Kate closed her eyes. This was supposed to be the best day of my life. She tried to picture Paul, her hand in his, his dark lashes sweeping down against his cheek, but before she could assemble the memory, consciousness teetered, spun and fell away.
* * * *
"Will you follow my finger with your eyes, please?” The ER doctor moved his lifted index finger back and forth in front of Kate's face.
Kate stared at him. “They did this in the ambulance. They said I was fine. No concussion."
"Do it for me again."
Instead of obediently following the finger, Kate crossed her eyes. The doctor heaved a sigh. “Ms. Scott..."
"There was a woman who came in on the other ambulance same time as me,” Kate broke in. “I need to know how she is."
Ellie had still been screaming when they took her out of the courthouse, the last thing Kate heard when they loaded her into the ambulance, high and scratchy as her throat gave out. Screaming, like the long scream of a falling tree, and then, after the thunk of the ambulance doors, nothing.
"I can't give out information on other patients, sorry.” The doctor took Kate's chin and tilted her head to inspect the small incision on her cheek. “What happened?"
"The guy who hit me wore a great big diamond pinky ring."
"Hmmmm.” The doctor pulled apart her hospital gown to inspect her bruised side. “Do you want to file a police report?"
The ER curtain flicked open. “Of course she wants to file a police report.” Louisa Frischler stepped inside the little alcove, looking as polished and mechanical as the medical equipment. “Great news, Kate. After Harris went postal all over you, the judge revoked his bail."
The doctor poked a spot under her breast. Kate hissed at the pain. “He wouldn't have been granted bail if you hadn't yanked the plea deal."
Louisa tipped her shoulders in a shrug. The right angles of her collarbone threatened to push through her bottle bronze tan. “The judge bought his attorney's pity-my-jerked-around-client spiel. But now we've got him. Ellie's testimony will be even stronger, after he tried to attack her. We've got the bastard right where we want him."
"My client isn't willing to testify,” Kate said in her sweetest voice.
"She's a material witness, Scott."
Material witness. She referred to Ellie as if she were merely another legal concept, like force majeure or non compos mentis.
"Besides, I'll subpoena her."
To the doctor, Kate said, “Can you make that woman leave, please?"
The doctor turned to Louisa. “You'll have to go, miss."
Louisa flipped out her ADA credentials.
The doctor looked back at Kate, then at Louisa. “Is she a prisoner? No one told me. There are rules about that."
Louisa flashed her even, white teeth and let out a metallic ringing sound Kate assumed was a laugh. “She's not a prisoner. Unless she obstructs justice. Or helps her client to obstruct justice."
Justice would be knocking you senseless with an IV stand.
"Check with me before you leave this hospital, Scott.” With a military turn, Louisa flicked the ER curtains enough to let all the sharp points of her body through.
The doctor closed Kate's gown. “Looks like all bruises, no breaks."
"Can I go?"
The doctor waved his hand distractedly. Kate took it for a yes and dressed the instant he left the curtained exam space. Streaks of blood marred the jacket's collar. She folded it over her arm and escaped.
She found an information desk and asked about Ellie, found that she'd been admitted into the psychiatric ward for observation. On the hospital elevator, she pushed the button for the seventh floor. A couple of the workers flicked her a look. The hospital elevator was bigger that the courthouse elevator, and it was ugly and modern. Nobody held Kate's hand.
The doors opened and Kate headed towards the first nurses’ station.
"I'm here about Ellie Harris."
A nurse, an older woman with tired eyes, looked her over. “And you are?"
"Her advocate.” Kate showed the woman her credentials, a copy of the court order appointing her.
A middle aged woman in a lab coat paused. “You're Ellie's advocate?"
"Kate Scott.” She held out her hand.
"I'm Dr. Saheed.” She flicked a quick look at the nurse, who returned Kate's credentials. “Walk with me?"
Kate accompanied Dr. Saheed down the sterile white hallway. “Ellie seems to think you were killed today."
Kate frowned. “She saw me get onto the ambulance; she knows I'm okay."
Dr. Saheed's smile was gentle, sad. “I'm sorry, Ms. Scott, but Ellie's too afraid to understand what really happened. She thinks you're dead, and she feels responsible. She keeps saying that she should have just run away and everyone would have been safe."
Kate felt her heart crack. “She didn't hurt me, Doctor. Can I see her? Talk to her?"
"I think that would be the best medicine we can give her right now. But,” Dr. Saheed stopped and unlocked a door, “I think she should stay here overnight. At least.” She waved Kate inside.
The room was small, with just a bed and one chair. Restraints dangled from the rails of the bed. Ellie sat in the chair, her knees wrapped up to her chest. She stared blankly ahead, her body rocking slightly as her fingers twisted the turquoise ring.
"Ellie?” Kate said softly.
The stare did not focus. Ellie didn't stop rocking, didn't stop twisting.
Kate went to her knees, put her hands on Ellie's.
The staring eyes did not meet hers, but a tear slipped down Ellie's cheek. “I'm so sorry, Kate. I'm so sorry."
"No, Ellie, I'm sorry. It was my job to protect you. I screwed up."
This brought a deep, shuddering breath, more tears. “Everything's my fault."
"It's not.” Kate pressed Ellie's hands. “You are being unbelievably brave, Ellie. I'm proud of you."
Ellie pressed her forehead against her knees, hiding her face. Her whole body shook with sobs. Kate came up from her knees and pulled the hard knot of Ellie's body into her arms, held her until the crying slowed. She looked at Dr. Saheed, who gave a small, sad smile, and shook her head slightly.
Kate put her hand on Ellie's frizzy hair. “Sweetie, do you want to stay here for a day or two? Will you feel safe?"
She felt Ellie's nod against her bruised side.
"I'll leave my number at the desk, with Dr. Saheed. You call me anytime.” She glared at the doctor. “All you have to do is ask, and they will call me. Understand?"
Both Ellie and Dr. Saheed nodded.
"I want you to rest now, Ellie, okay?” Kate went back down on her knees, put her hands on either side of Ellie's cheeks and waited until Ellie lifted her head. “Remember: you don't have to do anything you don't want to. Whatever you decide, Ellie, I am going to back you up and help you any way I can. We're a team. Got it?"
The teary eyes just stared. Kate dropped her hands, and Ellie dropped her head onto her knees again.
Dr. Saheed put her hand on Kate's shoulder. Kate got to her feet and followed the doctor out. She looked back at Ellie, saw nothing but the tight muscles in her arms and shoulders as she hugged herself into the smallest ball she could.
"We've given her something to help her relax. After that, we'll make sure she gets a good night's sleep."
"Doctor, how long can she stay here?"
Dr. Saheed stopped at the nurse's station, made some notations in Ellie's chart. “Depends on how well she stabilizes. I think at least tonight, probably another day and night."
Kate looked back at the blank white rectangle of Ellie's door, and then into Dr. Saheed's calm, sympathetic eyes. “Do you have a minute? Or two?"
Dr. Saheed looked at her watch and frowned.
Kate laid her hand on the doctor's arm. “A minute."
The doctor took her to a little waiting room with uncomfortable plastic chairs. Kate told her everything about the case, about the broken pl
ea, about Louisa Frischler's threat of a subpoena.
"As Ellie's treating physician, you can tell the court that testifying would harm her too much."
"But what about her husband? Won't he get away?"
Kate sighed. “Probably. But that's the DA's problem, doctor. You and I can't fix the justice system.” Kate leaned forward. “But we can protect Ellie."
Dr. Saheed pulled back, clearly torn between protecting Ellie and letting her drug-dealing, rapist-murderer husband go unpunished. “I don't know if I can..."
"And we won't know if you can until you observe Ellie and make a diagnosis. I wouldn't ask you to do something that wasn't medically sound, or ask you to say something in court that wasn't absolutely true."
Kate knew it was a long shot, but if Ellie were under psychiatric treatment at least she could keep Frischler from hounding her. She could buy Ellie some precious time in a safe place to gather her courage again. Maybe she would be able to testify.
Dr. Saheed thought it over for a moment, then nodded. “As long as you respect that I have to remain neutral, and only render my opinion to a degree of medical certainty. That will mean at least four days here, and then whatever course of care is appropriate."
Kate let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. “Thank you, Doctor."
Dr. Saheed walked Kate to the elevator. Kate gave her a handful of her business cards. The bell dinged; the door opened.
"As an advocate, Ms. Scott,” the doctor said, “you do a very good job."
Kate felt a stab, deeper than the pain of the bruises. “Never a good enough job."
The elevator closed on the doctor's eyes, now full of sympathy for her.
She rode down with the nurses and workers and visiting families, wondering what the hell she was going to do. Call a cab, go back to the courthouse, and get my car. Call work and tell Dowd how badly I screwed up. She let herself sag against the elevator wall.
The doors stopped on another floor, and, before a group of nurses could get out, Louisa Frischler got on.
Oh, God. Kate shut her eyes. Maybe if I don't see her, she won't see me.
"Scott, just who I was looking for."
Kate opened one eye.
"How's my witness?"
Ten ... nine ... eight ... seven. “Under psychological care and evaluation."
"Good, we could use the time. Listen, Scott. We need to take the offensive."
"Personally, I think you are offensive enough."
"What?"
The elevator doors opened to the lobby. Kate aimed toward the double doors, toward freedom. Frischler trailed behind, still talking.
"I want you to do a television interview."
"I am not doing a television interview.” Kate burst out of the hospital doors to find that the sun was sitting low in the sky, its light already a sleepy gold.
Louisa stuck a long hand under her jacket, extracted a cell phone a little bigger than a matchbook. “If we put you and your cut cheek on at 6:00 and 11:00, we can put pressure on Harris and his lawyer. Maybe they'll come to us, start dealing."
Kate whistled and waved her hand for a cab. “If you didn't yank the first plea, you wouldn't have to be worried about it now."
Frischler tapped the face of her cell phone. “Let me see ... who would give us the right audience?"
As the ADA scrolled through her contact list, Kate reminded herself that ripping the little phone out of Frischler's hand and shoving it down her throat would constitute, in the eyes of the law, aggravated assault.
A cab pulled up to the curb.
"Where do you think you're going?” Her tone said that no lowly little social worker turned her back on ADA Louisa Frischler.
Kate threw her a raised eyebrow and put her hand on the cab's door handle.
Frischler narrowed her eyes at Kate. “Your client will testify.” Frischler flicked her wrist. The phone flicked shut. “I will subpoena her."
"Subpoenaing a rape victim.” Kate's smile would have terrified a shark. “Should look good on campaign ads."
Frischler's mouth puckered into a little wrinkled “O” and her eyes popped open wide. Kate got into the cab and left her standing on the curb.
Chapter Five
By the time Kate reached her exit, the sun burned above the hills and the shadows slanted long and deep. She'd called Dowd on her cell phone, gave him the bad news from a distance. Good thing—Dowd had already fielded calls from Louisa Frischler and the DA himself, stressing how crucial Ellie's testimony was and how uncooperative Kate had been. He told her to lay low for the rest of the week while he tried to calm the waters, and not to forget to fill out an accident report. Kate disconnected with the uneasy feeling that she'd just been placed on probation, and wondered if the rest of the week off would turn into something much more permanent.
A fitting ending to a horrible day. Kate drove around the statue in the town's central circle three times. At home, Vanessa and Gwen expected to hear stories of her victory. She wasn't ready to face that. She finally turned down the tree-lined avenue that led to Café Foy. She could fortify herself with coffee before publicly embracing utter failure.
A quartet of giggling high-school girls sat on the sofa at the back of the shop. No Paul. Her heart sunk even lower, brushing the tips of her toes. She couldn't deny that she'd come in looking for Paul. She'd have to settle for the solace of being in the same place where he'd kissed her palm.
"You look like life kicked the crap out of you,” Dee said as Kate took a seat at the counter. “Literally."
Kate lifted her hand to the cut on her cheek. “Bad day."
"Hmmmm. It started out well enough."
Kate looked over at their sofa again. “It did.” She suppressed a sigh. “Does he ever come in any other time? I mean Paul?"
"Only breakfast."
She didn't know where he lived; she didn't know his telephone number. “Give me some of his stupid black goo."
"He had Café Noisette this morning. He taught me how to make it. You want that?"
Anything to make him feel closer. “Please."
Dee went off to make the coffee. Kate put her elbows on the counter and rested her chin on her laced fingers. He taught people how to make coffee the way he liked it: an autocratic habit that would have put her off, if he wasn't so damned charming about everything else.
"One Café Noisette."
Dee put the mug in front of Kate. Steam stiff with bitter caffeine and pungent orange made her close her eyes. “Black goo to me."
"He won't drink it any other way."
Kate heard the twinkling challenge in Dee's voice. She opened her eyes, lifted the mug, and took an experimental sip. “Gaaaaah! That's awful."
Dee collapsed against the counter, laughing. “This is too funny. Foreplay by java."
"It isn't foreplay.” Kate's voice rose, and the giggling high schoolers giggled all the more. “It isn't,” she insisted in a lower tone. “I don't have the time in my life for a complicated relationship..."
Dee cocked her eyebrow.
"...with some mystery man I see only in the mornings at Café Foy."
Dee smirked in a remarkably good imitation of Paul.
"What the hell kind of name is that anyway? Café Foy."
Dee gave a sniff of disdain. “Café Foy was the most famous coffee house in pre-revolutionary Paris. Camille Demoulins gave a speech about democracy in the Café Foy in July of 1789, and two days later, the Bastille fell."
Kate stared. “What's the Bastille?"
"Oh my Lord.” Dee rolled her eyes. “Drink your Café Noisette."
Kate drank. “Ugh. It's awful!"
"You know, Paul is a big buff about European history. Promise me you will find out what the Bastille is before you sleep with him."
Kate set down her mug, hard. “I'm not going to sleep with him!"
"You're an idiot if you don't."
Kate opened her mouth to start the Work Comes First refrain. But instead, her ja
w snapped shut. She couldn't lie to herself, or to Dee. If she could just zip up the time between breakfast and now in a black canvas bag and throw it out onto the interstate, she would. She wished she'd called off work when Paul kissed her hand, and spent the day finding out what it felt like when he kissed her everywhere else.
The cut on her cheek throbbed and with the pain came a rush of guilt. Kate put a five on the counter.
"Have a nice evening,” Dee said politely.
Kate turned to go. She got three steps away, then went back to the counter. Dee was waiting, her lips turned up and her eyes mocking.
"I don't suppose you know where he lives?” Kate asked.
"On Lincoln Avenue. In that ugly little green house with the incredible old garden."
"The one with the black iron gate, and the huge hydrangea bushes?"
"That's the one."
All this time, Paul had been just six blocks from her bedroom.
"Hey, what happened to your face, anyway?” Dee asked.
The question landed on Kate like an eagle on a mouse. “I ... I'm a crime victim advocate. My client ... her husband tried to go through me to get to her.” Kate touched the cut on her cheek. It was swollen. She tried to smile, make a story of it. “He wore this huge diamond pinkie ring, and he clobbered me with it. I saw stars and hit the floor, and..."
Dee stared, guilt on her face as plain as a neon sign.
"How's your client?” She finally asked.
"My client.” Kate took a deep breath. “She's in the psych ward."
Dee's face curled up in horror. “Oh, God."
"Yeah.” Kate found she could hardly whisper. “Bad day, but it started out okay."
* * * *
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