CHAPTER 45
Suddenly, lights were shining into Alex’s car. Another car door slammed. Alex gripped the steering wheel. Luke?
The lights were too bright for her to see the vehicle.
A security guard tapped on her window. “Everything okay, ma’am?”
“Just thinking,” she said.
“Can’t you think at home?” he asked.
Alex stared at the security guard, aware of the futility of trying to explain the divorce, custody problems, sexual assault, and memories of a mother who’d threatened to inflict horrific pain upon her if she ever told anyone the truth.
“You need to get going,” the guard said.
When she didn’t answer, he lowered his flashlight and stared at her quizzically. “Why are you here in the middle of the night?”
“I needed to put a pebble on the headstone.”
“And what made you think the headstone needed a pebble at three in the morning?” The security guard shook his head.
“I’m here to honor the Jewish tradition of placing a pebble on the headstone when you visit the grave. It’s out of respect for the dead.” She took a breath. Tonight she needed to touch the headstone in row five. It was the woman below that stone who’d made her believe she was unworthy of respect. Tonight was going to be the last time she would ever allow anyone to debase her. And this was the last time she was going to be prey for a weak person who needed to trample another person in order to demonstrate his power.
“Yeah, whatever,” the guard said. “You still have to leave.”
“I’ll leave in a minute.” She got out of the car, grabbed a smooth white pebble, and walked to row five. She placed the white pebble on top of the black granite headstone and spoke to the cold corpse beneath that stone: “Mom, I once read that many people go to the grave with their song within. Maybe there were so many lies in your life that you had no song. But I’m not going to die without living and sharing my song.”
Depleted, too tired to talk about what happened, Alex decided to forgo the police department. It would just complicate everything, and they probably wouldn’t even listen to her. She left the cemetery and drove to Liz and Stan’s house.
Stan answered the door.
Alex recoiled from the scent of a man.
Liz took in Alex’s tension and stepped in front of Stan. “Girls only, Stan. Go back to bed.”
Alex whispered to Liz, “Luke almost raped me.”
From the far end of the foyer, Stan yelled, “I’ll call the cops.”
“No!” Alex took a steadying breath.
“Why not?” Liz asked as she guided Alex inside and closed the door.
“I was going to the station, but his nephew works for the Compton department, and Luke told me the police, no matter which precinct, protect their own. I vacillated about going, but I decided I can’t chance filing a police report.”
“You’re staying here,” Liz said.
Alex agreed. She couldn’t go home. She couldn’t sleep in a bed where love and lust had both turned to hate. “And you have to promise you won’t call the police. I can’t lose my boys.”
“You really should contact the police,” Liz said.
“No! Too much is at stake.” Alex exhaled shakily. “I can’t chance this.”
Liz drew her close and held her until she stopped shaking. “Alex, none of this is your fault.”
Alex thought for a minute and then nodded wearily.
Liz led her to the spare room. “Get some sleep.”
“Thanks,” Alex said and collapsed onto the bed.
◆◆◆
When Alex opened her eyes, she saw Terrie, Meredith, and Liz. Registering Judi’s absence, she sat up and accepted a mug of tea from Liz.
“Tell us what happened,” Terrie said gently. “All of it, Alex, every detail exactly as you remember.”
“Terr, you can do better than that,” Meredith said.
“This is the way to process.” Terrie started to tap Alex’s hand.
Alex felt like a daughter receiving the comfort only a loving mother could give: love laced with acceptance, even now, at the ugliest moment of her life. Then, feeling oddly detached, she began to speak. As she revealed each and every detail of Luke’s horrific debasement, sweat beaded on her forehead.
Terrie kept tapping on Alex’s hand. “Did you leave anything out?”
“What’s the deal with the tapping?” Meredith interrupted.
“EMDR is a process to—”
“Just do it and get her better,” Liz said.
“I told you every sordid detail.” Alex trembled.
“Let me explain,” Terrie said. “Sexual abuse isn’t about sex.”
“Wanna bet?” Alex said.
Terrie shook her head. “It’s about control. Luke feared he couldn’t control you any longer. He lost power over you and had to do something to claim you, so he escalated.
Alex rubbed the scar on her right wrist.
“Let’s go over it again,” Terrie said. “It’s the best way to process. Trust me.”
Alex began anew. It was as though each detail in the retelling made the pain and ugliness float away. When she completed the tale for the third time, she felt both exhausted and unexpectedly strong. She looked at her friends, more grateful for their support than she could ever express.
“Enough psychoanalyzing. What about drugs?” Meredith smoothed back her mane of long black hair with her left hand.
Alex stared at Meredith’s ring finger. “You?”
“Warren gave it to me last night.” Meredith flashed her ring.
Alex smiled faintly. “You said marriage was pedestrian.”
“For others, but not for moi.” Meredith winked.
“What are all the guys at Waters’ bar going to do?” Alex asked, sinking back in bed.
“They can dream, can’t they?” Meredith said. “And Jon will be my adorable ring bearer.”
“If I have custody of him by then.”
“You will,” Liz said. “It’s only a matter of time.”
“Time,” Alex repeated. Time used to be clocks and calendars. Now, time was measured by before Gabe took the boys and then after they left. And after was also the chaotic reality that was Luke. Time, real time, didn’t matter. Now, the only thing that mattered was time with her children. She looked at her friends and wondered aloud, “Do we ever appreciate anything until it’s taken from us?”
“I appreciate you all so much that I’m having you in my wedding party,” Meredith said.
“Yes, tell Alex about your absurd idea for the wedding,” Terrie said.
“Warren doesn’t want to wait, so we’re doing the deed in six months. I have this perfect vision: the bridal party, composed of the fabulous women of my First Friday Book Club, will all wear black tuxedos, and I’ll be in white. Oh, the drama of it.”
“That’s ridiculous. Meredith, you’ll look beautiful without all of us looking like shit in tuxedos,” Liz said.
“For one night, I want everything to be focused on moi.”
“It always is,” Terrie said.
Alex looked up as Judi entered the room.
“A patient died in the hospital this morning,” Judi said, her gaze on Alex.
“Death happens in hospitals,” Alex said, “Just like sex happens…never mind.” The mere mention of Gabe’s hospital took her mind to its unsavory, destructive place.
“Judi, after being married to a physician for so long, you can’t be surprised by that,” Liz said.
“Twenty-five years. Silver anniversary party’s coming up. You should be getting your invitations soon,” Judi said. “But listen to me. Someone died in the hospital, and—”
“Is there a correlation between the patient who died and Gabe?” Meredith asked.
Judi somberly looked at the women. “The patient had chest x-rays two days ago, and then she died. Her lungs were filled with fluid. The radiologist recommended sending the patient to a pulmonologist, but—”
“Then it wouldn’t be Gabe’s responsibility. He’s a cardiologist, not a pulmonologist,” Alex said, reflexively defending Gabe.
Judi shook her head. “He was her primary care physician, the one who admitted her. His entries for two days prior to the patient’s death were: ‘Patient stable. Doing well.’ The note was signed by Gabe, but he hadn’t even examined the patient.”
“How’d they find out he didn’t examine her?” Meredith asked.
“Easy,” Judi said. “The patient’s son told the nurse either he or his sister had been with their mother around the clock, and it wasn’t until they were about to take the patient to the morgue that Dr. Gabriel Rose raced into the room, yelling, ‘I need her chart.’”
Alex’s eyes widened. “Are they going to sue Gabe?”
“Since the patient was seventy-five and on Medicare, it’s considered a federal offense when a physician documents chart notes and doesn’t actually perform the service,” Judi said.
“Yep,” Liz said, “And in all my years in insurance, I’ve never seen a case where Medicare doesn’t investigate. Then the secondary, let’s say Blue Cross, also files a criminal charge.”
“Criminal?” Alex gasped. Even though Gabe was now her enemy, “criminal” was not a word fit for the father of her children.
“Gabe’s chart notes indicated he’d examined the patient every single day and had reviewed all of the diagnostics,” Judi said.
“It’s definitely a federal offense,” Liz said.
“Judi, your husband has to give Alex the patient’s name,” Meredith ordered.
“Don’t really need it,” Liz said. “If a physician is accused of Medicare fraud, all the medical records are seized by federal agents. Then they conduct a thorough investigation.”
“But Gabe could cover it up,” Alex said, slipping back into the past when Gabe had been successful, infallible, strong.
Liz shook her head. “Medicare fraud is serious. Why would Gabe chance it?”
“He’s a gambler,” Alex said, images of their last night at the Bellagio Hotel flashing before her.
“I guess he kept getting away with it,” Terrie said. “Remember, I told you, people escalate until they’re caught.”
“Cut the psychoanalyzing,” Meredith said and impatiently returned to the issue. “Let’s focus on how we’re going to destroy the good doctor.”
“Meredith, go call Alex’s attorney now,” Liz instructed.
“Good idea,” Meredith agreed and left the room. She spoke to Mr. Leventhal for several minutes, and when she returned, she was smiling.
“What did Leventhal say?” Alex asked.
“Leventhal said you’ve got nothing to worry about. He has it all handled.”
CHAPTER 46
The week after the Christmas vacation, Alex left the office early on Friday and rushed to the final and most critical meeting with Dr. Weisbarth for his “unbiased” forensic evaluation.
A tanned Dr. Weisbarth walked into the waiting room and greeted her. “Could you please wait for the family?”
She stared at him, wondering whether that meant he’d already made his decision to exclude her from the family. Before she could answer, he turned and went back to his office.
Gabe and the boys arrived a short while later.
“Mommy,” Jon yelled as he dashed to her and hurled himself into her arms.
Eric and Daniel followed Gabe to a seat in the waiting room.
The doctor opened the waiting room door, and, with a wave of his hand, he urged them to follow him to his office. Alex took her seat in the now-familiar arrangement.
“Boys,” Dr. Weisbarth said and smiled cordially, “I need you to tell me where you’re the most comfortable. I mean with your dad or … um … with your mother.”
Daniel looked at his mother, then turned away. “I’m good with both parents,” he said.
Eric nodded at Gabe, and then said, “I kinda feel better at—”
“Can you do that cork trick for my mommy?” Jon interrupted.
“Eric, please elaborate,” Dr. Weisbarth said, ignoring Jon’s question and appearing anxious, a departure from his previously composed demeanor.
“A cork trick?” Alex prodded, taking a cue from Dr. Weisbarth’s discomfort.
“Yeah, Mommy, a cork from a wine bottle,” Jon said. “It was funny, and you’d like it.”
“Just a silly trick I did during one of our prior sessions.” Dr. Weisbarth smiled without parting his lips.
“You showeded everybody at the beach,” Jon said.
“Jon-a-than,” Gabe said, his voice stern and impatient.
Jon’s lips began to quiver and tears welled in his eyes.
A tense expression on his face, Dr. Weisbarth said, “Since this is our last session, I need you boys to really think about where you’d like to live. Actually, I think it’s best to talk to each one of you separately.” He dismissed them all with the exception of Eric, his first interviewee.
Alex could barely draw a breath. Hadn’t Daniel already answered the question that would determine her fate? As her gaze swept over her vacation-tanned children, she despaired. Will Dr. Weisbarth make certain my sons remain in their father’s world? It took every ounce of strength she possessed to say nothing. She wanted to ask Dr. Weisbarth when he’d shown Jonathan a cork trick on a beach. Could Gabe have invited him on a vacation? A bribe?
“Jonathan, come with me,” Gabe said and forcefully took Jon’s hand.
Silently, they sat in the waiting room. One by one, they were called back to talk to Dr. Weisbarth. When it was Jon’s turn, he refused to go, even after the older boys told him they’d each gotten a piece of chocolate. Finally, he reluctantly agreed to talk to the doctor.
As soon as Jon came out of the doctor’s private office, Gabe rushed to him, obviously making sure he didn’t say anything else about the cork trick. Then Gabe instructed the boys to follow him to the car.
It was finally Alex’s turn to speak to Dr. Weisbarth. Fearful she’d say something the doctor would construe as evidence she was an unfit mother, her heart was beating so quickly, she thought she’d faint.
“What else can you tell me about this family?” Dr. Weisbarth asked.
“This isn’t a family anymore, and although I’m no longer a wife, I am a good mother.”
“I know,” he said softly.
Alex wondered whether he said it because he feared the repercussions of the cork trick or he finally believed her.
After asking a few more questions, Dr. Weisbarth told her his report would be completed within a week. He dismissed her without even smiling, without even giving her the perfunctory smile, the one where he didn’t part his lips.
She left the office and walked to her car, reassuring herself the meeting had gone as well as she could have hoped. As she started to drive back to Liz’s house, she thought about the boys. She missed them so much now that they were living at Gabe’s. She missed Daniel’s gentle reassurances and his thumbs-up at just the right time. She missed Jon’s snuggles. She even missed the way Eric would mimic Gabe.
She looked over at the empty front seat, the boys’ shotgun seat. She didn’t remember moving it back that far, nor did she remember the boys reclining the seat at such an angle. Suddenly, she felt a firm grip on her right shoulder. She knew the touch but was sure she was just imagining it.
The grip tightened.
“Keep driving,” he said. It wasn’t harsh; it was more a plea.
Terrified, she turned to look at Luke in the backseat. She hadn’t seen him when she opened the door. He had to have been lying on the backseat floor. “How d
id you get into my car?”
“Gabe gave me the key,” he said.
“What?” Fear and anger overtaking her, she couldn’t unscramble his words—Gabe, key? It made no sense.
“Alex, I’m here to help you. I’ve got to talk to you.”
“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say,” she said and thought about stepping on the gas and speeding to the police station.
Suddenly, Luke slid across the backseat. He was directly behind her. Then he catapulted himself over the console, inadvertently kicking her as he moved to the front passenger seat. He was right next to her.
She put her hand on the door and thought about jumping out.
“I promise I can help you win in court,” he said.
Moving her hand from the door, she clutched the steering wheel. She realized she’d almost forgotten about pressing her foot on the gas. Confused and disoriented, she tried to focus on the road but couldn’t. “Why would Gabe have given you the key?”
“Stop the car.” He reached for her arm and held it tightly.
She pulled over.
“Do you have a gun?” she asked, fearful he was going to kill her.
“I’m here to help you,” he said.
“You have a strange way of helping,” she said.
“Gabe wanted me to—”
“What are you talking about?” she asked. “You don’t know Gabe.”
“Oh, I know Gabe. I was at his house doing some plumbing, and I saw that he had tennis racquets in the garage. That’s how the conversation got started.”
“You had a conversation with Gabe?”
“Yes, he actually talked to me while I was fixing a plumbing problem at his house. Even rich people have to shit.” He laughed, then appeared to catch himself. “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just so tired of them thinking they can buy people, and I’m ashamed I fell for it.”
“What are you talking about?” She was sweating and trembling. There couldn’t be any connection between Luke and Gabe. It wasn’t possible.
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