Vodka Doesn't Freeze by Leah Giarratano Read Free Book Online Page B

His adoptive parents had complained that he was aggressive, wouldn't shower, and was non-compliant. One caseworker had labelled the adoptive father as 'controlling' and 'aggressive'. Another had said that John was 'attention-seeking' and had 'deliberately sabotaged his placement' because of 'an inferiority complex'. The same writer had noted and dismissed John's claims that his adoptive father had molested him.
     
Although repeatedly exposed to it, Mercy never ceased to be horrified by the ineptitude of some of the departmental carers these children were entrusted to. The department claimed to have lost the remainder of John Jacobs' file, but he'd told Mercy that he'd been repeatedly sent back to the same family until he ran away at the age of fourteen and lived on the streets.
     
John's account of his time with the family was disjointed and blurred by delusional thinking, but one theme predominated. He claimed he'd been a prize in a game played by a group of men. His adoptive father played the game and John had been a 'party favour', swapped around amongst members of the group. Because he also spoke of the Secret Service using his brain to create a supercomputer that would one day control the world, Mercy had always only half-listened to him, aware that his words were distorted by mental illness.
     
Now, however, she scavenged through his account, foraging for potential truths amongst the chaos that was this patient's reality.
     
Her files were growing daily.
     

9
'I DON'T SEE WHY we had to come out here this arvo,' grumbled Scotty, steering the car with one hand, nursing a Pepsi with the other. To accommodate his long legs, he had adjusted the seat back as far as it would go; he was practically sitting in the back seat.
     
Beside him, an open street directory lay on Jill's lap. Her feet were up on the dashboard.
     
'Are you serious?' she asked. 'Don't you think it's kind of significant that Mercy Merris has counselled victims of all three dead men? We've got to talk to her – she could be a link.'
     
'Yeah, but it's boiling. And we're going to Richmond, for God's sake. We could've just called her.'
     
Jill had called Mercy, and she knew they were coming.
     
They'd been driving west for just over an hour. The builtup shopping strips and unit-blocks had given way to huge, blank-faced factory estates as they made their way through the afternoon traffic. It seemed like half of Sydney was heading home to the western suburbs.
     
Reading the map while travelling left Jill feeling queasy. She pressed her forehead against the window. Parched bushland bordered the two-lane road. The scrub was broken every now and then by a ranch-style house, or a service station.
     
'Another friggin' speed camera! Can you believe this shit?' Scotty backed off the pedal a little. The car's dashboard display still registered 41 degrees outside, even though it was now after 3 p.m. Scotty had been bitching for the past thirty minutes.
     
Jill tuned out and thought about the last time she'd met Dr Mercy Merris. A psychodynamic psychotherapist in private practice, Dr Merris used to do some work for the New South Wales Police Service. She'd counselled cops who had problems at home, with the boss, or who, like Jill, had attended a fatal, or a shooting incident, and had been sent to a shrink for a mandatory debrief.
     
Like most cops, Jill hadn't wanted to go to counselling. In fact, having spent a year in therapy at fifteen, she was even more reluctant than most. So she'd been surprised when she found the obligatory three meetings helpful. She'd gone to the sessions determined to say as little as she could and get out as soon as possible, but had found it easy to talk to Mercy. Dr Merris had recommended more treatment; but hey, she didn't like it that much.
     
An approaching intersection snapped her from her thoughts. 'Turn left here, Scotty.'
     
'Finally,' he grumbled five minutes later, steering the car into the drive of the private