by C. J. Zahner
Her eyes surveyed the room where for the last six months the twins drove Sharon mad with their pacing, wrist-snap page turning, and incessant chatter. Their minds never rested, but their stubbornness made them refuse every medication offered that might ease their turbid thoughts.
It struck her then. Hit her hard and fast. Oh, no, I’m not feeling well. She swallowed deeply. Oddly, she never realized until that moment that she herself had turned down every medication offered to her by any doctor. Ritalin in high school for ADHD. Lexapro in college for mild depression. Buspirone in med school for jitters and insomnia. Ativan, a year ago, to take the edge off after her mother’s diagnosis. Ambien, four months ago, for an occasional good night’s sleep. Zoloft, Lexapro, Wellbutrin—just a low dose, her family physician said—to get her through the bad times. No, no, no, no, no, no, no and no.
The similarities never stopped tumbling toward her.
Even though she had seen Melissa McKinney’s obituary and run her fingers over the grooves in her tombstone, and even though Father Mike had assured her he held that dead baby in his arms, she still felt like she was a McKinney. Because never—in all those doctor visits when she herself turned down every prescription—never did Emma admit the thought or utter the word suicide.
Just like Mary.
Chapter 33
Monday May 18, 2015
The opposition.
Two consecutive messages were buried in the office’s weekend recordings, one from Minnie and one from Carol McKinney. Sharon saved and transcribed them for Emma and Giff before they knew they existed. She told Emma she spit her coffee across her desk at first sound of Minnie’s squealing, high-pitched voice on the recorder. Carol sounded equally off-the-wall on the second recording. Sharon surmised she was either drunk, drugged, or dying.
The calls came from the same number. The recording time proved they left the messages late Saturday evening.
Now on a dismal Monday morning, Emma, Sharon, and Giff stood in a circle in Emma’s front office, hovering over the message. Giff read Minnie’s transcription out loud:
You thought you were a McKinney, you little bitch. You aren’t fooling anyone. I’m going to rip your sorry reputation to shreds and nail your ass to the court-house steps. You will never practice in this city again when we get done with you—or anywhere for as long as you live. You could have prevented this. You’ll pay. Fuck you, princess.
Carol’s was similar but less vulgar:
You are going to pay for the hurt you’ve caused our family. You were supposed to be helping them. You could have saved Mary. She’d still be here if you’d gotten them the help they needed. Now you are going to suffer like we are suffering. This won’t be the first time I brought down a doctor, but it may be the last, by God.
“All right then,” Giff said when he finished reading. “Now we ready. Make two copies of each message.”
He tossed the paper onto Sharon’s desk and pointed at Emma.
“Don’t.” He snapped his wrist and wagged a finger, hesitated, and raised his voice. “Don’t blame yourself. Don’t say you could have done more or you failed them. Don’t even think it. Do you understand?”
He turned to Sharon.
“Don’t accept any phone calls from either one of those women. If they call, hang up on them.”
Sharon nodded obediently, but Emma was sure Giff didn’t see her. He had already stormed out the door and as it closed behind him, Emma heard him murmur, “We’re not paying you bitches a dime.”
With the close of the door, Sharon turned toward Emma angrily. “Enough is enough. You should have told him about the peeping Tom.”
Emma shook her head and moved away. “Absolutely not. He’ll worry needlessly.”
“Well, here,” Sharon said, slapping a piece of paper into Emma’s hand. “Don’t bother lying to me. Return this officer’s call about last night’s incident.”
Emma straightened the paper and let out a sigh. Last night, Judy and Moses saw the man, women, teen, or whomever peering in Emma’s window and then taking off in a trot, disappearing into the black night. Judy was now postponing Moses’s evening walk to midnight because of the neighborhood peeper. Rumor had it a Glock 43 hugged her hip.
“Yeah, I know, just kids looking for beer.” Sharon folded her arms. “But what happens if you’re wrong? Two nasty phone messages and a peeping Tom in the same weekend? It’s them, I’m telling you.”
“Just a coincidence, Sharon.”
“What if it isn’t? What if that peeping Tom is Minnie McKinney? Or worse, what if it is Matt?”
Chapter 34
Tuesday, May 19, 2015
Missing pieces.
When she arrived at her office on Tuesday morning, Emma found Sharon sobbing at her desk, her face cradled in her hands. When she lifted her head, golden-brown mascara had smeared her face and dirtied her palms.
“Sharon, what’s wrong?” Emma closed the door behind her. Shut out the warm, spring breeze that tried following her in.
“I don’t have it…I didn’t get…the paper.”
“What paper? Stop crying, Sharon. You’re scaring me.”
Emma hadn’t slept well and rose early to appease her nerves with a good, hard, sweat-provoking run. She met friends at the peninsula and clocked five miles at a decent eight-minute pace. When she left them, went home and showered, her attitude volleyed positive thoughts of “I can get through this” and “I’m stronger than I think.” Just one time she would like those thoughts to survive her office threshold.
“Mary’s form.” Two whooshing snaps mingled with Sharon’s words as she plucked two tissues from a box.
Emma could barely understand her garbled words. She stepped toward Sharon’s desk, tucked her chin, and turned an ear out.
“Her what?”
Sharon sat up, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose.
“Mary’s waiver for not accepting medication.” She began crying again. “It’s—”
“Mary’s form? It’s not in here?” Emma set her tote down and let her purse plunk to the floor. Quickly, she untied her belt and tugged at one cuff of her spring jacket, slipping one arm out and then the other. She dropped the coat over her tote and began frantically shuffling through the files on Sharon’s desk. “We’ll find it. Don’t worry. I’ll help you look.”
“No, we won’t.” Sharon paused, sniffled, and blew her nose again. Then, slowly, she pushed her chair back and exposed the file hiding atop her knees.
Her shameful eyes rose to meet Emma’s. Teardrops sent brown lines streaking down her face. She opened the file and gently lifted a piece of paper and handed it to Emma. The medication waiver with Mary’s name, and Sharon’s copper fingerprints, slipped into Emma’s hand.
“I didn’t check her form.” Sharon grew hysterical. “I filed it without looking. I’m so sorry.”
Emma thought back to the day the twins signed waivers. Minnie scribbled her name and tossed the paper across the desk. Mary’s reaction had been subdued. She took hers calmly and said she would read, sign, and leave the form with Sharon at the front desk.
“No, it can’t be.” Emma staggered backward. She clutched the paper so hard that little rips emerged from her sweaty fingers. She looked again. It couldn’t be, she thought, but it was: I, Mary McKinney….refuse medication at this time…I understand the possible consequences…you have my permission to discuss the matter with my family….
At the bottom, an empty line where Mary’s signature should have been laughed up at her.
Chapter 35
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Game glitches.
Despite her staggering workload, May slipped past slowly and June brought long, white-knuckled days. Not a word was heard from the McKinneys, but at least no more nasty messages came. Emma and Sharon began holding out hope of not being sued, but Giff called it too early to tell.
They let him know about the mess-up with the medication waiver, but if he was upset, he hid his concern. The
y copied records for him, and Emma watched him scroll through them at home on weekends. He’d contacted her malpractice insurance carrier and was fielding all calls for her.
Her mother mended slowly at St. Mary’s, and Giff and Emma visited together often. Their mothers were growing friendlier, and Giff, fonder of Heidi. And while his affection for Heidi made Emma happy, it also worried her. With every bend in the path, she added grief to his life.
She decided to put the house up for sale so was forced to see Josh. They met to discuss the division of assets over a late lunch one weekday afternoon when Giff was out of town. The meeting stretched toward the dinner hour, but neither of them ate much. They drank too many glasses of wine, stayed too long, cried too much, and kissed goodbye too long, each jumping into separate Uber cars and riding off in different directions.
Emma wouldn’t take calls from him for a few days afterward. The long kiss at the end of the evening confused her, left her feeling she didn’t deserve Giff.
Now, on her way to work Wednesday morning, thoughts of Giff—and maybe Josh—competed with past clients like Matt McKinney and Charles Brown for her attention. Matt was nowhere to be seen, and Charlie had gone fighting and kicking into Rebekka’s office. He didn’t want to change counselors. He stopped going all together after one session, telling Rebekka he wouldn’t talk to anyone but Doctor Kerr. Then he disappeared. They tried to contact him, but his number had been disconnected.
“If he commits suicide, too,” Sharon had said, after a letter she sent him was returned, address unknown, “it will mean more ammunition for the McKinneys. I’m paranoid about everyone now.”
Today Emma intended to contact Charles’ closest relative, a half-sister in Cleveland. She hoped to hell he was there.
But when she came through the front door, she found Sharon underneath her desk, pushing and pulling cords in and out of her power strip like it was a switchboard. Forgetting Charles Brown, Emma listened as Sharon’s profanities bounced off wood.
When Sharon realized someone was there, she scooted backward and popped her head up to see Emma standing there. Her wide-eyed guise fell into a shoulder-shaking laugh, and she coughed out an “Oh, thank heaven it’s you.”
“Don’t tell me,” Emma said with a sigh.
“Yes! Again! I don’t know what’s wrong with this damn computer.” Sharon ducked back under the desk, her voice once again muffled. “They said to shut it down, unplug everything, and then plug it back in. I did that. The damn thing still didn’t work right. Now I’m trying to straighten out my cords and make sure they’re secured in the strip, but I think we have another bug.”
Emma circled the desk and leaned in behind her. “Did you call the computer guy?”
“I did, but I don’t think he knows what he’s doing. He was here yesterday.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Emma slowly straightened, squeezing her shoulders in back to release the tension in her neck. “Why can’t we get anyone to fix this?”
“You need a genius.”
A genius. Emma pondered and reflexively said, “Too bad we can’t call Matt McKinney.”
Sharon stopped unbraiding cords.
“Emma!” Sharon pushed backward and hoisted herself upward, thumping her head on the edge of the desk. A hand shot to her and she rubbed fiercely, but if the bump hurt much she hid the pain. Her hand dropped to her hip. “Do you think this could possibly be Matt McKinney? Could he be screwing with our computers?”
“That’s crossed my mind.” She rolled her head from side to side, attempting to relieve the kinks in her neck. Then she dropped her arms to her side. They swung to and fro. “I also wondered if Mary was tampering with them. So much for that thought.”
The front-door chimes sounded, grabbing their attention, and a short man with a surprisingly deep voice hurried toward them. “Good morning. Is Doctor Kerr available?”
The man wore creased gray pants, an open black sports coat that seemed a bit too long, and a smooth white shirt. His head tilted a tinge toward the ground, giving the impression he wanted to apologize for entering. Emma’s first thought was if he shortened his jacket and ditched his belt, he’d look taller, less sheepish. Her second notion was he couldn’t be the bearer of good news.
“I’m Doctor Kerr.” Emma’s eyes raked him curiously. He approached, his hand slipping to a hidden pocket inside his coat, and he presented her with a sealed letter. She opened her fingers and felt the envelope sneak into her palm as he offered a “Good day” and darted away.
“What is it?” Sharon stepped closer and leaned in.
Emma unsealed the enveloped and removed the contents. “A letter from a law firm. They’re petitioning the McKinney records.”
Chapter 36
Thursday, June 11 2015
Chance, choice, and luck.
“Sharon, back up the McKinney files on disc. Today. I want two copies.” Giff handed her two zip drives. “Keep one in your safe, and I’ll keep one in mine, just in case.”
“Just in case of what?” Sharon pushed her feet off the floor, and her chair rolled backward away from her desk. She stood, clumped across the room, reached for a container above the copier, and dropped the drives inside. They clinked loudly. “You think Matt McKinney will change our files?”
“I don’t know.”
“You seriously think he’s going to access our files, change information, and incriminate Emma?” She tilted her head toward Giff, and her free palm found her hip.
“He’s certainly skilled enough to do it,” Giff answered, loosening his tie.
“But he’s crazy about Emma!”
“We know that, Sharon,” Giff said, as if the reminder hurt. “But you never see it coming when a person turns on you.”
“He won’t.” Sharon shook her head. “You have to trust me on this. I sit with these people, talk to them. He might be trailing her, but he is going to side with Emma against Minnie.”
“Oh, my God, stop with the trailing crap, Sharon,” Emma broke in, spreading her fingers and running them through the hair at her temples. There was just too much tension in the room. Her hands slid to the back of her neck, and she leaned her forearms against her chest, rolled her head in a circle, and then dropped her hands. “But yes, Giff, I agree with her. He’s not going to tamper with my files to help Minnie.”
“Well, somebody’s stalking you.” Sharon stomped around her desk, tossed the tin container onto her desk, and took a seat. She slammed her drawer shut, and it flew back open. “Damn it!”
She stood, yanked the drawer open, grabbed a pack of cigarettes, and slammed them down on her desk.
“Yes,” she hollered. “I’m smoking again. Pounding nails in my coffin, and I don’t want to hear anything from you two emaciated health nuts. I’m tired of hiding it.”
There was a long, much-needed, tension-breaking silence, and then Giff laughed first, followed by Emma.
“Do you think we didn’t know?” He finally said to her.
“Well, I don’t give a hoot anymore.” Sharon reached into her purse for her lighter, snatched the cigarettes, and headed for the front door. “You two run, I smoke. We all deal with stress differently.”
The door slammed behind her, and Giff and Emma’s laughter heightened.
“What’s wrong with Sharon?” Rebekka peeked her head out of her office. “I’ve never heard her raise her voice before.”
“She’s smoking again,” Emma responded.
“Why, did she quit?”
They laughed louder. “Six months ago,” Emma said.
Rebekka raised her eyebrows. “Bummer.” She disappeared back into her office. Giff and Emma made their way to Emma’s office, still chuckling. Emma took a seat at her desk, and Giff dragged a chair up beside her.
“Here’s how it works,” he told her, sobering. “They’ve petitioned the records, so we can surmise they’ll file a complaint in civil court.”
Emma let out a sigh and ran her fingers through her hair, gathering
it in back, ponytail style, then releasing it. “They’ll say I failed to provide reasonable care.”
“Yes, negligence in providing care another psychiatrist would have provided.”
“And say it’s my fault she committed suicide.”
“Yes, but even if they prove negligence, which I don’t believe they can, they still must prove that negligence, less-than-standard care, missed diagnosis, or whatever, influenced the patient’s suicide. That’s the hard part.”
She silently considered that flicker of optimism.
“They’ll call in an expert witness,” he continued. “Another psychiatrist.”
“One that normally finds for the plaintiff?”
“Well, not like on TV where they bring in a ringer.” He smiled gingerly. “They’ll look for a psychiatrist who finds for their client, but they must be reputable, and their statement plausible. After all, they want to win the case. Or at least settle.”
“Settle?”
“Most insurance companies settle if there’s a valid complaint.”
“Do you think they have one—a valid complaint?”
“I don’t. I reviewed the documentation. You and Sharon did a great job. Your backup is comprehensive. The McKinneys will state you didn’t notify the family properly, and we will provide the signed affidavits from Mel, Matt and Minnie.”
“They’ll ask about the missing waiver.”
“Minor glitch,” he told her. “Your transcripts prove you attempted to medicate her a number of times.”
She guessed that was better than nothing.
“Is it possible they’ll drop the suit?”
“Probably not. They’ll threaten to go to trial, but with insurance companies, it’s just cheaper to settle.”