"You're still concerned about her and the baby, their interactions, I mean?" I said.
"I don't know if I am or I'm not. But I have found myself thinking once or twice about Caroline Hallissey's assessment. Long and short of it, I figure there's no harm having her attending physician down here order up another twenty-four-hour sitter." He cleared his throat. "Chances are, this was a fluke. It happens. I've had patients look like they were about to code, then bounce back and never have another problem."
"Or it might not be a fluke," I said, half to myself.
"There are lots of medications that can suppress your breathing," Karlstein said. "Ativan. Klonopin. They're all commonly prescribed to people with depression." By which he meant Julia. "We'll grab a toxic screen of Tess's blood, just to be on the safe side."
"That's the right thing to do," I said.
"I knew you'd see it that way, Doc. Check in, any time," Karlstein said. "I'm hoping to be out of here in a few, so I'll let the house officer know to fill you in on any changes. You on beeper?"
"Sure am," I said.
"You're the man," he said.
We hung up. I didn't like the fact that Julia had left the unit just before Tess had run into respiratory trouble. Karlstein obviously didn't like it, either. But there wasn't any clear reason-let alone evidence-to believe the two events were causally linked. At least not yet. The toxic screen would show any new prescription medication in Tess's bloodstream.
Less than two minutes later, the buzzer at the front door sounded. I walked over to the intercom. "Hello?" I said. I hit the listen button.
"Sorry I'm late," Julia said. "Still have time for me?"
"You know I do," I said. I let her in.
When she walked into the apartment, Julia seemed more relaxed than I had ever seen her, which I took to mean she hadn't heard about Tess and probably hadn't heard about Billy being arrested, either. I was anything but relaxed myself. I didn't linger with her at the door. "Can I get you coffee? A drink?" I asked, walking toward the kitchen.
She strolled through the loft, stopping in front of the plate-glass windows. The Boston skyline shone before her.
"Anything?" I asked again.
She turned slowly around. She looked like a goddess against the night sky. "Just take me to bed, okay?" she said, in a tired, needy way that, even under the circumstances, had me thinking about helping her out of her clothes.
I studied her for any sign of anxiety. There was none. Was it even remotely possible that she was fresh from trying to kill her daughter? "We need to talk," I said.
She took a deep breath and sat down at the edge of the mattress. "I've told you everything about North there is to tell," she said. "Go ahead, ask away."
"It isn't about North," I said. I walked over to her and, like a reflex, like there was no question of maintaining any real distance, held out my hand. She took it. I nodded toward the couch. "Let's sit."
The mother in Julia must have read the part of my mind that was preoccupied with Tess's difficulty breathing-unless she already knew about it, having caused it. "Is something wrong at the hospital?" she said.
"Not anymore," I said. "Everything's fine." I helped her up and guided her to the couch. We sat down close to one another.
"Something's happened," she said, her voice straining. "What? Tell me."
"Things are fine. I called looking for you on the Telemetry unit. I ended up talking to Dr. Karlstein."
"Doctor-"
"He was there because Tess had had some trouble breathing."
Her head fell into her hands. "Is she all right?"
"She is," I said definitively. "Her breathing is completely back to normal."
"I'm going there right now," she said. "Will you drive me?"
"Hold on. She's fine. Really." I moved my hand to her knee and felt my own breathing quicken. Strange. With all the fires burning around us, the energy between us still felt the most incendiary. "Give me a minute to finish," I said.
Julia's panicked eyes searched my face. "Oh, God. You're not telling me everything."
"It's not about Tess," I said. I paused. "They found Billy. He was at LaGuardia, waiting for a flight to Miami."
She let out a sigh of relief. "At least he's safe."
"They're bringing him to the Suffolk County House of Corrections, in Boston. I'll see him there tomorrow morning."
She shook her head. "He shouldn't have to spend a single day in a place like that," she said. "He's innocent. I'm sure of it now."
I took back my hand, nodding to myself.
Julia looked at me with concern. "What else could be wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing," I said. A sigh that escaped me said otherwise. "I had a chance to call Marion Eisenstadt," I said.
She stared at me a few moments. "You're kidding."
"You can tell me if that letter wasn't written to her," I said.
"I can't believe you actually bothered her with this. Behind my back."
"She told me you've had four or five sessions together. That's all she'd say."
"She didn't tell you about the letters?" Julia asked.
Was she bluffing? "She wouldn't," I said. "Not without a written release of information from you." I let that not-so-subtle hint hang in the air.
"You want me to sign some form to let you look at my psychiatric records, to prove I haven't been fucking someone else? Are you joking?"
"I just want you to be honest with me. I want you to know that you can be."
She shook her head in frustration. Her eyes filled up.
"If that letter was written to someone else, I have to talk to that person, as part of the investigation. I can't let it-"
She looked back at me, a new anger in her eyes chasing away any hint of sadness. "That's right. You can't let it go. You can't let go of the past and let us have a life together. You'll see phantom lovers of mine everywhere you turn. Because jealousy doesn't take any courage. Acceptance does. Loving someone does. And you can't really love anybody."
I pressed ahead, even though Julia's diagnosis of me gave me pause. "It's still hard to understand how after four or five…"
"It's not my job to convince you of anything," she said. "You'll believe what you want." She stood up. "This is foolishness. We're foolishness. I need to be with my daughter."
I wasn't at all sure I wanted her to leave-the apartment or me. Because even if Julia was lying, all she was probably lying about was her complicated past with men. And my own romantic life had been anything but simple. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was hesitating at the threshold of an emotion that had evaded me my whole life-the feeling of unconditional love for a woman.
She started toward the door.
"Don't leave," I said.
She stopped, but didn't turn back to me. "You're the one who left," she said. She started walking again.
"It's late," I said. "At least let me drive you."
She pulled open the door and slammed it behind her.
18
Saturday, June 29, 2002
I paced the loft for a few minutes, careful to avoid stepping close to the liquor cabinet, deciding whether to run after Julia. I stayed put. Barely. Whether she had lied to me or not, seen into my soul or not, I was finally starting to believe in my heart what North Anderson had been telling me all along. I couldn't see the case clearly with her dominating my line of vision.
I picked up the phone and dialed Anderson at home. I wanted to update him on how Julia had responded. He answered after one ring. " Anderson."
"It's Frank," I said.
"I'm glad you called," he said. "Things are getting ugly all of a sudden."
"How so?" I said.