“Right,” Lindquist agreed. “But there are similarities between Tia and Mindy. And given that both had high sodiums, and given the contaminated formula, just based on that twenty-five-words-or-less statement, one could logically conclude that it’s possible somebody, involving both children, intentionally induced something into their food supply and it’s possible that the parents did, and just on that, it’s—”
“But not knowing the medical facts on Tia, that’s what—”
“Yeah, but just knowing that much, I have to go into the entire history of Mindy and Tia—”
“So, then Tia is part of this investigation.”
“Yeah. That’s no secret as far as I’m concerned. It has to be looked into, but no accusations have been made, at least not by the police department.”
“The only accusation that’s been made to us at this point is by only two doctors,” Priscilla said calmly. “But the whole thing about Tia is very distressing—it didn’t matter what hospital she was in, or whether she was on oral intake and I don’t know—I don’t know enough about what—I don’t know anything about what you would even give somebody to do something like that—but it seems to me that to induce anything into Tia that caused her to be as ill as she was for as long as she was—somebody would have to find something or notice something, or—ah—seen somebody doing something. It’s like my husband says, we brought Tia home with a line in her—a central venous line that went into her heart that nobody’s brought a child home with—that had to be taken care of under sterile conditions, injecting heparin daily, that kind of thing. I mean, we went through every—it’s like we, at that point, totally donated our lives to her—and every moment was spent protecting her—and when you’ve lived through something like that and then you have somebody turn around and say you could have done something to that child—ah—”
“That’s tough. That’s real tough. I wouldn’t trade positions with you for a million dollars,” Lindquist said.
“That’s pretty hard to live with, and at this point—I m sorry—but at this point the way we look at the whole thing is we’ve got something like nine years of a perfect record in this community of being nothing but caring, loving people without a spot on our background, and one bottle of formula—and suddenly we’re the one.”
“Yeah, well, you’re not necessarily the ones. All I’m telling you is that—”
“Well, I know you’re not saying that, but I know other people have, and I have no reason to believe that the doctors at this point are any less suspect than we are—I just wonder how thoroughly things are being looked into.”
“Very thoroughly.”
Then she went on. She reminded him about Mindy’s viral symptoms, and suggested that the sodium level of 160 in Mindy’s blood on Saturday had been a mistake, as she had told Dr. Carte. She told Lindquist about Mindy’s CMV, about all her efforts to enroll Mindy in special programs, about having to leave the babysitting co-op because of it.
“Why would we have invested so much in Mindy? It just doesn’t make sense unless, obviously, unless I’m crazy,” she said. “I mean, that would have to be. And that would have to show up in some other aspect of my life, it seems like. And I just—it’s a hell of a lot to live with to have invested your life day in and day out to meet Mindy’s needs and see a lot of improvements and then see this happen.”
“Like I said before, I wouldn’t trade places with you for a million dollars. I’ve been trying to think of how I would feel if knowing in my own mind I’ve done nothing wrong, to have my child taken away from me—I just don’t know how I would deal with that,” Lindquist said.
Beside her, Steve was gesturing wildly.
“Look, my husband’s upset—he’s getting on the other phone,” Priscilla said. After a moment Steve came on.
“I was just trying to explain to you why Tia is a part of this. They never could really diagnose her illness—” Lindquist began.
“They did find things wrong—they did find abnormal things,” Priscilla said.
“They did an intensive autopsy and didn’t find anything,” Steve said, at cross-purposes.
“Right,” Lindquist agreed. “That’s what I just said.”
“Well it sounds to me like hospitals being institutions—they’re walling up—trying to cover their backsides, and I’m really hot about it—” Steve was nearly screaming. “You know we sweated blood, sweat, and tears with that child and because of one high sodium count—”
“One—that’s what we don’t understand—” Priscilla broke in.
“Someone put something in a G.D. formula—it’s bad enough to have this laid on us for the formula thing and to have two doctors—and I won’t mention their names for obvious reasons—lay it on us for her whole illness, and I’m going, ‘Wait a minute, man, what about conjunctivitis, what about the flu I had, and what about this?’—I’m not a damn doctor. That’s why I go to a doctor—”
“Honey—”
“Steve, let me just give you a simple explanation, make you see the logic of the question—” Lindquist put in.
“I don’t see the logic only on the basis that Mindy’s sodium only was high at the end when something crazy happened,” Priscilla interrupted heatedly.
“I see the logic of a group of doctors trying to—-well, I see a different logic—” Steve said.
“Honey, let him—”
“I’m going to listen to what—” began Steve again. Priscilla broke in.
“I just want to ask you one question. It’s still my understanding that Mindy’s sodium was never abnormally high until the end when they—when they discovered everything.”
“That’s not the case,” Lindquist said.
“But Dr. Carte agreed with me on that point.”
“It’s my understanding that that was not the first time,” Lindquist said.
“I know there was high sodium in her stool—” Priscilla said.
“But her blood—there has never been high sodium—” Steve started.
“—that was Tia’s problem. We’re coming across pretty upset because the doctors are telling us different things—I know her sodium was high in her stools. And Debby kept saying, and Dr. Shimoda, that it was a relief to know that obviously she’s not falling in the pattern of Tia because her sodium’s not so high.”
“Well, I see a close similarity—” said Lindquist.
“No. I think you’re going to find a medical impossibility,” Priscilla said.
“The point is this,” Steve said. “You said you had Mindy’s medical records. Do you have her entire medical records, or do you have what a certain Chief of Pediatrics gave you?”
“No, I don’t,” said Lindquist.
“Well, I suggest you get that information—”
“I agree with that a hundred percent,” Lindquist said.
“Because I smell a big—”
“Honey—”
“You can shade the information to a certain extent. End of comment. Get the whole record, okay?” Steve said.
“Uh-huh. That’s exactly what I’m trying to do, Mr. Phillips. You brought up a very good point—that you can have a self-fulfilling prophecy—or make an assumption at the beginning and then find facts to fit that.”
“That’s right. And that’s what I’m saying a couple of doctors have done,” Priscilla said.
“My intention is to come up with all the facts, and I expect the facts will lead me to an inescapable conclusion. And I won’t reach a conclusion till I’ve done that.”
“I would like to have faith in that,” Priscilla said.
“Well, you can bet on it.”
Then they covered the same ground again. Priscilla pointed out that Mindy’s illness was different from Tia’s if the last three days—when perhaps something was going into her formula—were considered separately. Mindy had not had high sodium before and it would be impossible to induce anything into Tia when she was having no oral intake, particularly at so many different ho
spitals, she said.
“There just isn’t a common denominator,” Lindquist said with deliberate innocence. The response he elicited was to prove disastrous to Priscilla.
“Obviously the only common denominator is me—and my husband—as her parents, and that’s going to be a common denominator any time there’s something wrong with any of our children. There’s not a day that we weren’t with her so that’s obviously a common denominator. I don’t mind admitting that there’s not a person in the world who wasn’t totally amazed that Tia developed and lived a life in spite of her illness; that was attributed to me. She was a remarkable child who stood out in the minds of everyone because we were with her and gave her as normal a life as you can have with that kind of illness. So you know, that common denominator works both ways,” Priscilla said in a rush.
“Oh, by the way, thanks for the releases of your work records. They’ve just been delivered to me.”
“Anything you want, we’ll gladly give. We have been deeply involved in this community for nine years—not only our jobs but community activity, churches, schools, and everything else, and we have a flawless record, and suddenly our lives are filled with flaws,” Priscilla said.
“Okay, listen, I don’t mean to cut you off, but I’ve got to go. We’ll be talking again. I know I haven’t been able to satisfy you. I’m in the middle and I’m looking at it all, and I’ve tried to reassure you that I intend to come up with an inescapable conclusion. I feel that I personally have a moral and legal obligation—if I cannot determine the entire answer to this—to at least determine that Mr. and Mrs. Phillips are not responsible so they can go back to being the parents of Mindy,” Lindquist said.
“That’s all we ask. That’s the only thing that matters at this point,” Priscilla said in a high voice. Good-byes were exchanged and they hung up. Priscilla checked her watch, her head aching. They had been on the phone an hour and a half. They would be late for their appointment with the attorney.
At his desk at the San Rafael Police Department, Ted Lindquist turned off his tape recorder.
3
Mary Vetter’s office at Catholic Social Service was spacious, Steve noted. She headed the place and in her way was a damned impressive lady, sharp as a whip, really, he thought. But she played things by the book, and she was not going to leave them alone with Mindy, even if she did sit off to the side writing reports, her head turned away from them.
Priscilla had collected some of Mindy’s favorite toys, and when Mercedes Murphy brought her into the room, she squealed at the sight of them—seeming to recognize them and her family immediately. Priscilla swept her up and hugged her—they all hugged her. Steve blinked hard.
Mindy was doing well, Mercedes assured them. If anything her foster mother was probably spoiling her to death. Mindy had been gone a week now, and for Steve it was one of the longest weeks he could remember.
He dreaded the mornings, dreaded what they threatened to bring. Things just kept looking worse. Priscilla was increasingly anxious, and nobody was sleeping or talking to each other, but for the sake of the boys and their friends, they were all trying to pretend it was going to be all right.
Steve knelt on the floor and rolled the bright plastic ball they had brought to Mindy. She waved at it, her little face creased in two with her smile. Jason grabbed at the ball and sent it back to his sister.
“Not so fast, honey,” Priscilla told him. “She can’t catch it—”
“It’s all right. Relax, Pris,” he said. She gave him an irritated look. It didn’t take much to set her off these days, Steve thought briefly, with the tension so thick around their house you couldn’t see your way clear to the kitchen sometimes. If this damned thing didn’t break someway or other pretty soon, they all might crack.
People kept assuring them it was going to be just fine—that after the police finished their investigation they’d see how ridiculous it was to suspect Priscilla. Miss Vetter had made the point this morning when they arrived. Jim and Jan Doudiet were saying it, and the Schaefers—everybody. And Gary Ragghianti, their attorney, had been reassuring, too. While they were sitting in his office in downtown San Rafael, he had called Ted Lindquist to ask him about the status of the investigation.
“I know Lindquist,” he had told them. “We used to be neighbors. The guy’s straight and hardworking and not apt to go off the deep end. I think he’ll tell me what’s going on.” After he had hung up, he had turned to them.
“It doesn’t sound like you have a thing to worry about. You’re just a part of the whole investigation—not suspects or anything at this point.”
“Oh, that’s good—that’s great!” Priscilla said.
“The only thing is—I’d be glad to handle this as long as it doesn’t come down to some kind of a criminal charge against you. If charges are filed, I’ll have to drop out because my friendship with Ted could cause a conflict of interest,” Ragghianti said.
“That’s all right,” Priscilla said.
“But it sure doesn’t look like it will come to that. Meanwhile we’ll see what we can do about getting Mindy back. I’m not an expert on adoption matters, so if it becomes necessary to appear in court on this, I’ll refer you to someone who is. But I can handle the preliminary part.”
“Good enough,” Steve said.
“Now Ted just mentioned something about a consent to release the children’s medical records at Kaiser,” Ragghianti said.
“We’ve nothing to hide,” Priscilla said.
“Yeah. We want them to look at the records—all of them, not just the ones some doctors gave them.” Steve’s voice was heavily sarcastic. “The cops should have them all.”
“Well, if you feel that way, I think you should sign the consent,” Ragghianti said.
So they had done that, Steve remembered as he helped Mindy play with the push toy they had brought. Lindquist had come over that same afternoon to pick up the releases. He had been polite and formal. Who knew what the guy was really thinking, though?
That was the trouble with this whole damn thing, Steve realized. There was no enemy out there—nobody on the other side of the street wearing a black hat to shoot it out with. It wasn’t what he was used to. The threat was there, damn it, he knew that. And if somebody would just admit it, he could deal with it. He understood the face-to-face sort of confrontation he had at San Quentin or at juvenile hall. He could deal with the inmate who came up to you and called you a redneck and then stood and watched how you took it. He knew the rules of that game.
But here people were telling him there was no threat. Carte and Callas wouldn’t come out and say directly what they meant; they practically claimed they didn’t mean anything when the accusation lay right behind those cold eyes of theirs. Lindquist said there was nothing to worry about—him and his inescapable conclusions. So did Ragghianti and Jim Hutchison. Hell, it made Steve angry. There was a lie there—he knew it if no one else did. But you can’t gun down a lie, especially when everyone’s telling you it doesn’t exist. And he couldn’t handle these people who didn’t confront him back, who didn’t even look him in the face.
There were those railroad tracks again, being laid, tie by tie, right up to his front door. He didn’t know how to stop them. Except with the truth. That was all he had to fall back on, he thought as he cradled Mindy for an instant in his arms. It was time to go now, to leave her in the care of some stranger for another week.
Steve tensed until Mindy squeaked with the pressure of his arms. Damn it, though, this time he feared the truth might not be enough.
4
It was too bad he had to lie to Gary, Ted thought as he sat at his desk in the small room opposite Investigations. It was the one thing so far he really regretted. Even though it had been three weeks since that phone conversation with Ragghianti, he hadn’t stopped thinking about it. Gary was a good friend and had been Ted’s lawyer last year when he had worked out Ted’s divorce and custody settlements. One of the lousy things about pol
ice work was that sometimes he had to lie and mislead, all for the sake of some other, more important, truth.
He knew it was cornball but Ted was certain that there was some kind of great truth out there: a right way to behave, a correct and moral path. It wasn’t necessarily the path everybody followed; he wasn’t particularly conventional. And although he would admit to being highly moralistic, he would not accept a conservative label. He did believe in a standard of behavior, and he despised people who assaulted others, whatever form that assault took. If he knew about such a person, he tried to stop him no matter what the obstacles. For Ted Lindquist, the end justified almost any means, as long as they were legal. He considered it damned unfortunate that sometimes he had to smoothe around the edges of the truth. But it was often necessary: That was police work.
In this case lies had proved necessary: If Priscilla Phillips knew how close to an arrest they were, there was no predicting how she might react. She might injure herself or the boys. Ted couldn’t take that responsibility. At this point he knew it was only a matter of time before the lid blew off the case.
He had had some luck with the medical consents. Because the Phillipses had agreed to release the records, it hadn’t become necessary to return the search warrant, so no affidavit had been filed and the extent of the investigation had not been made public. But the investigative net was spreading, and although he continued to ask for confidentiality, it was inevitable that eventually someone would talk.
Ted lit a cigarette and pulled the Phillips files over; they were growing thicker by the day as the evidence mounted. He had interviewed over twenty-five people, some several times. He hadn’t worked on anything else since he had started the case, and it was taking up more than all his time. Thank God for Pam at home taking care of his kids, he thought. She didn’t have to do it—they weren’t her children—but she was taking up the slack uncomplainingly. He felt they had a damned good relationship. It was just fine as it stood, with no marriage in the works. Neither of them wanted that. Ted was soured on matrimony at the moment. He and Sue had married much too young, while she was still in high school. Her pregnancy made her senior year difficult, especially with Ted off at Arizona State trying to make the baseball team.
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