The exam room, bright and airy, was as typical as any Lee had seen, with the notable exception of the president of the United States standing in a corner, talking on his specially encrypted cell phone. Karen, along with Lapham and Duffy, hung back in the waiting room. This was a private family matter.
Lee inventoried the array of ultramodern medical equipment: all the essentials, including integrated diagnostic systems, instruments for checking vital signs, an ECG machine, and defibrillators were on hand. Various medications and medical supplies were neatly arranged inside tall, glass-fronted cabinets.
Cam Hilliard, perched on the vinyl cushion of a durable exam table, sported a glum expression. He used the sleeve of his blue dress shirt to clean grime off his wire-rimmed glasses. He reminded Lee a little of Harry Potter. He did not look anything like his father, but Lee could certainly see his mother in him.
A man in his late forties sat on a rolling exam stool not far from Cam. He was athletically built, with brown hair cut to military standards. He had a prominent nose, and for someone with a five o’clock shadow, quite a youthful face.
Lee guessed this was Dr. Gleason and got confirmation when he saw the stitched monogram on the right pocket of his lab coat. Affixed to the left pocket was the seal of the president. No doubt about it, the White House was big on branding.
The president ended his call and came over to Lee with the practiced smile of someone expert at glad-handing. Lee could not help being a bit starstruck. It was the president, after all.
President Hilliard, who was shorter than his wife by two inches or so, had a presence Lee found magnetic and energizing. Nevertheless, the aging effect of the White House was impossible to ignore. Hilliard’s dark hair, balding from the front, featured brush strokes of gray not present when he first took office. The lines on his face were more deeply set, and his brown eyes no longer sparkled when he smiled. Hilliard had been a bit of a jock at Yale—baseball and crew—and his powerful jaw and well-muscled physique kept him from looking beaten down by the rigors of his job.
“Dr. Blackwood, thank you for being here,” the president said, his voice a bit plummy, all trace of his Baltimore accent well disguised. Born and raised in a blue-collar neighborhood in Baltimore, Hilliard often referred to his hardscrabble upbringing in his speeches, but critics noted he had done little to lift former friends and neighbors out of the economic doldrums. Speeches were easy—governing was hard.
“It’s my honor, Mr. President,” Lee said, giving Hilliard’s hand a firm shake.
“I’m sorry to bring you here without notice,” the president said. “But Ellen convinced me we needed to take immediate action. Karen tells me you have a son together, former military, I understand.”
“That’s right,” Lee said. “Josh was an Army Ranger. Did three tours in Afghanistan. Now he’s a ski instructor in Colorado. Quite the shift.”
“Please tell him the president thanks him for his service.”
“I’ll be sure to give him that message,” Lee said. “I know he’ll appreciate your gratitude.”
“Speaking as fathers, then,” Hilliard said. “I assume we can count on your discretion here. This is a rather—well, delicate situation.” The president glanced briefly at Cam.
Dr. Gleason took that as his cue to come over and shake Lee’s hand. It was a fishy handshake, weak and limp, the first unmilitary thing about him.
“Dr. Blackwood, we appreciate you being here.” Gleason did not sound like he meant it. “I’m glad to have your counsel. I want to do everything I can to help ease the concerns of the president and Mrs. Hilliard.”
Lee had a pretty good BS meter, honed from years of dealing with patients lying to him about their health habits. His was pinging loudly. Gleason wanted Lee here as much as he wanted the flu.
“I’m happy to be another set of eyes,” said Lee, addressing Cam directly. The boy kept his head down.
Lee moved away from the president and Dr. Gleason so he could focus on Cam. He was not here for some meet-and-greet, after all; he had a job to do.
“Hey there, Cam, my name is Dr. Lee Blackwood. I’m Karen’s former husband. Your parents thought it might be a good idea if I talked to you about what’s going on.”
Lee spoke to Cam the way he would any new patient. Cam flashed his father a withering look.
“What Dr. Gleason isn’t saying is that you’re wasting your time,” Cam said in a low voice. “Everyone’s mind is already made up.”
“Made up their minds about what?” Lee asked. “I don’t even know your symptoms.”
Ellen approached from behind and placed her hands on her son’s shoulders, but Cam remained sullen and silent.
“Sweetheart, please talk to Dr. Blackwood. Tell him what you told us.”
“Why bother?” he said, his voice still low. “I’m not depressed, but you all think I am.”
“It seems we’re at a bit of an impasse,” Ellen said, exasperation evident, her face betraying the strain.
Dr. Gleason stepped forward. “If it’s all right with the president and Mrs. Hilliard, I’d like Cam to step into the waiting room for a moment so we could speak privately.”
“That’s fine,” the president said. “Cam, give us a second, will you please? We have to talk about you.”
The president’s attempt at levity seemed utterly lost on Cam, who slipped off the table and slunk to the waiting room.
Dr. Gleason waited for the door to close before he spoke. “I’ll start us off, if I may.”
The president nodded.
“This past year Cam has become increasingly withdrawn. He’s apathetic, moody, irritable, and it wouldn’t be a stretch to say he shows signs of clinical depression. Recently there was an incident with a water glass, which Karen witnessed.”
Gleason gave a brief explanation of the incident, though Lee sensed details were missing. He was curious to learn more from Karen or Cam.
“There’s nothing physically wrong with Cam,” Dr. Gleason continued. “And I’m happy to show you the charts. But as you can well imagine, the White House is not an easy environment for a child. No offense, Dr. Blackwood, but it’s my belief—and before Karen inserted herself into the situation, the belief of Cam’s parents as well—that he would benefit from seeing a psychiatrist, not a—family doctor.” Gleason said “family doctor” as if the words were “country bumpkin.”
Lee said, “Thank you for the information, and no offense taken.” He noted the icy stare Ellen gave Gleason.
“What Dr. Gleason has left out,” Ellen said, “what Karen has convinced me of, is that we want a second opinion from someone who is not affiliated with the White House, someone with no prior relationship to Cam. I don’t want to drag him to a psychiatrist. The process has to be collaborative. We just want another point of view. If Cam was to hear the opinion of someone from outside the White House it might make him more receptive to receiving the help we believe he needs. Isn’t that right, Geoffrey?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
The president moved next to his wife. The president’s edginess made it obvious he wanted Lee’s involvement over with quickly, and for Cam to move on with treatment for depression. Lee felt even better about voting for the other guy.
“What do you think, Dr. Blackwood?” Ellen asked.
“I think I’m happy to do an exam, but my conclusions might not support your hypothesis,” Lee warned. “I’m obligated to form my own opinions. If you’re in agreement with that, I think we should bring Cam back in here.”
A moment later, Cam strolled into the exam room, his gaze on the floor.
Lee rolled over a metal stool, lowered it a bit, and sat down. Up on the exam table, Cam had the height advantage—the power position.
“Why don’t you tell me in your own words what’s going on?”
Lee tried to sound encouraging, but Cam remained tight-lipped.
“I wouldn’t talk to me either, if I were you,” said Lee eventually, speaking in an almost conspiratorial tone. In a whispered voice, loud enough for all to hear, he added, “Usually when I do a physical exam, there isn’t an audience present.”
Cam almost cracked a smile.
Lee glanced at the president, next over to Gleason, and lastly to Ellen Hilliard. “What if Cam and I spoke alone for a bit?” Lee was addressing Ellen, his advocate. “I’ll do my usual exam, and we can talk after that. Does that sound good to you, Cam?”
Cam returned a half shrug to go along with his half smile. Ellen sent Lee a look of quiet gratitude.
“Yeah, I guess,” Cam said.
“Mr. President, Mrs. Hilliard, are you all right with this as well?” Lee asked.
President Hilliard spoke for them both. “Yes, that would fine. Thank you, Dr. Blackwood.”
Dr. Gleason said nothing at all.