Free The Edge of Normal by Carla Norton Page A

to him. “But it has become kind of a pop phrase, used to cover all kinds of hostage and captive situations, and it’s imprecise.”
    “How’s that?”
    “Well, it’s just one aspect of what is broadly called post-traumatic stress disorder.”
    “Sure. PTSD,” Hudson says. “So, they’re the same thing, more or less?”
    “Not really. Stockholm Syndrome isn’t actually in the diagnostic manuals, and post-traumatic stress disorder is such a broad term that it ceases to be useful at some point.”
    “I can tell you’re a college professor,” Hudson says with a grin.
    “Forgive me for lecturing.”
    “No, listen, I’m not the smartest guy around, but I like to understand. So, why do we even hear about Stockholm Syndrome if it isn’t in the—what?—diagnostic manual?”
    “Good question. The term was coined years ago by a Swedish criminologist who was trying to understand the sympathy a group of hostages expressed for their captors at a Stockholm bank robbery.”
    “But they were held for just five days,” Reeve interjects.
    “Yes, and since then, a similar response has been seen in many individuals held under duress. Plane hijackings, prison riots, POWs—”
    “But I thought Stockholm Syndrome was about captives falling in love with their captors,” Hudson says.
    Reeve groans. “It’s a survival mechanism.”
    Dr. Lerner nods. “And it only scratches the surface, really, in trying to explain the psychological effects of prolonged captivity and profound coercion.”
    “Coercion?” Hudson asks, a forkful of pie stopping in midair.
    “That’s right,” Reeve snaps. “Coercion.”
    “Or brainwashing, as it’s often called,” Dr. Lerner says, waving a hand, “though that’s not a clinical term. Anyway, consider the different circumstances. Some hostages are held only a short time. Many are aware of ongoing negotiations, so they know that they’re essentially bargaining chips, that their abductors want something in exchange, usually money.”
    “But sexual predators don’t ask for ransom,” Reeve says, gripping the sides of her chair. “There are no negotiations. The person taken is their prize.”
    “I’m sorry, but could we back up? Terror, I get. Rape and sexual abuse, I understand.” He is addressing Dr. Lerner, but glances over at Reeve, who meets his eye. “But what I don’t get is, unless it’s a military situation, where does coercion come in?”
    “Remember Patty Hearst?” Reeve’s voice goes up a notch. “Remember how she was indoctrinated by the SLA? Remember how Beth Goodwin’s captor spouted all that twisted, pseudoreligious crap?”
    Hudson rubs his chin. “Same thing with that creep who took Jaycee Dugard, right?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Coercion is common in captive situations,” Dr. Lerner explains. “It’s part of the captor’s strategy. POWs, for instance. A parallel situation, with coercion employed along with extreme emotional and physical deprivation.”
    “And torture,” Reeve adds hotly. “The media always tries to make it sound titillating, calling it sadomasochism. But people who are kidnapped are not masochists. They’re beaten. They’re starved. And whether it happens to trained soldiers or to young girls, whether or not there’s actual rape, torture is still torture.”
    The conversation lurches to a halt.
    Reeve glares at her melting ice cream, excuses herself, and bolts from the table.
    In the restroom, she washes the heat off her face. This is twice in the past two days she has allowed anger to overtake her. She makes a face in the mirror, muttering, “Well, Miss Sunshine, that went well.”
    *   *   *
    After lunch, Deputy Hudson directs Reeve to a parking structure where she can park her Jeep all day for free—something unthinkable in San Francisco—and the three head toward the Cavanaughs’ home. Having barely spoken since lunch, Reeve hunches in the backseat, watching the scenery roll past, telling herself to get a