“Sure,” I said.
“Did you hear that, honey?” Abby asked. “They need you to go to the hospital for some tests.”
Caitlin didn’t look at us. I wasn’t sure she’d heard, but then she said, “What if I don’t want to go?”
“They just want to make sure you’re not hurt,” I said.
“Do I look hurt?”
“Well . . .” I could tell Abby was scrambling. She looked at Ryan. “Maybe she doesn’t have to go right now.”
Ryan shook his head. “She has to go,” he said. “It’s standard procedure in these cases. It won’t take long.”
I looked at Caitlin, met her eye. “They might find evidence.” “Evidence?” she asked. Her voice didn’t rise. She sounded truly puzzled. “Evidence? What evidence?” She turned and looked at all three of us. “I don’t understand what you all are talking about.”
Ryan stepped forward. “Like your dad said, we need to make sure you’re not hurt.”
“And then I can leave?”
I heard it. Leave. Not go home. Leave.
“One step at a time,” Ryan said, and placed his hand on Caitlin’s arm.
She looked down at it as though it were a giant fly. But she didn’t resist. Abby stood up and took the coffee mug from her, and the four of us left for the hospital.
Chapter Twenty-two
Abby and I waited together in a small family area while they took Caitlin back for a series of tests. Ryan paused and told us what the tests would entail: a general physical and psychological exam, routine blood work, and, of course, tests for rape, pregnancy, the DNA of the perpetrator, as well as STDs.
After ten minutes of Abby and me not speaking to each other, and right when I was considering picking up a magazine to distract myself, Abby spoke.
“We should be back there with her,” she said. “She’s never even been to the gynecologist before. One of us should be back there.”
“You didn’t want to go back with her before, at the police station.”
“Don’t be bitter, Tom. This is hard for both of us.”
“Besides, we don’t know if she’s never been to a gynecologist, do we? We don’t know what she’s been doing.”
“I doubt she’s been to the gynecologist.” Abby shuddered a little. “What did she tell you before I got back there, Tom? What did she say?”
“She didn’t say anything really.” I looked around at the sterile walls, the cold tile. “She did ask for you.”
“She did? What did you tell her?”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I covered for you. I told her you were with the police.”
“Did you tell her anything else about us? Our situation?”
I shook my head. “She cursed like a truck driver, though.”
“She did?”
“And she wouldn’t call me Dad.”
After a long pause, Abby said, “Tom? What are we going to tell Caitlin about us? They’re probably going to let us take her home today. My room at the church is small, but Chris wouldn’t mind if she stayed there with me.”
“No,” I said. “No and no.” I made a quick, cutting gesture with my right hand. “You left. I stayed in our home. That’s Caitlin’s home, too. That’s where her room is. She’s not going to live with Pastor Chris and his traveling sideshow.”
“What are we going to do then, Tom? Pretend?”
“You can tell her you left,” I said. “That’s fair. Hell, Abby, you didn’t even believe she was still alive. You let her go. You gave up. Why don’t you tell her that while you’re at it?”
For a long while, we were quiet. I heard voices in the hallway, the rumbling of something on wheels.
“If you want me to tell her the truth, I will.” Her voice was calm, almost detached. “I can accept responsibility for this.”
“Why didn’t you want to go back and see her earlier? Ryan practically held me back. He grabbed me and put me in a chair. That’s our daughter, and she came back to us after four years. Why wouldn’t you want to see her?”
“Why are you so focused on me and my reactions?”