by Lisa Gardner
“Feeling better,” the nurse said brightly, then glanced nervously from Catherine to James and Maryanne, then to Catherine again.
Catherine decided to solve the dilemma for the woman. She put her hand on her father-in-law’s arm. A first-class showman himself, he didn’t flinch.
“Thank you so much for helping out,” she told James with a warm smile, then flashed the same grateful grin over at Maryanne. “Fortunately, I finished up at the funeral parlor sooner than I expected, so I came to get Nathan myself.”
“Really, you shouldn’t have,” James said. “Maryanne and I would be delighted to watch the boy for a while. You should rest.”
“Yes, dear,” Maryanne echoed. “You must be exhausted. Let us watch Nathan. We have this wonderful room at the Hotel LeRoux. It will be a great treat for him after all this time in a hospital.”
“Oh no. I’m sure after everything Nathan has been through, it would be much nicer for him to go straight home.”
“To the house where his father died?” James asked dryly.
“To the comfort of his own bedroom.”
James thinned his lips. He and Maryanne exchanged glances. Catherine turned swiftly to Nurse Brandi.
“I’d like to see Nathan now.”
“Of course.”
“I’m sure someone must be filling in for Dr. Rocco. Please find that doctor and have him sign the discharge papers so I can take Nathan home.” Catherine held up the Louis Vuitton bag she was carrying. “I’ll work on getting my son into his clothes.”
Maryanne spoke up brightly. “Why don’t we get him dressed, darling, while you deal with the paperwork? Surely that will be much faster for everyone.”
“Absolutely,” James agreed enthusiastically. “Wonderful idea!”
Catherine was getting a pounding headache. She smiled anyway. “That is so kind of both of you, really. But I just miss Nathan terribly; I can’t imagine not seeing him right away.”
“We also can’t wait to see our grandson!” Maryanne again, so gay, she sounded brittle.
“You’re entirely too kind. But Nathan’s health is still very fragile. After everything he’s been through the past three days, I think it would be best if he just saw me for now—tone down the excitement. Tomorrow, of course, you’re more than welcome to come to our home.” Catherine put her hand on Nurse Brandi’s arm, a little more forceful now, a little more insistent. “Nathan?” she prodded.
“Of course.”
The nurse gave James and Maryanne one last uncertain look, then briskly led Catherine down the hall. Behind her, Catherine was keenly aware that her in-laws weren’t turning to leave. In fact, at the mention of a replacement doctor for Tony, James had gotten a gleam in his eye.
James and Maryanne never went down without a fight. Most likely, Catherine didn’t have much time.
In the curtained-off space, Nathan was sitting up in the hospital bed. His color was better. His abdomen no longer protruded painfully. He still looked tiny to her, lost in a sea of white sheets and black wires. There was nothing quite so grotesque as a hospital gown on a child.
“Baby,” she whispered.
Nathan looked up at her with his solemn blue eyes. He said clearly, “Where’s Prudence?”
“Today’s her day off,” Catherine said steadily. “I’m going to take you home. Would you like to go home?”
Nathan looked around the room, at the IV, at the heart monitor. “Am I better?” he whispered, looking suddenly and unbearably uncertain.
“Yes.”
He nodded more decisively. “Then I would like to go home.”
“Let’s get you dressed.”
Nurse Brandi removed the IV needle, then pushed aside the heart monitor.
“The discharge papers?” Catherine prompted, her gaze already flicking nervously behind her.
“Of course.”
Brandi disappeared down the hallway. Catherine plastered a fresh smile on her face and turned back to her son. “I brought you your favorite outfit. Jeans, boots, the cowboy shirt.”
She briskly opened the bag, laying out the clothes on the edge of the bed. Nathan seemed subdued, but finally, he shrugged off his hospital gown.
“Was it a dream?” he asked.
Catherine knew instantly what he meant. “No,” she said.
“Daddy had a gun.”
“Yes.”
“Is he dead?”
“Yes.”
Nathan nodded and started to pull on his clothes. He had just finished buttoning his flannel cowboy shirt when James and Maryanne appeared with a man in surgical scrubs in tow.
“Nathan!” James boomed heartily. “It’s my favorite cowboy! Ready to saddle up? Your grandmother and I would love to have you come join us at the Hotel LeRoux. Room service, Nathan. All the hot fudge sundaes you can eat.”
Nathan regarded his grandfather as if he’d sprouted two heads. James rarely paid Nathan quite this much attention. And in fact, ice cream made Nathan unbelievably ill.
Unperturbed, James turned to Catherine. The flush of triumph was unmistakable on his face. “Catherine, meet Dr. Gerritsen, head of Pediatrics. I think you two should have a talk. In the meantime, Maryanne and I will stay here with Nathan.”
Maryanne had already stepped forward, reaching out a hand toward Nathan. The yearning expression on her face was hard to bear. Did she look at her grandson and see her last link to Jimmy? Or did she merely see another kind of a weapon, a living, breathing tool that could be used to hurt Catherine?
Dr. Gerritsen was trying to gesture Catherine out into the hallway. She refused to budge. All James and Maryanne needed was thirty seconds, and Nathan would be gone. Possession, after all, was nine-tenths of the law.
Dr. Gerritsen finally gave up, stepping into the now crowded space and focusing his attention on Nathan. The pediatrician held a chart in his right hand.
“How are you feeling, young man?” Dr. Gerritsen asked.
“Okay.” In fact, Nathan was regarding all four adults nervously.
“According to your chart, everything looks good.”
“Where’s Dr. Tony?” Nathan asked.
“Dr. Rocco couldn’t be here today, Nathan, so I’m helping out. Is that okay?”
The boy merely stared at Dr. Gerritsen. He didn’t like doctors, particularly new doctors, and his gaze said he was already suspicious.
“Would you like to go home?” Dr. Gerritsen asked.
A somber nod.
“Seems like a good idea to me, too. I’ll tell you what, sport. Why don’t you hang out here for just one more minute, while I talk with your grandparents and mother. Nurse Brandi, want to show Nathan how a stethoscope works?”
Nathan already knew how a stethoscope worked. His gaze flew immediately to Catherine, and she could see his growing panic. She did her best to give him a bolstering smile, though the same panic was already rising in her chest.
Nurse Brandi stepped into the space. Dr. Gerritsen, James, Maryanne, and Catherine disappeared back behind the curtain.
Dr. Gerritsen didn’t waste any time. “Judge Gagnon tells me that there is a custody issue with Nathan,” the doctor said, looking Catherine straight in the eye.
“Judge Gagnon and his wife have filed for custody of Nathan,” Catherine replied evenly. She was desperately eyeing the head of Pediatrics, trying to get a quick read on the man. Older. Wedding ring on his left hand. Happily married? Or bored, egotistical—ripe for the attentions of a young, beautiful widow?
“He has concerns for the boy’s safety,” Dr. Gerritsen said. His tone was level. Serious. Very serious.
Catherine abandoned all notions of flirtation. She went instead for the concerned daughter-in-law, respectful and caring. She turned her head slightly and said in a low voice, as if she didn’t want to upset her in-laws, “Judge Gagnon and his wife have recently lost their son. They are wonderful grandparents, but … they’re not quite themselves right now, Dr. Gerritsen. Surely you understand how difficult this
must be for them.”
“We’re sharp as tacks and you know it,” James interjected harshly. “Don’t play us for doddering fools.”
Dr. Gerritsen’s gaze flickered to James and Maryanne, then back to Catherine. His expression was plainly perturbed. “I don’t like being put in the middle of these things.”
“I never would have dreamed of getting you involved,” Catherine assured him.
“According to Dr. Rocco’s records, Nathan falls ill a lot.” Dr. Gerritsen added pointedly, “And rather easily.”
“Dr. Rocco always took excellent care of Nathan.”
Dr. Gerritsen gave her a dubious look. He obviously knew of her relationship with Tony and wasn’t fooled. “I don’t think you should take the boy home,” the head of Pediatrics announced.
Catherine’s heart fell. She could feel the panic bubble up in her throat, even as James began to smile.
“Unfortunately,” Dr. Gerritsen continued crisply, “I don’t have any say in the matter.”
“What?” James this time, clearly stunned.
“As of this moment, she’s still Nathan’s legal guardian.” Dr. Gerritsen shrugged. “I’m sorry, Judge Gagnon, but my hands are tied.”
Maryanne started shaking her head, a woman suddenly coming awake only to find herself in the middle of a very bad dream.
“Exigent circumstances,” James countered quickly. “You felt there was an immediate and compelling threat to the boy, justifying sending him home with his grandparents.”
“But I don’t know that there’s an immediate and compelling threat.”
“The boy’s health history. You yourself said it was suspicious!”
“He needs us,” Maryanne said plaintively. “We’re all he has left.”
Dr. Gerritsen flashed Maryanne a sympathetic look, before returning his attention to James. “Suspicious, yes. Definitive, no.”
James was clearly furious now. “She is a threat to that child!”
“If I was a threat to Nathan,” Catherine interjected levelly, “why would I keep bringing him to the hospital for medical care?”
“Because it’s what you do!” James barked. “Using your own child to gain attention for yourself, so you can play the role of the tragic mother. I tried to warn Jimmy, I tried to tell him what you’re doing. Harming your own son. It’s disgusting!”
“But I don’t need to play the role of the tragic mother anymore to get attention, do I, James?” Catherine looked her father-in-law in the eye. “Now I’m the grieving widow.”
James growled, an unexpected snarl of frustration and fury in the back of his throat. Catherine feared for a moment that the man might leap forward, that he might actually wrap his hands around her throat. That would be a change of pace. Jimmy had always been so sloppy with his rage. His father, on the other hand, was cold.
“James, darling?” Maryanne was whispering. “Is she getting Nathan? You said it wouldn’t happen. How can that happen?”
James put his arms around his shaking wife. He pressed her against him, comforting her with one hand, even as he continued to give Catherine a dark, angry stare.
“This isn’t over,” he said clearly.
“It is today.”
Dr. Gerritsen had had enough of the family drama. The doctor was already gesturing Catherine back inside the curtained-off space. “I’m sorry, Judge Gagnon, but there is nothing I can legally do to stop Mrs. Gagnon from signing out her son. If circumstances change, I’ll be happy to help you. But until then …”
Dr. Gerritsen shrugged; Catherine ducked around his arm. She didn’t bother to flash James a triumphant smile over her shoulder. She didn’t dare look at Maryanne’s grieving face.
She simply bundled Nathan up in his coat and got the hell out of there.
Nathan was silent for the ride home. He sat in the back of the car, in his car seat, his right hand clutching the shoulder strap. Catherine thought there was something she should say. And then, for a while, she was simply as sad as Nathan that Prudence wasn’t working today.
Pulling into a narrow parking space, she went around to get Nathan out of the back. The sun was shining, the afternoon surprisingly warm. She looked down the street and saw several of her neighbors out, walking kids, walking dogs. She wondered if it was strange that she didn’t wave to her own neighbors. She wondered if it was stranger that none of them would’ve bothered to wave back.
Nathan piled out of the car, awkward in his heavy wool coat and new cowboy boots. The coat, a gift from his grandparents, was three sizes too big for him. The cowboy boots, purchased from the baby section of Ralph Lauren, at least fit.
Nathan wouldn’t look up. Not down the street. Not at their townhouse. He put his hand in Catherine’s obediently enough, but as they got closer and closer to the front steps, his feet began to drag. He shuffled along halfheartedly, kicking at stray leaves.
Catherine glanced up at their front door. She thought of the lobby behind it, then the stairs leading up to their unit. She thought of the master bedroom, with its torn-up carpet, splattered walls, and hastily rearranged furniture. Suddenly, she didn’t want to go up those stairs either. She wished, for both of their sakes, that they could simply run away.
“Nathan,” she said quietly, “why don’t we go to the park?”
Nathan looked up at her. He nodded so vigorously, it made her smile even as her heart ached. They set off down the street.
The Public Garden was crowded. Young lovers, dog walkers, urban families with stir-crazy kids. Catherine and Nathan walked along the water, where the swan boats paddled in the summer. She bought popcorn from a vendor and they amused themselves feeding the milling ducks. Finally they found a park bench at the edge of a clearing, where children the same age as Nathan, but twice his size, ran and tumbled and laughed in the now waning sunlight.
Nathan didn’t even try to join them. At the age of four, these were the lessons he’d already learned.
“Nathan?” Catherine said quietly. “Now that you’re home … some people are going to need to talk to you.”
He looked up at her, his face so pale, she felt compelled to run her finger down his cheek. His skin was cool and dry, the face of a boy who spent too much time indoors.
“Do you remember Thursday night?” she asked softly. “The bad night?”
He didn’t say a word.
“Daddy had a gun, didn’t he, Nathan?”
Slowly, Nathan nodded.
“We were fighting.”
Nathan nodded again.
“Do you remember what we were fighting about?” Catherine was holding her breath. This was the wild card, of course. How much did a frightened four-year-old remember? How much did he understand?
Reluctantly, Nathan shook his head.
Catherine released her pent-up breath. She said lightly, “All the people need to know, honey, is that Daddy had a gun. And that we were terribly scared. They understand the rest.”
“Daddy’s dead,” Nathan said.
“Yes.”
“Daddy doesn’t come home.”
“No, he won’t come home again.”
“Will you?”
Catherine stroked his cheek again. “I will try to always come home to you, Nathan.”
“And Prudence?”
“She will come home, too.”
Nathan nodded gravely. “Daddy had a gun,” he repeated. “I was scared.”
“Thank you, Nathan.”
Nathan went back to watching the other kids. After a moment, he crawled onto her lap. After another moment, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rested her cheek against the top of his ruffling hair.
Chapter
21
When Bobby returned home, not one but three people waited outside his front door. And his day, he thought, just kept getting better and better.
“Shouldn’t you be in church?” He asked ADA Rick Copley as he unlocked the door. Then he held up a hand. “Wait, I know: you already sold your soul to th
e devil.”
Copley scowled at Bobby’s attempt at humor, then followed Bobby inside his first-floor unit. Behind Copley came D.D. Warren, careful not to look Bobby in the eye, and behind her came an investigator from the DA’s office whom Bobby vaguely remembered from the initial shooting interrogation on Friday morning. He couldn’t recall the man’s name.
Investigator Casella was the magic answer, provided by Copley thirty seconds later as the ADA made introductions in the middle of Bobby’s family room. The space was small, the furniture well broken in and currently cluttered with an assortment of empty take-out food boxes and piles of napkins. All three looked around, no one sure where to sit.
Bobby opted not to help them out. As far as he was concerned, these were not people he wanted getting too comfortable in his home.
He went into the kitchen, grabbed himself a Coke, and came back into the family room without bothering to ask if anyone else wanted something to drink. He pulled out a wooden kitchen chair and had a seat. After a moment, D.D. shot him a dry glance, then set about moving pizza boxes until the trio could plunk down on his ancient sofa. They promptly sank down four inches. Bobby used the Coke to cover his smile.
“So,” Copley said, trying to sound very authoritative for a man who now had his chin propped up on his knees. “We need to follow up on some questions from Thursday night.”
“By all means.” Bobby waited for Copley to start from the very beginning, making Bobby retell his story yet again and seeing what kind of details they could ferret out to trip Bobby up. Copley’s first question, then, surprised him.
“Did you know that Catherine and Jimmy Gagnon were big supporters of the Boston Symphony?”
Bobby tensed. His mind was already racing ahead, and what he saw, he didn’t like. “No,” he said carefully.
“They attended a lot of the concerts.”
“Is that right?”
“Fund-raisers, cocktail parties. The Gagnons were real active in those circles.”
“Good for them.”
“Good for your girlfriend,” Copley corrected.
Bobby didn’t say anything.
“Susan Abrahms. That’s her name, correct? Plays the cello with the orchestra.”
