The Stranger Beside Me

by Ann Rule

In an attempt to sort out my feelings, to deal with that stress, I consulted a psychiatrist. I handed him the letters. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know what my motivations really are. Part of me wonders if Ted Bundy is guilty, not only of the cases in Utah, but of the cases here in Washington. If that is true, then I can write the book I’ve contracted for and write it from a position that any author would envy. I want that, selfishly for my own career, and because it would mean financial independence. I could send my children to college, and we could move to a house that isn’t falling down around our ears.” He looked at me. “And?” “And, on the other side of it, the man is my friend. But am I supporting him emotionally, writing to him, because I just want to solve all those murders, because I owe something to my detective friends too? Am I, in essence, trying to trap him? Am I being unfair? Do I have the right to correspond with Ted when I have a niggling feeling that he might be guilty? Am I playing straight with him?” “Let me ask you a question,” he countered. “If Ted Bundy proves to be a murderer, if he is sent to prison for the rest of his life, what would you do? Would you stop writing to him? Would you drop him?” That answer was easy. “No! No, I would always write to him. If what the detectives believe is true, if he is guilty, then he needs someone. If he had that on his conscience…No, I would keep writing, keep in touch.” “Then that’s your answer. You’re ...