The Cathar Secret: A Lang Reilly Thriller by Gregg Loomis Page B

York. They see their only grandson maybe twice a year. My husband's father has the beginnings of Parkinson's disease. We don't dare leave him alone with Wynn-Three for fear he might drop him or otherwise unintentionally hurt him. My husband, Wynn-Three's father, of course, spends as much time as he can with his son."
         "Are you present when your husband is with the child?"
         Paige had spent enough time doing corporate mergers and acquisitions to know when someone had an agenda not on the table. "I'm not

sure where all this is going, Dr. Weiner. You're implying Wynn-Three's problems are the result of some kind of relationship with someone in the home?"
         Dr. Weiner removed her spectacles, wiped them on her blouse and held them up to peer through them. "Or outside of it."
         "Meaning?"
         The psychologist sighed deeply. "Mrs. Charles, children do not suddenly develop phobias, self-mutilate, regress in toilet training, or demonstrate any of Wynn-Three's symptoms without causation. Some event, some trauma, precipitates it."
         "Such as?"
         Dr. Weiner studied Paige for a moment, clearly trying to decide what to say. "You are an educated and intelligent woman, Mrs. Charles, hopefully also a sophisticated one. Your son is exhibiting the classic symptoms of sexual abuse."
         It was as if Paige's breath had been sucked away. Otherwise, she would have protested. Instead, Dr. Weiner held up a restraining hand. "It's all there: the uncharacteristic actions, the phobias . . ."
         "Are you telling me Wynn-Three is afraid of, say, trains because of sexual abuse?"
         "There could have been the sound of a train while he was being abused, just as many victims associate their trauma with a song that was playing on the radio when the event took place. He could have seen those numbers during an episode also. It's natural, particularly with children, that they repress the incident. They exhibit anger, humiliation, fear, whatever, by abnormal behavior. Were Wynn-Three a little older, I'd expect him to act out, to become antisocial, a bully, that sort of thing. Unless and until we can identify the sexual predator, who, by the way, need not necessarily be an adult, there is no chance of successful treatment."
         Paige started to say something, then shut her mouth. Not necessarily an adult? Had Wynn-Three reacted to Manfred speaking German or Manfred himself? But Wynn-Three had never played with Manfred except for that one afternoon. What had happened when the two boys were up in Wynn-Three's room? Hadn't his dad been present?
         Dr. Weiner stood. "The law requires me to report any incident of suspected child abuse to DEFACS, Department of Family and Child Services . . ."
         "Do what ? You don't even know . . . What about patient-psychiatrist privilege? It applies to psychologists, too."
         The older woman shook her head slowly. "Wynn-Three is my patient, Mrs. Charles, not you. Besides, I could lose my license. I would suggest you look closely at anyone who has contact with your son, anyone. I . . ."
         The door opened, Wynn-Three standing in it. "Mommy, can we go home now?"
         Paige bolted to her feet. "We certainly can. Say good-bye to Dr. Weiner."
         On the short drive home, Paige experienced a rainbow of emotions: disbelief, fear, guilt. Mostly disbelief and anger. The absurdity of suggesting she had let little Wynn-Three suffer some sort of abuse! Impossible! Wynton was right: Freud and all his disciples were equivalent to modern witch doctors. But it was undeniable the child's personality had undergone a change since that day at the Pink Pig.
         Who . . . ?
         Impossible.
         But she would take precautions nonetheless.
         That night Paige intentionally delayed bathing Wynn-Three until Wynton came home, turning the task over to him. Scrubbing the daily grime off a three-year-old was a duty she usually did herself. When