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With a look of hesitation pinching at the right side of her cheek, she lets out a sigh before stepping out and securing the door locks with her key from outside.
With sluggish steps, I make my way to the door so I can secure the chain lock like she instructed.
The moment I make it back to the couch and stare at the dark TV, I remember I should be studying for the final that I’ll probably fail with my head in forty places at once.
With another groan, I grab my textbook and notebook off the side table next to where I’m sitting and stare at the four-hundred-page book that makes my brain hurt.
Taking notes helps me organize information in my head, and over the past hour or so I have managed to copy down the entire textbook unit on Psychology and Ethics. Every page has facts that will likely be on the final, but this last section isn’t sitting correctly with me. Even after dissecting each line, I can’t understand how ethics can be such a roadblock to helping someone. I read the topic header once more and shake my head.
Naturalistic Observation: Reactivity and the Ethics of Concealed Observation
I’ve read this section so many times in the last couple of weeks, trying to wrap my head around the pros and cons of the subject matter. The cons are that this topic is controversial to itself and can’t be used as a form of practice on patients.
Except, I don’t understand the purpose of observing anyone with their understanding and agreement of the observatory process. It’s human nature to act differently when being watched, which can have varying outcomes depending on the person’s feelings toward the study. Although unethical, I believe the only way to get a true understanding of someone’s environment and behavior is to observe without warning. The ethics of psychology don’t always work in a patient’s favor but to practice and maintain a license, one must be always ethical.
At all times. No matter what.
Ethical.
If the Smiths continue to blame me for their missing daughter, I won’t have the chance to obtain my license to practice. It seems like they hold that power in their hands, and until the search is over for their little girl, there’s no way to know how this will end. I need some kind of evidence, proving that there is more to this story than anyone knows.
I glance down at my phone and tap the screen to see the time. It’s almost eight thirty. I close my laptop, notebook, and textbook, and stack them on top of the coffee table.
My purse and keys are on the entryway table beneath the wide rectangular mirror. I shouldn’t be venturing out right now, but time is not in anyone’s favor. I slide open the closet door, grab my oversized sweatshirt and slip my feet into my running shoes. My baseball cap sitting on the top shelf of the closet catches my eye, and I take that too.
I’ll be back before Willa’s shift is over and since I’m taking the fire escape down to the ground level, avoiding the security guard, no one will have to worry about where I am.
TWENTY-FIVE
SUNDAY, JUNE 11TH 8:30 PM
I lock the doors as soon as I slide into the driver’s seat of my car and check over my shoulder into the backseat. It’s something I used to do out of habit when I first started driving around alone at night, but those fears had slipped away the older I became. They’re back now.
While navigating the back roads along the coast, I find myself squeezing the steering wheel tighter and tighter the farther I go. There’s a steep hill that leads up to the cliff’s peak and the area is quiet compared to what I witnessed on the news this morning. I figured there would be flashing lights coming from every direction. I’ve always wondered if police stop searching for a missing person at a certain hour due to the darkness. Maybe they’re searching somewhere else. The wooded area around the property is thick, but not dense.
I’m not sure what I was hoping to find here tonight but I needed another look at the area, and I was curious if their back window would still be uncovered where it stares out over the cliff. I can’t see the back of the house from here though.
My palms are covered with sweat as I pry open the car door to slip outside. Even my breaths sound louder than usual. If I canjust catch a glimpse of what they are like behind closed doors, it would be insightful. Just something, I guess.
The wooded area connects the hill up to their property line against the far end of the cliff overlooking the ocean. I move slowly, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness so I can see where I’m going while weaving in and out of trees. The lit bridge off on the horizon offers enough of a glow to give me a hint of where I’m stepping as I try to avoid dry sticks and pinecones. The unmarked dirt path begins to decline as I reach an area closer to the edge of the cliff. The wooded land doesn’t drop off like the ledge behind their house does, but the downward hill is steep while heading toward the water.
“She’s not here!” a voice echoes against the rocky terrain that spills into the lapping water.
“Will you just give me a damn minute?”
What was that? I tiptoe a little further, closer to the edge of the woods, to get more visibility of the small shoreline. I take my phone out of my back pocket and open the camera to zoom in like a pair of binoculars and click record while I’m at it.
My heart thunders through my entire body and the urge to choke on the air I’m pulling in too fast is forcing me to grit my teeth and tighten my muscles. I can’t make a sound.
Lara is holding a flashlight and Corbin is in a wetsuit, dripping wet.
“A minute?” Lara huffs back. “We’ve been out here searching every night. What are we expecting to find at this point?”
Corbin whips his head toward his wife and though I can’t get a clear look of his face, his body language screams with tyranny. “A body, Lara. We’re looking for a body so we can find it before they do.”
They think the baby has drowned.
“Maybe she’s lying,” Lara says. “What if that’s the case?”
