Inside Out (16 page)

“And from now on, Leo, when you want to talk with an inmate at this institution—any inmate—you’re to see them here on the main floor.”

Again he made no response.

She reached for her bag. She didn’t know where she was going except that she was getting out of there. She skirted around her desk and headed for the door. Leo didn’t budge.

“I need an update on your talk with the head nurse at Bell’s place, Natalie.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Jack. What are you doing here?” Nat stepped away from her front door, and her deputy walked into her apartment. It was after nine P.M.

“Well, let’s see. You breezed into the center at nine-thirty this morning, left at ten-fifteen, dropped back in after seven this evening, and were gone again less than an hour later. We didn’t even get a moment to touch base.” He headed into her liying room without waiting for an invitation.

Nat followed him. “You read the note I left for you about Lynn Ingram?”

“Yeah, I read your note. You might have dropped by my office to tell me in person that she regained consciousness.”

“I. . . uh . . . had some things to do.”

“You’re a lousy liar, Nat. I know about Leo’s little tete-a-tete with Suzanne. She told me.”

“Did she?” She tried to sound nonchalant, but Jack was right. She was a lousy liar. She dropped into her club chair.

“Want a drink?” Jack asked.

“Yes.”

He knew where she kept her booze. And he knew that scotch straight up was her drink of choice when she was in need of a drink.

It was Jack’s pick as well. When he was in need of a drink. He brought her the scotch. A Perrier for himself. Well, at least one of them would stay sober tonight.

Jack made himself comfortable on the couch. “You want to talk about it?”

“No.” She punctuated her answer with several throat-burning swallows of scotch.

“How about something to eat?”

“No.”

“Wanna take a drive? Catch a flick? Play some miniature golf? Sink into depression?”

“No, no, no. Yes.”

“Love. Ain’t it a bitch?”

She finished off the drink. “Go home, Jack. I’m going to be lousy company tonight.”

He rose to his feet. Even though she had pretty much ordered him to leave, she felt an immediate pang of disappointment. As much as one part of her felt like spending her evening wallowing in self-pity, another part of her didn’t want to be alone. Maybe it was just that she couldn’t handle any more feelings of abandonment for one day.

“Well, you may not be hungry,” Jack said, “but I am. What have you got in your fridge?”

Nat knew he must have seen the flash of relief on her face, but for once she didn’t care that she was so transparent. And at least he had the good sense not to rub it in.

After a few minutes she followed him into the kitchen, partly to get a refill. Jack had the bottle of scotch on the counter. At the ready. He was at the stove scrambling up some eggs.

“You had some Chinese food in the fridge, but it didn’t seem like the right food for the way you’re feeling.”

If you only knew,
Nat thought.

She poured herself another stiff drink. “You look so domestic.”

Jack glanced over his shoulder. “You sound surprised.”

She leaned against the counter, watching him sprinkle Parmesan cheese over the cooking eggs. “You never impressed me as a man who knew his way around a kitchen.”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Nat.”

She took another long swallow of scotch, hoping to dispel her premonition that something was about to shift in her relationship with Jack Dwyer. Whether she liked it or not.

No, that wasn’t it. Given her current state of mind, not to mention the current state of her relationship—or lack thereof— with Leo Coscarelli, Nat was afraid she might like it, at least like feeling wanted. At the same time, she knew it would not be a wise move. For either of them.    *

Jack took two plates out of the cupboard. “Maybe you’ll change your mind,” he said.

“No thanks.”

Ignoring her, he divided the scrambled eggs between them.

The gesture made her angry. She snatched up one of the plates and dumped the contents into the trash. “I said no thanks.” She slammed the plate on the counter with so much force, it shattered.

Jack came over to her.

“Go home. Please, Jack. Just... go home.”

He pulled her into his arms. Even as she was hating herself for being so weak, she folded herself into his embrace. “Damn you, Jack,” she muttered, as an image flashed before her eyes of the two of them embracing soon after Maggie’s murder. An embrace born out of a desperate need on both their parts to be comforted. Only, that need changed. Or maybe it merely expanded. But that time, Nat came to her senses before she made a mistake she felt certain she would come to regret.

Tonight her mind seemed less in control than it had been then. She blamed it on the two strong drinks. But even as she did, she knew it was a lie. A cop-out. A need to displace the blame so she wouldn’t feel guilty and ashamed of herself. Like she was really going to avoid those feelings.

Much to her chagrin, it was Jack who drew back this time. He held her at arm’s length.

He was still smiling. But now his smile was tinged merely with sympathy. “You’re going to be okay, Nat.”

“I said almost those same words to my sister this morning.”
My sister. Oh, God, I totally forgot. . . Lunch. I was supposed to have lunch with her today. And I didn’t even remember to call and explain why I couldn’t meet her.
Now Nat was really feeling guilty.

“Nat? What’s wrong?”

She was pushing Jack out of the way as she made a beeline for the phone. Guilt vied with worry as she punched in Rachel’s number. One ring. Two rings. Three.

“Hello?”

“Rach. Oh Rach, I’m so sorry.”

“Nat? Is that you?” Her sister’s voice sounded weirdly chipper.

“I missed our lunch. The thing is, I had this day of nonstop interviews, one of them out in Westfield and then . . . Anyway, our lunch date completely skipped my mind. Are you okay, Rach? Did you tell the kids?”

“I’m in the middle of dinner, Nat.”

“Please don’t be angry, Rach.”

“Don’t be silly, Nat. Listen, Gary and the kids are starving. I’ve really got to go.”

“Gary? Did you say . . . ? He’s back?”

“Be right off, darling,” Nat heard her sister cheerily calling out to the prodigal husband. “Gotta go, Nat. Speak to you soon. Take care.”

“Yeah. Right.” Nat stared at the phone for a moment before she hung up.

“Everything okay with your sister?” Jack asked solicitously.

“She thinks so,” Nat muttered, determined to have a serious talk with her sister ASAP.

Jack walked over to her. Took hold of her hand. Pressed it against his chest.

She tried to swallow down the lump that had suddenly lodged itself in her throat. She’d never been good at dealing with the bestowal of tenderness. She was certain that lack came from rarely having experienced tenderness as a child. Her mother was too emotionally disturbed, her father usually too drunk.

Jack leaned in, kissed her lightly on the forehead. Had he pulled her into his arms and ravaged her lips, she’d have felt less vulnerable. Less weepy.

She turned away, determined not to let him see how much he was getting to her. “Your eggs are getting cold.”

“I’ll nuke ’em. And then I’ll eat and you’ll get me up to speed on what’s happening with the investigation. And then I’ll give you a quick update on the House.”

She nodded gratefully. Yes. Talk about the investigation. A respite. Keep the conversation off her and Leo. Off her and Jack.

fourteen

Thirty-six states, the District of Columbia, and the federal government have laws specifically prohibiting sexual relations between staff and inmates. A number of the laws prohibit staff-inmate sexual contact regardless of inmate consent, recognizing that such sexual relations cannot be truly consensual because of the power that staff have over inmates.

Amnesty International

AFTER GETTING THE okay from Dr. Madison the next morning to visit with Lynn for a few minutes, Nat called the center and told her clerk she’d be in around ten-thirty. It was now a few minutes before nine. Leo had left at a little past seven
a.m.
She was still half asleep, but she’d offered to get up and make him some breakfast. He kissed her lightly on the lips and told her he’d have a bite at home. Nat knew he liked to spend some time with Jakey before his mother drove the boy to nursery school.

It wasn’t until after Leo left that Nat felt any twinge of regret. Nothing had changed after all. They hadn’t talked about Suzanne, but they were going to have to. At some point. However, given all her other worries, Nat was happy to relegate that discussion to the back burner for the time being.

When Nat arrived at the ICU, she was surprised but pleased to see that Ross Varda was already there, sitting at Lynn’s bedside. She hesitated at the door, thinking Lynn might want to speak privately with her psychiatrist, but Dr. Varda motioned for Nat to come over.

Nat tried to prepare herself for her first look at Lynn since her attack, but there was really no way to prepare for such a thing. All she could do was hope that she could keep her expression from giving away her feelings of shock and horror at the butchery that had been done to Lynn.

Not that Nat could see any of the actual disfigurement. A specially rigged blanket was draped over Lynn’s body so that she was covered without suffering the pressure from the weight of the material. So much of her face was swathed in bandages that the only areas visible were her eyes and her mouth. In a way, all those dressings—not to mention the disturbing array of tubes she was hooked up to and the massive amount of machinery bleeping, blinking, and humming in the background—only served to bring home more powerfully the extent and severity of the assault.

As Nat approached the bed, Lynn’s eyes were closed. Nat felt a rush of alarm that she had already slipped back into a comatose state.

Varda got to his feet. “She’s asleep,” he said by way of assurance.

“Have you spoken with her at all?” Nat asked in a whisper as he offered her the chair. She waved off the invitation to sit.

“For a couple of minutes. She’s heavily medicated, but she did recognize me.”

“That’s a very good sign, right?”

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

“And did she say anything about—?”

“No. She’s only vaguely aware of where she is, and even vaguer about why.”

“Dr. Madison said that’s to be expected. Such severe trauma often produces temporary memory loss.”

“It isn’t always temporary,” Varda said.

Lynn’s eyes fluttered open, and Varda and Nat instantly stopped their conversation. Nat felt a wrenching sensation in her gut as she saw that Lynn’s eyes were so severely bloodshot, there was no sign of whiteness around the sharply dilated pupils.

“Hi, Lynn,” Nat said softly, hearing the quiver in her voice and hoping Lynn didn’t.

Nat quickly saw it was needless to worry. Even though Nat was standing less than a foot away from Varda, Lynn’s .eyes remained fixed on her psychiatrist. It appeared not only that she hadn’t heard Nat’s greeting, but also that Lynn was oblivious to her presence.

“Natalie Price has come to see you, Lynn.”

“Who?” she asked in a weak whisper.

“The superintendent of Horizon House,” Varda said gently. Lynn blinked several times, still not pulling her gaze off his. “What’s . . . happening?”

“You remember, Lynn. You’re in the hospital. You were injured. You’re being looked after.”

For an instant, Nat thought she detected some sign of cognition in Lynn’s eyes. But the brief awareness quickly gave way to a drugged blankness.

Varda looked over at Nat. “It will be like this for a while.” He returned his gaze to Lynn. “I’ll come back to see you again later. You rest now.” He gave Nat a reassuring smile, then took a light hold of her arm, meaning to escort her out.

“I’ll stay for a few more minutes,” she told him.

Nat could see by his disapproving look that he didn’t think her continued presence was in the best interest of his patient, but since Varda knew she had Dr. Madison’s permission to visit, he didn’t argue.

He exited the room, but Nat could see through the glass wall that he had chosen to wait for her in the corridor.

“How do you feel, Lynn?” Nat sat in the chair Varda had vacated for her.

Slowly, Lynn’s eyes shifted in Nat’s direction. The blank look remained.

“Do you know who I am, Lynn?”

“Who . . . ?”

“I’m Natalie. Natalie Price—”

“Who . . . did . . . this?”

Having expected almost complete unawareness, her question took Nat by surprise. “I don’t know, Lynn. But I’m going to find out. I promise you that.” She was shaken by the depth of ferocity in her voice.

Lynn, however, displayed no reaction at all. Her gaze drifted off. A few moments later, her eyes fluttered closed. Nat remained for a bit longer, trying to gain some small measure of comfort from the sound of Lynn’s breathing.

When she did leave the room, Ross Varda was still out in the corridor and he was not alone. Dr. Harrison Bell was beside him. They were engaged in a conversation in which neither man looked happy.

The police guard outside Lynn’s door was also standing. He was not looking too happy himself.

“I just want to see Lynn for a minute,” Bell said to Nat the instant she stepped into the hall.

“Detective Coscarelli has already told you—”

“I know what he told me,” Bell snapped, garnering a sharp look of disapproval from the nurse at the ICU monitoring station a few yards away.

Varda was watching Nat anxiously. “Did she say anything more?” he interrupted.

Nat shook her head.

Bell was still on his tear. “Let the cop here come in with me. Hell,” he said, his voice sounding strained as he fought to keep it under control, “you can all come in there with me. I just want Lynn to know I’m here. That I haven’t abandoned her. That. . . That if she needs me—” He broke off abruptly. Turned away. Stood still for a few moments, then, cursing under his breath, stormed off.