“Stop asking! They love me.”
“I’m sure they do,” Kate acceded.
“They’re just messed up.” The girl’s voice grew high and tight. “They love me.”
“Does your father—”
“My stepfather,” Maddie snapped.
“Oh. He’s your stepfather?”
Maddie nodded, her gaze fixed on the view beyond the window.
“I didn’t realize…”
“My real father’s dead.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
Kate frowned. “I’m going to ask your parents to come visit you today.”
“Good luck with that.”
Another strange response.
“Why do you say that?” When Maddie didn’t answer, Kate said, “I haven’t been able to reach them at home. Is there another number where they can be contacted?”
Maddie shook her head wildly. “Mommy doesn’t like cell phones. She says the government could be listening in.”
“Listening in?”
“I’m tired of talking.”
“Okay. Well, hopefully they’ll come visit you today.”
Kate knew that her questions were becoming increasingly intrusive, and it was obvious that Maddie needed some space. She walked out of the room and stood in the hallway, while keeping one eye on her troubled patient through the open doorway. She called the Wards at home again. This time their machine picked up and Kate left a brief message.
She had only looked away for a second, but when she glanced back into the room, Maddie was banging her fists on the window, attempting to break the glass.
Kate hurried back in and grasped Maddie by the arms. “Shh, it’s okay.” This was a setback. Clearly Maddie could no longer be left alone. Not even for an instant.
15
KATE WENT UPSTAIRS TO the Adult Psychiatric Intensive Care Unit to talk to James. He was finishing off a group therapy session, sitting in a circle with twelve patients in the day room. James’s most difficult charge, Agatha, stood in the center of the group, making the thin, depleted wail of a cat in heat. Her arms shimmied in a sort of dance. She tried to explain herself, but only seemed capable of producing streaky, mascara-laced tears.
Kate hung back and waited. Rumpled, out-of-date magazines were strewn around the lounge. Every inch of upholstery was coffee-stained, and the ugly wallpaper looked like a Rorschach test.
A few minutes later, group was over, the participants gazing at one another with cloudy, abnormal eyes before shuffling away. James came over to Kate and said, “I have a mega-headache. Let’s go.”
They went downstairs to the cafeteria, which smelled of fried onion rings and warmed-over meatloaf. Attending physicians, residents, visiting scholars and other hospital staff rotated through, loading up their trays with additive-laden pre-packaged food, while smokers got their fix out on the terrace.
James popped a couple of Excedrins and swiped two trays for them. He handed Kate one and ordered a cheeseburger, fries and an iced tea. She got a cup of coffee and a sorry-looking slice of apple pie, and they found a table in back next to the recycling bins. A pungent smell wafted toward them, turning her stomach. She watched James bite into his cheeseburger and sop up the grease with a bunch of napkins, undeterred by the funky odor.
“How’s it going with your new patient?” James asked.
“I’m very concerned about her environment. Maddie gave me conflicting stories, but I’m leaning toward a potentially abusive stepfather, which would explain her mother’s demeanor the other day. I’ve been trying to reach her—Nelly, I mean—but she’s not returning my phone calls. She doesn’t have a cell phone, apparently, so I’m thinking of driving up there this afternoon. Get to the bottom of things.”
“Right, like why she picked you, of all people, to treat her child.”
“And why she didn’t mention the fact we went to school together. Or who her damn uncle is.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” James said. “She might be angling to get your support for a petition to the governor to delay the execution next week.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“The timing is suspicious.”
Kate nodded resignedly. “Want my pie? I’m not hungry.”
James shook his head but took it anyway. He picked up his fork and took a bite. “Don’t let her pressure you, okay? She might try to suck you into the whole anti-death-penalty fracas. If she brings it up, just remember, you don’t have to sit there and take it. You can walk away with a clean conscience. Don’t let her guilt-trip you.”
“I won’t.”
“That’s my baby.” His arduous morning was etched into his face. “Want me to go with you?” he offered.
“Nah. Then she’d really clam up.”
“You sure?”
“She’s a little high-strung. I’d better go by myself.” Kate reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “How’s your headache? Are you okay?”
“If by ‘okay’ you mean beaten to a pulp by my so-called profession, then sure.”
She rested her hand on his forehead. His skin was clammy and cool, belying the feverish spots on his cheeks. “Deep breaths. In and out.”
He laughed. “Shut up.”
“Oh come on. Where’s the confident psychiatrist I used to know?”
He waved his hand unenthusiastically. “Yo. Right here.”
“Yeah, I haven’t seen him around lately.”
“He’s underneath all this collaborative intensive short-term dynamic therapy.”
They gazed at one another.
“Seriously. Are you okay?”
He cracked a defiant smile. “Oh, I have fleeting moments of lucidity.”
“Agatha?”
“Feels like I’m living inside that movie, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? She’s definitely plotting my destruction. Maybe I should just inject myself with Haldol and call it a day.”
“Want me to beat her up for you?”
“Nah.” He sipped his iced tea. “I think that’s illegal.”
She touched his arm.
“What gets me is she’s really smart and observant,” he said. “It’s such a tragedy. She could’ve been a valuable member of society, if it weren’t for her borderline personality disorder… I hate to admit it, but most of these people who come to us for help, Kate… they’re lifers. You release them and hope for the best, but you know they’ll be back.”
“End of April,” she promised. “Cancun. Or the Caymans.”
His eyes lit up. “Yeah?”
“Unless you’d rather go to Disneyland?”
“No, I’m good.” He beamed and dug into his apple pie.
At that moment, Jerry Meinhard walked over to their table and said, “Hello, ladies and germs. What’s up?”
Kate groaned internally. Jerry was the psychiatry department clown, and certainly not a doctor she would have trusted with her mental health.
“Jerry,” James said drearily.
“Nothing much,” Kate muttered.
“I got a new one for you. Psychotics build sandcastles, and their shrinks collect the mortgage.” Jerry looked at them expectantly. “Huh? Get it?” He laughed out loud. “I thought it was funny.”
Kate gave him a dour look.
“Ouch, J-Man. Your girlfriend doesn’t like me.”
“Leave us alone, Jerry. We’re having an adult conversation here.”
“Ooh, so sensitive. Okay, I’ll abscond to the kiddie table,” he said and left.
“Hey,” James whispered. “Maybe he put those peanuts in your office?”
“Sheesh,” Kate said. “Of course. Jerry the Joker.”
“Want me to beat him up for you?”
“Nah. I have a feeling it would only encourage him.”
“True. Best to ignore the putz.”
She leaned forward and cocked an eyebrow. “I’ll get him back.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. But he’ll never see it coming.”
There was that beautiful crooked-ass grin of his. “I like the way you think, Dr. Wolfe.”
16