you AIDS for real. You won't have a chance of getting away, 'cause you still won't be able to walk.

"And you sure won't be able to fight him off with that flab that used to be muscles. Of course, maybe that gut you're growing will turn him off so much he won't want you. Are they just letting you eat whatever you want? God! I heard you used to be a football stud. Hard to believe." Robin dramatically shook her head.

"Why the hell would you want to work with me, anyway?"

"I don't want to. I'd rather castrate you - probably only need a nail clipper to do it. I told you before, it's strictly money. Lots and lots of money!"

"Are you done?!" Greg demanded angrily.

"Yep. I'm leaving." With that, Robin quickly dressed. "Oh, I told your Grandma I'd stay until after lunch to give you a chance to reconsider. Not that I think there's any chance of that.

"Beside, I've got a more satisfying offer. Twelve-year-old girl, gymnast, tore up her knee worse than yours. But she swears she'll be ready for Olympic trials next year. I believe her - know why? 'Cause she's got something you don't - she's got balls.

"In the unlikely event you find some manhood by lunchtime, I'll be waiting down in the gym from one until one-ten, no later." With that, Robin walked out of the suite with a swish of her hips.

No one ever figured out what had drawn Greg so strongly to Cheryl. Likewise, no one ever figured out why Robin was the one who finally got him rehabbing with some seriousness.

She never let up on the ridicule, the derision, and the heartfelt hatred she freely showed for him. Never once did she break down and say a tender, encouraging, or sympathetic word, convinced that if she did, the progress would stop. Besides that, her hatred for him never softened.

She forbad anyone from watching Greg's sessions, although only Penelope showed any interest. When Greg had reached a milestone, Robin insisted on his doctor coming out to verify the progress for payment purposes.

Besides the knee rehab, she immediately had him working on weights, and she ordered in a rowing machine for some aerobic intensity. It was a risk doing strenuous rowing with only one leg, but other than swimming, it was the only cardiovascular workout she could think of.

Unbeknownst to Greg, Robin was like Cheryl in another way. Robin was waiting for Greg to make a move that would allow her to quit. After her rape, she had taken self-defense classes, and had even become an instructor. She had no fear of Greg, physically, but one pass and she would no longer be able to stand him, even for the money.

Greg was way behind in recovering his strength and mobility, but there was no physical reason his knee should not be as good as any weekend athlete's. Of course, weekend athletes did not play NCAA or NFL football.

Only with a psyche as distorted as Greg's would Robin's approach have worked, but it did.

Just after New Year's, Cal arranged for Tessa to talk to Dex, and Dex got her in contact with Carl Plonske, who had a growing investigation and security business. Since it was just advice and direction, it was a new kind of assignment for Carl, but he found it a pleasant break. They spent a few hours discussing what kinds of proof Tessa would need and how she could acquire it.

At his insistence and to Tessa's delight, Vick was with Tessa constantly during the discussions, and he was soon entering in fully. He had a cynical, suspicious streak that offset Tessa's naturally upbeat, positive way of thinking. Several times, she looked at him in wonder when he asked questions or posed possibilities that she had not considered.

It was decided that research should follow the time sequence of events. The first event was the removal of Coach Meinert from the high school job. To Carl's agreement, it was Vick who immediately said "Money! The Overlands must have given the college a donation to get them to hire Meinert."

That led to a discussion of how that donation could be uncovered. All non-profit organizations are required to report all donations, but that data is not necessarily public.

"This is the kind of information that usually has to be bought," Carl told them. "Do you have money for some bribes?" Told that both the Banners and the Walts had agreed to contribute, Carl suggested "Why don't you let me work through an agency in that town. I have contacts who can tell me who is good, and any competent investigator should be able to get that info."

"It doesn't really seem like I'm doing much, though, does it," Tessa lamented.

"Someday, when you have more experience and a newspaper or TV station budget behind you, you will be able to buy the info yourself. Actually, though, I have done a number of similar things for news organizations who want to keep some distance from the grubby details."

"Well, as soon as we get proof of donations," Tessa stated, "We want to interview Coach Meinert. Cal said he thought he could set it up. After all, Coach Meinert didn't do anything wrong."

"No, he didn't," Vick interjected, "but he might be reluctant because it could cause him trouble at the college if the story got out."

Proof of a sizable donation to the college's athletic capital fund took less than two weeks and just a few thousand dollars to acquire. The investigator was able to determine that the donation came from Penelope Overland's personal fund and was accompanied by a smaller donation from the Clark family. Neither family had any previous connection of any kind with the college.

Confirmation of the donations erased any lingering doubt among the Banners and Walts about Cal's theory. Now, Tessa had to move forward along the time line and find other supporting data. She was unlikely to find anything more as concrete as the donations. Instead, she would have to look for suspicious circumstances and hope for revealing answers from people that she questioned.

Cal spent an hour on the phone with Coach Meinert one evening, and got his agreement to talk with Tessa and Vick. "Cal, this all fits. I'm doing fine with the team, but from the first day, I've sensed resentment among the administration that just won't go away. Besides that, my wife is terribly unhappy here. If those bastards really did use me in their scheme, I want to get them, even if it costs me this job."

After some more discussion, Meinert told Cal "You know, the Clarks and Overlands tried to blackmail Jameson to force me to put their boys on the team last year? They gave me all kinds of grief, too, but they had nothing to pressure me with."

"I thought you were pretty stressed-out that first week," Cal replied. "Can I tell Tessa that?"

"At this point, anything she can find out will be fine. I am really pissed about this whole thing. I'm absolutely certain that your theory is right."

When Cal told Tessa about his conversation with Meinert, she instinctively set herself to leap on him and kiss him. She barely caught herself and could not keep the tears from clouding her eyes. Cal again had to take the reassuring, comforting role. He vowed at that point that any future such conversations with Tessa would only take place with Vick and/or Cheryl present. It was just too hard on both of the old friends.

"It has to be a lover," Vick said immediately when Tessa mentioned the blackmail attempt on Principal Jameson. "And it must have been a woman."