26
KATE HEADED FOR THE elevators, trying to pull herself together. It was quite a shock to realize she might be treating the daughter of the man who’d murdered her sister. She needed to talk to Ira about it.
An elevator arrived as Kate pressed the call button and out stepped Elizabeth McCormack, Nikki’s mother.
“Dr. Wolfe?”
“Elizabeth,” Kate said, startled. “Can I help you?”
“I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about Nikki.” A ripe smell came from her, as if she hadn’t bathed for days. It was at odds with her expensive tailored coat, diamond earrings, and top-of-the-line knee-high leather boots. Her honey-blond hair spilled over her shoulders in greasy ribbons and her eyes were red from crying. “My mind won’t stop racing. And I keep thinking—what if? What if we’d done something different? Would she still be alive?”
Kate’s stomach seized. “Let’s go to my office where we can have some privacy.”
“My daughter came to you in a fragile state of mind,” Elizabeth said. “Those pills you prescribed—psychotropic drugs—I just found out that they can sometimes do more harm than good. Did you know that?”
“I had her on the mildest dose of anti-anxiety medication.”
“Some of her friends are telling me now that Nikki was very depressed. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You knew she was being treated for depression.” Kate tried to keep her voice calm as Elizabeth’s grew more agitated.
“No, I mean during the last couple of weeks, was she suicidal?”
“Nikki was doing very well in her therapy, but we had a long way to go.”
Elizabeth stiffened. “How can you even say that? Doing well?”
“Elizabeth, please, let’s go to my office.”
“No.” She angrily brushed her off. “I want answers. Why did she kill herself? We came home, and there she was, hanging from the ceiling. And I was standing there, looking at my daughter, and I didn’t understand. It was as if the world had tilted upside down. But you’re a doctor. You were supposed to warn us if she was suicidal,” she cried. “How could you let this happen? How could you have missed all the signs?”
“I can assure you, Elizabeth, I didn’t miss a thing.”
“Oh! That’s why my daughter is dead, right? Because you didn’t miss a thing. You did absolutely nothing wrong.”
“I’m not saying that, Elizabeth, please…”
“Stop calling me Elizabeth! Just stop.” Suddenly she pushed Kate hard with both hands. Kate lost her balance, arms twirling, and landed on the floor with a graceless thud. She sat there stunned, while Elizabeth clamped a gloved hand over her mouth and said, “Oh no.”
“It’s okay,” Kate reassured her.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me…”
A few of the hospital staff were gathered in the hallway. Somebody must’ve alerted James about the confrontation, because now he came charging toward them.
“Kate? Are you all right?” He helped her to her feet. “What happened? What’s going on?”
“I’m fine. Just a little shaken.” She looked over at Elizabeth. “This is Nikki’s mother.”
James spun to face Elizabeth McCormack. “Did you push her? Are you blaming her for this?”
“James, don’t.” Kate was mortified.
“No, this is ridiculous, Kate. They blame us when something bad happens, but they never hear the awful things their kids have to say about them.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said quickly. “She lost her daughter.”
“Nikki’s dead, and I want to know why!” Elizabeth was sobbing now.
“Kate did everything she possibly could,” James said.
“James, stop. It’s all right.”
“No, it’s not. It’s called assault.”
One of the elevators dinged open, and Elizabeth retreated into it and stared at them as the aluminum doors slid shut. James wrapped his arms protectively around Kate, and she let him hold her for a moment without resistance. She’d been struck twice in one day. That had to be a record.
He insisted on escorting her over to the nurses’ station, where he made her sit down and found an abrasion on her elbow. The nurses came over and fussed with the Band-Aids and iodine.
“I’m okay,” she told anyone who’d listen, but they all ignored her.
“Some of these people are the reason their precious offspring are here in the first place,” James muttered.
“I wish you hadn’t confronted her like that,” Kate said.
“Why not? It’s suddenly okay for her to assault you?”
“No. But have some compassion.”
“Maybe I’m all compassioned out?” he snapped.
She rested a hand on his arm. “Listen, I’m sorry about the vacation…”
“No,” he said, sounding distraught. “I’ve been such a dick about that. It’s just that we were going to make sure you were far away from it all next week.”
She nodded. For months they’d been planning what they were going to do on the night of Henry’s execution. They were supposed to be luxuriating in some upscale Sedona resort, sampling Verde Valley wines and ignoring the news.
“And on top of everything else, I just heard that Mom slipped on some ice and broke her ankle.”
“Oh no. When did this happen?”
“Half an hour ago. I have to drive to Massachusetts General and talk to her doctors. It’s a really bad break—she’s going to need surgery.”
“Give her my love. I hope she’s okay.” She hugged him. “And don’t worry about next Wednesday. We’ll spend the evening in bed and pretend we’re in Sedona. We’ll have our own wine-tasting party.”
He smiled. “It’s a date.”
“Let me know how Vanessa is, okay?”
He gave her a kiss and walked away.
27
KATE KNOCKED ON IRA’S door.
“Come in,” he said.
“Got a minute?”
“For you—anything.” He dropped his paperwork. “Have a seat.”
She closed the door behind her and muttered, “Where to begin.”
“What’s up?”
“Elizabeth McCormack just pushed me over.”
“She pushed you?”
“In front of the elevators. Ten minutes ago.”
“Are you all right?”
“Just a bruised ego.”
“Excuse me a second.” He picked up his phone and told his secretary to hold his calls. Then he said, “Okay. Sit. Talk.”
She sat down and said, “She blamed me for Nikki’s suicide.”
“So basically—your worst nightmare.”
She nodded. “It gets all those self-defeating gears grinding.”
“Right, like this is all your fault. When we both know that’s complete nonsense.”
“A lot of things feel like my fault lately,” Kate said.
“Such as?”
She rubbed her pounding temples. “It’s complicated.”
“I’ve got all day.”
“No, you don’t, but thanks anyway, Ira.”
He heaved a sigh. “Kate. What’s going on?”
“I met a man at Nikki’s funeral… a retired detective who is trying to convince me that Henry Blackwood is innocent.”
Ira frowned. “What?”
“I know. Sounds crazy, right?”
“The execution is only a few days away.”
She nodded. “Wednesday night.”
“It’s a little late to be changing your mind, don’t you think?”
“James said the same thing last night.”
“Well, maybe he’s right?”
Kate sighed. “People have been trying to convince me of Blackwood’s innocence for years, so I guess it makes sense that things would escalate shortly before the execution.”
“There you go,” Ira said. “How’s your new patient?”
“We’re making progress. I think
Maddie’s stepfather may be abusing her.”
“Sexually?”
“No evidence of that. But perhaps verbal and physical abuse.”
“Have you confronted the patient about it?”
“So far she denies it.”
He frowned. “Have you talked to the stepfather?”
“Not yet. The Wards aren’t the easiest people to get a hold of. They don’t own cell phones apparently, just the landline, and half the time the answering machine doesn’t pick up. But I’m worried about Nelly Ward. She comes across as a battered wife.”
Ira took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, couple of things. First, we need to step carefully. As you know, the hospital has specific requirements when it comes to child abuse.”
“I’ll document everything.”
“Also, you need to meet the girl’s stepfather as soon as possible.”
“Okay.”
“Once you’ve made an assessment, if you suspect there’s abuse in the home, we’ll get social services involved.”
Kate nodded. Ursula O’Keefe was their go-to gal at the hospital. She would do a little sleuthing on her own—public records, police reports, domestic disputes. If it turned out to be true, then Ursula would contact the Department of Human Services, and they would obtain a court order to remove the child from the home. Maddie would be placed with a foster family. Some kids blossomed away from toxic family environments; others didn’t fare as well. It was impossible to predict.
Kate frowned. “I’d like to take it slow, then.”
He nodded. “That would be my advice.”
“I want to make sure we do what’s best for Maddie, given the alternatives.”
“Agreed. Anything else?”
She hesitated, wondering if she should mention her observation about Maddie’s resemblance to Henry Blackwood. But it was only natural that Maddie would share some of her great-uncle’s genes. Perhaps the resemblance only went as far as that.
“Keep me in the loop. And, Kate.” Ira leaned forward. “Don’t let yourself get trapped in any more conversations about Blackwood’s innocence. Let justice take its course.”
28
THAT NIGHT, JAMES WAS on the phone with his mother’s doctors, discussing her treatment plan. Vanessa had undergone surgery and would be in a cast for several months. Instead of going back to work like he’d planned, James took the rest of the week off so that he could make arrangements for her recuperation and spend his days at Massachusetts General Hospital.
They went to bed late, and Kate wrapped her arms around James and held him close. “I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you, too.” He frowned. “They say trouble comes in threes.”
“We’re fine. Just take care of your mother. She needs you.”
The following morning, Kate drove up to Wilamette to meet Maddie’s stepfather. She got there in record time and parked in the driveway behind Nelly’s navy blue Toyota Camry.
Nelly greeted her at the door with a disapproving scowl. In the clear morning light, her face looked slightly misshapen, as if she’d been someone’s punching bag for years.
“Is your husband here?” Kate asked.
“No.”
“When will he be back?”
“Tonight.”
“It’s important that I speak with him. Can I come in?”
“I guess.”
The kitchen was a mess. Kitschy collectibles cluttered every surface.
“Coffee?” Nelly offered.
“Thanks.”
Many of the ceramic pieces had been broken and glued back together, potential evidence of marital discord. Kate tried to feel some compassion for this woman. None of it was Nelly’s fault. Her dysfunction was a survival mechanism, an outgrowth of her defensiveness—as was Kate’s. But their respective tragedies had sent them rocketing in different directions.
What bothered Kate the most were Nelly’s choices regarding her daughter. Surely her instinct would’ve been to protect Maddie from abuse, given her own experiences. There were plenty of organizations and shelters to choose from. If it was true that her husband had verbally abused her and Maddie, perhaps even physically, Nelly could’ve fought harder to protect her child.
“Where’s your husband?” Kate asked.
“Pittsburgh,” Nelly said, bringing the coffee over to the table. “There was a delay or something. He won’t be home until later tonight.”
Kate frowned. “But I thought you said he was home? Has he gone back to work already?”
“Whatever.” Nelly brushed it off. She’d been caught in a lie but didn’t bother explaining herself. “He won’t be home until later tonight.”
Kate let it go. “When are you coming to the hospital?”
“Soon,” Nelly answered vaguely.
“Soon when?”
“I don’t know.” She puffed herself up with injured pride. “You have no right to look down your nose at me. You don’t know anything about me.”
“You’re right,” Kate said stiffly. “I don’t. So enlighten me.”
“I love that little girl. I have all her baby clothes. Every drawing she ever did. Every scrap of homework. Every report card. I know all her likes and dislikes. She won’t eat a fleck of mayonnaise or ketchup. Just so you know.”
Kate would have to sort out what was going on inside the Ward household if she hoped to help Maddie at all. At the same time, she didn’t want to be unfair to these people. She was more than willing to listen to their side of the story before she made any moves that could potentially ruin their lives. But they were running out of time.
She decided to go for it. “Does your husband beat you?”
“Does he what?”
“Beat you?”
“No!”
Kate detected fear and evasiveness in Nelly’s eyes, the slipperiness of deceit.
“Derrick wouldn’t lay a hand on me.”
“Look,” Kate said with resignation, “it’s important that you tell me the truth, because I’m going to have to make some decisions that will affect your entire family, and I need to hear your side of the story.”
Nelly took a cigarette out of the pack on the table and rasped, “Are you asking me if my husband beats the living shit out of me? The answer is no. He’s a good provider. A good father. Are you asking me does he hit Maddie? The answer is never. He wouldn’t lay a hand on her. Maddie harms herself.”
“So your husband doesn’t beat you or Maddie?”
“I’ve had three.” She lit her cigarette and inhaled deeply.
“Excuse me?”
“Three husbands.” Nelly gave a snort of derision. “The first one beat me up pretty regular. Are you gonna arrest him? Good luck finding him.”
“I didn’t realize…”
“I had a difficult childhood. Some people never get over it. I thought that I could. Then I married that bastard. He seemed okay at first. He came across as charming. But as the months went by, it dawned on me what a bully he was. And I paid dearly for my mistake. So I divorced him and married my second husband. He was a charmer, too. Real nice guy. But guess what? Same damn thing. I swear, I must have the word ‘victim’ stamped on my forehead. Doormat—step all over me.” She rubbed her brow and laughed. “Boy oh boy, he wasn’t subtle at all. First it was a love punch. Then a wrestling match. And you figure—he’s just goofing around, right? But then he hits you. And it becomes deadly serious. It ain’t so funny anymore. And before you know it, you’re in over your head.”
“Did any of your husbands ever hurt Maddie?”
“The first one left when she was six months old. He didn’t get a chance to hurt her, unless you count the times he punched me in the stomach when I was pregnant.”
Kate winced. Those counted.
“My second husband wouldn’t have nothing to do with Maddie. He barely acknowledged her existence. And now I’ve got this one here—Derrick. A good man with a good job. He loves her like a real daddy. Bu
t you know… turns out there are different kinds of bastards.”
“What do you mean?”
Nelly ran her hands through her short dark hair. “Always with the criticism. Always with the harsh words. I thought it was my bad luck, you know? One lousy marriage after another. That’s why I started collecting good-luck charms.” She jangled the turquoise-and-silver bracelets on her wrists. “But now I suspect it’s me. That I attract it somehow. Is there a victim gene? I wonder.”
“So it’s only harsh words? He never physically harms you?”
Nelly touched the mottled bruises on her neck. They had faded since Kate had first seen them. “Only when I piss him off.” She had the laugh of a drunken librarian—there was a swaggering hush to it. “I do that sometimes,” she admitted. “Piss him off.”
“But you just said…”
“I know what I said.”
“But it contradicts your statement…”
“My statement? Is this an interrogation? Am I under arrest?”
“No.”
“I contradict myself a lot. Don’t you?”
It was true. Most people contradicted themselves. But Kate kept her poker face on and didn’t back down. “Then you admit he hits you?”
“It’s not the same thing,” Nelly explained. “My first two husbands beat the living crap out of me. Derrick gets pissed off occasionally. Once in a while, in the middle of a fight, he’ll take a swipe at me. But only if I provoke him. He doesn’t beat me as a rule. Mostly, he’s super-critical, and that gets my mouth running. So I’ll say something nasty. But look. It’s a mutual thing with us—not me cowering in a corner and him stomping on my head, like it was before.”
“Okay,” Kate said. “And you swear he’s never lost his temper with Maddie?”
“I’m telling you, he wouldn’t raise a finger.”
“I find that hard to believe, given Maddie’s history of self-harm.” Kate had seen it many times before—a child mimicking the behavior of her abuser and learning to hurt herself.
A Breath After Drowning Page 16
