“I think it’s more a matter of me taking advantage of you. You also told me you couldn’t talk about Sebby’s treatment.”
The issue of the parameters of their friendship was now unavoidable. “Look, the reason I wanted to come over tonight was to talk about where things stand with us, because I’ll need your help if we’re going to be friends. If I hadn’t been the doctor on duty when Sebby came in, this wouldn’t be a problem. But since I was, I’m bound by a code of professional ethics.”
Glynn shrugged slightly. “We all have those.”
“Exactly. And mine are there to safeguard you and Sebby. I can’t allow my personal relationship with you to compromise his treatment in any way. I need to stay totally out of that picture, because I’m not privy to his sessions. It would be unfair for me to offer a professional opinion at this stage. In fact, I could get my license jerked for butting in.”
“I understand that. I promise I won’t ask again.”
“But there’s another issue, and that has to do with you and me. I have to be careful not to take advantage of you.”
Glynn looked at her blankly. “That went right over my head. How could you take advantage of me? Isn’t it the other way around?”
Charlotte sighed. Honesty was the only option. “I care about you, enough that it makes all the bells and warnings go off in my head. I can’t allow myself to act on anything I might be feeling for exactly the reasons you said the other night. You have too much going on in your own life right now to be thinking about someone else. I can’t take the trust you have in me as a doctor and turn it into something selfish for my own needs.”
Glynn shook her head slowly, and Charlotte feared she had read too much into their embrace.
“Charlotte, just because I ask you questions doesn’t mean I think of you as my doctor, or even as Sebby’s doctor. I only ask because you understand these things.”
“Fair enough.” She bit her tongue, hoping Glynn would at least respond to her declaration that she cared for her.
“But I’m glad to know what I’m feeling isn’t one-sided. I’ve been worrying since Monday night that I made a fool of myself.”
Charlotte was flooded with relief. “No, you didn’t.”
“Good. So when this is all behind us, do you think maybe we can . . . ?” She put a hand over Charlotte’s.
“See where it goes?”
“Yeah.”
They stared at each other until they burst out laughing, finally breaking the awkward tension.
Charlotte slapped her thighs and stood. “Okay, that’s settled. Now I’m going to get out of here so you can get to bed early.”
“I’m really glad you came by.”
“Me too.” She pulled on her coat and fought the natural urge to give a Glynn another hug. “How are your treatments going?”
“Fine. The hardest part is just getting there, especially when I have to scrape my windshield in the dark.”
“Why don’t I come by in the morning and drive you to your appointment and then on to your office?”
“You don’t have to do that.” Still, she looked pleased by the offer.
“I’m serious, Glynn. This is breast cancer, for God’s sake. You keep acting like it’s no big deal, but I know for a fact those treatments are no picnic. Radiation burns and itches. It can sap your energy and make your chest hurt. And even when it’s over, you have years of worrying about whether or not the cancer’s going to come back.”
Glynn frowned. “I may have liked it better when I wasn’t thinking about it.”
“Look, all I’m saying is you should let people help. There aren’t all that many things others can do for you, but I can be here at six thirty in the morning. You’ll be cold for all of ten seconds while you run from your front door to my warm, toasty car.”
“Thank you, my friend.”
Glynn lowered her reading glasses so she could see the chart on display at the front of the chamber. She had been looking forward to this vote on alternative fuels for several months and was pleased to see the bill finally going forward. Many of her Republican colleagues had resisted the efforts on behalf of their oil constituencies, but the corn growers back in Indiana would be happy.
Hands down, she reflected, today was her best day since learning she had breast cancer. Though more tough times lay ahead, at least she and Sebby both were in the home stretch of their respective treatments. Charlotte had helped her see that, and would be there to help carry the load. It was amazing to Glynn how much that affected her outlook.
It was refreshing to know someone who could talk so candidly about her feelings. If her colleagues here at the Capitol were as straightforward and honest as Charlotte, they all might actually get things done. Her thoughts drifted, so much that she was startled by a tap on her shoulder.
“Congresswoman?” Two officers from the Capitol police were standing behind her. “Can you come with us, please?”
“Sebby . . .” she whispered, as her heart began to pound. God, no. Horrible images of her son rushed through her head as she followed the officers to the door, anxious for the news. All around her, people had stopped talking and were watching her urgent departure.
When the tall double door opened at the back of the chamber, she was met immediately by two more policemen, and dozens of reporters and photographers. Cameras flashed as one of the policemen approached her. “Glynn Wright?”
“Yes,” she answered, totally bewildered.
“I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of Congressman Sebastian Wright. You have the right to remain silent . . .”
Charlotte squirmed in her seat as her colleagues debated the finer points of medical ethics involving interactions with patients and their families. If she hadn’t known better, she would have guessed the whole topic was staged to coincide with her presentation at grand rounds, just to drive home the point that she was on thin ice over her relationship with Glynn. It was clear that her boss, Dr. Perdue, believed all social contact with patients and their families was inappropriate, even though several doctors were making cases for exceptions. However, none were arguing in favor of allowing romantic relationships with family members.
Dr. Perdue clapped a hand on her shoulder as the other doctors filed out of the classroom. “Very good job on your presentation, Charlotte. You should be proud of your program.”
“We are. It’s a testament to everyone’s hard work.” She walked out to find Brandon waiting. “You’re such a suckup,” he said, his brown eyes twinkling.
She smiled absently, still trying to shake off her paranoia about the ethics discussion. Her friendship with Glynn was no doubt something they would frown on at the hospital, not because it explicitly broke any rules, but because it was in a gray area, and even gray was off-limits as far as Perdue was concerned.
Once in her office, Charlotte thumbed through her messages, not seeing any that required action on her part. “Looks like I have a whole afternoon to work on my files.”
“You should turn on the TV in your office,” Joyce said. “There’s a big story on the news about some congresswoman being charged with killing her husband.”
“Did they say who?”
“I think it was Gwen something, from Indiana. She took over her husband’s seat when he died. They always thought it was an accident, but now they say they have new evidence.”
Charlotte shuddered so hard she thought she might faint. She entered her office and closed the door. As she waited for the picture to come to life on her small television, her mind darted across dozens of images . . . Sebby talking of his vague memories, Glynn’s tearful visit to this office, the smile on her face this morning as she got into Charlotte’s warm car.
“. . . the district attorney is keeping the evidence under wraps, but our sources tell us the congresswoman’s son has come forward as an eyewitness . . .”
That wasn’t right. Sebby couldn’t have seen that because he said his mother was asleep. He had awakened her to t
ell her about it.
Charlotte retrieved her keys and opened the cabinet where she kept Sebby’s file, including the transcript of their session. Her hands shook as she thumbed through the pages to read what he said.
Mom says I came in the room to get her, but I don’t remember that part.
He hadn’t remembered it. All he knew about finding his father dead was what Glynn had told him. Was it really possible she had killed her husband and hidden behind her son all this time?
No, Charlotte didn’t believe that about Glynn. She had loved her husband.
Maybe Sebby was just confused. Maybe Mark had somehow planted the idea in his head and Sebby mistook it for an actual memory.
She sat mesmerized by the news program, which showed archive footage of Glynn with her husband back when he served as congressman. Glynn’s photo from the funeral was the background for talking heads who spoke of the allegations as if they were ironclad evidence. They even went so far as to discuss how fortunate she was that the District of Columbia had no death penalty. Her constituents back in Indiana were reacting in a series of feeds from a local television station, all expressing shock and anger.
Of course they were shocked, Charlotte thought. How would anyone think Glynn could do something like this?
Her intercom buzzed and she picked up the line. “Yes?”
“There’s a call for you on line one, a Michael Gattison. He says he’s an attorney, and it’s very important to talk to you right away.”
“Okay,” she sighed, and took the call.
“Dr. Blue, I’m Glynn Wright’s attorney. Can we talk in confidence?”
Charlotte felt a rush of nervousness and looked back at the door to make sure it was closed. “That depends on what you wish to talk about.”
“My client asked me to call you. She needs a favor, and told me you were the only one she could ask.”
Chapter 13
Charlotte paced her town house, asking herself again if this was a huge mistake. She could lose her job over this. No one could know—not Brandon, not her family, not her friends. It was one thing to be secretive about a potential romance, quite another to hide a relationship with an accused murderer.
So why was she doing this? It wasn’t just because she believed Glynn was innocent, though she wanted to hear that from Glynn. The best reason she had was that she had promised Glynn her friendship, and being a real friend wasn’t only about doing the easy things.
Glynn’s arrest was still the top story on the news. The Court Channel had covered this morning’s arraignment live, showing a desolate Glynn beside her attorney. She had delivered her not guilty plea with little emotion, showing neither defeat nor defiance.
Charlotte looked out at the quiet street, where her Saab was parked at the curb in order to make room in the garage for her clandestine guest. When the expected phone call finally came, she pressed the button to raise her garage door. Moments later, a Mercedes CL coupe with tinted windows pulled in, and she closed it again, shielding the occupants from the prying eyes of her neighbors.
She opened the door to the garage, immediately greeting a distinguished-looking older gentleman, impeccably dressed and groomed.
He held out his hand. He was her height, trim and handsome, with silver hair. “Charlotte, I’m Michael Gattison, Glynn’s attorney. We appreciate this.”
“Of course.” Saying she was glad to help would have been a lie. She was a nervous wreck.
Michael tipped the driver’s seat forward and helped Glynn from the backseat, where she had probably been crouched since leaving the courthouse. “Did Tina come by?” he asked.
“Yes, about an hour ago.” Charlotte was aghast at Glynn’s disheveled appearance. She was wearing yesterday’s clothes and yesterday’s makeup as well. “I took everything upstairs to the guest room.”
They entered the living room, where Glynn looked about the house as though shell-shocked. “I need a shower.”
“It’s all ready for you. If you need anything else—”
“I need to be clean.”
Charlotte recognized the reaction as Glynn’s effort to distance herself from the jail where she had spent the night. “Come with me.” She glanced at Michael, who nodded in agreement. She led the way upstairs, stopping first at the open bedroom. “Your things are here. I made room in the dresser drawers, and I’ll help you put things away after your shower.”
Glynn took it all in, showing little emotion. Suddenly she caught Charlotte’s elbow as she turned to leave. “Thank you.”
Charlotte gave her forearm a reassuring squeeze. “Get clean, and get some rest. We’ll call out for pizza later.”
Glynn nodded as tears pooled in her eyes.
“Glynn, is it okay for me to talk to Michael?”
“Yes.”
Charlotte returned downstairs to find Michael staring out the window into the back garden.
“Can I get you something?”
“No, thank you. Is Glynn all right?”
“I was just going to ask you that. She looks like she’s been through the wringer.”
“She had a bad night in jail. I tried to get her arraigned earlier, but this morning was as soon as they would bring her in.” He took the offered seat on Charlotte’s wide leather sofa. “Have you been keeping up with things on the news?”
“Yes, but I don’t think the news people really know what they’re talking about at this stage.”
“Unfortunately, their sources in the police department are pretty good. It seems Sebby revealed to his therapist that he saw her kill his father.”
“The Sebby I talked to would never have ratted out his mother, even if it were true.”
“That’s what Glynn said, but we won’t even get to ask about that until the deposition.”
“Do you believe him?”
“Glynn’s story has never wavered. She was asleep when it happened. Sebby woke her up and took her to his dad, who was already dead. That’s what’s in the police report, and that’s what she still says today.”
Charlotte shook her head, thinking back to the specific words Sebby had used to describe the events. “Are you Glynn’s attorney of record?”
“I am, so anything you can say to Glynn, you can say to me.”
That was an important distinction, since Sebby had signed a waiver allowing her to discuss his case with his mother. “I reviewed the transcript of my evaluation yesterday. Sebby didn’t remember what happened. He recalls only what his mother told him, which is that he woke her up.”
Michael frowned, clearly disturbed by the news. “Does his new therapist have copies of these files?”
“No, the only thing I forwarded was my treatment recommendations. Everything else is locked in my desk.”
“Let’s hope it stays there.”
“We both know it won’t.” If Sebby waived the right to confidentiality, she would likely be required to hand over the transcript and the diagnostic interview.
“Do you tape all of your evaluations?”
“Most of them. I use a digital voice program that creates a written transcript.”
“Is that something you’re required to do?”
“No, I just like to have good records.”
“Good. I’ll try to argue that the transcript and tape are your personal property.” He made a note on his BlackBerry. “Was there anything incriminating or exculpatory in his interview, or anything else from the transcript that might be helpful?”
“His recall of his father’s death is vague. In fact, I made a diagnosis of dissociative amnesia.”
“Which is?”
“Sebby’s memory is selective. He remembers details from the time period, but nothing about the specific event.”
“And you recommended a program to help him recover his memories.”
“Not just recover them, but face them down. I also diagnosed post-traumatic stress disorder, which I believed was a result of finding his father dead.”
“So the prose
cution will argue that his stress actually results from seeing his mother kill his father.”
“Or maybe because he accidentally killed his own father,” Charlotte said, knowing Glynn had already dismissed that as a possibility. “I’ll probably have to give a deposition, you know.”
“I’m glad we have you on our side.”
“I’m not on anyone’s side, Michael. I have to tell the truth.”
“Of course you do. But Glynn says we won’t have to worry about you grandstanding in court. If we proceed to trial, it almost certainly will be televised from start to finish.”
“You think there’s a chance it won’t go to trial?”
“If Sebby recants, if the therapist admits coercion, if Glynn decides to enter a plea . . . any of those things could stop it from going forward.”
“And if none of those things happen?”
“The trial is scheduled to start in six weeks.”
“That soon?”
“I don’t want to give the prosecution any more time to prepare. Besides, there’s a lot at stake, and the sooner we get it over with, the lesser the fallout.”
“What’s this going to mean for her job?”
“She has to return to the Capitol on Wednesday for an Appropriations meeting. That’s when the real circus will start.”
“I don’t see how she can keep working through this.”
“Wouldn’t you? She needs to proclaim her innocence. What better way to do that than to go on as if she expects a full acquittal?”
His rationale made sense, but she couldn’t imagine Glynn going to work under such intense personal scrutiny. “How is her staff taking the news?”
“Tina Carlson and Roy Baker are behind her one hundred percent. So is Randy Williston, her top aide back in Indiana. Chip Cichetti is a relatively new hire, and she’s asked to have him reassigned so this won’t be a cloud on his résumé.”
“What is she going to need from me, Michael . . . and for how long?”
“Like I told you on the phone, I want to keep her out of sight for a few days. Maybe we’ll get lucky and the media will find something else to chew on.”
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