Inside Out

INSIDE OUT

prologue

M O N D A Y , 10:35 A.M . AUGUST 5, 1997

DETECTIVE MITC HE LL O A TE S ,

a burly African American, w as standing

a few feet from an open doorw ay to one of those Architectural D igest-style bedroom s in a posh town house in B oston’s historic Beacon Hill. H e stepped aside to give his partner, Leo Coscarelli, a better view of the body. The two detectives had been teamed up for close to three years now. O ates, at thirty-one, w as the younger by two years, but you w ouldn’t know it to look at them. Coscarelli had the guileless face and lean, wiry body of a post­

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adolescent. Coscarelli’s boyish looks, surprisingly, had turned out to be his biggest asset as a homicide detective. M any suspects over the past seven years had m ade the m istake of thinking the lieutenant w as wet behind the ears, and therefore a pushover. W hat often happened w as, they’d let their guard down, get sloppy, and find out the hard way that it w as never sm art to judge a book by its cover. O ates had been at the crime scene for about fifteen minutes. Coscarelli had just arrived. Like his partner, Coscarelli w as sup­ posed to be off-duty that day, but given the high-profile victim, he'and O ates had been handpicked by the H om icide chief to take charge of the case. When the call came in at 10:05

a .m

.

to hightail it over to the

Slater home, Coscarelli w as still in bed. But he w asn’t sleeping. And he w asn’t alone. He w as having sex with Suzanne Holden, an ex-druggie and -prostitute he w as endeavoring to “ rehabili­ tate. ” In hindsight, he wished the call had come in a few minutes earlier. Then it could have been one of those “ saved by the bell” situations— the situation being one he definitely should not have been in in the first place. But “ saving bells” rarely went off in real life. Coscarelli peered down at the bare-chested body of the crim­ inal defense attorney— revered or reviled, depending on whether you were the defendant or the plaintiff. “ You knew him, right?” O ates muttered. “ Who in H om icide doesn’t know M atthew Slater?” Coscarelli answered, noting, with a modicum o f envy, that for a guy in his late forties, Slater w as enviably buff. N o t that all those w orkouts at the gym were going to do the poor bastard much good now — unless you counted looking pum ped in your casket.

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Coscarelli looked over his shoulder at Oates. “ So, w hat’s the story ?” “ C all came in at nine-oh-five nine-twenty

a .m

.

a .m

.

A local unit got here at

with a couple of param edics. Slater w as p ro­

nounced dead by one of the E M T boys. Coroner and CSI team are on the w ay.” “ M edia got here quick enough.” Coscarelli squatted down, took in the dead attorney’s facial bruising, including what looked to be a badly broken nose. But he doubted it w as the punch, or more likely, punches, that killed M atthew Slater. “ G otta w ait for the M E, but my m oney’s on m anual strangulation.” N o t touching the corpse, he pointed to the darker bruise m arks around the lawyer’s neck. “ W ho found him ?” “Joyce H alber . . . Slater’s secretary. She got worried because the boss didn’t show up at the office for an im portant breakfast meeting scheduled for eight

a .m

.

and she couldn’t reach him on

his cell phone. So she drove over. G ot here at approxim ately eight forty-five

a .m

.

When he didn’t answer her rings or knocks, she

let herself in. Oh— she had a key to the house. Said Slater had given it to her when she first started working for him three years ago. Anyway, like I said . . . she came over here, unlocked the door— ” “ She said it w as locked?” Coscarelli interrupted. O ates flipped open a notebook and retrieved a handwritten report from the cop w ho’d arrived on the scene first. “ Y ep .” O ates continued, referring to the report. “ She looked dow n­ stairs first, then figured he m ust have overslept— she said that he took sleeping pills on occasion. So she went upstairs and found him right where he is now. She swears she didn’t touch him or anything else in the roo m .”

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Coscarelli nodded. “ I’d say by the looks o f our corpse and the smell, our killer struck a good two, three days ago. N obody m issed Slater before this m orning?” O ates shrugged. “ It w as the weekend. According to w hat the secretary told the uniform , the Slaters have a place out on M ar­ tha’s Vineyard. The wife spends the summer there, and Slater flies out m ost weekends. H alber assum ed he w as there. Ju st be­ fore I talked to the secretary on the phone, I heard from the sheriff on the Vineyard. H e’d just come back from informing the w ife.” “ H o w ’d he get w ord so quickly?” ' ' “ H alb er.” “ Efficient secretary.” Coscarelli paused briefly. “ So, how ’d the wife take it?” “ Sheriff said she didn’t break down or nothing. H is interpre­ tation, she w as probably in shock.” O ates cocked a thick eye­ brow. “ Could be shock, I guess. Anyway, she told the sheriff her husband phoned her Friday afternoon saying he w as staying in the city to w ork on a brief. She didn’t try reaching him and w asn ’t surprised that he never contacted her over the weekend. It’s supposedly the w ay he is when he’s deep into a case.” Coscarelli rose to his feet. “ Secretary tell you what case he w as working o n ?” O ates gave his partner a crafty smile. “ According to H alber, our boy w as in between cases at the m om ent.”

THURSDAY, 8:33 P.M . NOVEMBER 24

“ Y ou ready for her, Lieutenant?” Coscarelli lifted his eyes from the typed statement to the dark­

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skinned, heavyset cop standing at the door. He caught the uni­ form ’s slight inflection on the “ her,” but he let it pass. He might as well get used to it. Chances were high this w as going to be the hottest copy since O .J., a shoo-in for Court T V if it went to trial. Exploitation in the name o f edification. A surefire spectator sport. And a profitable one. For everyone but the defendant. “ We got her fingerprinted and booked. Her one call w as to her law yer.” The cop smiled slyly. “ Y ou ’d never guess, to look at her. Ju st thought I’d let you kn ow .” Coscarelli glared at the uniform, who m otioned behind him with his hand, then stepped aside. Lynn Ingram appeared in his doorw ay as Coscarelli w as slip­ ping her statement into the murder book. H e gave an involuntary start when he saw her. H ector Rodriquez w as right. N o way he’d have guessed. And it w asn’t even that she w as all dolled up in some ultrafeminine dress, or sported high-heeled shoes, big hair, or went over the top on the makeup. Anything but. T o the naked eye, Coscarelli could discern no cosm etics save for a touch of gloss that accentuated full, sensual lips and a whisper of blush accentuating the high cheekbones o f a fashion model. If she’d undergone rhinoplasty, her plastic surgeon had to have been topcaliber because her straight, slightly elongated nose perfectly suited her face. That face w as both striking, and unnervingly delicate, fram ed by ash-blonde hair that fell softly to her shoul­ ders, straight, silky, tastefully styled. Even her outfit w as decid­ edly understated, expensively tailored. Slim black suede jeans and an off-white cashmere blazer worn open over a teal-blue, fitted T-shirt that w as a pretty good match to her eyes. There w as no getting around it. The tall, slender but nicely endowed twenty-eight-year-old certainly did look the epitome of femininity. With the exception of her hands. Even with the ex­

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pertly m anicured nails and the slender, shapely fingers, there w as no question that Lynn Ingram ’s hands were large. Still, plenty of tall women had large hands. And Coscarelli judged Ingram ’s height to be close to six feet. Coscarelli couldn’t help wondering w hat it w ould have been like if he’d met Lynn Ingram under norm al circumstances. W ould he ever have surm ised the truth? N o, he w as sure he w ouldn’t have— as sure as he w as that he w ould have m ost definitely found himself attracted to her. But then, it w ouldn’t be the first time he’d been attracted to an “ inappropriate” wom an. Ingram ’s presr ence.reminded him o f the morning he’d been called to the Slater murder scene. A m orning when he’d let his attraction to another inappropriate w om an— namely a young and beautiful ex-drug addict/prostitute— get seriously out o f hand. Since then he’d been w orking hard to get his errant libido back in check. Lynn Ingram w asn’t helping his progress.

,

He caught a faint smile on Ingram ’s face, like she had a good idea of his reaction to her. That shook him a little. She shook him. M ore than a little. Fighting the urge to clear his throat, he said, “ Y ou don’t have to say anything, or even be in here, until your lawyer arrives.” “ Y ou mean I can w ait in a cell. N o than ks.” There w as a hint o f huskiness in her tone, but it w as more sexy than it w as m as­ culine. He w as im pressed that she seemed not to be m aking an attem pt to artificially raise the pitch of her voice. “ I’m going to turn on a tape recorder.” She nodded. H e hit the

reco rd

button on the com pact machine on his

desk, his eyes fixed on her face as he stated for the record, “ This is Lieutenant Leo Coscarelli with Lynn Ingram. The date is Thurs­

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day, N ovem ber twenty-fourth. The time is— ” He took a quick glance at his watch. “ Eight thirty-eight

p .m

.”

“ D o I sit dow n ?” she asked. He gestured to a straight-backed wooden chair on the other side of his desk. She gave his nondescript cubicle of an office a quick glance, then considered him for a few moments before crossing to the chair. W as she checking him out as a cop, thinking that he looked w ay too young for H om icide? O r w as she merely checking him out as a man? O r both? N o way to read this one. But he couldn’t pull his eyes off her. She crossed the small space, moving with a dancer’s grace, lowering her long, slender body into the proffered chair. “ I imagine you thought I’d look m ore like a drag queen.” Coscarelli w asn’t walking into that one. “ Look, M s. Ingram, I’m sure your lawyer advised you not to say anything until— ” “ D r. Ingram .” Coscarelli’s eyebrows shot up. H e hadn’t picked up that tidbit in her statement. “ M edical d o cto r?” “ We don ’t all earn our keep as drag queens, Detective. I’m a clinical psychologist with a specialty in pain management. I work with Dr. H arrison Bell, an anesthesiologist, at the Boston H arbor Community Pain Clinic. I’ve been there since I got my Ph.D. from Boston University two years ago. ” She crossed one long leg over the other, looking surprisingly contained for someone w ho’d just w alked in off the street and voluntarily confessed to a murder she’d committed over three months ago. M aybe she w as putting it on. Passing, not only as a wom an, but as one who w as re­ m arkably self-possessed given the situation. Coscarelli had to ad ­ mit that Ingram ’s talent for “ p assin g” w as highly successful, if he was any judge. Then again, if what she said in her statement

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w as true, Lynn Ingram had gone a m ajor step past merely passing. “ T h at’s how I met M att,” she went on evenly. Coscarelli w as certain that Ingram w as going against the direct advice of her attorney. Still, that w as her choice, the p roo f that he had in no way coerced her recorded on tape. “ H e had chronic joint pain in his right knee due to an old college soccer injury. He started coming in for treatment in M ay after being referred to the clinic by one o f his law partners— ” “ And that partner w ould b e?” “ A aron H irsh.” “ H e’s the attorney you indicated in your statement would be representing you.” “ T h at’s right, Detective. I phoned him a short while ago. Needless to say, he w as m ost unhappy that I’d already given a statem ent.” She shrugged. Even this gesture had a distinctly nat­ ural feminine quality. “ A aron ’s flying in from La G uardia A ir­ port. He keeps an apartm ent in M anhattan because his firm also has offices there. Actually, he and M att shared the apartment. They were friends as well as law partners.” “ And yet you chose H irsh ?” “ H e’s the best. And he’s my friend as w ell.” Coscarelli gave her a closer look. She smiled, revealing even, pearl-white teeth. “Ju st a friend, Detective.” “ Why did you m ake a statement before Hirsh got here?” C os­ carelli asked. “ T o be honest, I didn’t know I w as going to do it. I was having dinner with a friend just down the street. Putting it lightly, I haven’t had much of an appetite for the past three months, and my friend expressed concern. I told him it w as nothing. But, quite obviously, that w as a lie. I’ve been in a state of torment since

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that awful night. I selected the restaurant, by the way. I’m sure Freud would m ake something o f the fact that it’s one block aw ay from police headquarters. And the wise doctor would be right. I even parked my car directly across the street from this building. I left the restaurant, started for my car and . . . found myself walking in here instead. I shouldn’t have acted so precipitously. M eaning I should have waited and come in with Aaron. But the dam age is already done. I m ade a statement. I stand by that state­ ment. When Aaron gets here, that will still be my statem ent.” “ Why turn yourself in n ow ?” H er gaze fixed on his. “ Conscience.” He saw a sadness brim up in her deep-blue eyes, but he didn’t trust it. Ingram drew her eyes aw ay, focusing on the poor excuse for a Christm as cactus sitting on top o f his file cabinet. The plant hadn’t bloom ed this past Christm as, or the two before that. C o s­ carelli w asn ’t sure why he kept it around. M aybe he w as waiting for a miracle. “ On the M onday after . . . it happened, I w as scheduled for surgery. I flew up to M ontreal Sunday night, and I w as at the hospital for ten days. Then I stayed at a nearby hotel a couple more weeks for outpatient checkups and to . . . get physically and psychologically settled. ” “ Slater’s death m ust have com plicated that.” She winced. “ I didn’t know M att w as dead. M y actions that evening were a matter of self-defense, pure and sim ple.” Coscarelli found it interesting that Ingram referred to her le­ thal assault on Slater as “ action s.” As for the “ pure and sim­ ple” — he w as pretty sure the psychologist w as sm art enough to know that when it came to the murder of a Brahmin lawyer, there w asn ’t one single aspect of this crime that was either pure or simple.

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“ M att w as still alive when I ran out of the house. At least, I thought he w as.” “ Y o u ’re a doctor. Y ou didn’t check?” “ I’m not a medical doctor. And I w as frightened. I ran. I’m not proud o f myself. But as I said, I didn’t know M att had . . . died. There w as nothing in the news that whole weekend before I flew to M ontreal, and if it m ade news up in C anada at some point later on, I never saw or heard about it while I w as in the hospital or afterw ard— while I w as recuperating up there. I as­ sumed M att w as okay. I knew he w asn ’t about to press charges fo r my attack on him. If anything, I w as sure he w as afraid I would be the one pressing charges against him. H e beat me up quite severely. Y ou can confirm that with Dr. Claude Brunaud.” “ And Brunaud w ould be— ?” “ The Canadian plastic surgeon who did my vaginoplasty.” Her eyes held his. Coscarelli had all he could do to keep himself from physically squirming, but he sure as hell w as squirming on the inside. In­ gram smiled, and he w as certain it w as at his expense. But the smile wilted quickly. “ That recuperative period— it should have been the happiest time o f my life. I w as finally whole. Right. Truly me. Y ou can’t know how long I’d dreamed, prayed— ” The smile died altogether. “ But I w as never more depressed. Oh, my shrink at the hospital said depression w asn’t uncommon in my situation. He likened it to a new mother’s postpartum blues. But that w asn’t it. Y ou see, I’d envisioned a life with M att. A norm al, happy, loving, lasting relationship. I thought he’d be there for m e.” “ Yeah, hard to envision living happily ever after with a dead m an .”

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If he expected to shake her up, rile her, he w asn ’t having any luck. Ingram ’s expression w as, if anything, sadder. “ I didn’t m ur­ der M att. He attacked me. We struggled. I had no choice but to protect myself. Save myself. It w as self-defense.” Coscarelli m ade no response, noting that as the silence lasted, Ingram shifted slightly in her seat. And, as he’d anticipated— or at least hoped— started talking again, a bit faster this time. A hint o f agitation. So, she w asn’t as cool and com posed as she’d tried to m ake him believe. “ The truth w as too much for M att. H e told me very bluntly that he’d rather see me dead than risk its coming out. He said he w ould not be a national laughingstock. Interesting, don’t you think, Lieutenant Coscarelli, that he w asn’t particularly con­ cerned about being seen as a man cheating on his w ife?— just about being seen as a deviant. I truly believed M att would have killed me if I hadn’t . . . stopped him. He . . . attacked me. V i­ ciously. As if . . . I w ould ever tell anyone.” She shook her head. “ M att couldn’t understand that I w as devastated.” “ H ow ’s th at?” “ I loved him .” H er lips quivered slightly, and, for a moment or two, Coscarelli thought her well-constructed facade w as going to crack. But then she pulled herself together with a resolute sigh. “ It’s all in my statement, Detective. I don’t know why I’m re­ hashing it. I’ll only have to do it all again when Aaron gets here. ” Coscarelli tipped his chair back. “ W hat should we talk about while w e’re w aiting?” She waited several beats. “ D on ’t tell me you aren’t curious.” Her eyes locked with his. “ O r do you know other postoperative M -to-Fs?” “ M -to-Fs?” But then he got it. “ M ale-to-fem ale.” “ We don’t all look like this. I’m one o f the lucky ones.

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Growing up, I w as often taken for a girl. Especially before I shot up to nearly six feet when I w as about sixteen. I w as blessed— or cursed, if you were to ask my father— with a pretty face. I’ve needed only the m ost minor facial reconstructive surgery and, naturally, some electrolysis. Even there, it w asn’t a long or elab­ orate process, as I’m very fair. I couldn’t have grown more than the m ost scraggly of beards even if I’d w anted to. And that was before I began horm one treatment. I’m the envy o f m ost o f my transsexual friends.” “ And Slater didn’t know or guess before that night?” “W ould you have guessed, D etective?” Ingram eyed him de­ fiantly. “ D id you ever see the film The Crying G am e? Well, that Friday night w as The Crying G am e R ed u x.” There was a false ring of flippancy in her voice. “ In the movie, the hero falls in lust with this exquisite w om an at a bar, she takes him back to her apartm ent for a night o f sexual bliss, and he freaks when he discovers she’s got one little added appendage he hadn’t counted on. Even so, he ultimately ends up falling in love with her.” “ In your case life didn’t imitate art, I assum e.” “ M att w as horrified. Then he got angry. Very angry.” “ Y ou might have warned him beforehand.” She gave him a pained look. “ Y ou can’t imagine the number of times I’ve cursed m yself for being so . . . blind. So . . . trusting. So damn stupid.” Coscarelli tried to imagine himself in Slater’s place. H ow would he have reacted? H e’d have been good and shaken, cer­ tainly. But w ould he have struck out at her? At him ? Easy to say he’d have kept his cool. Ingram leaned forw ard in her seat. “ I don’t expect you to understand this, Lieutenant, but in my heart and soul, in the very fiber o f my being, I w as a w om an before the operation. I’ve al­

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ways been a w om an locked in the wrong body. I fell in love with M att alm ost from our first encounter, but I took it very slow. It w asn’t until I truly believed he w as feeling something deeper than just lust for me, that I risked it. I deluded myself into believing he w ould understand. N o t that he w ouldn’t be taken aback at first, but that he could get beyond it.” “ Y ou could have waited until after the surgery. Aren’t I right in thinking he w ouldn’t have even know n?” A faint flush colored Lynn Ingram ’s cheeks. “ Thanks to Dr. Brunaud, when I am fully healed, I will have perfect female gen­ italia. Indistinguishable from that of a genetic female. The good doctor even assures me that I should, in time, be able to achieve orgasm .” Her tone w as purely clinical. “ Y ou still didn’t answer my question.” Coscarelli didn’t get easily distracted. “ I wanted M att to know ,” she said, a touch o f fire in her voice now. “ I’d spent too much of my life living— no, suffering— a lie. I thought I owed it to M att for him to know the truth. T o see the truth. I realized, too late, it w as crazy, but at the time I thought it would help him be more accepting in the end. I thought he might even . . . come up to C an ada with me. H old my hand, so to speak. I knew M att w as married, but he told me he w as going to leave his wife. He swore his m arriage had gone sour long before we met. That I w asn’t responsible for breaking them up. H e told me . . . he loved me. H e told me he believed we had a future. I believed him .” H er lips quivered in earnest now, tears finally arriving. “ I w as a fo o l.”

one I was the victim, not Matt. He attacked me. I was only defending myself. Ly n n I n g r a m (e x c e r p t

f r o m t r ia l t r a n s c r ip t )

H O R IZO N HOUSE PRERELEASE CENTER— INTAKE MEETING BOSTON M O N D A Y , SEPTEMBER 10 , 2001

" I D O N ' T LIKE

it. Ingram w as trouble behind the wall and she’s

gonna be even m ore trouble here.” G ordon Hutchins, the head CO , a stocky man fighting an ever-growing paunch, gray hair shorn military-short, caught the superintendent’s disapproving expression. She watched him pull back, not because he was afraid of her, but because he knew that open com bat just m ade her more obstinate. At thirty-two, N atalie Price might be twenty-

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seven years younger than Hutch, and he might have a good thirty years on her in the system, but Price w as from the new school— which included all the right credentials, even a Ph.D. in criminal justice— and as superintendent at H orizon H ouse, she w as the one who got to m ake the final decision. “ Ingram didn’t cause the trouble, H utch,” Price said suc­ cinctly, to bring the m essage home. “ And she meets all o f the center’s qualifications. So, let’s just move on .” Jack Dwyer, Price’s dark-haired, dark-eyed deputy superinten­ dent, who m ost closely resembled a slightly over-the-hill street tough* w asn’t ready to “ just move on .” Like Hutch, he w as both older than Price— nearing forty and not enjoying it— and also had been in the system longer than she had. Unlike Hutch, he happened to enjoy butting heads with her. H e’d have enjoyed doing m ore than that with her, but their relationship outside of w ork, convoluted from the get-go, had gotten especially twisted over the past year. H e’d been m aking a concerted effort to un­ snarl the tangles, but somehow, the more he tried, the more knot­ ted they got. Jack Dwyer w as not typically a patient man. On the other hand, he w as used to getting his way. But then, so w as N atalie Price. They just wanted different things. “ Whether she caused the trouble or n ot,” Ja ck said, zeroing in on N at, “ Ingram did need to be placed under protective cus­ tody after several assaults and at least one rape. And even though she refused to identify any of her assailants, it didn’t win her any fans am ong the other female inmates or the male and female staff.” “ M aybe she kept mum because they weren’t really r a p e s ” Hutch muttered. “ M aybe she w as looking for some action.” “ M aybe she w as scared of getting whacked for ratting any o f them o u t,” Sharon Johnson said heatedly. Although you

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w ouldn’t guess it to look at this elegant, full-bodied, cocoa­ skinned w om an in her crisp russet D onna K aran suit, the thirtyeight-year-old job-placement counselor knew what she w as talking about, having done three tough years at CCI Grafton. Sharon was one of two ex-con staff members employed at H orizon H ouse. The other, Akeem Ahmal, w as the center’s cook, or “ ch ef” as he preferred to be called. N at had had to fight tooth and nail to secure those appointm ents, these two people being the only ex-cons employed by the Corrections Department within the confines of a prison facility. And make no m istake, H orizon H ouse, a tidy, renovated Vic­ torian building that in its first incarnation at the turn o f the last century served as a proper hotel for young women, might lack concrete perimeter walls and armed guard towers, and it might be located sm ack-dab in the middle of downtown Boston so the inmates who qualified for a placement there might get a taste of the “ real w orld,” but there w as absolutely no question that this six-story brick edifice w as a prison, albeit the only corrections facility that housed male and female inmates in the same build­ ing. While the men and women had secured quarters on separate floors, and unsupervised fraternization was strictly forbidden, all o f the rehab program s— alcohol or drug treatment, anger m an­ agement, parenting skills, whatever— were now intentionally coed. It had taken all o f N a t Price’s considerable persuasive pow ­ ers to convince the com m issioner and the governor that the p o ­ tential benefits o f this reality-based approach far exceeded the potential pitfalls, never anticipating the w hopping pitfall on the table today. “W ho’s Ingram into, anyway? M en? W omen? B oth?” Hutch addressed the question to the group.

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Sharon glared at him. “ W hat difference does her sexual pref­ erence m ak e?” H utch raised both palm s in her direction. H is style of apology. Although N at had known for some time, Sharon had just recently come out of the closet to the rest o f her colleagues. A couple of weeks ago, she even brought Raylene Ford, her partner of several years, to a staff picnic. The two women met up when they were incarcerated at C CI Grafton over eight years ago. They were friends inside and became lovers after they were both released. N at first met Ray during a crisis last year at Horizon H ouse. It w as during that chaotic time that N at also got to know her em­ ployment counselor a lot better. “ Look, Sharon, I don’t mean any disrespect,” Hutch verbal­ ized his apology. “ But I think we have a right to know who Ingram might target. Let’s face it, we can keep our boys and girls segregated except for supervised program s, but we all know, ‘Where there’s a will there’s a way— ” ’ “ Let’s stick to the point here, fo lk s,” N at interrupted, wanting to guard against turning this intake meeting into a gossip session about which inmate had tried to hit on or som ehow succeeded in scoring with which other inmate. Sure, it happened, but not that often; the risks— a one-way ticket back to the joint— far outweighed the benefits for m ost of the cons. This facility w as a bridge for inmates between a walled prison and the street, place­ ment running from six to nine months, m ax. Some of the inmates engaged in catch-as-catch-can flirting, but since they were doing “ short tim e” — meaning they’d be hitting the street soon enough-— for the m ost part they kept their ardor in check. “ The point, as I see it,” Jack said, “ is that Ingram had to serve all but four months of her three years isolated from the general population. Even given that it w as no fault o f her own,

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she needed protection. N o w ay are we equipped to provide that kind o f security here and we all know it. For her own best in­ terests, as well as ours, I think she should finish up her six months right where she is n ow .” Dr. R oss V arda cleared his throat, glancing across the brown Form ica conference table at N at Price. She gave the slightly over­ bearing, tall, young Freud look-alike a nod, relieved to let the visiting psychiatrist have the floor. Adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses, then sm oothing down his neatly trimmed beard, the thirty-four-year-old shrink took in each o f them in a clockwise turn—;N at, then Dwyer, Hutch, and Sharon Johnson, then back to N at again— as he spoke in flat, m easured tones. “ I have been meeting with Lynn twice a month throughout the duration of her incarceration at C CI Grafton. I believe this move is in Lynn’s best interest. With Superintendent Price’s approval, I will be con­ tinuing psychiatric sessions with my patient here at Horizon H ouse, as well as overseeing her m edications.” “ M eds. So she is nuts,” Hutch said. “ I mean, no big surprise there. Any guy w ho’d go and have his— ” “ Lynn Ingram is legally and physiologically a fem ale,” Dr. V arda cut in sharply, his voice no longer flat nor his w ords m ea­ sured. “ And she is not ‘nuts’ . I did put her on an antidepressant shortly after she w as placed in isolation at G rafton— who w ouldn’t suffer depression being stuck in that kind o f a setting never mind the horrific assaults that required her placement in protective custody in the first place. However, with the prospect o f being transferred to a prerelease facility, Lynn’s depression lifted substantially, and I approved her discontinuing the Zoloft. She is now only on a maintenance dosage of hormone replace­ ment therapy.” Jack gave the psychiatrist a curious look. “ H o w ’d she get the

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okay on the horm ones?” A good question. Certainly inmates suf­ fering diabetes received insulin; those suffering H IV or AIDS got whatever drug therapy w as required. In short, the Department of Corrections had to, by law, provide life-supportive medical treatment to all men and women under its charge. It could easily be argued that horm onal treatment for a transsexual w as not a medical health imperative. But N at imagined that without the hormones, the threat to her mental health would be another m at­ ter altogether. “ She was forbidden her hormones at first,” V arda said, an edge of irritation in his voice. “ However, with my help, her law ­ yer appealed and got the decision reversed by an appellate judge.” Hutch snickered. “ Otherwise what? Cinderella w ould have turned back into Cinder/e//^? Only without a dick ?” “ T h at’s enough, H utch,” N at snapped. Although she w as plenty angry at her CO for these crude, not to mention biased, rem arks, she w as pretty sure none o f them, except perhaps Dr. V arda, w as immune to disquieting feelings about a person who had undergone sex-reassignment surgery. It w as just a matter of how they each processed those feelings. N at had encountered a fair number of both male and female cross-dressing inmates in her eight years with Corrections, but none of those she’d encoun­ tered had undergone an actual sex-change operation. Still, what experience had taught her w as, in general, when all you saw w as a stereotype, you saw nothing. And you missed everything. The psychiatrist w as frowning at Hutch. “ It’s precisely that kind o f ignorant thinking that will provoke problem s for Lynn here at H orizon H ouse. I’m very sad to learn I w as misled into thinking that this facility w as both progressive and inclusive.” Admittedly, the psychiatrist w as not getting the best picture

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of her progressive staff, but whenever any o f N a t’s people were attacked by outsiders she got very testy. “ You don’t have to concern yourself about G ordon Hutchins causing any problem s if Ingram ’s transferred,” she told V arda crisply. “ H e’s the best chief corrections officer I’ve ever had the good fortune to come across. I’m exceedingly lucky to have him .” V arda parted his thin lips, mostly hidden by the sandy-colored full beard-and-m ustache com bo (a com pensation for his pre­ maturely thinning reddish hair?), but then pressed his lips together, clearly— and wisely— thinking better of arguing with her. Hutch, never one to appreciate a woman fighting his battles— even a w om an he liked and begrudgingly adm ired— nailed the shrink with a smirk. “ You call all your patients by their first nam es? O r just the pretty on es?” H utch needled, then caught N a t’s cool it gaze in his direction. He heaved a sigh. “ Sorry, D o c.” He didn’t say it like he meant it. H e didn’t even try. Red blotches decorated V arda’s cheeks, or w hat could be seen of them above the beard. N at w asn’t sure if the psychiatrist w as angry or em barrassed. H e w ouldn’t be the first shrink to get over­ ly and inappropriately involved with an attractive patient. From what N at had seen of Lynn Ingram on Court T V and in the tabloids four years back, the transsexual w as m ore than attrac­ tive. She w as stunning. “ Can I raise a point here?” Jack w asn’t really asking perm is­ sion. “ We can all vouch for Hutch, no question about it,” he added, eyeballing V arda, “ and for the rest o f our staff. The in­ m ates, though, that’s another question. Some of them could be a problem . And we don’t need problem s.” He leaned back in his chair. “ Which is precisely why I say we p a ss.” “ And I say that if we start eliminating inmates who qualify

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for the program based on our inability to provide a safe envi­ ronment for them, we might as well close up shop and go hom e.” N a t’s tone w as emphatic. Jack shifted focus to the psychiatrist. “ I’m curious about something, Doc. H as Ingram ever accepted the manslaughter charge the jury handed dow n?” Jack posed the question with a deadpan delivery that only m ade V arda shift some more in his chair. “ Lynn— Dr. Ingram ” — V arda spoke through pinched lips, more red blotches on his cheeks (a wry smile on Hutch’s lips)— “ has -been consistent in holding to her original statement o f self­ defense. Nonetheless, there is no question she feels deep remorse for having been the cause, unintended though it was, o f M atthew Slater’s death.” Sharon Johnson, her expression openly showing her growing irritation and frustration with the w ay the proceedings were go ­ ing, noisily removed a sheet o f paper from the thick file in front o f her. “ I have a letter here from Dr. H arrison Bell at the Boston H arbor Community Pain Clinic, where Dr. Ingram previously worked, requesting that she be allowed to do her work-release program at his facility.” “ She can’t treat patients anym ore.” Hutch w as quick to cor­ rect the employment counselor. “ She lost her license to practice psychology when she w as convicted o f second-degree m anslaugh­ ter.” “ Dr. Bell understands that Ingram is no longer licensed as a clinical psychologist,” Sharon said impatiently, then glanced down at the letter. “ He indicates, however, that she can still work in a lay capacity as his assistant. I don’t see any reason why this w ouldn’t be an ideal placement— ” Hutch eyed N at. “ L ook, I hear w hat you’ve been saying, N at,

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and . . . okay— in general I’m with you one hundred percent. ” A snicker from Sharon produced an honest smile on the C O ’s face. “ O kay, maybe seventy-five percent. I don’t w anna be the bad guy here, but I also remember that not too long ago, we came damn close to being forced to close up shop thanks to another inmate fiasco. Are we really ready to dive back into that fray again ?” Although the question w as addressed to the group, N at knew that H utch’s w ords were meant expressly for her. N o one spoke, but N at had no doubt everyone around the table w as vividly recalling that all-too-recent debacle. Less than a year had gone by since Dean Thom as W alsh, an inmate at the center who w as finishing up a sentence for rape, escaped after being accused o f murdering a beautiful young English professor w ho’d become his writing mentor. The professor, M aggie Austin, also happened to be N atalie Price’s closest friend. And Jack Dwyer’s lover. H utch w as right. It w as truly a miracle that their then-oneyear-old prerelease facility had w ithstood the m aelstrom o f public outrage resulting from the W alsh debacle. N at w as still suffering the effects of that catastrophe. She’d lost her best friend, and her job had been put in jeopardy, not to mention her life. She’d also come dangerously close to getting romantically involved with her deputy, and— maybe worse— fallen for the detective in charge of the W alsh case. Leo Coscarelli. The same guy w ho’d been the lead detective in the M atthew Slater murder investigation. Dr. V arda broke the long silence: “ I should mention that one of the current residents at H orizon H ouse shared a cell with M s. Ingram before she was placed in protective custody. They became friends. Lynn feels she’ll be a good ally here. H er nam e’s Suzanne H olden.” As if there weren’t enough com plications. Suzanne H olden also happened to be the mother of Leo Coscarelli’s child.

two IS SHE O R IS SHE N O T . . . A SH E? And a Murderess to B ootf Ju ry’s Still Out. (t a b l o i d

h e a d l in e d u r in g

THE IN TA KE C O N F ER EN C E

In g r a m

m u r d e r t r ia l )

w as over a few minutes before noon with

Lynn Ingram ’s transfer to H orizon H ouse still up in the air. N at announced to the team that she’d decided to go to CCI G rafton that afternoon and have a one-on-one meeting with Ingram be­ fore m aking her final decision. Everyone cleared out of N a t’s office except her deputy. Jack remained seated at the round conference table as N at purpose­ fully walked diagonally across the large oak-paneled room over to her desk near the bay window that looked out on Providence Street. She w as acutely conscious o f the pulse of stop-and-go traf­ fic outside.

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“ If you’re hanging around to continue your argument with me about Ingram , forget it, Ja c k ,” she said, studiously avoiding eye contact. “ I’ve got a budget meeting first thing tom orrow that I’ve got to get ready for, not to mention a half-dozen exit reports to go over, a review-board hearing— ” Ja ck rose from the table and crossed over to her desk, perch­ ing himself on one corner o f it while she busily riffled through a sheaf of papers that m ade up the semiannual budget report. The lists of numbers were a blur. “ Y o u ’re wearing that

n o t r e s p a s s in g

sign around your neck

again .”* “ D on ’t start with me, Ja c k .” “ I started with you w ay before now .” She glanced up at him. He w as smiling. N ot one of his seem­ ingly chiseled “ sneering” smiles that were usually laced either with sarcasm or derision, and which N at had learned to, handle with aplom b over time. This w as one of his rarer smiles, one that had a touch o f tenderness in it. Jack always threw her off when he came across as endearing. Until she rushed back in and re­ minded herself of his two disastrous m arriages, his secret love affair with her best friend, and his on-again, off-again bouts with the bottle. N at focused on the budget report, pretending intense concen­ tration. Ja ck cupped a hand under her chin, forcing her head up. “ Let’s go get some lunch.” She brusquely shoved his hand away. “ N o ,” she said firmly. W hat gave her the edge in her battle not to fall prey to her ju­ venile sexual attraction to Jack w as her not-so-secret weapon: Leo Coscarelli. N ow , Leo didn’t have the obvious charism a of Ja c k Dwyer, but what he lacked in overt allure he m ade up for

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one-hundredfold in genuineness. In his own inimitable way Leo w as as sexy, tough, and tender as Jack. And Leo had it all with­ out the drinking problem, and without any previous m arriages, disastrous or otherwise. Which w asn’t to say Leo had no baggage o f his own. H e did— the heaviest “ carry-on b ag ” being inmate number 4 7 9 9 8 4 , Suzanne H olden . . . and their four-year-old so n ,Ja c o b . N at didn’t want to get hurt— again. The ink on her divorce papers w as still wet. N o matter how hard she tried to analyze the disintegration of her m arriage to Ethan Price, the w ord failure glared like a 300-w att bulb in front of her eyes. N at did not take well to failing. O r to having rugs pulled out from under her. You would think that with all the radically shifting rugs of her dys­ functional childhood, she w ould have learned by experience, if nothing else, how to handle failure better in adulthood. Y ou ’d be wrong. “ Com e on, N at. Even a busy super’s gotta eat,” Jack coaxed, his voice piercing her meandering thoughts. She glanced up, catching his sm ug look. Sm ug w as better. Safer. Sm ug reminded her of Ethan. Ethan reminded her of why she had gone through with the divorce even when her errant husband w as having sec­ ond thoughts . . . “ We owe it to ourselves to try again, N at. We had eight go o d years— ” “ G o o d fo r you, maybe. ” “I made a mistake. A big mistake. ” “So did I, E th an .” “ I brought a sandw ich,” N at told Jack brusquely, turning her attention back to the budget report, not adding that she’d brought an extra sandwich in case a certain little boy who was presently out in the visiting room decided to pop into her office.

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Com plicated as her relationship w as with Leo Coscarelli, there w as nothing com plicated about N a t’s feelings for his four-yearold son, Jakey, She adored the child. “ Y ou look pale, N at. And too thin. I really think you should let me take you out for a nice, hearty lunch,” he pressed. N at w as not about to argue with him about her appearance. At five foot seven she should probably have weighed a good twenty m ore pounds than the hundred and eighteen her scale had been reading for months now. She’d tried to put on some weight, to no avail. Even went to her doctor for a checkup a few weeks ago. L te sa id it w as stress. N at had said, “So what else is newV’ Jack snatched at an errant corkscrew strand of her impossibly unruly auburn hair that had escaped its French knot. N at shoved the strand back into the knot. Jack cocked his head, checking her out. “ Y ou ’re still beautiful.”

_

She gave him a wry look. “ I can’t still be something I never w as, Ja c k .” N at w asn’t being coy or digging for more com pli­ ments. She’ d always been realistic about her looks. In her self­ analysis, she cam e off as merely attractive. She had olive skin that rarely broke out, hazel eyes, slender nose, lips that were neither too thin nor full enough for the current vogue. H er curly auburn hair w as her m ost striking feature, and her m ost irritat­ ing. It kept fighting her. The “ her” that wanted to present a crisp, professional, no-nonsense image. The kind of image appropriate to her position. T hat w as why she always wore her hair pulled back into a French knot when she w as at work. That w as also why she wore alm ost no m akeup, low-heeled pum ps, and tailored suits— gray, black, blue— the skirts always hitting below her kneecap. Ja ck w as not swayed from his determinedly seductive mode.

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“ Y o u ’re always so hard on yourself, N at. Y ou need to lighten up a little. Smile more. Y o u ’ve got a knockout smile. It m akes the corners of your eyes crinkle— ” “ Those crinkles are age lines. I’m edging onto thirty-three, and on days like today, I feel and probably look about one hundred. So cut the bullshit, Jack. I’m not in the m ood— ” “ For trouble?” “ E xactly,” she said. “ So then tell me why you’re asking for it, N a t.” She looked up at him. The charm w as gone. So w as the sm ug­ ness. Back to business. N at should have known he w as simply looking for an “ in” to continue the argum ent he’d left off during the Ingram intake meeting. “ I’m doing my job, Ja c k .” She reached into her tote bag for her sandwich, slowly unw rapping the turkey and cheddar on rye. There w as a gnawing sensation in her stomach. But it w asn’t the result of hunger. It w as good old stress. “ Did Suzanne H olden ever mention Lynn Ingram to y o u ?” he asked, watching her careful ministrations. “ N o. But I’ll talk to her. And to Ingram .” “ Coscarelli handled Ingram ’s case, you know .” “ I know .” She crumpled the plastic w rap into a ball, and with a flick o f her wrist, tossed it in the direction o f her trash can. It missed. They both ignored it. “ You gonna talk to him ?” “ Leo and I talk all the tim e.” “ H e’s out in the visiting room right now. Along with his mother and his kid. Suzanne told me he’s been visiting more frequently. On Sunday, he and the kid showed up without G randm a. First time she didn’t come along as chaperone. And he stayed for the full two hours. Suzanne told me on M onday,

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he’s been pushing even harder for her to tell the boy she’s his mommy. ” N at pushed her sandwich aside, her appetite fully gone. “ Is there a point to this, Ja c k ? ” “ The point is, I don’t want you to get hurt again ,” he said softly. “ Let’s not do this, Ja c k .” He leaned closer. C lose enough for N at to smell his coffee breath. Better than those days when he reeked of whiskey and mouth freshener. H e’d been on the w agon for close to a year. A big plus in N a t’s book. Especially since her dad had been an alcoholic w ho’d served time— once for driving to endanger while under the influence, and a second time for parole violations. Fol­ lowing his second release, after grappling with the pressure to stay sober, w ork a menial job, make up for lost time with his daughters, and cope with his manic-depressive wife, he blew it. One day, he disappeared, drank him self into a five-day-l6ng stu­ por, then sobered up enough to hang himself. N at w as seventeen. “ Give me a chance here, N at. Ju st crack the door open this m uch.” H e m easured an inch with his thumb and index finger. N at saw the loneliness reflected in Ja c k ’s eyes. For the past year, there hadn’t been any wom an in his life for more than a night or two. After her friend M aggie’s death, intense feelings of grief and betrayal had brought N at and Ja c k into each other’s arm s for a very brief time. N at had come to her senses before it had gotten out o f hand, but Ja ck w ouldn’t let it go. She saw his persistence as one part bruised ego, and, more significantly, her deputy’s w ay of fending off the pain of losing M aggie. When Jack got no response from N at, he reluctantly got to his feet and headed over to the door. “ I still think you’re making a m istake about Ingram .” As alw ays, a last-word kind of guy.

three The sentence is an outrage. I don’t care what sex that pervert thinks he is, or what he says, he killed my hus­ band in cold blood. And he should have been put away for life. J e n n if e r S la t e r ( p o s t -t r i a l

NAT WAS STANDING

sta tem en t to th e p r e ss)

by her window watching Anna Coscarelli and

her grandson, Jakey, his little hand clasped in hers, exit the center. “ G ot a sec?” a voice asked behind her. Instead of turning to her visitor, N at watched the pair as they stepped into a waiting taxi. It w as a warm , breezy summer day, the first in nearly a week o f alm ost constant rain and grayness. The kind of day meant to be spent out o f doors. O ut of offices. “ I hear you and Jakey visited Suzanne on your own this week­ end.” N at could feel a scratchiness in her throat as she spoke. “ M y mother had a stom ach b u g,” Leo Coscarelli said, w alk­ ing over to her.

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“ H ow is she n ow ?” He w as at her side. “ W hat’s wrong, N atalie?” Everyone but Leo called her “ N a t.” She usually liked that he used her full given name. Right now it irritated her. But then, she’d been feeling irritated before L eo’s arrival. “ D o you remember Lynn Ingram ?” “ She’s not som eone you’d forget,” he said without guile. “ N o , I suppose n o t,” N at said. “ She coming up for work-release transfer?” N at nodded. “ W hat do you think?” Leo leaned against the w all beside the window, hands jammed into the pockets of his blue sports jacket. N at noticed that he looked thinner, his face drawn. Stress? Brought on by the job — by her— by Suzanne— any com bination thereof ? Welcome to the club. “ W hat do I think?” he echoed. “ I think it could be dicey.” “ Did you agree with the guilty verdict?” “ She confessed.” “ T o self-defense.” He shrugged. “ The jury thought otherwise.” “ I follow ed some of the trial.” “ Who didn’t? ” “ H er doctor confirmed that she had suffered a great deal of bruising, which supported her story that M atthew Slater vi­ ciously attacked her.” “ And the jury believed that she acquired those bruises as a consequence o f Slater trying to defend himself against her attack on him .” “ W hat did you believe, L eo ?” “ I don’t see the point o f the question. She w as tried by a jury of her peers— ”

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“ ‘Peers’ ? H ow many transsexuals were on her ju ry?” Leo exhaled slowly. A few seconds passed. “ I liked her. She w as nothing like the stereotype. N o affectations. N o sign of van­ ity. N o hint o f any confusion on her part about who she w as— not just in terms o f gender, but who she w as as a person. Do you want to know w hat I came aw ay from the whole ugly busi­ ness feeling the m ost? Sad. W as she guilty o f murder? I honestly don’t know .” “ Did you know Ingram and Suzanne were cellmates at G raf­ ton ?” JsTat saw by his expression that this w as news to him. And the news w asn’t sitting well. “ Apparently they were friends,” N at added. “ I’m going out to G rafton to talk to Lynn Ingram. Before I do, I think I should have a few w ords with Suzanne about her.” Leo, usually so good at maintaining his poker face, w as having a rough time of it today. “ It’s been— w hat?— three years?” “ Y ou think Ingram ’s any less memorable to Suzanne than she is to y o u ?” N at countered. “ She’s having a rough time o f it, N atalie.” “ I assum e you mean Suzanne.” “ I doubt she needs any more headaches.” “ And by ‘headaches,’ I assum e you mean Lynn Ingram .” “ Suzanne’s only got a few more months to go before she’s out of here.”

.

N a t could feel the tension radiating through her body. Then what? Suzanne H olden’s exit interviews w ouldn’t begin until four weeks before her release date. N at did know from Sharon Jo h n ­ son that the owner o f the boutique where Suzanne had been placed for work-release had offered her a full-time position once

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she w as free. But Suzanne had not, as yet, accepted the offer. N at felt guilty for hoping Suzanne w ouldn’t take the job. That she w ouldn’t stay around the Boston area. Around Leo. She w as from the central part o f the state. There were plenty of job o p ­ portunities there— “ H as Suzanne told you what her plans are once she’s o u t?” N at tried for a professional tone that fell dismally flat. Leo let what they both knew w as a loaded question hover in the air, which only served to accelerate the rate and flow o f N a t’s anxiety. Leo had told her long ago the dram a of errors that led up to his getting Suzanne pregnant, which in turn led up to his son’s birth. Suzanne, w ho’d served time for prostitution and drug possession, had met Leo shortly after a m andatory stint in a drug treatment center. Actually, L eo’s mother, a volunteer at the treat­ ment center, had brought them together. Anna Coscarelli, w ho’d lost her only daughter to a drug overdose, had taken to m oth­ ering Suzanne. She even cajoled her into enrolling in soriie college classes when she got out o f rehab. Which w as where Leo came into the picture. Anna talked her son into tutoring Suzanne. He w as attracted to her. He admitted that openly. But he never in­ tended for anything to happen. H is libido ultimately won out over his intentions. Only one time, according to Leo, after which he felt guilty as hell. Then he found out Suzanne w as pregnant. And that she w as planning to abort the pregnancy. Leo talked her out o f an abortion only by agreeing to raise the child on his own. Suzanne w as adam ant about wanting nothing to do with Jaco b Coscarelli. Right after she w as released from the maternity w ard, she handed the new­ born over to Leo and disappeared, determined never to see the child again. W ho knew if Suzanne might have relented over time? Who

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knew if she and Leo might have worked out their relationship if she’d stayed off drugs, as she’d assiduously and faithfully done throughout her whole pregnancy? She didn’t stay off drugs once she ran off. And while under the influence of crack, she got into a row with her dealer/lover who wanted her to go back to w ork­ ing the streets to pay off her mounting drug debts. She claimed he pulled a knife on her. They struggled. And the knife ended up in the guy’s gut. N o one on the jury mourned the death o f the drug dealer, nor did they feel much pity for a longtime drug user and hooker. Any more than Ingram ’s jury had felt much pity for a transsexual. While serving time for first-degree m anslaughter at CCI G raf­ ton, Suzanne consented to visits from her son and his gran d­ mother, on the condition that Jakey not know she w as his mother. He w as simply told that Suzanne w as “ a special friend o f the fam ily.” Early on, Leo had visited as well, but Suzanne had asked him to stop coming, because having a cop as a visitor w asn’t winning her any favors am ong her peers or “ the screw s.” Since she’d been at Horizon H ouse, the pressure had lifted and Leo reentered her life. W hat it meant to him or to Suzanne was not something N at had been able to figure out. M aybe neither o f them had, either. Still, no question that, as Jak ey ’s parents, there w as a bond between Suzanne and Leo, whether they liked it or not— whether N at liked it or not. “ Is Suzanne any closer to telling Jakey the truth?” N at asked, not even bothering to keep the strain out o f her voice. Leo shook his head, clearly not happy about it. “ Since he started nursery school, Jak ey ’s been asking a lot o f ‘M om m y’ questions. The other morning at breakfast, he asked his grand­ mother if he could call her M om m y instead of G randm a. Then he could have a daddy and a m om m y.”

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There w as such a note of sorrow in Leo’s voice that N at felt asham ed of her own selfish concerns. She placed a hand on his sleeve. “ W ould it help if I talked to Suzanne?” L eo’s eyes locked with hers. “ She knows about the tw o of u s.” N at pulled her hand aw ay as if it had been burned, “ W hat? You told her? Y ou told Suzanne we were . . . ” For a moment she w as so frazzled, she w as at a loss what to call them. “ I didn’t go into detail. But I felt she had a right to know w e’re involved.” “ M y private life is not the business o f any inmate in this in­ stitution,” N at said hotly. “ M y private life is the business of my child’s mother. I’m sorry that impinges on your need for privacy, N atalie.” Leo paused, his expression softening. “ Anyway, I think Suzanne w ould have figured it out whether I said something or not. Jakey told her a while back that you’re his secret m om m y.”

"

N at stared at Leo, dazed. Speechless. Her anger punctured, seeping out of her.

“ Y ou wanted to see me, Superintendent?” There w as a m arked edge of nervousness in Suzanne H olden’s voice, much like that of a child being called to the principal’s office and not knowing what she’d done wrong. “ Sit down, Suzanne.” N at gestured tow ard one of the tweedupholstered arm chairs across from her desk. Suzanne hesitated, looking around the office as if it held some clue as to why the superintendent had ordered her there. In those sam e m oments, N at took the opportunity to observe the inmate m ore closely. The stylish, soft-rose-colored dress she w as w ear­

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ing m ost likely had been purchased with an employee discount at the boutique. The jersey m aterial follow ed the svelte lines of her petite body while m anaging not to cling provocatively. Which, ironically, m ade her look even sexier. “ Please.” N a t’s hand w as still gesturing tow ard the chair. Despite her attempt to sound unthreatening, N at knew Suz­ anne heard it as an order. And hearing it as such, she obeyed. It w as the sam e with m ost inmates, and N at usually m ade a con­ certed effort to say something to ease the tension they were feel­ ing. But she couldn’t find the w ords now. Probably because she w as at least as tense as Suzanne. The fact that Leo hadn’t told v

Suzanne any of the details of his personal relationship with N at in no w ay assuaged N a t’s upset or discom fort. Sometimes, saying a little w as worse than saying a lot. It left so much open to the imagination. D id Suzanne imagine Leo and N at were more deeply involved than they were in reality? D id she assum e they were living together— perhaps contemplating m arriage? And if she'owned any of these thoughts, w as she jealous— angry— resentful? Could Suz­ anne possibly feel as aw kw ard as N at w as feeling? “ H ave I busted some rule I don’t know ab ou t?” Suzanne avoided meeting N a t’s gaze— or w as N at the one avoiding meet­ ing the inm ate’s? Agitation m ore than anything else m ade N at leap abruptly to the point: “ D o you remember a former cellmate of yours at G raf­ ton— Lynn Ingram ?” Suzanne’s first reaction w as confusion. Clearly, this w as not the direction she thought this meeting w ould take. H er relief was palpable. She alm ost smiled. “ Lynn? Yeah, sure. Sure, I remember her,” Suzanne said. “ She w as great.” She stopped. N at watched the inm ate’s features slowly darken. “ It w as hor­

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rible, what they did to her.” She muttered this under her breath, but N at caught her words. N at presum ed Suzanne w as referring to the attacks and not to her cellmate’s having been put into protective custody. “ W as it other inm ates— officers— both?” She spied a flicker of alarm on Suzanne’s face and then, in the proverbial wink of an eye, blankness. “ H u h ?” N a t had seen that look on many inm ates’ faces. It w as invar­ iably contrived, a deliberate battening down o f the hatches. The m essage w as clear: D o n ’t go there. “ Lynn Ingram m ay be transferring to H orizon H ouse. I haven’t m ade my decision yet. Is there some inform ation you have that could affect the decision I m ak e?” Suzanne’s reply came after a lengthy pause. “ N o .” “ W ould she be in any physical or psychological danger that you know o f? ” N at persisted. Both her body language and her brittle responses suggested to N at that Suzanne knew more than she w as saying; they also suggested her fear. Ratting out another inmate, male or female, put any inmate in serious jeopardy. R at­ ting out an officer could put an inmate in hell. “ N othing you tell me will leave this room , Suzanne. I promise you— ” “ I have nothing to tell you.” For a moment the look on the inm ate’s face was imploring. Then she just shut down again, her expression blank. N at had witnessed this kind o f closing-off from many inmates. Sometimes she could break through the barriers they erected. But it took time. It took figuring out a strategy that would work. Even when N at succeeded, it never came easy. And because of all the com plications implicit in N a t’s dealings with Suzanne,

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finding a w ay through this inm ate’s defenses w as going to be especially tough. Suzanne w as on her feet. “ Can I be excused?” N at nodded wearily. But when the inmate got to the door, N at said, “ This isn’t going away, Suzanne.” Although her state­ ment w as intentionally vague, she could see from the inm ate’s parting look that the m essage, with all its ambiguities, had hit home.

four A miscarriage o f justice has taken place here today. If my client was not a transgendered person, she never would have been found guilty. A ttorney A aron H ( p o s t -t r i a l

IF T H E E L E C T R I F I E D

ir s h

sta tem en t to th e p r e ss)

razor wire ringing the stone walls o f CCI Grafton

didn’t exist, nor the iron entry gates monitored by two uniformed and arm ed corrections officers, the institution might have been taken for a som ewhat run-down college cam pus. Past the gates, N at drove into a large parking lot where staff and visitor spaces were clearly demarcated. N at opted for one of the visitor’s spots. As she made her way past the lot, she came to a central green, the facility’s buildings forming a U around it. Tw o inmates were mowing the grass. A couple o f others were tending to the weeds

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around the mums and m arigolds rimming the concrete paths that crisscrossed the green. There were a sm attering o f inmates sitting together on benches, m ost of them sm oking— there w as now a “ N o Sm ok­ ing” m andate in all public buildings in the Commonwealth. The bench scene looked like a sm oke break at any workplace, as, unlike m en’s prisons, the women were permitted to wear street clothes, with the exception of miniskirts, cutoffs, midriff-length tops, stretch pants, or shoes with heels over one inch. It was another matter for the women placed in isolation. They were issued, state uniform s— orange jum psuits, black oxford shoes. This w as to m ake them instantly identifiable. N at took the path that ran straight across the green and led to a central three-story brick structure of pseudo-Baroque design. This building contained the administrative offices, visiting room , dining hall, medical infirmary, and a small mental health unit. An L-shaped addition added to the right o f the building housed the educational and vocational area. A good decade before N a t’s time, inmates could actually attain college degrees while incar­ cerated. Because of endless budget cuts and the strong p ro­ punishment political climate, however, the educational offerings were meager today— m ostly classes focused on helping inmates who never graduated high school get their G ED certificates. There were a few outdated computers in a small lab, but class instruction w as minimal at best. The main vocational trainingcum -w ork program in the institution— beyond lawn/garden care and housekeeping/janitorial maintenance— w as flag m aking, pri­ marily the cutting and machine-stitching o f the American flag and state flags. A half-dozen low-slung one-story concrete buildings that re­ minded N at of bunkers surrounded the main building: three

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on the right, three on the left. These were the dormitories housing the female inmates. There were no bars on the w indows, and there were no traditional cells. But the front doors of the units were locked after nine

p .m

.,

and female and male correctional

officers, always in pairs, were stationed within the dorms around the clock. Behind the adm inistration building w as one additional dor­ mitory, not only separate from the others but enclosed within its own electrified chain-link fence. This was the isolation unit, “ the IU” in prison lingo. While there were no bars on these windows, either, there was wire mesh embedded between the double-glass panes. W hereas women doubled or tripled up in the other units, here every w om an w as confined to her own locked room. And there was no mingling with any of the inmates in the institution at large. Women who couldn’t function within the general population were placed in UI. They might be so hard to control that they were forced to spend their entire sentence in isolation; they might be remanded there on a time-limited basis because of severe in­ fractions of the prison rules; or, like Lynn Ingram, placed in iso­ lation to protect them from the other inmates. Whatever the reason, they took all their meals alone in their room s, exercised alone for only one hour a day, and, when granted visiting priv­ ileges, had to use one o f four segregated and closely supervised one-on-one spaces located within the unit. There w as no question this w as a grim way to have to do time. It w as one thing when you brought it on yourself and were placed there for incorrigibility or an infraction of the rules. It w as another, when you were put in isolation through no fault of your own. N at knew, going into G rafton, that she w as already

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feeling sorry for Lynn Ingram and would have to guard against letting her emotions get the upper hand. N at had a brief and disappointingly uninformative talk with Jo an M oore, the recently appointed superintendent at Grafton, who had nothing of substance to offer beyond what N at had already read in Ingram ’s file. M oore then cleared out, allowing N at the use of her large, airy, cherry-paneled office for her meet­ ing with Lynn Ingram. Ingram arrived dressed in the m andatory sexless orange jum psuit, accom panied by an IU officer. N at noticed a faint lowering of the inm ate’s shoulders as the door. shut. Still, Ingram looked far from relaxed, staring down at the floor, avoiding eye contact. This didn’t surprise N at. Inmates soon learned it could be dangerous to look a superior in the eye. It w as often read as insolence, seen as a challenge. Even among themselves, men and women who were incarcerated, quickly dis­ covered who it was safe to eyeball and who it w asn’t. The officer lackadaisically tucked the cuffs into his back pocket and waited for N at’s verbal dism issal before he shuffled out of the room . Even though this w as the first time N at had seen the inmate in person she w as not thrown off-guard by Ingram ’s beauty. N ei­ ther the garish orange uniform, nor the blonde hair, which she w as wearing pulled severely back off her face in a coiled bun, detracted from her genuine aura of femininity. “ Are you here to bring me good news or b ad ?” Ingram asked with a frankness that N a t hadn’t expected. “ I haven’t m ade my decision yet.” Ingram glanced up at N at for an instant then dropped her gaze. “ W hat do I have to do to convince you to approve my transfer?” “ Sit down. H ow about some coffee? It’s fresh. M ilk? Su gar?”

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N at w as already at the M r. Coffee, setting up two mugs. Busy w ork. Busy mouth. “ I’m too nervous to drink anything,” Ingram confided. “ But I will sit dow n.” N at noticed, as Ingram perched more than sat in one of the super’s com fortable m aroon leather arm chairs, that her hands remained clasped together— as if her wrists were cuffed. “ Y ou meet all o f the requirements for transfer, M s. Ingram ,” N at told her, carefully removing the coffee carafe from the stand. “ ‘But’ ? ” H aving no real interest in the coffee, N at replaced the carafe and crossed the office, taking a matching chair across from the inmate. “ I’m concerned about providing for your safety.” Instead of jum ping right in and trying to disabuse N at o f her worries, Lynn nodded solemnly. “ T h at’s understandable. I’m a liability. There’s no getting around that.” N at could see immediately why Leo liked Lynn Ingram. N at found herself quickly feeling the sam e way. Lynn w as direct with­ out being confrontational, courteous without being ingratiating. She didn’t wear her vulnerability on her sleeve, but she didn’t seem intent on fiercely hiding it behind a N othing can get to me exterior like many inmates did. Like so many people do. “ W hat I need to decide is, how much o f a liability. I’m hoping you can help me m ake that decision.” “ H ow can I do th at?” she asked without hesitation. N at reached into her attache case and retrieved a small sheaf of papers she’d brought with her. “ This is a list of all of the staff and inmates presently at H orizon H ou se.” She held the pages out, but Lynn Ingram m ade no effort to take them. “ I’m not asking you to name names, M s. Ingram. I just want

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you to go through the list, then simply tell me if you feel you would be . . . com fortable am ong u s.” Still, Ingram ’s hands remained firmly clasped together. N at leaned forw ard. “ It’s a matter o f record that you were assaulted on more than one occasion while you were in the gen­ eral population.” She saw Ingram stiffen, but the inmate re­ mained mute. “ You were raped, Lynn. At least once . . . m ore— ” “ Please sto p ,” Lynn implored. “ I just want to forget.” “ You, o f all people, know that’s not possible.” “ Because I’m a tran ssexu al?” There w as a note o f defensive­ ness irt the inm ate’s voice. “ Because you’re a trained psychologist,” N at said softly. Ingram flushed. “ Sorry. I’m oversensitive about gender is­ sues.” “ I don’t blame yo u ,” N at said. “ You were run through the mill because o f it during your trial. And I’m sure it’s beerj a m ajor issue here in prison.” Lynn looked down at the floor. “ Y es.” “ Will you look at this list, Lynn? I know you’ve maintained throughout that you never saw any of your assailants here at Grafton, and I understand very well why you’ve taken that stance— ” “ M eaning you don’t believe m e.” “ M eaning,” N at said, “ that I know the terrible risks involved if you ever nam ed names. And I’m not asking you to do that. But if there’s anyone at H orizon H ouse from G rafton who might pose a serious threat— ” Ingram looked up, her lovely blue eyes meeting N a t’s. “ If you okay my transfer, I’m not only going to be inside your institution, Superintendent. I’ll be on work-release, which means I’ll be out in ‘civilization’ as we affectionately call it here. Are there people

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outside who might want to harm me? People at Horizon H ouse? People in here? O f course there are. Who they are . . . H ow many— ?” Lynn shrugged. A shrug o f resignation. Acceptance. “ T o cer­ tain people I will always be a freak. W orse, a freak who m ade a conscious choice to become one. That m akes me deserving of their ridicule, their disgust, their revulsion, even their assaults. And then there are those people who, whether repulsed or not, are sexually drawn to the taboo I seem to represent to them. But the truth is, under no circumstances will I ever truly be a woman to them .” As she maintained eye contact, her beautiful face w as a study in earnestness. “ But I am a w om an .” “ A w om an at risk ,” N at w as compelled to add. A whisper of a smile flitted across Lynn’s lips. It took N at a few moments to realize Lynn’s smile w as m ost likely a result of N a t’s affirming that she’d identified Ingram as female. It w as true. N ow that N at had met the infam ous transsexual, she found herself rem arkably ^ c o n flic te d about Lynn Ingram ’s gender. N o t that it would make her decision any easier. “ Being at risk, Superintendent Price, is something I’ve had to make my peace with, something I will always have to live with, no matter where I finish up my sentence. I will do everything in my power to avoid the risks, but I can’t promise you, no matter w ho’s on that list, that I will be safe. I can only tell you that if I have to spend the next six months in a solitary cell twenty-three hours a day, seven days a week, I think I truly will go m ad. I suppose you’re thinking, ‘W hat’s another six months to someone w ho’s already done twenty-nine months, three weeks, and two days in protective custody— ?’ ” She paused, smiled fully, win­ somely. “ But w ho’s counting?”

five Dr. Ingram never behaved in an improper manner at the clinic. N ot ivith Matthew Slater. N ot with any o f her patients. N or with any members o f our staff. D (e x c e r p t

fro m

In g r a m

r

. H

a r r is o n

Bell

t r ia l t r a n s c r ip t )

" S U P E R I N T E N D E N T PRICE?"

“ Y es.” “ This is Dr. H arrison Bell. I’m the— ” “ I know who you are, D octor.” N at picked up the catch in the anesthesiologist’s voice. Oh, G od, something is wrong, she w as already thinking— fearing. “ Is it Lynn?” “ She was . . . attacked. She’s in the hospital. I don’t . . . I don’t know if she’s going to . . . m ake it. Christ, it’s all my fault. We were about to leave the clinic to get some lunch, but I had to finish up a report on a patient, so Lynn went on ahead to get a table— at this little Greek place she always eats in. Then, just

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as I w as halfway out the door, my wife called and w as all upset about our son Josh . The boy got into a fight at school. Boys do. He only got a day’s suspension, but my wife has this tendency to blow things out of proportion.” “ W hat happened?” N at had let the doctor prattle on this long because she w as feeling too short of breath to break in. And even as she asked, she w as thinking, Five weeks. Five weeks alm ost to the day since Lynn Ingram ’s transfer to Horizon H ouse. Five gloriously uneventful weeks. N at w as starting to actually think her fears for the inmate’s safety were, while certainly not un­ founded, greatly exaggerated. So much for that pathetically naive assessment. “ I couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes behind her. The thing is, there’s this shortcut in back of the pain clinic. Kind o f an alleyway, really. Cuts out a block. And what with the rain . . . I a lm o st. . . didn’t see her. I w as dodging puddles, looking straight down. G od only knows w hat it w as that drew my eye over to the D um pster.” He stopped. N at could hear a muffled cry. She waited silently for him to continue, her hand white-knuckling the phone. “ I saw her hand, ju st her fingers, really. Like she w as trying to pull herself out. If the Dum pster hadn’t been full, she’d never have . . . I’d never have known she w as in there. Christ, she was bleeding everywhere. All . . . cut up. Her chest, her face . . . even . . . I can ’t believe anyone could do such a . . . m onstrous thing. A m aniac . . . It had to be— ” “ What h ospital?” N at’s office door opened. Jack popped his head in. H e heard her last question. Opening the door fully, he immediately stepped inside, his hand gripping the doorknob— waiting, lines of con­ cern creasing his naturally furrowed brow.

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“ Boston G eneral.” “ And the police?” “ There are two detectives here. I w ould have called you sooner, but there were all these questions— ” “ I’ll be right over.” N at hung up the phone and jum ped from her chair. But a sudden rush o f dizziness slammed her back down. Jack rushed to her side. N at could feel his anxiety over­ riding hers, enough so that she could tell him what had hap­ pened. Which am ounted to very little information. “ I’ll g o ,” he said. Bilt N at w as back on her feet. N ot exactly steady, but less wobbly. “ Y ou can drive.” By the time she got into Ja c k ’s car, anger mixed with guilt had supplanted her panic.

Lynn Ingram w as still in the operating room when they got up to the ICU. She’d been under for a little m ore than ninety minutes, and there w as no indication of how much longer it would be. All they knew w as that her status w as still listed as critical. “ They” included Dr. H arrison Bell, Leo Coscarelli, his partner Mitchell O ates, Jack Dwyer, and N at. They’d been granted use of the doctors’ lounge just inside the ICU. After quick introductions, they all fell into a holding pattern. O f the five o f them, H arrison Bell w as the only one seated and the one visibly having the toughest time. N at had met the anesthesiologist on a couple of occasions prior to this afternoon, recalling him as a pleasant-looking, tidy man in his early forties. N ow Bell’s face w as puffy, the tip of his nose red, his dark brown hair tousled, his gray slacks dirt-smudged, his pale blue shirt and

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gray sports jacket rumpled and spattered with blood. Lynn In­ gram ’s blood. Oates leaned closer to Coscarelli, said something out o f N a t’s earshot, then exited the lounge. Leo w alked over to Bell, dropped down onto the orange molded plastic seat beside the doctor. “ We may have some more questions for you later.” Bell nodded grimly. “ Y o u ’ve got my home number as well as my office. Anything I can d o .” “ You staying here for a w hile?” Leo asked him. *

“ Y es,” Bell said without hesitation. “ I’ve had my nurse cancel all o f my afternoon appointments. Claire’s very upset about Lynn. Everyone at the clinic is horrified. Lynn w as very well liked.” Leo rested a hand on the doctor’s shoulder. “ D on’t count her out yet.”

.

T ears clouded Bell’s eyes. He hung his head. Jack Dwyer and N at were watching this interchange with in­ terest. Then Jack caught N a t’s eye. N at knew how her astute deputy’s mind worked. He w as thinking that the good doctor’s use o f the past tense— “ Lynn w as well liked” — might have been a slip of the tongue. The same thought had crossed N a t’s mind. N o doubt L eo’s as well. And if it was a slip, it could have been wishful thinking. Because if she pulled through, Lynn Ingram might well be able to identify her attacker. N at followed Leo as he headed out o f the lounge, noticing before she exited that Jack had taken the chair just vacated by Leo. Leo gave the nod to a uniformed cop stationed in the hallway. He had ordered a round-the-clock watch on Lynn. They were all

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worried that her assailant might make an attempt to finish off what he’d started. “ W ell?” N at asked Leo as soon as they passed the cop. He motioned for her to follow him out the electronic swinging doors that separated the ICU wing from the rest of the seventh floor. Once they got beyond those doors, Leo stopped, looked around. The area was empty. Then he looked at N at, but he was still not saying anything. N at felt his stare as a silent accusation. She’d asked for this. She w as the one w ho’d adam antly dismissed everyone’s-—includ­ ing L eo ’s— argum ents about the dangers of approving Lynn In­ gram ’s transfer to Horizon H ouse “ I know you’re beating yourself up, N atalie,” Leo said finally, putting his hand gently on her arm. “ D on ’t. This didn’t happen to her at Horizon H ouse. It happened on the street. And even if you hadn’t okayed her transfer and she’d remained at Grafton, what happened to her today could just as well have happened five months from now. After her release from G rafton .” The physical contact, more than Leo’s w ords, soothed her a little. “ D o you have any leads?” “ We don’t have much yet. N o w eapon so far. Our best guess, given the nature of the wounds, is some kind of hunting knife. W e’ve got a couple of our people canvassing the neighborhood. O ates is going back to the pain clinic to get statements from staff and get names of patients who were there at the time. CSI is going over the alley and that D um pster with a fine-toothed comb. It doesn’t help that Bell disrupted the crime scene when he moved Ingram. But if he hadn’t, we’d most likely be dealing with a hom­ icide right n ow .” N at swallowed hard. “ We still m ay.”

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“ I want to talk to Ingram ’s shrink. I’m hoping she told him something that will provide us with a lead.” “ I doubt you’ll get anything out o f him ,” she said. “ H e’s a by-the-books psychiatrist. Which means he’ll uphold confidenti­ ality to the bitter end.” She shivered as she said this, realizing how close Lynn Ingram w as to the bitter end. “ W e’ll get a court order, if it comes to that,” Leo said. He put his arm around her. “ I’ll be coming over later.” “ I’ll probably get home late.” “ I meant to H orizon H ou se.” “ Oh-” N at nodded. “ You need to talk to Suzanne.” He removed his arm, put his hands in the pockets o f his blue jacket. “ They’ve been room ing together at the center. They’ve rees­ tablished their friendship.” He hesitated. “ I think Suzanne’s go ­ ing to take this h ard .” N at said nothing, inwardly hating herself for the flash of jeal­ ousy she felt over his wanting to be there to com fort his child’s mother. As soon as Suzanne entered Horizon H ouse, N at should have cooled things with Leo. She knew dam n well it could be­ come an untenable situation. N at w as competing with one of her charges for the affections of a man who had been sexually and emotionally intimate with both of them. M aybe now w as the time to step out of the competition. M aybe Leo would be relieved if she did. “ She m ay know something, N atalie.” “ W hat?” N a t w as already feeling the ache o f separation. W as it only after deciding to break it off that she could allow herself to adm it just how much Leo Coscarelli had come to mean to her? “ I think we should talk to her together.” He cocked his head,

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observing N at closely. He had this knack for reading people. Her especially. “ Lynn may have shared some inform ation with Suz­ anne that could help us. At least give us some direction. Right now, w e’ve got zip to go on .” He checked his watch. “ Suzanne’s due back from w ork around six, right?” “ Y eah .” M eanwhile, N a t’s mind w as busy backpedaling. Never m ake personal decisions in the heat o f a crisis, she was thinking. And this certainly qualified as a crisis. O kay, so she w as giving herself a tem porary reprieve.

SIX

Fifty-two percent o f male-to-female transsexuals admit to having been victims o f violent crime— this is in the corhmunity at large. These are vidnerable people even without the stresses o f transition and the isolatioti of prison life. G e n d e r Id e n t it y St u d y

JACK DWYER WAS

alone in the ICU lounge, still seated in the same

molded chair, when N at returned. “ Any update on Lynn?” He shook his head. “ Where’s Bell?” she asked. “ M en’s room . Been there awhile. Bad case o f the ru ns.” “ That can happen when you’re upset.” “ O r when you’re scared shitless.” She sat down beside Jack . “ D id you learn anything useful from him ?” Jack scowled, his hard-edged features sharpening. “ Something

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about that d o c.” He glanced over at the doorw ay to make sure Bell w asn’t on his way back in. “ I think he had the hots for Ingram. M aybe going back a long time. Like when she w as first working for him. He visited her at Grafton. They wrote back and forth. I’d like to get a gander at some of his letters. ” “ H e w as on the phone with his wife while she w as being attacked.” “ So he say s.” “ It’s easily verified.” “ She w ouldn’t be the first wife to verify a husband’s lie.” , “ Even if her husband w as cheating on her?” He eyed N at in a disquieting way. A silent reminder that she had willingly lied for her husband during the W alsh investigation, even when Ethan had already left her for another woman. Even though her lie could have affected the outcome o f a murder case. What we w on’t do fo r love. O r w as it, What we w on’t do to delude ourselves? “ We can’t dism iss the attacks on Lynn at G rafton ,” N at said, eager to change the focus of the discussion. “ There could be a connection. A corrections officer who had today off, or called in sick, or quit the job. An inmate w ho’s out on parole.” “ Possible,” Jack adm itted begrudgingly. They both looked up nervously as a m iddle-aged wom an in a white lab coat entered the lounge. She gave them both a formal nod. “ I’m Dr. Ellen M adison. M s. Ingram is out o f surgery.” “ Will she pull through?” N at asked anxiously. “ She’s suffered multiple knife w ounds and a massive loss of blood. The next forty-eight hours will be crucial. If she does m ake it, she’s going to need extensive reconstructive surgery.” The doctor hesitated. “ T o her face, her breasts, and her pubic region. I’m not a detective, but I would say that these areas ap ­

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pear to have been the assailan t’s deliberate targets. There were some other superficial cuts to the patient’s extremities, but I be­ lieve those were acquired in her attempts to stave off the attack. ” “ All frontal cuts. So she m ust have seen her assailan t,” N at said. “ It would seem that w ay.” “ D o you know that she’s a transsexual?” Jack asked. M adison nodded. “ Dr. Bell informed us when she w as brought in .” “ Is she conscious?” N at asked. “ Can I talk to her?” “ N o , to both ,” the doctor said firmly. “ When— ?” “ N o t for another twenty-four hours, at the very earliest. I’m sure you realize that the psychological ramifications resulting from her facial and bodily disfigurement are likely to be quite severe. Is M s. Ingram currently under any psychiatric care?” “ Yes. She’s being treated by Dr. R oss V arda. H e’s with the Department of Corrections— ” “ I strongly suggest he be present if and when you are able to speak with M s. Ingram .” The “ if ” rang in N a t’s head. A death knell.

“ Y o u ’ve already heard?” Leo watched Suzanne closely. She nodded. “ One o f the salesgirls caught it on the news on her w ay home. She drove back to the store to . . . tell m e.” She brushed her hair from her face. N at could detect the tremor in her hand. “ Is she going to m ake it?” “ It’s touch and g o ,” N at said. “ Sit down, Suzanne.” Leo made the request.

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N at w as already seated behind her desk. Leo, who w as stand­ ing, waited for Suzanne to take a seat across from N at, then he took occupancy of the chair beside her. “ W hat can you tell us that might help us find out who did this to Lynn?” Leo asked. H is tone w as gentle. “ H ow do you know it w asn’t some random act? Some lunatic who spotted a . . . a beautiful w om an he’d never seen before, and . . . ” Suzanne looked down at the floor. “ W e’re not ruling out any possibilities,” Leo said. “ Lynn likes you, Suzanne,” N at broke in. “ I presume you like v

her.” Suzanne’s head popped up. “ I like her well enough. But I can’t help you. She didn’t say anything to m e.” “ N oth ing?” N at gave the w ord a distinctly sardonic note. Suzanne turned to Leo. “ You know what I m ean.” “ H ow did Lynn seem to you these past few day s?” he asked. Suzanne shrugged. “ Fine. She w as . . . happy. She loved her job. She loved being out o f t h a t . . . that cage. She never griped about any of the rules here. M ost o f us count the days until we’re on the stre e t. . . full-time, but Lynn just kind of took each day as a blessing.” Her hand went up to her face. Her fingers pressed into her eyes in an attem pt to stem the tears threatening to spill out. It w as clear to N a t that Suzanne H olden cared more about Lynn Ingram than she w as saying. “ D id Lynn ever talk about her boss, H arrison Bell?” Leo asked. Suzanne seemed surprised by the question. “ Bell? She says he’s brilliant. Y ou don’t think . . . ?” The tip of her tongue darted nervously over her bottom lip. “ Lynn w as horribly disfigured. Even if she pulls through, it’s

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going to be a nightmare for her,” N at said, ignoring L eo’s scowl at her bluntness. Suzanne shut her eyes. And then, as if the images playing in her m ind proved too disturbing, she opened them quickly. “ I don’t know who did it,” she said hoarsely. “ I swear I don’t .” N at could see beads o f sweat form ing above Suzanne’s lip line. She also saw Leo place a com forting hand on the inmate’s shoul­ der. N at tried not to let this get to her. But, of course, it did. “ I need a cigarette,” Suzanne said with an addict’s note of desperation in her voice. She gave Leo a pleading look. “ G o outside and have your sm oke,” N at said. There w as no sm oking in the building, but there w as a porch in front of the building where inmates and staff could light up. Leo w as not happy with N at. He w asn’t ready to dismiss Suzanne. But Suzanne w as more than ready. She w as on her feet and m aking a beeline for the door practically before the words were out o f N a t’s mouth. As soon as the door closed behind Suzanne, Leo w as on N a t’s case. “ Why the hell did you do that, N atalie? She w as just start­ ing to— ” “ Starting to come unglued,” she finished for him. There w as a bite in her voice, matching the bite in Leo’s. “ She knows som ething,” he said, his scowl etched across his brow. “ O f course she does. She knows plenty. She’s also scared.” “ She knows me well enough to know I’d never put her at risk .” “ H ow well is th at?” Leo didn’t look so much angry as disappointed.

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“ M aybe you shouldn’t be working this case, Leo. There’s a real conflict of interest here.” “ There’s a conflict all right,” he said tightly. “ But it isn’t m ine.” H e rose slowly to his feet. “ I’m going outside and talk to Suzanne some more. This is my case, N atalie. If you can’t handle that— ” He stopped, his expression softening. “ Sorry. I know you’re upset.” “ W e’re both upset,” N at said. H e touched her cheek. She placed her hand over his. “ H ow about after I finish up with Suzanne, we go grab some Chinese and have it over at your place?” Leo suggested. “ Sound g o o d ?” N at hesitated, dropping her hand from his. Since Suzanne’s transfer to H orizon H ouse, and the Coscarelli fam ily’s biweekly visits, N at felt a growing strain when she and Leo were together. “ Why don’t we see how . . . ? ”

„

Leo drew her to him, silencing the rest of her w ords with a brief but potent kiss. “ D o I have to arm-wrestle you n ext?” he teased. N at smiled. “ N o. I give.” “ G o o d .” H is gaze lingered on her, his expression turning se­ rious. “ I want this to w ork, N atalie. We have something here. I don’t want to let it slip through our lingers. ” “ Neither do I,” N at said. But she also knew that wanting something not to happen didn’t mean it w ouldn’t. Ja c k w as on his way into N a t’s office as Leo w as exiting. The two men merely nodded in passing, neither a fan of the other. Leo deliberately left the door open as he exited. Jack deliberately shut it. N at merely shook her head. “ Y ou catch the latest news flash ?” Jack asked.

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“W hat?” she asked, suddenly anxious. “ H eard it on the radio driving back here. Some reporter got to Jennifer Slater.” For a moment N at drew a blank. Then it came to her: M at­ thew Slater’s widow. H ow could she forget? During Lynn In­ gram ’s trial, Jennifer Slater had m ade headlines in the tabloids and w as on TV alm ost daily. N at remembered the w idow as a striking, rather than beautiful, w om an in her late thirties. A tall, elegant brunette with catlike eyes who oozed fine breeding and wealth. M atthew Slater, a working-class boy from South Boston, had m arried well. \ At no time dining those stressful days following M atthew Sla­ ter’s murder and, alm ost seven months later, during Ingram ’s five-week-long trial, had N at ever observed Jennifer Slater lose her poise. O f course N at had no idea w hat took place when the cam eras weren’t around. N o t that Jennifer Slater volunteered much in the way o f interviews. On the few occasions when she did m ake a statement, she vehemently maintained the position that her husband had been not only a victim o f cold-blooded murder, but of a perverse and unwanted seduction. “ W hat did Jennifer Slater have to say in the interview?” “ Basically that Ingram asked for it.” “ A sked for it? Asked to be mutilated? N early killed?” “ I don’t think there’s any love lost between those two w om en,” Jack said facetiously. N at sighed. “ I have to say I felt sorry for Jennifer Slater during the trial. Bad enough when a victim gets dragged through the mud, but when members o f the victim ’s family get dragged along as well, it’s horribly unfair.” “ I imagine it doesn’t do a hell o f a lot for any w om an’s self­ image to discover that her husband’s having an affair, not to

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mention with a transsexual. I’m sure Jennifer Slater took it es­ pecially hard. According to the reporter’s run-in before the Slater news bite, the w idow ’s become something of a recluse since her husband’s death. Spends m ost of her time at the family com ­ pound in M arth a’s Vineyard. Apparently her social life’s pretty much nil. She’s still involved in charity w ork, but when an ap ­ pearance at a fund-raiser or banquet is required, she usually sends her kid brother.” N at recalled the brother, Rodney Bartlett, a tall, thin-to-thepoint-of-gaunt young man who had been Jennifer Slater’s con­ stant com panion throughout the trial. Bartlett w as always trying to run interference for his sister with the media. But, as N at recalled, he rarely succeeded. N at never saw him without a scowl on his face. A scowl that deepened when the verdict w as handed down. Both he and his sister m ade it clear they would have been happy with nothing less than the death penalty for Lynn Ingram. Certainly a second-degree manslaughter conviction w as a far cry from what they considered justice. “ Sounds like Jennifer Slater’s still very bitter,” N at remarked thoughtfully.

N at w as on the phone to the hospital when Sharon Johnson rapped on her door and popped her head in. N at m otioned for her to step into the office. “ Thank you, D octor. Yes, give me an update anytime. D ay or night.” The receiver felt oddly weighty as N at set it back in its cradle. “ H ow is she doing?” “ Still unconscious. Still listed as critical.”

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“ Y ou look lousy,” Sharon said, but there w as a note o f clear affection in her voice. “ I feel w orse,” N at confided. A big adm ission for her. And one that she probably w ouldn’t have m ade to anyone else on her staff. As a superintendent who w as both female and not yet thirty-five, she felt compelled to present herself as a person in control o f her em otions when she w as at work. Away from w ork, too; only it w asn’t so easy in either case. “ I’m just about to leave for the d ay ,” Sharon said. “ H ow about com ing back to my place? Raylene’s m aking her signature frittata foi; dinner. And she’s just finished this incredible painting, a self-portrait, that she’d love to show yo u .” “ H ow about a rain check? I already m ade plans for tonight.” “ With L e o ?” Sharon asked, a half-smile on her full lips. “ I saw him outside on the front porch having a pow w ow with Suz­ anne.” “ I asked him to remove himself from the c ase.” Sharon gave a little laugh. “ Let me guess what his answer w a s.” N at rolled her eyes. “ H e’s not going to get much out o f Suzanne,” Sharon said. “ H e thinks he can .” “ Which is w hat’s eating at yo u .” N at gave her employment counselor an angry look. “ If Suzanne can tell us anything that will give us even a miniscule clue— ” “ T h at’s not what I m eant.” Sharon cut her off. “ You got this love triangle thing going, N at, and it’s ripping you ap art.” “ It’s not easy,” N at admitted. “ When is it ever?” “ D id anyone ever tell you, you should be a shrink?”

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“ Speaking o f shrinks, have you heard from Dr. V ard a ?” “ H e’s at the hospital. I spoke to him briefly before talking to the surgeon. H e’s pretty shaken u p .” “ I hope you mean V ard a,” Sharon teased. “ We don’t want a shaky surgeon.” N at m anaged a w eak smile. “ D id V arda say anything? About who might have attacked Lynn?” “ Anything Lynn might have said to him w as told under doctor-patient confidentiality.” N at understood V ard a’s position. Even respected it. But still, she found it excruciatingly frustrating. V arda might very well know the identity of the assailant. Or he might, at least, be able to make a solid educated guess. It would give them a lead. Som eplace to begin looking. “ And I gather you haven’t found anything in Lynn’s room that might give you a clue.” Sharon asked. “ Hutch did the search himself. N oth ing.” “ N o . . . scribblings? A diary, m aybe?” “ N o. W hy?” “Ju st that a couple of times I saw Lynn writing stu ff.” “ In a diary?” “ N o. It w as on loose sheets o f paper. She told me they were letters.” “ That m akes sense,” N at said. “ D oesn’t it?” “ I suppose. But I never spotted any envelopes. And one time I saw her slipping a piece of paper she’d been writing on into a kind of a loose-leaf binder. She caught me observing her, and she got all flustered. T old me she’d run out o f stam ps. I don’t know. There w as something . . . furtive . . . about her behavior.” “ If they were letters,” N at mused, “ who w as she writing to? When she w as at Grafton, the only person she maintained any

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Bell. And she

w ouldn’t need to write to him now. She’s with him at w ork every day .”

N at checked in with Hutch on her way out. Although he was officially off-duty, her head CO had opted to hang around for part of the night shift because o f the undercurrent of tension in the house— a direct result of the assault on Lynn Ingram. There was the feeling am ong the inmates that it could have been any of them. It w as the rare con who could say he or she had no enemies on the outside. N at certainly had never come across one. Hutch had been in charge o f the search of Lynn’s and Suz­ anne’s room . N at asked him if a loose-leaf notebook had turned up in the search. “ N ope. Ju st a Bible and a card. There w as an inscription in­ side the Bible: ‘T o Lynn, M ay G od’s blessing be with you always, Father Jo e .’ ” “ And the card ?” N at asked. “ It w as a birthday card. I checked her record. Ingram turned thirty-one on June seventeenth. So she must have got the card while she was still in IU at Grafton. I thought it w as interesting she took it with her when she came over here.” “ And it’s from . . . ?” N at asked impatiently. “ From the doc.” “ H arrison Bell?” Hutch shook his head. “ The shrink. V ard a.” He smiled wryly. “ Interesting, huh?” “ H ow did he sign it?” A shadow of disappointm ent fell across H utch’s broad face. N at knew her CO didn’t think much of the psychiatrist. Espe-

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d aily after that testy intake meeting on Ingram. “ N othing very juicy,” he adm itted. “Ju st, ‘Best wishes, Dr. R oss V ard a.’ ” “ I’d like to see the card. D id you confiscate it?” Hutch looked over her shoulder tow ard the front door, where Leo w as waiting for her. “ Your detective’s got it. And the Bible.” N o big surprise. “ D oes he have anything else?” “ There w asn’t anything else to turn over.” A little catch in H utch’s voice put N at on instant alert. “ So, what didn’t you show to him ?” H e shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “ Nothing connected to Ingram .” H is gaze again drifted down the hall to ­ w ard Leo. “ Let’s not play twenty questions, H utch,” N at said testily. “ There were some letters. Belonging to Suzanne Holden. From . . “ From L eo ,” N at finished for him. N ot that Leo had ever told her he wrote to Suzanne. H utch nodded. “ Y ou read them ?” N a t’s voice sounded raspy to her own ears. H er throat had gone dry. Hutch w as again looking over her shoulder. N at glanced back to see Leo heading tow ard them. “ I didn’t read them, N a t,” Hutch said quickly. But he’d obviously seen enough to know who had signed the letters. H ow many were there? H ow had Leo signed them? Best w ishes? N at doubted that. L o v e? She hoped not. “ I just got beeped,” Leo said, approaching them. “ M y part­ ner. There w as a bit of a ruckus over at the hospital. Seems Lynn’s mother showed up, demanding to see her so n .”

seven I think a lot about my folks in here. Especially that awful day when I finally got up the courage to tell them. Myv father raged and called me a pervert. But my mother broke down and sobbed, “ I’ve lost my boy,” L. L

W H EN LEO A N D

N at arrived at the ICU, R oss V arda w as conferring

with Ruth Everett in the doctors’ lounge. Mitchell O ates, L eo’s partner, w as waiting for them in the ICU waiting room. “ She goes by the name Everett?” Leo asked. O ates nodded. “ And M r. Everett?” N at asked. “ She came alone. D idn’t say anything about the husban d.” Leo glanced across the hall at the closed door to the doctors’ lounge. “ W hat else?” “ Like I told you on the phone, the m om w as on the verge of

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hysteria, and the psychiatrist pretty much took charge. G ot her calmed down som e.” “ H e knows her?” N at asked. “ I don’t think they ever met before, but he knew her name. Knew who she w as right off. I’m guessing Ingram must have talked about the m om in their therapy sessions.” Leo scowled. “ Y ou working on that court order?” “ Y eah,” O ates said. “ I told V arda w e’re gonna subpoena his records. He gave me a song and dance about being between a rock and a hard place, blah, blah, blah. I told him if he felt that w ay now, how w as he gonna feel if his patient kicked the bucket? Shrinks,” O ates muttered, like it w as a curse word.

Ruth Everett’s hands were clutched around a Styrofoam cup of coffee. When N at and Leo w alked into the lounge, she sprang out o f her seat, the coffee spilling over the rim. She looked an x­ iously in their direction, and N at realized she w as expecting them to be bearing news about her daughter. O r as Ruth saw it, her son. Leo introduced himself and before he could turn to introduce N at, R oss V arda m ade the introduction. Ruth Everett only now became aw are o f the spilled coffee. V arda gently took the cup from her hand and set it down on a nearby Form ica counter. “ Then you don’t have any w ord about L arry ?” Ruth Everett’s lips quivered. “ I . . . I mean . . . Lynn.” She said the name like she w as speaking a foreign language. W hat struck N at about Ruth Everett first and forem ost was that she w as an older but no less beautiful version o f Lynn In­ gram . Even now, under obvious distress, her generous lips pursed, her com plexion drained of color, a drawn look around

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her blue eyes— a shade of blue alm ost identical to Lynn’s— her beauty showed through. Certainly there were differences. A l­ though the mother w as a bit shorter, closer to five foot ten, a bit more slender, and her blonde hair longer than Lynn’s by several inches and threaded with random gray, there’d be no missing the blood relationship between the two. Leo glanced over at the psychiatrist. “W ould you mind w ait­ ing out in the visitors’ lounge, D octo r?” They all knew it w asn’t really a question. N at could see V arda w asn’t pleased with the dism issal. He w as even more distressed when Ruth looked nervously up at him. She clearly w asn’t v

pleased either. He patted her shoulder reassuringly.

.

“ W e’ll talk again later,” he told her. Ruth Everett did not look comforted. “ I . . . I can ’t stay . . . very lon g.” Anxiety w as etched in each word. “ There’ll be other tim es,” V arda told her with the soothing confidence of an experienced psychiatrist. “ Will . . . there b e?” Ruth clutched her hands together. After V arda reluctantly m ade his exit, Ruth sank back down into her seat. Leo pulled over a chair and sat down next to Ruth. N at took a seat across from her. “ H ow long has it been since you’ve seen Lynn?” Leo asked. “ I . . . I can’t get used to that. Calling him . . . Lynn. I named him Lawrence. After my father. Peter, that’s my husband, he never really liked the name Lawrence. He thought it w asn’t very. . . . ” She shut her eyes for a moment, shaking her head slowly. “ . . . very m asculine.” She opened her eyes and smiled ruefully at no one in particular. “ T h at’s a good one, isn’t it?” She flushed, looking anxiously at each o f them in turn. “ There w as nothing sissy about Larry. I swear there w asn’t. Y ou see

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these . . . these people on those disgusting tabloid show s, and they’re alw ays talking about how they played with dolls as chil­ dren, dressed up in their mother’s clothes, hid in the closet and slathered on m akeup— ” Ruth’s mouth set into a grim line. “ Larry w asn ’t like that. H e w as never like that. If he had been, his father w ould have killed him .” Tears spilled over and rolled, unheeded, down Ruth Everett’s cheeks. N at dug into her purse for a tissue, got up and brought it over to her. Ruth took it autom atically, but merely crumpled it in her hand. “ If he knew I w as here, he’d probably kill m e.” As soon as the w ords were out, her eyes darted anxiously over to Leo. “ I don’t mean that literally. Peter’s bark is worse than his bite.” She tried for another smile but it fell flat. “ H ow long has it been since you’ve seen Lynn?” N at repeated the question Leo had asked earlier. Ruth hesitated, eyes downcast. “ Ten years. It w as the summer right before he started his doctoral program in psychology at Boston University. The summer he left his w ife.” N at did a classic double-take. Wife? Lynn w as m arried? H ow come there w as no mention of this bombshell in the court or prison records? She shot a look over at Leo. He w as looking as taken aback as she was. “ H ow long w as Lynn m arried?” N at asked Ruth. Lynn’s mother w as nonplussed. “ N o. N o , you see, it w as when he w as still Larry. It w as only for a few months. I never even met her.” “ W hat w as her nam e?” Ruth shrugged, looking uneasy. “ W hat does it matter? It w as ages a g o .”

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“Ju st routine,” Leo persisted. “ Bethany.” “ L ast nam e.” “ I think . . . G rah am .” “ H ow did they m eet?” “ I don’t know. A party. She w as som eone’s cousin or friend or something from out o f town. I never really got the story straight. It all happened so fast. One day they’re dating, the next thing I know they eloped.” “ Bethany attended school?” “ N o , she worked in some restaurant.” “ W hat did she look like?” “ I never met her.” “ Never? That sounds hard to believe,” Leo said. Ruth w as getting increasingly agitated. “ Well, once, but just for a minute. She was on her w ay out. To w o rk .” “ Your husband m ust have been pleased,” N at said. “ Pleased?” “ T h at Larry m arried.” “ Oh. Oh yes. He w as. I adm it Peter worried about Larry. There’d been some kind of an incident right after high school.” She shifted uncom fortably in her chair. “ I don’t really know what happened. I w as aw ay visiting my mother that weekend. When I got home it w as obvious Larry and Peter had had a falling-out. Neither of them would tell me why. But then the tw o of them finally talked and after that, it seemed . . . okay. But there w as still some tension between them that lingered.” N at felt a wave of pity for Ruth, but an even sharper pang of pity for Lynn. H ow hard must it have been to live a lie? T o go so far as to get married? Clearly hard enough so that Lynn finally gave up the pretense.

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“ D id Larry tell you why he and Bethany broke u p ?” Leo asked. “ Yes. He told us that he finally confessed to her that he w as . . . a transsexual.” “ H ow did your husband take the new s?” “ He w as upset.” There w as a quiver in R uth’s voice. “ And w hat did Peter d o ?” Ruth com pressed her lips. “ D id it get physical, R u th ?” N at pressed. “ N o .”

*

N at didn’t believe her. She doubted Leo did, either. “ W hat happened after Larry’s revelation?” Leo asked. “ Larry left. And we m oved from D edham soon after . . . that. First to W orcester, then four years ago to W estfield.” “ And that w as your last contact with your so n ?” Ruth bit down on her trembling lip. “ Yes. I didn’t want it that way, but Peter . . . he said he w ould leave me if I even so much as gave Larry our new address. As far as he w as concerned, our . . . son w as . . . dead. Peter even had our name changed so Larry couldn’t find u s.” N at tried to keep it from showing, but she w as aghast at this m other’s willingness to cut off her son so willingly— her flesh and blood— because of her husband’s threat. If it were her, N at thought, she w ouldn’t have w aited for that unfeeling bastard to leave her, she would have left him. “ Are you m arried, Superintendent Price?” Ruth w as looking directly at N at. She felt her cheeks redden. “ I . . . w a s.” “ The simple truth is I didn’t want to be left alon e.” “ W hat became of Bethany?” Leo asked. “ I don’t know ,” Ruth said.

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“ Y ou never saw or heard from her again? Y ou don’t know where she went? Y ou have no idea— ” “ N o ,” Ruth snapped. “ I don’t even know why I mentioned it.” N at believed she never meant to mention the marriage. It had just slipped out. Mitchell O ates entered the lounge, his expression grim. Ruth gripped the arm s of her chair. “ W hat happened?” Leo asked his partner. “ Brain hemorrhage. She’s being rushed back into surgery.” Ruth began to m oan. “ M y baby. M y poor baby.”

eight Because much o f the patient’s post-operative time has been spent going through a traumatic trial for murder and then being in prison, she has had little opportunity as a woman to experience sexual relations. D (e x c e r p t

fr o m

THE IN S TA N T N A T ' S

r

. R

o ss

Va r d a

p r is o n e n t r y p s y c h o l o g ic a l r e p o r t )

dog H annah smelled the lo mein and ginger

chicken with string beans, she w as all over Leo. It w as a toss-up who spoiled H annah more, N at or Leo. Either way, H annah was definitely going to be sharing the Chinese. “ First you need to go ou t,” N at said, ruffling the d o g’s shaggy coat, then pulling her off Leo. The phone rang as N at w as putting the leash on H annah. She tensed, immediately thinking it w as the hospital, fearing the worst. Although Lynn had m ade it through the second surgery, her condition remained critical. And she w as still unconscious.

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N at gave Leo the nod and he hurried into the living room and picked up the phone. “ It’s Coscarelli. Yeah, go ah ead.” Something w as wrong. She could hear it in L eo’s voice. “ What happened?” she asked the instant he hung up, trying to sw allow down the lump o f panic in her throat. “ It’s R oss V arda. H e’s in the emergency room at Boston Gen­ eral. Someone m ugged him on his w ay hom e.” It took N at a couple o f seconds to absorb this unexpected and disquieting news. “ H ow . . . b ad ?” “ A good-size goose egg on his skull and a few cuts. N o t too deep. They’ll probably release him tonight.” “ Cuts? Leo— ” “ I know .” “ D id he see who it w as? Did he say anything?” “ N o. O ates is there now. V arda told him he w as attacked from behind; it w as dark, he blacked out. Look, I’m going to head over to the hospital. Sit tight. I’ll call as soon as I know anything. ” N at w as not about to hang around waiting to hear from Leo. After he left, she took H annah for a quick trip outside to do her business, then drove over to Boston General.

She m ade it to the hospital lobby just in time to see Leo and a shaken R o ss V arda stepping out o f one of the elevators. V ard a’s com plexion w as alm ost as white as the bandage over his right eyebrow. There w as a dazed look in his eyes. While he might not have been severely injured physically by the mugging, it didn’t require a shrink to see that, mentally, he w as seriously unnerved.

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Leo caught sight o f N at first. H e w asn’t particularly surprised to see her. She started tow ard them. It w asn’t until she w as less than a couple of yards aw ay that Varda actually spotted her approach­ ing. “ There hasn’t been a further update on Lynn?” he asked an x­ iously. “ N o ,” N at reassured him immediately. “ I cam e down to see if you were ok ay .” He forced a poor excuse for a smile. “ I’m fine. Ju st a b i t . . .” He .shook his head, a description of his state seeming to elude the doctor. “ Why don’t I give you a lift hom e?” N at offered. Leo looked even less happy. N at w as sure he’d been hoping to capitalize on the psychiatrist’s current wobbly state o f mind to try to pum p him for some inform ation about Ingram. V arda, however, instantly jumped at N a t’s offer. Probably be­ cause he didn’t anticipate that she, too, planned to pum p him, especially as this mugging struck N at, not surprisingly, as no mere coincidence. She voiced her theory aloud to V arda once they were settled in her car and heading over to his apartm ent across town in Boston’s upscale South End. O ut of the corner of her eye, N at caught V ard a’s hand moving to his bandaged wound. “ I’ve considered that possibility. T hat Lynn’s assailant sees me as a threat.” “ W ould he be right?” “ Even if I could break confidentiality, which I can’t, there’s no way I can know for certain who jumped out o f that alleyway. It w ould be pure supposition.” “ Which means you have a good idea.”

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“ I didn’t say that.” “ He might come after you again, R o ss.” “ D o you think I’m not worried about that? I’m em barrassed to adm it that I’m terrified.” “ There’s no reason to be asham ed of being afraid,” N at as­ sured him. “ Given w hat’s happened, I’m sure that, as a psychi­ atrist, you know that fear’s a healthy response.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “ I wet my pants. When I w as attacked.” “ Which is also a very com m on response.” “ Oh, yes, I know. It’s one thing to know the theory, another to— ” He pressed his hands to his face. They drove in silence for a few minutes. “ Are you in a great deal of p ain ?” she asked sympathetically. “ N o . I wish I w as. It would be a welcome distraction.” Varda gave her directions and N at turned onto St. Botolph Street, pulling into a parking spot not far from his building. V arda reached for the door handle, but then just left his hand resting on it. N at thought at first he wanted to tell her something. But then it hit her. He m ust be scared to go up to his apartment. Scared that maybe his assailant w as up there lying in w ait for him. “ W ould it be ok ay ,” N at asked, “ if I used your bathroom ? I kind o f rushed out o f my place when I heard you were injured and I haven’t had a chance to— ” “ N o problem .” She could hear the relief in the psychiatrist’s voice. And maybe just a hint o f gratitude. V ard a’s apartm ent w as on the third floor. There w as an ele­ vator, but V arda headed directly for the stairs. He led the way up to his door. N at heard his harsh gasp, but he w as blocking

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her view. He stepped aside so she could see the door w as ajar. “ I am fanatic when it comes to m aking sure my door is locked whenever I leave my apartm ent,” he told her in a raspy voice. “ Som eone’s broken in.” “ T hat som eone,” N at said in a whisper as she tugged him back tow ard the stairs, “ might still be there.” V arda’s color went from white to ash-gray as her w ords sank N at didn’t think he actually took a breath until they hit the street, running. Then again, neither did she.

“ N othing’s m issing?” Leo pressed. N at had phoned him as soon as she and V arda had gotten out o f the psychiatrist’s building. V arda shook his head numbly as he looked around at the chaos that w as once his pristine living room. Books had been ruthlessly shoved off bookcases, several o f them ripped and shredded; the large-screen television set w as sm ashed on the floor in front of the fireplace, where it w as joined by a stomped-on pair of high-end Bose mini speakers. The bedroom w as equally in disarray, all the clothes pulled from the closet and bureau drawers. The bed also had been pulled apart. The bathroom w as the worst. N o t so much because it, too, had been ransacked, but because of the red lipstick message scrawled across the medicine chest mirror: SH U T O R

y o u ’l l

keep

B E W O R SE O F F TH A N L Y N N .

your

m outh

N o question now

of the link between the break-in, the mugging, and the violent assault on Lynn. “ Any idea what the intruder w as looking fo r?” Leo persisted. “ N o .” “ H ow about Lynn Ingram ’s therapy file?”

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“ It’s locked in a cabinet in my office at C C I G rafton .” “ W e’re getting a court order for that file, Doc. I don’t need to w arn you that it would be a felony for you to destroy or in any way alter those records, seeing as how they’re the subject of a police investigation.” “ I’m fully aw are of that, Detective. And I assure you, police investigation or not, I would never alter or destroy a patient’s records.” “ D o you know who did this?” Leo asked the psychiatrist bluntly. V arda w as equally blunt. “ N o .” “ O kay, play it that way. It’s your neck.” V arda blinked rapidly, shaken by L eo’s blunt remark. But he said nothing. “ I don’t think it’s a good idea to stay here tonight. Anyone you can stay w ith?” Leo asked. N at w as about to offer her place, but V arda said he could stay with his sister. He quickly packed a few things and then Leo and N at escorted him outside and over to his car. “ Y ou sure you feel well enough to drive?” N at asked as Varda got behind the wheel. “ Yes, I’m okay. R eally,” the psychiatrist assured her. Leo turned to N at after V arda drove off. “ And where do I stay tonight?” “ I’m beat, Leo. H ow about if I reheat the Chinese tom orrow night?” H is eyes lingered on her face for several moments. “ It’s never as good reheated, N atalie. But I guess it’s better than not having it at all.”

nine I was treated like such a circus freak during my trial that I actually felt a weird relief when I was finally put away. How pathetically dumb I was. Being ridiculed and mobbed by the media was nothing compared to the constant abuse and worse I ’m suffering now. The night­ mare is only just beginning. L. I.

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past midnight when N at finally got home. As she

opened her front door, she autom atically braced herself, but H annah didn’t rush to greet her in her typical speed-demon fash­ ion, invariably careening into N at because her paw s had no grip­ ping pow er on the polished hardw ood floor. “ H annah? Here, girl.” N o t a bark. N o t a whimper. “ H ann ah ?” An edge o f anxiety crept into N a t’s voice. Som e­ thing w as definitely wrong. Could H annah have gotten sick? She’d seemed perfectly fine a couple of hours ago before N at had left to rush out to the hospital.

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It w as the absolute silence that alarm ed N at the most. G oose bumps prickled her arm s as she tried to rein in her escalating panic. She remained at the open door, cautiously sliding her hand against the wall for the light switch. She flicked it on, but the hallway remained dark. M aybe if she hadn’t just come from Ross V ard a’s ransacked apartm ent, she w ouldn’t immediately have thought the worst. But the break-in, the mugging, the warning scrawled on his m irror, were all playing havoc with her mind. And now H annah w asn ’t responding to her arrival, and the lights didn’t work. H ad someone broken in here as well? Pulled the fuses? Deliberately intending to keep her in the dark? At least the light from the hall corridor outside her apartment provided enough of a glow for her to see that the foyer appeared undisturbed. But the light didn’t carry into her living room . It could be a shambles. Or, even as she stood there at the door, it could be in the process of being torn apart. The assailant could be in her apartm ent right at that moment. H olding his or her breath much as she w as holding hers. N at knew the wise move— the only rational move— w as to turn on her heels and beat it the hell out of there, just as V arda and she had done at his place a short while ago. But V arda didn’t own a dearly loved dog who might at that very instant be lying somewhere in her apartm ent, maybe injured but still clinging desperately to life. H ow would she live with herself if she abandoned H annah when a little gum ption on her part could have saved her pet? “ H ann ah ?” she called out again, this time taking a couple of w ary steps inside the apartment, still leaving her front door wide open so she could m ake a fast getaway if she had to. Hopefully

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she w ouldn’t have to. H opefully, if she did have to run, she w ouldn’t be impeded in her escape. “ H annah? Here, girl. Where are you, girl?” N at listened acutely for the faintest whimper. N aturally, she w as also listening for any other sounds. Like footsteps, creaks, an intruder’s hushed breathing. If someone w as lying in wait for her, he or she had certainly received warning that she w as there. She knew it w as completely foolhearty to imagine her presence might scare an intruder off, but she couldn’t help hoping it might. She took a couple more steps inside. “ H ann ah ?” If her dog was dead N at w as seriously going to lose it. She w as already biting back tears. She loved that dog. Unequivocally. Uncondi­ tionally. She m oved cautiously tow ard her living room. Unfortunately, there were no overhead fixtures in there. In order to discover whether all of the lights were not in working order, she w ould need to m ake her way alm ost halfway into the room to a lamp sitting on an end table next to her couch. At least, it had been there when she’d left that morning. She flashed back on the chaos of what had once been V ard a’s assuredly tidy, orderly living room. She took small steps, fearing that she might trip over som e­ thing. W orse, over someone. Someone like H annah. I f you harm ed Hannah, you shit, I ’ll m ake you so sorry— But her path w as clear. N othing on her floor that shouldn’t be there. The brass lam p with the Tiffany-esque glass shade w as right where it w as supposed to be. W ords couldn’t express the relief N at felt when she pulled the metal chain and the light ac­ tually went on. She silently said a prayer of thanks to Thom as Alva Edison and his brilliant invention.

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H er living room appeared untouched. Her morning m ug of coffee w as still on her coffee table. N o t a chance in a million that H annah w as so dead to the world that she w ouldn’t respond. Unless . . . Unless she literally w as dead to the world. N at started frantically racing around her apartm ent hunting for H annah, mindless o f potential danger rather than fearless of it. Like a wild wom an, she was throwing open drawers and clos­ ets, crawling under beds, chairs, sofas. She had to find her dog. D ead or alive, she had to find her. H annah was a full-grown, sixty-pound golden retriever. If she w as in that apartm ent, there w as no place she could be hiding that N at w ouldn’t unearth her. It w as only as she approached the closed door to her bath­ room that N at hesitated. W as she, like V arda, going to find a warning scribbled on her mirror? W as Lynn’s assailant afraid she’d worm his identity out of V arda? O r figure it out for herself? H ad he left her a scrawled m essage— or something worse? Gruesome im ages o f H annah lying spraw led on her tile floor, cut up, dead, or dying, raced across N a t’s mind. As she cupped the doorknob, she could feel a violent tremor shooting from her palm right up her arm. She forced herself to turn the knob and crack the bathroom door open, but she was having trouble opening it wide enough to see what w as inside. For several m oments, she clutched the knob as though it were her lifeline, and stood there listening. Silence except for the escalating beating o f her heart. She braced herself— like that w as really possible— and flung open the door. The only object on her tile floor w as the mintgreen bath towel she’d used that morning. H er gaze shifted to her closed floral shower curtain.

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Cursing every horror film she’d ever seen where the heroine yanks open her shower curtain either to come face-to-face with a gruesome body or an equally gruesom e killer, N at did precisely that. Other than a faint ring around her tub, there w as nothing to be seen. There w as only one other conceivable place in there where H annah might be. Even though her wicker hamper didn’t feel heavy enough to be concealing a fifty-pound dog, N at top­ pled it and emptied her dirty laundry out on the floor just to m ake sure. Ten minutes later, she w as standing in the middle o f her kitchen, cupboard doors yawning open, having yanked out all her pots and pans from the shelves in the unlikely chance H annah had som ehow m anaged to wedge herself deep into the back of the pantry— or som eone had m anaged to put her there. N o sign o f her. Absolutely no sign. N or had N at discovered the slightest indication of a struggle having gone on anywhere in the apartment. T ears stung her eyes as N at thought about w hat a trusting soul H annah w as. H ow she loved people. Kids especially, but women, men, too. Give her a smile, a vigorous pat and she was your friend. Give her a treat and she’d go anywhere with you. T hat w as the only conclusion N at could draw. The intruder had m anaged to get into her apartm ent and steal off with H an ­ nah. Her dog had been kidnapped. But how had the intruder gained entry into her apartm ent? N at had checked all the doors and w indow s by that time. N o sign of forced entry. And the only people with keys to her apart­ ment were Leo and her sister. Leo used his key occasionally. Rachel, never. N at remained standing there, trying to m ake sense of things, when she heard scratching sounds. Then a short spate o f barks.

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Heedless of possible danger, she went racing out of the kitchen and down the hall tow ard her entry foyer. “ Hannah? H annah, girl?” There w as only silence now. Emptiness. It was like she’d dreamed the barks. A few feet from her front door, she stopped short. The door w as shut. N at knew— she w as positive— she’d left it wide open. She’d even glanced at the open door several times as she w as running from room to room hunting for her dog. Someone had been here. M om ents ago. Someone had been there with H annah. N at w as certain o f it. But why had the dognapper come back? T o get her? But then, why disappear again? It m ade no sense. N at darted the few feet separating her from the door and yanked it open just in time to see the elevator doors sliding shut at the end of the hall. She raced to the windows of her living room that looked down on the street, hoping to get a glimpse of her dog and the dognapper— at the very least, enough of a de­ scription o f the bastard to give the cops a lead. Endless minutes passed as she stood at her open window with her gaze fixed on the street. N o one exited. N o t man nor beast. H ad the elevator gotten stuck? Could the kidnapper have taken H annah up to the roof? O n the vague chance that they might still use the main en­ trance, N at remained stubbornly at her post for a good five minutes longer. Still no sign of anyone going or coming. M aybe she had imagined it. M aybe she w as losing her mind. The rush of adrenaline that had kept her going up to that moment, deserted her. She felt drained dry. She couldn’t even

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work up the energy to cry. N um b with despair, she sank to the floor beside her window and leaned against the wall. T hat w as where she w as when her front door burst open a good ten minutes later. Before N at could even gather the strength to react, she saw Leo and tw o uniformed cops, all three with w eapons drawn, charge into the living room. “ W hat— ?” This didn’t make any sense at all. Why w as Leo here? H ow had he known something w as wrong? Leo m ade a beeline for N at, the uniforms cautiously scanning the space, guns at the ready. H e knelt beside her, grasping hold of her trembling hands, concern and anxiety sweeping across his features. “Jesus, N atalie, are you okay? Are you hurt? T alk to me. W hat happened?” “ I . . . It’s . . . It’s H annah, Leo. H annah’s . . . ” And that’s as far as she could go. H er bottom lip w as quivering, and she knew if she went on, she’d break down completely. She w as fighting it desperately. Bad enough to feel so vulnerable. W orse to show it. “ Is she all righ t?” an anxious and fam iliar voice called out. A voice accom panied by a series o f low whimpers. N o t waiting for a response, Rachel rushed in, doing her best to restrain the large dog struggling to break free from her firm hold o f the leash. “ H annah. Oh, H an n ah ,” N at cried out. And then the dog w as running to her, careening into her, lap­ ping her, barking, and N at w as holding H annah so tight it was a wonder the dog could breathe, much less continue to bark joy­ fully. “ H ann ah .” N at cried her name again as she buried her face in H annah’s luxuriant golden hair. There might have been a hap­ pier m oment in her life, but if there w as, N at couldn’t remember it.

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“ Oh, N at, I am so, so sorry.” It w as nearly one in the morning. Leo and the tw o uniforms had gone. H annah had settled herself com fortably on the sofa beside N at, her head resting contentedly in her lap. Rachel was fussing with the tea she had insisted on m aking for them, which N at didn’t want. “ I didn’t think,” Rachel went on as she spooned a heaping teaspoon of honey into each of the mugs. “ I must have gotten here no more than ten minutes before you arrived. I heard H an­ nah barking frantically inside the apartment. I thought you w ouldn't mind if I let m yself in.” She looked over at N at for reassurance that her assum ption w as true. N at m anaged a weak smile. “ And then H annah w ouldn’t settle down. She kept huddling by the door. I realize now she w as probably just waiting for you to come home, but I thought she needed to go out. So I took her for a walk. And then when we got back . . . well, I saw the door wide open, and I knew I certainly hadn’t left it that w ay . . . I w as particularly careful to lock it, as a matter of f a c t . . . ” As N at listened to Rachel she could alm ost laugh, it w as all m aking such ridiculous sense. “ So, I panicked. I thought someone had . . . broken in . . . Then I heard noises and w as certain the intruder w as still in here.” Rachel shivered visibly. “ Really, N at, I just wish you’d find yourself a nice, safe career that didn’t put you in the middle o f packs of hardened crim inals.” An old refrain o f her sister’s. One that she’d sung even more often since the W alsh incident. Rachel w as stirring the honey vigorously into the tea. “ So I called the police. T old them it was an emergency involving Su­

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perintendent N atalie Price and to get ahold of Leo Coscarelli on the double. I waited down in the lobby for them .” Which explained why N at never saw H annah and her “ kid­ napper” exiting the building. Well, at least that meant she hadn ’t been hallucinating. “ Leo wasted no time getting here.” Rachel handed her a mug. N at took it only because her sister seemed so desperate to do something for her. “ He looked relieved but a bit disappointed when he left,” Rachel said. “ I hope it w asn’t because o f m e.” “ I don’t follow ,” N at said. “ Leo. W anting to spend the night. N o t staying because of m e.” “ I t . . . It w asn ’t because o f you, Rachel.” “ O h .” There w as the faintest hint o f a question in her words. “ It’s com plicated. Because of the investigation into the assault on one of my residents— ” “ Lynn Ingram. The transsexual who w as . . . cut u p ?” N at nodded. “Jak ey ’s mom is . . . Lynn’s room m ate.” Rachel had met L eo’s little boy a few months back, at the Children’s M useum . She w as there with her three kids and their nanny. Leo and N at were there with Jakey. They ended up spending the af­ ternoon together. It w as nice. It felt like they were all . . . family. Thinking back on that day now, N at felt this awful wrenching in her gut. “Jak ey ’s m om is . . . serving tim e?” N at saw the look of shock and reproach on her sister’s face. Shock, no doubt, because Jak ey ’s m om was a convict. Reproach directed at N at for never having shared that startling fact. N at felt a pang of guilt, but she w as too drained to let it get to her. Besides, now that her panic had been put to rest, her focus

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shifted to the reason why her sister had showed up at her apart­ ment tonight in the first place. N at saw Rachel stiffen as she put that question to her, but Rachel didn’t respond. Instead, she sipped her now-tepid tea. “ Are the children ok ay ?” N at asked, although she couldn’t imagine Rachel w ouldn’t have said something by now if one of them w as ill or if something bad had happened to any of them. If N at hadn’t been through so much traum a that night, she’d have guessed immediately w hat it m ust be. “ Rachel, what is it? W hat happened?” “ He left m e.” N at had to constrain herself from adding, Again. She wished Rachel would sound angry instead of disconsolate. N at only hoped the bastard would stay aw ay this time. G ood riddance to bad rubbish. “ He says he still loves me, but that it’s . . . it’s all too "much for him .” “ W hat exactly does he mean by ‘all’ ?” Rachel fought back tears. “ He didn’t say. I didn’t ask. W hat does it matter? H e doesn’t want to be married anymore. He wants his freedom. He w ants— ” She com pressed her lips. “ I sup­ pose there’s another w om an .” N at more than supposed it. “ I just had to . . . get out o f the house. I needed time to . . . I don’t know. I j u s t . . . ” “ It’s fine, Rach. I’m glad you came here.” “ I told Anya I w as going to spend the night with you. I know I have to explain to the children, but I’m just n o t . . . ready yet. And I didn’t think I could face them in the morning w ith o u t. . . cracking up. That w ould be so awful for them .”

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“ Y ou m ade a good decision, R ach .” N at patted her sister’s shoulder. Rachel’s eyes brimmed with tears, but she m anaged a weak smile. “ Y o u ’ve been through it, too, tonight. I’m sorry about H annah, N at. I should have thought— ” “ Forget it. I’m glad you’re here. I could use the com pany.” N at nudged her sister gently tow ard her. It didn’t take much coaxing before they were hugging. After a few m oments, Rachel still in her embrace, said, “ Oh, I alm ost forgot. There w as an envelope on your floor just inside th f front door. I put it in the bowl on your hall table.”

It w as only after N at had m ade sure that Rachel w as sound asleep in her guest room that she ventured back into the foyer. The plain white envelope w as, as Rachel had said, in her shallow blue-and-white Delft pottery bow l on her entry table, resting on top o f the mail. The envelope w as blank. N at could feel her pulse racing, her throat clogging up. Even the air in the apartm ent felt different. Thicker. Colder. H ow could such a nondescript item hold so much terror? A part of N at wanted to snatch it up, rip it open, and get it over with. Whatever “ it” was. Another part of her wanted to forget it existed. Oh, for her sister’s talent at denial! But in the end she could neither push it from her memory nor open it on the spot. The “ special delivery” w ould have to be treated as potential evidence. The police would need to examine the envelope and whatever w as contained inside. N a t’s guess was they w ouldn’t find incriminating fingerprints. Even the least

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savvy of criminals knew to wear gloves. But they weren’t always sm art enough to remember not to lick the envelope closed. Saliva might tag a person through D N A testing. N at went into the kitchen to get a plastic bag and a pair of tongs, checking the clock on the stove. It w as nearly two in the morning. She w asn’t going to call Leo at that hour. The poor guy had looked em otionally and physically spent when he’d left her apartment. He needed som e sleep. So did N at.

ten D on’t I have the right to give, to love, to be loved in return? If only I could make people understand that my desires aren’t perverse, but natural longings. L. I.

IT W A S A

few minutes before eight in the morning when Rachel,

wearing one o f N a t’s white cotton nightgowns, groggily entered the kitchen, “ Y o u ’re dressed already,” Rachel said, a touch o f disappoint­ ment in her voice. “ Yes, and just about to leave, I’m afraid .” N at w as at the sink, taking a last sw allow o f coffee and then quickly rinsing the cup under the faucet. “ You have to be at the center so early?” “ Well . . . I want to stop at the hospital first. T o check on Lynn Ingram .” N at w as also meeting Leo there. She’d called him

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a few minutes ago and told him about the envelope. He w as ready to drive right over to her apartm ent, but N at w as deter­ mined to keep her sister in the dark about w hat might well turn out to be a warning sim ilar to the one left on Dr. V ard a’s m ed­ icine cabinet. Rachel had enough to worry about without N at adding further to her troubles. “ W ould you like me to go with y o u ?” Rachel asked. “ Go with m e?” “ T o the h ospital?” “ Oh, no. N o. Thanks, Rach. But look, stay here, have some breakfast, shower, relax. And I’ll tell you what. I’ll try to clear up my schedule so we can have lunch together. I’ll call you later. W hat do you say ?” “ Sure. All right.” But she didn’t sound very enthusiastic. “ Rach. It’s going to be ok ay ,” N at said softly. She nodded. But N at knew Rachel didn’t believe that for a second. W ho could blame her? N at certainly couldn’t. She’d been through it herself. When Ethan had w alked out on her, she’d thought she’d never get over the pain, the anger, the shame, the terrible feeling o f having failed to hold on to her man. It had happened over a year ago, and even now N a t couldn’t really say it w as okay. Ju st that it w as more okay than it had been twelve months ago. Certainly, twelve months ago, N at w ouldn’t have imagined she’d ever let herself risk getting so emotionally involved with another man. And look where that involvement had gotten her.

“ Y ou ’d m ake a good surgeon,” N at said as she watched Leo meticulously extract the folded sheet o f paper from the plain

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white envelope using a pair of eyebrow tweezers. “ It’s the rubber gloves,” he said, trying to inject a lightness into his tone. H e didn’t succeed. They were alone in the doctors’ lounge just outside the ICU. Leo had locked the door so they w ouldn’t be disturbed. After putting the now-empty envelope in an evidence bag, he unfolded the sheet o f white business-size paper. N at w as standing right beside him, already picturing in her mind the w ords o f warning. A gasp escaped her lips as she saw the open sheet of paper. There were no w ords written on it. Instead, N at w as viewing something far worse. A crude ink drawing of a w om an’s face. Only, where the eyes should have been, there were empty sockets colored in with red ink. A half-dozen red lines had been slashed across the nose. And the m outh— the mouth w as yawning open. And the tongue— w hat w as left o f it— w as indicated by a very jagged red line. “ It looks like something a demented child might draw ,” N at said once she’d gotten over the initial shock and horror o f it. Leo looked over at her. “ Y ou o k ay ?” “ Fine,” she lied, glad she w as wearing a long-sleeved blouse so Leo w ouldn’t spot the goose bumps decorating her arms. Leo eyeballed her. “ Will it do any good for me to tell you to back o ff?” “ Com e on ,” N at said. “ Let’s go check on Lynn.” Leo grabbed her by the shoulders. “ At least be careful, N a ­ talie. D on ’t go off on your own, half-cocked. Can you prom ise me that m uch?” “ I prom ise.” Leo didn’t look convinced. Smart man.

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Lynn’s status remained critical and she was still unconscious, but the surgeon felt it w as a good sign that there had been no further deterioration since the second surgery. Leo took off, anxious to get N a t’s missive to the lab for analysis, but the truth w as neither of them w as holding out much hope that they’d get a lead from it. N at w as about to head off as well when she spotted a familiar face over at the ICU nurse’s station. She walked over. “ H i. D o you remember m e?” The pretty young Asian nurse looked up from a medical re­ port she w as reading and gave N at a distracted look. But within seconds* recognition dawned. “ Superintendent Price.” The last time N at had seen Carrie Li w as over a year ago when the nurse w as working in the emergency room. She’d had the misfortune to be the nurse w ho’d tended to Dean Thom as W alsh after he’d slashed his wrists at H orizon H ouse. Carrie had w alked into his cubicle to administer a hypodermic injection for pain and ended up being grabbed by the inmate and taken as his hostage. It w as only after N at had m anaged to convince W alsh she w as a much better hostage than the terrified young nurse, that he had made the exchange. N at could see from Carrie L i’s expression that her sense of gratitude remained as fresh now as it had been on that fateful day. After a brief bit o f chitchat, N at asked the nurse if she w a s . due for a coffee break anytime soon. Carrie checked the large clock on the wall behind the station. “ I can meet you down in the cafeteria in fifteen m inutes.”

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Carrie cupped her slender hands around her m ug of tea. “ I took a call at a little past eight this morning. At first he w ouldn’t identify himself. When I told him we could only give a status report on the patient to immediate family, he said he w as the patient’s father.” Carrie looked across at her. “ T h at’s how he put it. ‘The patient’s father.’ N o t ‘Lynn,’ not ‘my daughter.’ ‘The patient.’ ” N at w asn’t surprised at Peter Everett’s choice of w ords, but she w as surprised he’d called. O f course, she had no w ay o f knowing if it w as actually him. Although, again, his choice of w ords tended to lend credibility. N at wondered if Leo had al­ ready been in contact with Lynn’s father. “ I don’t think he’s ever adjusted to having a transsexual child,” N at commented. Talk ab ou t an understatement. “ I don’t imagine it would be an easy thing to accept.” “ N o ,” N at agreed. “ N o t easy.” She paused for a moment and then asked, “ H ow did he sound on the phone?” Carrie took a small sip o f her tea. “ Uncom fortable, first and forem ost. But I sensed concern.” “ And when you told him she w as still listed as critical?” “ He muttered a form al ‘thank you’ and abruptly hung u p .” “ H ave there been any other calls?” Carrie seemed suddenly distracted, her gaze drifting aw ay from N at. “ W hat is it?” N at asked. “ There w as this w om an over at one of the tables near the door . . . she looked fam iliar.” Even as N at turned to see who it w as, Carrie said, “ She left. I could sense her watching us. As soon as I caught her eye, she popped up and took o ff.” N at spotted a cup o f coffee and an untouched muffin at an

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empty table. “ W hat did she look like?” she asked. “ Tall, thin, blonde hair down to her shoulders, very pretty. M aybe late twenties, or at least she looked it from here. Defi­ nitely patrician.” N at scowled. The first w om an who came to mind w as Jennifer Slater. But Slater w as closer to fifty than thirty. Still, a good face­ lift . . . N at wished she’d caught a glimpse of her. “ If you spot her again— ” “ I’ll let you know ,” Carrie said. “ And I’ll try to find out who she is. I know I’ve seen her somewhere before. M aybe it’ll come to m e.” She shrugged. “ Anyway, as to phone calls, I haven’t personally taken any others besides Lynn’s dad, but I did check the Ingram call-in sheet before I came dow n.” Carrie pulled out a slip of paper from the hip pocket of her crisp white uniform. “ L ast night at eleven fifty-two, Dr. H arrison Bell called. H e called again at a little past seven

a .m

.

Dr. R oss V arda called at eight

this morning. Lynn’s mother called right after the psychiatrist. Oh, and a priest called at nine-twenty

a .m

.

. . . a Father Joe.

There were also two unidentified calls noted— one at ten-fifty last night, another at shortly past nine

a .m

.”

She looked up from the paper. “ I w as at the nurse’s station when that last call came in. Janice Bailey, the head nurse on duty, took it. Janice said it w as a w om an caller but she w ouldn’t iden­ tify herself. When Janice told her she couldn’t give out any in­ form ation, the wom an hung up. She must have been angry, because Janice said she slammed the phone down hard .” N a t’s eyes strayed to the empty table where a cafeteria worker w as gathering up the muffin and coffee. “ H ow about any visi­ to rs?” “ N one so far. But it’s early. And only family are being allowed in.”

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N at w as walking up the concrete w alk to H orizon H ouse later that m orning when som eone came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. She nearly jum ped out o f her skin. Then she spun around, stepped back, and shot her fists up, all in defensive mode. The young m an— tall, husky, dark-haired, handsom e enough to be a movie actor— looked alm ost as alarm ed as she m ust have looked. “ Superintendent Price? I’m Bill W alker o f W BBS’s evening news. I’m terribly sorry if I— ” N at dropped her arm s to her side, but she w as feeling no less defensive. The media. Why were they always around when things were going to shit— they were sw arm ing all over her during the W alsh incident— but never when there w as good news to share? For months N at had been trying to get people from the media to run a story on H orizon H ouse that focused on its positive goals and achievements. Every other day, it seemed, stories were p o p ­ ping up on the front pages about prison riots, rape behind the w alls, the escalating recidivism rate, the need for stricter sen­ tencing, a call for m ore high-security prisons. N at wanted people out in the community to read about program s that focused on rehabilitation, program s that gave inmates concrete skills as well as counseling so they could return to the community as lawabiding, tax-contributing citizens. The problem w as there weren’t enough program s inside the w alls, and fewer outside them, that emphasized rehabilitation. Those kinds of program s took money and support, both of which were sorely lacking. But good news didn’t seem to be much o f a draw for the

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m edia. It didn’t sell papers or m ake for high television and radio ratings. “ I’d like to talk to you about Lynn Ingram, Superintendent.” “ I’m not giving out any statements, M r. W alker.” N at abruptly turned aw ay from him and continued walking up the path. “ I’m the reporter who interviewed Jennifer Slater yesterday. M atthew Slater’s w idow .” She stopped and turned back around. He smiled faintly. “ And I’ve got an interview with M rs. Sla­ ter’s brother, Rodney Bartlett, that’s going to air at eleven this morning. I brought the tape along if you want a sneak preview.” “ Com e inside.”

. . that M att told Jen there w as this freak who was stalking him— ” “Is that the actual word M atthew Slater used, Mr. B artlett? ” “Stalking? Absolutely. ” “N o. I m eant— ‘fr e a k / ” There w as a brief hesitation. N at glanced over at the reporter, who had just gone up a notch in her estimation o f him as an interviewer. “ What else w ould he c a ll. . . her? ‘H im ’? ‘It’? ” “B u t I thought M attheiv Slater didn’t know Lynn Ingram ivas a tran ssexu al.” “Because that’s w hat she said at her trial? M att knew, all right. And that’s why he stopped going to that pain clinic. Once he found out, he wanted absolutely nothing more to do with the freak ."

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“B u t before your brother-in-law found out, he did see her outside o f the pain clinic. ” “M att and my sister had a very solid m arriage, Mr. Walker. It was built on devotion and trust. ” “ You didn’t answ er my question, Mr. B artlett.” “I f they were seen together, I can assure you it was completely innocent. ” W alker paused the tape. “ If you recall, at Ingram ’s trial, sev­ eral witnesses gave testimony about seeing Ingram and Slater to ­ gether in public places— a rom antic restaurant on Charles Street, a bar near the clinic, and the Slater m aid gave a statement about Ingram 'com ing to his home on several occasions for ‘pain treat­ m ents.’ ” H aving recently gone over the trial notes, N at remembered the m aid’s statement in particular— the m ost meaningful part of which w as that Jennifer Slater w as never at home during these “ professional” home visits.

.

W alker resumed the tape. “ Your sister believes Lynn Ingram go t what w as coming to her. I ’m speaking abou t the recent attack, not her m anslaughter conviction. ” A harsh laugh. “M anslaugher. I guarantee you, if Ingram was your typical grotesque-looking transsexual, he’d have go t what he deserved. H e should have been charged with and sentenced for first-degree murder. My sister go t no justice. She w as de­ stroyed by this monstrosity. ” “D estroyed?’’ “D o you have any idea o f the humiliation she suffered? Friends— let’s say people she thought were friends— dropped her like she had leprosy. Ju st when she needed all the support and com fort she could get. Jen w as abandoned. Even members o f our own family avoided her. ”

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“But you stood by her through thick and thin.” “ You’re dam n straight I did. I f I hadn’t, she probably w ouldn’t be here today. ” “Are you saying she might have killed herself.? ” There w as a longer pause. N at w as listening intently. “I don ’t want to betray my sister’s trust.” W alker hit the

o ff

button. “ T h at’s pretty much it. H e danced

around all the rest o f my questions. But I did some digging. Ac­ tually, I haven’t been to bed yet.” H e stretched languidly. “ And what have you found ou t?” W alker tapped his fingers on the top o f the m ini-tape re­ corder. “ N ow we’re at the moment of truth, Superintendent.” He slowly lifted his eyes to her face. “ The cops can track down whatever you’ve unearthed, M r. W alker.” “ Yes, they can. I guess it depends on how patient you are, Superintendent.” N at felt disquietingly transparent— the reporter had so easily spotted that patience w as not one of her virtues. “ All right, I’ll m ake a brief statem ent,” she conceded, know ­ ing that Leo was going to have her head for agreeing to this. He was rightfully big on keeping the media at bay during an inves­ tigation. The waters got muddied enough without leaks, misin­ form ation, and biased slants. “ T hat’ll be fine. For n ow ,” W alker added pointedly. N at let it slide, figuring she’d deal with later, later. W alker popped in a new cassette tape and hit

reco rd

.

N at not only m ade her statement about Lynn Ingram, model inmate, she also tried to make the m ost of it by publicizing the many benefits o f prerelease program s such as H orizon H ouse. When she went into overdrive about the need for funding, et cetera, W alker stopped the tape.

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“ I think we can skip the serm on.” She arched an eyebrow. “ For now, anyw ay.” This garnered a smile from the reporter. “ So what did you dig up, M r. W alker?” “ Bill. Every time you say M r. W alker, I feel like my father. And believe me, F d just as soon not feel like him .” “ O kay, Bill. So w hat did you dig u p ?” “Jennifer Slater spent three weeks in a private hospital-cum sanatorium in M arch of ninety-eight. T hat w as less than a month after the trial.” “ And it didn’t hit the p ap ers?” “ She entered under an assum ed name. And the place is pricey and private with a capital P. Fortunately, I have a few friends in powerful positions who I can lean on .” “ So, she w as in this sanatorium . A nd?” “ She sw allow ed a bottle of sleeping pills. According to my sources it w as more than merely a cry for help. She w as trying to kill herself. And not for the first tim e.” “ She attempted suicide before her husband’s m urder?” “ Around four years ago, Slater’s devoted hubby had a brief fling with one of the associates in his office. A pretty young tax lawyer by the name o f A m anda Bergman. A couple o f months into it, A m anda w alked into Slater’s office and handed in her resignation. She w as not only leaving the firm, she w as leaving the city. Pronto. A friend o f A m anda’s claim s A m anda had been getting anonym ous threatening calls. Then her tires got slashed. The final straw w as when her apartm ent w as broken into and ransacked.” N at felt a chill streak down her spine. “ A m anda freaked and took off for the W est C o a st.” “ And this friend thinks Jennifer Slater w as behind all th is?”

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“ This friend witnessed a very emotionally charged scene be­ tween Jennifer and M atthew the day before Am anda handed in her resignation. Which w as also the afternoon before the breakin. A m anda’s name w as bandied about during this heated scene.” “ When w as the suicide attem pt?” “ Ten days later. As I understand it, M atthew Slater w as in a bad way after A m anda fled the coop, and he started spending his nights at a hotel near his office. Until, according to one o f my confidential sources, the missus sw allow ed several dozen Valium. If you check out the incident in the papers, what you’ll read is that Jennifer Slater w as admitted to Boston General for food poi­ soning and w as released two days later. That w as also the day H ubby returned hom e.” “ Sounds like M rs. Slater suffered from some serious em o­ tional problem s.” The question w as, w as she suffering still? H ad she gotten worse? And had she been hanging around Boston General that m orn­ ing?

eleven Before I was put in protective custody there was a young ivoman two rooms down. She committed suicide. ' Cut her wrists with a knife she stole from the dining hall. Rumor was, she’d filed a complaint about sexual harassment a few weeks before that. L. I.

"SICK?"

“ M y period,” Suzanne muttered. “ Bad cram ps.” Suzanne H olden w as lying under a blanket on her twin-size bed in the two-bed room she had been sharing with Lynn. N at couldn’t help but feel an ache in her chest as she glanced over at Lynn’s crisply made-up bed. On the w all over her bed was a fram ed Picasso print, an abstract of a woman. By contrast, Suzanne had a wide array o f children’s drawings Scotch-taped on her wall. They were all by the sam e young artist, Jaco b Coscarelli. Seeing these drawings garnered an altogether different but equally distressing ache.

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N at tried to push her pain aside and concentrate on Suzanne’s, although she w as far from convinced the inm ate’s pain w as le­ gitimate. “ Y o u ’ve never needed to take time off from w ork before be­ cause of your period, Suzanne. Are you sure there isn’t something else bothering y o u ?” N at saw a flash o f anger shadow Suzanne’s face, but it dis­ appeared quickly. “ I have cram ps,” she answered flatly. “ D o you give all your inmates the third degree if they get sick ?” “ I’m not giving you the third degree, Suzanne. I’m trying to . .

N at stopped. She wanted Suzanne to talk about Lynn’s

journal. She wanted the inmate to confide in her. But why should she? N o t only w as N at the “ authority,” she w as Suzanne’s son ’s father’s lover. N at w as probably the last person she’d open up Suzanne w as not waiting for N at to finish her sentence. She had closed her eyes, and N at knew she w as hoping she would leave without another word. A strong part of N at wanted to do just that. She was unnerved in there, surrounded by all o f Jak ey ’s drawings. Oh, she had many of his drawings as well, plastered all over her refrigerator, held up by little magnets. But it w asn’t the same. They were not her child’s drawings. Stop, N at told herself. Stick to the reason you came up here. “ D id Lynn ever talk to you about what she w as writing in her journal, Suzanne?” Suzanne’s eyes stayed resolutely closed, but N at could see her body stiffen under the thin cover. “ N o ,” she mumbled. Only after she uttered the response did she realize N at had tricked her. Her eyes sprang open, and N at could see fear there. “ I don’t know anything about a jou rn al,” the inmate said, too late.

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N at w asn ’t listening. She w as busy thinking about what else Suzanne knew. And w hat it would take to get her to share it. Fear w as a great silencer. There w as no question that Suzanne Holden w as very frightened.

It w as close to noon when Leo phoned N at. “ N othing on the envelope. It’s one of those self-stick kinds. The ink used in the draw ing is being analyzed. W e’re not holding out much hope. M ost likely one of those dollar-a-dozen pens you can g^t in a million stores. W e’re also getting one of our shrinks to look at the drawing. See if he can come up with some kind o f profile. It’s a long shot, but we can’t leave any stone unturned. W hat’s happening at your end?” N at filled Leo in on her meeting with Bill W alker, sum m ariz­ ing the tape he’d played for her. Leo listened intently, saying little. “ I’d certainly like to know where both Jennifer Slater and her brother Rodney were when Lynn w as attacked,” N at said. “ Y eah,” Leo grunted. N at knew Leo well enough to know he w asn’t discounting what she’d been saying, but she also knew something else was on his mind. And it w as troubling him. H e didn’t keep her guess­ ing very long. “ When were you going to tell me about Suzanne?” “ H ow did you know she . . . ?” But N at knew the answer before she finished the question. “ Y ou went over to the boutique to see her.” She could hear L eo’s weighty sigh. “ It w asn’t a social call, N atalie.” “ I didn’t say it was. She says she’s got cram ps, but I suppose

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her boss already told you that.” N ow N at w as the one feeling disgruntled. “ W hat w as this, Leo? A test? You already knew she w as here. And, as a matter of fact, I w as about to tell you. I just thought my inform ation about Slater and her brother took pre­ cedence.” H er tone w as deliberately cool. “ H ave you talked to her?” “ Briefly,” N at said. She felt suddenly very adolescent, asham ed of herself. “ Leo, Suzanne knows Lynn kept a jou rn al.” The cool­ ness w as gone from her voice. “ I’ll talk to her,” he said. “ W hen?” “ Probably not until late this afternoon. I want to drop by Rodney Bartlett’s office and have a little chat with him, then I’m heading out to Westfield to have a chat with Lynn’s father.” “ M ind if I tag alon g?” There w as a brief pause. “ I’ll pick you up in fifteen m inutes.”

“ Y ou were planning to question Rodney Bartlett before I told you about that tape, weren’t y o u ?” Leo smiled at N at. “ H e’s been on my list from day one. That tape only puts him up a few notches.” “ W hat about his sister? D id you hear what she told Bill W al­ ker the other day ?” Leo nodded. “Jennifer Slater’s got an alibi for yesterday. She w as at home in M artha’s Vineyard. She’s got a housekeeper, a gardener, and her stockbroker to back her u p .” “ Stockbroker?” “ G erald G leason of B. F. M artin w as having lunch with her that day. Arrived on the noon ferry. D idn’t leave the Vineyard until four o ’clock.”

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pulled

up

in

front

of

a

beautifully maintained

nineteenth-century three-story brownstone on M arlborough Street in Boston’s posh Back Bay district. M ost o f the buildings on the street were of similar design and upkeep, the m ajority of them private residences. There were, however, a smattering o f offices discreetly tucked in. As they approached the intricately carved front door o f num ­ ber 1604, N at saw a discreet brass placard to the right that read, bartlett

f o u n d a t io n

.

Leo tried the door. It w as locked. He

pressed a buzzer on the left. “ W hat do you know about this foundation?” N at asked, cer­ tain Leo had already done his homework. “ Lots of bucks that get spread around mostly to arts and health-care groups. The original dough w as m ade by Lionel Bart­ lett, Rodney and Jennifer’s great-grandfather. Oil and steel. Subsequent generations invested wisely. Rodney seems to be keeping up the family standards. H e— ” Leo stopped abruptly as the door opened. N at w as expecting to see a secretary or maybe a security officer. Instead, she im­ mediately recognized Rodney Bartlett himself. He hadn’t changed much in the three years since she’d seen him on television during Lynn’s trial. If anything, he was a bit thinner. And there were a few threads o f gray in his dark hair that he wore com bed straight back from his aquiline face. He w as dressed in a navy-blue suit that could never have fit so perfectly if it hadn’t been customm ade for him. But, what the hell, he could afford it. Rodney eyed N at and Leo like he recognized them as well. Which N at found both surprising and a bit jarring. “W on’t you come in ?” He spoke with an impeccable Boston Brahmin accent. Y o u ’d alm ost think you were listening to JF K . Rodney stepped aside and they entered a large, sunlit room

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fitted with beautiful antique Victorian pieces and an exquisite Oriental rug. The room w ould have been taken for an elegant front parlor save for the prim middle-aged secretary sitting be­ hind a large cherrywood desk in the far corner of the room , busily working at her computer. She didn’t so much as glance their way as they entered. “ If you’ll follow me to my office.” Rodney w as already lead­ ing the way down a wide hallway lined with lithographs. N at recognized a M iro, a Picasso, and a Chagall. She doubted they were prints. N o wonder Rodney kept his front door locked. Rodney Bartlett’s office w as surprisingly spare. N o signed lith­ ographs on the w alls in here. N o pricey Oriental rug on the p ar­ quet w ood floor. N o antiques. N o drapery on the window, just practical mini blinds pulled halfway up the window. A window that didn’t offer much in the way o f sunlight, as it faced onto a narrow alleyway across from which was another brownstone building. Rodney settled himself in a swivel chair behind a simple oak desk, and N at and Leo took the only other two seats in the office, metal chairs upholstered in a sturdy gray tweed fabric that you’d find in any office supply store in town. D oubtful that Rodney entertained any of his high-roller friends or colleagues in here. “ I suppose you’ve come to ask me about Lynn Ingram .” R o d ­ ney folded his hands on the desk. N at noticed that his nails were expertly manicured. “ Y ou know who we are, then,” Leo said. He smiled faintly. “ I’m a subscriber to both of the Boston papers. I’ve seen your pictures on the front page more than once.” “ Your picture’s been in the paper more than once as w ell,” N at said.

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Rodney’s smile deepened, revealing perfect, shiny white teeth. He w as not an unattractive man, although his features were too sharp-edged and austere for her taste. “ Yes, but usually in the ‘Style’ section.” “ Y ou made it to the front page a few years a g o ,” Leo said in that intentionally offhanded w ay of his that anyone with a m od­ icum of intelligence knew w as deliberate. Bartlett w as more than reasonably intelligent. H is smile vanished in a flash. “ I can save you a lot o f time and bother, Detective. I w as at a funeral service yesterday.” He picked up a pen and scribbled something on a piece of white linen em bossed Foundation stationery. He rose, w alked briskly around the desk, and handed it to Leo. “ This is the address of the funeral home and the name of the funeral director.” “ W hose funeral?” Leo asked. “ The father o f a friend of mine. Joseph Ferris. H is son Je ff and I were room m ates at Brown. N ow , if you don’t mind, I have a very busy day ahead of m e.” H e w as walking to the door and had it open for them before he finished his sentence. On their w ay out, N at paused and looked up at Rodney. “ By the way, how ’s your sister feeling?” Fie smiled again, but this time it w as a smile tinged with m al­ ice. “ She’d be feeling a lot better if that freak had kicked the bucket.” Gone w as Rodney Bartlett’s Brahmin accent.

It w as close to two

p .m

.

when they hit the turnpike and headed

out for Westfield. N at asked Leo why they were meeting Lynn’s father at home rather than at work. “ Let’s say he w asn’t too thrilled about talking with me at all,” Leo said. “ He w as extremely upset at the thought of a detective

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showing up at his office. Afraid I’d blow his cover, I su ppose.” Leo smiled. “ H ave you heard from Dr. V ard a ?” N at asked. “ N o .” Leo shot her a quick glance. “ Should I have?” She shrugged. “ D id your boys pick up any leads as to who broke into his apartm ent?” “ N o .” “ I certainly w ouldn’t put it past our friend Rodney.” She was also thinking about that vile draw ing left for her. “ We should have asked him where he w as— ” v“W e’re not finished with Rodney Bartlett by a long shot. But sometimes it’s wise not to show your whole hand all at once. Better to leave a suspect stewing for a while.” “ So Rodney is still a suspect? Even if his alibi proves to be airtight?” “ Even alibis that seem to be airtight might have m icroscopic puncture holes in them. Y ou just have to look real close.” O ates w as already on the job. Before they got onto the turn­ pike, Leo had gotten his partner on his cell phone, passing on the name of the funeral director. O ates w as going to have a talk with him before the day w as out. Leo sighed. “ M y problem in this case isn’t not having any suspects. It’s having too many o f them. As much as I like Lynn Ingram, she’s acquired quite a few enemies over the years.” “ Speaking o f which, w hat about Bethany G rah am ?” Leo scowled. “ The ex-wife? W hat m akes you think she’s one o f Lynn’s enem ies?” “ I’m not sure she is. But then again, I’m not sure she isn’t ,” N at said, remembering the wom an in the hospital cafeteria w ho’d taken off in such a hurry. “ We don’t know how she feels tow ard the person who w as once her ex-husband and is now her ex-wife.

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She might not want to risk that inform ation coming to light. You know, old skeletons in the closet.” Leo smiled. “ W hat’s so am using?” she asked, knowing she sounded a bit defensive. “ Y ou ’re very sm art, N atalie.” “ But sometimes too sm art for my own g o o d ?” “ M aybe not this tim e.” “ M eaning?” “ You know a Boston politician by the name o f Daniel M il­ burne?” “ The rabid pro-capital punishment councilman with the very deep pockets? W hat’s he got to do with Bethany G rah am ?” “ Only that she might be married to him .” “W hat? Oh my god, Leo. T alk about not wanting to unearth old skeletons. A creep like M ilburne w ould go to just about any length— ” “ H old on. It’s not a sure thing. All we know so far is that the wife’s name is Beth. And that according to the m arriage certifi­ cate her maiden name w as C olm an.” “ Beth C olm an,” she repeated. “ And what m akes you think she’s really Bethany G rah am ?” “ On the Ingram -Graham m arriage certificate, she w as listed as Beth G raham C olm an.” N a t’s mind shot into overdrive. If Beth M ilburne and Bethany Graham were indeed one and the sam e, then the question w as, D id M ilburne know his wife w as once married to a transsexual? A transsexual who w as now also a convicted felon? N at could just see the headlines if that inform ation ever surfaced. M ilburne would be a laughingstock— and he could kiss his prom ising ca­

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reer good-bye. It w as prom ising, despite her personal opinion of the m an’s politics. Unfortunately, he had a lot of supporters in the city. And there w as talk of him running for m ayor in the next election. If word got out about his wife’s ex-husband, M ilburne might have to kiss the election good-bye. “ What else do you know about Beth G raham Colm an? Where does she come from? W here’d she go to school? W here’d she go after the breakup?” “ We’re checking into all those things.” She scowled. “ With M ilburne’s dough, he could buy his wife a tidy little, p a st.” “ O r we could be talking coincidence here, N atalie. She may be exactly who she claim s to be and have no connection w hat­ soever to the Bethany G raham who w as briefly married to Larry Ingram .” “ Yeah, I know. But if they are one and the sam e, you can bet M ilburne wouldn’t want it coming to light. M y guess is he’d go pretty far to keep it quiet.” Leo heaved a sigh. “ Ju st w hat we need. Another suspect.” “ And we can’t discount the possibility that whoever raped or tried to rape Lynn when she w as at G rafton wanted to finish her off before she got up the courage to rat the rapist o u t,” N at reflected. “ H ave you gotten any leads in that aren a?” Leo shook his head. “ I spoke to one of the priests on the phone who holds services at CCI Grafton. He said Lynn w asn’t a practicing Catholic but that she had met with him and one of the other priests who volunteered at the prison a few times. He implied that it w as m ore a matter of getting out of her cell than really wanting pastoral counseling.” “ D id she go to confession?” N at asked.

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“ N o t that he said. O f course, if she did confess anything to a priest, he w ouldn’t be able to repeat it.” “ Yeah, I know .” “ I also spoke to the super, but she’s new and wants nothing more than to deflect police focus aw ay from her institution. But I did check Lynn’s visitation record and turns out H arrison Bell visited Lynn frequently while she was there. And they wrote each other.” “ I know. Ja ck already told me. And Bell was real eager to have Lynn back at the clinic,” N at added. “Ja ck thinks that Bell should to p our suspect list. H e’s convinced Bell had the hots for Lynn. M aybe she rejected him and he flipped. Or maybe he re­ jected her, then panicked that she’d blackm ail him or go tell his wife. W ho k now s?” Leo shrugged. “ It’s possible. Anything’s possible. Like I said, that’s the problem . The suspect list keeps grow ing.”

»

“ I could certainly see Daniel M ilburne as prime suspect,” N at said. “ H e’s such an egotistical cutthroat bastard. I w ouldn’t put it past him to do anything he felt necessary to clear his path to becoming mayor. And I’m sure his political aspirations go much higher than that.” “ L ook, I’m certainly not a fan of M ilburne’s politics. But even if we are on the right track here about his wife, it doesn’t mean M ilburne even knows. I doubt her brief marriage to L arry -ak aLynn Ingram is something Bethany would want to b roadcast.” “ Broadcasting and telling your husband aren’t the same thing. And if M ilburne does know, like I said, he’s the kind o f sleaze w ho’d resort to any m eans— ” “ It w ould be a dam n risky move for someone as easily identifi­ able as the councilman to attack a wom an in broad daylight— ”

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“ It w as raining. It w as a deserted alleyway. Besides, he wouldn’t have to even do it himself. He could have hired a hit man. H e’s rich enough, well connected, and ruthless enough— ” “ For that matter, so is Rodney Bartlett.” “ T ru e,” she conceded. “ But I still think— ” Leo w as shaking his head. “ The hit man theory doesn’t sit well with me. The attack w as too violent. N o t a hit m an’s m.o. H it men like to be tidy and quick. A shot to the head. A knife to the jugular. Leave the body and scram. T h at’s not what we have here. I see the violent and deliberately gruesome attack on Lynn as a hate crim e.” “ O r a love crim e,” she said.

There were a number of upscale developments in the exclusive town of Westfield, many of them given elegant names like M ystic Crossing, H ickory Hills, or, in the case of Lynn Ingram ’s parents, Laurel Lanes. The homes in this development sat on three-acre wooded lots. Because it w as the start of fall foliage season, some o f the trees had already begun to turn. Touches of gold, red, amber, and burnt-umber leaves gave the properties an even more lush ap ­ pearance. Though this development of large, colonial-style homes w as far from the m ost exclusive in the town, it certainly would be considered a very good address for a successful, professional family. N at glanced over at Leo as he wound his w ay slowly through the development looking for number J S. “ These spreads have to be half a million and u p ,” N at commented. “ I could see the CEO o f a com puter software com pany living here. But an em ployee?” “ M aybe there’s some family m oney.”

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“ M ayb e.” It w as close to one

p .m

.

when Leo pulled into the driveway

beside a silver BM W parked in front of one of the bays of a three-car garage. The Everett-aka-Ingram home was an oversized reproduction Federal colonial, white clapboards trimmed with moss-green and a barn-red front door. The grounds, while not extravagant, were perfectly manicured. A large m aple tree sat in the center of the lawn. N at felt a flash of unease as she got out of L eo’s car. She realized she w as already inclined tow ard disliking Lynn’s father. M aybe dislike w as putting it too mildly. She tried to tell herself to keep an open mind as they headed up the blue stone walk. She wondered if Leo w as telling himself the same thing. H ad he, too, already passed judgement on Peter Everett? A m iddle-aged man opened the front door just as they were approaching it. He w as tall, lean, with thinning gray hair that w as cut close to his scalp. He w as wearing black-rimmed glasses, but removed them and tucked them into the breast pocket o f his overly starched white shirt, which already held a black plastic pencil case and several writing implements. He stuck his hands into the pockets o f his chino slacks. He w as dressed like your typical enigeer. Unless some rich relative had died and left him a bundle, it w as a real stretch to believe Peter Ingram could have afforded this spread on his salary. One thing N at noticed immediately about Ingram w as that, unlike his wife, he didn’t bear any physical resemblance to Lynn. She imagined that w as one consolation for him. O kay, so she w as having trouble keeping an open mind. “ M r. Everett?” Leo inquired, his voice showing no sign of any kind o f judgement at all. N at, however, felt an instant flurry

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o f irritation that Leo addressed Ingram by his alias. Lynn’s father m ade no response, merely opened the door wider. Before N at and Leo stepped over the threshold, Leo iden­ tified the two o f them. If Peter Ingram w as puzzled or annoyed that N at w as there, he gave no sign of it. He w as pretty much giving no sign of anything. They entered a broad hallway with a black granite floor, walls painted a pale green, and a wide, curved staircase fitted with an O riental runner. T o their left w as a graciously proportioned din­ ing room which, while meticulously decorated in reproduction period furnishings, had an unused look. To their right, through a broad archway, w as the living room . Federal-style sofas faced each other on either side of a large brick fireplace. Tw o Chester­ field chairs upholstered in a dark green dam ask faced the hearth. Again, everything looked perfect but unlived-in. A showplace. N at tended to pick up vibes very quickly when she entered som eone’s home. For all the money and taste lavished on the Everett home, the vibes here were chilly. She doubted much laughter w as heard in this house. She doubted much of anything w as heard. “ Is your wife in?” Leo asked as the three of them remained standing in the foyer. Peter Ingram m ade no move to invite them into either the dining room or living room. Ingram shook his head, stood there for several more moments, then abruptly turned and w alked into the living room . He headed straight for one of the Chesterfield chairs. Leo and N at sat down on the sofa to Ingram ’s right. Despite the large windows at either end of the room , there w as a gloom iness to the space, mostly due to the heavy drapery. But N at also felt the gloom w as en­ hanced by the lack of em otional warmth that w as so apparent. She glanced at the beautifully carved oak mantel. There were

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no family photos, only a pair of brass candlesticks, evenly spaced on opposite ends, the candles in them never having been lit. Peter Ingram sat erect, his hands folded on his lap. H e w as waiting. N a t found herself increasingly irritated by Ingram ’s silent treatment. H er first instinct w as to read it as hostility, but then she tried to open her mind to the possibility that he w as fright­ ened, upset, and possibly even grief-stricken. After all, his daugh­ ter w as, at this very moment, fighting for her life in a hospital in Boston. H is daughter. H ow easy for N at to think o f Lynn that way. Lynn w asn ’t her flesh and blood. Lynn hadn’t started out life as N a t’s son. “ Y ou have a lovely hom e,” N at said lightly. “ D id your wife do the decorating herself?” “ She had some help.” “ I’d love to know the name of her decorator.” “ I have no idea.” Ingram put his glasses back on— more, it seemed to N at, to give him something to do than anything else. “ M y sister looked out in Westfield a few years a g o ,” N at continued. “ She toured a house in this development, but it was a bit too pricey even though her husband does very well in bank­ ing.” Leo glanced at her, knowing she w as lying through her teeth. Ingram didn’t know it, though, and N at could see that her comment m ade him uneasy. “ I . . . w as fortunate . . . to come into a bit of m oney,” he muttered. “ Oh, that w as fortunate,” she said. “ L o o k ,” Ingram said gruffly, “ you haven’t driven all the way out here to pay a social call. Can we just get to it?” “ Fine,” Leo responded pleasantly, pulling out a pad and flip­

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ping it open, then removing a ballpoint pen. “ W ould you tell me your w hereabouts yesterday?” If Ingram w as taken aback by just how quickly Leo got to the point, he gave no indication. Indeed, he met L eo’s gaze head-on and responded without even a moment’s hesitation. “ I w as at w ork until five. I got home at five forty-five, and that’s where I w as until I got

up

for w ork this morning at seven

a .m

.Y

ou

could

ask me about any weekday and I’d have the same answer. I lead a very uneventful life.” Ingram ’s voice w as tight, mechanical, un­ modulated. “ I believe your w ork requires doing some on-site computer troubleshooting. D id you visit any sites yesterday?” Leo w as glancing down at a page in his notebook. N at w asn’t sure whether it contained some inform ation about an on-site visit or whether it w as a bluff. If it w as a bluff, she could see from the way the muscles in Ingram ’s jaw tightened that he w as succeed­ ing. Ingram lost his rigid control. “ Yes, Thursdays I occasionally do on-site . . . ” H is prominent A dam ’s apple bobbed as he sw al­ lowed hard. “ I did m ake a brief visit to D ekko Com puters. It’s in W ayland.” “ W hat time w as th at?” Leo asked. “ I got there before one and left after tw o.” “ H ow

m u c h b e fo re o n e

p .m

.? ”

A thin bead of sweat broke out across Ingram ’s broad fore­ head. He clenched his hands together. “ I don’t know exactly. Twelve-forty, twelve forty-five. Look, I never wanted anything bad to happen to . . . him. I don’t suppose you can understand what it’s like. Losing a child. We were close, Larry and I. I mean . . . when he w as little. Y ou probably think we weren’t

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because of . . . but we were. I used to take him fishing and cam p­ ing. Ju st the two of us. D id his mother tell you th at?” N at gave Leo a quick look. Ingram noticed. “ Yes, Ruth told me she went to the hospital. She thought I’d go ballistic.” He sounded suddenly sad, drained. “ I’m not a monster. H e’s our child. Ruth is his mother. I w asn’t m ad she went to the hospital. I understand my wife a hell of a lot better than she understands m e.” “ She understands that you disowned your child,” N at snapped, ignoring L eo’s peeved look in her direction for piping up. Bjut she couldn’t help it. H er blood w as starting to boil lis­ tening to this man talk as if he w as the good guy here. “ I gave my son a choice,” he answered stiffly. “ A choice? T o live a lie in order to be accepted by her father, versus— ” “ D o you have any children, Superintendent?” “ The point is, you have one,” she shot back. “ And you cast him out o f your life without so much— ” Ingram popped out of his chair, again cutting her off. “ I was not going to let him humiliate us. I should have thrown him out the first time I— ” He stopped abruptly. “ W hat does it matter n ow ?” “ You mean right after Larry graduated high school?” She was not about to let him off the hook. Ingram flushed. “ Larry told yo u ?” She didn’t respond. Neither did Leo. Ingram sat back down, clasped his hands together. “ He thought we were gone for the weekend. But Ruthie and I had an argument. We were at her m other’s. Her mother always took her daughter’s side. Never did like me. I storm ed out. Drove hom e.” Ingram unclasped his hands, putting them up to his face.

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“ Larry w as . . . in our bed. With . . . a man. They were . . . I think . . . I could have . . . gotten past that p a r t . . . N o t right aw ay, b u t . . . I mean you think having a kid w ho’s . . . gay is probably as bad as it can get, but— ” “ W orse than leukemia? a brain tumor? m uscular— ?” Leo glared at N at for breaking in again. Ingram w as glaring, too. “ Larry leaped out o f bed when he saw me. H e w as wearing a wig and makeup. And he w as . . . he w as dressed in a pair of his m other’s bra and panties. H is mother’s .” He stared starkly at them. “ You don’t have the faintest idea what that did to me. I thanked G od Ruthie w asn’t with me that night. I never told her. I . . . never— ” He shook his head, the glare replaced by agony. “ W hat did you d o ?” Leo asked quietly. Ingram ’s eyes filled with tears. “ I . . . ran. I ran out o f the house. I got to the street and . . . I threw up. I threw my guts up. And then I got in my car and drove. I don’t know where I went or, even w orse, how I got there. I think a part o f me wanted to drive right into a tree. Anything . . . Anything to eradicate that . . . sight. It w as obscene.” “ But your wife said you made u p ?” “ Larry prom ised— never again .” “ He even got m arried,” N at said. Ingram stiffened. “ T hat didn’t last lon g.” “ What became of Bethany?” N at asked. Ingram w as staring down at the floor again. “ I heard she died several years a g o .” N a t and Leo shared a look. “ Who told y o u ?” Leo asked. “ I don’t remember now. M aybe I read it in the paper.”

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“ Your wife never mentioned that Bethany w as d ead ,” N at said. “ I don’t remember if I even told my wife. It didn’t seem to have any bearing on u s.” “ D id your son k now ?” “ Yes. I believe so .” “ Y ou believe so ? ” “ I did think Larry should know. O kay? So I asked my priest to write to him a t . . . at the prison .” “ So she died during the time of Lynn’s incarceration,” N at commented, deliberately referring to his child by her name. Ingram merely nodded. “ H o w ?” she asked. “ C ar accident,” Ingram muttered, still looking down. “ Where did it happen?” “ Somewhere in France. I don’t know the details.” “ And you read about it in a local p ap er?” “ N o. I remember now. It w asn’t in the paper. Someone . . . a friend of L arry’s from H arvard . . . I bumped into him a few years ago. And . . . he’d known Bethany and he happened to mention it in p assin g.” “ W hat w as this friend’s nam e?” Leo asked. “ I don’t remember. And I don’t understand why all this in­ terest in L arry’s ex-wife,” Ingram snapped. “ Their whole m ar­ riage w as a sham. It lasted all o f a couple of months. And that w as ten years a g o .” “ R outine,” Leo said offhandedly. “ W hat did she look like? Bethany? Describe her for u s,” he went on, pen poised, m ain­ taining a perfectly calm demeanor. Ingram ’s demeanor w as anything but calm. “ Describe her? For G od’s sake, why? She’s dead. W hat could it matter— ”

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• “T all? Short? Blonde? Brunette? Thin— ?” “ Average. J u s t . . . average. Brown hair, I think. N o t heavy. N o t thin. There w as nothing . . . distinctive about her.” N at w as certain Ingram w as lying through his teeth about Bethany. Which also m ade her even more certain that Lynn’s ex­ wife w as very likely the current wife o f Daniel M ilburne. “ Perhaps your wife will be able to be more specific,” N at said. “ Leave my wife alone. She’s nearly at the point of collapse as it is. If you continue to pursue us, I’ll press charges of police harassm ent,” Ingram warned. “ Y o u ’re free to do that, M r. Ingram ,” Leo said blandly. And N at wanted to hug him on the spot for not referring to Lynn’s father as “ M r. Everett.” “ But there’s been a serious murder at­ tempt on your daughter— ” Again Ingram flinched. Again N at wanted to hug Leo. “ And I intend to pursue this investigation until I track down , the bastard who did it.” Ingram retreated from his threatening stance. “ Please. Please,” he repeated. N ow there w as a note o f pleading in his voice. “ I don’t know if this is something either o f you can understand, but I find it extremely painful having these old wounds reopened. It’s taken me a long time to . . . heal.” “ It’s going to take Lynn an even longer tim e,” N at said. “ And I’m not just talking about the horrendous physical w ounds.”

twelve I didn’t only lie to her, I lied to myself. I honestly thought we could make our marriage work. Talk about self-deception. I hope she will some day find it in her heart to forgive me. L. I.

"YOU

T HI NK HE

w as telling the truth?” N at asked Leo as they

headed back to Boston. “ A bout where he w as yesterday?” Leo shrugged. “ We need to nail down the time he got to D ekko. But even if he got there at twelve-forty, it leaves open a small window o f opportunity.” “ And that bit about Bethany having died? Awfully conve­ nient. And awfully vague. W ouldn’t you say ?” “ Y eah ,” Leo agreed. “ And I’d still love to know where the Ingrams got the money to buy a home that had to cost at least half a million bucks. A

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sum like that would be a drop in the bucket for som eone as wealthy as M ilburne.” “ Even if it w as hush money, it’s still a big jump from paying someone o ff to keep quiet about a m arriage, to attempting a m urder.” “ M ilburne had to be in a panic that Lynn w ould see a picture o f Bethany in the paper or on TV. Politicians and their wives are always being photographed.” “ M aybe the wife got a complete makeover. I saw a few photos o f her. She’s anything but average. She’s a real knockout.” “ But Lynn w as married to her. She might still recognize her, makeover or not. Plus we only have Peter Ingram ’s w ord that Bethany w as ‘average.’ And his w ord isn’t exactly trustworthy. And if Lynn saw the photo and recognized Bethany, it m akes sense she’d start wondering why she w as informed of Bethany’s demise. M aybe Lynn contacted her ex. And Beth told M ilburne. A nd— ” Leo w as scowling. “ W hat?” “ D on ’t go jum ping to conclusions, N atalie. But there w as a photo o f Beth M ilburne at a charity ball that she attended on W ednesday night. It m ade the Thursday morning p aper.” “ Tall? Blonde? H air down to here?” N at pointed to her shoul­ ders. “ Patrician-looking?” Leo w as nodding. So w as N at. N ow she knew why the wom an in the cafeteria had looked fam iliar to Carrie Li. The nurse m ust have seen Beth M ilburne’s picture at the charity ball as well. “ You going to fill me in ?” Leo asked knowingly.

.

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N at told him about the w om an w ho’d fled the cafeteria that morning.

As they approached the city, N at called the hospital for a status report on Lynn. It was over twenty-four hours since the attack. But there w as still no change in her condition. Which meant she w as still unconscious, still hanging by a thread. “ H as anyone else called or shown up at IC U ?” N at asked the head nurse, already having learned that Carrie Li w as unavaila­ ble. N a t and Leo w ould have to wait to talk to her about Beth Milburne. “ Dr. Bell came by a short while ago. He w as rather upset when I told him M s. Ingram couldn’t have any visitors. It w as a bit aw kw ard for me. Dr. Bell does have staff privileges at the hospital and, as he pointed out, he w asn’t technically a visitor. I told him to talk to the officer posted by M s. Ingram ’s door since the ‘N o V isitor’ m andate was a police order.” “ And did h e?” “ N o. He just left. But he w asn’t looking very happy.” N at related this inform ation to Leo. He listened, not looking too happy himself. “ You think it’s time to have a little chat with Bell?” N at asked. Leo glanced at the car clock. It w as just after four. They were approaching one o f the refurbished turnpike rest stops with a spanking new M cD on ald’s less than ten miles from the city. “ Let’s m ake a pit stop .” He pulled off the exit. “ I suppose you want to come along for the chat with Dr. Bell.” “ I suppose I’d better. Otherwise, how could you be sure I w asn’t off sleuthing on my ow n?”

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There w as a family photo on Bell’s desk. He saw N at eyeing it and smiled. “ T hat w as taken this summer down at the Cape. W e’ve got a little cottage in Truro. Carol and the children used to stay all summer when the kids were little. I’d come down on weekends and for m ost of August. This past summer it w as only Daphne, my b aby.” N at glanced at the pretty blond-haired girl swept up in D addy’s arm s in the photo. She looked to be around four or five. H er chubby arm s were circling her dad ’s neck and she w as smil­ ing brightly. The only one in the family who w as smiling. “ W e’re lucky if we m anage a couple of weekends there with the boys. Billy goes to baseball cam p and Jo sh spends half the summer at hockey cam p and the other half at basketball camp. Tw o regular jocks, my b oy s,” he added proudly, a smile on his face now. “ N o t that D aphne’s a slouch. Y ou should see that little one kick a soccer ball. But then, with two big, athletic brothers to teach her— ” “ Which boy got in trouble at school yesterday?” N at asked. H arrison’s smile faded. “ T hat w ould be the oldest. Jo sh .” He pointed to the taller and heavier-set boy in the photo. “ H e’s four­ teen. Teenagers. Hey, they have to rebel. It’s healthy. T hat’s what I keep trying to explain to my w ife.” N a t’s gaze fell on the tall, athletic blonde standing in front of her husband and daughter in the photo, her arms draped affec­ tionately around the two boys who flanked either side of her. Jo sh w as already as tall as his mother. C arol Bell looked healthy, vigorous, strong. She w as pleasantlooking, although N at certainly w ouldn’t describe her as pretty. Still, it did flash through her mind that Carrie Li might describe

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her that way. W as it possible she w as on the wrong track believ­ ing the w om an in the hospital cafeteria w as Bethany? Could it have been Carol Bell? In the photo, H arrison’s wife w as wearing black spandex biker shorts and a T-shirt, and N at imagined she w as either a biking enthusiast or a runner. While she looked to be trying to smile in the photo, she didn’t quite m anage it. H er eyes were narrowed to a squint. M aybe it w as the sun. Although no one else w as squinting. W hatever the reason, her expression made her look considerably older than her late twenties. But how old did she. look when she w asn’t squinting? “ Billy’s eleven,” Bell w as saying. “ W ants to be a pitcher for the Red Sox when he grows up. I always kid him and say he’d better hurry and get there so we can finally win a W orld Series.” He chuckled but it sounded forced. “ D oes your wife w o rk ?” Leo asked. Bell looked surprised by the question. “ Carol? G od, no. She’s a diehard stay-at-home mom. Her children are not going to be latchkey kids. She’s there to watch over them every m inute.” N at picked up a slight edge in his voice. “ You think she’s an overprotective m other?” she asked. Bell appeared insulted. “ Absolutely not. C arol’s a wonderful mother. I think it’s great that she’s home with the children. O f course, the boys are old enough to m anage a bit more on their own. But D aphne’s another matter. She’s still a baby.” The smile returned. “ She hates when I call her ‘my baby,’ but I guess she always will be my b aby.” “ I understand you went over to the hospital to see Lynn this m orning,” Leo said. Bell looked a bit jarred by the sudden shift of topic. “ And w as turned away. Can I ask w hy?”

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“ Someone tried to kill Lynn Ingram yesterday,” Leo said dryly. As if Bell needed reminding. “ He or she didn’t succeed. We don’t want to give her assailant a second chance.” The doctor’s m outh opened but he seemed at a loss for a response. “ Y ou can’t think that I . . . Y ou suspect m e?” he finally muttered, his tone etched with disbelief. “ Y ou do realize that Lynn w ouldn’t be alive right now if I hadn’t found her and had her rushed to the hospital.” O f course, they did realize that, if he had assaulted Lynn, why didn’t he just leave her to die? Did he get cold feet? H ave a change o f heart? “ Were you alone when you found Lynn?” Leo asked benignly. “ Y es,” he said without hesitation. But then he paused. “Well, one of the clerks at the clinic w as coming back from lunch, and I did call out to her as she came into the alleyway from the other end. I shouted for her to call nine-one-one.” N at glanced over at Leo a bit put-out that he hadn’t told her about the clerk. It went a long way tow ard explaining Bell’s res­ cue actions. “ H ow close are you and Lynn?” Leo asked. Bell frowned. “ W e’re colleagues. We admire each other’s skills and abilities.” N at sighed, intentionally loudly. “ And w e’re friends. But if you’re suggesting— ” “ Y ou wrote to Lynn while she w as in prison. And you visited quite often.” “ Like I said. W e’re friends.” H is tone left no question as to his annoyance with her comment. Ignoring the doctor’s mounting irritation, she asked, “ H ow did your wife feel about your friendship with Lynn?” That question really put her on Bell’s shit list. “ C arol didn’t

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think anything o f it,” he said tightly. But he w as clearly rattled. “ She knew you were writing Lynn? Visiting her in prison ?” “ M y wife has nothing to do with any of this. And I don’t see any purpose to these questions, M s. Price.” “ D oes that mean she didn’t k n ow ?” Leo asked. N at was glad to see Leo picking up the ball. She w as pretty sure that he, too, w as thinking the mystery w om an at the hospital could have been Bell’s wife. Bell relented, realizing it w as two against one. “ I didn’t make a point of telling her each time I visited, if that’s what you mean. ” “ D id your wife ever meet Lynn before she went to priso n ?” Bell w as working hard to appear nonchalant as Leo continued firing questions. He w asn’t succeeding. “ Yes. A couple of times. When C arol dropped by the office.” “ D id she know Lynn w as a transsexu al?” “W hat difference would it make to C aro l?” “ If a beautiful young w om an worked with my husband, I might feel a flurry of jealousy*” N at commented. “ If I knew she w as a transsexual, it might remove that flurry.” “ C arol w asn ’t jealous. She had no reason to be jealous. But . . . she did know about Lynn. I mentioned it to her shortly after Lynn started working here.” He cleared his throat. “ Is there any­ thing else? I have a very busy schedule.” “ D id you know that Lynn w as personally involved with M at­ thew Slater at the time she w as treating him ?” Leo asked. Bell pulled out a pack of breath mints from the breast pocket o f his pale gray shirt, peeled one off the roll, and popped it into his mouth. As an afterthought he held out the pack to them. Neither Leo or N at responded. H e tucked the roll back in his pocket. “ Yes. I knew. Lynn told m e.”

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“ W hat w as your reaction?” N at asked. “ I . . . w asn ’t happy about it. It’s never a good idea for a phy­ sician to get rom antically involved with a patient. ” “ Is that w hat you told her?” “ She already knew that. But she believed she w as in love with him. A nd,” Bell quickly added, “ that Slater w as in love with her.” “ But you didn’t believe either w as true,” N at said. Bell folded his hands one over the other on his desk. “ Lynn w as rather innocent when it came to m en.” After a brief pause he tacked on, “ I imagine she still is.” “ D id she tell you w hat happened that night?” Leo asked. “ N o .” “ When you heard about Slater’s murder, did you think it was Lynn?” “ N o . N o , it never entered my m ind.” The doctor’s voice had gone up a full octave.

'

H e saw N at looking dubious. “ I never thought Lynn’d be in Slater’s bedroom before— ” He hesitated. “ Before her surgery?” she suggested. He nodded, then slowly shook his head. “ It was a foolish thing for her to do. If only she’d w aited.” “ Y ou knew she w as having the operation.” “ Yes. I fully supported her decision. I w as one of her refer­ ences. It isn’t easy to qualify as a candidate for sex-reassignment surgery. I mean, by a reputable surgeon. For a price, it’s always possible to find unscrupulous doctors who will operate, no ques­ tions asked. But Lynn w as sm art enough to know that would have been risky physically as well as psychologically.” “ Who w as the other reference?” Leo asked.

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“ Claire Fisher, my head nurse.” N at saw Leo jot down the nurse’s name. “ Did Lynn tell you she w as a transsexual before or after she started working at the clinic?” “When I first interviewed Lynn for the position, she w as com ­ pletely frank with m e,” Bell said. “ I admired her for that. It took guts. She could have easily passed, and I’d never have been any the wiser, I assure yo u .” “ W hat w as your reaction?” “ Surprise,” he answered N at without hesitation. “ But I w asn’t put off, if that’s what you’re thinking. And, as you know, I hired her.” “ Y ou say Lynn w as completely frank with you. D id she tell you about her past? Her family? Other people she w as close to ?” Leo asked. “ She told me she w as estranged from her parents.” . “ Did she ever mention trying to play it straight? Say, back in high school or college? D ating women— ” “ Lynn is not a lesbian. She sees herself as heterosexual. A heterosexual wom an. I have always seen her that w ay as well. Prior to her sex-change operation as well as after her surgery. I wish she’d been up front with M atthew Slater. Then she’d have seen from the get-go that he w asn’t the man she thought he w a s.” “ M ost men aren’t ,” N at said. Leo gave her a sideways look. She ignored it. She w as thinking about why Bell wished Lynn had been honest with Slater. W as it because he w as jealous of the lawyer? D id he want Lynn for himself? “ H as Lynn mentioned anyone— man or w om an— in the past five weeks that she’s had any involvement w ith?” Leo asked. “ N o. N o one. As far as I know .”

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Bell’s intercom buzzer went off. He wasted no time respond­ ing to it. “ Yes, M o n a ?” “ Your three-o’clock is here, Dr. Bell.” “ Thanks, M o n a.” Bell rose. “ I’m afraid I really can’t spare any more time right n ow .” “Ju st one m ore question, D octo r,” N at said as Bell w as al­ ready heading tow ard the door. “ Y es?” “ W hat’s your opinion about two colleagues getting rom anti­ cally involved?” Bell cast N at a dark look. “ I don’t approve o f that, either,” he said tightly, yanking open the door. N at w as sure he’d have liked nothing better than to boot her out bodily, but he m anaged to control himself.

thirteen Sex-reassignment surgery doesn’t bring nirvana. The therapist’s job is to help his transsexual patients under­ . stand that their pasts cannot be rewritten. D (e x c e r p t

"W H A T DO YOU

r

fro m

. R

o bert

Sch w a rtz

Journal o f Sexology)

think?” N at asked Leo as they settled down with

their mugs of coffee at a sm all table in the hospital coffee shop. Claire Fisher had agreed to meet them down here when she fin­ ished work at five. It w as now a quarter to five. “ I think they were close. H ow close? I’m not sure yet.” “ I wonder how close C arol thinks they were. T hat business about not telling his wife every time he visited Lynn, says to me he thought C arol might not be too pleased.” L eo’s cell phone rang. H e checked the number on the screen before he clicked on.

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“ Yeah, M itch. W hat’s u p ?” He listened for a minute. “ Yeah, okay. I’m on my w ay.” “ W hat?” “ The funeral director confirmed Rodney Bartlett’s alibi. But O ates got the list of attendees who were at the funeral and started contacting them. One of them was sitting right behind Bartlett at the funeral, and she seems to recollect him leaving before the service ended. But she w asn’t willing to swear to it. And can’t pin down a time. O ates and I are going to divvy up the list and see if we can come up with anyone else who saw Bartlett make an early % exit. Because the thing is— ” He paused for effect. “ O ates clocked the time from the funeral home to the crime scene. Drove it at noon. T ook him just under fourteen m inutes.” “ So if Rodney did .slip out o f the funeral service, he could have easily— ” “ He could even have m ade it back before the service was over.” “ W ouldn’t it be nice if you could get a search w arrant for his home and office and discover the knife,” N at said wistfully. “ Something tells me that knife is probably on the bottom of the bay. W hoever did the cutting w as too sm art to hold on to the w eapon.” “ Rodney could easily have tossed it in the harbor on his way back from the clinic,” N at pointed out. “ Bell could have tossed it, to o .” Leo hesitated. “ Y ou want to put our talk with Claire Fisher on hold or— ? ” N at smiled. “ It’ll be okay, Leo. Actually, Claire might be more open without a police detective aroun d.” H e took a quick gulp of his coffee, eyeing her over the rim. “ O kay, so I’ll see you later.”

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“ Right. The reheated Chinese.” Leo looked uncomfortable. “ Yeah, that, too. But I meant over at the center.” “ Oh . . . right. Suzanne?” “ Y eah ,” Leo said, not quite meeting N a t’s eyes.

Claire Fisher took L eo’s vacated chair, setting a steaming-hot cup o f tea and a corn muffin on the table. Bell’s head nurse w as a trim brunette in her early thirties. Her hair w as cut stylishly short. ^She was quite pretty, but not the least bit flashy. She was wearing a crisp white lab coat over taupe slacks. She looked efficient. And friendly. “ H o w ’s Lynn doin g?” she asked right off the bat. “ N o t great.” Claire Fisher shook her head. “ It’s so awful. I still can’t really take it in .” “Were you here yesterday?” “ N o. I w as home sick. A migraine. I don’t get them very often, but when I do, it’s pure agon y.” She focused her attention on her cup of tea, removing the tea bag and setting it on the edge o f her paper plate, pushing aside her muffin as some of the liquid oozed out. “ H ow long have you worked for H arrison Bell?” “ N ine years. A lm ost ten. I started here right out o f nursing school.” “ He must be a great b o ss.” A faint flush crept up her neck. “ He does very im portant work. Chronic pain is a terrible thing. So many doctors just throw pills at you and basically tell you there’s nothing to be done for it. Y ou just have to live with it. But they don’t give you

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any help in learning how to live with it. Here, we w ork on a mind-body approach. Everything from physical therapy to hyp­ nosis to im aging and psychological counseling. We don’t help everyone, but we help a lot of people.” “ M atthew Slater? D id you help him ?” Claire looked rattled. “ O h ,” she muttered. “ Lynn confided in you, didn’t sh e?” N at m ade the question sound like she already knew the answer. “ She did tell me she w as seeing M atthew, but that’s only be­ cause she believed I suspected something w as going on between them. ” She took a careful sip of her tea. “ W as she right?” “ I did think he m ade more appointments with her than were necessary. For his physical condition.” “ Claire, do you have any idea who attacked Lynn yesterday?” N at asked bluntly. “ N o. N o , I can’t imagine anyone being that vicious. I guess you see people like that all the time, given your work, but I don’t know a soul who would do something so m onstrous. And to Lynn, o f all people. She’s such a good person.” A flush m ade its w ay up to her cheeks. “ Oh, I know that must sound strange for me to say. Considering what happened to M atthew Slater. But I never, ever doubted that it w as self-defense.” “ H ow com e?” “ Because I know Lynn. And . . . And I knew Slater.” N at arched a brow. Claire looked uncom fortable. “ H e hit on me a couple of times during our physical therapy session s.” “ Did you tell Lynn?” She shook her head. “ Lynn w as so desperate to be normal. I mean, she wanted to have a m an in her life, have the house with

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a picket fence, adopt a couple o f kids. I felt for her. Hey, I want that stuff, too. But I would never have nominated M att Slater for that role.” “ For starters, he w as already m arried,” N at commented in a deliberately light wom an-to-woman mode. “ Y es.” Again she devoted her attention to her cup of tea. Something told N at that Claire w as able to identify so strongly with Lynn because the nurse w as also coping with her own des­ perate attraction to a m arried man. In Claire’s case, N a t’s money w as on C laire’s boss, Dr. H arrison Bell. Were Claire’s feelings recfprocated? O r were Bell’s attentions focused elsewhere? Like on Lynn Ingram? If that w as the case, how would that affect Claire’s feelings about her friend and colleague Lynn? H ow convenient that Claire had an alibi at the ready for yes­ terday. But not much of one. Unless she had someone who could corroborate her claim. N at decided to leave that line o f ques­ tioning to Leo. “ But then, men and women get divorced and remarried all the tim e,” she said instead. “ Yes, that’s true.” Claire w as now examining her tea-stained and as-yet-untouched muffin. “ H ow would you describe Lynn’s relationship with H arrison Bell?” “ W hat do you m ean? They’re colleagues. They have great re­ spect for each other. Dr. Bell’s been there for Lynn throughout her whole ordeal. I think he felt partly responsible.” “ H ow ’s th at?” Claire com pressed her lips as if she hadn’t meant to let that comment slip out. “ He referred M atthew Slater to Lynn for treat­ ment. It’s ridiculous for him to have felt in any way responsible.

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Why w ouldn’t he have referred him? Slater w as a patient just like hundreds o f other patients— ” “ M aybe he felt responsible for not stepping in when Lynn and Slater became rom antically involved.” “ I don’t even know that he knew they were involved.” “ R eally?” Claire’s agitation w as mounting. “ Well, he probably sus­ pected.” “ Is it possible he w as jealou s?” “ W hat? W hat are you implying here?” Claire’s anxiety w as now laced with indignation. “ Dr. Bell is a happily married man. v

Lynn was a colleague and, yes, I suppose, a friend. But that’s all it w as. And is.” N at could see a wall drop down in front of Claire Fisher’s face. The nurse checked her watch. “ M y break’s up. I have to get back to w ork.”

N a t’s inmate clerk w as filing reports in her outer office. He gave her a quick glance when she w alked in, then returned to his task. “ I saw Detective C oscarelli’s car parked outside. Is he in my office?” She gestured tow ard her closed door. “ H e’s . . . upstairs,” Paul mumbled, avoiding eye contact. They both knew outsiders, even cops, were supposed to re­ strict their contact with inmates to the main floor. T hat meant the visitors’ room , the dining room , N a t’s office, or one of the small private cubicles down the hall that were primarily used by inmates and their attorneys. T o N a t’s knowledge, Leo had never met with Suzanne in her room . M aybe they were upstairs in one o f the inmate lounges. There were seven bedroom s on the two w om en’s floors. Tw o

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triples, three doubles, two singles. Allowing for a m ax of fourteen female inmates. The female inmate count, at the moment, w as twelve. N ot counting Lynn Ingram. Tw o more female inmates were due by the end of the week. Giving them a full count. Again, omitting Lynn. When she returned— if she returned— N at would have to figure out a way to squeeze her back in. T hat w as the least o f her problem s now. Suzanne and Lynn had the double at the end of the hall on the third floor, across from a small lounge which consisted o f a couple o f worn but serviceable couches, a TV, a small fridge, microwave, and a pantry. N at w as more than a little dismayed to see that the space w as empty. The door to Suzanne’s room w as closed shut. N at hesitated outside the door, thinking, D o I knock? D o I barge right in? A wave of anger sw ept over her. She w as the superintendent of this institution. She w as not an intruder. She w as not the one breaking the rules. She w as not the one behaving inappropriately. Why, in G od’s name, should she w arn them o f her arrival? She didn’t exactly barge into the room , but neither did she knock first. She merely opened the door and stepped inside. Suzanne and Leo were sitting on Suzanne’s bed. H is arms were w rapped around her, and she w as crying softly into his chest. Neither o f them appeared to be aw are of N a t’s arrival. N a t’s first instinct w as to make a hasty exit. Because, damn it, she did feel like an intruder. And that w as not the only thing she w as feeling. Add anger, despair, jealousy, betrayal, abandon­ ment. Predictable em otions, the whole lot o f them. And all too dam n familiar. Only now they were even more intense. It w as not only that Leo was embracing the beautiful young mother o f his child. It w as also the look on his face. H is eyes were closed and his expression— at least, N a t’s interpretation of

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his expression— w as one of pained longing. In all the time she’d known Leo, N at had never seen that m ix of anguish and desire on his face. As if finally sensing her presence, L eo’s eyes opened and he gazed straight at N at. H e didn’t look particularly surprised. W orse, he didn’t look particularly abashed. N or did he m ake any attem pt to break aw ay from the embrace. A s for Suzanne, either she w as still oblivious to N a t’s pres­ ence, or she simply didn’t care. Her crying, more a mewing sound now, continued unabated. W ithout a word, N at exited the room , leaving the door open. H er one concession to her anger.

“ The hospital called,” Paul LaM otte informed N at as soon as she reentered the office.

.

M om ents ago, she had been lost in self-pity. Instantly her full attention w as on Lynn Ingram. Anticipating her question, Paul said, “ The doc didn’t tell me anything.” N at w as acutely aw are of the tremor shooting down her spinal column. “ I’ll get her on the phone for yo u ,” her clerk said. She nodded and headed into her office, shutting the door be­ hind her. The instant the button on her phone went yellow, she snatched up the receiver. “ Dr. M ad iso n ?” “ She’s regained consciousness, Superintendent.” N at sank back against her chair. “ Thank G o d ,” she m ur­ mured.

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There w as a brief pause before Ellen M adison continued. “ Lynn’s not out of the w oods yet. N o t by a long shot, I’m afraid. ” “ W hat do you m ean?” “ There’s no guarantee she w on’t slip back into a com atose state. If she remains stabilized over the next forty-eight hours, the picture will be a lot brighter. O f course, Lynn will still face continuing risks after that, given the number of reconstructive surgical procedures she’s going to need. But that’s down the road. We need to take it a day at a time. T oday is a lot better than yesterday. ” “ Is she . . . aware o f w hat happened to her?” “ I’ve given her a very sketchy overview. I doubt she’s taken it all in. Which is just as well. As superficial as I deliberately w as, it’s still an awful lot to absorb at once. W e’re dealing here with psychological traum a added to an already severe physical traum a. She’ll have plenty enough of that to cope with when she becomes aware o f the devastating results o f her injuries.” “ H as she said anything about the attack ?” “ Lynn says she has no memory of the attack. Which is quite comm on in these kinds o f traum a situations.” “ But the memory loss is tem porary, righ t?” N a t’s door opened. Leo walked in. Even as she tried to con­ tinue focusing solely on the doctor’s answer, she could feel her heart slam against her chest. “ It can be tem porary,” Dr. M adison w as saying. “ But there’s no guarantee. And even if it is tem porary, there’s no w ay to gauge how long it might take for her to remember. It could be days, weeks, months, even years.” “ I see,” N at muttered, watching Leo close the door behind him.

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“ D on ’t forget, also, Lynn’s on heavy-duty pain m edication,” M adison added. “ It’ll be several days before we have a clearer picture of her mental state.” “ Can I come over and see her?” “ I’d rather you waited until tom orrow .” “ First thing in the m orning?” “ Check in with me first.” The surgeon’s tone immediately brought back the doctor’s warning that Lynn could slip back into unconsciousness again. “ H as anyone else called about Lynn’s current statu s?” “ H arrison Bell called just before I phoned y o u .” “ You spoke to him personally?” “ Y es.” There w as a brief pause. “ Shouldn’t I have?” Dr. M ad ­ ison asked cautiously. “ D id he ask to see her?” “ N o. He already know s she’s not being allowed any visitors.” “ Anyone else?” “ H er mother, who did ask if she could come in. I told her she’d have to contact the detective in charge of the investigation.” N at w as glad that Ruth Ingram had called and that she wanted to see her child. W ould she tell her husband? N at hoped not. After their little visit, Peter Ingram w as going to be even m ore determined to see to it that his wife distanced herself from Lynn. N at w as also sure he’d be warning his wife, in no uncertain terms, not to cooperate with the police. N at decided to phone her the next day when her husband w as at work and see how far she could get with her. “ I alm ost forgot,” Dr. M adison said. “ I also had a brief word with a priest who told me he’d counseled Lynn while she w as in prison .” “ H e phoned yo u ?”

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“ N o. Actually, he w as at the hospital paying a call on one of his parishioners. He mentioned that he’d counseled Lynn a few times while she w as in prison and asked how she w as doing.” “ W hat did you say ?” N at w asn’t thrilled with w ord spreading that Lynn had regained consciousness, as it might panic her as­ sailant. The physician m ust have picked up on the note of concern in N a t’s voice, because she quickly assured her she’d only told the priest Lynn’s condition was stable. “ I did contact Dr. V ard a’s service, though, and left a message for him ,” M adison said. “ I thought it w as im portant to alert him. Lynn may want to speak to him once awareness of her condition begins to sink in .” “ Right. A bsolutely.” N at wondered, however, how keen Varda w ould be to continue treating his patient after his own attack, the break-in at his apartment, and m ost especially that warning. Everyone, even shrinks— not to mention prison super­ intendents— had their limits. “ H as he called back yet?” “ N o. I only left the m essage for him twenty minutes ago. His service says he usually checks in around six

p .m

.”

When she hung up, N at relayed her conversation with the doctor to Leo. H er tone w as flat, unemotional, perfunctory. What she wanted to do w as throw something at him. Who was she kidding? If she wanted to throw anything at him, it was herself. She wanted to rush into his arm s and have him hold her with the same aching desire he’d felt when he held Suzanne. “ N atalie— ” N at cut him off. She w asn’t ready to hear apologies. O r worse, to hear something that w asn’t an apology. “ W hat about the m ourners?” She was already beginning to mourn the loss of what she’d thought w as a great relationship “ M ou rners?” Leo looked puzzled.

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“ The funeral Rodney Bartlett attended,” she said by w ay of enlightenment. “ Y ou were going to talk to— ” “ Oh, right. N othing solid yet. But we have a couple o f people who don’t remember seeing Bartlett at the end of the funeral. And one w ho— ” He stopped. “ Are we going to talk about this, N atalie?” “ Your lead s?” He scowled. “ Com e on. Y ou know I know you better than that.” “ And you know Suzanne even better than you know m e,” she blurted, instantly regretting her remark. She w as trying not to hit below the belt. Very unbecoming for a prison superintendent. Very demeaning for a w om an who thought she’d possibly found the right man. “ Let’s go back to your place, heat up that Chinese, and talk .” “ I have other p lan s,” she said tightly.

*

“ Bullshit.” He sank down into a chair across from her desk. H is arm s dropped straight down over the sides of the chair. N a t’s heart w as thumping too hard, anger having rapidly given way to panic. D am n it, Leo. Ju st dump me and get it over with. For your sake as much as mine. “ I know how you’re feeling,” he said quietly. “ N o , that’s wrong. I know w hat I’d be feeling in your sh oes.” N at w asn’t even sure these comments were a prelude to talk­ ing about Suzanne. She w asn’t sure of anything at the moment. “ And w hat’s th at?” She heard the scratchiness in her voice, her throat having gone alm ost completely dry. He stared at her unflinchingly. “ Lots o f things. But mostly . . . scared.” As soon as he said it, she realized that w as precisely what she

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w as feeling m ost o f all. The realization instantly brought tears to her eyes. But she rapidly blinked them away. N ow she w as the one who wanted to pull back, to put off the inevitable. “ I don’t think I can handle this now, L eo .” “ You think I’m having an easy time o f it?” he shot back. “ I’m not going to tell you she means nothing to me, N atalie.” “ I’m not asking you to tell me that.” Really, now she w as thinking she didn’t want him to tell her anything. Because once he did, she w as going to have to deal with it. And her plate was already on the verge of overflowing. “ She’s alone. She’s scared. She’s letting herself trust me. Ju st a little. But for Suzanne, even a little is saying som ething.” N at could cope with his listening to w hat Suzanne was feeling. H er problem w as figuring out how to survive what Leo w as feel­ ing. She got up, too fidgety to sit but not sure w hat to do once she w as on her feet. For a w om an who prided herself on being focused, organized, in control, she w as slipping badly. “ I knew this w as a bad idea,” she muttered. “ W hat’s a bad id ea?” Leo stood up as well. “ When Lynn w as attacked, I told you we should cool it. You talked me out o f it then. D on ’t w aste your breath trying to do it again .” Leo sighed. She couldn’t tell if it w as an expression of frus­ tration, disappointm ent, relief. Probably a com bination o f all three. He held her gaze for a few beats. She didn’t look aw ay even though she wanted to. “ And from now on, Leo, when you want to talk with an inmate at this institution— any inmate— you’re to see them here on the main floor.”

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Again he made no response. She reached for her bag. She didn’t know where she w as going except that she w as getting out of there. She skirted around her desk and headed for the door. Leo didn’t budge. “ I need an update on your talk with the head nurse at Bell’s place, N atalie.” “ T om orrow .”

“Jack . W hat are you doing here?” N at stepped aw ay from her front door, and her deputy walked into her apartment. It was after nine

P .M .

“ Well, let’s see. You breezed into the center at nine-thirty this morning, left at ten-fifteen, dropped back in after seven this eve­ ning, and were gone again less than an hour later. We didn’t even get a moment to touch b ase.” He headed into her liying room without waiting for an invitation. N at followed him. “ You read the note I left for you about Lynn Ingram ?” “ Yeah, I read your note. You might have dropped by my office to tell me in person that she regained consciousness.” “ I . . . uh . . . had some things to d o .” “ Y o u ’re a lousy liar, N at. I know about L eo’s little tete-a-tete with Suzanne. She told m e.” “ D id sh e?” She tried to sound nonchalant, but Jack w as right. She w as a lousy liar. She dropped into her club chair. “ W ant a drink?” Jack asked. “ Y es.” He knew where she kept her booze. And he knew that scotch straight up was her drink of choice when she was in need o f a drink.

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It w as Ja c k ’s pick as well. When he w as in need of a drink. H e brought her the scotch. A Perrier for himself. Well, at least one o f them w ould stay sober tonight. Ja ck m ade himself com fortable on the couch. “ Y ou want to talk about it?” “ N o .” She punctuated her answer with several throat-burning sw allow s of scotch. “ H ow about something to eat?” “ N o .” “ W anna take a drive? Catch a flick? Play some miniature golf? Sink into depression?” “ N o, no, no. Y es.” “ Love. Ain’t it a bitch?” She finished off the drink. “ G o home, Jack . I’m going to be lousy com pany tonight.” He rose to his feet. Even though she had pretty much ordered him to leave, she felt an immediate pang of disappointment. As much as one part of her felt like spending her evening wallowing in self-pity, another part of her didn’t want to be alone. M aybe it w as just that she couldn’t handle any more feelings o f aban ­ donment for one day. “ Well, you m ay not be hungry,” Jack said, “ but I am. What have you got in your fridge?” N at knew he m ust have seen the flash of relief on her face, but for once she didn’t care that she w as so transparent. And at least he had the good sense not to rub it in. After a few minutes she follow ed him into the kitchen, partly to get a refill. Jack had the bottle o f scotch on the counter. At the ready. H e w as at the stove scram bling up some eggs. “ Y ou had some Chinese food in the fridge, but it didn’t seem like the right food for the way you’re feeling.”

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I f you only knew, N at thought. She poured herself another stiff drink. “ Y ou look so dom es­ tic.” Jack glanced over his shoulder. “ Y ou sound surprised.” She leaned against the counter, watching him sprinkle Par­ m esan cheese over the cooking eggs. “ Y ou never impressed me as a m an who knew his w ay around a kitchen.” “ There are a lot of things you don ’t know about me, N a t.” She took another long sw allow of scotch, hoping to dispel her premonition that something w as about to shift in her relationship with Jack Dwyer. Whether she liked it or not. N o , that w asn’t it. Given her current state of mind, not to mention the current state o f her relationship— or lack thereof— with Leo Coscarelli, N at w as afraid she might like it, at least like feeling wanted. At the same time, she knew it would not be a wise move. For either o f them.

*

Jack took two plates out of the cupboard. “ M aybe you’ll change your m ind,” he said. “ N o than ks.” Ignoring her, he divided the scram bled eggs between them. The gesture m ade her angry. She snatched up one of the plates and dumped the contents into the trash. “ I said no than ks.” She slamm ed the plate on the counter with so much force, it shat­ tered. Jack cam e over to her. “ G o home. Please, Jack . J u s t . . . go hom e.” He pulled her into his arms. Even as she w as hating herself for being so w eak, she folded herself into his embrace. “ Dam n you, Ja c k ,” she muttered, as an image flashed before her eyes of the two o f them em bracing soon after M aggie’s murder. An em ­

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brace born out of a desperate need on both their parts to be com forted. Only, that need changed. O r maybe it merely ex ­ panded. But that time, N at came to her senses before she made a mistake she felt certain she would come to regret. Tonight her mind seemed less in control than it had been then. She blamed it on the two strong drinks. But even as she did, she knew it w as a lie. A cop-out. A need to displace the blame so she w ouldn’t feel guilty and asham ed of herself. Like she was really going to avoid those feelings. M uch to her chagrin, it w as Jack who drew back this time. He held her at arm ’s length. He w as still smiling. But now his smile w as tinged merely with sympathy. “ Y o u ’re going to be okay, N a t.” “ I said alm ost those same w ords to my sister this m orning.” My sister. Oh, G od, I totally fo r g o t . . . Lunch. I w as supposed to have lunch with her today. And I didn’t even remember to call and explain why I couldn’t meet her. N ow N at w as really feeling guilty. “ N at? W hat’s w ron g?” She w as pushing Ja ck out of the w ay as she made a beeline for the phone. Guilt vied with worry as she punched in Rachel’s number. One ring. Tw o rings. Three. “ H ello?” “ Rach. Oh Rach, I’m so sorry.” “ N at? Is that y o u ?” Her sister’s voice sounded weirdly chip­ per. “ I m issed our lunch. The thing is, I had this day of nonstop interviews, one o f them out in Westfield and then . . . Anyway, our lunch date completely skipped my mind. Are you okay, Rach? Did you tell the k id s?”

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“ I’m in the middle o f dinner, N a t.” “ Please don’t be angry, R ach .” “ D on ’t be silly, N at. Listen, G ary and the kids are starving. I’ve really got to g o .” “ Gary? D id you say . . . ? H e’s b ack ?” “ Be right off, darling,” N at heard her sister cheerily calling out to the prodigal husband. “ G otta go, N at. Speak to you soon. T ake care.” “ Yeah. R ight.” N at stared at the phone for a moment before she hung up. “ Everything okay with your sister?” Jack asked solicitously. “ She thinks so ,” N at muttered, determined to have a serious talk with her sister ASAP. Jack w alked over to her. T ook hold of her hand. Pressed it against his chest. She tried to sw allow down the lump that had suddenly lodged itself in her throat. She’d never been good at dealing with the bestow al of tenderness. She w as certain that lack came from rarely having experienced tenderness as a child. H er mother w as too em otionally disturbed, her father usually too drunk. Ja c k leaned in, kissed her lightly on the forehead. H ad he pulled her into his arm s and ravaged her lips, she’d have felt less vulnerable. Less weepy. She turned away, determined not to let him see how much he w as getting to her. “ Your eggs are getting cold.” “ I’ll nuke ’em. And then I’ll eat and you’ll get me up to speed on w hat’s happening with the investigation. And then I’ll give you a quick update on the H ou se.” She nodded gratefully. Yes. T alk about the investigation. A respite. Keep the conversation off her and Leo. O ff her and Jack.

fourteen Thirty-six states, the District o f Columbia, and the fed­ eral government have laws specifically prohibiting sex­ ual relations between staff and inmates. A number o f the laws prohibit staff-inmate sexual contact regardless o f inmate consent, recognizing that such sexual rela­ tions cannot be truly consensual because o f the power that staff have over inmates. A m n e s t y In t e r n a t i o n a l

AF TE R GE T TI N G THE

okay from Dr. M adison the next morning to

visit with Lynn for a few minutes, N at called the center and told her clerk she’d be in around ten-thirty. It w as now a few minutes before nine. Leo had left at a little past seven

a .m

.

She w as still

half asleep, but she’d offered to get up and make him some break­ fast. He kissed her lightly on the lips and told her he’d have a bite at home. N at knew he liked to spend some time with Jakey before his mother drove the boy to nursery school. It w asn’t until after Leo left that N at felt any twinge of regret. N othing had changed after all. They hadn’t talked about Suz­ anne, but they were going to have to. At some point. However,

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given all her other worries, N at w as happy to relegate that dis­ cussion to the back burner for the time being. When N at arrived at the ICU, she w as surprised but pleased to see that R oss V arda w as already there, sitting at Lynn’s bed­ side. She hesitated at the door, thinking Lynn might want to speak privately with her psychiatrist, but Dr. Varda m otioned for N at to come over. N at tried to prepare herself for her first look at Lynn since her attack, but there w as really no w ay to prepare for such a thing. All she could do w as hope that she could keep her ex­ pression from giving aw ay her feelings of shock and horror at the butchery that had been done to Lynn. N o t that N at could see any of the actual disfigurement. A specially rigged blanket w as draped over Lynn’s body so that she w as covered without suffering the pressure from the weight of the m aterial. So much o f her face w as swathed in bandages that the only areas visible were her eyes and her mouth. In a way, all those dressings— not to mention the disturbing array of tubes she w as hooked up to and the massive am ount of machinery bleep­ ing, blinking, and humming in the background— only served to bring home more powerfully the extent and severity o f the as­ sault. As N at approached the bed, Lynn’s eyes were closed. N at felt a rush of alarm that she had already slipped back into a com atose state. V arda got to his feet. “ She’s asleep,” he said by way of as­ surance. “ H ave you spoken with her at all?” N at asked in a whisper as he offered her the chair. She waved off the invitation to sit. “ For a couple of minutes. She’s heavily medicated, but she did recognize m e.”

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“ T h at’s a very good sign, right?” “ Yes. Yes, it is.” “ And did she say anything about— ?” “ N o. She’s only vaguely aware of where she is, and even vaguer about w hy.” “ Dr. M adison said that’s to be expected. Such severe traum a often produces tem porary memory lo ss.” “ It isn’t always tem porary,” V arda said. Lynn’s eyes fluttered open, and Varda and N at instantly stopped their conversation. N at felt a wrenching sensation in her gut as she saw that Lynn’s eyes were so severely bloodshot, there w as no sign of whiteness around the sharply dilated pupils. “ H i, Lynn,” N a t said softly, hearing the quiver in her voice and hoping Lynn didn’t. N at quickly saw it w as needless to worry. Even though N at w as standing less than a foot aw ay from V arda, Lynn’s .eyes re­ mained fixed on her psychiatrist. It appeared not only that she hadn’t heard N a t’s greeting, but also that Lynn w as oblivious to her presence. “ N atalie Price has come to see you, Lynn.” “ W ho?” she asked in a weak whisper. “ The superintendent of H orizon H ou se,” V arda said gently. Lynn blinked several times, still not pulling her gaze off his. “ W hat’s . . . happening?” “ Y ou remember, Lynn. Y ou’re in the hospital. You were in­ jured. Y ou ’re being looked after.” For an instant, N at thought she detected some sign o f cogni­ tion in Lynn’s eyes. But the brief awareness quickly gave way to a drugged blankness. V arda looked over at N at. “ It will be like this for a w hile.” He returned his gaze to Lynn. “ I’ll come back to see you again

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later. Y ou rest n ow .” He gave N at a reassuring smile, then took a light hold of her arm, meaning to escort her out. “ I’ll stay for a few more m inutes,” she told him. N at could see by his disapproving look that he didn’t think her continued presence w as in the best interest of his patient, but since V arda knew she had Dr. M adison ’s permission to visit, he didn’t argue. H e exited the room , but N at could see through the glass wall that he had chosen to w ait for her in the corridor. “ H ow do you feel, Lynn?” N at sat in the chair V arda had vacated for her. Slowly, Lynn’s eyes shifted in N a t’s direction. The blank look remained. “ D o you know who I am, Lynn?” “ W ho . . . ?” “ I’m N atalie. N atalie Price— ” “W ho . . . did . . . th is?” H aving expected alm ost complete unaw areness, her question took N at by surprise. “ I don’t know, Lynn. But I’m going to find out. I prom ise you that.” She w as shaken by the depth o f ferocity in her voice. Lynn, however, displayed no reaction at all. H er gaze drifted off. A few m oments later, her eyes fluttered closed. N at remained for a bit longer, trying to gain some small measure of com fort from the sound of Lynn’s breathing. When she did leave the room , R oss V arda w as still out in the corridor and he w as not alone. Dr. H arrison Bell w as beside him. They were engaged in a conversation in which neither man looked happy. The police guard outside Lynn’s door w as also standing. He w as not looking too happy himself.

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“ I just want to see Lynn for a m inute,” Bell said to N at the instant she stepped into the hall. “ Detective Coscarelli has already told you— ” “ I know what he told m e,” Bell snapped, garnering a sharp look of disapproval from the nurse at the ICU m onitoring station a few yards away. V arda w as watching N at anxiously. “ D id she say anything m ore?” he interrupted. N at shook her head. Bell w as still on his tear. “ Let the cop here come in with me. H ell,” he said, his voice sounding strained as he fought to keep it under control, “ you can all come in there with me. I just want Lynn to know I’m here. T hat I haven’t abandoned her. T h a t . . . T hat if she needs me— ” He broke off abruptly. Turned away. Stood still for a few m oments, then, cursing under his breath, storm ed off. N at caught V ard a’s eye. She w as pretty sure he w as thinking the sam e thing she w as thinking: that Bell’s anguished outcry was not merely that of a boss or even a good friend. N at w as also thinking that, given the fact that Dr. V arda w as Lynn’s therapist, he m ay have had even m ore reason to be thinking w hat she was thinking. “ I need a cup of coffee,” N at said. “ H ow about y o u ?” “ I’m off caffeine at the moment. Bit of trouble sleeping,” V arda said dryly. “ And I never could see the point of coffee without the caffeine. But I’ll keep you com pany.”

When N at entered the cafeteria, she reflexively looked around to see if there w as a pretty blonde lurking about. Yesterday, L eo’s partner had shown Carrie Li the photo of Beth M ilburne from

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the charity ball, but in that photo Beth’s hair w as in an upsweep and she w as dressed in a sequin-studded gown. Carrie couldn’t m ake a positive ID. O ates had also showed the nurse a photo of H arrison Bell’s wife. Again, Carrie couldn’t say positively, but she was pretty certain Carol Bell w asn’t the w om an she’d seen. “ I w as worried you might want to pull out o f the case,” N at said to Varda once they were settled at a sm all table in the h os­ pital cafeteria. “ Lynn isn’t a ‘case’, ” he chastised. “ She’s my patient. And I have an obligation to continue treating her as long as she wants me to .” “ Even after what happened to you ?” “ There’s no question I w as badly shaken. And frightened. I admit I’m . . . still frightened. But I can ’t let my fear overtake my responsibilities.” N at found herself admiring V arda even as she found his pom ­ pous tone a bit trying. She hesitated and then told him about the drawing that w as slipped under her door. V arda seemed more alarm ed by the warning she’d received than he w as by his own predicament. He bom barded her with questions: When did it ar­ rive? W hat exactly w as the drawing? H ow big w as it? W as there any writing? N at tried to answer in as much detail as she could. “ I’m sure Leo will let you see it,” she said finally. “ H e’s having one o f his profilers have a go at it, but your input m ay be very helpful.” “ H ave the police m ade any progress at all?” he asked, sound­ ing clearly agitated. N at experienced a flash o f anger. “ They might make more progress if you’d cooperate.” H e eyed her sympathetically. “ A detective by the name of

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O ates showed up at my apartm ent this morning with a court order for Lynn’s records. He drove me out to my office at G raf­ ton so I could turn them over to him. I will tell you, I felt nothing so much as relief when I gave them up. I hope to G od it provides them with some leads. If I knew who it w as, I do believe I’d go after the sick bastard myself. There’s nothing worse than feeling like a sitting duck.” “ Tell me about it,” she muttered acerbically.

Ruth Ingram picked up the phone after the third ring. As soon as N at said her name, there w as a cold silence. “ I saw Lynn this m orning,” N at said, pretending not to notice the chill traveling through the line. “ I w asn’t sure if you knew she’d regained consciousness,” she lied. “ I knew ,” Ruth said hoarsely. “ I can’t talk. I have to*—” “ I suppose your husband told you— ” “ Please, I just can ’t . . . I’ve got nothing more to say .” “W ait. D on’t hang up, Ruth. Ju st give me a minute. It’s im­ portant. And I know it’s im portant to you, too. I also know you’re between a rock and a hard place. Ju st tell me one thing.” “ If it’s about Bethany— I didn’t know she’d died.” “ But you know n ow .” N a t’s tone w as sardonic. “ Yes. Peter told me. As he told you, he didn’t think it w as relevant at the time. And I completely agree. I hardly knew the girl. N o t that it isn’t a tragedy. It’s always sad when a life is taken so young.” N at decided she w asn’t going to get more now on the topic o f Bethany, so she switched gears. “ Y ou have a beautiful home, by the way. I w as telling your husband that my sister— ”

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“ W e’re very fortunate. Peter made some very good invest­ m ents.” “ Y ou are fortunate. I didn’t do too badly in the m arket for a while, but unfortunately for me, I didn’t have a large-enough sum o f money to invest in the first place. M y father always used to say, ‘It takes money to make m oney.’ ” Actually, in his sober moments, N a t’s father did, on occasion, say just that. “ Look, if you’re implying— ” Ruth stopped abruptly. “ I really don’t have time to spend on the phone with you, Superinten­ dent.” H er tone w as now sharp, but N at detected an undercur­ rent o f anxiety. “ W hat did you think I w as implying, R u th ?” “ Look, Peter has never discussed money with me. H e’s very old-fashioned that way. N ow , I really have to hang u p .” “Ju st one more quick question: D o you know Daniel M il­ burne, Ruth? D oes your husband know him ?” “ N o ,” she said harshly, quickly. T oo quickly. “ Please don’t call again .” The phone went dead. N at held on to the receiver absently, thinking how interesting it w as that Ruth Ingram, who hadn’t lived in the Boston area for ten years, would respond to that question with such an assured no, rather than ask, Who the hell is D aniel M ilburne? Interesting how one little no could speak volumes. She dropped the receiver back in the cradle, her gaze lowering to a clipping she’d cut out of that m orning’s H erald. An an­ nouncement of a charity luncheon at the Boston H arborside H o ­ tel that afternoon. One o f the organizers o f the luncheon was Beth M ilburne. N at had never crashed a charity luncheon before, but there w as always a first time.

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“ W hat are you doing here on a Saturday?” N at looked up from the clipping, flustered to see Leo standing in the doorw ay of her office. She immediately slipped a case file over the newspaper clipping. Leo might not be too happy to dis­ cover her luncheon plans. “ Catching up on paperw ork. What are you doing here?” She hoped he w asn’t going to ask her to lunch, seeing as how she had another pressing luncheon engagement. Instead o f answering her question, Leo asked, “ H o w ’d it go at the h ospital?” “ O kay— fine. Well, Lynn w as only aw ake for a few moments. V arda was there.” She searched his face, looking for any signs of regret on his part. Leo stepped inside and shut the door. N at quickly gave him a rundown o f her brief visit with Lynn and her equally brief chat with V arda. She emphasized V ard a’s interest in seeing the draw ­ ing. “ I’m still waiting for a report from our psychologist, but I’ll get V arda a copy,” Leo said. She nodded. “ H arrison Bell showed up at the hospital as I w as leaving. Once again, pissed that he couldn’t see Lynn. Clearly a man who doesn’t easily take no for an answ er,” she added. “ I definitely get the feeling there’s something going on between Bell and Lynn. Or, at least, there was something going, on .” As soon as the words were out o f her mouth, she realized the sam e could be said about her and Leo. There w as an aw kw ard silence. N at hurried to fill it in by giving Leo a brief rundown o f her conversation yesterday with Claire Fisher. Another topic they

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hadn’t discussed in the wee hours o f the morning. W ords hadn’t been on last night’s agenda, period. “ I w ouldn’t be surprised if Claire w asn’t secretly in love with Bell herself.” N at hesitated. “ I suppose, if that’s true, it makes Claire a suspect. She could have seen Lynn as a threat. And Claire w asn ’t at w ork on Thursday. She says she w as home nursing a m igraine.” She sighed. “ Ju st what we need. Another suspect.” “ Suzanne went to w ork tod ay ?” “ W hat?” L eo’s sudden shift to the inmate caught her off­ guard. But not for long. O f course. Leo hadn’t come over to see her. The only person at this center who w as on his mind right now was the mother o f his child. “ Suzanne— ” N at raised a hand to stop him from repeating the question. “ Y es,” she said crisply. “ Hutch dropped her off and he’s picking her up when she’s finished for the d ay .” So far, Suzanne had received no threats, but they weren’t taking any chances. Leo nodded. He looked tired. Well, neither of them had ex­ actly had much sleep last night. But N at suspected that L eo’s weariness had more to do with worrying about Suzanne than it did lack of sleep. And, she suspected, her own weariness had more to do with worrying about Leo. W anting him. H ating herself for wanting him. Round and round in a vicious cycle. A cycle that she’d been through before and didn’t want to repeat. Leo cut into her thoughts. “ O ates and I are meeting with Bell’s wife this afternoon. Thought you might like to tag alon g.” “ Your partner’s never been particularly thrilled to have me tagging alon g.” “ Actually, O ates thinks having another w om an present might make Carol Bell feel m ore . . . com fortable.”

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N at didn’t believe for a second that this w as O ates’s opinion, but she w asn’t going to argue about it. N o r w as she about to let it go to her head that Leo wanted her along. It w as nothing personal, she told herself. Leo knew damn well she w as a good observer. And given the opportunity, she could ask the kind of probing questions that often got positive results. “ W hat time are you going over there?” she asked, hoping it would be late enough for her to drop in at the charity luncheon first. “ Tw o o ’clock.” “ Fine. T h at’s great.” “ I’ll swing by here, then, at, say, one-thirty?” “ G reat.” Leo appeared in no hurry to leave. “ O r I could come by ear­ lier. We could have lunch— ” “ I can’t ,” she said quickly. “ T oo much w ork.”

_

Leo gave her an assessing look. “ Y ou aren’t giving me the brush-off again— ” Her office door opened before she could respond to L eo’s question— not that she had a response— and Jack came waltzing in. Leo w as standing off to the side o f the door, so Jack didn’t spot him immediately. “ H ow you doin g?” he asked N at. Both the tone of his voice and his smile reflected unm istakable warmth. Jack had wanted to stay over last night. Even though she’d sent him off, he’d seemed more optimistic about a future invite. A little shiver ran down N a t’s spine as she thought of what might have happened if Jack had stayed the night and the two men had met up in her apartm ent. It w as tense enough whenever they encountered each other in her office.

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N a t’s eyes darted over to Leo. Ja c k ’s eyes followed. “ O h ,” he said, all signs o f warmth obliterated.

The charity luncheon for W omen Against Domestic Violence was being held in a private ballroom at the glitzy H arborside Hotel. The doors to the room were closed. N at hesitated, worrying that there’d be som eone on the other side checking names off the invitation list. She could always claim there’d been a mistaken om ission and show her ID. Who w as going to turn aw ay a cor­ rections official? She breathed a sigh o f relief as she opened one o f the doors. N o one w as on duty. N a t’s hope w as that if she showed up to the charity function early enough— while the luncheon guests were still in the meetand-greet phase and hadn’t yet sat down at the tables in their assigned seats— she w ouldn’t have a problem party-crashing. She w as right. W ell-groomed women of all ages were chatting in small groups around the spacious dining hall. N o one blinked an eye as N at wove slowly, casually, around the beautifully set tables as if she were looking for the right little group. Whenever any of the women caught her eye they nodded and smiled as if they knew her. Because they were supposed to know everyone here. Because anyone attending this pricey little charity luncheon w as someone worth knowing. N at nodded and smiled right back, trying to act as if she had pockets as deep as the rest of them. They’d probably drop dead on the spot if they got a glimpse of her current checkbook bal­ ance. Let’s just say being a civil servant w as not going to make her a wealthy wom an. N o t that she w as complaining. She m ade

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a decent salary and she did w ork she felt w as valuable and re­ warding. M ost of the time. As it turned out, it w asn ’t Beth M ilburne who caught N a t’s eye first. It w as the w om an with whom Beth w as engaged in an earnest one-on-one conversation— a wom an N at had also never met in person but had seen on a number of occasions on televi­ sion and in the newspaper. Beth M ilburne w as standing with the supposedly reclusive philanthropist from M arth a’s Vineyard, Jennifer Slater. Well, well, well. T alk about killing two birds with one stone. Unfortunately, it probably would be easier to kill them than to get either of the pair to talk to her. N ow what? N at was acutely aware that she’d spent a lot of time thinking about getting in here and not enough time figuring w hat she’d accom plish once she’d crashed the party. Time w as running short. The meet-and-greet phase w ouldn’t last much longer. N at had to make a move and m ake it now. She m ade a beeline for the pair. “Jennifer. Jennifer Slater. H ow nice to see yo u .” N at gave the w om an a big, w arm smile, then turned to her com panion. “ And you, too, Bethany. Hey, didn’t I spot you the other day over at the cafeteria in Boston G eneral?” “ It’s Beth,” the councilm an’s wife responded snappishly. “ Beth M ilburne. And I’ve been out of town for the past few days. Y ou m ust have me confused with someone else.” N at went right on smiling. “ But your maiden name is Colm an, righ t?” “ S o ?” Beth challenged. “ And your m om ’s maiden name is G raham , isn’t it? Andrea G raham ? From San Jo se, C aliforn ia?” N at had spent some time

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that m orning doing a bit of homework on Bethany G raham ’s family tree. Beth M ilburne looked like she’d like to take a swing at N at. Instead, she held her arm s rigidly at her side, “ M y m other’s name w as L illian. She died a while ago. And she w as from Chicago. Y ou obviously have me confused with someone else.” N at shrugged. “ Oh, well, those things happen.” Her focus shifted back to M atthew Slater’s widow. “ But I know I don’t have you confused with someone else. Y ou are Jennifer Slater, righ t?” “ Y es,” the w om an said guardedly. “ And you are— ?” “ I knew your husband, M att. It w as tragic, w hat happened to him ,” N at said, acting oblivious to Jennifer’s question. “ I’m sure you’ve heard on the news what happened to his . . . well, the w om an w ho’s serving time for his murder. Lynn Ingram .” Jennifer Slater’s com plexion turned ashen. Beth M ilburne glared at N at as if she had the manners of a heathen. “W ho are yo u ?” she demanded. N at kept her cool but figured she w as fast using up her time. “ An acquaintance o f Jennifer’s brother, Rod. I just stopped by to say h i.” Jennifer’s eyes narrowed. “ N o one calls my brother R o d .” “ Really? It’s just a nickname. Ju st like Beth. Beth is short for something, righ t?” “ Elizabeth,” M ilburne said acidly. “ I still didn’t catch— ” But before she finished her sentence, N at looked past her as if spotting som eone else she knew. She waved cheerily. The w om an who caught N a t’s eye waved back. N aturally, she thought she should know who N at was. As N at hurriedly m ade

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her way over to the w om an, she w as sure both Jennifer and Beth were follow ing her every step. “ H i,” N at greeted the w om an warmly. “ Tell me, do you have any idea where the rest room is in this place?”

fifteen Inmate 43906 (Lynn Ingram) has been treated for facial abrasions which she states resulted from having tripped oi>er a crack and falling in the prison yard. That would make it her fourth accident this week. J a n ic e R y a n ,

C AR O L BELL R E G A R D E D

R.N ., CCI

G ra fto n

them warily at the doorw ay of her brick G eor­

gian colonial on a quiet, upscale, suburban, tree-lined street in New ton, a town fifteen minutes west of Boston. The first thing N at noticed about H arrison Bell’s wife w as that she looked even more athletic in person than she had in that family photo on her husband’s desk. She w as dressed much like she had been in that photo. Black spandex shorts and a red jersey, both of which hugged her m uscular frame. Her cheeks were flushed, like she had just returned from biking or a run. Although, upon seeing the three of them at her doorstep, her face w as rapidly losing its healthy glow.

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C arol looked older in person. Older than in the photo on her husband’s desk. Older— at least appearancew ise— than her hus­ band. Possibly by several years. N at also noted that while C arol’s hair had been blonde in the picture, it was now a medium shade o f brown, worn severely pulled back from her face and fixed with an elastic. The only accessories the doctor’s wife w as wearing were a pair o f sm all gold loops in her pierced ears and a diamondstudded wedding band. N a t’s gaze w as drawn to that band, not because it w as particularly eye-catching— the diam onds were modest-size chips— but because C arol Bell w as absently twisting it as she scrutinized the two detectives’ IDs. “ I don’t really understand why you need to come here,” she said. H er lips, already thin, alm ost disappeared as she pressed them together. In direct contradiction to O ates’s supposed belief that N a t’s presence would make Carol more com fortable, she seemed to regard N at with even more suspicion than she did the two detectives. “ I thought you’d prefer it to having to make a statement at the station, M rs. Bell,” Leo said pleasantly. H is casual tone immediately put C arol Bell on the defensive, as N at w as sure Leo knew it would. C arol’s cold expression in­ stantly gave w ay to nervousness. “ I already . . . m ade a state­ ment. M y husband and I were on the phone— ” “ M ay we please come inside?” Leo interrupted. When she hesitated, he added, “ I don’t think you want your neighbors see­ ing us all discussing police m atters on the street.” H e emphasized the w ord police. Carol Bell’s cheeks regained their flush, but this time it w as not the result of exercise. N at w asn ’t sure if C arol w as em bar­ rassed, alarm ed, or angry. Probably a com bination of all o f the

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above. Whatever em otions she w as experiencing, the doctor’s wife did begrudgingly step aside and let them in. “ Are you home alon e?” O ates asked as they entered a wide foyer painted a soft blue. “ Yes. M y boys are at sports practices. M y daughter’s playing next door. And I dism issed my cleaning lady early.” She sounded much aggrieved as she announced the latter, although, as N at glanced around, she didn’t detect so much as a smidgen o f dirt on the glistening w ood floor. From where she w as standing N at could also see a spotless dining room through an elegant archway on the right and an equally ordered living room through a m atch­ ing archway on the left. At the front of the living room , sitting just inside the bay window w as a m ahogany baby grand whose surface had been polished to a high sheen. A fresh bouquet of irises artfully arranged in a gleaming silver vase sat atop the piano. On its best day, N a t’s place didn’t look a fraction this clean and tidy. And she didn’t live with three active children. Then again, she did have a ram bunctious dog who had a particular fondness for gnawing on the wooden legs o f her furniture. Still, N at would take H annah anytime over a husband who had a fondness for gnawing on her heart. C arol Bell m ade no move to escort them into either the living room or dining room . Arms folded firmly against her chest, she planted herself in the foyer near the wide, curved staircase lead­ ing to the second floor. “ As I’ve already stated on the phone to that officer there” — she pointed at O ates, who w as standing closer to the door, notepad and pen in hand— “ H arrison and I were on the phone— ” “ Y our phone records indicate no outgoing calls this past Thursday between eleven

a .m

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and one

p .m

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Although L eo’s tone w as mild, with no attempt at provoca­ tion, you’d never know it to look at C arol Bell’s expression. She looked as though she’d been challenged to a duel and w asn ’t at all prepared for the challenge. “ I . . . I didn’t call . . . from home. I w as at Jo sh ’s school. They’d called me in. You can check with the principal if you don’t believe me. I . . . I called from a phone booth across the street from the school.” “ W hy?” Leo asked. “ Because I w as very upset— ” “ N o .” H e cut her off. “ I mean, why not call from the prin­ cipal’s office?” C arol looked at him like he w as clueless. “ Because I didn’t want the principal or the office secretaries knowing my business, that’s w hy.” “ And you were upset because your boy got suspended from school.” “ M en ,” she muttered under her breath. Leo gave her a baffled look. “ You, my husband, even the principal— also a m an— think it’s no big thing if your son gets into a fight and is suspended from school. ‘It happens,’ you all say. ‘Boys will be boys. Espe­ cially teenage boys.’ Well, I’m sorry, but I do happen to think it’s a big deal.” “ I agree with y o u ,” N at said. Partly because it w as true, and partly because she w as hoping to encourage a woman-to-woman connection with C arol Bell. N at thought she’d m anaged the latter to some extent, because as C arol looked her way, her expression softened. “Jo sh has never gotten into trouble before. H e’s a good boy. An A student. At least he w as, until . . . ” “ Until when?” Leo prodded when she hesitated.

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C arol began absently twisting her wedding band again. “ H e’s fourteen. Boys at fourteen, they start thinking they know it all. And suddenly it’s not cool to be smart. T o get good grades. T o show up with your hom ew ork done.” “ So this is pretty recent,” Leo said. “ This semester. N o t right off. N o , Jo sh started ninth grade on the right foot. But then . . . I don’t know . . . he started acting up, not just at school but at home, too. Sassing us. Especially me. O f course, I’m the one w ho’s home all the time, so naturally I get the brunt of it.” N $t picked up a tinge of resentment in her voice. So H arrison isn’t home much. But then, what doctor is? Still— “ Does Jo sh know Lynn Ingram ?” Leo asked. L eo’s question clearly threw C arol Bell for a loop. H er face went alm ost as gray as her blouse. “ I don’t understand . . . your question. Jo sh has nothing to do with t h a t . . . with her. W hat are you trying to do here?” “ I w as just thinking, if Jo sh does know Lynn— and I imagine he w ould— he’s probably quite upset about what happened to her.” “ W e’re . . . W e’re a l l . . . quite upset,” she stammered. “ Right, there’s your younger son, Billy, and your little girl, D aphne, isn’t it?” She glared at N at. “ M y children have absolutely nothing to do with . . . with— ” She left off abruptly, her expression turning grimmer. “ I don’t have anything more to say .” She briskly checked her watch. “ I have to pick up my boys. Their practices are alm ost over.” She plucked up a ring o f keys from a crystal bowl sitting on her oak hall table. “ I hope this is settled now. M y husband and I were on the phone discussing Jo sh when . . . when that terrible incident took place. H arrison

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has told me he’s . . . under suspicion— ” She w as clutching the keys so tightly, N at w ouldn’t have been surprised if one of them didn’t cut through her skin. “ I hope my corroboration— yet again— finally puts an end to such a ridiculous notion. H arrison has nothing b u t . . . but the highest regard for Lynn Ingram .” “ Despite the fact she’s a confessed m urderer?” N at asked, put­ ting a touch of incredulity in her voice. “ H arrison says it w as self-defense.” Her anger gave way to a kind o f exhaustion. “ M y husband is very loyal.” “ Do you believe it w as self-defense?” N at asked. C arol merely regarded her with a tired expression. “ I believe that a man is dead, M s. Price. D ead at the hands o f Lynn In­ gram . ” “ Did you ever worry for your husband’s safety?” C arol Bell stared at N at in silence for several moments. “ I w as very much against H arrison taking Lynn b ack ,” she finally said in a quiet, even voice. “ I told him as much. But like I said, my husband is a very loyal man. As well as a stubborn one. When he m akes up his mind to do something, or about someone, there is nothing or no one who can change it.” Then she added, both pointedly and rather poignantly, “ Especially m e.”

“ Y ou did good in there.” N at gave Leo a sideways glance as she settled into the p as­ senger seat of his car. O ates had taken off in his own vehicle. “ T h an ks.” “ So, w hat do you think?” A loaded question if ever there w as one. Leo knew it, too. So he quickly added, “ A bout the Bells.” “ Your typical married couple,” she said ruefully. “ They don’t

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spend much time together; when they do, they make a lot of small talk; she feels m isunderstood, he feels beleaguered; he wants less, she wants m ore— ” “ Less and more of w h at?” She smiled wryly. “ Involvement.” Leo m ade no response. They were both aware that as she was describing the Bells’ relationship, she might as easily be describ­ ing her own past m arriage. He pulled out from the curb and began following the route back to the M ass Pike. “ V arda told me O ates picked up his therapy records on Lynn this morning. Anything useful there?” she asked. “ I haven’t had a chance to go through them yet. There’s a copy for you on the backseat. Read it through and we’ll com pare notes.” He paused briefly before adding, “ Come have dinner to ­ night at my place.” She looked over at him, but L eo’s eyes remained fixed on the road. “ I don’t think so ,” she said quietly. Spending more time with L eo’s family would only complicate an already-too-complicated situation. “ Com e by the center tom orrow and w e’ll talk in my office.” “ T om orrow ’s Sunday,” he reminded her. “ I know. But I’m still buried in w ork. And I haven’t been at the center much in the past few day s.” When Leo pulled up in front of H orizon H ouse fifteen silent minutes later, N at reached behind for V ard a’s records, then opened her door. “Jakey asked after you this morning. He wanted to know when he w as going to be seeing you again .” She glanced over her shoulder at Leo. “ N ext time he’s here

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visiting his m other.” Which w ould be the next day. Jakey and his grandm a hadn’t m issed a Sunday visit yet. “ That m ay be some tim e,” Leo said. “Why is that? They always come on Sunday.” She didn’t add that Leo hadn’t missed many Sunday visits himself. Leo sighed. “ Y o u ’ll have to ask Suzanne. She phoned this m orning and told me she doesn’t want my mother or Jakey to visit for a while.” “ And yo u ?” Leo didn’t respond. Which w as response enough for N at.

“ W hat’s u p ?” Jack sauntered across N a t’s office and perched himself on the corner o f her desk. “ I’ve been going over the notes Dr. V arda kept o f his therapy sessions with Lynn Ingram .” “ Com e up with anything interesting?” “ M ayb e.” She riffled through the pages until she found the one she w as looking for. “ This is from their sixth session. Goes back to about two months after Lynn w as placed in isolation. Listen. I want to read you a few highlights.” Jack nodded. “ ‘Lynn is quite depressed today. Says she isn’t sleeping well. Reports several nights of bad dream s. Reluctant to talk about them. D oes adm it to a com m on thread in all of them— being cut u p.’ ” She heard Ja c k ’s sharp intake of breath. A very similar response to the one she’d had when she first read those w ords. “ D oes she say who w as cutting her up in her dream ?” he asked. “ If she did, it’s not in his notes. V arda connected it to her sex-change operation.”

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“ Shrinks,” Jack muttered disdainfully “ But there’s something else interesting. Here: ‘Lynn becomes noticeably agitated when I question her about her visit yesterday with H arrison Bell. I ask if she’d prefer he didn’t visit, but that only increases her agitation. Finally, she says, “ He needs m e.” She refuses to elaborate.’ ” “ Bell is our man. I can feel it,” Jack said. “ I’ve been around enough o f these psycho creeps to know one when I see on e.” “ Feelings w on’t convict him. Besides, we aren’t at a loss for suspects in this case. Bell is definitely not alone on the list.” x Jack smiled sardonically. “ N ow you sound like your boy­ friend.” She gave her deputy a sharp look. “ Leave it, Ja c k .” Jack held up his hands in m ock surrender. “ Sorry.” Her phone rang. She w as happy for the interruption. Her happiness w as short-lived.

sixteen Some o f the inmates felt sorry for me. My roommate, certainly. But what could Suzanne do? What could I dd? What could any o f us do? We were all afraid. We all had plenty o f reason to be afraid. L. I.

" O K A Y , " N AT SAID

sharply, “ take me through it again. From the

to p .” Hutch knew his boss well enough to know that her biting tone m asked extreme agitation bordering on panic. So he merely shrugged, broad shoulders stretching the fabric o f his khaki shirt. H e looked from N at to Jack , then back to her again. They were standing in a secluded corner of the sm all lobby of M ercy M ed­ ical Center, a small hospital located on Beacon Street, two blocks south of New bury. N at w as starting to spend more time in the city’s hospitals than she did in her own office. “ I get to the boutique maybe ten minutes to five, park outside

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right at the curb, my eyes on the front d o o r,” Hutch said. “ When I dropped her off this morning, she asked if I could w ait outside for her when I cam e to pick her u p .” “ W hy’s th at?” Jack interrupted. Hutch cocked his head. “ I don’t exactly look like your typical upscale boutique customer. I figured my presence w ould make her feel self-conscious.” He laughed sharply. “ N ow I figure it differently. ” “ G o on ,” N at prodded, wanting to focus on the details right now and not her C O ’s analysis. “ So, anyway, she says she’ll be out at five sharp. Five sharp comes, no Suzanne. I w ait about five more minutes and— I don’t know, I get this uneasy feeling— so I go into the shop. “ It’s empty. D oo r’s unlocked, and I mean the place is empty. N o custom ers. N o Suzanne. The owner, w hat’s her name, Jo an H ayw ard, she’s nowhere to be found, either. I call out. Nothing. I gotta tell you, it spooked m e.” N at opened her mouth, but before she could get so much as a w ord out, Hutch jumped in. “ Yeah, I know. I shoulda called the cops there and then. But I didn’t so let’s move on .” They eyeballed each other for a couple o f moments and then he continued: “ I go into the back room. N obody. Then I see the door to w hat I figure is the bathroom. I think at first it’s locked. But when I give it the old heave-ho it starts to budge. And then I realize why it’s so hard to open. Suzanne’s spraw led on the floor right behind it.” H utch shook his head. “ When I finally m anaged to get inside, I thought, at first, she w as a goner. M an, w as I relieved when I picked up a pulse. Then I spotted the w orks on the floor. Shit, I really thought that kid had gotten it together. But I guess ‘Once a junkie alw ays a junkie.’ ”

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“ It w as my dam n c ar,” Jo an H ayw ard, the attractive thirty-eightyear-old owner o f Viva, said, looking badly shaken. “ The lot I park in closes at five on Saturdays and since I stay open until six, I always dash out at around four-thirty to move the car to an on-the-street space. It’s usually no problem because a lot o f p eo­ ple are leaving by then and I alm ost always find a spot close b y.” “ But this time you couldn’t find a sp o t?” “ N o , that w asn’t the problem. When I got to my car, it w ouldn’t start. It’s a ’ninety-eight V olvo, totally reliable until today. I had to call the auto club to come and see if they could start it. Or otherwise tow it. Then I called the shop to let Suzanne know I’d be late getting back and could she please stay overtime, but no one picked up. I assum ed she w as busy with a customer. But I called back several more times and still couldn’t get her on the phone. I got worried. So I gave the attendant at the parking garage my cell-phone number and a hefty tip to stick around and w ait for the auto-club guy to show up and to call me when he got there. It m ust have been about five-fifteen when I arrived back at the shop, just in time to see an ambulance pulling aw ay from the curb.” Tears spiked Jo an H ayw ard’s eyes. “ I still can’t believe Suz­ anne would . . . ” She paused to rummage in her large leather tote bag until she cam e up with an unopened cellophane-wrapped package of tissues. She ran a finely manicured nail along the score m arks to open it, then pulled out a tissue. But she merely clutched it in her hand. “ Why now? At the shop of all places? I mean, Suzanne couldn’t know I’d be detained. I’m usually back within ten minutes, fifteen at the most. It doesn’t make sense. It just doesn’t m ake any sense at all.”

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She gave N at a searching look as if she could explain it. But she couldn’t. It didn’t m ake any sense to N at, either.

“ She’s a very lucky young w om an ,” the intern said soberly, close to an hour after Suzanne had been rushed into the emergency room . “ When they brought her in, I didn’t think she had a prayer.” Leo, who w as standing beside N at, didn’t say a w ord, but she could feel the tension and relief emanating from him. She’d called him as soon as they’d gotten to the hospital. It took him close to twenty minutes to m ake it over there because o f the rush-hour traffic. N at was glad for the delay. It m eant less time for the two of them to have to m ake stilted conversation. As it turned out, she needn’t have worried. After Hutch re­ peated what had happened yet again for L eo’s benefit, Leo had opted to play the torturous waiting game out in the corridor, only returning once the doctor had arrived. Jack and Hutch had hung out with N at for a brief time, but then she sent them back to the center to keep things in check over there. “ I saw a lot o f old track s,” the young doctor continued. “ But this w as the only fresh one. Y o u ’d think she’d be experienced enough with H to know better than to do such a big hit after so much time off the stuff. It’s downright suicidal.” O ut o f the corner o f N a t’s eye, she saw L eo’s lips tighten. Did he think Suzanne w as trying to kill herself? W as he browbeating himself— feeling responsible in some way for w hat she’d done? Or, at least, tried to do? “ Can I see her?” he asked, his w ords clipped. The intern stepped aw ay from the closed door. “ She’s not feeling too great, but then, that should come as no surprise.”

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Leo headed into Suzanne’s room . N at w as right behind him. He gave her a quick glance over his shoulder and, although he didn’t say anything, his expression said quite plainly that he w asn’t pleased to have her joining him. Right now, the last thing on N a t’s mind w as worrying about pleasing Leo Coscarelli.

As soon as Suzanne saw Leo approach her bed, her eyes filled with tears. She started to speak, but her lips were trembling so badly, shevpressed them shut without saying a word. Leo took hold of her hand. “ It’s ok ay ,” he said softly. N ow N at w as feeling on the verge o f tears. “ Leo, I didn’t . . . ” she m anaged to eke out in a hoarse w his­ per. “ N o t now, Suzanne. W e’ll talk later.” She weakly turned her head from side to side. “ But, I didn’t . . . ” “ Shhh.” N at came up behind Leo. When Suzanne saw her, her tearfilled eyes widened in terror. “ N o. N o , please . . . ” she whim­ pered. “ D on ’t . . . D on ’t send me . . . b ack .” Even in her drugged state, Suzanne knew full well w hat the repercussions of her having used again meant. A one-way ticket back to G rafton. It w as pretty much a guarantee. N at felt angry at Suzanne for screwing up so royally. For putting herself at risk as well as for putting H orizon H ouse at risk. Every time a prerelease inmate flagrantly broke the rules, it invariably raised eyebrows of concern with the powers-that-be. And it w as com pounded exponentially because they were already high-profile news thanks to the attack on Lynn Ingram.

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N at looked down at Suzanne and she wanted to shake her. But Suzanne looked so frail, so lost. H ad she plunged that nee­ dleful of dope into her arm hoping to die? If so, why? Why now? W as this some kind of selfless act to keep Leo from getting mixed up with her again? D id she realize she’d never be able to stay clean permanently and that she’d end up causing not only Leo but Jakey terrible heartbreak? W as this why she told Leo she didn’t want her little boy or his grandmother to visit? A first step tow ard a permanent separation? N ow , looking at Suzanne, N at saw a suffering w om an in need of help,„ even if Suzanne hadn’t m eant to attempt suicide but simply get high. N at had long had conflicted feelings about drug addiction being treated as a criminal act instead of as an illness requiring medical and psychological treatment. But the reality w as, whether she agreed with it or not, using drugs in this coun­ try w as a felony. Punishable by incarceration. “ Someone . . . w as there,” Suzanne rasped. N at stepped closer. “ Someone w as w here?” she repeated even as she w as thinking, Sure, som eone w as there. Your dope dealer. Leo cast her an acrim onious look. Papa Bear incarnate p ro­ tecting his injured cub. N at corrected herself. H e w as Papa Bear protecting M am a Bear. “ In the . . . back. T h at’s why I . . . w e n t. . .” “ Who w as there?” N ow it w as Leo asking the questions. She shook her head more vigorously than before, flinching from the pain the movement caused. “ I didn’t see . . . A m ask. H e . . . wore a m ask. And . . . gloves. He w as . . . wearing . . . gloves. I saw . . . N o , no, I felt something . . . over my mouth . . . Awful smell . . . C ouldn’t breathe. Couldn’t . . . So dizzy . . . Oh, my head . . . ”

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She flung a hand over her eyes. “ So good to . . . j u s t . . . let go. B u t . . . But I didn’t . . . want to . . . I tried . . . to fight i t . . . I tried . . . but I . . . couldn’t .” She w as breathing hard and fast. Her body w as jerking in agitation. “ Suzanne, listen to m e,” Leo said, his voice raised. “ It’s over. It’s okay. W e’ll get it all sorted out. Ju st take it easy.” She didn’t, however, appear to hear him. She w as close to hyperventilating. A nurse w alked in. She took one glance at her patient, and now she w as looking plenty agitated herself. “ O u t,” she ordered, as if they were nothing more than disruptive children.

“ Y o u ’re sure nothing looks . . . out o f place in any w ay?” “ I already told the other officer, Detective Coscarelli, the storeroom looks the sam e w ay it always d o es.” Jo an H ayw ard w as beginning to lose her patience. It w as alm ost eight

p .m

.,

and

she w as still suffering the aftereffects o f this afternoon’s dram a. N at could well imagine the shop owner wanted nothing more than to go home, take a nice hot bath, and pour herself a good, stiff drink. Or maybe N at w as projecting onto Jo an her own desires. Leo w as once again pulling open and studying the locking mechanism on the back door that led out to an alley behind New bury Street. “ And you’re sure this door w as locked?” Jo an shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her hands folded across her chest. “ Again. Yes, Detective. If someone came in here, Suzanne let him in .” She paused, looking over at N at now. “ I can’t have her back. I hope you understand— ” “ Y ou don’t have to w orry,” N at said quietly.

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“ Pm not saying I don’t feel sorry for her. I had very high hopes for Suzanne. She had a wonderful sense of style. And she w as good with customers. Helpful without being intrusive. It’s not a skill everyone has, believe me. Suzanne w as a n atural.” H ayw ard kept referring to Suzanne H olden in the past tense. As if she’d actually died o f the overdose. M aybe, in a sense, she had.

“ By the way, did the auto club get your car started?” N at asked as Jo an w as opening the boutique’s front door, clearly eager to show them out so she could lock up and go home. She scowled. “ Yes. As a matter o f fact, all it turned out to be w as a couple o f loose spark plugs. If I’d known anything about cars, I’d have been able to take care of it in a matter of seconds. But I’m hopeless when it comes to anything m echanical.” She shrugged. “ I don’t even know how spark plugs get loose in the first place. ”

“ L ook, Leo. I know what you’re thinking. But you know, better than I do, that without any proof— ” “ Yeah, I know .” H e had pulled up at the curb in front of N a t’s apartm ent building. “ I also know Lynn’s psychiatrist w as roughed up and warned off. Y ou got that creepy drawing w arn­ ing you off. And now Suzanne— ” “ I need proof, Leo. Without it, no question she’ll be shipped back to Grafton. She broke— ” Leo cut her off. “ If Suzanne’s sent back now, it w ould destroy her.” It hit N at then. It didn’t really matter to Leo if Suzanne w as

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telling the truth. Whether she shot up of her own volition or not, he wanted to protect her. You have to care deeply for someone to feel that way. An overwhelming sense of loss w ashed over N at like a tidal wave. W ithout a w ord, she opened the car door. “ N atalie.” Her back stiffened. “ Twenty-four hours, Leo. T h at’s as long as I can keep her in the hospital. Either you produce something to back up her story by then or— ” She didn’t bother to finish the sentence. They both knew the rest of it.

,

seventeen There are probably few people as adept as transsexuals at keeping secrets. Many have lived their entire lives honing this skill. D

IT W A S A

e n n is

Portm an,

Ph.D., Lives o f Transsexuals

little past eight on Sunday morning when N at arrived at

Boston General. Over seventy-two hours since the attack. Al­ though Dr. M adison had said that Lynn w as past the m ost crit­ ical phase, she w as still a long w ay from easy sailing. All N at needed w as one look at the patient to know that. “ H ow are you feeling, Lynn?” She gave N at a blank look, her eyes still glazed over. “ M y mouth . . . is dry.” N at eyed the private nurse who w as sitting near the door. She nodded. N at reached over to the nightstand and picked up a glass of water with a straw in it. She held the straw to Lynn’s badly

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chapped lips. Lynn took a sm all sip. It seemed to take a great deal of energy just to m anage that. “ Y ou look better,” N at lied. Lynn either w asn’t able to absorb the compliment or simply didn’t care. She w as still on heavy-duty pain medication. “ H arrison Bell wanted me to be sure to send you his best.” Lynn blinked. Is this pure reflex or does it mean som ething§ A nd if it does, w hat£ “ I alm ost forgot. I w as talking with your m om yesterday about Bethany.” N at w as watching Lynn closely, knowing that the nurse sitting a few yards behind her w as on alert. N at had been cautioned not to press the patient for information. All she could do w as throw out feelers and see if any o f them produced a spark. Lynn closed her eyes. For a minute N at thought she w as drift­ ing off to a drugged sleep, but then she saw tears slip past Lynn’s closed lids and begin rolling down her bandaged face. N at laid a hand lightly on hers, her heart aching for the in­ mate. “ Is there anything I can do, Lynn?” She didn’t answer right away. And when she did, N a t’s heart nearly broke. “ I want my m om m y.”

“ R u th ?” “ Who is— ” She stopped abruptly, recognizing N a t’s voice. “ I have nothing m ore to say to you, Superintendent. And my hus­ band says if you continue to bother us, he’s going to bring you up on charges of harassm ent. ” So she’d told him about her previous phone call. And very

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likely got an earful from him in return. M aybe more than an earful. “ I’m calling about Lynn.” “ Is something wrong? H as something happened to . . . to her?” N at could hear the coldness in Ruth’s voice quickly give way to anguish. The anguish of a mother desperately worried about her child’s welfare. But N at could also hear the strain, the aw k­ w ardness, the discom fort. “ She’s asking for you, Ruth. She wants to see yo u .” „ “ I . . . can ’t .” “ O f course you can .” It w as all N at could do to keep the rage out of her voice. She w as particularly sensitive when it came to the issue of parents abandoning their children, be it a physical or an em otional abandonment. Lynn’s mother and father had m anaged both. “ I just left your daughter’s bedside, Ruth, so her w ords are very fresh in my mind. H er exact w ords were, ‘I want my m om m y.’ ” Some o f N a t’s anger w as seeping into her voice. She couldn’t help it. It w asn’t that she w as completely unsympathetic to the em otional turmoil Ruth Ingram had to have gone through in coping with— or not coping with— her child’s transsexualism . But, shame and em barrassm ent, and the w rath o f her husband, were not good-enough reasons, in N a t’s opinion, for her to have cast her daughter from her life, to stay aw ay even as her child lay in a hospital bed, fighting to stay alive, m ost likely disfigured for life. There w as silence on the other end of the line. For a few moments N at thought Ruth Ingram had stealthily hung up the phone. But then she heard muted sounds. Stifled sobs. N a t’s voice softened. “ Please come see her, Ruth. I know you

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want to. Your husband doesn’t have to know. You don’t have to tell him anything you don’t want to .” “ You . . . don’t understand,” she m anaged through her sobs. “ T h at’s not w hat matters. Y ou do understand. Y ou under­ stand completely how much your child needs her m other.” In the background, N at picked up a m an’s voice. “ W ho’s on the phone? W hat is it? W hat’s w ron g?” Ruth Ingram ’s hand m ust have clamped over the mouthpiece because her response to the man N at assum ed w as Lynn’s father, was muffled. “ N othing. N othing’s w rong.” “ Ryth, I’m here at my office. Y ou have the number. Call me back when you can talk .” There w as a distinct click. This time Ruth Ingram had indeed hung up. Leaving N at— and R uth’s daughter— hanging in more ways than one.

“ Superintendent? ” Paul LaM otte w as standing at N a t’s office door. The inmate clerk looked uneasy. “ W hat is it?” “ There’s— ” But before he could finish, her clerk w as shoved aside by an im posing, irate middle-aged man dressed in a dark gray business suit. N at w as up out of her chair, aw ash with outrage at this in­ trusion. “ Who do you think— ? ” “ Scram ,” the intruder ordered her clerk; his gaze, however, fixed solely on N at. Paul L aM otte’s eyes glinted with a fury N at had never seen

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in them before. For an instant, she worried that her clerk might act out on that wrath. Which w as something she dearly wanted to avoid happening. If LaM otte attacked someone, even in selfdefense— or in this case, her defense— his status as a trustee w ould have to be revoked and he’d end up back behind the wall. “ It’s okay, Paul. I know this man. Y ou can g o .” Fler clerk remained wary. “ Y ou sure you don’t want me to get a coupla officers in here and boot this nutcase o u t?” “ I’m sure Councilm an M ilburne will behave him self,” she said with m ore confidence than she w as actually feeling. N ot that she w as worried the politician would physically strike out at her. N o politician w as that stupid. And M ilburne might be a lot o f things, but he w as certainly not ignorant. N at w as less sure about a verbal outburst, so her comment to her clerk w as really meant as a directive to the furious councilman. LaM otte hesitated for few seconds, but then exited, deliber­ ately leaving her door open. M ilburne slam m ed it shut. N at w as still on her feet, loath to sit back dowm while M il­ burne was standing. She thought it w ould be best if they re­ m ained on equal footing. Best for her, that was. “ Y o u ’ve got one hell o f a nerve.” N at m ade no response, choosing instead to silently size up the politician. This w as the first time she’d met the man, but she’d seen him on television and in the press. Daniel M ilburne seemed not only to relish the spotlight, but to m ake concerted efforts to put himself in it. N ot that M ilburne w as particularly photogenic. The fortyseven-year-old councilman w as not a good-looking man. His com plexion w as riddled with the pockm ark scars of teenage acne. H is nose w as broad. H is hairline had receded, leaving a

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form idable w idow ’s peak. H is eyes were narrow slits, giving the impression that he w as alw ays squinting. But no question Daniel M ilburne w as imposing. Especially when he pulled him self up to his full six-foot-three-inch height and expanded his broad ex-linebacker’s chest so that you could see the strain on the buttons of his suit jacket. H e billed himself as a m an o f the people. Strong on family values. Strong on drugs. Strong on crime. And a big-time p ro­ ponent o f the death penalty. All this from a man who w as on his third m arriage. W ho— according to the tabloids— w as estranged from his son from his first m arriage, and whose daughter from his second m arriage had been in and out o f drug rehab for several years. M ilburne was also a m an who had had quite a bit o f trouble explaining aw ay a recent candid photo that appeared in the Boston papers show ­ ing him having a cozy little dinner in a sw anky South End res­ taurant with Louis Ferrara, a wealthy businessman rumored to be one of the key figures in organized crime in the Boston area. “ I don’t know what your game is, but you get one thing straight: Stay aw ay from my wife. D on ’t write her again, call her, or show up within ten miles o f her, or I sw ear,” he said, jabbing a finger in N at’s direction like it w as a gun, “ I’ll press charges against you for harassm ent and attempted blackm ail before you can say— ” “ Bethany G rah am ?” “ W hat the fuck is your problem ?” “ I don’t have a problem, D an ,” she said blithely. “ And I don’t know anything about any letters or phone calls.” “ Is that right? N ext yo u ’ll tell me it w asn’t you who ap ­ proached my wife at the charity luncheon yesterday. D on ’t waste your breath. I’ve got witnesses who IDed y o u .”

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“ I w as there,” N at admitted, seeing no reason to deny it. “ But, again, I never wrote or phoned your w ife.” “ So you explain how it is that she finds a letter in the mail last week addressed to Bethany M ilburne. M y wife goes by the name Beth, but her full name is Elizabeth, not Bethany. Every­ body knows that. Everybody but you, that is.” “ W hat did the letter say ?” M ilburne sneered. “ H um or me, D an .” He fiddled with his blue-and-red paisley tie. “ Tw o lines: ‘I know who you are. And you tell your husband, so will everyone else if he doesn’t own up.’ ” “ N o signature?” “ N o, guess you forgot to sign it. And before you bother ask ­ ing, there w as no return address. It w as on ordinary white lettersize paper. The warning and the address on the envelope were both typed on a w ord processor. She didn’t know what to make o f it.” “ D idn’t she?” M ilburne ignored her question. “ Then yesterday m orning she gets a phone call from a kid. Asking for ‘Bethany.’ When Beth started to explain that her name w as Beth, this girl says to her, ‘Y our husband is a bad m an.’ Then she hangs u p .” “ I’m not a kid, M r. M ilburne.” “ N o , but maybe you have one. O r pretended to be one. All I do know is you’re the one who showed up at that luncheon on Saturday. Calling my wife ‘Bethany.’ M aking up some cock-andbull story about her mother coming from San D iego— ” “ San Jo se ,” she quietly corrected him. M ilburne clenched his hands into meaty fists. “ I’ve had about

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as much o f this shit as Pm gonna take. So now, I ’m warning you” N at flashed on that vile drawing, wondering if this w asn’t his first warning to her. H ow far would M ilburne go to protect his career? T o protect his hide?

eighteen All the women knew I was a favorite target. Derision, revulsion, mind-games, unjust disciplinary action. I was getting it from all sides—figuratively and literally. When it comes down to it, there is no one I can risk trusting. L. I.

W HEN THE NURSE

at M ercy informed N at that Suzanne H olden had

a visitor, she immediately assum ed it must be Leo. She w as wrong. It w asn’t Leo but R oss V arda sitting in the orange plastic chair beside the inm ate’s bed. “ You look surprised,” he said. N ot that it w ould take a psychiatrist to discern that. “ Suzanne had one of the nurses call me and ask me to come in to see her,” V arda explained. “ M y prison credentials got me past the officer on duty outside.” “ I didn’t know the two of you knew each other.”

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“ Suzanne w as in one of my therapy groups at G rafton for a short tim e.” V arda got to his feet, offering her the chair. She turned down the offer which left them both standing. “ Suzanne has been telling me about her terrible ordeal. That someone jum ped her— ” “ She doesn’t believe m e,” Suzanne said plaintively. “ N o one believes m e.” “ N ow , now, Suzanne,” Dr. V arda soothed. “ N o one’s discounting your story,” N at said. “ The police are doing a very thorough investigation.” A flicker of hope briefly lit her eyes. “ Leo will prove I’m telling the truth. I know he will. H e has to .” Ju st hearing his name uttered from her lips caused N a t’s stom ­ ach to clench. “ Y ou look tired, Suzanne. Why don’t you try to sleep?” The psychiatrist glanced at N at. “ She says she hasn’t slept in the past two nights.” “ The nurse w ouldn’t even give me a dam n Tylenol says in big red letters on my chart:

no

m ed s.

p .m

.

It

Like what? I’m

gonna OD on fucking acetam inophen.” “ I’ll go have a word with her,” Dr. V arda said. H e paused for a moment at the door. “ D on ’t stay too long, Superintendent. Suzanne really does need to rest.” As soon as he left, N a t sat down in the chair he’d vacated. “ I got a visit today from Daniel M ilburne, Suzanne.” She gave N at a blank look. “ H e w as very angry. He told me a w om an has been threat­ ening him. She sent a letter to his wife a few days ago. Yesterday, she phoned her. H e thinks I’m behind the threats.”

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Suzanne shrugged. “ This w om an called his wife ‘Bethany.’ Which is interesting because she hasn’t used that name in a long tim e.” Suzanne looked away. “ In fact, hardly anyone knows she used to go by the name Bethany. But you knew, right?” Suzanne continued avoiding eye contact. “ I don’t know what you’re talking ab ou t.” “ Lynn never talked to you about Bethany?” “ N o .” Suzanne snapped out her response a little too quickly. “ Bethany G rah am ?” “ N o .” “ This is a real puzzle, Suzanne. Because very few people other than me know about Bethany G raham . And since I w asn’t the one who threatened her— ” “ It w asn’t me. Shit. First you accuse me of using again. N ow you’re trying to pin some blackm ail scheme on me— ” “ I didn’t call it blackm ail.” But, o f course N at w as thinking, drugs weren’t free. “ Whatever. It w asn’t me. T h at’s all I know .” “ Well, what worries me is that M ilburne might think you know more than that. He might think Lynn did talk to you about Bethany. And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want anyone talking about his wife. Lynn. H er folks. You. Anyone.” Suzanne wet her dry lips as she studied N at closely. “ You think he’s the one put the jump on me and shot me up? So you believe I’m telling the truth?” “ It’s not a matter o f what I believe. We need p ro o f.” “ L o o k ,” she said pleadingly, “ I didn’t see who did it. I sw ear.” “ And you have no idea who it might have been? O r why someone w ould do that to yo u ?”

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“ N o ,” she maintained stubbornly. Or, N at wondered, was it fear m ore than stubbornness? N a t’s frustration w as mounting. “ So when you learned that Lynn w as violently assaulted and nearly killed last week, Milburne’s name didn’t pop into your m ind?” “ I told you, I don’t know him ,” she snapped. “W hose name did pop into your head?” N at pounced right back. She shut her eyes. “ N o on e.” “ I don’t believe you. H is name popped into your head again just now when I asked you that question.” “ Leave me alon e.” “ You could have died, Suzanne. Hutch says you were right on the brink when he found yo u .” N at paused deliberately before adding, “ If someone did this to you, it’s very likely you were meant to die.” She clam ped her hands up to her ears. “ Stop. C an ’t you just sto p ?” “ I don’t want anything to happen to yo u .” Her eyes flew open and she fixed N at with a disquieting stare. “ D on ’t y o u ?” N at w as stunned by her w ords. “ Suzanne— ” “ If I’m out o f the picture, Leo w on’t be torn— ” N at gripped her shoulders hard enough that she winced. But she didn’t let go. She w as too angry. “ Listen to me, Suzanne. If you love someone, the last thing in the w orld you want to do is cause them grief and suffering. If L eo’s torn” — and N at did be­ lieve he w as feeling pulled between them— “ then he’s got to sort it out for himself. If w hat he and I share isn’t strong enough to hold him, then . . . that’s how it is. It has nothing— do you hear m e?— nothing to do with you. It’s between me and L eo .”

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“ Fine.” “ So let’s leave Leo out o f this, ok ay ?” “ O kay, okay. Pm sorry.” N at dropped her hands to her sides. “ You know there’ll have to be a disciplinary hearing when you’re out o f the hospital.” “ Y ou can’t send me back to Grafton. You can’t. I’ve been clean for so long. Fd never do something so stupid. Especially not now. N o t now when everything’s starting to come together for m e.” Everything. Did that include Leo? So much for N at wanting to leave him out of this. “ Please, you can’t send me back,” she pleaded. “ I’ll die if I go back.” “ Y ou have a greater risk o f dying if you don’t help us nail the b astard .” “ I can’t. I can’t. D on ’t you understand? I can’t.” “ Yes you can. Tell her, Suzanne. Y ou m ust.” The voice coming from the doorw ay startled both women. R oss V arda strode purposefully across the hospital room and over to the bed. “ It’s for your own safety, Suzanne.” N at wondered how long he’d been standing there, listening. Dr. V arda m aintained his focus on his patient. And her eyes were glued to his. “ I . . . can’t ,” she said hoarsely. “ Yes you can, Suzanne.” H er hands were trembling as she touched them to her face. “ Back when you and Lynn were at G rafton, something hap­ pened, isn’t that so, Suzanne?” he coaxed. Suzanne nodded. “ W hat happened?” “ Lynn was . . . raped .” “ Yes, go on ,” he said.

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“ Lynn w as scared.” Suzanne swallowed hard. “ She told me she w as scared.” N at moved in a little closer to Suzanne. “ Who w as she scared of, Suzanne? Who raped her?” She com pressed her lips. “ D id he rape you, to o ?” N at asked gently. “ N o , no, it w asn’t . . . like that. He didn’t . . . want me. N ot . . . sexually.” She shot V arda a look. As if wanting confirmation. “ Suzanne,” he said softly, “ you will never fully recover if you keep this all inside. W e’ve chatted about that, haven’t w e?” She' bit down so hard on her badly chapped bottom lip, it started to bleed. “ H e’s not a bad man. H e looked out for me. It would have been so much worse without him .” A cold chill seeped into N at’s bones. This w ouldn’t be the first time an inmate, especially a female inmate, had been brain­ w ashed into thinking her abuser w as really a good guy. There w as even a name for it: Stockholm syndrome, coined from a hostage situation in the 1970s at a Stockholm bank where em­ ployees, held hostage for days, developed an intense attachment to their captors. “ You m ay not think he hurt you, but he did. And tw o days ago, he nearly killed yo u ,” N at said. “ It w as the same man, w asn’t it, Suzanne?” Suzanne turned her head aw ay. “ Sto p.” “ And what about Lynn?” N at persisted. “ He certainly hurt Lynn. She told you she w as scared o f him. She had good reason to be scared, Suzanne. It w ould break your heart to see Lynn now. Her face all cut up, her breasts, her— ” “ S to p !” she screamed. But N at kept hammering home the reality: “ When the bastard

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w as finished m utilating her, he threw her ravaged body into a Dum pster and left her for d ead .” Suzanne looked pleadingly at Dr. V arda. “ M ake her sto p .” “ Please, Superintendent. Y ou can see that Suzanne is over­ wrought. And very frightened. With good reason .” “ T h at’s precisely why she’s got to tell me who this bastard is.” V arda took hold o f Suzanne’s hand. “ Tell M s. Price the m an’s name, Suzanne. It’s okay. Once she knows, you’ll be safe. I prom ­ ise yo u .” When she finally uttered his name, she said it in such a low whisper, N at could barely m ake it out. “Jo e ? ” N at repeated. Suzanne hesitated, then nodded. “Jo e who? W hat’s his last n am e?” Suzanne squeezed her eyes shut. “ Please, Suzanne. Y ou have to tell me. Jo e w h o?” The inmate mumbled a name but N at didn’t catch ir. “ Parker.” It w as R oss V arda who repeated the name. N at gave the psychiatrist a studied look, then turned back to Suzanne, who w as still crying softly. “ Y ou ’ve done the right thing.” A nd the psychologically healthy thing, N at thought. It w as a first step in breaking the syndrome. “ I’m not saying he did it. Cut Lynn up and . . . jum ped m e,” Suzanne said anxiously. “ M aybe it w asn’t him. M aybe, like you said before, it w as that guy M ilburne. I mean, shit, I w asn ’t there when Lynn w as attacked. And I never saw who came at me. You don’t know it w asn’t M ilburne, right? It could have been him. Ju st like you said. He had plenty of reason .” V arda gave N at a puzzled look. She w as sure he w as won-

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dering who M ilburne w as and how he fit into the investigation. N at w as beginning to wonder now if he did. “ But you are sure this Jo e Parker raped Lynn when she was in Grafton? She told you it w as Parker.” N at wanted confirma­ tion from Suzanne. Tears began falling down her cheeks. “ N o. She didn’t tell m e.” “ H e told you? Parker told you he’d done it?” Suzanne put both hands over her eyes. V arda looked wearily at N at. “ He didn’t have to tell her.” It took her a few m oments to take in the full measure of the psychiatrist’s w ords: Suzanne saw them. Suzanne H olden wit­ nessed Jo e Parker rape Lynn Ingram. “ H e’s not a bad m an ,” Suzanne rasped. “ He . . . couldn’t help himself. He w as . . . sorry afterward. He really w as . . . sorry.”

N a t’s cell phone rang as she w as heading out of M ercy M edical Center. It w as Leo. “ Y ou still with Suzanne?” “ H ow did you know . . . ?” But then N a t remembered the cop posted at Suzanne’s door. Leo must be having him report in on visitors. “We got something. I’m at the Precinct H ouse. Can you come over?” “ I’ll head there n ow .” N at alm ost added that she had som e­ thing, too. But her shocking news w as not something to share on the phone. N at w as m ore than a little worried about how Leo w ould feel— and react— when he found out about Suzanne and Jo e Parker. There w as little question in N a t’s mind that Parker’d served as Suzanne’s “ d ad dy” when she w as in Grafton. H e may

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have protected her, but N at w as sure Suzanne had paid a hefty price for that protection. Did she really think what he’d done to her w asn’t rape? This ugly business w as getting more personal by the minute. N at punched in Ja ck Dwyer’s direct number at Horizon H ouse. “Jo e Parker,” she said abruptly. “ Y ou know him ?” “ W ho?” “Jo e Parker. H e’s a C O at G rafton .” Only now did N at realize she hadn’t actually confirmed with Suzanne that Parker was a corrections officer. He could be one of the vocational education or shop teachers, a mental health person . . . “ Why are you ask in g?” “ Suzanne broke down and named him— with a little coaxing from R o ss V arda. Suzanne saw this Jo e Parker rape Lynn when they were at Grafton. She said Lynn was scared to death o f him .” “Jo e Parker?” Jack repeated slowly. There w as no missing the note of disbelief in his voice. “ T h at’s right,” she said impatiently. “Jo e Parker.” “ Y ou got the wrong guy.” Ja c k ’s statement w as adam ant. “ Believe me, N a t— ” “ Obviously you do know him. Is he an officer?” Jack didn’t answer right away. “ N at, Jo e Parker is a good buddy o f H utch’s. They go back a long w ay.” “ T hat m akes it aw kw ard, but it doesn’t change the fact.” “ H e’s a priest, N a t.” H er mouth fell open. “ W hat?” “ H e’s a Catholic priest. He and Hutch grew up together in Dorchester. Hutch and his family have been members of his church for years. Kerry, his oldest daughter, w as married by F a­ ther Joe. I w as at the wedding. Like I said, N at, you got it wrong. ”

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“ A priest. Oh, C hrist,” N at muttered, wanting to kick herself. Father Joe. The priest Carrie Li told her had called to check on Lynn’s condition. Very likely the same priest Leo had spoken to on the phone. And N at w as willing to bet the bank it was also the Father Jo e Parker w ho’d showed up at the hospital on some trumped-up excuse about visiting one o f his parishioners so he could find out firsthand from the surgeon about Lynn’s condi­ tion. “ N at? Y ou still there.” “ Y eah.” “ Y ou gotta be wrong about this,” Ja c k said.

Leo’s greeting w as perfunctory. A man with a lot on his mind. Well, N at w as a w om an with plenty on her mind, too. Before she could start to unload some o f it, Leo jumped right in, setting a plastic evidence bag on his desk. “W hat is it?” she asked. “ A scrap o f cloth.” “ I can see that.” “ A scrap of cloth containing still-detectable remnants of ether, according to our lab b oy s.” N at immediately remembered Suzanne’s words. “I felt som e­ thing . . . over my mouth . . . Awful sm e ll. . . C ouldn’t breathe. Couldn’t . . . So dizzy . . . ” “ Where did you find it?” “ One o f my boys plucked it out of a trash can .” H e paused. “The trash can w as in the alley behind the boutique.” N a t picked up a faint note o f triumph in his voice. She’d wanted proof; here w as proof. “ I’ve also doubled the watch outside Suzanne’s hospital

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roo m ,” he said brusquely. N at now remembered seeing a second officer com ing down the hospital corridor when she’d left her a short time ago. “ Suzanne’s being released tom orrow m orning,” he continued. “ I want her put in protective custody. At H orizon H ou se.” N at nodded slowly. Even though they both knew this evidence w asn’t enough to unconditionally prove Suzanne’s story, it w as more than enough for N at to put the inm ate’s disciplinary hear­ ing on hold. N at w as also in complete agreement with Leo that Suzanne should remain at H orizon H ouse. N o w ay, knowing what she knew now, w as she sending Suzanne back to Grafton. N at w as about to tell Leo about Father Jo e when she was distracted by the gruesome draw ing Leo placed on the desk. Her warning note. “ This is a ph otocopy,” Leo said. “ You can pass it on to V arda. Tell him I’d like his analysis. I’m curious to see if he com es up with the sam e conclusions our man Carl M iller made. You want to read his report?” “ I’ll take a copy home with me. Give me the highlights.” Leo placed a copy o f the report beside the drawing, but he didn’t have to refer to it. “ Interestingly, M iller, like you, observed that there w as a childish quality to the drawing. He even went so far as to theorize that a child might well have done the sketch.” N at gave Leo an incredulous look. “ For all the gory details, Miller says that the w ay the lines are done and the way it’s been colored in are typical of a child’s style. A lso, what M iller views as key is that he sees no signs of rage or panic in the way it’s drawn. He goes into a detailed explanation about how and why he reaches these conclusions.”

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“ This doesn’t m ake any sense, Leo. Lynn w asn’t attacked by a child.” “ Let’s say this w as done by a child.” Leo tapped the ph oto­ copy. “ There’s nothing to say this creep w e’re after did the draw ­ ing him self.” “ He asked a child to do the draw ing?” H er tone w as openly dubious. “ It’s not so far-fetched. H e knows w e’re gonna analyze the shit out of this drawing, and he wants to send us off on a wildgoose chase.” There was a pause before Leo went on. “ Also, Miller pointed out that the suspect m ay feel a need to bring som e­ one else into his scheme. A co-conspirator.” “ A child?” “ The bastard describes to the kid what he wants drawn, gives the kid a few pointers along the w ay— ” “ Y ou w ouldn’t ask just any kid. D oes M iller think our guy’s a pedophile?” N a t’s stom ach clenched. The news w as full of cases being brought against Catholic priests on charges of pe­ dophilia. As if things weren’t bad enough, w as it possible Father Jo e ’s crimes were not only against female inmates but children as well? “ Same question I asked M iller,” Leo said somberly. This was not only a cop speaking, but the father of a little boy. “ A n d ?” “ M iller said not necessarily. And he m ade another interesting observation. The way the face is drawn leads him to think it’s more likely a little girl than a little boy who did it. A kid as young as five.” He paused. W aiting for N a t to draw the sam e conclusion he had drawn. But N a t’s mind w as still on Father Joe. “ H arrison Bell has a little girl. Daphne. Four years old. Turns

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five in N ovem ber.” Clearly, he’d been studying his notes on Bell. “ And I’ve checked into whether M ilburne or Rodney Bartlett have any young children. M ilburne’s youngest is nineteen. He and Beth have no children. Bartlett is discreet about it, but he’s gay. N o current lover, no kids. Jennifer and M atthew Slater were also childless. And, by the way, no luck confirming Bartlett’s absence at the funeral. The witness we were pretty sure o f is now saying it w asn’t Bartlett who left; it w as another guy closer to the aisle.” “ A friend o f Bartlett’s ? ” N at asked. “ N ope. A doc who got paged by his nurse and hightailed it to the hospital.” “ Bartlett could have paid off the w itness.” “ It’s possible.” Leo didn’t sound very enthusiastic about this possibility. “ Given w hat w e’ve got at this point, w e’re definitely moving Bell to the top o f our list.” “ I don’t know, L e o .” Granted, Bell had been one o f her prime picks as well— until that m orning’s meeting with Suzanne. N ow , like Daniel M ilburne and Rodney Bartlett, he w as quickly fading into the w oodw ork. N at w as thinking about Father Jo e Parker. True, the priest w ouldn’t have children of his own— unless he had an illegitimate child that he’d secretly fathered— but he cer­ tainly w ould have ample contacts with plenty of youngsters via the church. Youngsters who w ould look up to their priest. Who might do whatever Father asked o f them . . . “ According to Bell’s clerk,” Leo went on, “ Bell left the clinic at four o ’clock on Saturday. M ore than enough time for him to have zipped over to the boutique on New bury Street. N o t to mention how easy it would have been for him to get his hands on a hypodermic needle and drugs.”

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“ Easy enough for anyone to get their hands on dope and w orks,” she muttered. “ I saved the best for last. I want you to listen to som ething.” H e opened the top desk drawer and pulled out a small cassette player and a second evidence bag— this one containing a cassette. “ I got this in the m ail this morning. I want to play it for yo u .” He removed a pair o f rubber gloves from his jacket pocket and slipped them on before removing the cassette and placing it in the player. H e hit

pla y

.

A w om an’s voice came on, husky-sounding, like

she had a terrible cold— I am a patient o f D r. H arrison Bell’s. That is . . . I w as his patient. I ivon’t give my name because I do not want to become involved in this sordid business. But I feel it’s my duty as a citizen to come forw ard. On w hat ended up being my final visit to D r. B e ll. . . this w as a couple o f weeks ago . . . 7 w as waiting in his exam ining room when I heard an argum ent going on next door. That w ould be Dr. Bell’s consulting room. I recognized his voice immediately. It took a bit longer to recognize the . . . w om an’s voice. It was Dr. Ingram. I had seen . . . her a few times fo r pain m anage­ ment. I have . . . well, that’s neither here nor there. The ar­ gum ent they were having was . . . personal. I distinctly heard D r. Bell yelling at Dr. Ingram. He w as shouting— “ You can ’t ju st end it. You can’t ju st dism iss everything w e’ve had, everything w e’ve been to each other.” Dr. In­ gram . . . she w asn’t really scream ing so much as . . . well, I guess she w as really pleading with him— first to keep his voice down, but then when he kept shouting, I heard her say, “ You leave me no choice. We can’t go on this way. ”

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A nd then she said— now it sounded like she was crying— “It isn’t that I don ’t love you. I will never stop loving you. ” But D r. Bell, he only g o t angrier. Shouting even louder— “I w on’t let you go. N o t now. N o t ever.” And then Dr. Ingram w as definitely crying. I thought she w as ju st so up­ set, but then I heard her say— “Stop, you’re hurting me, H arrison. ” I guess he did stop, because seconds later I heard the door to his office slam shut an d next thing you know he breezed right into the examining room as i f . . . as if nothing had happened. H e greeted me with a warm smile and b e looked . . . cool as a cucumber. Leo hit the

o ff

button. “ True, this w ouldn’t be adm issible in

court— ” “A n d ,” N at pointed out, “ it could be a fak e.” “ W e’re gonna lean on Bell. See if we can’t get him to come clean. And there’s always the possibility, if the tape is legit, that Lynn Ingram will remember some of th is.” He waited for a re­ sponse from N at. When he didn’t get one, he looked at her more closely. “ Som ething’s up. W hat is it?” he asked cautiously. “ I have a new suspect for you, Leo. I’m pretty sure this one will drop Bell down a notch on your suspect list.”

Leo got up from the desk and started to pace. N ot a hell o f a lot of space for it in his small office. He m anaged maybe ten steps to the wall, then crossed back ten steps. H is expression w as grim. Frown lines cut across his brow. H is eyes were cast to the floor as though he w as searching for something he’d dropped. The tension in the office w as palpable. Leo paused for a m oment, shooting N at a look. He opened

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his mouth to say something, but then shut it again without ut­ tering a word, “ I know it’s hard to believe,” she said softly. N o matter what one’s denomination, it was difficult to imagine, much less accept, that a priest, a man of G od, would be capable o f such heinous crimes. N at w as sure it w as especially hard for Leo, who was Catholic. While he w asn’t a regular churchgoer, she knew from Jak ey ’s grandm other that Jakey had been baptized and that she took the little boy to church once or twice a month. N at had been invited along with them one time, even though she w asn’t Catholic. §he hadn’t really been raised with any religion. Her mother believed only in her delusions. Her father put all his faith in the bottle. Their gods failed them utterly. And what did she believe in? It was a question she’d pondered a good deal over the years. There’d been times she’d thought she knew, only to be proven wrong. She’d yet to come up with a lasting answer. Leo stopped pacing, dropped back into his chair. Still not a word. W as he thinking about what the priest did to Lynn? Or trying to sort out exactly w hat Suzanne’s relationship w as to Father Joe? N ot that it was hard for him to figure out. “ I’m sorry, L eo ,” N at said finally, his continued silence wear­ ing on her heart. He mimed an indifferent shrug— she didn’t believe for an in­ stant that w as the w ay he w as feeling— then pulled open the top drawer of his desk and took out an opened pack of Lucky Strikes. He tapped a cigarette out, jabbed the unfiltered tip between his lips, rumm aged in the drawer until he unearthed a book of matches, and lit up. Right behind him on the wall was posted the ubiquitous s m o k in g

sign.

no

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It was no big surprise to N at that Leo w asn ’t swayed by that stricture. W hat surprised her w as the sm oking itself. L eo’d quit smoking before she knew him— he told her once that he’d stopped right after Jakey was born— fiercely determined not to endanger his child with secondhand smoke. It would take a lot for Leo to light up again. N at w as sm art enough not to comment on it. She w as sm art enough to keep her mouth shut altogether.

nineteen Lynn sought religious counsel prior to making her de­ cision to go ahead with the sexual-reassignment surgery and was told by the pastor that it was a sin against God. D

r

. R

o ss

(t h e r a p y

NAT WAS MORE

Va r d a no te)

than a bit surprised when M elissa Raym ond intro­

duced herself at the front door of the rectory. She looked nothing like N a t’s stereotype of a priest’s housekeeper. She’d envisioned a late-middle-aged, plain-looking, broad-faced woman with steelgray hair, wearing a m atronly black dress, a large silver or gold cross prominently hanging from a chain around her neck. M elissa R aym ond’s cross— if, indeed, she w as wearing one— was nowhere in sight. She w as a willowy w om an who looked to be in her mid-thirties. She w as smartly dressed in a pair o f finely tailored charcoal-gray slacks and an emerald-green sweater that highlighted her green eyes— not to mention clinging to her

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shapely bosom . H er chestnut hair hung sleekly down around her shoulders. N at wondered facetiously how well she cleaned house. “ Father Jo e is w orking on next Sunday’s sermon and he hates to be interrupted,” M elissa said in a crisp, proprietary tone. Leo whipped out his badge. M elissa’s eyes widened slightly, but otherwise her features registered no alarm. “ Is this about Tom m y M atth ew s?” she asked, lowering her voice a notch. “ Father Jo e ’s been saying for weeks that one of these days that boy is going to— ” “ It’s not about Tom m y M atthew s,” Leo cut her off brusquely. This elicited a slight flush on M elissa’s fair and flawless skin. “ O h ,” she muttered. “ Well, I suppose I . . . could interrupt F a­ ther.” “ D o th at,” Leo said. M elissa’s flush deepened. Leo and N a t eyed each other as M elissa hurried off, leaving them standing in the gloom y and airless foyer o f the large, latenineteenth-century stone-and-brick rectory beside St. Bartholo­ mew’s Church. It couldn’t have been any more than thirty seconds before Father Jo e himself w as bustling down the hall from his office tow ard them. If N at had been surprised by the housekeeper’s appearance, she w as doubly surprised by Father Jo e ’s. N ot that she’d for­ m ulated a vivid image o f what a priest/sexual abuser/psychopath w ould look like, but it certainly w ouldn’t have been this small, pudgy, fifty-something-year-old m an with graying hair and a be­ nign dem eanor, dressed in baggy khaki slacks and a navy-blue T-shirt. It w as hard to imagine he’d be big enough or strong enough

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to attack the nearly six-foot-tall Lynn Ingram, much less be ca­ pable of lifting her limp body and tossing it into a Dumpster. But then N at had encountered numerous men— and women— in prison whose size and apparent lack o f strength had proved no deterrent to their com m ission of heinous crimes against seem­ ingly bigger and stronger victims. In the heat of rage or passion or both, with the adrenaline flowing, it w as am azing how strong a person could become. As Father Jo e approached them, he w as smiling beneficently, but N at detected a shadow o f worry on his face. “ Please,” he said, sounding a bit out o f breath, “ forgive my appearance. I w asn’t expecting— ” He stopped. “ Well, o f course I w asn’t expecting you.” He extended a hand in N a t’s direction. She gave the priest’s hand a perfunctory shake. When Father Joe extended his hand to Leo, Leo stuck his hands in his jacket pocket. “ Please, come into the parlo r.” Father Jo e Parker w as already heading over to the closed heavy m ahogany pocket doors to their right. As he slid them open, he glanced back at them. “ I’ve asked M elissa to bring us all some tea. I hope you like tea. O f course, if you prefer coffee— ” “ N othing for m e.” Leo gestured to the priest to step into the parlor. They followed him inside. Leo slid the doors shut. The dark-w ood-paneled room that Father Jo e referred to as the parlor more resembled a library. Bookcases lined tw o walls from floor to ceiling. H eavy dark-umber drapery covered much o f the triple-bay window that faced the street. N arrow openings in the curtains allowed only thin shafts of light to filter into the space. The floor w as covered with a muted Persian rug. The fur­ nishings looked to be authentic Victorian antiques— deep-blue velvet sofas, a pair of ornate brocade arm chairs, a large, intri­

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cately carved m ahogany desk. Father Jo e approached the desk and turned on a desk lamp. Then, after a pause— possibly reflect­ ing that this am ount of lighting did not exactly flood the room with brightness— he moved to a standing lamp by the sofa and turned that on as well. The lighting, while now adequate for their purposes, didn’t expel the essential gloom iness of the parlor. The room w as meticulously tidy and there w as a lingering hint o f fine-furniture polish. M elissa might not have looked like a housekeeper, but then, looks, as N at knew so well, could be de­ ceiving. She had to remember to keep that in mind in connection with the unassum ing priest. Father Jo e ushered them to the two respective arm chairs, se­ lecting the couch for himself. He settled himself before he spoke. “ N ow , please, tell me how I can help y o u .” “ Let’s start with Suzanne H olden,” Leo said gruffly. N o t even a hint of alarm or wariness in the priest’s demeanor in response to this question. “ Suzanne H olden ?” “ An inmate at G rafton .” “ Let me think. I’ve been volunteering there for a number of years. So many women . . . ” “ She has very clear recollections of yo u .” “ Is that right?” H e spoke with a tone that indicated nothing more than curiosity, then pondered the name aloud again. A few seconds later, he snapped his fingers. “ O f course. Suzanne. Yes. Yes, yes. I’m sorry. I should especially remember Suzanne.” N a t’s stom ach clenched. Yeah, I bet you should. “ Very troubled. She has a little boy, you see. It’s all coming back to me. W asn’t she released a few months ago? N o , wait, she w as transferred. Yes, I remember now. She went to a prere­ lease center. Something hasn’t happened, I hope. She is all right, isn’t sh e?”

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Leo ignored the question. “ W hat’s ‘all coming back’ to y o u ?” Father Jo e scowled in thought. “ All the times she spoke about her son. W hat a sweet and clever little boy he w as. Suzanne w as always bringing me in photos of the child. Oh, yes, and little draw ings he m ade for her when he came to visit.” N at glanced surreptitiously over at Leo to check out his re­ action. H is poker face w as in place, but she suspected it w as taking a concerted effort. D id he know how much Jakey meant to Suzanne? H ow much pride she took in her child? H er child. N at felt an ache in her chest. And she w as sure her own attem pt to maintain a neutral look w as not nearly so suc­ cessful as L eo’s. “ Y ou said she w as very troubled,” Leo said. “ M ay I ask w hat this is about? I know Suzanne had a drug problem. I hope she hasn’t . . . slipped. One o f the things, in fact, that concerned her deeply w as that she had passed the illness on to her little boy and that he’d grow up to be a drug addict. Is she all right?” “ N o ,” Leo said succinctly. The priest looked genuinely alarm ed. “ Is she back on dru gs?” N at grit her teeth. It wTas all she could do not to leap up from her chair and slam her fist into Father Jo e ’s face. But Leo continued to appear cool and collected. “ Let’s move on to Lynn Ingram .” Father Jo e nodded, resting his small hands over the paunch of his belly. N at found herself studying those hands with their short, pudgy fingers— a plain band of gold on the m arriage finger of the left hand. Father Jo e w as married to the church. W as it really possible that these were the hands of a slasher? W as this m an of G od capable of wielding a knife and viciously, brutally, cutting up a wom an? Leaving her for dead? Were these

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the hands of a man who would plunge a hypodermic needle full of heroin into the vein o f a recovering drug addict? “ I have been praying for Lynn daily.” He pressed his palm s together as if to dem onstrate the gesture o f prayer. Or w as he saying a silent prayer at that very moment? Praying for another go at her? Another go at Suzanne? Praying that his crimes would go undetected? Father Jo e dropped his hands over his belly again. “ I keep listening to the news, reading the daily paper, hoping to get word on her condition, but there’s been absolutely nothing— ” “ Y o u ’ve done more than follow the new s,” N at challenged. Father Jo e gave her a blank look. “ I don’t— ” H is expression quickly changed. “ Oh, yes, that’s true. I did have a brief w ord with a doctor over at the hospital. I w as paying a call on one of my parishioners and— ” “ The nam e?” Leo interrupted. “ Excuse m e?” “ The name of the parishioner you were visiting.” Leo had his notebook out and w as withdrawing a pen from his pocket. “ I can’t remember offhand. It w as actually the mother o f a parishioner. Visiting from out of town— ” “ The parishioner’s name, then,” Leo pressed. “ Alice,” the priest said after a short pause. “ Alice M orrisey.” “ H ow w ould you describe your relationships with Suzanne Holden and Lynn Ingram ?” Leo asked, deliberately throwing the priest a curve ball. Father Jo e merely gave Leo a puzzled look. But before he could respond— probably only to question the question— there w as a firm knock on the door. “ Yes, come in, M elissa,” Father Jo e said in the direction o f the closed doors. The doors slid open. M elissa’s eyes darted immediately over

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.to the priest. He smiled pleasantly. “ Y ou m ay bring in the tea, my dear.” She disappeared for a moment and reappeared with a silver tea set sitting on a silver tray that she must have put down on a nearby table. N at spotted the housekeeper catch the priest’s eye again as she set the tray down on a coffee table in front o f the sofa. “ Is there anything else?” she asked. “ N o , M elissa.” He checked his watch. “ It’s nearly noon. You better hurry off and meet the school b u s.” N ow it w as Leo and N at who exchanged glances. “ You have a child?” N at asked M elissa as she w as starting tow ard the doorway. Her back stiffened as she glanced back at me. “ Yes. A little girl.” There w as a hint o f defensiveness in her tone. N a t’s gaze instinctively fell to her left hand. N o wedding band. But it w asn’t M elissa Raym ond’s m arital status that w as on N a t’s mind. It w as the fact that she had a child. A daughter. A daughter who w as likely very close to Father Joe. If he’d asked her to draw a picture for him . . . “ M elissa and Emily live here at the rectory,” the priest w as saying. “ Emily’s a delightful little girl. Bright, pretty, and very well behaved.” Yeah, I bet she’s well behaved, N at thought. M elissa m ade a speedy exit while Father Jo e w as talking, and firmly shut the doors behind her. “ H ow long have they lived here with you ?” N at asked the priest. Father Jo e paused to mull this over. “ Let me see. It m ust be close to nine years now. Yes, M elissa just turned thirty-three. She

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came here when she w as twenty-four. Yes, so that w ould be nine years.” N a t’s mind w as racing. N ine years. And Emily is in kinder­ garten. So M elissa go t pregnant while she w as living a t the rec­ tory. D id she get pregnant at the rectoryf Was I on the right track when I considered the possibility that the priest had fa ­ thered an illegitimate child? Is Emily his? “ W ho’s the father?” N at asked bluntly. “ Excuse m e?” Father Jo e said, visibly taken aback for the first time. “ She'asked you who Em ily’s father is,” Leo repeated. “ Well, I can’t really . . . T h at’s not a question I feel 1 . . . I have the right to answ er.” Finally, a crack in the veneer. “ I suppose we can wait until your housekeeper gets back and ask her,” Leo said offhandedly. “ Let’s get back to my earlier question.” “ W hat w as th at?” Father Jo e looked plenty flustered now. M aybe they were actually getting somewhere. “ H ow w ould you describe your relationships with Suzanne H olden and Lynn Ingram ?” There w as nothing offhanded in L eo’s voice now. “ I’m a spiritual counselor, Detective. I am spiritual counselor to many inmates, Suzanne and Lynn am ong m any.” He shifted uneasily on the sofa. “ Is that right?” Leo said, eyeballing Father Joe. The priest looked away, letting his gaze rest on the tea service. He didn’t, however, m ake any move to pour the tea. Although, N at bet he could use a drink right about now, probably som e­ thing stronger than tea, though. There w as a prolonged silence.

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Leo broke it big-time. “ Suzanne H olden witnessed you raping Lynn Ingram at G rafton .” The priest stared at Leo, looking dazed. “ W hat?” Leo glared at him. “ M y bet is you raped Suzanne as well. M aybe you didn’t call it rape. Probably not. You probably told yourself— and her— every time you fucked her that you were just tending to her physical as well as spiritual needs.” The priest didn’t look half as shaken by these reprehensible charges as Leo looked dishing them out. All signs of being cool and collected had vanished. N at w as starting to worry that Leo might decjde to tend to some of his own physical needs any m o­ ment now. There w as no doubt in her mind: Leo would have liked to punch the living daylights out o f Father Joe. Father Jo e rose slowly. It seemed to require some serious ef­ fort, as if he’d aged twenty years in the last few minutes. “ I am deeply saddened by the poor girl’s utterly unfounded charges, Detective. W hat grieves me m ost is that I am certain these lies are causing her to suffer deeply. And Suzanne’s already suffered so much. M ay G od forgive her.” H e paused for a few moments. “ Please tell her, next time you see her, that I under­ stand. And that I forgive her.” W ithout another w ord, Father Jo e crossed the room , shoul­ ders drooping, his step no longer spry. “ Where were you Saturday afternoon at four forty-five?” Leo said sharply, just as Father Jo e w as about to slide open the doors. The priest didn’t turn around. “ I w as here at the rectory.” “ Can anybody back up your story?” The priest turned slowly to face Leo. “ M y ‘story’ ?” He nod­ ded sadly. “ I w as putting the final touches on my sermon. I be­ lieve M elissa w as here— N o , wait, I’m sorry. All this . . . I’m a b i t . . . flustered.”

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He looked more than flustered to N at. He looked close to panic. “ Saturday is M elissa’s day off. She took Emily to the zoo. Emily w as so excited when they got home. She started darting around the room imitating a monkey— ” “ W hat time did they get hom e?” Leo’s voice w as as hardedged as his expression. Father Jo e sighed. “ I believe it w as sometime after six. As a special treat, M elissa took Emily to M cD on ald’s for supper. Em ­ ily adores the H appy M eals, but it’s really for the little toy they put inside. And the fries. I think she likes the fries— ” “ And last Thursday between the hours of eleven p . m .? ”

a .m .

and one

Leo continued in the same iron-fisted tone.

Father Jo e fixed a weary gaze on Leo. “ An alibi for the time Lynn w as attacked?” Leo said nothing. “ I don’t remember exactly— ” Leo folded his arm s across his chest. “ Think about it. Fve got plenty of tim e.” The priest cast N at a quick glance. She remained silent and grim. “ I believe I w as again here at the rectory during that stretch of tim e.” He nodded slowly. “ Yes, I w as here until shortly before three o ’clock.” An anguished look shadow ed his face. “ I did not harm either of those women, Detective. N o t while they were in Grafton. N o t since they left the prison. I sw ear— ” “ T o G o d ?” Leo finished bitingly.

twenty The goal is to break you. They thought I ’d break easily. I thought I could prove them wrong. I couldn’t. L. I.

A T THE E N D

of the day, N at w as back in the ICU at Boston General.

She felt worn out, and while Father Jo e was now a prominent name on the suspect list, Leo had been firm in reminding her that there w as still no hard-core evidence tying the priest, H arrison Bell, or anyone else for that matter, to the recent attacks on either Lynn or Suzanne. As N at approached Lynn’s bed, she noticed the inmate’s eyes dart anxiously past her— as if she w as checking to see if N at w as alone or not. When she saw there w as no one else present, she seemed to relax a bit, leaving N at to wonder who it w as she didn’t want to see.

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“ G ood news. The doctor says she might move me out o f ICU by the end of the w eek,” Lynn said, clearly pleased by this p o s­ sibility. N at w as less pleased. It w as easier to protect the inmate in the ICU, where the comings and goings of outsiders— and insiders— were rigidly controlled. If she w as moved, N at w as sure Leo would increase the number o f cops on watch. “ I look pretty bad, huh ?” she said softly. The truth? Lynn looked awful. W hat little o f her face w asn’t bandaged w as blotchy and discolored. H er hair w as matted. Her eyes were so bloodshot, N at still couldn’t see the whites. H er lips were horribly chapped. H ad Lynn seen herself in a mirror yet? N at knew that the doctor had been gently feeding her patient more details about her condition— but had it all really sunk in yet? W hat state would she be in when it did? “ Y ou look a lot better than you did last T hursday,” N at said. But then, it w as hard to imagine she could look worse than she had that day and still be alive. “ Yes, I guess that’s true.” She tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “ Oh, and my mother called this morning after you left. I was . . . so surprised.” N at w as relieved that Ruth Ingram at least had called her daughter. N at w as sure Ruth had phoned while her husband was at work. “ Your mother w as here the day you were brought in.” N at hoped that would give Lynn some measure of com fort. “ Yes, Dr. V arda told me. I couldn’t believe it. We haven’t exactly been, well, close these past few years.” The pained look in her eyes spoke volumes. “ She’s going to try to come in to see me again. I told her it w asn ’t necessary. M y dad— ” She let the rest o f the sentence fall away.

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“ Yes, I know .” Lynn nodded, blinking back tears. “ H arrison called, too. But it seems they weren’t authorized to put the call through.” There was no missing the note of disap­ pointment in Lynn’s voice. Surely, if H arrison Bell had been her assailant, it w as hard to imagine Lynn would speak his name now with that unm istakable hint o f longing. But then N at w as reminded that Lynn’s memory o f the attack remained deeply bur­ ied. M aybe she didn’t even remember the argument in which she’d called off their affair— or w hat N at w as assum ing w as an actual affair, if that tape w as to be believed. The wom an on the tape gave no indication of when that argument had taken place. W as it shortly before the attack? W eeks before? N or w as there any way to know why Lynn called it off. W as it the old, familiar story o f a young wom an falling in love with a m arried m an— a married man who fills her with prom ises that he’s going to di­ vorce his wife and marry her? W as Lynn’s relationship with H ar­ rison Bell a replay of her relationship with M atthew Slater? Did she finally come to her senses, realize that Bell, like Slater, w asn’t about to leave his wife? M ore significantly, that he w as not about to m ake his relationship with her public. It w as one thing to have a secret affair with a transsexual, quite another to announce it to the world. And when Lynn did finally break it off, had Bell been un­ willing to let her go? Did he— ? N at abruptly stopped her ru­ minations, realizing that on some level she preferred thinking that Bell, rather than a priest, w as behind the attacks. But even if Father Jo e w asn ’t responsible for the assaults, there w as no dis­ missing Suzanne’s confession. She’d seen Father Jo e rape Lynn at Grafton. The priest had committed a crime, even if it w asn’t the crime currently under investigation.

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Unless Suzanne had been wrong. Unless she’d been mistaken. W as it possible? N at focused back in on Lynn, who also seemed lost in her own ruminations. “ I visited Father Jo e to d ay ,” N at said quietly, her gaze fixed on the patient. “ W ho?” “ Father Jo e Parker,” N at repeated, watching Lynn intently for any signs o f . . . o f what? N at w asn’t sure what she w as antici­ pating Lynn’s reaction would be, but it certainly w asn ’t this blank look. H ow far back in time did her memory lapse extend? “ D on ’t you remember Father Joe? From C C I G rafton ?” A worried expression replaced the blankness. “ Oh, yes. Yes, I . . . think so. I’m still a little . . . foggy a b o u t . . . everything.” Foggy, or afraid? N at pulled up a chair close to the bed. “ W hat do you remem­ ber about Father Jo e ? ” Lynn didn’t respond right away. H er eyes darted around the room again. She definitely seemed to be growing agitated. N at experienced a wave o f guilt. W as Lynn ready for this? W as N at pushing too hard too soon? But time w as weighing heavily on her. On all of them. A lot o f people were in m ortal danger here: Lynn, Suzanne, R oss V arda, N at herself. The longer it took to nail the bastard, the greater the risk to all o f them. “ Lynn,” N at said softly, “ Suzanne H olden has already talked to me about Father Jo e .” “ Suzanne?” “ Som ething’s happened, Lynn.” “ T o Suzanne? Is she all right?” Lynn’s agitation w as palpable. Well, at least she remembered her room m ate.

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“ She’s fine,” N at quickly assured her. “ But she nearly ODed the other day .” Lynn looked incredulous, then horrified. “ N o. N o , that’s not possible. N o t Suzanne. She w ouldn’t go back . . .” “ She says she didn’t. She says she w as knocked out by an unknown assailant who then pum ped her up with enough heroin to kill her.” A sm all, strangled cry escaped from Lynn’s throat. “ N o , no, no . . “ She told me about Father Joe. D o you understand w hat I’m saying, Lynn? She told me w hat he did. T o you. I went to see him. I know this is hard, Lynn, but please, please try to remem­ ber.” “ N o , no . . .” “ W hat’s going on here?” C arol Jacobson , the head ICU nurse, came storm ing into the room , fuming. “ Whatever it is, it stops now. O ut.” She pointed a finger at N at as if it w as a weapon. Like, if N at didn’t leave instantly, she’d gun her down. N at got to her feet, but she paused long enough to murmur an apology to Lynn, adding, “ It’ll be okay. D on ’t w orry.” Her w ords sounded hollow to her own ears. N at could feel the head nurse glaring into her back as she made her exit. R oss V arda w as coming through the ICU doors as N at stepped into the corridor. Ju st the man she wanted to see. “ I need to talk to yo u ,” she said. “ C an ’t it wait until after— ” “ N o .”

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“ I hope you realize you m ay have caused irreparable dam age,” V arda said sternly. “ I went through all your notes on your therapy sessions with Lynn. There’s no mention o f Father Joe. O f any priest. She must have talked about him. A traum a like that— ” “ Are you listening to me, Superintendent?” “ N othing Fve done com pares to what might happen to Lynn if we don’t catch this b astard.” He sighed heavily. “ Yes. O f course that’s true.” “ We got nothing out of the priest.” “ N o ,” V arda said. “ I don’t expect you w ould have.” She pulled out a copy o f the gruesome draw ing of the woman. “ D o you think a child might have drawn this?” The psychiatrist w as taken aback. N at w asn’t sure if it was her question or the drawing. He took hold o f the photocopy. “ Is this— ?” “ Yes. Pretty awful, isn’t it?” He studied it more closely. “ W hat m akes you ask me if I think this is a child’s w o rk ?” “ It’s one professional’s opinion. W hat’s you rs?” “ I’m not a child psychiatrist, but I did some testing with chil­ dren years back. During my training. Using their draw ings as a way o f getting at their underlying feelings. The drawings are of­ ten crude, sometimes shockingly graphic.” “ Like this on e?” He nodded. “ Yes. It could have been drawn by a child. But— ” “ Father Jo e ’s housekeeper has a five-year-old daughter. M other and child live at the rectory.” R oss V arda continued staring at the drawing.

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“ Father Jo e ’s not handing us a confession on a silver platter, R o ss.” “ I really don’t know w hat to tell y o u .” “ You believe the priest w as Lynn’s assailant, don’t y o u ?” Fie gave her a helpless shrug. “ I don’t know .” “ But you believe Suzanne w as telling the truth about having witnessed him rape Lynn at G rafton .” “ I see no reason why she would lie about such a thing.” “ M aybe it w asn’t a lie. M aybe she m istook someone else for him. Another priest. Or someone dressed like a priest. Someone w ho— ” _ “ D o you really think that’s likely?” V ard a’s tone suggested the psychiatrist w as questioning a not-too-lucid patient. “ O bviously you don’t ,” N at said, som ewhat defensively. And then it came to her why V arda w asn’t giving any credence to her theory: “ She told you as well, didn’t she? Lynn told yo u .” H e deliberately averted his gaze. “ There w as nothing in your therapy n otes,” N at persisted. “ But maybe you didn’t write everything dow n.” V arda continued to m ake no response, which only added to N a t’s mounting frustration and anger. “ Why didn’t you do som e­ thing? Why didn’t you report him? See to it that, if nothing else, he w asn’t allowed back in the prison? At least that w ould have kept him aw ay from the women. Prevented him from continu­ ing— M y god, he probably had access to Lynn even when she w as in segregation. And you did nothing. N o ^ m g .” V arda held up a hand against the onslaught o f her words. “ I know, I know ,” she said angrily. “ Y ou were bound by confidentiality. But you could have talked to the priest. N o t men­ tioned names. You might have gotten him to come clean and then you could have— ”

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“ I did speak to him ,” V arda said wearily. “ Ironically, he sought me o u t.” “ Sought you out? W hy?” V arda looked her square in the eye. “ For help. He w as my patient. ” She stared at him, dum bfounded— a feeling she’d been having far too frequently these days.

N at spotted her as she w as crossing the hospital lobby. Beth M il­ burne w as standing near the exit. N at fully expected the coun­ cilm an’s wife to bolt as she started tow ard her. But she didn’t. “ C ould we . . . ta lk ?” Beth asked when N at approached her. N at nodded, observing that the w om an seemed anxious and looked drawn. “ The cafeteria?” N at suggested. Beth shook her head, looking furtively around the lobby. “ I have my car. Ju st outside.” N at hesitated. Surely it would be a lot wiser— not to mention safer— to have their little chat in a public setting. But Beth w as already out the door, heading to her car, a shiny silver M ercedes sports coupe. N at slid into the passenger seat and Beth drove off quickly down M assachusetts Avenue. “ W ell?” N at asked. “ H ow is . . . sh e?” “ Y ou mean your e x ?” Beth’s jaw tightened, “ Y our present husband paid me a visit— ” Beth prom ptly cut her off. “ H e doesn’t know. A bout my . . . p a st.”

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They came to a red light and she screeched to a stop. N a t’s hands instinctively shot out against the dash to keep her body from propelling forw ard. In her anxiety, she’d forgotten to put on her seat belt, as had Beth. N at put hers on now. N at saw that the w om an’s hands were trembling as she lifted them off the wheel and tucked her blonde hair behind her ears. “ There’s a cafe on the other side of the street,” N at said. “ Let’s get a drink.” The light turned green. The car behind them honked before Beth jerked forw ard. She maneuvered the M ercedes across the thoroughfare and m anaged to pull into a spot with a wide berth. As soon as they were parked, Beth began to cry softly. N at reached across and killed the engine. Then she rumm aged in her bag and extracted a tissue for the distraught wom an. Beth dabbed at her eyes. “ D an doesn’t know. N o one knows about my first m arriage.” “ T h at’s not true, Beth. W hat about the letter you received addressed to ‘Bethany’ ? And the phone call?” Beth crushed the tissue in her hands. “ I have no idea w ho’s behind it. D an thinks it’s a scam. I swear, he doesn’t believe for an instant there’s any truth to the story. H e’s just furious because he believes we’re being set up. Something like this, if it hit the papers, even if there’s no truth to it, w ould m ean political ruin for him .” “ But there is truth to it,” N at reminded her. “ N o t as far as D an believes, I prom ise y o u ,” Beth insisted. “ He seemed awfully agitated when he barged into my office.” To put it mildly. “ H e w as just trying to protect m e,” she muttered. “ Protect you from w h at?” “ H e thinks one o f his political opponents is behind this— ”

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“ So, it isn’t really you he’s protecting; it’s him self.” Beth flinched. “ H is career would be destroyed— ” “ So you said. And my guess is,” N at added, “ so would your m arriage.” Beth shut her eyes. “ Yes, I suppose it would. Which is why you m ust believe that I w ould never tell him— ” “ There are other ways he could have found o u t,” N at said. Beth looked square into N a t’s eyes. “ If he had, believe me I w ould know .” N at nodded slowly, holding Beth’s gaze. “ So, maybe the real question here is, how far w ould you go to keep him from finding o u t?” Beth blanched but didn’t look away. “ When . . . When Daniel asked me to m arry him, I went to see Larry . . . I mean . . . Lynn. H e . . . She . . . It w as before . . . ” The councilm an’s wife was having trouble getting the w ords out. N at helped her. “ Before the Slater trial?” Beth nodded. “ I went to see . . . Lynn . . . at the pain clinic. We had a long talk. A . . . A good talk. H e . . . She prom ised me she’d never . . . let the truth be known. I really never thought she w ould, but I had to be sure.” “ W hat about Lynn’s parents? H ow did you keep them quiet?” Beth bit down on her lower lip. “ I paid off L arry’s d ad .” “ W here’d you get the m oney?” N at doubted Beth had very deep pockets o f her own. On the other hand, her fiance— “ Larry. Lynn.” “ I don’t understand,” N at said. “ It w as his money. H er money. Savings. It w asn’t my idea. Larry saw it as a w ay to give something back to his folks for . . . m aking their lives so m iserable. A w ay to m ake it up to them. O f course, I had to prom ise they w ould never find out the truth.

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Larry w as sure his father w ould throw the money back in his face. I’m sure M r. Ingram believes the money came from Daniel. Which w as just as well. Until . . . n ow .” Beth nervously looked at her watch. “ I’ve got to go. D an is expecting me. W e’re having a dinner party.” She looked over at N at. “ I kept my prom ise to Larry. And I know he kept his prom ise to me. And always will. It’s probably hard for you to understand, M s. Price, but we did love each other. And in our own w ays, we probably always w ill.”

N at could hear her labored breath, smell a m ix o f stale air and gasoline. She felt the darkness closing in on her. She tried to break free, but something w as holding her back. H olding her down. N o, not something. Someone. Icy fingers dug into her flesh. Her skin prickled with revulsion. A cold object w as pressed to her lips. A cross. Pray fo r salvation, N atalie. She tried to cry out, but no sound emerged. And then, with abject horror, she realized why. H er tongue w as gone. It had been severed. She could taste blood. It w as slowly filling her mouth. M aking her gag. And the darkness . . . It w asn’t that she w as locked inside the trunk o f a car as she’d first thought. As she once had been. The smell w as not gasoline after all. It w as ether— And the darkness w as not outside. It did not surround her. It was within her. It w as dark because she couldn’t see. She was blind. H er eyes— oh, G od, her eyes had been gouged out. She w as crying bloody tears.

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“ You sound out of breath.” N at squinted at her bedside clock. It w as a few minutes before seven

a .m

.,

at which time her alarm clock w as due to go off.

“Ju st a bad dream ,” she muttered, glad for the call from Leo. Grateful to be yanked free of the nightmare. “ Y eah ,” he said soberly. “ There’s a lot of that going around these day s.” “ W hat’s u p ?” Leo w ouldn’t call her at this hour without a good reason. There w as a brief pause. “ I’m over at the rectory.” An im age of that cold metal cross flashed in N a t’s mind. “ Are you arresting Father Jo e ? ” “ N o. That w on’t be necessary.” Because she w as still groggy and hadn’t entirely put her night­ mare to rest, it took her a few seconds to get the full meaning of L eo’s remark. “ H e’s d ead ?” “ The housekeeper’s little girl found him ,” Leo said grimly. “ Oh, n o .” She w as now fully awake. “ Seems the m om let Emily, as a special privilege, bring the priest his tea each morning. Apparently, he w as an early riser— up at the crack o f dawn and usually down at his office in the rectory by six

a .m

.”

N at picked up the pressurized tone in L eo’s voice. She w as sure he w as as disturbed as she w as that the little girl had been the one to find the dead priest. Surely it would be an image that would haunt her for the rest o f her life. “ H ow did he die?” she asked, afraid to hear the answer. H ow gruesom e w as it? “ He w as hanging from the chandelier. The drapery cord from the curtain in the room w as used as a noose. Rigor w as setting

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in by the time we got here. H e’d been hanging for several hours, anyw ay.” “ Did he leave a n ote?” “ Yeah, there w as a note,” Leo said. “ W hat did it say ?” “ ‘M ay G od have mercy on our so u ls.’ ”

twenty-one Recent research studies indicate dissociation can pro­ long PTSD. Many therapists now encourage patients to recall the trauma and relive it over and over in a con­ trolled setting so that they can work through it. D r. H a r v e y Y o u n g ,

N AT'S OFFICE D O O R

traum a expert

slam m ed shut with such force, it literally worked

one o f the pins loose from its hinge. H er breath caught in her throat, her alarm instinctual at such a sound in a place like this. She released the breath as she saw that it w as Hutch, and not an inmate gone berserk, storm ing into the room . N o t that her anx­ iety abated by any m eans. H er head CO had a serious temper that he usually m anaged to keep in check. It took a lot to tip him over the edge. At the moment, he looked as far over the edge as she’d ever seen him. “ Are you out of your mind? Do you have any fucking idea w hat you’ve done? You drove a man to suicide. N o t just any

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man. One o f the finest, m ost decent, kindhearted men I’ve ever had the blessed fortune to know. A priest, N at. A priest.” He slam m ed a fist on her desk. N at was sure he’d have preferred it make contact with her jaw instead of w ood. But he was not that far over the edge. N ot yet, anyway. “ Hutch, listen to me— ” “ N o , dam n it. Y ou listen to me. Father Jo e told me the whole, story and it’s bullshit. The father w ouldn’t hurt a fly. So I don’t care what the fuck you think you know. Y o u ’re w rong.” Tears, o f rage and anguish spiked his eyes. H is tone w as only slightly less explosive. “ If I’m wrong, Hutch, why did he kill him self?” He stared at her as if she w as severely mentally challenged. “ D o you believe in G od, N a t? ” “ Isn’t it a sin for a priest to take his own life?” “ I doubt he w as in his right mind when he did it— when you drove him to it,” Hutch added accusingly. “ H is death is on your conscience now, N at. It’s gonna be there for all time. I pity yo u .” But there w as not even a hint o f pity in his voice. “ People aren’t always w hat they seem, Hutch. N o t even priests.” “ N o t even prison superintendents,” he snapped before he turned his back on her and walked out, leaving N at with the bruising sting of his final words.

N at wanted to believe it w as over. But of course it w asn’t. There w as still no convincing evidence that Father Jo e had attacked Lynn Ingram in that alleyway and viciously cut her up. O r that he’d shot Suzanne up with a near-lethal dose of heroin. While the priest w as still alive, N at could at least hold out hope that

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he w ould confess to those assaults. But he hadn’t. N or had his suicide note provided them with anything concrete. Even Suzanne H olden’s adm ission of having seen Father Jo e rape Lynn in prison didn’t prove he w as the one w ho’d mutilated and tried to kill Lynn last Thursday. The priest w as dead, but the case re­ mained open. W ould it ever be put to rest? N ow their only hope lay with Lynn. If only her memory would return— N at w as barely pulling herself together from her stressful encounter with Hutch when Leo arrived at the center with Suz­ anne in tow. H e had personally escorted her from the hospital, along with a uniformed officer who would be stationed outside her room . Leo w asn’t taking any chances regarding Suzanne’s safety— a pointed-enough reminder that the case w asn’t closed. Suzanne looked pale and shaky. Given what she’d been through, it w as no surprise. But w hat did surprise N at w as the way she stiffened when Leo placed his hand lightly on her back as he guided her tow ard the stairs. N at imagined that Suzanne’s response surprised Leo as well, and troubled him. N early a half hour passed before Leo appeared at N a t’s office door. What had he been doing upstairs with Suzanne all this time? “ D oes she know about Father Jo e ’s suicide?” N at asked. Leo nodded. “ I thought it might ease her mind a little. I mean, to know he’s no longer a threat.” “ It didn’t ? ” “ N o .” N at w asn’t surprised. It fit with her belief that Suzanne was suffering from Stockholm syndrome and therefore felt guilty for turning in a man she viewed as her protector— and, m ost likely, her lover. Leo had no doubt drawn the sam e conclusion.

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“ M aybe I should give Dr. V arda a call. H ave him come in and talk to her,” N at suggested. “ She says she doesn’t want to talk to anyone.” “ She’s been through a lot, L eo .” “ Y eah.” He dropped into a chair across from her desk. “ W e’ve all been through a lo t,” she added pointedly. He looked at her but didn’t respond. N at suffered his silence until it got oppressive. “ W hat about the little girl? Em ily?” “ H er mother took her to stay with a friend. I need to show the kid that drawing, but it can wait. She’s in no condition to be answering questions.” “ And M elissa Raym ond? H ave you questioned her?” “ I questioned her, but I didn’t get any answers. She’s not ex­ actly in a cooperative m ood.” N at told Leo about H utch’s m ood. “ N obody wants to see their priest as a rap ist,” Leo said bleakly. “ W hat happens n ext?” “ I’m going to attend the autopsy this morning, and sometime this afternoon I’ ll head out to G rafton to talk with some o f the staff and female inmates. This kind of thing doesn’t happen in a vacuum. If Father Jo e raped Lynn Ingram, then odds are there’ve been others.” She noticed he omitted Suzanne’s name. “ It still w on’t confirm that he assaulted either Lynn or Suzanne outside of the prison,” she said. “ N o , we’re still beating the air on that one. But one step at a tim e.” And then N at remembered something. “ Leo, we definitely need to get ahold of R oss V ard a.”

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H e rolled his eyes. “ I told you, Suzanne doesn’t— ” “ N o t for Suzanne. Father Jo e saw him .” Leo leaned forw ard in his chair. “ W hat do you m ean?” N at hit her intercom. “ Paul, track down R oss V arda. Get him on the phone for me. It’s urgent.” Leo w as putting it together. “ Y o u ’re telling me the priest w as a patient o f V ard a’s ? ” “ And there’s no confidentiality stricture now. It doesn’t carry past the grave.”

R oss V arda apologized when he finally arrived at N a t’s office in midafternoon. “ M y sister took ill and I had to take her to the doctor.” “ I hope she’s going to be all right,” N a t said. He smiled, but she detected a shadow of worry on his face. N at wondered how sick V ard a’s sister w as, but she sensed from the psychiatrist’s lack of response that he didn’t want to discuss it. “ I presume you asked me here to meet with Suzanne. I got w ord from the hospital that she w as released this m orning,” he said. “ I presume she knows about the priest’s suicide. It’s been on the news all day, although there’s been no information as to why— ” “ The police are trying to keep things quiet until they gather more facts.” She gestured to a chair. He sat down, but grudg­ ingly. “ I’d really like to see Suzanne as soon as possible.” “ She doesn’t want to see anyone right n ow .” “ Then why am I here?” There w as a little edge to his voice. Without responding directly, she pressed her intercom button and asked her clerk to get in touch with Leo and let him know

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R oss V arda w as here. “ Y ou can probably reach him out at CCI G rafton ,” she added. She knew she should w ait for Leo to get back to her office before questioning V arda, but she had no idea how long it would be until he showed up. She figured she could always fill him in. Besides, Leo and the psychiatrist hadn’t exactly hit it off up to now. She might get more out of V arda talking alone to him. “ I presume this is about Father Jo e Parker.” “ You told me that he w as a patient of yours.” V arda lifted one eyebrow but m ade no response. What psy­ chiatrist ever offered anything without a bit of coaxing, if then? “ D id he confess to raping Lynn in priso n ?” N at decided a straightforw ard question w as her best offense. “ N o t in so many w ords,” V arda said after a lengthy delay. “ He w as aware that Suzanne saw them— ” V arda looked suddenly weary. “ He never felt he had anything to fear from Suzanne,” “ Because she w as afraid of him? Or because she thought she w as in love with him ?” “ Sometimes the line can blur between fear and love,” “ D o you think that line is still blurred? After all, Suzanne did finally adm it at least some of w hat happened.” In saying this, N at w as reminded that Suzanne never had actually spelled out what her own relationship had been to the priest. “ I w on’t really know the answer to that question until I can talk with Suzanne,” V arda said. “ I must tell you I’m concerned about her mental state. She has to be experiencing a vortex of conflicting feelings now that the priest has committed suicide. I’m sure a part of her is blam ing herself for having betrayed him. And then there’s the sense of loss, abandonm ent— ” “ Surely another part o f her has to feel some relief,” N at in­

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terrupted, not certain whether she w as angry at Suzanne or V arda at the moment. Probably both: Suzanne for no doubt having these feelings, and V arda for being so dam n calm and accepting about it. “ I’m confident that relief will come in time, but first she is going to need to process these other emotions. I hope you’ll do everything in your power to encourage Suzanne to let me see her as soon as possible.” “ I’ll do w hat I can, but it’s got to be her decision,” she re­ peated. V arda nodded. “ You treat other inmates over at Grafton. H ave any o f them been raped by Father Jo e ? ” Although Leo was probably out at G rafton that very minute trying to find out the answer to that question himself, N at figured she had nothing to lose by asking V arda directly. “ Y ou know I can’t— ” “ Y ou don’t have to name nam es,” she said impatiently. “ Did Father Jo e tell you about any other women— ” “ I think you have the wrong impression of the priest, Super­ intendent. It w asn’t that Father Jo e w as your typical sexual pred­ ator and used his position within the prison to have sexual relations with every attractive female inmate with whom he had contact.” “ ‘Sexual relations’ ? Y ou mean rape.” V ard a’s eyes dropped aw ay, troubled. “ We all have a dark side, Superintendent. Even priests.” “ M aybe, but m ost o f us m anage to keep that ‘dark side’ in check. Especially priests.” “ H e w as a sick man. I thought I could help him. 1 failed.”

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“ You not only failed. You sat back and did nothing while he raped two o f your patients.” He appeared m omentarily puzzled, but then he nodded. “ You mean Suzanne.” “ Am I w rong?” He hesitated. “ I don’t think Suzanne w ould call it rape. She never felt that he forced her to have sex .” N at gave a harsh laugh. “ Yes, I know ,” he said somberly. “ It’s always rape in that kind of situation. But all I can tell you is that Suzanne did feel he cared for her. And I think she w as right.” “ Is that what Father Jo e told you? T hat he ‘cared for’ Suz­ anne?” “ Y es.” N a t’s stom ach w as churning with anger and disgust. “ And what about Lynn? D id he ‘care for’ her, to o ?” V arda sighed. “ The priest’s feelings about Lynn were com pli­ cated, at best. Father Jo e only met with me for a few sessions. Far too brief for us to even make a dent in unraveling all his feelings.” “ Did he confide in you about having brutally stabbed Lynn? Did he tell you w hy?” “ Father Jo e terminated therapy with me months ago. I’ve had no contact with him since.” “ Did you m ake any effort to see Father Jo e after Lynn’s at­ tack ?” Varda shook his head. “ But you did think it could have been him ,” she pressed. “ I hoped he would get in touch with me, but he didn’t.” “ You hoped Father Jo e would confess to having tried to kill Lynn?”

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“ If he had, all I could have done w as endeavor to convince him to turn him self in. ” “ D o you think you could have convinced him ?” “ N o .” H is expression w as forlorn. “ I wish I could have done more. People frequently say doctors think of themselves as God. Believe me, I have never felt that way. Being a psychiatrist is, at the least, a humbling experience. At times, it can fill me with utter despair and a terrible sense of failure. Sometimes I wonder why 1 go on trying.” V arda glanced at his watch. “ Fm due at my sister’s for an early dinner. Fm afraid there’s nothing more I can tell you, Su­ perintendent.” H e sm oothed down his gray sports jacket, adjusted his paisley tie. “ W ould you at least let Suzanne know I asked after her? And that I’m here for her whenever she feels ready to see m e?” “ O f course.” Her phone rang. “Ju st a sec, Ross. M aybe that’s Detective Coscarelli. H e may have some other questions— ” she said as she picked up. “ Superintendent Price?” It w as a w om an’s voice. Vaguely fa­ miliar. “ Y es?” “ It’s Claire Fisher. Dr. Bell’s nurse.” There w as a note of ur­ gency in her voice. “ Yes, o f course. Is something wrong, C laire?” “ Yes, well . . . I don’t know. I found . . . something tucked be­ hind one o f Lynn’s old files. Y ou see, I w as cleaning out— ” “W hat did you find, C laire?” “ A loose-leaf binder with a thick sheaf o f handwritten pages inside.” “ Lynn’s handw riting?” “ Yes, I believe so .”

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“ D oes anyone else know you’ve found it?” She hesitated. “ I . . . I’m not sure.” She sounded clearly an x­ ious now. “ W hat do you m ean?” “ Well . . . Dr. Bell was in the file room with me when . . . I don’t know if he saw it.” “ You didn’t show it to him .” Again, she hesitated. “ N o. N o . . . I . . . There are some things I haven’t told you . . . ” Yes, N at w as thinking, she w as sure there were. Like the fact that Lynn and H arrison Bell had been having an affair. It sud­ denly struck N at that the voice on that tape Leo had played for her at the precinct house might not have been an ex-patient of Bell’s at all. It could have been Claire Fisher. “ Look, I don’t feel com fortable talking here,” Claire said in a lowered voice. “ C ould you possibly come over to my apartm ent this evening? I’ll bring . . . i t . . . home and give it to you there.” “ Sure. W hat time— ?” “ I need to run some errands when I leave here. W ould seven be ok ay ?” “ Seven is fine. Ju st give me your address.” N at scribbled it down as she said it, then she heard a male voice in the background— H arrison Bell’s?— and Claire abruptly clicked off. V arda w as watching N at closely. “ Lynn’s jou rn al?” he asked. “ Possibly.” “ G ood. T h at’s good it turned u p.” “ Yes. It might help. But, obviously, there w on’t be anything in it since the attack. Even if she wrote about Father Jo e and

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what he did to her in prison, it w on’t prove he w as the one who tried to kill her. O r Suzanne.” “ N o ,” V arda said. “ T h at’s true enough.” “ Still, she m ight have written something about the priest con­ tacting her, even confronting her since she’s been in prerelease— possibly threatening her not to reveal w hat took place between them .” “ It’s possible,” V arda said. “ Then again ,” N at said thoughtfully, “ Lynn might have writ­ ten about som eone else she feared. This is far from an open-andshut case.”

twenty-two Sometimes I wonder— would it have been easier if I wasn’t able to pass? Would I have posed less o f a threat? L. I.

" A COMPLETE WASTE

p .m .

of tim e,” Leo said glumly. It was nearly six

and he’d just come back from C C I G rafton, having spent

m ost of the afternoon there. “ If the priest w as messing with any other inmates, they’re not talking. As for the staff, they all seem genuinely shocked by the suicide. And they had nothing but good things to say about Father Jo e ,” Leo said sourly. He started for the door. “ Leo— ” “ Later. I need to talk to Suzanne again ,” he said tightly. N at went after him, grabbing his jacket sleeve. “ N o t a good

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idea, Leo. N o t the way you’re feeling right now. Besides, I have something im portant— ” “ D on ’t tell me how to do my job, N atalie.” “ This isn’t about your job. It’s personal.” “ Well, then, don’t mess with my personal life, either,” he snapped. H is w ords were like a cold slap in N a t’s face. She let go of his sleeve and stepped back. Leo winced. “ I’m sorry, N atalie. T hat didn’t come o u t . . . T h at’s not w hat— Shit.” A sharp rap on her door startled them both. It w as Jack . He stepped into her office, looked from her to Leo then back to her again. “ Y ou o k ay ?” So much for her ability to cam ouflage her feelings. “ W hat is it, Ja c k ? ” Jack slowly shifted his gaze over to Leo again. “ Y our partner’s here. H e’s looking for yo u .” M itchell O ates, who w as standing in the anteroom , started for her office as soon as he caught sight of Leo. “ W hat’s u p ?” Leo w as all business now as he zeroed in on his partner. “ We gotta g o ,” O ates said crisply. “ N ow . We got a call from a doc over at Claire Fisher’s apartm ent— ” N a t’s mouth went dry. “ Claire Fisher? W hat happened?”

Claire Fisher’s one-bedroom apartm ent w as on the fourth floor of a brick-and-stone Edw ardian m ansion in South Boston that had been converted into condominium apartm ents a dozen years ago. It w as small but bright thanks to large windows, high ceil­ ings, and linen-white walls. The decor w as simple but tasteful.

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A taupe-colored cotton couch and lounge chair, a Berber rug on the pale w ood floors, an antique trunk serving as a coffee table on top o f which w as an oversized book of Impressionist paintings and a blown-glass vase filled with a m ix of yellow roses and white daisies that appeared to be only a day or two old. Dr. Julie M organstein, the wom an w ho’d discovered Claire’s body, w as the owner o f the condo. Claire Fisher had not only been her tenant, but a friend. They’d met while Julie w as an intern at the Boston H arbor Community Pain Clinic. “We weren’t all that close,” the doctor w as saying, her voice a little shaky, her fair com plexion ashen. She w as a petite woman with straight brown hair pulled back from her face with simple silver barrettes. She w as wearing a black light w ool pantsuit. Her jacket w as open, and N at noticed several red smudges on her white silk overblouse. Blood. N at also noticed the doctor’s slightly rounded belly. Given her otherwise slender-to-alm ostwaiflike figure, N at deduced that the wom an must be pregnant. Probably in her fourth or fifth month. N at w as instantly con­ cerned that the traum a the doc had just been through might have some detrimental effect on the pregnancy. “ Let me m ake you a cup o f tea,” N at offered, thinking that what the poor w om an really needed w as a shot o f whiskey. But not for a pregnant wom an. Tea w ould have to suffice. But Julie shook her head. “ I’m fine.” She smiled wanly. “Well, no, not fine at all, but . . . really, I couldn’t drink anything.” H er eyes strayed tow ard the closed bedroom door. On the other side of that door, Claire Fisher’s body lay in a sm all puddle of blood on her beige carpet, two bullet w ounds in her chest, at least one of which had proved fatal. “ I came over to bring . . . ” The doctor’s eyes shifted to a large

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cardboard box sitting near the front door. “ It’s a new lighting fixture for the dining roo m .” H er lips quivered. “ The old one had a short. It could have been fixed b u t . . . but Claire w as . . . nervous.” The doctor squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then pulled herself together. “ I picked it up at the lighting shop and I phoned Claire to tell her I w as bringing it over. She w asn’t . . . She didn’t . . . ” Julie bit down so hard on her lower lip the skin broke and a bit of blood seeped out. She w as oblivious and hurried on in a rush. “ I left a m essage on her answering machine saying I’d be by with the fixture. I have a key, but of course I knocked first. When Claire didn’t answer, I . . . I assum ed she w asn’t— ” Again Julie squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds, but this time she lost her battle to hold back her tears. They began to run down her face. She forced herself to continue, ignoring them. “ I went to let m yself in, but the door w asn’t locked. And the door to the bedroom w as . . . ajar. I presumed Claire w as in the show er.” Her nose w as running and she began to sniff as she rumm aged in her leather purse for a tissue. Mitchell O ates, who had been sitting in the living room with the two women m ost o f this time, plucked a crisply laundered white linen handkerchief from his breast pocket and handed it to her. Julie took it gratefully, dabbed hopelessly at her face and blew her nose. W ithout thinking, she went to hand it back to the detective, then flushed. “ I’l l . . . launder it for you.” He smiled gently, an expression N at had never personally wit­ nessed before on the handsome but usually grim detective’s face. “ Keep it,” he told Julie warmly. “ I’ve got a whole drawer full.” She m anaged to return a sm all smile of gratitude. “ Thank yo u .”

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O ates rose and went back to the bedroom to join his partner. H e closed the door behind him. “ It m ust have been some dope addict,” Julie said, crumpling then sm oothing out, then again crumpling the hanky. “ Someone who knew Claire w as a nurse. W hat’s this about a journal that the other detective w as asking me ab o u t?” N at didn’t respond. “ I mean, it m ust have been a stranger, right? I can’t imagine Claire having any enem ies.” “ There appears to be no sign of forced entry,” N at repeated, an observation she’d heard O ates make earlier. Julie’s hand went up to her mouth. “ Oh, God. You think Claire let the killer in? T h a t . . . That she knew him? B u t . . . w h o?” One name sprang immediately to N a t’s mind: Dr. H arrison Bell. Bell knew Claire had found Lynn’s journal. N at had told Leo about Fisher’s call on the drive over there. Bell’s name im­ mediately popped into L eo’s mind as well. Neither o f them said anything about the possibility— probability?— that they’d been w rong about Father Jo e, but it hung in the air between them. Leo had immediately radioed in for two uniforms to head to the pain clinic and another two were directed to the doctor’s house. H arrison Bell w as now wanted for questioning regarding the murder of his nurse, Claire Fisher. And now there would also be more questions regarding the attack on Lynn Ingram. The problem w as, as of yet, Bell hadn’t been found. H e’d left the clinic early but, according to Carol Bell, he hadn’t come home. She claimed she had no idea where he was. Asked if she w as concerned, she’d said he occasionally came home late be­ cause o f meetings or symposiums. Sometimes he’d forget to tell her beforehand.

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The journal hadn’t been found in the apartment. It seemed likely Claire Fisher’s killer had taken it. And equally likely that the nurse had been murdered because she’d had the terrible m is­ fortune to have unearthed the journal. Flad Bell panicked that Lynn had written about their affair? A bout breaking it off? H ad Lynn written that he’d threatened her— that she w as afraid of him— afraid for her life? W as Bell afraid that if the police got their hands on that jou r­ nal, they’d consider him their prime suspect in Lynn’s assault— whether or not he w as responsible? That he’d be arrested? tried? convicted? W hat if H arrison Bell w as guilty? But then, where did Father Jo e Parker fit in? G od— what if the priest didn’t fit in? N at staved off her in­ cipient guilt about having borne some responsibility for driving Father Jo e to suicide by quickly reminding herself that the priest had been far from innocent. Whatever else he m ay or m ay not have done, he had, after all, raped Lynn Ingram when she w as in prison. H e also had adeptly and assiduously m anaged to brain­ w ash Suzanne H olden into protecting him the whole time she w as at Grafton. And if R oss V arda hadn’t been able to break through her defenses, they might never have known the truth about the priest. Still, it did leave N at feeling exceedingly unsettled. She looked over at the distraught physician. “ Y ou mentioned you did some w ork at the pain clinic.” Julie nodded. “ T hat w as alm ost five years a g o .” “ Y ou worked with Dr. H arrison Bell.” “ Y es,” Julie said cautiously. “ And w asn’t Dr. Lynn Ingram working there at that time as w ell?”

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“ Y es.” She began refolding the linen hanky. “ Y ou know Lynn Ingram ’s in the ICU at Boston G eneral” — Boston General being the hospital where Julie M organstein worked. “ Y es.” She hesitated. “ Is there . . . some connection? Between w hat happened to Lynn Ingram and w h a t . . . w hat happened . . . to C laire?” “ W hat do you think?” “ I didn’t really know Lynn. I worked with her at the clinic for three months and we had a few patients in com m on, but we never socialized. N o t that I had anything against her. She seemed perfectly competent. It’s just that she stayed pretty much to her­ self.” “ Did you know at the time she w as a transsexu al?” “ N o. I didn’t know until her trial.” “ Did you think there w as something rom antic between Lynn and Dr. Bell?” M organstein seemed surprised by the question. “ Is that a n o ?” “ I don’t feel right saying this. But I suppose— ” She paused, glanced quickly at the closed door to Claire Fisher’s bedroom , then just as quickly looked away. “ You see, Claire w as the one who w as involved with Dr. Bell.” N ow N at w as surprised. She’d sensed that Claire w as carrying a torch for her boss, but she hadn’t considered that he’d recip­ rocated the feelings. “ H ow do you k now ?” “ She told m e.” “W hen?” “ When did she tell me, or when were they having an affair?” “ Both.”

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“ She told me about it when I w as working at the clinic. That w as several years ago. But I know that until about a month or two ago, it w as still going o n .” H ad it ended when Lynn Ingram returned to the clinic? H ad Claire ended it? O r had Bell? “ She told you it w as over?” N at pressed. “ Well, she didn’t really volunteer the inform ation. But I stopped by, one evening a few weeks ago— we were planning to have some repairs done on the apartm ent and I wanted to go over the work with Claire— and she seemed kind of dow n .” “ Y ou guessed they’d broken u p ?” “ Yes. And she confirmed it.” “ D id she tell you what happened? Who broke it off? W hy?” “ N o , she didn’t want to talk about it” “ D id you know C arol Bell?” “ Dr. Bell’s wife? Yes, I met her a few times when I w as in­ terning at the clinic. She occasionally came over to the office to meet her husband for lunch.” “ Planned dates?” “ I don’t know. I gu ess.” But after a short pause she said, “ N ot always. Sometimes, she surprised him .” “ Y ou think she might have been checking up on him ?” “ I really don’t kn ow .” Julie hesitated. “ Claire once mentioned that she worried that Carol suspected something w as going on. I know it upset her.” N at w as sure it had upset Carol as well. She w as beginning to feel very sorry for the adulterous doctor’s wife. N at didn’t know how many lovers Bell had had over the years, but she knew two of them now: Claire Fisher— and Lynn Ingram. An image of the Bell family photo flashed in N a t’s mind. The little four-year-old girl nestled in her father’s arms. Daphne.

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Daphne, did you draw a picture o f a lady fo r your daddy? D id he tell you it was a silly m onster draw ing an d make you gigglef “ Y ou don’t think . . . The police don’t think— Dr. Bell shot Claire? I can’t believe it. It’s too horrible. Unim aginable.” Julie placed her palm s flat on her belly and closed her eyes. “ H ow far along are yo u ?” N at asked. “ I’m in my fifth m onth.” H er lips quivered again. “ It’s a boy. I just found ou t.” Tears started to flow again. “ I think I’ll m ake you that cup o f tea.” This time Julie didn’t turn down N a t’s offer.

“ You sound aw fu l,” Rachel said. N at, driving back home, had alm ost let her cell-phone voice­ mail take her sister’s call but changed her mind at the last minute. M aybe something had happened to one of Rachel’s kids. M aybe G ary had w alked out again. It w ould be no big surprise there. Actually, it would be a big relief. At least as far as N at w as concerned. She believed her sister w as only delaying a seesaw of heartache by taking G ary back again. “ I’m ok ay ,” N at said offhandedly. She didn’t want to discuss C laire’s murder. It w as still too raw. T oo jumbled. “ H ow are y o u ?” There w as a brief hesitation before Rachel answered. “ O kay, I guess.” “ G ary ?” N at surmised. “ H e’s really trying, N at. We both are. We have our good times and our bad tim es.” “ M aybe you should go into couple’s therapy?” N at said. “ I suggested that to Gary, but he said he’d rather we work it out ourselves.”

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“ M eaning he doesn’t want to be confronted by a professional about his behavior,” N at said acidly. “ It’s not another w om an, N at. H e sw ears— ” “ And o f course you believe him .” “ Y o u ’re so bitter, N at. M aybe if you’d been a bit less . . . unyielding, your own m arriage might not have— ” Rachel stopped abruptly. “ Sorry.” N at bristled. Probably because the same thought had occurred to her on plenty o f occasions. And not just regarding her ex. She could already feel herself erecting barriers between herself and Leo, wanting to shield herself from the rejection she w as unable to stop anticipating. “ Let’s not argue, N at. I’m fully aw are that G ary isn’t a saint. B u t . . . I love him. And if you love someone enough, it’s worth hanging in there and trying to m ake it w ork.” “ Yeah, Rach. Y o u ’re right,” N at said, not sure whether her sister w as more adept at denial than she w as, or whether Rachel w as, in fact, wiser and more gutsy when it came to intimate relationships.

twenty-three I have performed dozens o f sex-reassignment surgeries and have never had one patient report regretting the decision. Which is not to say there aren’t both complex physical and psychological adjustments. D

C A R R I E LI H E A D E D

r.

R o n a ld C h e ssm a n

N a t off in the corridor of the ICU as she w as on

her w ay to Lynn Ingram ’s room the next morning at a little past nine

a .m .

N at immediately felt a rush of alarm . “ Is she o k ay ?” “ Physically, as well as can be expected under the circum­ stances,” the young nurse said. “ Em otionally? N o t so good. Dr. V arda is with her.” “ W hat happened?” “ The reality of her extensive injuries is starting to hit her. She asked one o f the orderlies for a mirror. Stupidly, he gave her one without first checking— ” Carrie frowned. “ She started ripping

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off the bandages, screaming. The police guard outside her door rushed into her room , follow ed by myself and another nurse. It took all three of us to contain the poor wom an. I gave her a shot o f Valium and she calmed down some. We put fresh bandages on her face, and Dr. M adison spoke to her for a few minutes. Then the doctor told me to get in touch with Dr. V arda and see if he could come in to talk with Lynn. He got here about twenty minutes ago. It’s pretty quiet in there now .” “ I’ll w ait in the lounge until he comes out. Will you keep an eye out for him and let him know I’d like to talk with him before he leaves?” Carrie smiled. “ A bsolutely.” N a t’s cell phone rang as she stepped into the lounge. It w as Leo. “ H ave you found Bell?” she asked immediately. “ N o. But Carol Bell called the precinct at around ten

p .m

.

She

said she’d been out shopping at the mall with her kids and found a message on her answering machine from her husband. He said he w as somewhere in Rhode Island— ” “ Rhode Island?” “ En route from N ew York. “ W hat w as he doing in N ew Y o rk ?” “ C arol says all the m essage said w as that it turned out his m om w as okay after all. T hat it had been some kind o f m istake.” “ H is m om ?” “ Carol says her mother-in-law is in a nursing home in B rook­ lyn.” N a t rolled her eyes. “ Com e on, Leo. This is Bell’s alibi?” “ Well, we need to hear it from the horse’s m outh.” “ Where is he?” “ D on ’t know. H e supposedly said in the m essage that he was

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tired and w ould stop at a motel for the night and be back som e­ time this m orning.” “ N o mention of Claire Fisher’s m urder?” “ The wife says no. Apparently her husband didn’t yet know about it.” “ Yeah, right.” “ It gets better. I told M rs. Bell I’d be right down to get the tape with the m essage on it and she tells me that w on’t be pos­ sible. Her son Billy ‘accidentally’ erased it.” “ You think she m ade the call up? You think Carol Bell’s cov­ ering for her husban d?” There w as an aw kw ard silence. “ Where are you n ow ?” N at asked. “ Over at H orizon H ou se.” H er first thought was that he’d gone there looking for her. But her next and m ore disquieting thought w as that he’d gone there to see Suzanne. “ Where are y o u ?” Leo asked. “ Boston General. V ard a’s talking to Lynn.” She gave him a quick update. “ H e’s probably heard about Claire Fisher. It’s been all over the news by now. If he’s not in a panic, he should be. Y ou should be, too, N atalie.” “ I’m doing ok ay .” “ Until we get our hands on Bell, I don’t want you poking around. Y ou hear w hat I’m saying?” “ The phone connection is fine, L e o .” “ You think Lynn knows about Fisher?” Leo asked. “ N ot unless V arda told her. And I can’t imagine he w ou ld.” “ H ow long you gonna be over there?” he asked. “ I’m not sure. W hy?”

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“ I thought I’d bring you home for lunch. M y m om m ade lasagna. She know s how much you love it. And Jak ey ’s dying to show you his new train set.” N a t sw allow ed hard. She missed Jakey. She m issed Anna. She m issed the warm th and sense o f well-being she always felt at the Coscarelli home. And m ost o f all, she missed being there with Leo. H er misty gaze fell on the wall clock. “ It’s nine-fifteen now. I should be back at H orizon H ouse by eleven. Are you going to hang around there?” “ N o ,” he said. “ I’m leaving now. Why don’t I pick you up there around n oon ?” “ Yeah, ok ay ,” she said, even as she w as telling herself this w as not a good idea. “ G o o d ,” Leo said, sounding genuinely pleased. “ H ow ’s she doin g?” N at asked before he had a chance to hang up. “ Suzanne?” H e didn’t wait for confirmation. “ She’s pretty up­ tight.” “ She heard about Claire Fisher?” “ Y eah .” “ And you told her about the missing jou rn al?” “ Y eah.” “ W hat did she say ?” “ N oth ing.”

.

“ She m ust have said something, L eo .” “ Yeah, she said som ething,” he responded grimly. “ She said she never in her life wanted a fix so b ad .”

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“ H elp her to remember? I’m afraid it m ay have just the opposite effect,” Dr. V arda told N at. “ Seeing the mutilation done to her face alone has only intensified the traum a. I’d like to get my hands on that dam n orderly.” “ D id she say anything at all about the attack? Ask you any­ thing?” He shook his head. “ She’s withdrawing more and more into herself. It’s all too much for her. It’s going to take tim e.” “ H ow much tim e?” N at w as growing more and more im pa­ tient. Surely, as an experienced psychiatrist, V arda should have some w ay o f breaking through Lynn’s defenses. “ I don’t know .” “ W hat about hypnosis?” “ Dow n the line, yes, I w ould consider it.” “ ‘Dow n the line’ ?” “ When Lynn is em otionally and physically stronger. T o at­ tempt something like that now is far too risky.” “ And w hat about the risk o f getting killed?” she shot back angrily. N at w as sure V arda realized it w asn’t only Lynn she was thinking about, but him- and herself as well. He knew about Claire Fisher, and while the psychiatrist tried to maintain a pro­ fessional dem eanor, N at could see the flicker of fear in his eyes. H e w as scared. She w as scared. Leo w as scared. And out there somewhere, Dr. H arrison Bell w as probably scared as well. Scared o f getting caught, anyway. And he might get aw ay, at that. Right now all the cops had w as a mounting suspicion. But with no hard evidence, even if they found Bell, they were not going to be able to hold him in custody for m ore than twenty-four hours. And even if evidence turned up and H arrison Bell could be charged with the murder o f Claire Fisher, it remained pure supposition that Bell, and not

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Father Jo e Parker— or someone else for that m atter— had been responsible for the attem pted murders of Lynn Ingram and Suz­ anne Flolden. Their only real hope w as that Lynn Ingram not only had seen but w ould recognize her attacker. And that she could somehow be m ade to remember before someone else got hurt— or worse.

“ Sleep in this m orning?” Jack asked sardonically when N at got to H orizon H ouse at a few minutes past eleven

a .m

.,

R oss Varda

with her. After recounting Suzanne’s rem ark about desperately wanting to do dope, V arda thought it would be a good idea to ride over with N at to the center and see if she’d agree to have a little talk with him. N at thought it w as a good idea, too. While one o f her officers escorted the psychiatrist upstairs to Suzanne’s room , N at headed for her office. Ja ck follow ed her. “ Where were yo u ?” “ Boston G eneral.” She shrugged out of her gray blazer, hung it on the coat rack near the door, dropped her tote bag beside her desk, and sank into her chair. Jack remained standing on the other side o f her desk. “ You talk to Lynn?” “ She didn’t want to talk .” N at told him about Lynn’s dis­ tressing encounter with the mirror. “ I talked to the surgeon. She’s thinking of m oving Lynn out of ICU in a couple of days. I told her I wish she w ould keep her there a while longer. I just feel there’s m ore security up in IC U .” “ Any sign of her memory returning?” Jack asked. “ N one that I can see.” She scanned a pile o f phone-message m emos on her desk, re­

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lieved to see that none of them demanded her immediate atten­ tion. Still, she felt a flurry of anxiety. She hadn’t really been around the center enough lately to know how the inmates were coping with the stress o f two inmates having been attacked. “ Everything quiet here?” she asked Jack. “ Quiet enough.” She eyeballed him. “ W hat does that m ean?” “ R elax, N at. Everything’s okay. A couple of verbal spats. W hat looked like a no-show during an on-site visit this morning with M anuel D iaz over at Com m onw ealth Granite. But it turned out his boss had sent him out on a delivery.” Jack sat down. “ W hat else? Oh yeah, Sharon had her hands full with some m an­ ager of a hair salon where she’s placed a lot of our gals over the p ast two years. The w om an blew a gasket when our latest, N ina Simms, got it into her head to bleach her hair bright orange last night. The m anager took one look at her when Simms got into w ork this m orning and told her she w as through. Simms got a little worked-up herself, locked herself in the salon ’s bathroom with an electric razor. The m anager got ahold of Sharon, who raced over to the salon and finally got Simms to come out of the bathroom . Sharon sashays out with some kind of a wild buzz cut. M eanwhile, clients were coming in, and the m anager w as beside herself.” “ A n d ?” Jack smiled. “ Tw o clients flipped over the ’do and wanted Simms to duplicate it.” “ So Sim m s’s staying? Everything’s c o o l?” “ Everything’s co o l.” N at slum ped back in her chair. Jack gave her an assessing study. “ Y ou look lousy.”

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“ N o t as lousy as I feel. Y ou heard about Claire Fisher, I sup­ p o se?” “ Yeah. On the eleven-o’clock news last night. Y ou might have called m e.” “ I w asn ’t up to talking about it,” she said honestly. “ I just wanted to crawl into bed when I got home and pull the covers over my head.” “ Coscarelli spend the night?” She gave Jack a sharp look. “ Yeah, I know. N one of my fucking business.” Fie smiled dryly, no doubt taking a perverse enjoyment in his pun. But the smile faded quickly. “ By the w ay, Hutch told me he went to talk to Father Jo e ’s housekeeper last night.” “ After he heard about Claire Fisher?” Jack nodded. “ So now he’s really convinced Father Jo e w asn’t the one who stabbed Lynn?” “ He w as always convinced o f th at,” Jack said. “ Let’s just say that now he’s taken it up as a personal cause to prove the priest innocent of all w rongdoing.” “ And what did the housekeeper tell him ?” “ She insisted that Father Jo e w as in the rectory on Thursday during the time o f Lynn’s attack .” “ She saw him ?” “ N o. But she claim s som eone else did .” “ W ho?” “ She’s not sure. She’s checking aroun d.” “ Com e on, Jack . She told Hutch someone w as with the priest, but she w asn ’t there herself, and she has no idea who that som e­ one is?”

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“ T h at’s about the size o f it.” “ Why didn’t Father Jo e come forw ard with a name? If he had someone who could confirm his alibi, why w ould he say he was alone? Why withhold such vital inform ation?” Jack shrugged. “ I don’t know .” “ I don’t buy it. I think his housekeeper’s simply concocting some story to protect the priest’s reputation. W hat she doesn’t know is that, even if Father Jo e ’s exonerated, he w as still a sexual predator. He still raped Lynn at G rafton— ” “ Hey, don’t jum p down my throat, N at. I’m not the one ar­ guing with yo u .” “ Where is H utch?” “ C ool off a little first, N at. Let Hutch cool o ff a little, to o .” N at started to protest, but she knew Jack w as right. All that would happen w as that she and Hutch w ould get into a pointless shouting match. “ I should tell you, N at, that Hutch is thinking of putting in for a transfer.” This news devastated her. Hutch had been not only a trusted and supportive member of her staff since the beginning o f H o ­ rizon H ouse, but, more importantly, a friend. Jack touched her cheek. “ He w on’t go through with it. He loves this place as much as you do. Once this mess gets re­ solved— ” “ If it gets resolved,” she said wearily.

“ I’ve upped Suzanne’s dosage of antidepressants,” V arda told N at when he returned from his meeting with Suzanne, which had lasted a little over a half hour. “ Did she say anything?”

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V arda smiled wryly. “ Right. It’s confidential.” N at felt her frustration and irrita­ tion rising to the boiling point. “ I’m sorry, N atalie.” “ Y ou ’re sorry? Well, R oss, here’s something for you to mull over: Father Jo e m ay have had an alibi for the day Lynn w as cut to ribbons. Y ou know w hat that means? If that turns out to be true?” The color drained from his face. “ It means we’re all still in danger. ” “ Brilliant analysis,” she said sardonically. “ And I’m sure you can expand on that. Y ou see, if it w asn’t Father Jo e who attacked Lynn, chances are he w as also not the one who pum ped Suzanne full of H . O r assaulted you and ransacked your apartm ent and left that warning note on your medicine cabinet. Or, for that matter, left that vile draw ing for m e.” N at paused to let that sink in. “ It’s looking m ore and more like the person who murdered Claire Fisher very likely committed all of the crim es.” “ H arrison Bell,” V arda said weakly. “ H e’s certainly right up there on the list of possibilities,” N at said. “ Bell w as having an affair with Lynn. But I’m sure you already know that. W hat might come as news to you is that Bell w as also having an affair with his nurse, Claire Fisher— now deceased.” V arda m ade no response. H is expression w as oddly blank. “ Am I getting through to you here?” she shouted, as if to a deaf man. “ O f course you are,” he said tightly. “ Well, here’s something else for you to think about: Right now, even if the cops track Bell down, they have no solid evi­ dence to charge him with. Unless he confesses, chances are

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they’re going to have to cut him loose. But if you can give us something concrete, or even lead us in the right direction— ” Dr. V ard a’s com plexion reddened. “ You think I’m not afraid? Y ou think I want this monster roam ing the streets, maiming, killing? Com ing after me? I’m constantly checking my back. Every time the phone rings, my heart stops. I’d like to get in my car and just drive cross-country. Run away. Flee. But I can’t do that. I have two patients whose lives I hold in my hands. Be­ cause— m ake no m istake about it— Lynn Ingram and Suzanne H olden are both at an emotional precipice, and they’re barely able to hold themselves back from jum ping off and putting an end to their m isery.” “ Y o u ’re saying they’re both suicidal.” “ If you were in their shoes, w ouldn’t you be? ”

twenty-four He swears that who I am, what I’ve done, none o f it makes a difference. He says— ‘I love you.’ I clutch those words to my heart. L. I.

" I T ' S BEEN A W H IL E .

W e’ve missed you, N atalie. H aven’t we, Ja k e y ?”

Anna Coscarelli tousled her grandson’s dark curly hair as the four-year-old hovered close to her leg. H is brown eyes were fixed on N at, but there w as no smile. N o greeting. N o confirmation that she’d been missed. She felt a wrenching of her heart. She’d definitely been gone too long. “ Y ou didn’t see my play,” Jakey said petulantly. “ I w as a superhero. ‘Superkid.’ The strongest, toughest superhero in the world. Even stronger than Superman. ’Cause I’m littler than him but just as strong, so, like my dad says, that means I’m really more stron g.”

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N o m ore lisp when Jakey said s-words. H e w as growing up. And N at w as m issing it. But then, w hat right did she have to be part o f this child’s life? She tried to sw allow down the lump in her throat. “ W ow ,” w as about all she could m anage. “ It w as at nursery school,” Anna quickly elaborated. “ And you know very well, Jakey, that only family members were in­ vited to the perform ance.” Her explanation only saddened N at more, reminded her how much o f an outsider she w as. H ad Leo asked Suzanne to attend the play? N at glanced over at him, but he busied himself at the kitchen counter, dishing out heaping servings o f his mother’s fab ­ ulous lasagna. N a t knelt down to Jak ey ’s level. “ I have an idea. H ow about if, after lunch, you introduce me to Superkid?” It took a few seconds for Jakey to grasp what she w as saying, but then his eyes lit up. “ I have the whole costume. I can go put it on right now — ” He w as already dashing across the kitchen as Anna called out, “ H ow about we eat first, Ja k ey ?” “ Superkid needs the lasagna, G ram m a. T h at’s how he stays so strong,” Jakey shouted back. Anna beamed. “ H e’s something, isn’t he?” “ Y es,” N at said, the lump still lodged in her throat. Again her gaze slid over to Leo. This time their eyes met, but Leo looked distinctly uncom fortable and only held her gaze for a couple of seconds. N at w as wishing now she hadn’t agreed to this family get-together. It only brought the writing on the w all into sharper focus.

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G ood thing Jakey slipped into his Superkid persona at the start of lunch, because they didn’t get to finish their meal. A few bites in, Leo got a call that H arrison Bell had been picked up at the pain clinic. N at wanted to be in on the interrogation but only m anaged to get the okay from Leo to observe the interview through a one­ way mirror. She’d been watching for close to a half hour. Bell had gone from looking irate and dismissive, to haggard and frightened as time wore on. H e w as sitting next to his lawyer at one side o f a long wooden table. Bell’s legal counsel w as a young w om an by the name of Helen K atz. N at didn’t know her personally, but she knew that K atz worked for one of the top criminal-defense firms in the city. In contrast to her client, M s. K atz had the polished, calm appearance o f a w om an in control of the situation. N at w asn’t sure whether Bell found his lawyer’s demeanor all that com forting, because he w as sm art enough to realize the potential for things to slip out o f control in the blink o f an eye. “ Let’s go through it one more tim e,” Leo said. He and O ates were sitting directly across from Bell and Katz. A video camera affixed to the wall and angled down at them w as taping this session. Bell looked plaintively over at his attorney, but she merely nodded. H e sighed wearily. “ Yesterday afternoon, Claire . . .” He winced, as he had done each time he’d had to say her name. “ She told me she’d gotten a call from someone who identified himself as M ark Berman, a nurse at W estwood M anor in Brooklyn. He said that my mother, w ho’s a patient there, had taken a turn for the w orse— sadly, my mother has had several strokes over the past couple of years.

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“ Anyway, as I’ve already told you, I left the clinic as soon as I was finished with the patient I w as treating and drove straight to N ew York. I got tied up in rush-hour traffic on my way into the city so I called the nursing home for an update on my mother’s condition, only to discover that she w as fine . . . Well, as fine as she had been the day before. They said they had no one by the name of M ark Berman in their employ, nurse or oth­ erwise. I w as befuddled, irritated, and yet, obviously, relieved that my mother w as actually ok ay .” “ But Claire Fisher w asn’t ok ay ,” O ates said. Bell rubbed his face with the palm s of his hands. “ I didn’t know what had happened to C laire.” Leo took a sw allow of tepid coffee. “ It w as reported on the radio

by

eight

p .m

.”

Bell’s cup of coffee remained untouched. “ I didn’t have the radio on. Besides, I doubt it w ould have been on the news in N ew York. I had no idea. I still can’t believe it. Why w ould anyone— ? ” “ And again, you used a pay phone to place that call to the nursing hom e,” Leo interrupted. “ Yes. I’d forgotten to charge my cell phone. So I pulled off the road and m ade the call from a pay phone, then continued up the road a bit and got myself something to eat— ” “ This w as somewhere in Rye, N ew Y ork? Ju st off o f INinety-five?” O ates interrupted this time. “ Look, if I’d thought I’d need an alibi, I’d have paid closer attention. It w as a diner. Well, not exactly a diner. Ju st one of those crummy luncheonette-type places in a strip mall. I got a burger and fries, a C ok e.” “ And you paid cash ?” Leo queried. “ It came to seven dollars and change. I plunked down a ten-

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dollar bill and left. I started driving back home but I began finding myself nodding off. I’d been through an emotional roller-coaster ride. I’d thought my mother was on her deathbed, for chrissakes. ” “ Y ou can confirm the phone call he placed to the W estwood M anor at approxim ately five forty-five

p .m

.,” M

s.

K atz said with

just a hint of irritability. Leo leaned back in his chair. “ Yes, that’s true, M s. Katz. The problem is, the call could have been placed from anywhere.” He focused back on Bell. “ So you called your wife at— what time w as it ag ain ?” “ I don’t know precisely. Around nine

p .m

.”

“ And you waited that long because— ?” “ I thought she already knew w hat had happened. I’d asked Claire to phone Carol and let her know about my mother. I don’t for the life o f me know why Claire didn’t make that call. M aybe she forgot. O r maybe she called and Carol wTas out.” Bell wiped his dam p brow with the back of his hand. “ W ouldn’t she have left a m essage on your answering m a­ chine, then?” O ates asked offhandedly. “ O r maybe that one got ‘accidentally’ erased as w ell.” “ I don’t know. I just don’t kn ow .” Helen K atz put her hand on Bell’s shoulder. “ Take it easy. The detective’s just on a fishing expedition.” She looked over at O ates as she added, “ But he has no bait, so he’s not going to catch anything.” O ates appeared unperturbed. As did Leo. “ Let’s go over the m essage you say you left for your wife last night. It was around what time ag ain ?” “ Around nine-thirty, nine forty-five.” “ And you were in Providence, Rhode Island, at this poin t?”

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“ A pproaching Providence.” “ And you m ade this call from — ?” “ A gas station. Where I filled up my tank. Y o u ’ve got the receipt, for chrissakes.” “ And why exactly didn’t you drive straight back hom e?” “ I w as beat. I figured I’d better call and let C arol know I’d probably crash at a motel for the night and drive back in the m orning.” “ And when you stopped for the night, at this H oliday Inn, you didn’t think to give your wife another call, let her know where you w ere?” “ I told you,” Bell snapped, slam m ing his hands down on the table. “ When I got into my room , I w as exhausted. I lay down on the bed, fully clothed, meaning to just rest for a minute and then call home. The next thing I knew, it w as alm ost eleven o ’clock in the m orning.” “ Y ou alw ays sleep that late?” “ M y G od, I w as exhausted. I haven’t slept well in a w eek.” Guilty conscience, N at w as thinking. “ O kay, so you got up at eleven.” “ I missed my first two appointments. I w as late for my third— ” “ You didn’t call your office to let them know ?” “ I called several times, but the line w as busy. So I ran into the shower, dressed back in yesterday’s clothes, and drove straight over to the clinic. I w as planning to phone C arol from my office as soon as I got upstairs. I never got upstairs. Tw o cops strong-arm ed me, dragging me from my car before I’d even switched o ff the fucking ignition.” “ Let’s get back to the jou rn al,” Leo said. “ Dr. Bell has already told yo u ,” K atz interceded. “ H e knows

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nothing about a journal. You can ask him until kingdom come, and his answer will be the sam e as it’s been for the past hour. Let’s face it, Detective, you have absolutely nothing upon which to base a murder charge against Dr. Bell. So, if there’s nothing else, I’d like to take my client hom e.” Leo leaned forw ard. “ I just have two more questions for you, Dr. Bell. Exactly when did your affair with Claire Fisher end? And who ended it?” Bell flinched. As if he’d been sucker punched. “ W hat? Who told you— ? It’s a lie. We were never— I don’t know who told you that, but they were lying. I sw ear— ”

Carol Bell w as in the hallway outside the interrogation room , waiting for her husband to be released. She w as pacing back and forth nervously, checking her watch intermittently. She came to an abrupt halt when she spotted N at approaching. “ H ave you seen my husband? W hat’s happening? I’m going out o f my mind here.” Her eyes were bloodshot, and as N at watched her anxiously sm ooth her hair aw ay from her face, she saw that C aro l’s nails were ragged. They’d been perfectly m ani­ cured the last time N at had seen her. “ Why don’t we go get a cup of coffee?” N at suggested. Again C arol checked her watch. “ I need to pick Jo sh up at school in twenty minutes. H e’s got a dentist appointment. He didn’t even want to go to school today. Neither did Billy. For­ tunately, D aphne’s too young to realize w hat’s happening. But it’s been all over the news: their father wanted for questioning in the murder of his nurse. It’s a nightmare. A total nightm are.” “ Why don’t I drive you to Jo sh ’s school? Y ou don’t look like you’ve had much sleep, and driving back to N ew ton— ”

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“ B oston .” “ W hat?” “Josh is in private school. Brigham Academy. Still,” she paused to check the time yet again, “ there could be traffic. I should get goin g.” A little explosion went off in N a t’s head. Wait, Brigham Academy. Brigham Academy w as no more than a couple of blocks from the pain clinic. In the statement Carol Bell m ade to confirm her husband’s alibi that they were on the phone together when Lynn w as attacked, she’d told the police she’d called from a pay phone across the street from her son ’s school. At the time she m ade that statement, they’d been concerned only with verifying H arrison Bell’s alibi. But w hat about Bell’s wife? C arol Bell’s statement put her within two blocks o f the crime scene. Suddenly N a t w as looking at C arol Bell in a whole new, and altogether alarm ing, light. N ow she was seeing her as a betrayed wife. A protective mother appalled by her husband’s cheating w ays. A humiliated w om an fast losing her husband, not even to another w om an, but to a transsexual. And now Claire Fisher w as dead. Another of H arrison Bell’s lovers. “ W hat is it?” C arol asked N at. “ Y ou look like something’s wrong. ” “ N o, nothing’s w rong,” N at said quickly, not about to give aw ay her hand. C arol looked less than satisfied with N a t’s empty response. H er eyes narrowed. N at flashed on that vile drawing she’d received and felt a shudder of fear. W hat if she w as right about Carol Bell and Carol

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suspected she w as on to her? N at had more than giving aw ay her poker hand to worry about.

“ Slow down, N atalie.” They were sitting in L eo’s car outside H orizon H ouse. “ G ranted, it’s all guessw ork at this point, Leo. But you have to adm it, theoretically— ” “ Theories are all the fuck I do have. Fine for you to go latch­ ing on to one suspect after another, but Fve got to m ount some kind of a case— ” “ Fm not latching on to suspects,” N at said defensively. “ Is it my fault that there’ve been several very viable candidates here?” “ And now you’ve dug up yet another,” Leo said wearily, but he m anaged a faint smile. “ Sorry. I didn’t mean to jump down your throat. Y ou did good. M aybe I’m just jealous. If it does turn out to be C arol Bell, you’ll deserve a m edal.” “ I don’t want a m edal, Leo. I just want to get to the bottom o f this mess. H ave it over w ith.” He took her hand. “ M e to o .” He hesitated. “ Look, N atalie, I know we’ve got some loose strands that need to be tied up— ” “ Father Jo e ’s suicide being one o f them ?” The priest’s death was still weighing heavily on N a t’s mind. “ Y eah,” Leo said, fixing his eyes on her. “ But I w as mostly thinking about Suzanne.” Yeah, that’s a problem all right. Thinking too much about Suzanne, that is. N at kept the disturbing thought to herself, but she eased her hand from L eo’s. “ Some strands don’t tie up so easily,” she m ut­ tered. Leo sighed. “ Well, right now I guess we should focus on

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where Carol Bell w as between five and six-fifteen last night. See if she has an alibi for the time of Claire Fisher’s murder. But right now, my money’s still on the husband. Remember, he’s the one who knew about the journal, not his w ife.” “ M aybe he told C arol it w as found.” Leo gave N at a dubious look. “ Why the hell w ould he?” N at sat quietly for a few minutes, trying to sort it all out. The pieces started to fit together. She looked over at Leo. “ W hat if H arrison Bell knew ?” “ Knew w h at?” “ T hat his wife attacked Lynn. Think about it a minute, Leo. T ake that phone call H arrison and Carol both swear they were having about their son while Lynn was being attacked down in that alley. W hat if it not only never took place, but w hat if Carol and H arrison concocted the phone call between them? Creating what they believed would provide an alibi for both o f them ?” “ Y ou’re losing me, N atalie.” “ Let’s say it w as Carol out there in that alleyway lying in wait for Lynn. Bell told me Lynn ate in the same restaurant most days. Carol would have known where, and approxim ately when, Lynn ate lunch. Remember, it w as raining that day, so C arol could pretty much count on Lynn’s taking the shortcut through the alleyw ay.” N at could see by the way Leo w as looking at her that he w as beginning to see the picture she w as drawing. Whether or not he was buying it, w as another question. “ H arrison could have headed out of the building and started through the alleyway to go meet Lynn at the restaurant, only to catch his wife in the act of stabbing Lynn. H is wife. The mother of his children. Is he really going to turn his own wife in? See his family destroyed? N ot to mention have his infidelity exposed?

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On the front page of every tabloid: ‘Pain D octor in Sex Scandal with a T ran ssexual.’ Besides,” N at added, excited by how much sense her new theory m ade, “ on some level, he’s got to feel re­ sponsible.” “ Y eah ,” Leo said dryly, “ he w as the one who couldn’t keep his dick in his p an ts.” “ And then— ” “ Problem .” Leo cut her off. “ The clerk who w as coming back to the office from lunch? The one wrho saw Bell and Lynn in the alleyway? She didn’t see Bell’s w ife.” “ C arol could have ducked behind the Dum pster before the clerk saw her,” N at w as quick to say. “ And then Claire unearths the journal. H arrison m ust have shit a brick. Probably because he w as panicked that he’d really be on the hot seat now. One thing to cover up for his wife, another to take the rap for her.” “ So you think he called C arol, told her she better do som e­ thing about the jou rn al?” “ Yes, Leo, that’s precisely w hat I’m thinking.” “ I like it. N ow all we need to do is prove it,” Leo said glumly.

twenty-five N o comment. D (st a t e m e n t

FOR THE SECOND

to pr ess a fter

r

. H

a r r is o n

Ly n n I n g r a m

Bell

a ssa u lt)

time in one day, N atalie Price found herself sitting

in an airless room in front of a one-way mirror. On the other side of this mirror, in the adjoining windowless interrogation room , sat Leo Coscarelli and M itchell O ates across from two men. The older of the two men, heavyset and gray-haired, was wearing a priest’s collar. He identified himself as Bishop Edw ard M ichaelson of the Boston Diocese. The younger man, sallow ­ skinned, rail-thin, tugging nervously at the cuffs of a navy car­ digan, identified himself as A lan Forest. “ I’d like you to repeat the statement you m ade to me a short while ago, M r. Forest,” O ates said.

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Forest anxiously glanced over at the bishop, then stared down at the scarred w ood table. “ I w as with Father Jo e Parker on Thursday, September twenty-seventh,” he mumbled. “ A little louder, M r. Forest,” O ates said. Forest repeated the statement, this time adding that he’d ar­ rived at the rectory that day at a little before noon and left shortly after two o ’clock. N at caught a quick glance between O ates and Leo. Leo sat up a bit straighter in his chair. The bishop leaned forw ard, clasping his hands together, fin­ gers intertwined. “ Alan arrived at my office at approxim ately two-thirty that sam e afternoon, telling me that he had come directly from a meeting with Father Jo e .” Leo scowled. “ Why didn’t Father Jo e tell me about that meet­ ing when I questioned him as to his w hereabouts on the twentyseventh?” “ H e couldn’t tell you,” Alan Forest said grimly. “ I went there for him to hear my confession.” “ A two-hour confession? M an, you must have had a hell of a lot to get off your chest,” Leo said sardonically. Forest flushed scarlet, his head dropping so that his chin w as practically resting on his chest. “ Until September twenty-seventh, Detective, I w as a priest. I confessed to Father Jo e that day that I had committed a m ortal sin. I confessed that I had been having an affair with one o f my parishioners.” H is head, somehow, m anaged to drop even lower. Bishop M ichaelson remained rem arkably poised. “ Alan came to me that day and told me that, after a lengthy and soulsearching conversation with Father Jo e, he had decided to leave the church.” N at caught another shared glance between Leo and Oates.

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“ Why come forw ard n ow ?” Leo asked. “ I w ould have com e forw ard sooner had I known the Father w as in need of an alibi for that tim e.” Forest had lifted his head and w as looking directly at Leo. “ When I read in the paper that Father Jo e had committed suicide, there w as nothing in the article about him being a suspect in a criminal investigation. I merely thought he w as depressed. I even worried that Pd contributed to that depression. I had no idea until today, when the bishop came to see me in W altham, where I’ve been staying with my mother— ” The bishop interrupted: “ I arrived back from a weeklong con­ ference in W ashington last night. As is invariably the case, there w as a pile of m essages on my desk waiting for me upon my return. As it turned out, half a dozen of them were from M elissa R aym on d.” Leo scowled. “ Father Jo e ’s housekeeper?” “ I phoned her first thing this morning. I’ve known M elissa since she w as a child. She w as extremely distraught. She told me this fantastic story about Father Jo e having been accused o f bru­ tally stabbing a wom an nearly to death— I couldn’t believe it.” Leo cocked his head. “ Y ou knew he’d hanged him self.” The bishop nodded. “ Priests are not immune to severe de­ pression, Detective Coscarelli. I wish to G od I had known what w as troubling him .” N at felt herself stiffen with anger. She could certainly give the bishop an earful. Despite this affirmation of Father Jo e ’s inno­ cence regarding the September 2 7 attack on Lynn, raping her when she w as in prison gave the priest plenty-enough reason to feel troubled. O r maybe the only thing that really had troubled Father Jo e w as that, thanks to Suzanne, they were on to him. The bishop continued after a brief pause. “ I checked the date

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in my daily diary and saw A lan ’s name penciled in for the twentyseventh. I remembered that exceedingly em otional meeting we’d had and phoned Alan. He agreed to give a statement to the police and asked if I would accom pany him. So here we are.”

“ It’s not that I don’t want to rem em ber,” Lynn said earnestly. “ But it’s still a total blank.” Carrie Li cam e into the room , greeted N at warmly, nodded at Leo, then stepped over to her patient’s bed. “ H ow are you feeling?” Carrie asked, tapping tw o capsules from a tiny paper cup into Lynn’s palm. “ Still a little dizzy.” Lynn popped the pills into her mouth while Carrie picked up the plastic glass o f water, deposited a fresh straw into it, and brought the straw to Lynn’s chapped lips. “ W hat are those pills fo r?” N at asked. “ One is for pain, the other’s for anxiety,” Carrie said. “ M aybe the drugs are m aking her dizzy,” Leo suggested. And, N at w as sure he w as thinking, keeping her memory cloudy. “ It’s possible. Dr. M adison did cut back on the pain meds yesterday. And I have a call in to Dr. V arda who prescribed the Z oloft to see if he w ants to reevaluate the do sage.” Lynn shut her eyes. “ Dr. V arda’s been trying to prepare me for how I’ll look when . . . when the bandages finally come off. I keep telling m yself I can handle it. I have to keep reminding myself I’m lucky even to be alive. Dr. M adison says it’s a miracle I pulled through. So . . . I w on’t be . . .” She stopped, her lips trembling as she fought back tears. “ . . . Pretty . . . anymore. Big deal.”

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She m anaged a faint smile, her eyes opening, coming to rest on N at. “ Women. We’re so vain.” Carrie Li rested a hand lightly on Lynn’s shoulder. “ It’ll take time, Lynn, but you do remember that Dr. M adison told you a lot can be done with plastic surgery. O f course, you’ll have to go through a long series of ordeals— ” “ I’ve already been through the worst ord eal,” Lynn said hoarsely. “ And I don’t mean w hat’s just happened to m e.” N at stepped a little closer to the hospital bed. “ Are you talk­ ing about your time at Grafton, Lynn?” she asked softly. “ I’m talking about before that. Before prison. Even before M atthew. The w orst ordeal w as having to live m ost of my life in the wrong body. N othing can be worse than that. I’d rather live the rest of my life as a hideously disfigured wom an than be im prisoned in a handsom e m an’s body.” Carrie Li sm oothed a dam p strand of Lynn’s hair from her forehead. “ Y ou w on’t be hideously disfigured,” she said with a professional assurance. “ I’ll stop by later.” “ C arrie?” N at called out as the nurse started to exit the room. “ I w as wondering if H arrison Bell has phoned or dropped by again .” “ N o ,” the nurse said. “ He hasn’t .” N at looked over at Lynn, saw the flash of disappointm ent on her face. O r w as the feeling deeper than disappointm ent? “ Leo, why don’t you see if you can track down Dr. M adi­ so n ?” N at said. “ Find out when she plans to move Lynn out of IC U ?” N at w as prepared for an argument, but she didn’t get one. M aybe Leo realized she stood a better chance talking alone with Lynn. When the two women were alone, N at pulled up a chair be­

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side the bed. She noticed that Lynn’s eyes were beginning to take on a glassy look. The medication w as taking hold of her. Pretty soon she’d be out like a light. “ I saw H arrison today, Lynn. M aybe he hasn’t called, but I know he’s very concerned about how you’re doing.” “ Is he?” she asked weakly. “ Tell him . . . Tell him I’ll be fine.” “ D o you want to see him ?” She shook her head. “ N o. N o t like this. N o t the way I look now .” “ Are you afraid he w on’t want you now that you’ve been injured?” Lynn didn’t respond. “ Y ou ’re in love with him .” “ N o .” “ D id you break it off with him because his wife found o u t?” “ I’m sleepy.” “ Lynn, you do remember ending the affair. In H arrison’s of­ fice. The two o f you were overheard. He w as very upset, Lynn. You do remember that.” “ I didn’t want to hurt him. But it w asn’t right. It w asn’t right.” “ H is wife knew, didn’t she, Lynn? D id she threaten you? W as it C arol Bell that day in the alleyway? Y ou need to remember, Lynn. Try. Please try.” Lynn closed her eyes. She w as silent for several minutes. N at thought she m ust have fallen asleep. “ H e asked me to m arry him. He . . . begged me. But I said no. I said, ‘N o , I can’t.’ I told him I didn’t love him. He w ouldn’t believe me. I kept trying to m ake him understand. But he w ouldn’t listen. He got so angry. I know I hurt him. I’m sorry. Please tell him I’m sorry.”

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“ Lynn— ” “ N o. N o more. Please go away. Please. I need to sleep. Please.”

Suzanne stood at N a t’s office door, nervously clutching her arms, her gaze skidding back and forth between N at and Leo. She looked like hell. D ark circles under her eyes, hair not only un­ w ashed but uncombed, her beige blouse wrinkled. She had on a pair of slippers, not even having bothered to put on shoes. “ W hat did you want to see me fo r?” Her voice had the husky sound of som eone w ho’s just been awakened, yet it w as sixfifteen at night. N at had already had reports by a couple of her officers that Suzanne had been spending much o f her time sleep­ ing since she’d been confined to the house. A typical sym ptom of depression. N at wondered when the antidepressants Varda had started Suzanne on w ould kick in. Leo w alked over to her. “ We need to talk, Suzanne.” He took firm hold o f her shoulder— nothing tender in his touch now— and steered her into the room , shutting the door with the heel of his shoe. Suzanne looked taken aback by his gruffness. And even more nervous. “ Please sit down, Suzanne,” N at said, her tone deliberately softer in an effort to quell the inm ate’s anxiety. Leo might think he could brow beat her into talking, but N at didn’t agree. Suz­ anne w as scared. Com ing down hard on her would only m ake her retreat more. Leo didn’t give Suzanne the opportunity to comply on her own with N a t’s request. H e practically pushed her into one of the chairs facing N a t’s desk, then remained standing over her.

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N at w anted to tell him to sit down as well, but she thought he’d bite her head off. “ O k ay ,” he said, his eyes boring into Suzanne. “ Let’s start with H arrison Bell. Y ou knew he and Lynn were having an affair. Lynn told yo u .” He deliberately m ade these points as statements, not questions. Susanne stared down at the floor, hands clenched tightly on her lap. “ H e asked her to m arry him. She told you about that, to o .” “ Is that right, Suzanne?” N at asked, annoyed with L eo’s drillsergeant tactics. “ D id Lynn tell you H arrison wanted to marry her?” “ H e’s already m arried,” Suzanne mumbled, eyes remaining downcast. “ You got that right, Suzanne. H e’s already m arried,” Leo re­ peated harshly. “ So I guess he’d have had to dump his wife if he w as going to m arry Lynn. N ow , how do you think C arol w ould feel about that? Getting dumped for someone who w asn ’t even really a w om an ?” Suzanne’s head popped up. She cast Leo an angry look. “ Lynn is a wom an. She’s every bit a w om an .” “ Yeah, you room ed with her so you know ,” Leo came right back at her. “ You know plenty about Lynn. Because you were friends, right? I mean, granted, you looked the other way when Father Jo e raped her in the joint. But then, you and the priest had a special relationship.” Suzanne flinched, her already-ashen com plexion going whiter. “ Leo, take it easy,’’ N at said. He ignored her, Suzanne’s silence only fueling his anger and frustration. “ I suppose you know we had the priest pegged for carving up

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your room m ate. But guess what, Suzanne? Father Jo e had himself an alibi. N o t that it’s doing him much good now that he’s ten feet underground. O r should I say, now that he’s in hell? Because taking your own life, according to Catholic doctrine, is a m ortal sin. Y ou know that, Suzanne. A priest who commits suicide doesn’t go to heaven. But then, he w ouldn’t have gone anyway, since F d say rape is pretty high up there on the mortal-sins list.” Tears were gushing down Suzanne’s face. “ Sto p ,” she shouted as she started to spring out o f her chair, looking desperate to get away. But Leo shoved her back down. “ I know, Suzanne. Right now, you’d like a nice big shot of H to chase all your troubles away. Then you could just float, huh?” Suzanne had tears running down her face but she stared de­ fiantly up at him. “ Y o u ’re fucking right, Leo. T h at’s just w hat I w an t.” “ And what I want is some answ ers.” “ I don’t have an y,” she screamed at him. N at got up, w alked around her desk, moved a chair next to Suzanne, and sat down beside her. “ Suzanne, we think we know w ho’s responsible for what hap­ pened to Lynn. And for w hat happened to yo u .” She looked searchingly at N at. “ D id Lynn talk to you about Carol Bell?” Suzanne continued eyeing N at, but didn’t respond. “W as she scared of C arol Bell?” N at persisted. Still no response. Leo angrily slam m ed his hand down on the desk, causing both women to jum p. “ D am n it, Suzanne. She can’t hurt you in here. N o one can hurt you in here. Ju st tell me and I’ll protect you. I w on’t let anything else happen to you. I sw ear— ” “ Y ou don’t get it. You just don’t get it.”

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“ Then help us understand, Suzanne,” N at said softly. Suzanne put her hands up to her face as wrenching sobs erupted. “ I can’t. I can’t.” Leo knelt in front of her, his fury dissipated. “ O kay, Suz. O kay, take it easy. I’m sorry I came down so hard on yo u .” He gently stroked her hair. “ Shhhh,” he soothed, pressing her against his chest. N ow it w as all N at could do not to spring out of her chair and run from the room . But she knew there w as no running aw ay from this. N o escape from the truth o f L eo’s feelings for Suzanne. N o t that either of them would have noticed if she had left. They both seemed oblivious to her presence.

3.i . v V | | 3

twenty-six I ask him, “ Why does it have to be so difficult?” And he answers, “Let me help you. ” L. I.

"ARE YOU GAME

for a gallery opening tonight?” Sharon Johnson

asked. N at looked up from the overflowing case file of an inmate from N orton w ho’d been okayed for transfer and w as due at H orizon H ouse in tw o days. “ Is it R ay ’s w o rk?” “ Well, she’s got a couple o f paintings in it. It’s a group show. All women o f color. It’s in Cam bridge. Lots of free champagKeJ M aybe you’d like to ask Leo to join u s.”

*!

N a t’s expression m ust have been answer enough, because Sharon quickly said, “ Forget Leo, then.” I w ish: “ Com e o n ,” Sharon coaxed. “ It’ll be a girls’ night o u t.”

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N a t looked back down at the backlog o f reports and files on her desk that she still needed to review— monthly employer eval­ uations and program updates on current residents, several files on inmates who had been recommended for prerelease, and two more files on already-approved transfers. “ I know ,” Sharon said. “ But you need to put a little fun in your life, girl. Besides, Raylene misses you. She thinks they’ve got you hermetically sealed in here.” “ The problem is I haven’t been here enough. I’m so far behind it isn’t funny.” “ N o , life hasn’t been a barrel o f laughs for you lately, has it? Any progress on the Ingram attack ?” N at told her employment counselor her theory about the Bells. “ And, honey, a w om an scorned is a dangerous w om an ,” Sharon mused. “ W e’ve both seen enough of them serving time. Usually they do in the cheating husband. But plenty of them throw in the home wrecker for good m easure.” N at was staring at Sharon, her mind racing. “ W hat is it?” she asked. “ I wonder if that’s what C arol’s planning.” “ W hat? To finish off her husband? I don’t know ,” Sharon said. “ W ithout him to cast suspicion on, she’d have to worry the focus o f the investigation would shift to her.” “ Yes, but that’s just it. If H arrison Bell gets backed into a corner and thinks that he’s going to end up taking the heat for his w ife’s crimes, he might very well come clean. And Carol can’t r-jsjt that. She’d counted on the alibis she’d concocted for him, but now that the police have shot holes in those alibis— ” “ Y o u ’d think she’d have been a bit more clever,” Sharon said. “ Com e up with alibis for him that couldn’t be so easily dis­ puted.”

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“ Yeah, that does bother me a bit,” N at admitted. Sharon shrugged. “ I bet R oss V arda w ould say in typical shrink fashion that on some level Carol wanted H arrison’s alibis to be challenged. W anted him to be suspected. T o suffer. After all, if he hadn’t cheated on her, she w ouldn’t have been driven to take such violent action.” N at nodded, but something still w asn ’t sitting right. She just couldn’t put her finger on w hat it w as. “ S o ,” Sharon said, “ will you com e?” “ W hat?” “ T o the sh ow ?” “ I’d like to, but really, I’ve got to catch up on all this.” N at reached for her briefcase and started stuffing in reports. “ I should just cam p here for the night and get through the whole lot, but I’ve got to go home and feed H annah and give my starved-forattention pup some quality time. I’m sure she’s feeling aban ­ doned.” And N at knew just how she felt.

“ H annah? Here, girl.” A disquieting sensation of deja vu hit N at when her dog didn’t make an appearance. H ad Rachel had another falling-out with Gary? H ad she shown up here again and decided to take H annah out for a walk? It seemed highly unlikely, but N at wanted to believe in this scenario. Because any other scenario w as too upsetting to con­ template. N at pulled open the drawer of the entry table where she kept H annah’s retractable leash. The leash w as gone. She didn’t ex­ actly feel relieved, but the missing leash supported her hypothesis.

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She w alked down the hall to the kitchen, went straight to the phone, and dialed Rachel’s number. It w as picked up on the third ring. N at w as heartsick when she heard Rachel’s voice on the other end of the line. “ Rachel, it’s N at. You haven’t by any chance got H annah over there?” N at could hear the edge of panic in her voice. “ O f course not. Why w ould I— ?” “ She’s gone.” N a t’s panic w as starting to bubble over. “ Where would she g o ? ” “ I don’t know .” “ W hat about Leo? M aybe Leo came by— ” “ R ight,” N at cut her sister off, feeling a surge of optimism. “ Leo. Thanks, Rach. I’ll talk to you later.” She w as already see­ ing it in her m ind’s eye: Leo coming over to her place because he knew how upset she must be after once again witnessing him embrace Suzanne. N o t finding her home yet, he took H annah out. It not only m ade complete sense, it buoyed her spirits about their faltering relationship. M aybe there w as some hope for it yet. She dialed L eo’s cell-phone number, picturing him reaching for it while he w as holding on to H annah’s leash with his other hand. When he picked up, she heard mostly static. Where the hell w as he walking H annah? “ Leo, where are you ?” “ This moment? Going through an overpass on the M ass Pike. In about ten minutes I’ll be in N ew ton.” She m ade out every other w ord or so through the static. “ Y o u ’re in your c ar?” “W hat’s the m atter?” “ Y ou don’t have H annah with you, do y o u ?” H er optimism w as fading fast.

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“ W hat?” “ H an n ah ,” she practically screamed into the mouthpiece. “ N o . W hat— ?” H is voice broke up completely. N at hung up, feeling close to having an em otional breakdown. She rushed back to the front door, inspecting both the door­ jam b and the lock. Only Rachel and Leo had keys to the apart­ ment. Anyone else w ould have had to break in. But there w as no sign o f any forced entry. She ran around the house, checking the windows. All locked. She’d been extra vigilant since getting that drawing. H ow had the cfognapper gotten in here? The phone rang. She snatched it up on the first ring. It w as Leo calling back. The line now w as, thankfully, staticfree. “ W hat’s happened to H ann ah ?” he asked immediately. “ She took him. O r he did. I don’t know how the fuck either o f them got in here but it’s got to be one of them. If they harm so much as a hair on H annah’s head, I swear I’ll fucking kill them .” “ Calm down. Y o u ’re talking about the Bells, righ t?” “ They must realize I’m on to them. I w as warned, and now they’re letting me know I’m going to pay the price.” “ L ook, O ats and I are going to be at the Bells in a few minutes. If they’ve got H annah over there— ” “W hat do you expect? That H annah’ll come loping down the stairs and greet you at the d o o r?” “ H annah sheds like nobody’s business, N atalie. If the d o g’s been in that compulsively spotless house, w e’ll see hairs. Sit tight. I’ll call you back as soon as I know som ething.” “ L eo ?” “ Y eah ?”

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“ I love— ” “ I know, N atalie. M e to o .” Were they both talking about H annah?

As the minutes passed, N at became jittery with apprehension. She started pacing the apartm ent. Every time she passed a phone she willed it to ring. The silence w as intolerable. A piercing re­ minder o f H annah’s absence. She tried to tell herself it w as outof-hand, this intense attachment she’d formed to a dog. It was one thing if it had been a child— her child. God knew, she’d ached for a child for a long time. She w ould have happily become pregnant soon after she w as married. But Ethan kept saying he w asn’t ready for the responsibility o f parenthood. Even when he begrudgingly gave in, he seemed relieved each time she got her period. N at still found it ironic that he’d left her for another wom an whom he’d gotten pregnant. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes when her phone did ring. “ L e o ?” “ Y o u ’ll find your dog in the trunk of your c ar.” The voice w as a husky whisper. N at couldn’t even distinguish if it w as male or female. It w as certainly in no way familiar. “ She’s still alive. But you’d better hurry.” Before N at could respond, the line went dead.

She didn’t wait for the elevator. T oo slow. She bolted down the stairs, flight after flight, her heart pounding. Breathless and fran­ tic, she threw open the door to the underground garage. The parking space she owned w as at the far end of the garage, close

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to the entrance from the street. She w as racing tow ard her car— she couldn’t have been m ore than thirty yards from it— when she pulled herself up short. W hat the hell w as she doing? Suddenly, her addled mind started to function again. She’d driven into this garage not twenty minutes ago. W hoever had m anaged to get into her apartm ent and take H annah, had to have stuck the dog in the trunk sometime after N at had parked her car and gone upstairs. Sometime within the last twenty minutes. W hoever it w as, he, or she, could very well still be lurking down there this very minute. Lying in w ait for her. And N at, like a complete idiot, had blithely obliged. The shrill sound of a car alarm abruptly going off had her practically jum ping out o f her skin. A short distance ahead of her, a car’s headlights began flashing on and off, on and off, as the nerve-shattering beep, beep, beep o f the car alarm echoed through the garage. One beep sounded sharply louder. N at w asn’t sure if she re­ alized the alarm blare w as synchronized with a gunshot before or after the windshield o f the car she w as standing closest to shattered upon the bullet’s impact. Even as she instinctively lurched in the opposite direction, looking for cover, she w as thinking that the shooter w as clever. C ar alarm s were heard going off all the time. If the owner o f the car w asn’t nearby to shut it off, people ignored the blare, know ­ ing that it would autom atically click off within a few minutes. N o one w ould come to investigate. N ot that anyone would come running if they heard gunshots, but at least then someone might call the police. T oo far from the exit back into the building, N at dodged for cover behind a black Jeep. Right now she w as damning the enor­

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m ous number of lights down there that all the condo owners, herself included, had insisted upon having installed in the garage. For safety! Another shot rang out, again synchronized with another beep of the alarm . The bullet pinged into the metal inches from where N at w as squatting. She dove under the car. Curling herself into a fetal position, she w as stricken with panic and dread. There was no escape. Even as she w as literally preparing to die, to be shot in cold blood, a car came roaring into the garage and pulled up short in front of the car whose alarm w as continuing to blare. Seconds later, silence. M erciful silence. And then, after a few more moments, a m an’s voice. “ R usso calling in. Everything’s A-O K with the M ercedes. N o sign of tam ­ pering.” A security patrol. There couldn’t have been more than one car in a hundred that actually had an alarm system hooked up to a security com pany. Exhaling her first breath in probably a minute, N at w as overcome with relief. She crawled on her belly tow ard the front o f the Jeep. “ Please,” she called out hoarsely, “ help m e.”

“ H ere,” M itchell O ates said gruffly, handing N at a plate on which were a couple of slices of toast heavily sprinkled with sugar. “ I never figured you for the domestic type.” Leo’s partner didn’t crack a smile, but Leo grinned. “ H is wife would second th at,” Leo said. “ Eat it,” O ates said gruffly. “ Y ou ’ll feel better.” Despite the detective’s surly demeanor N at detected an actual

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hint of concern for her. She found this so rem arkable— O ates had never im pressed her as feeling anything but irritation tow ard her— that she obediently bit into the sickly sweet concoction. T o her surprise, after a few bites, she did start to feel less jittery. “ A stiff shot o f bourbon would go good with that. G ot any arou n d ?” Tony R usso asked. Leo glanced over at the guard from Com m onw ealth Security whose timely arrival in the parking garage had thankfully scared off the shooter. Although he’d given his statement to the police over twenty minutes ago, the burly thirty-something guard was still hanging around, being very solicitous to N at. “ In the buffet.” Leo pointed across the room. “ Left-side cup­ board. M ake it scotch.” R usso arched a brow. “ I see you know your w ay around this place, D etective.” “ D on ’t you need to get back on duty?” Leo asked pointedly. R usso merely grinned. And, to N a t’s amazement, O ates ac­ tually cracked a smile. He dropped it when Leo caught his eye. R usso brought N at a double shot of scotch, watched her take a sip. “ H ow ’s th at?” he asked. “ It’s fine,” Leo answered for her. O ates walked over to R usso, dropped a hand on his shoulder. “ Y ou can take off, man. W e’ll be in touch if we have any more questions. ” R u sso nodded reluctantly. He slipped on his blue windbreaker with his com pany’s emblem. O ates accom panied him to the front door. Pausing before he exited, R usso looked back at her. “ Y ou be careful, N at. And don’t you worry too much about your dog. I just got a gut feeling she’s okay. And that she’ll turn u p .” “ I hope so ,” she said, fighting to keep the quiver from her

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voice. T o no one’s surprise, least o f all N a t’s, H annah hadn’t been in the trunk of her car. The dog w as still missing. And as much as N at desperately wanted to believe Russo, she w as start­ ing to hold out little hope. O ates opened the front door and started to steer the security officer over the threshold. “ T on y,” N a t called out. He looked back over his shoulder. “ Thanks. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. You saved my life.” The far-from-unattractive security guard beamed. “ Anytime. I mean that now, N at. Y ou got my card. H om e num ber’s on the back. Y ou need anything, you call. D ay or night. I live alone so you don’t have to worry about waking anyone else u p .” He winked to m ake sure she’d got the message. O ates bit back another smile as R usso exited. O ates followed him out, leaving Leo and N a t alone. She set her drink on the coffee table. “ So, what do you think, L e o ?” “ A bout the shooter? All we know for sure is the two bullets we recovered in the garage are the same caliber as the bullet that w as lodged in Claire Fisher’s chest.” Shivering, she quickly retrieved her drink and took a long swallow. “ And neither C arol nor H arrison Bell were at home when you got there.” She repeated what L eo’d told her earlier. “Jo sh said his parents went out for dinner.” “ But he didn’t know w hat restaurant they went to. Bullshit,” she said. “ Parents don’t leave their kids at home without letting them know where they can be reached in an emergency.”

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“ I m ade that same point to the kid. H e said he could always call his dad on his cell phone.” “ But when you rang his cell-phone number— ” “ Yeah, I know. Bell didn’t pick u p.” “ H e w as too busy firing shots at me. O r too anxious waiting outside in his car while his wife w as doing the dirty w ork.” “ N atalie— ” “ I know what you’re going to say, Leo. It’s all supposition. Ju st like it’s ‘supposition’ that they took — ” Her voice cracked. “ D o you think they killed H an n ah ?” “ H onestly?” Leo said. “ N o . There’s nothing to be gained by doing aw ay with H annah. It’s not like whoever it w as wanted you to suffer the loss o f your beloved dog. You were meant to die down there in that garage, N atalie.” He winced as he made that statement. “ So where is she, L e o ?” “ M aybe H annah w as turned loose on the street. W e’ll check with the pound, see if she w as brought in. W e’ll find her, N a ­ talie.” But his prom ise lacked assurance. And brought little comfort. N at felt she’d lost H annah forever. Ju st like she always seemed to lose everyone she loved. “ I can stay— ” he started, but N at shook her head. “ D on ’t push me away, N atalie. If nothing else, you need a shoulder to cry o n ,” he said softly. “ Y our shoulder’s already occupied.” Leo heaved a sigh o f frustration. “Jealousy doesn’t become you, N atalie.” “ Neither does feeling like a third wheel.” He looked at her long and hard for several moments. “ This

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is no time to get into this. Y ou ’re upset over H annah. I know how much you love that d o g .” Tears spiked N a t’s eyes. “ I’m gonna find her, N atalie. J u s t . . . hold on .” She nodded tremulously, letting Leo fold her in his arms. Let­ ting herself cry on his crowded shoulder after all. But she didn’t stop him when he left a few minutes later. Even though she wanted to.

twenty-seven When I get out, when I am finally free, hopefully I ’ll be able to reclaim my life, my soul. L. I.

THE N E X T D A Y ,

N at w as in her office at nine

a

.m .,

feeling exhausted.

The media had quickly gotten wind of the shoot-out in her park ­ ing garage last night. Although she’d unplugged her phone after w ord got out, she didn’t sleep a wink. This morning, she’d needed the help o f a couple of uniforms to dodge reporters gath­ ered both outside her building and in front o f H orizon H ouse. Her knight in shining arm or, Tony R usso, on the other hand, had been only too happy to share the story of his daring rescue o f the superintendent of H orizon H ouse with anyone who would listen. Ja ck had heard about the attack on the eleven o ’clock news

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the night before and got hold o f her by calling her carefully guarded private cell-phone number. He wanted to come over im­ mediately and bring her back to his place. She’d told him that it w asn’t necessary. That she w asn’t alone. She w as sure Jack as­ sumed Leo w as with her. But it w as only the two officers Leo had assigned to watch over her. N at had spent a tortured night praying her dog w as still alive and that she’d get her back. N at didn’t pray very often. And when she did, she didn’t honestly know who she w as praying to. But she hadn’t known w hat else to do. She still didn’t. H er clerk, Paul LaM otte, had been spending the morning fielding calls since seven that morning. The only two N at had returned so far were to her worried sister and W arren M iller, the com m issioner of corrections. She’d assured both of them that the risk to her life had been greatly exaggerated, knowing that only a lie w ould keep her sister from panicking and the commissioner from ordering a forced “ vacation ” for her. N o t ten minutes after she hung up with the commissioner, her door burst open. Hutch rushed in. “ We have a situation.” N at w as already out o f her chair and heading for the door. “ W hat?” “ Suzanne. She’s barricaded herself in her room . Says if we break in she’s gonna jum p out the window. We could call the fire departm ent— ” “ N o , let me try to talk to her first,” N at said, rushing out of the office. Jack w as just com ing into the center. She called out to him, “ Get V arda over here. N o w .” Hutch and N at continued up to Suzanne’s room. It w as the first time N at had been alone with her head CO since their con­ frontation over Father Joe. It w as not only that Hutch had been deliberately avoiding her; she hadn’t exactly m ade herself avail­

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able lately. W as he still planning on asking for a transfer? N at kept expecting— and dreading— the request to come across her desk. She didn’t want to lose Hutch. Great officers were hard to come by. G ood friends even harder. “ H ow lo n g?” she asked when they got to her floor. “ Burton and Flynn just came on their watch fifteen minutes ago. G ot the thumbs-up from the night shift that Suzanne w as still sleeping. Then they heard noise coming from her room , went to check, and couldn’t get the door to budge. They think she’s got a chair wedged under the doorknob. When they started to use muscle to get the door open, she threatened to ju m p.” Flynn, the older and burlier of the two uniforms on watch, w as standing by Suzanne’s door, nervously eyeing N at and Hutch approach. “ Burton’s gone outside. Planted himself under her window. I've been trying to talk to her, but she’s not responding,” Flynn told her. “ I don’t get why those windows aren’t barred,” he groused. “ H onor system ,” Hutch snapped. N ot that he hadn’t had plenty of m isgivings about the openness of the center. But the truth w as, except for the W alsh escape the previous year— and he’d taken off from the hospital, not the center— there’d been no incidents o f escape from H orizon H ouse. And it w asn’t as if there w as no security. While the windows weren’t barred, the place w as locked down tight at night, and there w as a very effective alarm system if som eone decided to try a getaway via a window. Suzanne, however, w as not planning a conventional escape. She w ouldn’t care if every alarm in the place went off. N at rapped lightly on the door. “ Suzanne, it’s N atalie Price. I’d like to talk to yo u .” Silence.

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“ I know you’re very upset, Suzanne. Y ou have every reason to be. Leo cam e down hard on you yesterday. But he did apol­ ogize, Suzanne. I think you know how sorry he w as. I think you also know why he acted the way he did .” N at w as aware of H utch’s eyes on her. She tried not to meet his gaze, afraid she’d em barrass herself by getting teary. “ He cares deeply about you, Suzanne. H e doesn’t w ant anything to happen to you. T h at’s why he wants you to help him nail this monster. So you’ll be safe. So you’ll have a second chance. The . . . The tw o o f you. ” Her gaze strayed to Hutch despite herself. She w as alm ost done in by the look of sympathy in his eyes. She looked away quickly. “ Suzanne, please open the door. Let me come in.” Still no response. “ We could get it open in three seconds flat,” Flynn whispered. N at shook her head. She didn’t know how close Suzanne was to the window. And she w as afraid the frantic young wom an inmate would carry out her threat to jump if they used strongarm tactics. “ By the way, I saw Jakey yesterday. D id you know he w as in a nursery-school play the other day? He played ‘Superkid.’ He w as sad that you weren’t able to be there. H e misses you, Suz­ anne.” N at sw allow ed hard, thinking how sad Suzanne would be if she knew that Jakey had never mentioned her name at all. O f course, if he knew she was his mother, it might be different. It might be different for all o f them. And for N at. She heard a faint sound filtering through the door. She pressed her ear against the wood. The sound o f crying. Suzanne was crying. N at pressed on. “Jakey wants to wear his Superkid outfit next time he comes to visit you. I know you haven’t wanted visitors

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recently, but I know you must miss your little boy, Suzanne. M aybe I could call Anna and have her bring him over sometime tod ay.” “ N o ,” she screamed. “ Keep him aw ay from here. D o you hear me? Keep him aw ay.” “ O kay, Suzanne. When you’re ready.” “ Leave me alone. I just w ant to be alone.” “ I’m not going to do that. I’m going to stay right here and wait for you to let me in.” Hutch pulled up a chair for her. “ Take a load off, N at. I think it’s gonna be a w hile.” She nodded, grateful for his kindness. M aybe they would be able to w ork things out between them. Jack came hurrying down the hall a minute after she’d sat down. “ I got a hold o f V arda. One piece o f good luck. He w as already on his way over to see Suzanne. H e’ll be here any min­ ute.”

“ Suzanne, it’ s me, Dr. V arda. Please open the d o or.” Hutch, Jack , Flynn, and N at waited with bated breath beside him. “ Suzanne? I’m w aiting.” Although the psychiatrist looked strained and exhausted, his tone w as not only firm but stern. He might have been a no-nonsense father addressing his m isbehaving daughter. There w as no response, however, from the “ daughter.” Then, just when N at w as certain V arda w ould have no better luck than she’d had, she detected a scraping sound from the other side of the door. Like a chair being dragged across the floor.

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V arda put his hand on the doorknob, turned it, and the door opened easily. “ Give us a few m inutes,” he said to N at. “ After I make sure she’s ok ay ,” she insisted. He nodded and she followed him into the room. Suzanne w as standing by the window. She w as still in her pajam as, her hair even more snarled than yesterday, her eyes bloodshot, her face tear-streaked. She w as staring out into the street. N at felt a flash of panic. Could Suzanne get that window open and jum p out before either N at or V arda could stop her? But Suzanne stepped aw ay and w alked over to the bed closest to the window. Lynn’s bed. It w as unmade. H ad Suzanne begun to sleep in her hospitalized room m ate’s bed? Surely there must be some psychological significance to such an act. V arda w alked over and sat down beside Suzanne. “ Bad night?” he asked gently. She clutched herself, nodding. “ D id you take your Z oloft before you went to bed?” “ N o ,” she muttered. “ It m akes me have bad dream s.” “ D id you have bad dream s anyw ay?” “ Y es.” “ W hat did you dream ab o u t?” N at asked. V arda gave her an angry look. She w as stepping on his toes here. “ Father Joe. I . . . I dream t about Father Jo e .” Suzanne folded over at the w aist and began rocking. “ We were in hell . . . to­ gether. It w as so awful. But then I woke up and . . . and I’m still in hell. I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t. I can’t. I just want it all to stop. Please, please . . . just make it stop .” H er rocking had accelerated and her head w as practically touching her knees.

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“ Getting all worked up like this isn’t helping you, Suzanne.” M at w as taken aback by the sharpness in V ard a’s tone, but Suzanne did abruptly stop rocking and straightened up, so what did she know? “ G o o d ,” V arda said, more gently now. “ H ave you eaten any breakfast?” Suzanne shook her head. “ I’m not hungry. I can’t eat.” “ Yes, you can .” He looked over at N at. “ D o you think you might have one of the officers bring in something for Suzanne to eat? M aybe some orange juice,, coffee, a m uffin.” N a t’s eyes strayed to the open window. V arda follow ed her gaze, rose from the bed, walked over to the window, and shut it firmly.

“ You don’t look like you’ve been sleeping well, either,” N at said when Dr. V arda joined her in her office a short while later. “ I can say the same for you. Is it true that someone tried to gun you down last night?” “ Yes, it’s true.” “ And your dog was kidnapped?” N at didn’t trust herself to speak. Ju st thinking about H annah might reduce her to tears again. “ Detective Coscarelli phoned me last night,” V arda said. “ He told me he w as stationing an unmarked police car outside my building, and that if I heard or saw anything that was alarming I should turn on my bedroom light and the officers would make a beeline up to my apartment. He didn’t tell me what had hap­ pened to you— I didn’t hear until this morning on the radio— but I suspected something must have occurred for the police to

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step up security.” He stared off into space, looking more bewil­ dered than afraid. “ Where will it end?” “ H ow ’s Suzanne?” “ She’s a bit calmer now that we’ve talked.” “W hat did you m ake of her dream ?” “ About the priest?” H e sighed. “ M aybe I shouldn’t have pressed her so hard to tell you about him. Her guilt is weighing heavily on her. Especially since she learned about that nurse’s m urder.” “ Someone has come forw ard with an alibi for Father Jo e dur­ ing the time o f Lynn’s attack. It seems pretty airtight.” V arda looked deeply troubled by this information. “ I don’t even know if it w as a man, R o ss.” He frowned. “ A w om an ?” “ Com e on, Ross. Lynn had to have talked to you about Carol Bell,” she said impatiently. “ I think she told you Carol found out about her affair with H arrison. I think she told you she was afraid o f Carol. I think she also told Suzanne. And that Suzanne probably told you as w ell.” V ard a’s face reddened. “ You think the Bells are all that confident that you w on’t break your vow of confidentiality?” “ Y ou think they’re both involved?” N at told him precisely what she thought. H e didn’t look particularly shocked. And N at w as not at all surprised about that. If anything, it confirmed her theory about the doctor and his wife. “ And if I broke confidentiality and confirmed that w hat you say is true . . . ?” V arda countered defensively. “ Fm not a police officer or a lawyer, but I do know that my corroboration would prove absolutely nothing. So Lynn w as afraid of C arol Bell. So

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what? Does that prove the w om an lay in wait for Lynn in that alleyway? viciously cut her up? D oes it prove her husband wit­ nessed the attack and is abetting his wife? Does it connect Carol Bell with any o f the crimes that followed Lynn’s assault? N o ,” he said angrily. “ The only thing it does is put me in even more danger. And frankly, Superintendent, I’m already at my lim it.” N at had only to look at the haggard psychiatrist to believe him on that point. “ That leaves us Suzanne and Lynn,” she said. “ We need one or both o f them to provide an eyewitness account.” “ Suzanne says she w as grabbed from behind. That she never saw him. O r her.” “ W hat if she’s lying? W hat if Suzanne did see the person who overtook her in the storeroom of the boutique?” “ W hat m akes you think th at?” “ It’s the only explanation for why she’s so afraid .” “ If that’s true, she would have told m e,” V arda said. Which was precisely w hat N at had hoped. So much for that wish. “ M aybe n ot,” N at said, having to rethink her theory. “ M aybe Suzanne didn’t want to put you at risk. M aybe she w as warned that you’d be harmed if she told yo u .” A line of sweat broke out across V arda’s brow. “ H arm ed? You mean . . . killed.” A heavy silence hung in the air. “ I think you should encourage Suzanne to come forw ard, Ross. And I also think you should reconsider hypnotizing Lynn,” N at said finally. “ Let’s say I do hypnotize Lynn and she does name her assail­ ant. H ow can you be sure the police will be able to move quickly enough? H ave you calculated the risks— to all of u s?”

twenty-eight I think, in the end, I ’ll destroy this journal. I started it because I thought it would help to put it all down, but it’s too painful. Too much like reliving it. I f only I could block it all out. L. I.

DR. V A R D A W AS

late. After his initial reluctance yesterday, a reluc­

tance understandably born of fear for his own well-being, he’d agreed to meet with Lynn that morning and explore the idea of hypnosis with her. H e’d explained he would need her full com ­ pliance; otherwise there w as no hope of putting her under. And he w as not sure if she w as ready for this emotionally charged step. Leo w as there as well. If Lynn agreed to be hypnotized, the psychiatrist would proceed without delay. They were all feeling the pressure of time slipping by. N ot to mention that everyone’s nerves were frayed, especially Suzanne’s. Although she’d settled

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down som ewhat after her session with Dr. V arda the previous morning, she’d spent much of the rest of the day pacing in her room or sm oking out on the front porch. O f course, every time she stepped out of the building, the two officers assigned to her also stood outside on guard. T alk about frayed nerves— theirs were plenty ragged. So were N a t’s. And they were getting more ragged with each passing minute. Leo poured him self a refill of coffee as they waited in the doctors’ lounge up in ICU. “ You sure Varda said nine

a .m

.? ”

N at checked her watch. It w as nine thirty-five. V arda told her he planned to come there straight from home and then go on to Grafton for an eleven

a .m

.

therapy group he w as running.

Where the hell w as he? O f all people, you’d expect psychia­ trists to be punctual. Shortly after nine, Leo got in touch with the two officers posted in an unm arked car outside V ard a’s building. They had not yet seen V arda exit. O kay, so he w as running a bit late. But now N at w as starting to feel increasingly uneasy. “ M aybe he had some kind of emergency,” she said. “ He men­ tioned som ething about his sister being sick. I don’t know how serious it is, but she could have been rushed to the hospital.” “ Let’s see if he left.” Leo phoned the officers on duty again. “ Phil. D o me a favor. T ake Lenny and run up to V arda’s apartm ent. Check if he’s there.” H e hesitated briefly before add­ ing, “ And if he is, that he’s in one piece.”

The first thing N at saw when she follow ed Leo into Dr. V arda’s apartm ent was the red stain on the psychiatrist’s beige carpet. There were a few splatters o f red, as well, on the khaki sofa just

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above the carpet. Bile rose up in her throat, burning its way back down as she sw allow ed hard. Mitchell O ates and another plainclothes detective stepped out from the bedroom. Behind N at and Leo, two Boston crime-scene investigators entered the front door. “ W hat have we g o t?” Leo addressed the question to Oates, who w as walking over to the crime-scene pair. “ It’s w hat we don ’t got that’s the problem ,” O ates answered dryly. “ We don’t got the shrink.” “ Isn’t that a good thing?” N at said. “ It means Dr. V arda might very well still be alive.” O ates shrugged. “ M aybe.” Leo pointed tow ard the bedroom. “ Anything in there?” “ Bed’s unmade. L ooks like the shrink slept there last night. A lone,” O ates added. “ N o sign o f any struggle.” He looked over at the red stain on the carpet. “ N o blood’s turned up anywhere else in the apartm ent from what I’ve seen.” “ Front door w as unlocked?” O ates nodded. “ N o sign o f any tampering. I’d say the doctor let whoever it w as in. There’s half a pot of coffee in the kitchen. Still warm . Tim er w as set for seven

a .m

. T

wo

m ugs in the drain

board. I got them bagged and tagged, but I don’t think w e’ll get much from them. Unfortunately, our shrink is very tidy. W ashed the m ugs rather than stuck ’em in the dishw asher.” “ S o ,” Leo said, “ som ebody shows up sometime this morning. V arda lets him or her in, they have coffee, sit around, shoot the breeze, then something happens. N ow we’ve got bloodstains and a missing shrink.” “ W hat about the two officers posted outside?” N at asked. “ They never saw V arda exit.” “ There’s a service entrance. Locked from the outside so my

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men didn’t worry about someone getting into the building that way. ” A uniform came into the apartm ent and m ade a beeline for Oates. “ The neighbor across the hall says she saw a w om an ringing Dr. V ard a’s doorbell sometime around eight-thirty this morning. N eighbor’s name is Gloria W eber.”

“ M rs. Weber, I wonder if we could nail down the description of this w om an at the doctor’s d o o r,” Leo said. M rs. W eber looked very put-out by the intrusion. “ I’ve al­ ready done the best I could. H er back w as to me. And 1 only glanced out my peephole. It couldn’t have been more than a sec­ ond or two. I had no idea I w as looking at a . . . a crim inal.” “ We don’t know that it w as a criminal, M rs. W eber,” Leo cautioned. “ Really, this is very upsetting.” “ I wonder if you’d like a cup o f tea, M rs. W eber?” N at asked. The wom an smiled at her. “ N ow , how did you know I was a tea drinker and not a coffee drinker?” N at pointed to the collection o f teapots in her china cabinet. “ Very observant, my dear. And thank you for your offer, but I only have one cup in the m orning.” “ You im press me as being very observant as well, M rs. We­ ber. Could you please try to describe the w om an again ?” “ Well, let me see. She w as a blonde. I did say that, didn’t I? And I believe her hair w as long. A rather tall woman. N o t fat. N o , I w ouldn’t say fat. B ig.” “ W hat w as she w earing?” “ A coat. A plain black coat. Oh, yes, and sneakers. They were

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black, too. But I’m pretty sure they were sneakers. I don’t know w hat else I can tell you.”

“ Please,” she pleaded. “ Keep your voices down. M y little girl is home sick .” “ Is she upstairs in her room coloring?” Carol Bell gave N at an edgy look. “We have an eyewitness that places you at Dr. R oss V arda’s apartm ent this morning at approxim ately eight-thirty,” Leo said. “ N o , that can’t be. I . . . I w asn ’t there.” “ But you know who Dr. V arda is.” She blanched. “ H arrison’s mentioned him. I . . . I know he’s Lynn’s psychiatrist.” “ Y ou ’d better call a baby-sitter to come over, M rs. Bell,” Leo said grimly. “ I’m bringing you to the precinct to participate in a lineup.” C arol Bell swayed. N at grabbed hold of her as she tried to steady herself. “ Oh, G od, I never should have gone there. It’s true. B u t . . . But he phoned me at seven o ’clock this morning. He . . . H e told me he had im portant inform ation that would clear me and H arrison. He asked me to meet him at his apart­ ment. I w as supposed to be there by eight, but I explained I had to get the children off to school, and he said I should get there as soon as I could.” She looked wanly from N at to Leo. “ But I w as too late. He w as already gone.” “ H ow do you know th at?” Leo asked. “ He never came to the d o o r.” “ Curious, that you haven’t even asked us why we are ques­ tioning you about this visit,” Leo said.

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“ I, I . . . assum ed something m ust have . . . happened to him ,” she answered starkly. “ Is he . . . dead ?” “ I think you know the answer to that better than I d o .” “ N o. I sw ear, I have no idea.” “W hat about my d o g ?” She gave N at a blank look, but then her expression darkened. “ I want to call my lawyer. I’m not saying another w ord until she gets here.” “ D on ’t bother. W e’re leaving. But you can tell her that chances are damn good you’ll be needing her services real so on .”

Leo and N at stopped for lunch in Brookline, and they were just about to give their order to the w aitress when his cell phone rang. Even from across the booth N a t could hear a w om an crying hysterically on the other end o f the line. “ M om , M o m ,” Leo pleaded. “ Calm down. I can’t understand w hat you’re saying. ” N at couldn’t m ake out Anna Coscarelli’s w ords, but she had only to look at L eo’s expression to know something terrible had happened.

twenty-nine I keep praying Jakey just wandered o f f . . . that he wasn’t taken. But I guess when your daddy’s a homicide detective there’s always a risk. C P layD a ys Sc h o o l

LEO WAS TEARING

in d y

t e a c h e r , in a

TV

Sh a effer, in t e r v ie w

ass down Beacon Street, his foot flat on the ac­

celerator. N at blinked rapidly, trying to take this in. “ Someone at the school m ust have seen where he went. W ho . . . Who he went with. They don’t just let children wander off. Or turn them over to perfect strangers. They don’t— ” Leo w asn ’t listening. N at stopped talking. As upset as she was, she could only imagine w hat m ust be going through L eo’s head. H is child w as missing. First her dog, then V arda, now Jakey. It w as crazy. Insane.

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But then, whoever w as behind all this m adness very likely was insane. There were three Boston blue-and-whites parked in front of PlayDays N ursery School when Leo screeched to a shuddering stop. He bolted out the driver’s-side door, not even bothering to shut off the engine. N at turned the key, pocketed it, then hesi­ tated as she reached for her door handle. She w as worried that she’d only be in the way. She worried more that Leo w ould rather she w asn’t there. She w as no relation to him, to Jakey. She w as an outsider. If anyone should be there, it w as Suzanne. Jak ey ’s mother. N a t’s chest constricted. Suzanne. H ow would she take the news of her son’s disappearance? If she w as already feeling bur­ dened with guilt, finding out about Jakey could prove her break­ ing point. N o sooner did N at think that Suzanne mustn’t find out, than two more-potent thoughts hit her like a sledgehammer: Suzanne had to know w ho’d taken Jakey. And Leo knew that Suzanne knew.

Anna Coscarelli w as inconsolable. The physician used by the nursery school and called to the scene shortly after Anna’s arrival obtained L eo’s perm ission and gave L eo’s mother a shot of V al­ ium. One of the teachers offered to drive her home and stay with her for as long as necessary. The teacher looked like she could use a tranquilizer herself. Everyone at the school did. Leo most of all. H e w as laying into the teary-eyed and badly shaken young

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teacher w ho’d been on duty outside with the children when Jakey had disappeared. Leo was right in her face: “ ‘Vanished out of thin air’ ? N o ­ body vanishes out o f thin air. Some fuck came and took my kid. And you were— what, daydream ing about your fucking boy­ friend or w hat the fuck you were gonna cook for dinner?— ” Cindy Shaeffer put her hands up to her face and broke down in sobs. “ One minute . . . he w as . . . right there . . . and the next . . . minute he w as . . . gone. I w as ju s t . . . having a w ord . . . with one o f . . . the parents. And then . . . your mother . . . came and I . . . looked around . . . I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Her w ords, stilted and muffled, were etched in despair. A plainclothes cop w alked over to Leo. Put a hand lightly on his shoulder. Leo jerked away, glared at him. “ Detective Coscarelli, please. Y ou ’re upset— ” “ Y ou bet the fuck I’m upset. M y kid is gone. And som ebody at this fucking school is going to come up with some answers, or I sw ear I’m going to fucking— ” H e stopped abruptly, a wrenching m oan escaping from his lips, as if the impotence of his fury had finally taken hold of him. He turned aw ay, caught N a t’s eye for the briefest of moments as she stood by the classroom door, then strode briskly across the room , going right by her and heading out of the building. A man on a mission. And N at w as pretty sure she knew exactly what that m ission was. “ L eo ,” she called out, rushing to catch up with him. “ This isn’t some dum b-assed dog now. This is my k id ,” he snarled. N at had never seen Leo this ugly. But then, how ugly would she be if it were her child w ho’d disappeared?

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Before anyone— N at, Jack , Hutch, even the two cops in the hall— could stop him, Leo storm ed into Suzanne’s room and slamm ed the door behind him. N at tried to open it, but the door w ouldn’t budge. She w as guessing Leo probably wedged the same chair under the knob as Suzanne had yesterday. The four men beside N at all offered to break the door down. Any one of them, no doubt, could have m anaged the task on his own. But she rejected their offer. It w as too late now to stop Leo, and it would only cause a futile confrontation. At this point N at could only hope that Suzanne would quickly tell Leo what he wanted to know. Then all N at could do w as pray that the cops could get to the bastard before Jakey w as harmed. If he hadn’t been harmed already. Or worse. N at didn’t have to be in the room to hear Leo and Suzanne. Their voices, especially L eo’s, could be heard clearly out in the hall. There were only a couple of other female inmates on the floor at that hour— a recent transfer w ho’d not yet started her w ork assignment and one resident home with the flu. They’d both come out of their room s during the com m otion, and N at dis­ banded Jack and Hutch to escort the pair down to the visiting room . She told the two cops to go have a smoke. They reluctantly shuffled off. N at stayed put, listening— “ N o, no. It can’t be true.” Suzanne w as crying. “ D o I look like I’m fucking lying,” Leo roared. “ It’s all my fault. But they w on’t hurt him, Leo. They w on’t .” “ ‘They’ ? W ho are we talking about? The Bells? Is that who— ?” “ D on ’t. Oh, G od, I’ve been terrified of this happening the

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whole time. D on ’t you see, Leo? T h at’s why they took him. To stop me from talking. If I talk they’ll kill him, Leo. D on’t you get it? I hold our son’s life in my hands. If you ever hope to see him alive again, yo u ’ll stop trying to make me tell you.” “ So what do we do, Suzanne?” L eo’s voice had gone from fury to anguish. “ They— whoever the fuck ‘they’ are— are black­ mailing you into keeping silent by holding our son. So how do I get him b ack?” “ D am n you, L eo ,” Suzanne screamed. “ Y ou should have let me get that abortion! Y ou shouldn’t have ever let Jakey be born. I knew it would only lead to heartache. I knew even then— ”

“Where is he?” O ates asked as N at slid into a booth across from him in a coffee shop near the precinct house. It w as nearly three o ’clock in the afternoon. “ Leo storm ed out of the center after his fruitless confrontation with Suzanne, got into his car, and drove off like a bat out of hell.” “ H e didn’t go to the Bells’ house. I have an unmarked car over there. N o sign of him .” “ As wildly upset as he is, he’s not going to risk Jakey getting hurt by barreling in there. I think he went back to the nursery school.” “ R om ero’s not gonna be happy to see him ,” O ates said. “ R om ero?” “ The detective assigned to the kidnapping.” “ He can’t blame Leo for wanting to be in on the investiga­ tion .” “ We don’t even know that the boy’s still alive, N atalie.” N at winced at the thought, then attacked it. “ N o , they know

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that as long as Suzanne can be assured Jak ey ’s alive, she’ll keep her m outh shut. It’s their only hold over her. She w as meant to die from that OD. When that failed, it w as too hard to get at her. So they used Jakey as a threat, som ehow got a m essage to her that they’d harm him if she talked. But they must have w or­ ried she w as close to the breaking point, and so they took it to the next step.” She looked wanly across at L eo’s partner. “ I’ve got to believe Jak ey ’s ok ay .” O ates leaned forw ard, reached a hand across the table, and rested it over hers. N at w as taken aback by his solicitous touch and the even more solicitous expression on his face.

N at w as just pulling out from the curb in front of the coffee shop when she heard a loud thump on her trunk. She slam m ed down on her brakes and the next thing she knew, O ates w as yanking open her passenger-side door. “ The Bells’ house in New ton. Let’s g o .” A flood of possibilities rushed through her mind, but they were all so potentially awful, N at couldn’t bring herself to voice them aloud. When they got to the Bells’ house, they saw Leo’s car. It was half on the Bells’ m anicured lawn, his car door open. So w as the door to the house. N a t’s heart w as in her throat. H ad they found Jakey? W as he alive? O ates and N at were just dashing out of her car when two uniforms emerged from the house with a raging man, arms pinned behind his back, wrists cuffed. They were heading for the cruiser.

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N a t froze in place. The man being dragged from the house w as Leo. O ates yanked out his ID, waving at the cops as he rushed over to his partner. Leo w as acting like a m adm an. The cops were doing their best not to roughhouse him as they tried to get him into the back of the cruiser. They must have known they were dealing with a police officer because one o f them called him “ D e­ tective.” “Jak ey ’s jacket,” Leo gasped hoarsely. “ It w as in her car. They’ve got him, man. They’ve got my boy. I’ll kill them. I’ll fucking kill them— ” “ I’m on it, Leo. I’ll find him ,” O ates said fiercely. An unm arked car pulled up to a screeching stop just as the uniform s m anaged to get Leo into the cruiser. The plainclothes detective N at recognized from Jak ey ’s nurs­ ery school, and whom she presum ed w as Detective Rom ero, got out of the car. H e held up a hand to stop the cruiser from taking off. O ates and the detective had a brief pow w ow , then the de­ tective opened the back door of the cruiser and slipped in beside Leo. H e w as in there for a couple of minutes. When he got out, the cruiser took off. N at rushed over to Oates. “ They’re not going to arrest Leo, M itch. They can’t .” “ T ake it easy, N a t,” O ates said. “ Leo needs a little cool-down tim e.” The detective, Eric Rom ero, approached them. “ Leo w as at the school when one of the parents who w as picking up her kid told us she saw a red Subaru O utback racing past the school. She noticed it because she w as upset the driver w as speeding in a school zone. The instant Leo heard the m ake of the car, he w as off and running.”

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“ Who could blame him ?” she said hotly. “ N o t me, believe me. But he shoulda let me go. H e w as in no condition— and I’m still not saying I blame him, because I don’t— but still, he should have left it to cooler minds. Instead he went on a raving ram page, tore up half the house, roughed up C arol Bell— ” “ She’s lucky he didn’t kill her,” N at said fiercely. “ N o , N a t,” O ates said pointedly. “ L e o ’s lucky.”

Helen K atz entered the interrogation room where Carol Bell sat near the point of em otional collapse. Across from her w as M itch­ ell O ates and Eric Rom ero. N a t found herself once again sitting in a room next door, watching through a one-way mirror. K atz rushed over to C arol, gasped audibly when she saw her bruised cheek. She glared across at O ates, but he raised his hands in a gesture that said, N o t my doing. Once K atz found out it w as Leo, N a t w as sure she was going to push for Carol Bell to press charges against him. Right now, though, the criminal lawyer had other, more pressing concerns to attend to. H er two clients— H arrison Bell w as in an interro­ gation room across the hall— were about to be charged with the kidnapping o f four-year-old Jacob Coscarelli. C arol grasped the lawyer’s sleeve like it w as her lifeline. And it might well have been. “ I keep telling them, I don’t know how that jacket got in the car. I never saw it before in my life. Anyone could have put it there. I’m always forgetting to lock the car. H arrison ’s forever scolding me— ” “ You shouldn’t have said anything until I got here.” “ W hat about H arrison? C an he explain— ?” C arol asked.

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“ M y partner C raig Paulson is with H arrison. Let’s focus on you n ow ,” K atz said, sliding into a chair beside her client. O ates leaned forw ard. “ Give us a blow-by-blow accounting o f your day so far, M rs. Bell.” C arol glanced anxiously at Katz. K atz nodded. “ I already told Detective Coscarelli about going to Dr. V ard a’s apartm ent at eight-thirty. And that he w asn’t home. Or, at least, didn’t answer my ring or knock. Then I went hom e.” “ D id you tell your husband you were going to see V ard a ?” She hesitated. “ N o. I thought he might not want me to g o .” “W hy?” “ I don’t know. I got the feeling he didn’t like the psychiatrist.” Yeah, N at thought, I bet he didn’t. “ I drove back home and caught up on some chores. M y housekeeper w as there. She can tell yo u ,” Carol said. “ She w as there the whole m orning?” O ates asked. “ N o t . . . every moment. She did a few errands. Picked up H arrison’s suits at the cleaners, stopped at the bakery, and got a cake for . . . for dinner tonight.” She looked anxiously at the law ­ yer. “ The children are going to be so frantic. M y sister went over there to be with them, but what is she going to say to them ?” Katz put a calming hand on her client’s shoulder. “ L et’s talk about where you were from eleven forty-five to twelve-thirty,” O ates said, without a scintilla o f sympathy in his voice. N at w as actually am azed he was able to hold on to his temper. He w as, after all, sitting across from a w om an who very likely had kidnapped his partner’s son. H is paitner who w as, at that moment, being forced to cool his jets in an unused interro­ gation room down the hall, with two officers there to m ake sure he stayed put. Anyone else w ould have done their cooling off in a jail cell.

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“ D idn’t you go pick up D aphn e?” Katz coached. C arol Bell blanched. “ N o. I picked her up early from nursery school because she had a tummy-ache. But she felt better later in the m orning, so I let her play with her friend next door. I w as just about to go over to get her when . . . when that detective nearly broke my door down and threw me to the floor and started storm ing through all the room s of my house, knocking things over, pulling clothes out of closets . . . I thought he w as crazy. I w as never so frightened in my life. He kept screaming— ‘Jakey, Jak ey !’ And he had that . . . that jacket clutched to his chest. 1 didn’t know it w as in my car. I don’t know how it got there. 1 would never hurt a child. I’m a mother. I’m a m other.” She broke into wrenching sobs.

“ You fucking w h at}” Whatever cooling off Leo might have m anaged since they’d arrived at the precinct house w as gone the instant he heard that O ates had had to let the Bells go. The two officers in the room with them were about to grab Leo before he started using his fists as well as his vocal cords, but O ates vetoed the move with a shake of the head. He tried to encourage Leo to get a grip, but Leo w as w ay past that. N at, w ho’d gotten to the precinct house shortly after L eo’d been brought in, w as nearly as beside herself as Leo was. She didn’t give a dam n that the district attorney said there was no case yet, that there w as not enough evidence even to charge them. W hat about Jak ey ’s jacket? W hat was that if not evidence? N at didn’t want to hear that “ anyone” could have dropped

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that jacket into C arol Bell’s red Subaru O utback. Tell her who that “ anyone” could be. Tell her that. Leo shoved his partner roughly aside and stormed across the room , yanking open the door. “ H old on, Leo. Y ou ’re not going anywhere. N o t the way you’re feeling right n ow ,” Rom ero said. “ Try and stop m e,” Leo snarled. “ Leave it, m an ,” O ates said to Rom ero. “ I’ll keep him under w rap s.” “ Sorry. I don’t think anyone’s gonna manage th at,” Rom ero said. H eaving a sigh, Rom ero reluctantly gave the nod to the two officers who rushed after Leo. They literally had to battle him to the floor in the hallway. It took a third officer pitching in before they m anaged to subdue him, Leo kicking and cursing a blue streak the whole time. O ates, looking grim but resigned, and N at, her expression pure anguish, watched silently from the doorway.

“ I don’t know, N a t,” O ates said, sounding less than enthusiastic about N a t’s proposal. “ You have a better id ea?” she challenged. “ Give me a little time and m aybe— ” “ We don’t have time, M itch,” N at said. H e knew that as well as she did. “W hat m akes you think it’ll w o rk ?” “ She’s the last link. The m ost crucial one, at th at.” “ She has been this w'hole tim e.” “ But no one could get to her. And the pressure to figure out some w ay to m anage it w asn ’t a priority as long as she couldn’t remember. ”

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“ W hat if we bring the Bells in? M aybe if Lynn looks them square in the face— ” “ T o o big a m aybe,” she argued. “ M ore time w asted.” “ And Suzanne H olden ?” “ Y ou think she’s going to talk knowing they mean to kill Jakey if she does? Com e on, M itch. And she knows they’re not bluffing. L ook at w hat happened to Lynn. T o Claire Fisher. T o Suzanne herself. This pair is deadly. And dam n lucky so far. There’s never enough evidence— ” “ I’m still worried. A lot of things could go wrong. Y ou could get hurt, N at. I think about Leo and everything he’s going through. If, on top o f all that, something happens to you, L eo’s never gonna get over it. And he’s gonna blame me. With good reaso n .” “ I’m thinking about Leo, too, M itch. T h at’s why I have to do this.”

“ Is this Bill W alker?” “ Yes. W hat can I do for y o u ?” “ It’s w hat I can do for you, M r. W alker.” “ D o I know y o u ?” “ We never met. But I listen to your news show on W BBS all the time. I’m a big fa n .” “ Yeah, never can have too many of those. M ind telling me who I’m talking to ?” “ It’s not im portant. H ere’s the scoop, Bill. Lynn Ingram , the w om an who w as attacked— ” “ The transsexual. Yeah, what about her?” “ She just got m oved out o f IC U .” “ T h at’s nice to hear. But not exactly breaking new s.”

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“ T h at’s because I haven’t told you the best part yet: H er mem ­ ory’s coming back, Bill. Lynn’s beginning to remember the at­ tack. Some of it’s still a little cloudy. A specialist in hypnosis has been consulted. H e’s confident that under hypnosis she’ll be able to identify her attacker. H e’s being brought in first thing tom or­ row .” “ Well, that’s m ore like it. Ju st one question for you: Why are you leaking the story?” “ Sinners have to pay for their sins, Bill.” “ Are we talking about the attacker or the transsexual here?” Sharon Johnson dropped the phone into the cradle. “ O k ay ?” N at gave a thumbs-up sign. “ Perfect.” “ Well, I’m still not one bit happy about this p lan .” Sharon shot a dark-eyed look over at Mitchell O ates, who w as standing by the closed office door. “ D o I look h appy?” he groused.

When O ates w alked into the private room assigned to Lynn In­ gram on the eleventh floor of Boston General, Carrie Li slipped quietly out. The nurse had willingly put her job on the line for them. She said it w asn’t solely because she felt she owed N at her life, but because she wanted Lynn’s attacker caught as much as they did. So she got N at into this vacant room on a floor where she w as close friends with the head nurse, and bandaged her up. O ates w as putting his job on the line, too, by informing the nurses on the floor that that this w as a police-sanctioned m aneu­ ver. On his unsanctioned orders, Lynn Ingram had been listed on the hospital roster as being in room 1143. “ Well, it m ade the six o ’clock new s,” he said, after giving N at a rueful once-over.

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“ G reat.” “ Y eah,” O ates said glumly. “ W hat w asn’t great w as watching photos of Jakey Coscarelli being flashed on the screen. Or a clip o f L eo’s m om sobbing hysterically as she w as led into her build­ ing.” “ Poor Anna. She m ust be going out o f her mind. I hope she’s not all alon e.” “ T hat's one piece of good news. We moved Leo out of jail and put him under house arrest. H e’s home with his m om , along with two uniforms to m ake sure he stays p u t.” N at sat up in the hospital bed. N o t an easy effort, considering she w as mummy-wrapped in bandages. Which would be uncom­ fortable enough, but O ates had insisted on her wearing a Kevlar vest beneath the bandages. He w asn’t taking any chances. N ot that N at wanted to take any chances herself. Which w as why she’d also been wired. “ It’s going to w ork, M itch. Lynn’s got to be silenced at all costs now, because her identification will be the nail in the Bells’ coffins. And once they know it’s over, they’ll tell us where they’ve got Ja k ey .” N ot to mention R oss V arda and her beloved Hannah. “ We still don’t know for certain it is the Bells,” O ates said. “ Y ou know, N at, someone could be setting them up. The real kidnapper could easily have tossed Jakey’s jacket into C arol Bell’s Subaru. W e’ve got to consider th at.” “ Y o u ’re thinking of Beth and Daniel M ilburne?” “ T h at’s one possibility.” N at reflected on her earlier emotional exchange with the coun­ cilm an’s wife. She’d found herself believing Beth about Daniel M ilburne not knowing the truth. And that threatening letter, the intimidating phone call. “ What are you thinking?” O ates asked her.

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“ I think our real perp w as trying to set the M ilburnes up. He wanted us to think the councilman knew about his wife’s first m arriage because that m ade him a perfect suspect. With Beth as an accessory.” “ There’s always Jennifer Slater’s brother, Rodney Bartlett,” O ates mused. “ Getting revenge for his sister. With her blessing.” “ Well, I guess he had motive, but I don’t know ,” N at paused, “ he doesn’t seem the type.” Something w as niggling at her, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She rubbed her eyes, practically the only part of her from her chest up that w as exposed. “ I wish I could sort it all out. So much has happened so fast. Three dis­ appearances in twenty-four hours. M y dog, V arda, then Ja k ey .” “ T h at’s because our perp, or perps, whoever they are, are getting increasingly more panicked. The closer we get to nailing them, the m ore desperate they’re becoming. So now they’re rac­ ing around trying to cover their tracks. They took your dog to lure you down to the garage and use you for target practice. V arda w as a liability right from the start. And Suzanne w as reaching her breaking point. They couldn’t get to her so they got to her k id .” N at nodded. Everything O ates w as saying m ade sense. All the pieces of the puzzle fit, and yet the picture as a whole somehow didn’t look quite right. “ N at, you sure you want to go through with this? We can put an undercover cop— ” “ Y ou can’t use one of your people. This isn’t even sanctioned, M itch.” “ So, we lay the plan out to my chief and have him— ” “ And if your chief says no? If he vetoes the plan altogether?” O ates sighed. H e knew she w as right, even if he w as still very uneasy.

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He eyeballed her. “ Y ou scared?” “ N o .” “ Liar. I’ll be ten feet aw ay, girl. Right behind that bathroom door. Y o u ’re gonna do fine.” “ You too, M itch .”

thirty There is nowhere to turn, no one to turn to. My ability to trust, never my strongest suit, has now deserted me completely. In an odd way, this is a relief. L. I.

NAT HAD ALM OST

forgotten about her cell phone until its jarring ring

reminded her it w as still on in her tote bag, which she’d stashed in the drawer of the bedside table. She quickly jerked open the drawer and nervously retrieved the phone. O ates had the bath­ room door open, anxiously watching to see who it was. N at w as hoping it w asn’t Leo. She w asn’t the w orld’s best liar. “ N at. It’s Hutch. Where are y o u ?” “ I’m . . . having dinner. With a friend. Is something wrong? Something happen at the center?” “ N o. Listen, I need to get hold o f Coscarelli. I keep calling his precinct and they keep telling me he’s unavailable.”

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“ Why do you need to reach him ?” “ I just got back from seeing M elissa Raym ond, Father Jo e ’s housekeeper.” “ If it’s about som eone being with Father Jo e the day of Lynn’s— ” “ It’s n ot.” “ W hat, then?” “ It’s M elissa’s daughter. Em ily.” “ W hat about her?” “ M elissa says Emily saw someone leaving the rectory in the middle of the night a few hours before Father Jo e w as found . . . dead .” “ W hat? W ho? In the middle of the night? A five-year-old?” “ L ook, I don’t know all the details, N at. T h at’s why I wanted to get ahold o f Coscarelli. I have a feeling you’ll have an easier time than me getting through to him. M aybe it’s nothing, a k id’s bad dream , the shadow of a tree mistaken for a person, I don’t know what, but maybe Coscarelli can get som ebody, a shrink or something, to talk to the kid, get to the bottom o f it.” It didn’t sink in at first, the implication of H utch’s words. M aybe because N at w as still grappling with her sense o f guilt about having helped drive a m an— a priest— to suicide. She’d tried to rationalize her guilt by reminding herself that Father Joe w as a rapist if nothing else. But she’d never fully been able to accept this as absolute fact, despite Suzanne’s confession. N at couldn’t let go o f the possibility that Suzanne had been mistaken. And now a new, more distressing possibility intruded. W hat if Suzanne had lied? W hat if she’d intentionally misled them? But why would she lie? And if it had been a lie, why would Father Jo e commit suicide? And that w as when H utch’s w ords sank in. W hat if Father

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Jo e hadn’t killed himself? W hat if someone had set it up to make it look like a suicide? W hat if the housekeeper’s little girl had seen the killer? N at gave Hutch L eo’s cell-phone number. “ Call him right away. ”

It w as nearly midnight, and a distressing feeling of claustropho­ bia w as settling in. The bandages were only part of it. The nar­ row hospital bed, the dark room , the silence m arred only by the occasional footfalls in the hall. D octors walking past, N at im ag­ ined, since the nurses and orderlies all wore rubber-soled shoes that made no sound as they scurried about, taking care o f their patients. Well, not so much scurrying now. M ost o f the patients were asleep. N at wondered if Lynn Ingram w as asleep. She actually had been m oved out of the ICU. She w as now in a private room on the sixth floor. Listed under the name M aureen Riley. Lynn didn’t know this. There w as no reason for her to know. N at wanted to believe that once the perpetrators were caught, their capture w ould help Lynn regain her memory o f the assault. She knew from articles she’d read on PTSD and memory loss, that remembering w as a vital part o f healing the traum a. It would be a long time before Lynn w as physically healed. M aybe her em otional healing could proceed at a faster pace. N at closed her eyes. N o fear that she might fall asleep. Far too much adrenaline raced through her veins, not to mention a serious overdose of caffeine. N o , she closed her eyes in hopes of seeing things m ore clearly. Because, try as she might, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her vision had been hazy up to now. She pictured all the disparate pieces o f all the events that had taken

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place, starting with the violent attack of Lynn Ingram in the alleyway. She thought about Father Jo e, Suzanne, Claire Fisher. She thought about C arol and H arrison Bell, Rodney Bartlett and Jennifer Slater, Beth and Daniel M ilburne. She cast one pair, then the next, then the next in each of the scenes. But m ostly she thought about Jakey. She loved L eo’s little boy. She desperately wanted him to be unharmed. Oh, Jakey, where are yo u ? Suddenly, her breath caught in her throat. Jakey. Oh, G od, the m issing piece of the puzzle. The key to the solution. H ow could she have been so blind? N ow that she saw the whole pic­ ture, it all m ade absolute sense. Every piece fit. Every piece could be explained. W e ll. . . alm ost everything. N at shot up in the hospital bed. She had to tell O ates— It w as at that precise moment that the hospital room door opened. N a t dropped back down on the bed, her breath held, as a figure in a white lab coat slipped in. N at lay there, silently berating herself for not having figured it all out sooner. She might have prevented so much o f it. The attack on Suzanne, Claire Fisher’s murder, and what she now felt certain w as the faked suicide of Father Jo e Parker. So now, instead o f feeling guilty for driving him to kill himself, N a t w ould have to live with the knowledge that she might have prevented his murder. She closed her eyes, her pulse pounding in her ears. Footsteps approached, audible enough to know they were not rubber-soled. She m oaned softly to let her intruder know she w asn ’t fully asleep. “ Lynn?” “ M m m m .” “ Are you in a great deal of p ain ?” She emitted a weak groan.

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“ It didn’t have to be this way, you know .” She tensed as she picked up the scent of stale breath. The intruder w as looking down on her. “ I still love you. I’ve only loved two women in my entire life, Lynn. And do you know what hurts the m ost? N o one else, no one, sees you wholly as a wom an. N o one else but me. That alone should have m ade you realize I w as the right one, the only one. ” She m oaned again.

.

“ It’s all right, my love. I’ve come to put you out of your pain. It’s my final act o f love. Y ou’ll just feel a little prick and then peace. Eternal peace.” “ And what about you, Ross? Will you ever feel peace after all you’ve done?” R oss V ard a’s shock w as so complete, the hypodermic needle dropped from his hand. As the glaring light from the opening bathroom door fell on the psychiatrist, he thrust his white-sleeved arm across his eyes. “ It’s over, V ard a,” O ates said harshly, the barrel of his gun lined up with the psychiatrist’s head. At this range, there w as no question O ates could easily blow V arda’s head off. But O ates w ouldn’t do that. They needed V arda alive. Badly. Because they needed him to tell them where he had put Jakey. “ You were the one who asked Lynn to marry yo u ,” N at said quietly. “ When she told me about a proposal, I assum ed she w as talking about H arrison Bell. But it w as you. And she turned you down. She didn’t love you. She w as in love with Bell. You couldn’t bear it. You wanted to make her ugly, so he w ouldn’t want her. I don’t think you intended to kill her at first. It’s only that she saw you. You m ust have come up behind her and she

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had the terrible m isfortune to hear you approach and turn around to face you.” “ T hat beautiful face.” V ard a’s anguished voice w as muffled by his sleeve, his arm still across his eyes. Then he slowly dropped his arm to his side, meeting N a t’s gaze. “ Y ou weren’t surprised.” “ It w as Ja k ey ,” N at said. “ Y ou were the only one who knew that Jakey w as Suzanne’s child. The only one who knew that if her child w as taken, she’d keep quiet about the truth. And once I realized it w asn’t the Bells, I remembered that you were in the office with me when Claire Fisher called about the journal. I stupidly told you— ” N a t’s voice caught. She fought for control. “ And you were the one who forced Suzanne to lie about the priest. We have an eyewitness, R oss, who saw you in the rectory the night Father Jo e supposedly hanged him self.” There w as absolutely no sign o f remorse or shame on the psychiatrist’s face. If anything, he seemed mildly impressed by N a t’s analysis. “ W here’s the boy, V arda? Where’s Jaco b C oscarelli?” O ates barked impatiently. V arda’s gaze remained fixed on N at. “ I love her. Y ou have to understand, I love her. Even now. N o matter how she looks. T h at’s the difference. I love her inner beauty.” N at shivered. H e w as m ad— Dr. R oss V arda w as truly mad. Physician, heal thyself. But, o f course, he w as long past that o p ­ tion. O ates glared at the psychiatrist in utter disgust. “ Y o u ’re going down, man. At least do one decent thing: Tell us where the boy is.” V arda looked uncomprehending. H is unfocused eyes gazed past N at an instant before he whirled aw ay from her. But in that instant N at read something in his look. And she knew. T oo late.

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T o o late even to form the cry o f N o, don ’t! into audible words. When the warning cry did let loose from her lips, it w as ac­ com panied by the hideous sound o f splintering glass. The psy­ chiatrist had crashed through the window, and before N at m anaged to scram ble out of bed, before O ates w as able to race to the shattered window, Dr. R oss V arda’s body w as careening down eleven stories—

N o question M alcolm D avis, chief of Boston Hom icide, w as in a quandary. H e was m ad as hell at O ates for, as he put it on the phone, pulling this “ crazy, not to mention illegal, not to mention dangerous” sting. On the other hand, if they hadn’t staged the sting, the man w ho’d m aimed Lynn, w ho’d very likely adm inis­ tered a near-fatal dose o f heroin to Suzanne, not to mention m ur­ dered Claire Fisher and kidnapped Jakey Coscarelli, might well never have been discovered. Then again, maybe N at would have sorted it all out in time, realized that if she eliminated all of their possible suspects, there was really only one other person who had the m eans, motive, and opportunity to commit each heinous act. And that one per­ son w as R oss V arda. He had constant access to Lynn and Suz­ anne. H e’d been with N at when she got that call from Claire Fisher. N at had told him herself that Claire had found the jou r­ nal. As for getting into her apartm ent, he’d had any number o f opportunities to swipe her house key, m ake a clay imprint, and have a key m ade for himself. V arda had obviously pressured Suzanne into lying to give the police a perfect suspect— Father Joe. Which w as another element N at had frustratingly overlooked. Who knew that Jakey C oscar­ elli w as Suzanne’s child? It w asn’t likely either o f the Bells knew;

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wholly unlikely when it came to the M ilburnes, or Bartlett and his sister. So now what? It w as two o ’clock in the morning. V ard a’s smashed body had been removed to the morgue. O ates and N at were sitting in her car out front, feeling infuriatingly impotent. And what did they tell Leo?

We’ve found your so n ’s kid­

napper. The go o d news: The kidnapper’s dead. The bad news: We still don ’t have a goddam n clue as to where he’s hidden Jakey. ” “ W ait.” N at sprang forw ard in her seat. “ Suzanne kept saying ‘they.’ She couldn’t talk because ‘they’d ’ harm Jakey. ‘They.’ M ore than one. We had all these couples as suspects— the Bells, Jennifer Slater and her brother, the M ilburnes— ” “ Yeah, but V arda didn’t have a wife. Or a brother.” N a t’s heart had started racing. “ But he does have a sister. He mentioned her to me several tim es.”

The extent to which Varda ransacked his own apartm ent was nothing com pared to the job O ates, N at, and four uniforms per­ formed. They were all looking for a clue, something, anything, that w ould point them to where V ard a’s sister lived. But they found absolutely nothing with any inform ation on her where­ abouts. N o t on scraps o f paper, letters, envelopes, address book. . . . O ates had already checked the Boston area phone book. N o V ardas. R oss V ard a’s home number m ust have been unlisted, and so, apparently, must his sister’s. O ates had called into the precinct and put a m an on the task o f checking for any unlisted numbers under the name V arda. After pitching in for a while, N at got another idea o f how they might track down V ard a’s sister, and quickly left the apart­

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ment. A short time after N at m ade her exit, O ates and his men ran out o f places to look. It w as nearly four in the morning. O ates, exhausted and despairing, dism issed the uniforms, then leaned against the living room wall, surveying the chaos. He hoped N atalie Price w as having better luck.

“ W ait here,” N at ordered the two uniforms posted outside Suz­ anne’s door. It w as four in the morning. She’d be frightened enough, having N at come into her room alone and wake her. She’d really freak if she opened her eyes to a sea o f cops as well. Suzanne w as in her own bed, the covers pulled up to her neck. N at left the door cracked open, allowing a thin ray of light from the hallway to slice into the room. “ Suzanne?” She gave the inm ate’s shoulder a little shake. “ Suzanne, it’s N atalie Price. Please w ake up. I need to talk to you. It’s very im portant.” She got no response from her. M ore alarming, no movement. N a t’s heart seized. She flung back the covers and gasped as she saw even in the faint light a pool o f blood soaking into the sheets.

“ The cuts are jagged and deep. She’s lost a lot of blood. She meant to kill herself, no question about it. She w ould have bled to death by six or seven this m orning.” The ER doc smiled at N at. “ Y ou saved her life, Superintendent.” “ C an I speak to her?” “ She’s been given a shot of Dem erol for the pain. Between the medication and the blood loss, she’s not going to be up to talking for at least a few h ours.” O ates stepped in. “ It’s very im portant.”

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“ I’m sure it is, D etective,” the young doctor said. “ But she’s truly out. It’s going to have to wait. I’m sorry.” O ates and N at w alked over to Ja c k Dwyer. Chances were N at w as not going to m ake it back to the center by the time the news of Suzanne’s suicide attempt spread, so she wanted Ja c k to be prepared. There’d been a riptide o f tension am ong the inmates since the attack on Lynn Ingram. It w as not going to get any better when they heard about Suzanne. “ W ell?” Jack asked, rising from a waiting-room chair. “ W e’re on standby,” O ates muttered. “ At least a couple of h ours.” “ And the sister?” Jack asked despairingly. “ Still heard nothing on her? She’s gotta have a phone, righ t?” “ Hey, come on. We don’t even know if her last name is V arda. She could be m arried for all the fuck we kn ow ,” O ates said. “ O r using an alias.” And then it cam e to N at: life insurance. V arda worked for the Com m onwealth. As part of the package, they got life-insurance policies— and had to list beneficiaries. O dds were V arda had m ade his sister his beneficiary. Her name would be on the policy. She looked over at Oates. “ Y ou going to w ait here?” He nodded, eyeing her warily. “ Why? W hat are you going to d o ?” “ I have an idea. I want Leo in on it, M itch. I want you to get him released from house arrest.” O ates scowled. “ The Bells haven’t pressed charges,” she reminded him, al­ though she w as still w orried they would. “ And you don’t have to worry about him going off after anyone now that V ard a’s dead. ” O ates w as frowning now. “ He might go after me, and I

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w ouldn’t blame him, when he hears how I drove V arda out that window before I got the bastard to tell us where he stashed Ja k ey .” N at put a hand on O ates’s arm. “ There’s nothing to be gained from him knowing th at.” O ates m ade no response. N at guessed he’d tell his partner what had happened. But he might w ait for a bit. “ I’ll drive you over,” Jack offered. “ N o , that’s ok ay .” Her deputy didn’t hide his disappointm ent, but he didn’t ar­ gue.

thirty-one Lynn is terrified to let herself love again, but she is slowly making strides in this area. D

IT W A S S I X

o ss

Va r d a

(t h e r a p y

n o tes)

r

. R

in the morning. N at w as back in V ard a’s apartm ent,

this time with Leo. Despite looking haggard, at least the haunted expression w as gone from his face. H e had a sense o f purpose. There w as something he could do. And at least now they knew what they were looking for: a term policy for R oss V arda issued by Federated Life Insurance Com pany. Leo took the bedroom . N at tackled the living room . Given that it w as a three-room apartm ent, the only room after these two w as the kitchen, since N at seriously doubted V arda kept im portant papers in the bath­ room . W hat worried her w as that he probably kept them in a safe-deposit box at a bank.

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It w as over an hour before she accepted that there w as no insurance policy in that room . But she did find something. A small address book tucked aw ay in a cupboard. M aybe V arda had put down his sister’s address or her phone number. N o such luck. But N at did come upon one interesting address: that of Beth and Daniel M ilburne. O f course, she realized in hind­ sight, V arda m ust have written that letter to Beth. H e knew all about Bethany from his therapy sessions with Lynn. And the phone call from the girl? N at figured it must have been V ard a’s sister, disguising her voice to sound like a child’s. N at tucked the address book into her pocket and w alked into the bedroom to check on L eo’s progress. He w as sitting on V ard a’s bed, head in his hands. N at walked over and sat down beside him. She wanted to say something. Something to ease his pain, his panic, his despair. She wanted to say something that w ould ignite his sense of hope. But anything she might say w ould sound hollow not only to Leo’s ears but to her own. “ W hat if they concocted a signal between them, N atalie? W hat if he told his sister that if she didn’t hear from him by a certain time, she should— ” “ D on ’t, Leo. D on ’t do this to yourself. Com e on. Get up. Help me take apart the kitchen. M y mother used to keep a manila envelope stuffed with receipts, insurance policies, birth certifi­ cates, in a kitchen draw er.” N at got up and dragged Leo to his feet. Then she literally led him by the hand into the kitchen. Unfortunately, every draw er in the kitchen had already been taken apart, much of the contents now scattered on the greenand-white-tiled kitchen floor. Leo looked around glumly at the

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mess. Then he slumped into a chair at the kitchen table that w as covered with a plain white vinyl tablecloth. N at sat down across from him, pulling her chair in closer so that she could reach over for his hand. H er knee hit something knobby. For a second or tw o she don’t make anything of it. And then— Leo looked at her like she’d gone m ad as she yanked off the tablecloth. “ There’s a drawer, Leo. The table has a drawer. We didn’t realize. We didn’t see it when we were all here before.” H er heart w as racing. But she tried not to get her hopes up. M aybe the drawer w as empty. M aybe it w as filled with utensils or junk mail. She w as afraid to open it. Afraid to come up empty-handed again. Leo came around to her side of the table and jerked the drawer open. Inside w as only one item. A m anila envelope. Ju st like the one N a t’s mother used to have. Her breath held as Leo uncoiled the string closure. N at could see the tremor in his hand. She doubted he w as breathing, either. There it w as. Right under V ard a’s car-insurance policy. A Fed­ erated Life Insurance C om pany term policy. Policy holder: Ross R adw ay V arda. Beneficiary: Patricia Radw ay. N a t snatched a Boston-area phone book off the counter. There w as one listing for a P. Radw ay. The address listed for P. Radw ay w as 432 St. Botolph Street, Boston. Until he’d leapt to his death in the wee hours of that morning, R oss V arda had resided at 432 St. Botolph Street.

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R oss V ard a’s apartm ent w as number 3C. Leo and N at checked the tenants’ roster outside the building’s front door. P. R adw ay’s name w as neatly printed: P. Radw ay lived in apartm ent 5B. N o wonder no one had seen R oss V arda disappear from the building yesterday m orning or the night before. H e’d never left the building. H e’d set the stage for his own supposed abduction, walked out o f his apartm ent, and merely climbed up two flights of stairs to his sister Patricia’s apartment. Leo started up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He reached reflexively for his gun, forgetting he’d given it up after the mayhem he’d caused at the Bells’. N at raced up the stairs after him, grabbed hold of his arm as they hit the third-floor landing. “ Leo, we can ’t just burst in there. W hat if she’s got a gun? D on ’t forget, Claire w as killed with a gun. I w as shot at. V arda w asn’t carrying when he showed up at the hospital. N othing on him or on the street where he crashed. And we didn’t find the gun in his apartm ent.” H e pulled his arm away. “ M y boy’s in there, N atalie.” “ And the last thing you want is for Patricia Radw ay to panic, grab up her gun, and shoot Jakey in the head.” H er choice of w ords w as purposefully brutal, in an effort to penetrate his rage and urgency. Otherwise she doubted she’d get through to him. As it w as, it didn’t seem to work. He whipped around and tore up the stairs, N at trailing breathlessly behind. G asping for air, N at cleared the fifth-floor landing and saw that Leo had come to a halt. But he looked prepared for his final charge as N at ran up to him. “ Please, L e o ,” she pleaded breathlessly. “ Let me go to her door. A w om an is less likely to alarm her than a man. I’ll say

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I’m a new neighbor. I’ll make sure there isn’t a gun in sight. If the coast is clear, I’ll cough. And then you can— ” “ And if she opens the door with a gun in her han d?” “ I’ll think of som ething,” she said, already heading for the door. The instant she rang P. R adw ay’s doorbell, a dog started bark­ ing wildly. N at would recognize that bark anywhere. A wave of exquisite relief washed over her. A couple of seconds later the door flung open. “ R o ss— ” Patricia Radw ay gasped when she saw it w as not her brother at the door. “ W here’s Rossy? W here’s my brother? I want my brother. Oh, hush up, doggy. Rossy bought me a new dog. And I have a new best friend, only he’s fast asleep. And Rossy says I can keep them both for a long, long tim e.” She had to shout because the barking didn’t stop. It’s okay, Hannah, I ’ve come to get you. You and Jakey. N oth ing’s going to stop me. That goes double for Leo. N a t’s whole body w as trembling as she looked at this short, overweight, disheveled w om an wearing a fuzzy pink robe and a pair o f bunny-rabbit slippers. She appeared to be in her late thir­ ties, early forties, but her mental age couldn’t be more than eight years old. Possibly younger. N at w as certain she had finally come face-to-face with the “ little girl” w ho’d drawn that vile face and m ade that phone call to “ Bethany” M ilburne. “ D o you live here all alone, Patricia?” N at asked, looking carefully around the living room just beyond the door. N a t’s tone w as artificially bright, but she w as quite certain R o ss’s mentally retarded sister w ouldn’t detect her deception. Especially as H an ­ nah w as barking so loud that Patricia could hardly hear her. “ I have my doggy and my friend. Sometimes R ossy stays with me. Sometimes my friend Cindy visits. She’s a nurse. She wears

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a white uniform. She prom ised she’d buy me one, too, so I can be a nurse. Are you a nurse?” “ I’m a friend o f . . . R o ssy’s. Can I come in and visit?” Patricia pursed her lips. “ Rossy says I can’t play with strang­ ers.” “ I’m not a stranger, Patricia,” N at said with false warmth. “ In fact, I know your doggy and your best friend.” Patricia’s m ood altered in a flash. H er pupils dilated; her neck turned bright red. N at berated herself for provoking her. Patricia w as glaring at N at. “ They’re mine. And I look after them real good. Y ou can’t take them away. Rossy prom ised.” “ Oh, I w on’t. He told me they were yours, Patricia. I saw him just a little while a g o .” Patricia’s mouth instantly burst into a sunny smile. N at tried to sw allow back the lump o f pity welling up in her throat. W hat would become of Patricia with her brother gone? “ D o you want me to draw you a picture? I can draw good pictures. R ossy says I draw the best pictures.” N at swallowed hard, remembering that horrible drawing she’d received as a warning. “ Do you know how to play checkers?” Patricia asked. “ A little. But you’ll probably beat m e.” Patricia eagerly tugged N at into the living room and shut the door. N at w as relieved Patricia didn’t throw the lock. If there w as trouble, L eo’d be able to get inside without a problem. N at just hoped he w ouldn’t jump the gun. Seconds after N at entered the living room , a door opened from across the way. A little boy clad in Spider-M an pajam as padded into the room , yawning and rubbing his eyes. “ H annah’s barking. She woke m e.” “ H i, Ja k e y ,” N at said softly, her voice flooded with relief.

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Jak ey ’s hands dropped aw ay from his eyes and they widened like saucers as soon as he heard N a t’s greeting. “ N atalie! N a ­ talie!” he shrieked, running to her. Unfortunately, Jakey had to run right by Patricia. Despite her bulk, V ard a’s sister moved very quickly, grabbing the boy up in her arm s just as Leo came bursting into the apartment. H annah w as now barking at a fever pitch, thrusting herself against the closed door in an effort to get to N at. “ D addy! D ad d y !” Jakey cried. Leo ran to him, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Patricia yank a gun from the pocket of her fuzzy robe. “ I can sh oo t,” she announced proudly. “ R ossy showed m e.” Jakey began to cry uncontrollably. N at w as desperately close to tears herself. She could just imagine w hat L eo’s state o f mind w as at that point. “ Patricia, you’re m aking your new best friend cry.” It was hard for N at to keep her tone sounding soft and unthreatening while at the sam e time having to shout to be heard over H annah’s barks. “ She is such a naughty d o g ,” Patricia said. “ D addy . . . I want my d ad d y !” Jakey w as wracked with sobs and trying, to 110 avail, to wriggle free o f Patricia’s strong hold. “ H e’s not your dad dy,” Patricia snapped angrily. She w as be­ coming seriously frazzled. N o t a good thing. And H annah’s fren­ zied barking w asn’t helping matters. N a t took a cautious step tow ard the door behind which H an ­ nah w as now yelping. “ I’m really good with dogs, Patricia. I bet I could get her to stop m aking so much n oise.” L eo’s eyes were glued to the gun. “ Why don’t you put Jakey down, Patricia?” “ Why don’t you go aw ay?”

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N at took several m ore steps tow ard the door. “Jakey, if you stop crying I’ll let you play with R ossy’s gu n ,” Patricia said brightly. “ But you have to stop crying.” N a t’s chest constricted. Leo cried out in desperation, “ N o. Please.” N at bolted for the door, threw it open. Lunging from her prison, barking frantically, H annah bounded for her. Startled by the dog’s arrival, Patricia let out a cry o f alarm and confusion. N at saw her start to point the gun at Hannah. Leo m ade a dive for Patricia’s legs. She dropped to the floor, still holding the gun, still clutching Jakey. N at rushed over to help Leo. H annah rushed over to protect N at. The large dog went straight for Patricia, leaping on top o f her, barking and snarling. Patricia burst into tears. N at wrested the gun from the crying w om an’s hand. Leo wrenched Jakey from her arm s, clutching his son to his chest. Patricia’s tears disappeared and she shouted angrily, “ Bad doggy. Bad doggy. You are not nice. I don’t like you anymore. I don’t like any o f you. I want my Rossy. I want my R o ssy .”

epilogue Being in prison has changed me. In what ways— only time will tell. L. I.

" I S IT A W F U l ? "

And then, before N at could respond, she said,

“ N o — please don’t say anything.” “ Y o u ’re still a beautiful woman, Lynn.” T ears spiked Lynn’s eyes. Her fingers delicately traced the jag ­ ged line slashing down the right side of her face. It w as still raw, not yet a scar. The plastic surgeon w ho’d performed this first in w hat w as to be a long series o f operations, considered it a suc­ cess. The bandages had been removed today, nearly three weeks after R oss V ard a’s death. Three weeks since Lynn had begun to remember. “ H ow ’s Patricia doin g?” she asked.

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“ She seems quite happy at the group home. There’s even a dog there, N oodles. She adores him .” Lynn hesitated. “ D oes she still ask about her brother?” “ N o t very much, I’m to ld .” “ I don’t hate him. Even now. M y new therapist says I w on’t really be over the traum a until I can feel angry. But right now, I feel too sad to be angry. H e did love me. M e and Patricia. N o one else m attered to him .” “ Lynn, he raped you when you were in G rafton .” Lynn might not feel angry, but N at w as filled with rage. “ N o matter w ho’d done that to you, it would have been abom inable— but a doctor, your own psychiatrist, I can’t think of anything more reprehen­ sible.” “ It’s true. Everything you say. But I honestly believed at the time he . . . cared about me. And he seemed in so much pain— ” “ Y ou were the one who suffered, Lynn,” N at w as quick to interrupt. Lynn nodded slowly as tears slipped down her m arred cheeks. “ Yes. Yes, I know .” She hesitated. “ I’m not sorry he’s dead. Is that terrible?” “ N o ,” N at assured her. “ I’m not sorry, either.” Lynn’s eyes met N a t’s. “ Thank y o u .” “ For w h at?” N at asked. “ For everything. I w on’t forget w hat you’ve done for me. I’ll be eternally grateful.” “ I w as doing my jo b ,” N at said, feeling aw kw ard. Taking compliments had never been her strong suit. Lynn smiled. “ And you do it exceedingly w ell.” N at smiled back. “ Thanks. That means a lot to m e.” N ow both women felt a bit aw kw ard. Lynn reached for a tissue and carefully dabbed at her eyes.

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“ H ave you heard from H arrison Bell?” N at asked. Lynn’s hand dropped from her face. “ T h at’s over.” She looked down at her hands. “ I got a short note from him. H e’s agreed to go into m arital counseling with Carol. I’m glad. It’s the right thing. They have three kids, a home, a history. I don’t know if they can save their m arriage but I believe H arrison very much wants to .” “ Sharon Johnson is w orking on a new placement for you. Dr. M adison says you’ll be released from the hospital in a few days. She advises a week home— ” “ H om e,” Lynn echoed wistfully. “ I know H orizon H ouse is a far cry from — ” “ N o , no that’s not it. I . . . I had a visit from my mother yes­ terday.” She paused for a moment. “ But you know that already.” N at nodded. Lynn w as still an inmate. All visitors had to be cleared and recorded. There w as a corrections officer posted around the clock outside the door of Lynn’s private room. “ It’s very hard for her,” Lynn said. “ She’s hoping my father will eventually relent and at least make som e sort of contact with me, even if it’s only a get-well card. She wishes I could visit them in Westfield, but— ” She sighed. “ Seeing my mom is already more than I ever hoped fo r.” “ I understand you had another visitor yesterday.” Lynn lifted an eyebrow, newly plucked, a sign of her feeling better. “ You m ore than understand. Y ou had to okay the visit.” “ T ru e.” “ It w as strange seeing her again. Like seeing a ghost. I mean, I thought she w as dead.” Lynn grinned. “ T alk about being beau­ tiful. M y god, I w ouldn’t have recognized her. I really w ouldn’t.” “ Yes, she is a looker,” N at said with a laugh. “ I’ll never say anything. I was the one wholly at fault. I should

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never have married her in the first place. Bethany’s a good wom an. I’m not thrilled with her husband’s politics— ” “ That m akes two of u s.” “ But she deserves to be happy.” Lynn paused. “ I told my mother about the visit. I thought she’d be stunned to learn Beth­ any w as alive. But she w asn’t. M y father told her. He also ad ­ mitted that he took money from Daniel M ilburne to ensure their silence about his wife’s previous m arriage to their transsexual son. She’s asham ed about that, but then, shame is nothing new for my mother. I didn’t tell her it w as my money, not M ilburne’s .” N at put her hand over Lynn’s. “ I’m sorry.” “ Hey, I feel some o f that buried anger bubbling up. T h at’s a good thing. See, I am getting better.” “ Yes, you are,” N at said, meaning it. “ D id you know the police found my jou rn al?” she asked after a while. “ Yes. It has to be held in evidence, but then it will be returned to yo u .” “ I’m thinking of trying to publish it. I don’t know if reading about my experiences will help anyone to understand me any better, understand w hat I’ve been through, but I hope it might. And, who knows, m aybe it will help other women in my predic­ am ent.”

“ I brought H annah a doggy bone. Can she have it?” The instant H annah heard Jak ey ’s voice she w as out from her favorite spot under N a t’s desk and bounding for the boy. Jakey waited for N a t’s nod o f okay, then gave the eager H an ­ nah the bone. T o be polite, H annah stuck around long enough for Jakey to give her a pat on the head. Then, bone in mouth,

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she hurried back under the desk to savor the treat in peace. “ H ow are you doing, Ja k e y ?” “ Guess w h at?” he said brightly. “ W hat?” “ D ad says I can come with him when he comes to pick up M o m .” N at planted a bright and artificial smile on her face. “ Hey, that’s super.” He held up two fingers. “Ju st two more weeks. And she’s never coming back here. T h at’s what Suz . . . M om told me. I hope you w on’t be too sad. Y ou could still be her friend.” “ Yes, of course I can .” N at struggled to keep her smile in place. She knew it w as a good thing that Suzanne had finally told Jakey the truth. Suzanne had m ade the decision when she w as in the hospital after her suicide attempt and told Jakey about being his m om as soon as she got back to H orizon H ouse. Jakey took the news with am azing aplom b. H e’d always wanted a mommy and now he had one. Simple as that. Since then, Jakey had come to visit her each week. Being a m om had transform ed Suzanne. N at actually did think she had a real chance to make it this time. O f course, she’d been proven wrong in the past, but without optimism, N at knew she could not survive in her job. “ Hey, guess what, N atalie?” Jakey intruded into her thoughts. “ G ram m a’s gonna m ake lasagn a.” N at gave up even the pretense of a smile. “ I bet your mom will love it.” “ Sure she w ill,” he said confidently. “ Y ou do. D addy says it’s your favorite. Y ou ’re gonna com e, too, right?” “ Well . . . I don’t think I can, Ja k ey .” I ’ll be too busy nursing my broken heart.

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“ Sure you can, N atalie.” N at looked over to see Leo standing at the door. It w as all she could do not to break down and cry. “ I’m gonna go back and play checkers with M om ,” Jakey said. He scurried over to the door, then looked back at N at. “ Y ou know, Patricia w asn’t mean to me when I stayed with her that time. She taught me how to play checkers. And she let me eat two candy bars for breakfast.” Leo closed the door after Jakey ran off to be with his mother. “ I expected nightm ares, all kinds of em otional problem s, but the kid is am azing.” “ Yes. Yes, he is.” She looked away. “ N atalie— ” She held up a hand. “ Leo, it’s all right. Really. N ow , I need to get back to w ork— ” “ She’s his m other— ” “ I know that,” she snapped, then immediately w as asham ed o f her outburst. “ I want Jakey to have a relationship with her,” he went on in the sam e even tone. “ It will be good for Jakey and it will be good for Suzanne.” She nodded, not trusting her voice. “ I’m not going to tell you things will be exactly the sam e with us— you and me— as they were before. But I still want there to be a ‘you and m e,’ N atalie. W hat about you? W hat do you w an t?” She smiled crookedly. “ T alk about a loaded question.” H e smiled back. “ Y eah.” And then his smile faded. “ S o ?” Their eyes met and held. “ Why don’t we see how it go es?” Leo didn’t respond. “ It’s an answer, Leo. It’s the best I can d o .” “ I guess I can’t ask for more than that, N atalie.”