Surprised, Tolan hesitated. “Who?”
“Frank Blackburn, OCPD?”
It took him a moment to find the memory. “Ahh, right,” he said. “Sue Carmody’s partner.”
Carmody was a Special Victims investigator he had consulted with on a couple of cases. Their collaboration had been successful both times out, but he had never been able to warm up to her. She was a typical anal-retentive with control issues that he’d found just barely tolerable.
“Carmody transferred to another unit,” Blackburn said. “But that’s a conversation we’ll reserve for a later date. Right now I need your help.”
“Is this about one of my patients?”
“I don’t think so.” Blackburn sounded surprised. “Why do you ask?”
He considered telling Blackburn about the phone call but decided against it. “No reason. What can I do for you?”
“You still run the EDU over at Baycliff, right?”
“I’m the director, yes.” A sixty-bed facility, the Emergency Detention Unit at Baycliff Psychiatric Hospital handled a large portion of the city’s mental health emergencies, usually picking up the overflow from County General.
“I’ve got a Girl Gone Wild here I need you to take a look at. Real whack job.”
Tolan bristled. He had never appreciated the dehumanizing slang cops used to describe the mentally ill. Not that he was a saint, but his patients were troubled human beings who deserved respect, not scorn.
“The Unit’s staffed twenty-four-seven, Detective.”
“I’m sure you’ve got a wonderful crew, Doc, but I need the big guns on this one. The way you handled that kid we brought in a few months ago was nothing short of magic.”
“Is this another rape case?”
“At this point I’m not sure what it is. That’s why I need you.”
Tolan sighed. He’d already given up on sleep, and lying in bed dwelling on his grief wasn’t doing him any good. Still, he needed time to decompress.
“Go ahead and have the night staff process her. I’ll let them know you’re coming and meet you there in a couple hours.”
“Thanks, Doc, you’re a peach. Sorry if I woke you.”
Somehow Tolan got the feeling that Blackburn was never really sorry about anything.
It was a state of mind he envied.
When he got out of the shower, Lisa was awake and waiting for him, towel in hand, a look of concern on her face.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better,” he said, taking the towel from her.
“You were asleep when I came home.”
Tolan shook his head. “Playing possum. Didn’t want you to worry. You came in pretty late. I figured you were staying at the beach house.”
“We went to Isabel’s after the movie, and you know what happens when you get four women in a room talking about men. We all start sharpening our knives.”
He tried to laugh, but all he could manage was a weary smile. As he finished drying off, Lisa moved in close, slipping her arms around him. “You look miserable. Maybe you should talk to Ned again.”
Ned Soren was Tolan’s ex-partner. He was also his therapist.
“He’d probably just try to get me back on the fluoxetine,” Tolan said. Unlike Soren, he was a strong believer that psychopharmacology was a last resort. “Drugs or no drugs, you’d think that after a year I’d be making more progress.”
“There’s no time limit on grief, Michael. You know that.”
“Clinically, yeah. But emotionally… I just want to get past this. It isn’t fair to you.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“Bullshit.”
“I just want you to heal,” she said. “No matter how long it takes.” She gave him a squeeze, kissed him. “You’ll be marking this day for the rest of your life, Michael. But it’ll get easier. I promise. You’ll come around.”
“Is that what you told the girls last night?”
“It’s what I always tell them. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t believe it.”
“You’re too goddamn good to me.”
Lisa smiled. “Don’t you ever forget it.”
He considered telling Lisa about the phone call, but what good would that accomplish? He was certain now that it had been nothing more than a cruel joke perpetrated by a sick mind, and telling her would be equally cruel. As grounded as she was, Lisa was also a worrier. And what she worried about most was Tolan.
Why throw gas on the flames?
He thought about all the years they’d known each other and how their friendship had only recently blossomed into romance. They had met as undergrads at UCLA, had shared a house with four other students in Westwood. There had been a fair amount of flirting at first, a night of drunken kisses that never led anywhere, and they’d quickly settled into friendship mode. Thanks to similar paths in grad school, they’d kept in touch ever since.
Lisa had served on staff at County General for several years, then signed on as head psychiatric nurse at the Baycliff EDU about six months before Tolan came on board. Shortly after Abby’s death, she had encouraged him to take the director’s job, and they had been working together ever since.
Truth was, she had awakened something inside him he’d thought would lay dormant forever, and the feeling was both unexpected and welcome.
He needed her. Not at the same primal level at which he’d needed Abby, but Abby had been his soul mate and there was no competing with that.
Lisa was, for lack of a better word, his savior. And if he could keep his remorse from dragging them down, they might have a future together.
By the time he was dressed, Lisa had brewed a pot of coffee and handed him a cup as he entered the kitchen. Her shift at the hospital didn’t start until later that morning, and she was wearing only a T-shirt, which barely covered her ass. Her hair still had that tousled, just-got-out-of-bed look.
Tolan suddenly remembered the first night they’d made love and felt his body reacting to the memory. Maybe that was the date he should be marking on his calendar. Celebrate the bliss, not the pain. Anything to get him through this godforsaken day.
“Feeling any better?” she asked.
“Getting there. You look great, by the way.” He set down his coffee cup. Smiled. A smile she was getting to know quite well.
“Don’t even think about it. You don’t have time.”
“We could make time.”
“I thought you said the police are waiting for you.”
Tolan’s smile broadened. He was starting to feel better now. Much better. Decompression nearly complete.
“Let ’em wait,” he said.
5
Blackburn was in the staff parking lot when Tolan pulled in.
Tolan had met the man only once, several months ago, when he and Detective Carmody brought in a young rape victim who was suffering from trauma-induced mutism. Tolan had managed to get her to talk, giving them just enough of a description to eventually help nail her attacker.
This had more to do with the girl than Tolan, but no matter how much he tried to dissuade them of the notion, the partners were convinced he’d pulled a rabbit out of his hat.
As Tolan killed the engine of his Lexus and climbed out, Blackburn came over. He was big and lean and distinctly urban. Someone you wouldn’t want to piss off.
His smile, however, immediately softened him.
“Hiya, Doc. Thanks for showing up on such short notice.”
It was approaching five-thirty now and Tolan was late, but if Blackburn was bothered by this he didn’t show it. Tolan noted that his shirt and jacket were stained with blood.
They shook hands. “I assume she’s been admitted?”