A Fatal Debt (22 page)

“I’ll say this, Ben,” he said when he stopped. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a client like you. No offense, but I’m kind of hoping I never do again. You’ve done all this stuff that I can hardly credit and I’m sure a judge wouldn’t. Amazingly, while you’re doing it, you dig up new evidence and now you won’t tell me what it is.”

“I
can’t
,” I said. “It would be malpractice.”

“Right,” he said, deadpan. “Like those malpractice charges you’ll face when you’re subpoenaed to testify at Shapiro’s trial by Baer and your boss decides she’s not going to protect you. That sort of malpractice?”

“Is that what Baer said he’d do?” I said dumbly.

“Pretty much. I’m your attorney, although just at the moment I’m wondering why, so let me lay out the options as simply as I can. Either you do what Baer wants, which is to tell him about what happened
at the hospital and out there at Shapiro’s house, or he’s not only going to make you testify at the trial, but he’s going to make you look as bad as you looked just now in front of the grand jury. Meanwhile, the only way you’ll keep your job is if you tell Baer to take a hike. It’s your choice.”

He looked at me almost fondly as he said it, as if both exasperated and impressed by how I’d landed in such a mess.
That must have taken some doing
, his expression seemed to say. His mood was lighter, as if he’d progressed beyond despair into acceptance that his client was indefensible.

“As my lawyer, what would you advise?” I said.

“My advice?” Joe said. “Find another lawyer.”

J
oe’s mood must have been infectious because I slept soundly, and when I woke in the morning, my subconscious had already decided for me. I was tired of keeping secrets, of covering things up out of duty and cowardice. I’d made a mistake with Harry, one that might cost me my job, but I wasn’t prepared to shield him any longer, and nor would I protect Duncan. I’d go to Baer and tell him everything—the gun Nora had brought to the ER, the pressure Duncan had put on me, and what Harry had said to me on the beach. I’d tell him that Harry was a murderer.

As I stepped from the shower I felt relieved, as if a burden that I’d been carrying for weeks had just been lifted. My job was to keep people’s secrets, but Harry had used it against me and I wouldn’t let him anymore. I didn’t know why he’d killed Greene, but that was
Baer’s job to discover, not mine.
I’ll be a whistle-blower
, I thought, and that sounded better than being a fraud. I hummed cheerfully over breakfast, and when it was done, I picked up the phone to make some appointments.

My first stop was the Shapiros’ apartment, and as I rode in the elevator, I wondered if Anna was going to be there.
I don’t care
, I thought.
She’s Harry’s servant and she can suffer the consequences
. When I arrived at the thirty-seventh floor, I composed my face for her—mimicking the glare she’d worn when I’d last seen her—but I softened my expression as the door opened on Nora. This was going to be the hardest meeting. I no longer cared about offending Harry, but I still felt for her. She hadn’t done anything wrong, just tried to care for her husband, and she wasn’t going to like what I was about to say.

“Anna’s out at the house cleaning up, so it’s just me here. Come through,” she said, smiling. “Can I get you something?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” I said briskly.

We walked to her study. It was a sunny morning and I caught a glimpse of Central Park through a window, the soft green blanket of the solid tops of trees stretching toward Harlem, with the line of Fifth Avenue on the far side. It was like sitting in an aircraft and seeing the clouds below—that lofty, detached sensation.

“There’s something I want to ask,” I said as we sat. “Steven Baer, the prosecutor in your husband’s case, called me to testify before a grand jury yesterday. He asked me some difficult questions. He knew a lot about my treatment of Mr. Shapiro after I discharged him—that I’d been flown to East Hampton after visiting my father.”

Nora looked puzzled. “There wasn’t anything wrong with that, was there? I wanted to help.”

“Of course, and I’m grateful, but it doesn’t look good now. You didn’t tell the detectives about it, did you?”

Her mouth opened in shock. If she had been the informant, she was doing as good a job of concealing the truth as Lauren.

“Absolutely not. That would be a terrible thing to do. You believe me, don’t you?” she said, holding a hand to her mouth.

I nodded. “I’m sorry. I needed to be sure.”

I believed her. It wasn’t merely that she seemed innocent. It wouldn’t be good for Harry’s defense to make it look as if he’d manipulated me into letting him out of Episcopal in order to murder Greene. Their lawyer would have briefed her not to volunteer information, just as Joe had briefed me. Nora had done all she could to fulfill Harry’s wishes and had landed me in trouble, but she’d had no reason to betray me.

“Did you speak to Sarah?” Nora said. “Will she help?”

She looked at me eagerly, and I was touched that she cared. She was already embroiled in a desperate effort to save Harry from the disasters into which he’d arrogantly plunged himself, from the failure of his bank to Greene’s death. I wanted to reassure her, but I’d be helping her husband out if I did.

“I don’t think that will make any difference now. I’m likely to lose my license no matter what she does.”

“No!” Nora exclaimed, placing her hand on mine as she’d done in the psych ER at our first meeting. “That’s terrible. After everything you did for Harry, it would be so wrong for you to suffer.”

“Would it?” I said. “I let your husband go and he murdered Mr. Greene. I’d have said I didn’t do my job.”

The word
murdered
seemed to strike Nora like a body blow. She leaned forward in her chair and I saw the distress in her eyes as she stared at me. It was as if I’d spoken in a foreign tongue and she was struggling to understand.

“How can you say that?” she cried. “You treated him. You saw the state he was in. Harry didn’t murder Marcus. He didn’t know what he was doing.”

I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my legs with my hands clasped. I didn’t want to distress her further, but I believed she ought to listen for her own good. There were things I couldn’t tell her about Harry’s behavior—Lauren was now my patient—but I wouldn’t lie about what I thought of him. If Harry went to jail for murder, I didn’t want Nora to pine for the rest of her life.

“Mrs. Shapiro,” I said slowly, “everything I’ve learned since the killing has convinced me I misdiagnosed him. I don’t believe he was ever in danger of suicide. He’d always meant to kill Mr. Greene. That’s why he had the gun.”

“No. No. I don’t believe that,” she said, standing and gripping her right elbow with her left hand. “I’ll never believe that. You’re wrong, Doctor. I thought that you understood Harry, but you don’t. You never will.”

As she stood there, I felt ashamed. I’d rushed up there eager to tell her the truth, but the person I should have been confronting was Harry himself, not his wife. It wasn’t her fault that he’d fooled her. What had come over me, acting like an avenger to a woman whose life was already shattered?

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “You’re right. I don’t know your husband as well as you. I think I should leave now.”

Her eyes were closed and she stood rigidly, her muscles tensed, as if still tortured by my outburst. Finally, she relaxed slightly and sat down again, looking more desolate than I’d ever known her, even in her study in East Hampton.

“Perhaps you should,” she said.

She stayed seated as I walked out of the study and unlatched the front door to let myself out. The last sight I had of her was with her hands folded in her lap, gazing blankly at a bright acrylic, no doubt million-dollar, painting.

Once I’d endured the usual wait, Duncan appeared and beckoned me through. I’d never noticed personal touches in her office before, but as I sat down, I saw two photos framed by her desk. One was of a hulk holding an oar and the other of a teenager in braces.

“Yours?” I said, pointing at them.

“Louisa’s mine. That big guy is my stepson. He’s at Stanford,” she said. “You haven’t got children, have you?”

“Not even a wife, I’m afraid.”

There was a pause as we both smiled formally. I realized that she knew that already from having read my personnel file. There was nothing I could tell her about myself in small talk that she didn’t already know. That didn’t bother me, because I’d kept other things from her and was about to bring her up to date. After my shame at the way I’d confronted Nora, this was light relief. I didn’t care about upsetting Duncan.

“You asked to see me?” she said.

“I did. I wanted to let you know that I’ve thought over what you suggested when we last met, and I have an answer.”

“Which is?” she said icily, as if she didn’t appreciate me playing games. She wanted only silent obedience.

“No,” I said.

“No what?”

“No, I’m not going to keep quiet. It’s too late for that. I’ve informed the Suffolk County ADA about what happened when Mr. Shapiro was admitted to Episcopal and why I came to discharge him. I testified yesterday to a grand jury.”

“You did
what
?” Duncan said incredulously.

“Testified to a grand jury. In Riverhead.”

“What?”

She was all but gasping. Her face had turned puce with shock, and I was happy to have stunned her, even temporarily. She walked to the window with a view of the Queensboro Bridge, standing motionless as if she needed time to think. Then she recovered her bearings, and the rush of surprise turned to a blast of anger.

“This is the first I’ve heard of a grand jury, and you testify without even telling me? What the hell did you say?”

I savored that moment, for I had her fate in my hands and she had to wait for me to tell her. The truth was that I hadn’t told Baer about how she’d forced me to discharge Harry because he hadn’t asked. But I’d already made up my mind that when he did that, I would. I’d ceased to care about Duncan—nothing she did could save me.

“I’m under oath to keep my evidence confidential.”

That was childish, I admit—that’s what the subpoena said, but I could easily have told her if I’d wanted to or if I’d trusted her. Duncan naturally believed I wasn’t telling her because I’d implicated her.

“Dr. Cowper,” she said, “we talked about the importance of sticking together, that the hospital would stand behind you. It seems you have betrayed my trust.”

I’d done pretty well to keep my temper during all of our interactions, I thought, but that made me lose control.

“I didn’t ask to treat Mr. Shapiro. You were the one who wanted me to do it. My mistake was obeying you.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said firmly, looking down and pretending to smooth an invisible wrinkle in her skirt.

“Bullshit. You pressured me from the start to do what the Shapiros wanted and then you tried to keep it quiet.”

She stared at me as if unable to understand why I could be behaving this way:
Why won’t he do what I say? What’s wrong with him?
I didn’t fully understand that myself. All I knew was that I felt better for having defied her.

“All right, if you wish to destroy your career out of stubbornness, there is nothing I can do to prevent it. You may have relayed some fantasy to the grand jury about how you behaved and why. When the time comes, I will protect this institution by telling the truth.”

The purest rage I’ve ever felt erupted inside me. How dared she lecture me about the truth when she’d blatantly lied?

“You’ve never told the truth. You don’t even know the meaning of the word,” I shouted at her.

Duncan ignored my outburst. She walked to her desk and flicked a file shut as if it wasn’t any of my business anymore. In that moment, I knew that although I’d had some fun, I couldn’t defeat her. She ran this place, and Nora wouldn’t make her save me now that I’d turned on Harry. Episcopal would cast me aside just as Seligman had discarded him—the institution would protect itself.

“I await your resignation,” she said.

I hadn’t talked to Rebecca since she’d fixed my skull. I’d seen her in the distance in the hospital hallways, talking to someone or rushing somewhere, a blur of green scrubs and blue cap. Once I’d thought she’d noticed me from the corner of her eye and had turned to avoid a meeting. She finally turned up just after I’d left Duncan and was standing in my office, tallying how many boxes it would take to hold my possessions.

“Hey, you,” she said.

I turned, scanning her face again. Memory is strange: When someone we love leaves for a while, the image fades. Only when they depart forever is it etched permanently in the mind. I can picture my mother’s face more vividly than my father’s.

“Hey,” I said, half pondering a kiss on her cheek but not moving, a safe yard between us. The last time I’d seen her I’d been strapped to a gurney, but this time I had an awkward amount of freedom. “I’m sorting things out.”

“I can see that. You’re really shaking things up in here,” she said, sounding amused. “How’s that head of yours?”