“What hospital?”
Nat’s office door opened. Jack popped his head in. He heard her last question. Opening the door fully, he immediately stepped inside, his hand gripping the doorknob—waiting, lines of concern creasing his naturally furrowed brow.
“Boston General.”
“And the police?”
“There are two detectives here. I would have called you sooner, but there were all these questions—”
“I’ll be right over.” Nat hung up the phone and jumped from her chair. But a sudden rush of dizziness slammed her back down. Jack rushed to her side. Nat could feel his anxiety overriding hers, enough so that she could tell him what had happened. Which amounted to very little information.
“I’ll go,” he said.
Bilt Nat was back on her feet. Not exactly steady, but less wobbly. “You can drive.”
By the time she got into Jack’s car, anger mixed with guilt had supplanted her panic.
Lynn Ingram was still in the operating room when they got up to the ICU. She’d been under for a little more than ninety minutes, and there was no indication of how much longer it would be. All they knew was that her status was still listed as critical. “They” included Dr. Harrison Bell, Leo Coscarelli, his partner Mitchell Oates, Jack Dwyer, and Nat. They’d been granted use of the doctors’ lounge just inside the ICU. After quick introductions, they all fell into a holding pattern.
Of the five of them, Harrison Bell was the only one seated and the one visibly having the toughest time. Nat had met the anesthesiologist on a couple of occasions prior to this afternoon, recalling him as a pleasant-looking, tidy man in his early forties. Now Bell’s face was puffy, the tip of his nose red, his dark brown hair tousled, his gray slacks dirt-smudged, his pale blue shirt and gray sports jacket rumpled and spattered with blood. Lynn Ingram’s blood.
Oates leaned closer to Coscarelli, said something out of Nat’s earshot, then exited the lounge.
Leo walked over to Bell, dropped down onto the orange molded plastic seat beside the doctor. “We may have some more questions for you later.”
Bell nodded grimly. “You’ve got my home number as well as my office. Anything I can do.”
“You staying here for a while?” Leo asked him.
*
“Yes,” Bell said without hesitation. “I’ve had my nurse cancel all of my afternoon appointments. Claire’s very upset about Lynn. Everyone at the clinic is horrified. Lynn was very well liked.”
Leo rested a hand on the doctor’s shoulder. “Don’t count her out yet.” .
Tears clouded Bell’s eyes. He hung his head.
Jack Dwyer and Nat were watching this interchange with interest. Then Jack caught Nat’s eye. Nat knew how her astute deputy’s mind worked. He was thinking that the good doctor’s use of the past tense—
“Lynn
was
well liked
”—might have been a slip of the tongue. The same thought had crossed Nat’s mind. No doubt Leo’s as well. And if it was a slip, it could have been wishful thinking. Because if she pulled through, Lynn Ingram might well be able to identify her attacker.
Nat followed Leo as he headed out of the lounge, noticing before she exited that Jack had taken the chair just vacated by Leo.
Leo gave the nod to a uniformed cop stationed in the hallway. He had ordered a round-the-clock watch on Lynn. They were all worried that her assailant might make an attempt to finish off what he’d started.
“Well?” Nat asked Leo as soon as they passed the cop. He motioned for her to follow him out the electronic swinging doors that separated the ICU wing from the rest of the seventh floor. Once they got beyond those doors, Leo stopped, looked around. The area was empty. Then he looked at Nat, but he was still not saying anything.
Nat felt his stare as a silent accusation. She’d asked for this. She was the one who’d adamantly dismissed everyone’s-—including Leo’s—arguments about the dangers of approving Lynn Ingram’s transfer to Horizon House
“I know you’re beating yourself up, Natalie,” Leo said finally, putting his hand gently on her arm. “Don’t. This didn’t happen to her at Horizon House. It happened on the street. And even if you hadn’t okayed her transfer and she’d remained at Grafton, what happened to her today could just as well have happened five months from now. After her release from Grafton.”
The physical contact, more than Leo’s words, soothed her a little. “Do you have any leads?”
“We don’t have much yet. No weapon so far. Our best guess, given the nature of the wounds, is some kind of hunting knife. We’ve got a couple of our people canvassing the neighborhood. Oates is going back to the pain clinic to get statements from staff and get names of patients who were there at the time. CSI is going over the alley and that Dumpster with a fine-toothed comb. It doesn’t help that Bell disrupted the crime scene when he moved Ingram. But if he hadn’t, we’d most likely be dealing with a homicide right now.”
Nat swallowed hard. “We still may.”
“I want to talk to Ingram’s shrink. I’m hoping she told him something that will provide us with a lead.”
“I doubt you’ll get anything out of him,” she said. “He’s a by-the-books psychiatrist. Which means he’ll uphold confidentiality to the bitter end.” She shivered as she said this, realizing how close Lynn Ingram
was
to the bitter end.
“We’ll get a court order, if it comes to that,” Leo said. He put his arm around her. “I’ll be coming over later.”
“I’ll probably get home late.”
“I meant to Horizon House.”
“Oh-” Nat nodded. “You need to talk to Suzanne.”
He removed his arm, put his hands in the pockets of his blue jacket.
“They’ve been rooming together at the center. They’ve reestablished their friendship.” He hesitated. “I think Suzanne’s going to take this hard.”
Nat said nothing, inwardly hating herself for the flash of jealousy she felt over his wanting to be there to comfort his child’s mother. As soon as Suzanne entered Horizon House, Nat should have cooled things with Leo. She knew damn well it could become an untenable situation. Nat was competing with one of her charges for the affections of a man who had been sexually and emotionally intimate with both of them. Maybe now was the time to step out of the competition. Maybe Leo would be relieved if she did.
“She may know something, Natalie.”
“What?” Nat was already feeling the ache of separation. Was it only after deciding to break it off that she could allow herself to admit just how much Leo Coscarelli had come to mean to her?
“I think we should talk to her together.” He cocked his head, observing Nat closely. He had this knack for reading people. Her especially. “Lynn may have shared some information with Suzanne that could help us. At least give us some direction. Right now, we’ve got zip to go on.” He checked his watch. “Suzanne’s due back from work around six, right?”
“Yeah.” Meanwhile, Nat’s mind was busy backpedaling.
Never make personal decisions in the heat of a crisis,
she was thinking. And this certainly qualified as a crisis. Okay, so she was giving herself a temporary reprieve.
SIX
Fifty-two percent of male-to-female transsexuals admit to having been victims of violent crime—this is in the corhmunity at large. These are vidnerable people even without the stresses of transition and the isolatioti of prison life.
Gender Identity Study
JACK DWYER WAS alone in the ICU lounge, still seated in the same molded chair, when Nat returned.
“Any update on Lynn?”
He shook his head.
“Where’s Bell?” she asked.
“Men’s room. Been there awhile. Bad case of the runs.” “That can happen when you’re upset.”
“Or when you’re scared shitless.”
She sat down beside Jack. “Did you learn anything useful from him?”
Jack scowled, his hard-edged features sharpening. “Something
about that doc.” He glanced over at the doorway to make sure Bell wasn’t on his way back in. “I think he had the hots for Ingram. Maybe going back a long time. Like when she was first working for him. He visited her at Grafton. They wrote back and forth. I’d like to get a gander at some of his letters. ”
“He was on the phone with his wife while she was being attacked.”
“So he says.”
“It’s easily verified.”
“She wouldn’t be the first wife to verify a husband’s lie.”
, “Even if her husband was cheating on her?”
He eyed Nat in a disquieting way. A silent reminder that she had willingly lied for her husband during the Walsh investigation, even when Ethan had already left her for another woman. Even though her lie could have affected the outcome of a murder case.
What we won’t do for love.
Or was it,
What we won’t do to delude ourselves?
“We can’t dismiss the attacks on Lynn at Grafton,” Nat said, eager to change the focus of the discussion. “There could be a connection. A corrections officer who had today off, or called in sick, or quit the job. An inmate who’s out on parole.” “Possible,” Jack admitted begrudgingly.
They both looked up nervously as a middle-aged woman in a white lab coat entered the lounge. She gave them both a formal nod. “I’m Dr. Ellen Madison. Ms. Ingram is out of surgery.” “Will she pull through?” Nat asked anxiously.
“She’s suffered multiple knife wounds and a massive loss of blood. The next forty-eight hours will be crucial. If she does make it, she’s going to need extensive reconstructive surgery.” The doctor hesitated. “To her face, her breasts, and her pubic region. I’m not a detective, but I would say that these areas appear to have been the assailant’s deliberate targets. There were some other superficial cuts to the patient’s extremities, but I believe those were acquired in her attempts to stave off the attack. ” “All frontal cuts. So she must have seen her assailant,” Nat said.
“It would seem that way.”
“Do you know that she’s a transsexual?” Jack asked. Madison nodded. “Dr. Bell informed us when she was brought in.”
“Is she conscious?” Nat asked. “Can I talk to her?”
“No, to both,” the doctor said firmly.
“When—?”
“Not for another twenty-four hours, at the very earliest. I’m sure you realize that the psychological ramifications resulting from her facial and bodily disfigurement are likely to be quite severe. Is Ms. Ingram currently under any psychiatric care?” “Yes. She’s being treated by Dr. Ross Varda. He’s with the Department of Corrections—”
“I strongly suggest he be present if and when you are able to speak with Ms. Ingram.”
The “if” rang in Nat’s head.
A death knell.
“You’ve already heard?” Leo watched Suzanne closely.
She nodded. “One of the salesgirls caught it on the news on her way home. She drove back to the store to . . . tell me.” She brushed her hair from her face. Nat could detect the tremor in her hand. “Is she going to make it?”
“It’s touch and go,” Nat said.
“Sit down, Suzanne.” Leo made the request.
Nat was already seated behind her desk. Leo, who was standing, waited for Suzanne to take a seat across from Nat, then he took occupancy of the chair beside her.
“What can you tell us that might help us find out who did this to Lynn?” Leo asked. His tone was gentle.
“How do you know it wasn’t some random act? Some lunatic who spotted a ... a beautiful woman he’d never seen before, and ...” Suzanne looked down at the floor.
“We’re not ruling out any possibilities,” Leo said.
“Lynn likes you, Suzanne,” Nat broke in. “I presume you like her.”
v
Suzanne’s head popped up. “I like her well enough. But I can’t help you. She didn’t say anything to me.”
“Nothing?” Nat gave the word a distinctly sardonic note.
Suzanne turned to Leo. “You know what I mean.”
“How did Lynn seem to you these past few days?” he asked.
Suzanne shrugged. “Fine. She was . . . happy. She loved her job. She loved being out of that. . . that cage. She never griped about any of the rules here. Most of us count the days until we’re on the street. . . full-time, but Lynn just kind of took each day as a blessing.” Her hand went up to her face. Her fingers pressed into her eyes in an attempt to stem the tears threatening to spill out.
It was clear to Nat that Suzanne Holden cared more about Lynn Ingram than she was saying.
“Did Lynn ever talk about her boss, Harrison Bell?” Leo asked.
Suzanne seemed surprised by the question. “Bell? She says he’s brilliant. You don’t think . . . ?” The tip of her tongue darted nervously over her bottom lip.
“Lynn was horribly disfigured. Even if she pulls through, it’s going to be a nightmare for her,” Nat said, ignoring Leo’s scowl at her bluntness.
Suzanne shut her eyes. And then, as if the images playing in her mind proved too disturbing, she opened them quickly.
“I don’t know who did it,” she said hoarsely. “I swear I don’t.”
Nat could see beads of sweat forming above Suzanne’s lip line. She also saw Leo place a comforting hand on the inmate’s shoulder. Nat tried not to let this get to her. But, of course, it did.
“I need a cigarette,” Suzanne said with an addict’s note of desperation in her voice. She gave Leo a pleading look.
“Go outside and have your smoke,” Nat said. There was no smoking in the building, but there was a porch in front of the building where inmates and staff could light up.
Leo was not happy with Nat. He wasn’t ready to dismiss Suzanne. But Suzanne was more than ready. She was on her feet and making a beeline for the door practically before the words were out of Nat’s mouth.
As soon as the door closed behind Suzanne, Leo was on Nat’s case. “Why the hell did you do that, Natalie? She was just starting to—”
“Starting to come unglued,” she finished for him. There was a bite in her voice, matching the bite in Leo’s.
“She knows something,” he said, his scowl etched across his brow.
“Of course she does. She knows plenty. She’s also scared.”
“She knows me well enough to know I’d never put her at risk.”
“How well is that?”
Leo didn’t look so much angry as disappointed.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be working this case, Leo. There’s a real conflict of interest here.”