KATE FOUND A PARKING space, retrieved her ring from the glove compartment and slipped it on. She tucked the pepper spray Palmer had given her into her coat pocket and tried not to slip on the icy cobblestones as she made her way toward the building.
She rode the elevator to the eighth floor and fumbled with her keys. Her stomach was in free-fall as she unlocked the door. “James?” she called out.
He met her in the hallway in his wool coat and boots. He kissed her hello.
“Sorry I worried you yesterday,” she said.
“No, the important thing is you’re okay.”
“Can we talk?”
“I was just leaving. I have to consult with Mom’s doctors again. They’re worried about blood clots now. And she’s reporting numbness and tingling.”
“Oh God. How can I help?”
“Come by later on and see her. That’ll cheer her up.”
“Absolutely.”
“Look, Kate.” James took her hand. “I want you to be happy, not scared and stressed out, and I think digging into your sister’s murder is bad for you. But I support whatever you think is best. I just don’t know how to deal with it sometimes.”
Kate squeezed his hand. “We’ll talk later, when your mother’s feeling better.”
He gave her a long hug and left.
Hours later, and bone-tired, she nibbled on a salad and changed for bed. She’d driven to Massachusetts General to visit Vanessa, and back again—alone. James, concerned about deep vein thrombosis, had opted to stay with his mother, while Kate had come home and worked her way through a mass of paperwork. Now she traced her fingers over the small scars on her upper thighs and forearms—little teardrop dimples, tiny nicks in an otherwise smooth surface. She recalled the stab of the thumb tacks, and the accompanying numbness. Cutting herself was like walking into a much clearer reality. She studied the jagged suicide scars on her wrists, the hesitation cuts. She remembered the crackle and snap of pain as the razor sank into her flesh. She had survived all this—she could survive whatever was coming.
* * *
Kate woke up in the middle of the night with a start. She glanced at her clock. 3:00 AM. It was windy outside, the bulk of winter hunkering against the panes. An unfathomable loneliness crawled underneath her skin.
She picked up her phone from the bedside table and saw that she had a voicemail from Palmer Dyson. “Greetings from sunny Tijuana. Lousy flight. Crappy airplane food. How are you doing? Call me when you get this. The operation’s tomorrow.”
She had no idea what time it was down in Mexico. She called him and got through to his voicemail. “Hey, it’s Kate. Sunny Tijuana sounds pretty good right about now—it’s like five below here, I think. Anyway, good luck tomorrow. Call me after the operation.” She hung up and closed her eyes.
It seemed like only seconds later that the phone rang in her ear.
It was Ira. “Sorry to wake you,” he said.
She sat up in bed and peered out the window. The rising sun was hidden behind a few scraggly electric-pink clouds.
“No problem,” she said groggily. “What’s up?”
“Maddie Ward has been cleared for release. She’ll be in foster care later today. I thought you should know.”
“What’s the rush?”
“Her insurance plan was twelve days max. So it was either this, or go the residential route. And you know how I feel about that.”
“Right,” she agreed. Throwing a teenage girl who cut herself into an institution full of violent juvenile offenders was not an option.
“Anyway, Ursula found a terrific foster family willing to take in a child with Maddie’s history of instability. No small feat. They have an excellent track record. We had to act quickly.”
“You had no choice, right?”
“We got lucky. Anyway. Maddie’s been asking about you. Her foster family is picking her up at ten, and I was wondering if you’d like to swing by this morning and say goodbye. A purely non-professional visit.”
“I’ll be there at nine o’clock.”
“Good.”
* * *
It was a beautiful day out, the sky an azure blue. The drive into Boston was a breeze. The Children’s Psych Unit was bustling with clowns—volunteers in greasepaint who handed out balloons and scared some of the younger kids. The teenagers rolled their eyes at the magic tricks but always asked the nurses when the clowns would be back.
Kate found Maddie huddled in her room, lost in thought. She wore a pink T-shirt, blue sweatpants, and a brand-new pair of Nikes; the nurses must’ve passed the collection plate around again. Kate reminded herself to chip in. Maddie’s bags were all packed, and her pink quilted coat was folded up beside her. She was ready to go—physically at least.
“Good morning,” Kate said.
Maddie smiled brightly. “You’re back! I wondered where you’d gone.”
Kate pulled up a chair. “How are you feeling today?”
“Okay, I guess. The police came to visit me on Friday. They asked me all sorts of questions.” Maddie unzipped her backpack and took out a battered photo album with a white embossed cover that said MEMORIES on the front in sequins. She opened the album and smoothed her hands across the transparent sleeves. “They brought it from home. They thought it might help me remember stuff.” She showed Kate Maddie as a baby, Maddie as a toddler, Derrick and Nelly Ward as newlyweds. She turned a page. “That’s me when I was six.”
Kate studied the photograph. Maddie and Savannah could’ve been twins.
“And look. Here’s Uncle Henry and Mommy.”
Henry Blackwood wrapped a possessive arm around skinny fifteen-year-old Penny. The teenager seemed both proud and cowed. Without his baseball cap, Blackwood’s blond buzz cut with its distinctive widow’s peak was on full display. He had striking green eyes, just like Savannah and Maddie. In Kate’s memory, that baseball cap had always shaded his eyes, hidden his golden hair. But in the picture, Kate could plainly see where Savannah and Maddie had gotten their looks—from their father.
“I had a dream last night,” Maddie confessed, stuffing the photo album into her backpack. “Mom was driving me to school, when all of a sudden we went into the ocean, and the car started filling up with water, and we nearly drowned.”
“Wow. Sounds scary.”
“I woke up before it ended though.”
“What do you think it means?”
She shrugged. “I nearly drowned in the bathtub a bunch of times. Same as my dream.”
Kate blinked. “I’m sorry—what do you mean?”
“In the bathtub. Mommy sometimes held my head underwater until I almost drowned, but she let me go before I died. Once it was snowing, and we were coming home from the supermarket…”
“Is this another dream?”
“No. It really happened. We came home, and I was helping her bring the groceries in from the car, when I slipped on some ice and a bunch of eggs broke. She said that I disgusted her. She called me stupid. My stomach hurt so bad, because I knew what was coming. She had that look in her eyes.”
“What look?”
“Daddy told me not to worry. Said it would blow over, but it never did. He didn’t get it, because he was hardly ever at home.”
“What happened when she got that look in her eyes, Maddie?”
“She would fill the tub with water and make it so I couldn’t get away. Then she’d hold my head underwater, until it felt like I was going to die. But then, she’d let me go at the very last second.”
Kate hadn’t suspected Nelly Ward, although it made sense. The abused often became the abuser. “Are you saying your mother tried to drown you? More than once?”
“Lots of times,” Maddie admitted softly.
“Did you tell the police this?”
She shook her head. “They didn’t ask.”
“Did you tell Dr. Ira?”
“Not yet.”
“And your stepfather knows? He knows your mother tried to drown you?”
Maddie shook her head again. “No. He doesn’t know anything.”
“But you said he pushed you once, remember?”
“He doesn’t know about Mommy. He wouldn’t hurt me. He loves me.”
“Did she do anything else? Hurt you in any other way?”
She nodded solemnly. “I don’t feel so hot.”
“But your stepfather doesn’t hurt you, right? Only your mother did?”
“He’d kill her if he found out, Mommy said. She told me not to tell a soul.”
It struck Kate hard.
Maddie rested her hands on her stomach. “I don’t feel good.”
“Thanks for telling me this, Maddie. It took a lot of courage.”
The girl began to tremble. “When am I going to see my dad?”
“The police are still looking for him.”
“Can I see him when they find him?”
“I don’t know what the procedure is, but I’ll look into it.”
Maddie nodded, apparently satisfied.
“I want you to understand one thing. You’re going to be okay.”
Maddie peered skeptically up at Kate. “How do you know that?”
Kate decided to level with her. She would tell the girl the truth, even though it meant she’d be effectively removing any chance of treating Maddie as a patient again. But the girl was in good hands with Ira.
“How do I know?” Kate rolled up her sleeves. “I used to cut myself, too. And I’m okay.”
Maddie stared at the old scars. “What did you use?”
“Tacks. Pins. Razor blades. Scissors. Anything I could find.”
“Did you hear voices?”
“No.” Kate rolled down her sleeves.
Maddie sat up straighter.
“That voice in your head? It’s not the devil, or a monster, or anything like that. The voice comes from your subconscious. It’s a coping mechanism. When someone in your life, even somebody you care about, starts treating you badly, it creates an echo chamber inside your head. None of it is true, and once you understand where the voice is coming from, it’s much easier to ignore. And once you ignore it, it fades away.”
Maddie nodded thoughtfully. “Am I ever going to see you again?”
“I’m sure I’ll see you around. You’ll be continuing therapy with Dr. Ira on an outpatient basis.”
A slow smile spread across Maddie’s face. She reached into her backpack and took out a brand-new cell phone. “Look what Ursula gave me. It’s from my foster family. They all have one. Cool, huh?”
“Awesome.”
“Look. My weather app says more snow.” She showed Kate the screen. “Can we trade numbers?”
“Good idea,” Kate said, and they took turns inputting their contact information.
“Hey. Can we take a selfie?” Maddie asked excitedly.
They posed. “Smile!” Click.
“I’ll text it to you,” Maddie said. Kate’s phone buzzed, and they looked at the picture together—both of them smiling.
There was a knock on the door, and Ursula O’Keefe, the hospital social worker, poked her head inside.
“Sorry. Did I interrupt?”
“No, we were just saying goodbye,” Kate said.
“All packed?” Ursula asked, and Maddie grabbed her coat and backpack and hopped off the bed.
Maddie flung herself into Kate’s arms. “See you soon.” She clung.
Kate gently broke the embrace. “Just remember. It’s only echoes.”
Maddie smiled bravely. “Echoes.”
“Well, young lady. Time to meet your new foster family,” Ursula said. “I hear they have a dog named Winnie the Poodle…”
Maddie giggled, and Kate watched them walk away together.