CHAPTER NINETEEN
The rising sun blinded Jack as he eased up his driveway back at home. It was Saturday morning. He had been at the hospital all night, the nursing supervisor having called him at midnight with the horrifying news that a patient on the step-down unit had just committed suicide. Rushing into town, he’d arrived at the same time as Chad’s mother and sister.
Rolling to a stop near the garage, he killed the engine and leaned back against the headrest, his eyes feeling gritty. It didn’t look like anyone was stirring in the house. Over the past several years, he’d gotten to know Chad well and admired how he’d struggled through a disability, glad his brother had found such a friend. Now that was all gone, and what happened didn’t make any sense.
There was something he must do before he could rest. Walking out to the barn, he picked up a handful of gravel and threw it into the woods, the pebbles spattering against leaves and branches. As he climbed the stairs to Tony’s apartment, he remembered for some reason the way Zellie used to smile as she lay with eyes closed after making love. His heart twisted through multiple layers of grief.
An hour or so later—he was starting to lose track of time—Jack trudged from the barn to the house and entered by the side door. The kitchen was empty, but the smell of coffee told him Zoë was up and about. He poured a cup. Zoë came down the hallway wearing her blue housecoat, eyes puffy, a wad of tissue in her hand. Before leaving for the hospital last night, he’d told her.
“I still can’t believe it,” she said, slumping into a chair at the table. “You talked with Tony? Is he all right?”
Jack gave her shoulder a squeeze. “It was like when our parents died. He just withdraws into himself. Back then he didn’t talk or show emotion for about two weeks. Then he got weepy, and that lasted a month.”
“Poor man. They were like brothers.”
“The suicide angle was tough. Tony couldn’t believe it.”
She shook her head and sighed. “Did you have to break the news to Chad’s family too?”
“Yes.” He saw motion in the hallway. It was Kaitlyn, still in pajamas.
“What did you say about suicide?” she asked timidly.
“Come here, honey,” said Zoë.
“What’s the matter?” she said, pulling out a chair. Its legs screeched against the floor. “What happened?”
Zoë took Kaitlyn’s hand and told her.
“No,” Kaitlyn said, her lip quivering. “I just saw him yesterday. He was getting better. Why would he do that?” Tears came. “Why didn’t he say something to me?”
As Zoë hugged her, Jack looked over at the key hook on the wall by the kitchen door and he relived it—Zellie calling to him, asking him if she could take his car, him distracted and not remembering why she shouldn’t.
“Does Uncle Tony know yet?” Kaitlyn asked.
“Yes,” Jack replied.
“This will be terrible for him. I feel so bad.”
Jack was startled by the chiming of his cell phone. It was Tré. “I’ve got to take this.” He strode away from the table and answered.
“Chief, I assume you know what happened at the hospital last night. The suicide.”
“I’ve been there most of the night.”
“Have you seen the news yet?”
“No.”
“It’s not good.” His words tumbling out, Tré described that all the national news outlets were running it as a headline story. Hospital approved a shaman ritual study that drives a patient to commit suicide. “I don’t know how it got out already, sir, but it’s moving like a California wildfire. I don’t know what we can do.”
Jack felt the blood draining from his face. He saw Julia come padding through the kitchen and over to the table. “Let me gather my thoughts,” he told Tré. After hanging up, he returned to the table. Julia was sitting on Kaitlyn’s lap, crying. He sagged into the chair.
“Jack, what’s wrong?” said Zoë.
“Daddy, why couldn’t you save Chad?”
“Shush,” Zoë said. “Daddy’s tired. He didn’t have a chance to help Chad. If he could have, he would have saved him.”
“I should go over and see how Uncle Tony’s doing,” said Kaitlyn. Moving Julia off her lap, she started to rise.
Jack cleared his throat loudly. “No,” he said. “He just needs to be alone now.”
She froze, staring at him. “But he must be really hurting.”
“I think I know what my brother needs.”
The room went silent. Kaitlyn’s face reddened. Julia stood next to her, staring.
“You’re wrong, Jack,” Zoë said. “I think Tony might appreciate her company.”
Kaitlyn rose. “That’s all right. Don’t worry about it.”
“Come back,” Zoë said. “Where are you going?”
“To my room. I’ve got to get ready anyway. Like I told you last night, I’m going over to Aishia’s house. They’ll be here to pick me up.” She strode down the hallway and disappeared.
“That was uncalled for, Jack,” Zoë said, glaring at him. “Why did you say that?”
Jack didn’t have time to respond. His phone chimed again. Feeling the throb of a headache coming on, he looked at the phone. Jan Cummings. The headache blossomed. “Excuse me again.” He went into his home office and shut the door before answering. “I was just about to call you, Jan.”
“I should damn well hope so. This completely blindsided me. Why didn’t you call me last night?”
“I should have.”
“I don’t mean to sound like a heartless bitch, but I’m the president of a university whose medical center is about to be dragged through a huge steaming pile of shit. You should have called me immediately. We’ve had no time to get ahead of it.”
Jack felt as if someone had reached down his throat and yanked out his heart.
“Are you still there?” she continued.
“Yes.”
“I’m calling a meeting for ten a.m. with all the necessary people, including Damien Falconi. I’ve already talked to him. He’s rattled. We can only hope this doesn’t scare him off.”
“I’ll be there.”
“And one more thing—not that it makes any difference—but I’d like to know who the son of a bitch was that alerted the media.” The connection went dead.
In the kitchen, Julia was sitting on Zoë’s lap. “Daddy, why were you mean to Kaitlyn?”
Trying to keep his voice gentle, he said, “I’m not trying to be mean, sweetie. I just think Uncle Tony wants to be alone.”
“I’m really going to miss Kaitlyn when she goes.”
Jack looked at Zoë. “This is what I was worried about. Attachments developing. The pain of separation.”
Zoë frowned at him. “For God’s sake, what do you expect? Kaitlyn’s a fine person. There should be attachments.”
“This is not about Kaitlyn.”
“Well it should be. I really don’t understand you.”
He felt his jaw tightening. “This shouldn’t be a mystery. Kaitlyn is just a guest here.”
“No. She is family.”
“And for that matter, you’re a guest here too,” he said.
“Are you asking me to leave?”
He sighed. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”
She looked away, her eyes glistening.
“Aunt Zoë, you’re not going to leave, are you?” Julia said, a sob in her voice.
Zoë blew her nose. “No, sweetheart. I’m not. Your father is just tired.”