�You�ve been like this since the accident?� the psychiatrist asked.

The patient reminded him of a human time bomb that was about to explode into a thousand guilt ridden pieces. Cadaverous, bruise-like blotches encircled the man�s frightened green eyes, and dusky skin was stretched taut over his sallow death mask of a face. He periodically thrust trembling fingers through his curly auburn hair, spiking it and adding the coup de grace to a wild man demeanor.

Marc Brandt tightened his lips under a thin black mustache, distressed at the pitiful state his friend and patient had worked himself into. Rob was concentration camp thin. He wore battered loafers with no socks, and the tail of his shirt flapped against the ragged jeans that bagged on his lanky frame. Once handsome and confident to the point of cockiness, the man was now nothing but a tormented wreck.

Rob Anderson was taking his wife�s death hard.

�I�ve been like this ever since she�went.� Rob raised a coffee cup to his lips, spilled a wet brown stain down the front of his shirt, and shook his head despairingly. �I can�t sleep, and I can�t eat. I can�t think about anything but her, damn it! When a shadow moves, I immediately think�hope�that it�s Jess. I can feel her, Marc all around me in the daytime and in bed at night. Sleeping pills hardly ever work and, when they do put me out, I dream. Not just about her, but about those dead people.� The tormented man shuddered, drained his cup, and let it fall to the floor with a muffled thud. �I try to drink it all away, but that just makes things worse the next day. Oh, God, I�d give anything to have her back.�

�But you two were separated when she died,� Marc pointed out.

�Yeah, I was giving her time to get her act together.� Rob�s voice took on a note of weary candor. �Oh, hell, who am I trying to kid? I had to get out. Things were happening that you wouldn�t believe! I was about to go crazy, too, right along with Jessa. She lost it after I left though. The woman went completely nuts.� Rob clenched his fingers into fists. �It was his fault�that damn pervert, I mean. She always acted goofy when he was around.� The man�s voice broke, and he buried his face in his hands. �If only we could go back. I swear I�d do things different.�

�So, you think the failure of the marriage was your fault?� Marc kept his voice cool and professional.

Rob jerked his face out of his hands, and a dull, haunted look crept into his eyes. �Sure it was. I yelled at her, cussed at her, and�hurt her. I treated her like I�ve never treated any woman in my life.� He winced at the memory and rubbed his forehead.

�Why did you do that?�

The patient sprang to his feet and began to pace the room like a caged animal. �She drove me to it,� he finally answered.

�How?�

Rob stopped pacing and stared at his friend through bewildered green eyes. �Why would you ask that? You know what happened between me and Jessa.�

�I know a lot, but there are things you know that I don�t. Hell, there are things I know that you don�t. You can like it or not, but I talked to Patrick Donovan, and he added a few more pieces to the puzzle.�

Rob sank into a seat again and rested his elbows on his knees. He put his chin in his hands and glared at the floor murderously.

�Why don�t we try to put things in perspective?� Marc continued quickly before his friend could explode at the mere mention of the "pervert�s" name. �We could look at the situation from Jessa�s point of view and try to understand why she acted the way she did.�

The anger drained from Rob�s face, and he rubbed his chin reflectively. �That woman was always fooling around with things that should�ve been left alone,� he said in a ruefully affectionate tone. �She was the force behind the poltergeist. You figured that out, didn�t you?�

�Of course.� The psychiatrist settled himself comfortably in the soft leather chair. �Now, let�s start at the beginning��