Outside, the front yard was cordoned off with yellow crime-scene tape. Kate counted three or four officers spread out across the snow, documenting tire tracks and footprints, leaving little orange evidence flags in their wake. As she approached her car, the medical examiner’s van drew up and Quade Pickler got out.
“Hello again,” Pickler said, striding toward her, his breath fogging the air. “I heard you found the body?”
Kate nodded. “They already took my statement. I was just about to leave.”
He tapped a cigarette out of the pack and offered her one. “Smoke?”
“Thanks.” She took it, and he lit it for her, then he lit one for himself.
“These’ll kill ya.”
“Right.” She didn’t like him.
They stood together on the sidewalk, exhaling streams of smoke. Once you got past those judgmental eyes, Pickler was kind of handsome in a bland sort of way. In his late fifties, he had short, tousled gray hair that forked out in different directions, a square jaw, and a goatee. He had the same peppery smell as her dad. Old Spice.
“Why don’t you believe Palmer Dyson?” she asked. “About Susie Gafford?”
He grinned. “You cut a wide path through the bullshit.”
“Well? Aren’t you concerned? What if you were wrong?”
Pickler stared steadily down at her, nostrils flaring. “You can’t argue with the facts. I performed the autopsy myself. Victims of asphyxiation will often bite their tongues. They’ll scratch their own necks and faces in an attempt to break free. They’ll have defensive wounds on their hands and arms from fending off the perp. Even a little girl will put up the fight of her life, if you cut off her air supply. We didn’t find any defensive wounds, no trace beneath the nails. She didn’t scratch, bite or claw at an attacker.”
He paused to inhale the nicotine deep into his lungs. “After she went missing, we scoured the area for miles. Eventually the dogs started barking at an abandoned well shaft—some of the boards covering it were broken in. Local and state police showed up, fire trucks, ambulances. We took turns trying to reach her but it was a tight space. We finally lowered a camera into the shaft, and you could see her little braids and her dinosaur-print shirt on the monitor. She was all twisted up at the bottom of the well. We were hoping for a happy ending. But some things aren’t meant to be.”
“What about that crescent-shaped bruise on her throat?”
“Impact injuries can produce contusions and lacerations to the skin. There were multiple projecting rocks and stones composing the walls of the shaft. Look,” Pickler said, “I don’t have anything against Dyson. Back in the day, he was good police. But his Achilles’ heel is his stubborn streak. I could go through each and every case with you, but…” He dropped his cigarette in the snow and crushed it underfoot. “Anyway. He’s retired now. He should be enjoying his life instead of pursuing bullshit theories. Have a good one, Doc.” The medical examiner walked away towards the house.
Her phone buzzed and Kate checked the number. “James?”
“Just checking in. How are you?”
“Not good.” She rubbed her forehead, trying to erase the image of all that blood. “I’m in New Hampshire,” she managed to choke. “Something bad happened…”
“Kate? What is it?”
“Nelly Ward is dead. I practically tripped over the body.”
“What?” James sounded panicked. “How did this happen?”
“I drove up here to see them, and the door was open, and I went inside, and…”
“Jesus,” James hissed. “Are you okay?”
“No. I mean, I’m fine. Physically. But the police took all my clothes.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I slipped in a pool of blood,” she sobbed. “It got all over me.” She took a few gasps. “It was awful, James. She was beaten with a hammer. There was blood all over the place.”
“Okay. Listen. I’m coming home.”
“Don’t do that…” she said automatically.
“Where are you now?”
“In Wilamette. But the police said I could go.”
“Are you okay to drive?”
“Yeah, sure.” Her hands were trembling.
“I just have to make a few more arrangements, and then I’ll be home.”
“How’s Vanessa?” she remembered to ask.
“Fine. We found a good physical therapist, and we’re interviewing home care nurses… And, Kate?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
“Love you too. See you soon.” She hung up.
Forty minutes later, midway between Blunt River and Boston, she pulled into a rest area and called Palmer Dyson.
“I just heard,” he said. “My buddy Ramsey filled me in. How’re you holding up?”
“Not so great.” She swallowed the burning lump in her throat. “I can’t get the image out of my head. Poor Nelly.”
“It’ll fade over time. Trust me.”
“The police think Derrick did it. They’re looking for him now. They put out a statewide alert.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“But the police said he left evidence behind.”
“I don’t think he did it, Kate.”
“Seriously? But you should’ve seen Maddie’s room. I found restraints on the bed—it was horrible. I think he’s been abusing her, which is probably why she self-harms. It’s classic projection…”
“No. Those restraints are for her own protection. Nelly told me about it years ago. If they don’t restrain her at night, she climbs out of bed and hurts herself.”
“Oh.” Kate blinked. “But Nelly told me that Derrick hit her, and Maddie practically admitted that he hits her, too. And all I can think of is that Nelly must’ve confronted him about the abuse, and that’s why he killed her.”
“No, Kate. It’s not like him.”
She paused a frustrated beat. “The police sounded pretty confident.”
“Then I need to find him before they do. He keeps a gun in his truck. They’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”
A pronounced silence settled in between them.
“Palmer,” she said softly, “I don’t think I’m built for this.”
“But, Kate…”
“I’m sorry. But this is way too scary for me.”
“I understand,” he said hoarsely. “Listen, if you ever need anything…”
“Goodbye, Palmer. Good luck.”
39
IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON by the time Kate got home to Cambridge. She felt stripped down, raw and emotional. She sat on the edge of her bed, kicked off her trainers, and studied the dried blood under her fingernails. She closed her eyes and said a little prayer. She wished Nelly hadn’t had such a troubled life. She promised to make sure that Maddie would be okay.
But now she had a job to do. She took a long hot shower, got dressed, threw on her parka and last year’s boots, scooped up her car keys and drove to the hospital.
The nurses greeted her with battle-hardened good cheer. “Hey, Doc. You missed all the excitement. Nothing but wall-to-wall drama queens this morning.”
“Deep breaths, ladies. Any messages?”
Yvette handed her a stack of pink slips. “I’m afraid your favorite patient has cut herself again.”
Kate shoved the pink slips into her coat pocket and headed for the Child Psych Unit. The common area was full of tweens and teens bickering over Boggle and backgammon and video games. They lined up twice a day for their meds, and most of them just wanted to go home.
Kate found Maddie self-isolating in her room. The nurses’ aide was sitting cross-legged on the floor, writing her daily progress report on a tablet, while Maddie sat up in bed, hugging a brand new plushie—a pink poodle with floppy ears.
Kate told Claire to take a break, then pulled up a chair. “How are you feeling?”
The girl said nothing. Beyond the window the clouds parted, releasing a ray of sunshine that high
lighted Maddie’s face and golden eyelashes for a moment. Kate was struck once again by the eerie resemblance to Savannah—same pixie nose and whimsical blondness. There was a fresh set of bandages on Maddie’s arm. The sun disappeared behind the clouds again.
“Where were you today?” Maddie asked, peering at her curiously.
“I went to see your parents.” Kate didn’t know how else to put it. “I’m afraid I’ve got bad news.”
Maddie watched her expectantly.
“I’m afraid your mother’s gone.”
“Gone?” The girl blinked. “Gone where?”
Your mother is dead. Four simple words. And yet, all her years of training hadn’t prepared her for this. Kate’s own terrible losses hadn’t prepared her for this. How did you tell a child her mother was dead? How did you soften the blow? The truth was, there would be no soft landings. Reality was blunt and merciless. Kate’s own experience with death hadn’t given her any advantage when it came to breaking the news to others. Death was the nightmare you simply didn’t wake up from.
“She passed away this morning, Maddie.”
The girl’s eyes narrowed critically. “No she didn’t.”
“I’m so sorry.” Kate waited for the information to sink in.
“I don’t think I heard you right,” Maddie said stubbornly.
“I know it’s a lot to absorb. She passed away this morning.”
The girl began to rock violently back and forth. “I don’t believe you! It’s a mistake. She can’t be dead!”
“I’m sorry, Maddie.” The only solace Kate could think of was that her grief would diminish over time—a lousy consolation prize.
“What happened?” she wailed. “How did Mommy die?”
“I’m afraid someone hurt her. The police are trying to figure out who’s responsible.”
The girl’s distress ticked up a notch. “Somebody killed her?”
“Yes, Maddie. I’m so sorry.”
“Where’s my father?”
“They don’t know.”
“So he’s not coming to get me?”
“No.”
Fear flared in her eyes. “What are they going to do to him?”
“I don’t know. They’re figuring out the details now. That’s why a police officer will be coming to the hospital tomorrow to talk to you.”
“Talk to me about what?”
“Your mother and stepfather,” Kate said. “They have a few questions about your home life. Do you think you can handle it? Because we can always postpone it for a few days.” She’d protested to Detective Johnson when he’d told her he would be visiting, pointing out how unwell Maddie was, but there seemed to be no way to avoid the interview.
Maddie fell silent again. She wasn’t rocking anymore. She clutched her pink poodle, stunned. Kate realized she was going into shock.
Kate gently pried the poodle from Maddie’s arms and listened to her heartbeat. She examined her pupils and took a pulse. She found an extra blanket, draped it over the girl’s trembling legs and made her drink some water. Finally, she asked, “Is there anything I can do to help? Would you like to talk about it?”
Maddie scooped up the poodle and resumed her anxious rocking. Then she started screaming.
Kate pressed the call bell for the nurses’ station, and Yvette came running with the choice of needle or pills. Maddie choked down two pills with a cup of water, then resumed her out-of-control screaming. Eventually she settled into a kind of rhythmic sobbing.
Kate sat with her until the weeping subsided and the medicine took effect. Ten minutes later, the girl’s pulse had resumed its natural rhythm, and she grew perfectly still.
Kate encouraged her to talk about everyday things in order to distract her. She touched the poodle’s fluffy ears and asked, “Is this new?”
Maddie nodded. “Dr. Ira gave it to me.”
“Dr. Lippencott?”
“He came to see me today. We talked about stuff.”
“You did?”
“I like him a lot. Do you like him?”
“Very much.”
“We’re going to talk every day from now on, he says.”
“You and Dr. Ira?”
Maddie nodded sleepily and closed her eyes, shutting out the world.
40
KATE BARGED INTO IRA’S office. He was seated behind his desk, going over some paperwork.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were taking over Maddie’s treatment?”
He looked up and gave a resigned sigh. “Have a seat, Kate.”
“Why wasn’t I consulted?”
“Sit,” he commanded.
She sat down.
The office smelled of wood polish. His inbox was stacked two feet high. He put down his pen and folded his hands on the desktop. “Did you break the sad news to our patient?”
Kate nodded. “Just now.” On the ride back to Boston, she’d informed Ira about Blackwood’s execution and Nelly’s murder, and they’d agreed she should be the one to tell Maddie.
“How’d she handle it?”
“She’s resting now.”
“Okay,” Ira said. “I just got off the phone with the McCormacks’ attorney. They’ve decided to file a lawsuit. Hopefully, it won’t get very far. Risk Management’s on the phone with them now, discussing the possibility of a settlement.”
Kate pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Bottom line? I want you to take some time off. That’s an order.”
She winced. “So you’re taking over Maddie’s case?”
“Temporarily. Until things settle down. It’s time to face facts, Kate. You’re under an enormous amount of pressure right now, and that’s precisely why we have vacation days and sick days. Understand?”
All Kate understood was that the hospital considered her a liability.
“How many vacation days have you accrued?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she muttered. “Four or five.”
“Days?”
“Weeks.”
“Seriously?”
“They carry over.”
“Sheesh. You’re like a cyborg or something. Okay, you love to work, and that’s admirable. But what are you saving them up for? I shouldn’t have to twist your arm.”
“We’re in the middle of a crisis. I just told Maddie about her mother…”
“I have a question for you, Kate,” Ira interrupted. “Can you be an objective therapist right now? First you witnessed the execution of the man who killed your sister. Then you stumble across a murder… It’s too much.” He threw up his hands. “Do you realize how bad this looks? Do you understand the position you’ve put us in?”
“I can still be objective about my patients, Ira,” Kate insisted.
“Let’s be real.” He leaned forward. “You need to step away. Right now.”
Kate felt herself growing incensed. “Step away from what? Since when are we supposed to step away from our patients in the middle of a crisis? I just told Maddie her mother was dead; she needs me right now—”
“Kate. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
She covered her face with her hands and drew a deep breath. “Have you lost faith in me, Ira? Because if you don’t trust me anymore…”
He shook his head firmly. “I will never lose faith in you, Kate. I’m trying to help you.”
She nodded glumly.
“Okay. I want you to take a couple of weeks off starting today. Not six months from now.”
“What about my other patients?”
“I’ve asked Yvette to redistribute your appointments, and she just cleared your calendar. As of this moment, you’re free.”
“Free,” she repeated dully.
“Come back to us refreshed and relaxed. I won’t be assigning you any new cases until things have settled down. Let’s start with two weeks and see where we are. We can always extend it to four if necessary.”
“Four?” Kate said. “Am I being forced out, Ira? Tell me the truth.�
��
He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Just the opposite. I’m trying to keep you here.”
“Really? Because it feels like I’m being kicked out.”
“Let’s just avoid stirring things up until we get this lawsuit sorted, okay? Rather than getting tangled up with another disturbed girl and her murdered mother.” He softened his tone. “Look, sometimes we need our friends to remind us that we’re only human.” He smiled encouragingly at her. “It’s not such a terrible thing, is it? A little R&R?”
“I guess not.”
“Go home. We’ll talk again in two weeks. See where we are.”
41
KATE WENT HOME, UTTERLY exhausted. Ira was right. She was a self-admitted workaholic who didn’t know how to relax. She’d gotten herself in too deep. She shouldn’t have accepted Maddie Ward as a patient. Maybe this was a chance to regain control of her life.
She stood in front of the living-room windows and watched the dying sunlight glint in the icicles on the rooftops across the street. She craved a cigarette and needed a distraction. James would be home soon, the first time in three days. She suddenly realized how much she’d missed him. She found her mother’s cookbook and decided to surprise James with a gourmet meal. Something French and Julia Child-ish.
That night, they made love.
* * *
James was gone early the next day, back to Massachusetts General. Kate wandered the condo restlessly until, at lunchtime, unable to bear the aimlessness any longer, she decided to drive to the hospital to pick up some files. She might as well catch up on some paperwork while she was on the bench.
As she was gathering what she needed, she noticed that the jar of peanuts was gone. She looked around the office, rummaged through her desk drawers, even checked the wastebasket. Nothing. The peanuts had vanished.
Kate, like most of her peers on the third floor, never locked her office door, since this wing of the hospital was restricted access only. She rubbed the gooseflesh off her arms and glanced around as if the peanuts might magically reappear. Her frustration turned to anger. She stepped out into the corridor and called, “Hey, guys? Has anybody been in my office recently?”
Heads popped out of doorways.
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