SIX

WHILE Matt quickly left the building to “walk off” his frustration, Blanche stopped to talk with Detective Quinn. She spotted him in the corner of the marble lobby, finishing up a phone call.

“Why did you storm out like that?” Blanche demanded. “Why didn’t you try harder to set Dr. Lorca straight?”

“Because he holds all the cards.” Quinn rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “I just spoke with the hospital administrator. She told me Clare signed off on the doctor’s care, legally agreeing to Lorca’s isolation therapy.”

“I can’t believe she’d want that! Lorca obviously snake-charmed her.”

“Excuse me?”

“Look at the man. He’s tall, dark, and dreamy with adorable curly hair and an air of cool confidence. I’m sure he could sweet-talk any woman in Clare’s confused and vulnerable state.”

Quinn grimaced. “Whatever the reason, she agreed. It’s done.”

“You should have seen the opportunistic twinkle in Lorca’s eyes when he spoke of Clare as being a fascinating subject.” Blanche exhaled in disgust. “Subject of a new bestseller, most likely. And what exactly is this ‘cutting-edge’ drug therapy he’s convinced her to try? Is our Clare about to become Lorca’s personal lab rat?”

“I don’t know. But what we think doesn’t matter. As her physician, he’s in charge of Clare’s treatment—”

“Not if Clare requests a second opinion from another doctor.”

“She’s unlikely to, as long as he keeps her isolated from our influence. And if he deems Clare a danger to herself, then he’s prepared to make a case for legal commitment.”

“Why in the world did you get that man involved?”

Quinn blinked. “I didn’t. Lorca came to me. He said he heard about Clare’s case through a colleague at the hospital.”

“I see. Well, I stand corrected,” Blanche said. Then she paused and fixed a firm gaze on Quinn. “So what are we going to do now?”

“Pull every string we can. I’ve put in a call to the DA’s office, another to the chief of detectives. Maybe, if we’re lucky, the NYPD brass can use the witness angle to keep Clare in the city, even if she remains hospitalized.”

“There they are!”

“Oh, no,” Blanche whispered, hearing her granddaughter’s voice. Turning, she saw Joy Allegro pushing through the office building’s heavy glass doors.

Quinn frowned. “How much do we tell her?”

Joy waved excitedly as she hurried across the lobby. “Dad just texted me about the meeting. Why didn’t you let me know sooner? I would have come!”

Blanche shot Quinn a warning glance. Let me do the talking.

Sergeant Manny Franco followed his girlfriend with concern in his eyes. Shaved head gleaming in the afternoon sun, he unzipped his leather jacket, and then stood stoically watching Joy hug her grandmother.

“How did it go? What did the doctor say?” Joy’s voice was heartbreakingly hopeful. “Is Mom coming home today?”

“Not just yet, dear. The doctor doesn’t think she’s quite ready.”

“When can I see her again?”

“Not now. But soon.”

When young Franco exchanged glances with Detective Quinn, Blanche knew the boy had a hunch they weren’t telling Joy the whole truth. Thank goodness the young man trusted his boss’s grim silence and didn’t ask questions.

As Joy’s lips quivered and her eyes pooled with fearful tears, Blanche pulled her close. “No need to cry. The doctor told me that your mother is in perfect health and that everyone is very optimistic that she will be herself again.”

“I want to see her!”

“We all do, but for now all we can do is be patient.”

Joy swiped her wet cheeks with the sleeve of her jacket. “I feel so helpless. Isn’t there anything I can do?”

“You can live your life,” Blanche firmly advised. “Your mother is no longer missing. She’s returned, and she’s physically fine. We can all be thankful for that. In the meantime, you must go back to Washington—”

“No!”

“Yes. You have work to do. The Village Blend, DC, needs its manager. That’s what your mother would tell you if she were here. That’s what our Clare would want.”

Blanche faced Franco. “My boy, why don’t you drive Joy down to Washington? I don’t want her to fly back all alone. Leave tonight—make it a pleasant road trip. Try to enjoy your time together. Maybe stay the weekend, too.”

Franco glanced at Quinn, who nodded.

“Do as the lady says. The OD Squad owes you plenty of downtime. Get Joy settled and come back when you’re ready.”

“I’ll call with updates,” Blanche assured Joy in a farewell hug. “You’ll see your mother soon. I guarantee it.”

But even as she made the promise, Blanche wasn’t sure how she could possibly keep it. Detective Quinn wasn’t a fount of optimism, either. As Blanche watched Franco and Joy cross Broadway and head toward Central Park, Quinn checked his phone and cursed.

“The chief of detective’s office should have called me back by now.” Quinn tucked the phone into his lapel pocket. “I’m going to One Police Plaza to force a face-to-face with him.”

Blanche squeezed his arm. “Good luck, Michael.”

To her surprise, Quinn managed a weak smile. “It’s not over yet. I’ll stop by the coffeehouse soon with an update. I promise.”