The Missing Year

by Belinda Frisch

  “I miss her, too,” Ross said, trying not to cry. “I miss her, too.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Ross woke up in a panic, his face full of Camille’s blond hair, which had fanned out across the pillow.

  “Camille, wake up.” He shook her by the shoulder. “Come on. Wake up.” He leapt out of bed, having forgotten to set an alarm.

  Camille rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Makeup streaked her tear-stained face and an impression of the snap on her sleeve had been stamped into her cheek. She flattened her hair with her hands and smacked her lips. “What time is it?” she said, stretching.

  “Seven-thirty. I’m going to be late for work.”

  Camille ran her tongue across her teeth, looking at the made bed they had slept upon. She looked down at her shirt and fixed her gaze on the off-centered snaps.

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing,” Ross said. “Nothing happened.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. You had more than two glasses of wine last night, didn’t you?”

  “More like a bottle.”

  “At least you called a cab.”

  Camille felt around the bed. “Whatever I said or did, I didn’t mean it. It was the alcohol talking. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t sweat it. What are you looking for?”

  “Nothing. I’m not looking for anything.”

  “Then I’m going to take a quick shower. I’ll be right out.”

  Ross turned on the water and jumped into the spray before it was hot. He let out a howl and knocked the shampoo bottle from the ledge directly onto his toe.

  “Everything okay?” Camille asked from the other side of the curtain.

  “I dropped the shampoo, the water is cold, but other than that, yes. Everything is fine.” His big toe throbbed as he lathered up, the bar of soap bearing the grit of the previous day’s post-swim shower.

  “Mind if I use your toothbrush? Something tastes awful.”

  “Since you put it that way, help yourself.”

  The previous night had Ross feeling closer to Camille than he had felt to anyone in a long time. Different than the affection he had for Mattie, the friendship he and Camille had rekindled felt like family.

  He could tell her anything.

  Based on the previous night’s conversation, Camille felt much the same.

  She confessed about her failed marriage, about Adrian had cheated after her near-breakdown following Sarah’s funeral. She said she had tried, but couldn’t forgive him.

  Ross owned up to his problems at work, telling her how he’d gone too far with the Pope case, nearly costing the girl her life, and how almost losing his job forced him to face his most difficult case yet—Lila Wheeler, a patient he spoke about only in abstract.

  “You’re going to be fine, you know?” Camille said, her presence that of a pesky sister. She swished then spat a mouthful of water into the sink.

  “How so?” Ross rinsed off and reached out for the towel she had taken from the rack, peeking from around the curtain.

  “Here.” She handed it to him after wiping her chin. “I mean with Sarah’s birthday.”

  “Camille, I’m not sure—”

  “You’re not backing out on me, are you?”

  Ross wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out onto the thin floor mat. “No, but what if I can’t do it? What if seeing her headstone throws me over the edge?” Of all his admissions, telling Camille about his failed trip to the cemetery had been the hardest and left him feeling the most vulnerable.

  “You’ve always been stronger than me, Ross, and I made it.”

  Ross picked up his electric razor and shaved while looking for an outfit. The mood had gotten too heavy. He grabbed a green button-down, a white sweater, and a pair of navy blue dress pants and set them on the bed before pulling a pair of boxers up under his towel.

  Camille wolf whistled when he accidentally mooned her.

  “Not funny,” he said, second-guessing his decision to get dressed in front of her. The motel room was too small and he was running too late to do otherwise.

  “I know. I’m sorry.” Camille ran a wet washcloth over her face. “If it makes you feel any better, the first time I went to see Sarah, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I wasn’t sure I could. Now, the cemetery is like our place. I go there to sit, to relax, and imagine her there with me. Before you turned up, Sarah was the only person I felt comfortable talking to. Weird, right?”

  Ross shook his head. “Not weird. And she is there, at least part of her.”

  “Her spirit?”

  “Her body.” Ross wasn’t a religious man, the byproduct of being raised by an ex-Catholic with anger issues about her husband’s untimely death.

  “Is that what you’re having trouble dealing with, the idea of her remains?”

  “I thought we were done talking about this.”

  “I’m trying to help you.”

  “I don’t need help, Camille. I’m the psychiatrist, you’re the actress. Besides, it’s not that. I don’t want to remember my wife as a name on a slab.” Ross checked the clock for the fifth time in five minutes. “Anyway, I really have to go.”

  “You still have the number to those cab companies?”

  Ross grabbed his keys from the nightstand and tossed them to her. “Why don’t you drop me off at the center and you can pick me up after work?”

  “Really? What if you need to leave early?”

  “Why would I need to do that?”

  “After what happened yesterday—”

  He’d forgotten he told her about the lake.

  “It’ll be fine,” he said. “Keep your phone close, and this time we’ll exchange numbers.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “Are you sure you want me to take the car?” Camille pulled up to Lakeside’s main entrance and shifted into park.

  “I’m positive. Back here at five?”

  “Unless you call before then.” Camille reached across to give Ross a hug and said, “Last chance to change your mind.”

  “Five o’clock,” Ross repeated, praying not to need her sooner. “Wish me luck.”

  “Luck,” she said.

  He grabbed his bag from behind the passenger’s seat and headed inside.

  Chelsea flashed him an awkward smile as he passed the reception desk and immediately put the phone to her ear. She spoke softly, her eyes on him as if she’d sounded a silent alarm.

  Ross expected security, Guy, or both any minute.

  It was hard not to be paranoid after the day before’s hasty departure. He hurried down the first floor hallway, left his things in his office, and headed upstairs.

  The community room bustled with early morning chatter. All of the patients, except for Lila, had gathered to eat.

  “Good morning, Dr. Reeves.” Kendra winked and smiled.

  “Good morning, Kendra.” He barely glanced in her direction, careful not to encourage her.

  Sophie, the pale-skinned goth, sat in the corner recliner, sketching a picture in her black leather journal. She licked her fingertip and smudged the charcoal that covered her hands and face.

  Josh sat on an area rug in the center of the floor, transfixed by a cartoon, rubbing his finger inside of his ear.

  Mark refilled the orange juice pitcher on the breakfast cart. “Hey, Dr. Reeves.”

  “Mark, just the man I was looking for.”

  “Coffee?” Mark filled a cup from the carafe and held it out to him.

  “Thanks.”

  He poured a second for himself. “Cream? Sugar?”

  “Black, please. Is there someplace we can talk? I need a favor.”

  Elijah stormed up to them before Mark had a chance to answer. “Where’s my sanitizer?” He crossed his arms and closed in on Mark who was easily twice his size.

  Mark kept his calm, backing up and continuing to line up the individually wrapped pastries on a tray. “We’re not going to go over this again, Elijah. Dr. Oli
ver said no more.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. Dr. Oliver isn’t here.”

  Ross glanced at Mark for confirmation, unable to believe his luck.

  “He’s running late,” Mark said. “He’ll be here shortly.”

  “What am I supposed to do until then? How am I supposed to touch those things after you, the factory workers, the packagers, the delivery people, and God knows who else touched them? Do you have any idea how many hands have been on that plastic? I could die from the germs on the wrappers alone.”

  “I had no idea I was taking my life in my own hands.” Mark shook a cheese Danish in Elijah’s direction. “You’ll be fine.”

  Ross suppressed a smile.

  “Dr. Reeves, please. I need my sanitizer.”

  It was an argument he wasn’t prepared to get in the middle of.

  “I can’t change Dr. Oliver’s orders, Elijah. I’m sorry.” He stared at Elijah’s flaky skin, imagining the pain of a bleach-induced full-body peel. “If Mark says Dr. Oliver forbids sanitizer, then I have to honor that.”

  “I can’t eat breakfast without it. Please,” Elijah begged.

  Joshua shushed him over his shoulder.

  Sophie rolled her eyes.

  Kendra stared, but her sightline seemed aimed more at Ross’s ass than the argument.

  Ross was dealing with a no-win situation. “I’ll discuss it with Dr. Oliver when he arrives.”

  Elijah looked on the verge of tears. “Mark, please. What am I supposed to do here?”

  “I can offer you a pair of disposable gloves. That’s meeting you halfway.”

  “Dr. Reeves, everyone sticks their hands in the box to grab gloves. This is ridiculous!” Elijah insisted.

  “Show Doc your hands,” Mark said. Elijah hesitated. “Go on. Show him.”

  Elijah uncrossed his arms and held out his hands.

  “That is nasty,” Kendra said, making a face.

  The freshly healing skin had blistered, several of the blisters having burst, some to the point of bleeding. Dried blood caked the spaces between Elijah’s fingers.

  “Okay.” Ross set down his coffee. “I agree with Dr. Oliver on this one. No more sanitizer. Mark, get Elijah an oral antihistamine and some cold compresses. Elijah, that’s contact dermatitis. If you want gloves, you can have them. I’ll even have Mark give you a brand new box to pull from.”

  “But—”

  “Gloves or nothing.”

  “Fine,” Elijah said, “but it has to be a new box.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Mark swiped his keycard and opened the door to a secure storage area at the end of the hallway. “I can handle grabbing a box of gloves.”

  “I know,” Ross said. “But—”

  “This about that favor?”

  Ross nodded. “I wouldn’t ask if there was anyone else.”

  “And you figure not turning me in to Dr. Oliver means maybe I owe you one?”

  “I’m not like that, Mark. You don’t owe me anything, but since you’ve been to Merrick Memorial, you’re the only one who can do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Get me Blake Wheeler’s hospital records.”

  “Oh, is that all?” Mark rolled his eyes. “What part of ‘restricted’ don’t you get?”

  “You said you knew someone at the hospital.”

  “I also said I couldn’t get any more information, but you didn’t seem to hear that part. Besides, I don’t know them, I met them.”

  “If you get in touch with this person, they could know someone willing to help, right?” Ross knew the privacy rules, but knew there was always someone willing to bend them. “This is basically a physician-to-physician discussion during the course of treating a patient. There are no rules about that—”

  “If you’re treating the same patient. Lila isn’t Blake, Doc. You know this.”

  “The only thing I know is, without the information, I’m sunk as far as Lila is concerned.”

  “I’m curious, what could be worth putting two jobs on the line, three if you count yours? Did Lila tell you something?”

  “You know better.”

  Mark’s eyes went wide. “Ruth Wheeler. You called the mother-in-law.”

  “I told you I had a feeling about her.”

  “And?” Mark waved for Ross to get to the juicy part. “If you want me to help you, spill it.”

  “Okay, fine. You want to know the big secret? Here it is: Lila pulled the plug on her husband.”

  “Really? I didn’t see that one coming.”

  “Me either. I have five weeks left with Lila and very little to go on. Can you help me or not?”

  “No promises, Doc, but if I were you, I’d make a personal plea. Track down Blake Wheeler’s admitting physician.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?”

  “I think you have bigger problems,” Mark said. “Turn around.”

  “What?”

  “Turn. Around.”

  Ross looked over his shoulder to see Guy heading straight for them.

  “I’m going to bring this box of gloves to Elijah. It looks like you have some explaining to do.”

  “Ross, in my office. Now,” Guy said.

  As much as Ross didn’t want to go, he knew he had no choice.

  He made the long walk downstairs, his heart pounding in his chest.

  Guy’s office was like a vacuum, sucking the air from Ross’s lungs.

  Guy sat at the edge of his chair, wearing his buttoned lab coat and a blue dress shirt, his elbows on his desk and his fingertips touching. His lips pressed together in a thin line that deepened the wrinkles in his face. “Where do we start?”

  Ross’s leg bounced up and down and his palms started to sweat. “I should have talked to you before I left yesterday. I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too.” Guy opened his hands. “If you had bothered to talk to me we could have straightened this out before now. I didn’t set ground rules, Ross. I trusted you to use good judgment and what did you do? You nearly let Lila drown. She could have been killed.”

  “I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”

  “And yet something did happen. I don’t know which is worse, the lack of precaution or the fact that you lied to me.”

  “I—”

  “Psychiatric patients are unpredictable, Ross. Had you said Lila went into the water, I’d have understood that. You went in after her and dragged her out. The fact that you tried to make it look like some kind of accident makes me not trust you. Lila told me it was all her fault. Why cover for her?”

  “I panicked.”

  “You played the odds she wasn’t going to say anything.”

  Ross would have denied it, if it weren’t true. “Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine, but that’s not the point. I’ve been trying to reach Dan all morning.”

  “Dan? Why?”

  “The lie was one thing. Forgivable, maybe, under the circumstances, but the call from Ruth Wheeler … I explained the situation to you, Ross. I need her.”

  “I was trying to do the right thing. You asked me to help Lila and I can’t do that if I don’t know her story.”

  Guy leaned back in his chair. “It’s too late. You know, I could have encouraged Dan to fire you. That would have freed you up to come here, too, but more than you being my former student, I thought we were friends. I’ll let you know if Dan says you’re clear to return early. It’s the best I can do.”

  “You’re sending me back to Chicago?”

  “I’m not sending you anywhere. You’re a grown man. I only want to see that Chicago is an option. It seems the right thing to do, all things considered.”

  “What about Lila?”

  “I really thought you could get through to her.”

  “I can. I was. She’s eating, isn’t she? And she talked to you. What more do you want? It’s only been two days.”

  “I’ll admit you made progress faster than I had expected.”

&
nbsp; “Then let me prove that I am on the right track.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “There’s more to Blake’s death than the shooting, something that explains why Lila feels guilty.”

  “Go on.”

  “What if I told you Lila had her husband removed from life support, maybe even unnecessarily?”

  “Then I’d tell you that you have a week to find out why. Consider it a probationary period.”

  “You won’t regret it.”

  “I had better not and, Ross,” Guy said as Ross stood to leave, “Keep Lila away from the water.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Seven days.

  Somehow Ross’s deadline kept shrinking.

  He had run every scenario with what little information he had, but without Lila’s cooperation, the missing pieces turned every possibility involving Dr. Jeremy Davis into a Movie of the Week.

  There was nothing to do but attempt brutal honesty.

  Walking into Lila’s room, Ross prepared to lay his cards on the table.

  Lila sat cross-legged in the center of her bed, a book open in front of her. The clothes she had worn into the lake hung from the edge of her bathroom door, misshapen from having dried there. Her shoes were caked with mud.

  “May I come in?” he said.

  Lila nodded, tucked her hair behind her right ear, and continued reading. Her eyes moved back and forth across the page, her lids shimmering with pearlescent shadow. A faint blush tinted her cheeks and her lips were painted a pale coral.

  Ross took a seat at her bedside. “Lila, will you put the book away? I have something to tell you.”

  Lila closed her book and looked up. Her straightened hair hung loose over her shoulders and framed her face, already showing the benefit of a few solid meals.

  “How are you doing today?”

  After what they had been through, he had hoped they were past the silent treatment.

  When Lila said nothing, he knew better.

  It was time for his ace in the hole.

  “Do you know why Dr. Oliver brought me here?” Ross’s chest tightened as he prepared to come clean. Lila held eye contact, which, from her, was as close to curiosity as he figured he was going to get. “My wife died.” It was easier to say after his night with Camille, but no less painful. “Dr. Oliver thinks I can help you because of what I went through.” Lila blinked twice, and drew in a breath. A long silence followed before Ross spoke again. “Aren’t you going to say something? I was nearly fired because of you.”