by D. J. Palmer
The police had another theory, though, namely Becky Gerard.
Detectives Spence and Capshaw had grilled Zach in his office for the better part of an hour, asking all sorts of questions about Becky’s behavior, her motivations, her state of mind. When they dived into the dark subject of poisons, Zach got a clearer picture of their thought process. But what kind of poison could cause a massive malfunction of the heart’s electrical system? Toxicology tests were not conclusive. There was no grand panel that covered all known toxins, but in Levine’s case, it was unclear what to even look for. Only the standard tests were ordered, and they had all come back negative.
Zach had promised to contact the detectives should he think of anything that might be useful to their case. In his off-hours, he had begun doing research, trying to match Levine’s autopsy to the known effects of various exotic toxins. He was asking himself a most difficult question: Could Becky Gerard’s commitment to her daughter have driven her to kill? Would he have killed if he felt that Will’s life was in danger? Both answers frightened him.
“Thanks for making the time, Zach,” Knox Singer said as Zach settled into his chair.
“Happy to be here,” Zach said—as if he had had some choice in the matter, as if he could have refused the CEO’s meeting request.
“We’re going to get right to it,” Singer said. “Becky Gerard is causing us serious difficulty.”
“Well, you did take her daughter by court order,” said Zach.
“For good reason,” Singer said. “That woman is a menace.”
“Or she’s just a very committed parent.”
Amanda Nash leaned forward with a look suggesting Zach was being naïve. “Would a committed parent threaten to sue any other facility that agrees to care for Meghan?” she asked.
“If that parent believed in her convictions enough, then, yes, I suspect they would. I would.”
Knox Singer interrupted. “I’ve talked this over with Amanda and Dr. Levine, God rest his soul, during several private conversations. You understand as well as anyone the medicolegal environment we’re subject to these days. We all have to be extremely cautious, but after those meetings, and they were contentious, I assure you, I’m more convinced than ever we have an obligation, a legal duty, to protect that child from her mother.
“Now, what we need is for you to reach out to Mrs. Gerard. She trusts you. Listens to you. Tell her to back down, for Meghan’s sake. This media attention has got to stop. Let’s have a sit-down, see if we can come to an arrangement.”
“You don’t honestly think she’s innocent in all this, do you, Zach?” Nash asked.
“To be honest, I’m not sure what I think.”
Zach knew better than to bring up his extracurricular research into toxins. Doing so would only add confusion to an already confused situation. But there was another theory Zach had been considering, one he felt the timing was right to share.
“What about Carl Gerard?” Zach asked.
“What about him?” Singer said.
“It’s my understanding that he’s been present both times Meghan has, for argument’s sake, experienced some yet-to-be-determined medical event during their visit.”
“Are you suggesting that Carl Gerard, not Becky, has some sort of sway over his daughter?” Dr. Nash sounded incredulous.
Zach returned a half shrug. “I’m merely suggesting that the father’s behavior is something to consider.”
“How so?” Nash asked.
“We have a tainted sample from the muscle biopsy. These things happen. We need to repeat the procedure. He won’t grant his consent. Now it’s headed to court. Becky Gerard has met with Kelly London and convinced her to push for a special hearing to force the second biopsy. Carl’s not budging. Does this sound like a committed parent who has a child’s best interest at heart?”
Nash did not appear convinced. “Isn’t Meghan deathly afraid of needles because of all the tests and treatments she’s received? Tests and treatments, I might add, that were wholly unnecessary and driven entirely by the mother.”
“It’s your opinion they were unnecessary,” Zach said.
“And that of the court,” Singer added.
“It’s not an official opinion yet, Knox,” Zach countered. “There’s been no formal ruling. I’m merely postulating that while it’s rare for a father to have this particular mental health problem, it’s not unprecedented. For someone with Munchausen’s, the attention Meghan’s case is generating would be highly addictive, which could explain why he seems so keen on perpetuating the conflict, fighting against a test that could prove a mito diagnosis rather than being open to exploring all treatment possibilities.”
“It’s always a mito diagnosis with you, Zach.”
“Are we going there, Knox?” The dream had put Zach on edge, and he was not sure he could restrain himself if pushed. “I’m not going to question my findings or talk about my other patients. This isn’t the forum.”
CEO or not, Knox Singer was not someone to openly challenge. Zach had done more than tread on thin ice; he had stomped on it, begging for it to give way.
“Zach, let me be very clear about something,” Knox said, his hooded eyes deepening. “Becky Gerard is our problem, not her husband.”
“You’re not even going to consider the possibility?” Zach asked.
“I think your judgment here, if I may be so forward, is a bit suspect,” Nash said.
“In what way?” Zach asked.
“Becky Gerard has a certain sway with male doctors,” Nash said flatly.
Zach’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Are you implying that I’m … what, smitten with her?”
“Are you?” Singer’s tone was serious.
“No,” Zach said.
“As part of their investigation, DCF has spoken with nurses elsewhere who have had interactions with Becky. They’ve found a pattern with her. She gains favors by being, let’s just say, generous with her attention.”
Zach sent Amanda a look of pure disgust. “You really think that little of me?”
“You may not even be aware,” Nash offered.
Singer rolled back his broad shoulders. “What I think,” he said, “is that we’ve got a real shit storm on our hands, Zach, and it’s partly your fault. You’ve filled Becky’s head with this idea that Meghan has mito.”
“Excuse me, Knox,” Zach said, his voice a few ticks more than he had intended. “But I didn’t fill anybody’s head with anything. I’m using differential diagnosis to come to a conclusion, and I’ve yet to rule out mito as a possible cause of Meghan Gerard’s symptoms.”
“Either way,” Knox said dismissively, “we’ve got ourselves a major distraction, and you’re doing nothing to ameliorate the problem. Now, you can either make a concerted effort to get Becky Gerard to back off her crusade and let the courts do their job, or you can pull your résumé together, because you won’t be working here for long.”
Singer stood and left the room. With that, the meeting was adjourned.
CHAPTER 38
BECKY
It was just after ten in the morning when Becky entered the busy lobby of the Edward W. Brooke Courthouse in Downtown Boston. After passing through security, Becky took the elevator to the fourth floor, where she paced the gleaming granite-covered hallway outside the judge’s chambers, waiting for Kelly London to arrive. Becky grew more anxious as the minutes passed.
All of the courtrooms were booked for other cases, but Judge Trainer, aware of the urgency, had made special arrangements to hold this evidentiary hearing in her private chambers. Few judges conducted lobby conferences these days—the legal term for a type of sidebar conference typically done in open court with the involved parties only. The private nature of a lobby conference, Kelly had explained to Becky, is what made it possible to conduct the hearing outside a courtroom. That was all well and good, but Kelly was running late, and the door to the judge’s chambers would open at any moment. Becky was not prepared to make h
er case for the biopsy without Kelly’s help.
Andrea Leers had recused herself from these proceedings due to a conflict of interest. She represented the unit of Becky and Carl, not Becky’s interests alone. Becky had given some consideration to hiring an attorney but saw no reason. She had the ultimate weapon on her side: Kelly London, the person Judge Trainer herself had appointed to head up the court investigation.
The elevator chimed and out stepped Carl, dressed to impress in a tailored gray Armani suit. It was the first time in two days Becky had seen her husband, and the unsparingly harsh look he sent her way erased any lingering doubts about her decision to leave him.
Instead of withering under his stare, her resolve was strengthened by Carl’s overt hostility. Even so, it was difficult for Becky to reconcile the man she had once loved with the determined adversary he had become.
How have we come to this? Becky asked herself. She thought they’d weathered the harshest storm possible with Sammy. If they could survive that, she’d believed, nothing could tear them apart.
She’d been wrong.
Carl had exited the elevator alongside a petite woman with auburn hair and a fine-featured, doll-like face. She, too, was dressed sharply, in a one-button seamed jacket and matching navy-colored slacks. Becky quietly took in her oversize black leather briefcase as well as her too-big-to-be-missed diamond ring. With another glance, she saw that Carl no longer wore his ring. As he came toward her, Becky twisted off the rings on her finger, managing to slip them into her purse without his noticing.
“How are you?” he asked. The flat tone of his voice suggested he did not care how she answered.
“I’m fine,” Becky said. “You?”
“We don’t have to go through with this,” Carl said. “You need help, Becky. Professional help.”
Becky peered over Carl’s shoulder, grateful to see Kelly step out of the elevator. “Not a chance,” she said.
“Is it Zach?” Carl asked. “Is that why you left me? For him?”
It took great restraint for Becky not to roll her eyes like a teenager. “It’s not about you, Carl. And it’s certainly not about another man. It’s about Meghan, and your lack of faith in your daughter and in me.”
Kelly came over to Becky and Carl, appearing unsettled.
“Is everything all right?” Becky asked nervously. “I was worried you weren’t going to show.”
“Becky—” Kelly began, but Carl interrupted her.
“Tell the judge you’ve changed your mind, Becky,” Carl said. “Tell her we talked it over and agreed we don’t need a second biopsy.”
“No chance,” Becky repeated, turning to Kelly for solidarity, but she did not receive a reassuring glance in return.
The door to Judge Trainer’s office opened at 10:30 on the button. The judge, wearing a white blouse and slacks but no robe, poked her thin, weathered face into the hallway.
“I’m glad you’re all here,” Judge Trainer said. “Please come in; we’ll get started right away.”
Judge Trainer’s sizable office was warm and inviting. Towering bookshelves filled with legal tomes took up a good portion of the available wall space. The surface of the judge’s massive oak desk was kept as neat as a soldier’s bunk. Light poured in from a pair of south-facing windows, which explained the faded colors on the ornate oriental rug in front of Judge Trainer’s desk.
Four chairs had been set up in front of the desk, awaiting the meeting’s occupants. A trial court officer, imposing in his uniform (black slacks topped with a white shirt and a black tie), stood emotionlessly near the door, looking ready to pounce if these proceedings got out of hand. Nearby stood a small table where a court reporter and court clerk had set up temporary shop, prepared to handle the administrative duties of the hearing and document every statement as part of the official record.
As everyone else took their respective seats, Judge Trainer settled her slender frame into the plush leather chair that bore the imprint of her body. Appropriately enough, Carl and Becky bookended the two women who would be arguing different sides of the biopsy issue. Everyone was sworn in so that anything said would, at least in legal terms, be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
Judge Trainer slipped on her wire-rimmed glasses to glance at the brief laid out on the desk before her. “Good morning, everyone,” she said in a crisp, officious tone. “I’ve read through the brief Ms. London sent over. I also have a written statement from Jill Mendoza, Meghan’s guardian ad litem, who apologized for not being able to attend this hearing in person. I understand the mother would like me to authorize a second biopsy for Meghan after the previous test was tainted due to a lab error, and the father is opposed. Is that correct?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Kelly said.
“And is it true that Meghan’s psychiatrist, Dr. Peter Levine, died suddenly from still-undetermined causes?”
“That’s true,” Kelly said. “The autopsy is inconclusive at this time.”
Judge Trainer sent Becky a leering look clouded with suspicion. “Very well,” she said solemnly. “Let’s talk.” Judge Trainer leaned forward, elbows resting on her desk. Her open expression, her whole demeanor, boosted Becky’s confidence.
But something about Kelly still seemed off.
The opposing attorney spoke up. “Judge Trainer, we’ve met before. I’m attorney Erin Haze from Coleman and Wells, attorneys-at-law. I’ve recently been retained by the Department of Children and Families to represent their interests in this matter.”
“Yes, Ms. Haze, I do remember you.”
“Mr. Gerard was present when Meghan had the biopsy done, and saw for himself how truly distressing the procedure was for her, both physically and emotionally. It should be noted that the Department of Children and Families, along with several prominent doctors at White Memorial, are against the procedure and believe the mother to be engaged in medical child abuse in the form of Munchausen syndrome by proxy.
“Since Meghan is not currently receiving treatment for mitochondrial disease because of a belief that a psychosomatic disorder—a psychiatric condition—is the cause of her symptoms, there is no reason to subject her to the emotional trauma of further testing. Furthermore, a positive test result from the muscle biopsy will not, at this time, change the current course of treatment because there simply is no gold-standard test for diagnosing mitochondrial disease. Much of that diagnosis comes from clinical observation, and the diagnosing physician, Dr. Zach Fisher, is compromised due to confirmation bias resulting from his tragic connection to the disease, which has led to him overdiagnosing this condition in other patients. All of this was brought up in court already.
“I have letters from Dr. Nash and Ms. Annabel Hope from DCF substantiating their positions. They’ll be happy to come to court and testify under oath if that’s what’s required.”
Ms. Haze unclasped her brief to produce the letters from a file folder and handed copies to the judge, who read them in silence.
“Well, Ms. London?” Trainer asked as she set the letters on her desk. “You’re the court investigator on this case. Have you had a chance to delve into this issue?”
“I have, Your Honor,” Kelly said.
“And?”
Becky’s thoughts flickered. She prayed Kelly’s support would be enough to sway Judge Trainer’s opinion over that of Nash and DCF.
“On this issue, I agree with the Department of Children and Families,” Kelly said. “A second biopsy is unnecessary and potentially damaging to Meghan’s mental health.”
Becky’s jaw dropped. “What?” she cried out, staring dumbfounded at Kelly.
“Very well, then. Since Meghan’s in DCF’s care, I don’t believe that there is anything the court needs to do. Thank you for your time.”
“No,” Becky said, rising to her feet. “That’s not what we discussed. That’s not what we agreed to.”
Kelly London rose quickly and headed for the door before Becky could stop her.
“Is everything all right, Ms. Gerard?” Judge Trainer asked. “You’ve gone pale.”
Becky did feel faint, rattled and torn apart.
“No, no, it’s not all right,” Becky blurted out, repeating the only thing she could think: “This isn’t what we agreed to.”
“What who agreed to?” Judge Trainer asked, confused.
Becky gave a moment’s thought to chasing after Kelly, but a voice in her head told her it would be wasted effort. The same voice also told her who was behind Kelly’s stunning turnabout.
Becky stormed over to Carl, her eyes ablaze. “How much, you son of a bitch?” she snarled.
Judge Trainer came out from behind her desk. “Mrs. Gerard, you must restrain yourself.” As if on cue, the court officer took one threatening step forward. “Now, I understand this is emotional, but please refrain from any outbursts while in my personal chambers.”
Becky centered herself. She eyed Carl like a prizefighter intimidating an opponent. “How much did you pay her?” she asked in a far softer tone.
“Becky, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Carl said.
But he knew. She could see it in his eyes. She’d accused him of other things in the past, which he’d denied with all his heart. She didn’t believe him then either.
“How could you?” Becky asked him while Erin Haze looked on with alarm. “How could you do that to your own daughter?”
“Becky … I don’t—”
“Spare me,” Becky said with disgust. She turned quickly and fled the room. It was obvious what she had to do now. It was not her fault. She had to see Meghan. They had much to plan.
They’d left her no choice.
CHAPTER 39
MEGHAN