“Why not?”
“Because if you repress them, they’ll only grow stronger,” Kate explained. “Your feelings are an important part of you, and it’s good to express them. Eventually, your feelings—good or bad—are going to help.”
“But I thought you said it hurts?”
“Hurts and helps.”
Maddie burrowed deeper into her blankets. “My uncle’s going to die soon. I watched it on TV in the day room. The other kids were wondering… which would be quicker, lethal injection or the electric chair?”
“Did you ever meet him?” Kate asked.
“A few times. In prison. Mommy took me. She said I have his laugh. She doesn’t like it when I laugh. So I try not to.”
It suddenly dawned on Kate: the widow’s peak; the pale freckled skin; the sea-green eyes. When Henry Blackwood wasn’t wearing one of his baseball caps or that tattered black fedora, his hair was blond and military-short, with a distinctive widow’s peak. If Penny Blackwood had gotten pregnant sixteen years ago, she would’ve had a baby nine months later. And that child today would be the same age as Maddie.
26
KATE HEADED FOR THE elevators, trying to pull herself together. It was quite a shock to realize she might be treating the daughter of the man who’d murdered her sister. She needed to talk to Ira about it.
An elevator arrived as Kate pressed the call button and out stepped Elizabeth McCormack, Nikki’s mother.
“Dr. Wolfe?”
“Elizabeth,” Kate said, startled. “Can I help you?”
“I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about Nikki.” A ripe smell came from her, as if she hadn’t bathed for days. It was at odds with her expensive tailored coat, diamond earrings, and top-of-the-line knee-high leather boots. Her honey-blond hair spilled over her shoulders in greasy ribbons and her eyes were red from crying. “My mind won’t stop racing. And I keep thinking—what if? What if we’d done something different? Would she still be alive?”
Kate’s stomach seized. “Let’s go to my office where we can have some privacy.”
“My daughter came to you in a fragile state of mind,” Elizabeth said. “Those pills you prescribed—psychotropic drugs—I just found out that they can sometimes do more harm than good. Did you know that?”
“I had her on the mildest dose of anti-anxiety medication.”
“Some of her friends are telling me now that Nikki was very depressed. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You knew she was being treated for depression.” Kate tried to keep her voice calm as Elizabeth’s grew more agitated.
“No, I mean during the last couple of weeks, was she suicidal?”
“Nikki was doing very well in her therapy, but we had a long way to go.”
Elizabeth stiffened. “How can you even say that? Doing well?”
“Elizabeth, please, let’s go to my office.”
“No.” She angrily brushed her off. “I want answers. Why did she kill herself? We came home, and there she was, hanging from the ceiling. And I was standing there, looking at my daughter, and I didn’t understand. It was as if the world had tilted upside down. But you’re a doctor. You were supposed to warn us if she was suicidal,” she cried. “How could you let this happen? How could you have missed all the signs?”
“I can assure you, Elizabeth, I didn’t miss a thing.”
“Oh! That’s why my daughter is dead, right? Because you didn’t miss a thing. You did absolutely nothing wrong.”
“I’m not saying that, Elizabeth, please…”
“Stop calling me Elizabeth! Just stop.” Suddenly she pushed Kate hard with both hands. Kate lost her balance, arms twirling, and landed on the floor with a graceless thud. She sat there stunned, while Elizabeth clamped a gloved hand over her mouth and said, “Oh no.”
“It’s okay,” Kate reassured her.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me…”
A few of the hospital staff were gathered in the hallway. Somebody must’ve alerted James about the confrontation, because now he came charging toward them.
“Kate? Are you all right?” He helped her to her feet. “What happened? What’s going on?”
“I’m fine. Just a little shaken.” She looked over at Elizabeth. “This is Nikki’s mother.”
James spun to face Elizabeth McCormack. “Did you push her? Are you blaming her for this?”
“James, don’t.” Kate was mortified.
“No, this is ridiculous, Kate. They blame us when something bad happens, but they never hear the awful things their kids have to say about them.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said quickly. “She lost her daughter.”
“Nikki’s dead, and I want to know why!” Elizabeth was sobbing now.
“Kate did everything she possibly could,” James said.
“James, stop. It’s all right.”
“No, it’s not. It’s called assault.”
One of the elevators dinged open, and Elizabeth retreated into it and stared at them as the aluminum doors slid shut. James wrapped his arms protectively around Kate, and she let him hold her for a moment without resistance. She’d been struck twice in one day. That had to be a record.
He insisted on escorting her over to the nurses’ station, where he made her sit down and found an abrasion on her elbow. The nurses came over and fussed with the Band-Aids and iodine.
“I’m okay,” she told anyone who’d listen, but they all ignored her.
“Some of these people are the reason their precious offspring are here in the first place,” James muttered.
“I wish you hadn’t confronted her like that,” Kate said.
“Why not? It’s suddenly okay for her to assault you?”
“No. But have some compassion.”
“Maybe I’m all compassioned out?” he snapped.
She rested a hand on his arm. “Listen, I’m sorry about the vacation…”
“No,” he said, sounding distraught. “I’ve been such a dick about that. It’s just that we were going to make sure you were far away from it all next week.”
She nodded. For months they’d been planning what they were going to do on the night of Henry’s execution. They were supposed to be luxuriating in some upscale Sedona resort, sampling Verde Valley wines and ignoring the news.
“And on top of everything else, I just heard that Mom slipped on some ice and broke her ankle.”
“Oh no. When did this happen?”
“Half an hour ago. I have to drive to Massachusetts General and talk to her doctors. It’s a really bad break—she’s going to need surgery.”
“Give her my love. I hope she’s okay.” She hugged him. “And don’t worry about next Wednesday. We’ll spend the evening in bed and pretend we’re in Sedona. We’ll have our own wine-tasting party.”
He smiled. “It’s a date.”
“Let me know how Vanessa is, okay?”
He gave her a kiss and walked away.
27
KATE KNOCKED ON IRA’S door.
“Come in,” he said.
“Got a minute?”
“For you—anything.” He dropped his paperwork. “Have a seat.”
She closed the door behind her and muttered, “Where to begin.”
“What’s up?”
“Elizabeth McCormack just pushed me over.”
“She pushed you?”
“In front of the elevators. Ten minutes ago.”
“Are you all right?”
“Just a bruised ego.”
“Excuse me a second.” He picked up his phone and told his secretary to hold his calls. Then he said, “Okay. Sit. Talk.”
She sat down and said, “She blamed me for Nikki’s suicide.”
“So basically—your worst nightmare.”
She nodded. “It gets all those self-defeating gears grinding.”
“Right, like this is all your fault. When we both know that’s complete nonsense.”
“A lot of things feel like my fault lately,” Kate said.
“Such as?”
She rubbed her pounding temples. “It’s complicated.”
“I’ve got all day.”
“No, you don’t, but thanks anyway, Ira.”
He heaved a sigh. “Kate. What’s going on?”
“I met a man at Nikki’s funeral… a retired detective who is trying to convince me that Henry Blackwood is innocent.”
Ira frowned. “What?”
“I know. Sounds crazy, right?”
“The execution is only a few days away.”
She nodded. “Wednesday night.”
“It’s a little late to be changing your mind, don’t you think?”