CHAPTER FIFTY
Pulling into the driveway of Ruth Wheeler’s split-level home, Ross questioned whether or not he was doing the right thing. Judging by the pulled drapes on every window, Ruth preferred to be left alone.
Camille changed the radio station and pushed back her seat. “This place doesn’t exactly look welcoming.”
“No. No, it doesn’t,” Ross said. “I’ll be out as soon as I can.” He headed up the flagstone walk and knocked softly on the front door. A small dog, Princess he guessed, barked and howled behind it. “Hello? Mrs. Wheeler.” He glanced over his shoulder at Camille, filing her nails in the passenger’s seat. “Mrs. Wheeler, please open up.” Ross cupped his hands around his eyes and peered through the frosted glass, attempting to see inside. The furniture took on strange shapes, distorted by the swirling glass pattern. He couldn’t make out anything other than the kaleidoscope light of a stained glass Tiffany lamp on the narrow entranceway table. He rang the bell. “Mrs. Wheeler?”
Princess scratched at the inside of the door, trying to claw her way through from the other side.
Small dogs, in Ross’s experience, were the most vicious per pound.
He expected the same to be true about Ruth Wheeler, who had finally responded.
“I’m coming,” she said. “I’m coming.”
Ross braced for inevitable confrontation.
“Can I help you?” A five-foot tall woman aged beyond her years answered the door with an overweight pug mix tucked under her arm. Ross had estimated Ruth to be around sixty based on context—her son and husband’s ages—but the woman in front of him easily looked seventy-five. Makeup settled in deep wrinkles on her face. Her narrowed, slate-colored eyes pierced him with their glare.
Ross cleared his throat, sufficiently intimidated. “Mrs. Ruth Wheeler?”
“Who are you and what do you want?”
The dog growled.
“I’m sorry to show up unannounced, but I was in the area for an appointment with Dr. Davis.”
“Jeremy sent you?”
“Not exactly.” Ross wasn’t comfortable lying to a woman holding a dog with bared teeth. “May I come in?”
“I’m afraid I’m not in the habit of inviting strangers inside. Mind telling me your business?”
“I’m here on behalf of your daughter-in-law, Lila. I’m Dr. Ross Reeves from Lakeside. We spoke on the phone.”
“Is that so?” Ruth scowled. “I thought I’d been clear. I have nothing more to tell you, Dr. Reeves. Good day.” Ruth slammed the front door, the sound followed by the click of the deadbolt.
“Mrs. Wheeler, please open up. It’s important that we talk. I understand you’re upset, but there’s something I have to tell you. Please, open the door.” He knocked one last time. “I need to talk to you about Blake.”
Ruth opened the door, clutching a cordless phone for dear life. “What do you know about my son?”
“I don’t want to have this conversation on your doorstep.”
Ruth eyed him as if she found him threatening in his sweater, chinos, and windbreaker. She looked past him to Camille, who waved from the car. “Who is that?”
“A friend.” Ross summarized the otherwise complicated answer.
“You may come in, Dr. Reeves, after you show me identification. One wrong move, I call the police.” She wagged the phone at him, enforcing the threat.
Ross dug his wallet out of his back pocket and handed her his driver’s license. “Oh, and here.” He showed her a laminated miniature of his medical degree, which he carried as much for posterity than anything else.
Ruth handed him back his things and backed away from the door.
Princess wouldn’t stop growling.
“Princess, be a good girl.” Ruth gently nudged the dog’s butt with the toe of her slipper, sending the overweight ball of fury scampering across the room.
“Cute dog.”
“She was Blake’s.” Ruth showed Ross to an outdated sitting room with a wood burning fireplace that appeared more decorative than functional. Cobwebs covered a stack of birch logs sealed behind the pristine glass doors that showed no sign of anything having ever burned behind them.
Ross sat in a chair whose seat was covered in plastic. It was a trick his grandmother had used to keep the new furniture clean. Thirty years later, the chair was out-of-date as hell, but in museum-quality condition. He smiled at the thought. Ruth would have liked her.
“What’s funny?”
Ross wasn’t sure the story would be as charming in context.
“Nothing,” he said. “You have a lovely home.”
Ruth’s stoic expression said she couldn’t be won over with flattery.
Ross took in the room, garnering a brief history lesson on the family.
Photographs covered the length of the mantle, honoring years of one life well-lived, and two cut far too short. Several black and white pictures captured a young couple, Ruth and her husband, Ross supposed, though the rigid crone glaring at him barely resembled the vibrant beauty in the pictures. Blake, whom Ross recognized immediately, appeared in each of the color photos, from childhood to his graduation from medical school. Despite the feud between Lila and Ruth, Ruth hadn’t taken down Lila and Blake’s wedding picture.
“Did I miss a spot dusting?” Ruth said.
“I’m sorry?”
“You were staring at the mantle like I missed something.”
“I was looking at your pictures. You have a handsome family. You must be proud.”
“Had,” Ruth said matter-of-factly. She sat in a wide wing-back chair and patted the seat for Princess to join her.
Ruth was ice, but the way she remained closed up in her sad, dark house surrounded by pictures and an overzealous dog that seemed the center of her attention, said there was more to her than mourning.
Ross knew a thing or two about women’s need to pretend. He thought about his mother, and about Mattie, and how strong both of them could appear, even when they were breaking.
“I understand you lost your husband when Blake was a teenager,” Ross said. “My father died in a construction accident when I was young. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“And I for yours.” It was the first kind thing Ruth had said to him.
“There’s a unique relationship between a single mother and a son, isn’t there?”
Ruth nodded. “Blake was everything to me.”
“You know, my mom was the most important person in my life. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do to make her happy, or keep her safe. I bet Blake was protective of you.”
“Your point?”
“Sons step up, Mrs. Wheeler. And they keep secrets when they have to, when a lie feels more right than the truth.”
“Blake wasn’t the secretive type.”
“Wasn’t he? Lila told me about the day you brought Princess to her at the park.”
“Their anniversary. Blake had wanted to surprise her.”
“They had decided never to get another dog. If Blake had asked permission, do you think Lila would have given it to him?”
“What are you getting at?”
“Lila came to love Princess, even though she wasn’t planned. Blake surely knew that would happen. That it was better to wait until Lila couldn’t refuse. Some secrets are kept for good reason. I think Lila would be glad to know Princess is being well taken care of.”
“I don’t think Lila would be happy about a single thing to do with me, Dr. Reeves. I’m sure you’re aware of the friction between us.”
“Yet you’re the one paying the bill for Lakeside.”
“With estate money. Blake would have wanted her taken care of. Lila should have never let him die. I know it and she knew it when she asked me to take Princess the day of Blake’s funeral. Some mistakes are unforgiveable.”
“You took Princess the day of the funeral? Did you know Lila meant to hurt herself?”
“I’m sorry to say that I suspected.” Ruth looked down at
the pale blue carpet. “Lila had asked me if I’d take Princess for a while. Of course I agreed to. I had always watched her when she and Blake needed someone, but when she said, ‘Even if it’s forever?’ I knew something was the matter.”
“And you didn’t try to stop her?”
“I was angry, Dr. Reeves. I am angry, but I didn’t believe for a minute Lila would go through with hurting herself.”
“That was enough for you?”
“Grief changes people. I figured taking Princess would be for a couple of days until Lila got her bearings. At the time, I honestly hated her.”
“You realize she was only doing what Blake wanted, right? His advance directive shut off the machines.”
“There was no way Blake would have ever signed such a thing. Lila, she—”
“She what?”
“Lila knows what she did and it’s between her and God. Guilt made her lock herself in that garage. I’m not the villain here.”
“What if I told you that Blake’s death was inevitable?”
“Everyone’s death is inevitable, Dr. Reeves.”
“But not all of us carry a deadly gene, do we?” Ross had intended to break the news more gently before Ruth’s attack on Lila, and the news about Mattie that had him completely stressed.
“What are you saying?”
“Huntington’s research has come a long way, but there’s no treatment and no cure. What if I told you that Blake carried the Huntington’s gene, that he tested positive a year before the shooting? Would you believe Blake might have signed the advance directive then?”
Ruth’s eyes returned to their former steely gray. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”
“I think you’re right about that, but before I go, there’s something I need to say on Lila’s behalf. Call Jeremy Davis. Ask him to tell you the whole story, and when he confirms what I just told you, that Blake was terminally ill, see if you can’t find it within yourself to absolve Lila. She did a selfless, difficult thing, letting your son go and you left her to die. Whether you leave her at Lakeside, or take her out like you’ve been threatening, know that removing her from medical care is as good as killing her.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
“Go.” Ruth pointed her bony finger out the door.
Ross walked to the car with his head down, ashamed for being harsh with an elderly woman who had endured enough loss for several lifetimes. He hadn’t meant to go so far, but something about Ruth’s cruel demeanor and her attack on Lila had his hackles up. A dull headache settled in at his temples as he slid into the driver’s seat.
“That is one pissed off old lady.”
“Not now, Camille.” Ross didn’t feel up to the banter. He connected his phone via Bluetooth and searched for Mark’s cell phone number under Contacts.
“What happened in there?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Ross glanced at the radio, tilting his head until he read the time on the clock washed out by the sun.
It was almost one in the afternoon.
He hit Send and the phone rang through the car’s speakers.
A gruff male voice answered. “Hello?”
“Mark, it’s Ross. I need a favor.”
“If I had a nickel for every time I heard that. How did things go in Edinburgh?”
“I can’t talk about that now. I’m on speakerphone. Listen, I’ve got a bit of an emergency in Chicago. I’m on my way back to the center now. It’ll take me probably two and a half hours or so, but I don’t have a lot of time to waste. I need you to get Lila to my office for four o’clock. Can you do that?”
“What about lunch?” Camille said, pouting.
“Sorry, but it’s drive thru or nothing.”
“Dr. Reeves, you’re breaking up,” Mark said. “Did you ask me to go to the drive thru?”
“That wasn’t for you, Mark. Lila. Four o’clock. My office. Can you handle that?”
“Will do. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Ross hung up the phone. “We’re going to have to hurry,” he said to Camille. “If we hit traffic, I’m going to be late.”
“I hear you, but—” Camille crossed her legs, bouncing a bit in the seat.
“But what?”
“I really have to go to the bathroom.”
* * * * *
Ross made the drive in record time, despite several pee breaks and two convenience store runs. Camille observed the institution of travel snacks with a vengeance. Ross dropped her at her place and arrived at Lakeside in just under three hours.
The parking lot was unusually crowded. Two navy blue cars with government plates caught his attention.
“What is going on here?” Ross said.
Chelsea glanced at him as he entered the lobby.
Two suited men stood in front of her desk. One wouldn’t stop talking. The other chewed the end of his pen. It wasn’t difficult to guess who they were or why they were there. They could only be state workers come to investigate Joshua’s case.
“Psst. Dr. Reeves.”
Mark waved from behind a door on the other side of the room.
Ross hurried to meet him.
“What’s going on?” he said.
“The state visit we were worried about came early,” Mark said.
“I was afraid of that. How did we become a priority? These things usually take weeks.”
“Joshua’s family pushed. Who knew they were politically connected?”
“I need to talk to Lila, Mark.”
“What you need to do is lay low. They’re looking specifically for you.”
“Why? I didn’t shove the screwdriver in Joshua’s ear.”
“No, but you helped him afterward.”
“And?”
“Your credentialing file is incomplete. No license.”
“Guy brought me on in a hurry. That’s easy enough to clear up.”
“Without your license, a malpractice coverage certificate was never issued.”
That, Ross knew, would take longer.
“So what’s the bottom line?”
“Technically,” Mark said, “you don’t work here. If you talk to the investigators, they’ll tell you you’re off Lila’s case, at least for now.”
“I can’t let that happen. I’m leaving for Chicago tomorrow. There isn’t time for this.” Ross leaned against the wall, considering his options. Sometimes curses were blessings in disguise.
“I’m afraid of that look, Dr. Reeves. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking there’s another way. What’s Lakeside’s policy on checking patients out for visitation? What would I need?”
“To leave a copy of your driver’s license and a signed contract stating you’ll take responsibility for the patient.”
“That’s it?”
“We’re a voluntary admission facility.”
“Then get me the paperwork.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea after what happened at the lake.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her, Mark. We’ll be back by lights out, before anyone realizes she’s missing. Trust me.”
“I want to, but there’s a catch.”
“What?”
“Lila has to agree to go with you.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Mark distracted the men at the reception desk long enough for Ross to sneak up to Lila’s room. Lila sat at the cramped built-in, reading by the white glow of the desk lamp. Her tangled hair looked as if it hadn’t been brushed in days and she wore wrinkled pajamas. Her head whipped around when Ross shut the door behind him.
“Dr. Reeves, you’re back.”
“Listen to me, Lila. We don’t have a lot of time. I need you to get dressed.”
“Dressed, why? Where am I going?”
“I’m not sure, but we can’t stay here. We have to talk.”
“About?”
Mark ducked inside the room and pulled the shade.
“What’s going on?” Lila said.
Ross didn’t answer her. “Mark, did you get the paperwork?”
Mark handed him a stapled packet. “I need a copy of your driver’s license.”
Ross wrestled it out of his wallet and handed it to him.
“Where am I supposed to make a copy up here?”
Ross shrugged. “Take a picture with your phone. Email it to yourself and print it.”
“Is anyone going to tell me what’s happening?” Lila said.
“Lila, I need your signature.”
“On what? And why?”
“No time to explain.” Ross grabbed a pair of jeans and a sweater from inside one of the drawers. “Sign and get dressed.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“Please, Lila, don’t make this more difficult.” Ross turned to Mark. “Where’s Guy?”
“In the conference room with one of the investigators.”
“I need you to get him for me.”
“You want him to know you’re here?”
“I didn’t do anything wrong. I need him to understand what’s happening and to let him know I’m leaving after this.”
“Where are you going?” Lila said. “You just got back.”
“Chicago.”
“Why? When?”
“I told you we don’t have time to talk about this right now. Mark, please get Guy out of that room and don’t let anyone know that I’m the one looking for him.”
Ross waited for Mark to leave, pleased he had pull off the distraction.
“Get dress, Lila. We have to hurry.”
“You were trying to get rid of him?”
“Yes, and it worked, but if he comes back and we’re still here, the deal is off.”
“What deal?” Lila ducked into the bathroom, leaving the door open enough to still talk to Ross while she changed.
“Will you please hurry? I’m trying to help you.”
“I don’t want help, Dr. Reeves. I want my life back.”
“What life? Where are you planning to go when Ruth stops paying?”
“She’s not paying. I am,” Lila said, coming out of the bathroom. “Blake made sure I was well taken care of, not that it’s any of your business. When I leave here, I’ll go home.”
The Missing Year Page 17