seventy-six

The morning after the party, Danny sat beside Zoe on plastic chairs in the psych ward’s waiting area. He was used to the hospital’s institutional drabness and chaos, its coating of sickness that stuck to every surface. Sadly, the hospital was his new normal.

Several patients lounged along with the visitors, and veranda doors led to a courtyard where more patients smoked. Beside him, Zoe’s usual good cheer struggled for ascendance. “He will be okay, won’t he?” she said.

“I don’t know.”

She opened her purse, pulled out a hairband and gathered her hair back into a loose ponytail. “Poor Merrit. What a party disaster last night.”

Danny suspected that the drama had fired up the party atmosphere rather than doused it. In any case, no one was likely to forget Liam’s Earrach Festival.

“Liam looked good, don’t you think?” Zoe said.

He glanced at her. “I hear you have something to do with that.”

“Oh. Liam told you?”

“No, Merrit.”

“Does everyone know?” she said. “I don’t like to talk about it.”

Interesting that she brought up the Liam topic then. “Your secret is safe,” he said.

“It’s awkward at times. I have to be careful.”

“I imagine so, or else everyone would be after you to fix them up.”

She smiled. “You’re humoring me. I know it when I hear it.”

They waited in silence for a while. Danny couldn’t help thinking about Ellen in Ward 2B on the other end of the hospital. She laid there insensate, but who knew what electrical pulses fired within her head. Nathan, on the other hand, felt too much, but likewise, who knew what went on inside his head.

“Zoe Tate?” A harried-looking woman in navy blue trousers and horn-rimmed glasses perched on the tip of her nose introduced herself as Brenda and waved at them to follow her. She led the way to her office without looking back and got to the point after closing the door. “Given your father’s history and the assault on you—”

“That doesn’t matter,” Zoe said. “He shouldn’t be punished for that.”

“Nevertheless, because of that, he’s on a mandatory twenty-four-
hour hold. Our initial assessment is that he’s a danger to himself and others.” She stared Zoe down with a hint of judgment playing across her face. “He’s not a well man and hasn’t been for a while now.”

“I know,” Zoe said, “but I thought I could manage it. I thought once we settled into a routine and he got used to me again, we’d be fine. I hadn’t seen him in years. I missed him.”

“I’m not sure how long we’ll have him, but for today, we need to keep him quiet and away from all stressors.”

“Me.” Zoe’s eyes filled with tears. “You mean me.”

“Yes.” This woman didn’t flinch from the hard messages. Danny could take lessons from her when it came to his kids.

“When can I take him home?” Zoe asked.

“We need to monitor him, and then we’ll make a decision about how long to keep him.”

“You mean, he might be committed for a while—months, even? Years? Forever?”

Brenda treated Zoe to a pitying expression. “Not forever.”

On a shaky breath, Zoe pressed fingers against closed eyelids. A moment later, she excused herself to find the toilets. Danny opened his mouth, but the doctor preempted him. “Let her go. It’s a lot to process. You’re the officer who witnessed Nathan Tate attack her?”

He nodded, about to ask his question, but she waved a hand at him to hold off. “Please describe what you witnessed.”

Danny related the events, including Sid’s presence.

“Sid,” she said. “That’s one word that makes sense out of his gibberish anyhow. Do you know anything about a journal?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Danny said. “A murder victim that both Sid and Nathan knew kept one. It’s gone missing.”

“Ah. Apparently this Sid character promised to give it to Nathan.”

“He did, did he? By the way, you may have heard of Sid. His full name is Cedric Gibson.” She flinched; so she did recognize his name. Danny continued, “Yes, him. He goes by Sid. He spoke to Nathan, and whatever he said broke him.”

“The proverbial straw, the proverbial camel. It wouldn’t have taken much.” Brenda retreated behind her desk. “What did you want to ask?”

“Did Nathan know what he was doing when he attacked Zoe?”

“That’s easy—no. He wasn’t sane, and he may not be sane for a long while to come.” She sat down. “That’s my gut talking, based on long, hard years of experience.”

“And I’ll have to wait for the official report. I’ve heard that before.”

She issued a lopsided smile. “Tell the daughter to call before she comes next time. We’ll know more tomorrow.”

A knock interrupted them, and a man with bushy hair popped his head into the room. “Sorry to interrupt. Someone reported a lass in the toilets crying and screaming. You know anything about that?”

“I expect I do,” Brenda sighed. “I’ll see to it.”

“No, this is on me,” Danny said.

Zoe was no longer inside the women’s public toilet by the time Danny reached it. He found her out in the courtyard, hunched under a canopy out of the rain. Her ponytail sagged. “I don’t know what to do. What am I supposed to do? I need my dad. They’re keeping me from him on purpose.”

Her woebegone expression surprised Danny. Gone was the self-sufficient, feisty young woman without a care in the world. “You’ve done well for yourself.”

“No, no, no, I’m supposed to have a dad of my own, not be on my own. I’m sick to death of living by myself.” She straightened and tightened her ponytail. “I’ll be fine. Don’t mind me.”

Danny considered her, the budding healer with daddy issues. Her smudged makeup made her violet-blue eyes more luminous. Her tantrum in the bathroom may have been a healthy blow-off of excess emotion. Nothing wrong with that, but still, her reaction intrigued him.

He checked his watch. Morning visiting hours ended in an hour. “We should go,” he said, “but first I want to stop by my wife’s room.”

Zoe looked up with a hopeful expression. “I can come, too?”

Bloody hell yes, that was the point, he thought. To continue their conversation—plus, observe how she reacted to Ellen.

He led the way along various corridors and up the stairs toward Ward 2B. Danny directed them left when they arrived at the top of the steps. They arrived at Ellen’s room only to be told by a nurse to give her a few minutes to finish Ellen’s sponge bath. Zoe craned her neck to see inside the room. The door closed.

“What do you suppose your friend Sid said to your dad to make him turn on you?” Danny said.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Zoe sat down on one of the chairs that lined the corridor. “What could he have said? He’s a nothing. My dad met him once for three minutes.”

“Do you know where he’s staying?”

“He mentioned Ballyhinch House. That’s all I know.” Zoe moved on to the next thought, having dismissed Sid as inconsequential. She opened her yellow purse and dug out a hand mirror. She gazed at herself and gasped in mock dismay. “I can’t see your wife looking like this. That’s not the way to show respect.”

“I don’t think she’ll care.” Danny paced restlessly, now questioning why he’d brought Zoe here.

She produced baby wipes out of her bag and dabbed at the skin under her eyes. “I’m sure Ellen is still in her body and that she can hear us. She’s stuck and needs help, that’s all.”

Danny stopped pacing.

“I was sincere before,” Zoe said, “when I offered to help your wife.”

He watched her reapply her makeup, noting that she chose softer colors than those she’d worn for the party. He could tell himself that he’d brought Zoe here to further the investigation, that this was a ploy to open her up. Yes, he could, but the tension gathering in his chest told him otherwise.

If he were to believe in Liam’s miracle recovery from cancer, Danny might still have a chance to tell the children about another resurrection. Didn’t he owe it to Ellen to try?

Zoe swiped on some lip gloss and packed her makeup pouch back into her purse. “I’m ready now.”

A few minutes later, the door to Ellen’s room opened and the nurse left. Danny let Zoe enter first. She pulled up a chair and sat down. “She’s so helpless,” she said.

Danny stood at the end of the bed, breathing in the scent of antiseptic hospital soap. “It’s sad for the kids not having a mother around. You know how that is.”

“I do, though I’m a daddy’s girl. Isn’t your daughter a daddy’s girl?”

Danny had never thought of Mandy that way. “Maybe, I don’t know, but kids—daughters—need their moms.”

Zoe didn’t respond.

“They miss their mom as I’m sure you missed yours.”

“I’d rather not talk about my mom,” she said. “You can’t heal the dead.”

“But you tried, didn’t you?” Nathan had told Danny that Zoe attempted to heal Susannah after her fall down the stairs.

Zoe ignored that comment. “My dad is still alive, though.” She placed her hand near Ellen’s. “I need him, you see. I’ve always needed him, and it wasn’t fair that they took him away from me. I don’t want that to happen again.” She brushed her fingers down Ellen’s arm. “Can you help me?”

“How do you mean?”

“You can talk to people—that horrible woman in the psych ward, your Garda contacts. Help my dad. Last time they kept him for two years—two years!”

“He needs professional help, and besides, you overestimate my influence.”

She stood. “I’m sad for him. And for myself, if I’m honest. Can we go now, please?”

“What about Ellen?” he said.

“Maybe when I’m in a better mood.”

Danny let out a slow breath. She was a sham, an utter sham who messed with people’s heads for jollies. He lingered a moment while Zoe waited in the corridor. He picked up Ellen’s antique silver hairbrush and ran its soft bristles through her hair. “It would be nice to believe in miracles, wouldn’t it?”