The summer downpour smacked against the windows in the hospital guest waiting area at the same time as my phone rang.
Mom.
Make it stop, I thought. Just for a little while let me worry about one life at a time. I could have gone down to the room, but I was fresh out of the emotional endurance it required to get up from the armchair, walk down the hall, and face her judgment or whatever was the Mom du jour.
“Hi, Mom,” I said, wary about what she might have to say.
“It started raining,” she said. “Is it raining where you are?”
“Mm, must be raining all over,” I said, looking out at the same sky she must be looking at. “How are you holding up?”
There was a pause before she answered with a little tremor I’d never noticed before, “Not real well, Brigid. I’m feeling a little blue. You’re the only person who’s come to visit, willingly, that is. Sitting here so much, I’ve been thinking about how not even the priest at our church knows my name.”
That was code for I forgive you. Before I asked for it. There was something different in her voice, a tone more vulnerable and yet more brave in its frankness, not like Martyr Mom at all. She spoke as if to a contemporary rather than a child, which made her voice all right.
“It’s hard to keep going, isn’t it?” I said.
“Yes. It is.”
“Is Dad still on track to go home tomorrow?”
“I’m not so sure now. He doesn’t look as good today. The doctor looked a little concerned when he stopped by. He’s off having some tests run. But so far he didn’t say Dad had to go back to ICU, or even stay here. Things are up in the air, and I’ve made arrangements to put him in the Canopy for a while.”
The Canopy was the area of their assisted living facility where people got extra attention.
I said, “That’s smart. It will be a little less stressful for you, too, not having to do all the work taking care of him.” I didn’t offer to stay and do it, but she didn’t hint at my neglect the way she might have in the past.
She said, “I was thinking about Todd just now, and how hard I’ve always been on him. Even when he was taking care of Marylin all those years. How did he do it?”
“He loved her.”
“And I don’t. Your father, I mean.” She didn’t sound defensive. It was more as if she was truly asking for corroboration of her own feelings.
“He’s a hard man to love,” I said. “But listen, he’s tough. He’s going to get through this, and you’ll have to tolerate him for a good ten years more.”
“You might think that’s a comfort. But it’s especially hard when the choice is a good ten years for him or a good ten years for me.” Pause. “I shouldn’t have said that, should I?”
I didn’t know what to say. There were so many things in life where you didn’t get to choose.
“Are you still there?” Mom asked.
“Sure I am. Mom, I—”
“When will you be coming by?”
I couldn’t admit now that I was just down the hall.
“I’m in the car on my way. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes or so. I’ll spring you for early dinner.”
“I’d like that. Drive carefully, it’s raining harder here.”
* * *
I told Mom we could go wherever she wanted, but she opted for Boston Market. The most I could do was get her to drink a glass of wine. There was no huge thing with Mom, no bringing up of past or recent grievances, just a sane and gentle conversation about how she appreciated me being there, how much longer I’d be staying, and would I help to bring Dad home on the morrow. I spent the evening at her place again, and stepped out into the hall when my phone rang.
Finally, Laura. And it was not for a friendly chat.
“Where have you been?” I started.
“Your brother called and asked me to come into the office.”
I waited. So did she. Both of us trying to determine what the other knew.
“When?”
“This evening. This evening? I get the urgency of the situation and all but, seriously, does he think I’m naïve?”
“What did he say, exactly?” I hedged.
“Exactly, he said he wanted to talk to me because I know more than anyone else who had investigated people connected with the Creightons.”
This was it. Once she entered that office, without an attorney, she could get herself into all kinds of trouble that even a fully seasoned professional couldn’t foresee. She was super smart, but Todd had a good twenty years of experience on her. Now, did I stand with my brother on the side of law and order, or did I stand with someone I owed my life to?
“Did he mention Alison Samuels?” I asked.
“No. What’s she got to do with it?”
You threatened to kill her, I thought. And then someone nearly did.
“When was the last time you saw her?” I asked.
“The night Marcus was executed. You were there. Why are you asking me this?”
“You’ve got a GPS in your car, right?”
She knew why I was asking. “Yes, but it doesn’t automatically record where I’ve been.” She laughed one of those laughs that isn’t funny. “I can’t use it as an alibi.”
Then I decided. “Don’t go see Todd just yet,” I said.
“No shit. I’m not stupid, and I know a setup. But I was taken off guard and agreed to go.”
“Get a flat tire. Tell him you’ll go tomorrow. Contact Will Hench and make him go with you. And just remember, people don’t mean to do things. Things get out of control. Accidents happen.”
I heard a soft gasp. “How did I get here?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Sure you do. I’m a suspect in Shayna Murry’s murder, and I can tell you knew it.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” I said. “It probably wasn’t murder. Accidental manslaughter. No one uses a stun gun as a murder weapon; it’s not guaranteed effective.”
“They might if they don’t want the bullets traced,” she said bitterly. Then she hung up on me and wouldn’t answer the phone after that. I figured she wouldn’t let me into her apartment either. I took a sleeping pill with a shot of Dad’s bourbon because I suspected the next day I’d have to be on my game.