Inside Out (15 page)

She shook her head. “Lynn was so desperate to be normal. I mean, she wanted to have a man in her life, have the house with a picket fence, adopt a couple of kids. I felt for her. Hey, I want that stuff, too. But I would never have nominated Matt Slater for that role.”

“For starters, he was already married,” Nat commented in a deliberately light woman-to-woman mode.

“Yes.” Again she devoted her attention to her cup of tea. Something told Nat that Claire was able to identify so strongly with Lynn because the nurse was also coping with her own desperate attraction to a married man. In Claire’s case, Nat’s money was on Claire’s boss, Dr. Harrison Bell. Were Claire’s feelings recfprocated? Or were Bell’s attentions focused elsewhere? Like on Lynn Ingram? If that was the case, how would that affect Claire’s feelings about her friend and colleague Lynn?

How convenient that Claire had an alibi at the ready for yesterday. But not much of one. Unless she had someone who could corroborate her claim. Nat decided to leave that line of questioning to Leo.

“But then, men and women get divorced and remarried all the time,” she said instead.

“Yes, that’s true.” Claire was now examining her tea-stained and as-yet-untouched muffin.

“How would you describe Lynn’s relationship with Harrison Bell?”

“What do you mean? They’re colleagues. They have great respect for each other. Dr. Bell’s been there for Lynn throughout her whole ordeal. I think he felt partly responsible.”

“How’s that?”

Claire compressed her lips as if she hadn’t meant to let that comment slip out. “He referred Matthew Slater to Lynn for treatment. It’s ridiculous for him to have felt in any way responsible.

Why wouldn’t he have referred him? Slater was a patient just like hundreds of other patients—”

“Maybe he felt responsible for not stepping in when Lynn and Slater became romantically involved.”

“I don’t even know that he knew they were involved.” “Really?”

Claire’s agitation was mounting. “Well, he probably suspected.”

“Is it possible he was jealous?”

“What? What are you implying here?” Claire’s anxiety was now laced with indignation. “Dr. Bell is a happily married man.

v

Lynn was a colleague and, yes, I suppose, a friend. But that’s all it was. And is.”

Nat could see a wall drop down in front of Claire Fisher’s face. The nurse checked her watch. “My break’s up. I have to get back to work.”

Nat’s inmate clerk was filing reports in her outer office. He gave her a quick glance when she walked in, then returned to his task.

“I saw Detective Coscarelli’s car parked outside. Is he in my office?” She gestured toward her closed door.

“He’s . . . upstairs,” Paul mumbled, avoiding eye contact. They both knew outsiders, even cops, were supposed to restrict their contact with inmates to the main floor. That meant the visitors’ room, the dining room, Nat’s office, or one of the small private cubicles down the hall that were primarily used by inmates and their attorneys. To Nat’s knowledge, Leo had never met with Suzanne in her room. Maybe they were upstairs in one of the inmate lounges.

There were seven bedrooms on the two women’s floors. Two triples, three doubles, two singles. Allowing for a max of fourteen female inmates. The female inmate count, at the moment, was twelve. Not counting Lynn Ingram. Two more female inmates were due by the end of the week. Giving them a full count. Again, omitting Lynn. When she returned
—if
she returned—Nat would have to figure out a way to squeeze her back in. That was the least of her problems now.

Suzanne and Lynn had the double at the end of the hall on the third floor, across from a small lounge which consisted of a couple of worn but serviceable couches, a TV, a small fridge, microwave, and a pantry. Nat was more than a little dismayed to see that the space was empty.

The door to Suzanne’s room was closed shut. Nat hesitated outside the door, thinking,
Do I knock? Do I barge right in?

A wave of anger swept over her. She was the superintendent of this institution. She was not an intruder. She was not the one breaking the rules. She was not the one behaving inappropriately. Why, in God’s name, should she warn them of her arrival?

She didn’t exactly barge into the room, but neither did she knock first. She merely opened the door and stepped inside.

Suzanne and Leo were sitting on Suzanne’s bed. His arms were wrapped around her, and she was crying softly into his chest. Neither of them appeared to be aware of Nat’s arrival.

Nat’s first instinct was to make a hasty exit. Because, damn it, she did feel like an intruder. And that was not the only thing she was feeling. Add anger, despair, jealousy, betrayal, abandonment. Predictable emotions, the whole lot of them. And all too damn familiar. Only now they were even more intense.

It was not only that Leo was embracing the beautiful young mother of his child. It was also the look on his face. His eyes were closed and his expression—at least, Nat’s interpretation of his expression—was one of pained longing. In all the time she’d known Leo, Nat had never seen that mix of anguish and desire on his face.

As if finally sensing her presence, Leo’s eyes opened and he gazed straight at Nat. He didn’t look particularly surprised. Worse, he didn’t look particularly abashed. Nor did he make any attempt to break away from the embrace.

As for Suzanne, either she was still oblivious to Nat’s presence, or she simply didn’t care. Her crying, more a mewing sound now, continued unabated.

Without a word, Nat exited the room, leaving the door open. Her one concession to her anger.

“The hospital called,” Paul LaMotte informed Nat as soon as she reentered the office.    .

Moments ago, she had been lost in self-pity. Instantly her full attention was on Lynn Ingram.

Anticipating her question, Paul said, “The doc didn’t tell me anything.”

Nat was acutely aware of the tremor shooting down her spinal column.

“I’ll get her on the phone for you,” her clerk said.

She nodded and headed into her office, shutting the door behind her.

The instant the button on her phone went yellow, she snatched up the receiver.

“Dr. Madison?”

“She’s regained consciousness, Superintendent.”

Nat sank back against her chair. “Thank God,” she murmured.

There was a brief pause before Ellen Madison continued. “Lynn’s not out of the woods yet. Not by a long shot, I’m afraid. ”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s no guarantee she won’t slip back into a comatose state. If she remains stabilized over the next forty-eight hours, the picture will be a lot brighter. Of course, Lynn will still face continuing risks after that, given the number of reconstructive surgical procedures she’s going to need. But that’s down the road. We need to take it a day at a time. Today is a lot better than yesterday. ”

“Is she . . . aware of what happened to her?”

“I’ve given her a very sketchy overview. I doubt she’s taken it all in. Which is just as well. As superficial as I deliberately was, it’s still an awful lot to absorb at once. We’re dealing here with psychological trauma added to an already severe physical trauma. She’ll have plenty enough of that to cope with when she becomes aware of the devastating results of her injuries.”

“Has she said anything about the attack?”

“Lynn says she has no memory of the attack. Which is quite common in these kinds of trauma situations.”

“But the memory loss is temporary, right?”

Nat’s door opened. Leo walked in. Even as she tried to continue focusing solely on the doctor’s answer, she could feel her heart slam against her chest.

“It can be temporary,” Dr. Madison was saying. “But there’s no guarantee. And even if it is temporary, there’s no way to gauge how long it might take for her to remember. It could be days, weeks, months, even years.”

“I see,” Nat muttered, watching Leo close the door behind him.

“Don’t forget, also, Lynn’s on heavy-duty pain medication,” Madison added. “It’ll be several days before we have a clearer picture of her mental state.”

“Can I come over and see her?”

“I’d rather you waited until tomorrow.”

“First thing in the morning?”

“Check in with me first.”

The surgeon’s tone immediately brought back the doctor’s warning that Lynn could slip back into unconsciousness again. “Has anyone else called about Lynn’s current status?” “Harrison Bell called just before I phoned you.”

“You spoke to him personally?”

“Yes.” There was a brief pause. “Shouldn’t I have?” Dr. Madison asked cautiously.

“Did he ask to see her?”

“No. He already knows she’s not being allowed any visitors.” “Anyone else?”

“Her mother, who did ask if she could come in. I told her she’d have to contact the detective in charge of the investigation.” Nat was glad that Ruth Ingram had called and that she wanted to see her child. Would she tell her husband? Nat hoped not. After their little visit, Peter Ingram was going to be even more determined to see to it that his wife distanced herself from Lynn. Nat was also sure he’d be warning his wife, in no uncertain terms, not to cooperate with the police. Nat decided to phone her the next day when her husband was at work and see how far she could get with her.

“I almost forgot,” Dr. Madison said. “I also had a brief word with a priest who told me he’d counseled Lynn while she was in prison.”

“He phoned you?”

“No. Actually, he was at the hospital paying a call on one of his parishioners. He mentioned that he’d counseled Lynn a few times while she was in prison and asked how she was doing.” “What did you say?” Nat wasn’t thrilled with word spreading that Lynn had regained consciousness, as it might panic her assailant.

The physician must have picked up on the note of concern in Nat’s voice, because she quickly assured her she’d only told the priest Lynn’s condition was stable. “I did contact Dr. Varda’s service, though, and left a message for him,” Madison said. “I thought it was important to alert him. Lynn may want to speak to him once awareness of her condition begins to sink in.” “Right. Absolutely.” Nat wondered, however, how keen Varda would be to continue treating his patient after his own attack, the break-in at his apartment, and most especially that warning. Everyone, even shrinks—not to mention prison superintendents—had their limits. “Has he called back yet?”

“No. I only left the message for him twenty minutes ago. His service says he usually checks in around six
p.m.”

When she hung up, Nat relayed her conversation with the doctor to Leo. Her tone was flat, unemotional, perfunctory. What she wanted to do was throw something at him. Who was she kidding? If she wanted to throw anything at him, it was herself. She wanted to rush into his arms and have him hold her with the same aching desire he’d felt when he held Suzanne. “Natalie—”

Nat cut him off. She wasn’t ready to hear apologies. Or worse, to hear something that wasn’t an apology. “What about the mourners?” She was already beginning to mourn the loss of what she’d thought was a great relationship “Mourners?” Leo looked puzzled.

“The funeral Rodney Bartlett attended,” she said by way of enlightenment. “You were going to talk to—”

“Oh, right. Nothing solid yet. But we have a couple of people who don’t remember seeing Bartlett at the end of the funeral. And one who—” He stopped. “Are we going to talk about this, Natalie?”

“Your leads?”

He scowled. “Come on. You know I know you better than that.”

“And you know Suzanne even better than you know me,” she blurted, instantly regretting her remark. She was trying not to hit below the belt. Very unbecoming for a prison superintendent. Very demeaning for a woman who thought she’d possibly found the right man.

“Let’s go back to your place, heat up that Chinese, and talk.”

“I have other plans,” she said tightly.    *

“Bullshit.” He sank down into a chair across from her desk. His arms dropped straight down over the sides of the chair.

Nat’s heart was thumping too hard, anger having rapidly given way to panic.
Damn it, Leo. Just dump me and get it over with. For your sake as much as mine.

“I know how you’re feeling,” he said quietly. “No, that’s wrong. I know what I’d be feeling in your shoes.”

Nat wasn’t even sure these comments were a prelude to talking about Suzanne. She wasn’t sure of anything at the moment.

“And what’s that?” She heard the scratchiness in her voice, her throat having gone almost completely dry.

He stared at her unflinchingly. “Lots of things. But mostly . . . scared.”

As soon as he said it, she realized that was precisely what she was feeling most of all. The realization instantly brought tears to her eyes. But she rapidly blinked them away.

Now she was the one who wanted to pull back, to put off the inevitable. “I don’t think I can handle this now, Leo.”

“You think I’m having an easy time of it?” he shot back. “I’m not going to tell you she means nothing to me, Natalie.”

“I’m not asking you to tell me that.” Really, now she was thinking she didn’t want him to tell her anything. Because once he did, she was going to have to deal with it. And her plate was already on the verge of overflowing.

“She’s alone. She’s scared. She’s letting herself trust me. Just a little. But for Suzanne, even a little is saying something.”

Nat could cope with his listening to what Suzanne was feeling. Her problem was figuring out how to survive what Leo was feeling.

She got up, too fidgety to sit but not sure what to do once she was on her feet. For a woman who prided herself on being focused, organized, in control, she was slipping badly. “I knew this was a bad idea,” she muttered.

“What’s a bad idea?” Leo stood up as well.

“When Lynn was attacked, I told you we should cool it. You talked me out of it then. Don’t waste your breath trying to do it again.”

Leo sighed. She couldn’t tell if it was an expression of frustration, disappointment, relief. Probably a combination of all three.

He held her gaze for a few beats. She didn’t look away even though she wanted to.