My Lost Daughter (28 page)

“Blue Cross.”

“Then there's your answer,” he told her. “There was a guy named Jimmy here. He called and cancelled his insurance and the hospital discharged him the next day.”

Shana gazed out over the room. Alex's explanation seemed too simple. “The hospital can't get away with locking people up just so they can collect on their insurance. For some reason, my mother got it in her mind that I was involved with narcotics. Although I'm pissed she had me committed to this place, I can see how she thought something was wrong with me. I'd just broken up with my boyfriend, so I was going nuts over that, and I hadn't slept in almost a week.”

“Now you think you belong here?”

“Maybe I do. I can't even think straight anymore.”

Alex gave her a sympathetic look. “I'm not trying to upset you. I've been in this place for four months. How do you think I feel?”

“I'm sorry. I guess I'm being melodramatic. Whitehall isn't a prison.”

“Amen to that one,” he said, nodding as Karen walked by.

Shana knew Alex was attracted to her. She didn't know why and she didn't care. She was flooded with fuzzy memories of the first few days. “They gave me some type of medication. It caused me to
have a severe reaction.” She laced her hands through her hair and began pulling. When she let go, strands were wrapped around her fingers. “Now my hair's falling out. I wasn't eating right, either.”

“They probably gave you Thorazine. It's a potent antipsychotic drug with some nasty side effects. People who aren't psychotic, which you obviously aren't, are known to have violent reactions. Was it a pill or a shot?”

“A pill, I think,” Shana told him, scratching the side of her neck. “They also gave me a shot but I think the purpose was to stop the reaction I was having to the pill.”

“The use of antipsychotic medication is highly restricted. Some of the side effects can be permanent. Unless you're under a court commitment, you have to sign a consent form before they can treat you with Thorazine. Did you sign anything?”

“I signed a piece of paper. I don't know what it said, though. I was so desperate to get out of the room where they were holding me, I would have signed my own death certificate.”

Alex laughed. “And you're about to graduate from law school.”

“Gee,” Shana said, glaring at him. “I feel so much better now that you've pointed out what an idiot I am.”

“Lighten up. Whatever you did, you did. You may have a case against the hospital. Ask to speak to the patients' rights advocate. Find out if you're here on a mandatory hold from your doctor, or if they conned you into signing yourself in as a voluntary commitment. You can demand a hearing. If you signed a voluntary, you can rescind it.”

“Thanks, Alex. You're the first person who's told me anything worthwhile.”

David walked over and flopped down in a chair, leaning his crutches against the wall. “You two should get married. Are you going to marry her, Alex? You are, aren't you?” He turned to Shana. “Marry him, okay? He's a prince, man. That's what we call him, the Prince of Whitehall. Marry him and I'll come and live with you guys. You can be my parents. How cool would that be, huh?”

“What's wrong with your own parents?”

“They suck,” he said. “They don't like my girlfriend. I'm never going back there. I'd rather die.”

Alex's eyes narrowed. “Show Shana the picture of your girlfriend, David, the one you had taken at the prom.”

David fished in his pocket and came up with a small snapshot. He stared at it for a while before passing it to Shana. In the photograph was an attractive blonde in a frilly pink party dress. She understood why David's parents might not approve of the girl. She looked like an underage prostitute. Although it was a full body pose, taken from some distance away, she could see the girl's face and it was layered with heavy, garish makeup.

“She's very pretty, David,” Shana lied. “You make a great couple. You even resemble each other.”

David snatched the photo out of her hands and shoved it back into his pocket. Then he seized his crutches, hobbling off toward the back door to return to the adolescent unit.

“Did I say something wrong?” Shana asked. “Why did he storm off like that?”

Alex stood, stretching his arms. “So you think David's girlfriend resembles him? Can you figure out why his parents don't like her?”

“For one thing, she wears too much makeup. And her hair looks strange, almost like a wig. Young girls don't generally wear their hair in such a stiff style.”

“Maybe it was a wig.”

As Shana thought about the image in the photograph, she realized something else that was wrong. Along with the heavy makeup and artificial hair, the girl's knees and thick calves were too masculine. “It was David, wasn't it?” she said, her eyes widening. “That was David in the picture dressed up like a girl. Tell me, Alex, am I right?”

“Think you hit the nail on the head.”

“How sad,” Shana said. “But cross-dressing isn't considered a mental illness. Why is David here?”

A middle-aged man in a brown linen jacket walked up to the
nursing station and Lee handed him a file. “My shrink,” Alex said. “I'd like to hear more about you later.”

“You should tell me about yourself the next time we talk.”

“I doubt if you'd be interested.”

“Try me,” Shana said playfully.

Alex smiled. “Be careful what you say. You're the best-looking girl in this place. Some of the guys would be more than willing to give you a try, myself included.”

Shana swallowed hard, staring at Alex's back as he walked away. Far more dangers lurked inside Whitehall than she had imagined.

MONDAY, JANUARY 18
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA

“Charles,” Dr. Phillip Patterson said, “I need to talk to you.”

Morrow was in the isolation section in front of the nursing station. He reached over to retrieve a chart. “Make it quick, Phil. I'm late for an appointment.”

“Look, I don't mind covering for you on some of your little schemes,” Patterson told him, “but this last referral falls outside the scope of our agreement.”

Morrow dropped the file on the counter and faced him, adjusting the frames of his glasses. “In what way?”

“There's something going on that I don't like,” the other psychiatrist stated. “I can't quite put my finger on it, but under the circumstances, it's frightening.”

Morrow stared at him without speaking. Then he looked over his shoulder and saw Peggy sitting a few feet away. “Don't even think what you're about to say,” he whispered tersely. “I explained everything to you. Just go through the motions.” He dropped his hand to his side and rubbed two fingers together where Peggy couldn't see. “Not only bucks, buddy, but power. Play the game. That's all I'm asking of you.” His mouth opened slightly, exposing his large teeth.
“You've got more than a few shares in this hospital if I'm not mistaken.”

“Sure, I've got stock but that's not the issue,” Patterson told him. “I do have some ethics left.” He looked down at the floor in shame. “Not many, I admit. But I refuse to compromise any more than I already have.” Looking up, he waited until Peggy went to attend to a patient before he continued. “In the time I've been working with this particular patient, I've noticed some disturbing things. Is there something you're not telling me?”

Morrow gritted his teeth, the words hissing their way through the cracks. “I don't know shit, okay? And you don't know shit. Sign the orders. Give him whatever he wants. No one asked you to actually treat him. For all I care, you can play tick-tack-toe with the man. Just make sure you see him every day so we'll have it on record.”

Patterson shifted his feet around. “I'd feel more comfortable if you handled this one yourself, Charles.”

“But why?” Morrow protested, gesturing with his hands. “Is your caseload so heavy that you can't handle this one patient for me? You're getting paid for your time, so what's the problem?”

The other doctor shook his head in dismay. “I wish I knew. Believe me, I wish I knew.”

“Forget it,” Morrow snapped. He started to walk away and then halted. “Have you forgotten that I'm on the board? Would you like it if I recommend that your privileges at this facility be revoked?”

“You're the biggest prick I've ever met,” Patterson exploded, poking his finger into Morrow's chest. “I want it on record that I'm not responsible. I'll play your dirty little game for now, but if your guy steps out of line, I'm going straight to the authorities. You know what you're doing, Charles. You're letting outsiders take control of this hospital, and you're doing it for one reason only, greed.”

Morrow tossed his mane of shaggy hair. A longtime astrology buff, he said, “You have a Scorpio moon, right?” He removed his glasses and wiped them with a white handkerchief. “I looked at your chart last night. The next two weeks are going to bring something significant into your life.”

“You know,” Patterson said, more disgusted now than angry, “sometimes I wonder who the patients are around here.”

 

“The State calls Amber Susan Willis,” Clinton Silverstein said, standing behind the counsel table.

Lily watched as a slender young woman approached the witness box. She had jet-black hair and her arms were covered with tattoos. As soon as she was sworn in, Silverstein began to question her.

“Do you know the defendant in this case, Noelle Reynolds?”

“Yes.”

“Can you point her out for the court?”

She pointed at Reynolds, who was seated beside Richard Fowler. Reynolds had a blank, detached look on her face. Lily had read in the jail report that she had requested to be placed on antidepressants and the jail physician had complied. Lily didn't believe in medicating a defendant until their crime had been adjudicated. Noelle Reynolds looked as if she was a million miles away. Why didn't they just let the prisoners shoot up with heroin? Lily reminded herself to order the jail to take Reynolds off the medication. A woman who had murdered her child should be alert enough to hear the nails being driven into her coffin.

“And Ms. Reynolds is a friend of yours? Is that correct?”

“I don't know if I'd call it a friendship. She went to some of the same clubs I did. We gave each other rides now and then. That's all there was to it.”

Silverstein flipped through some papers, finally finding the one he was looking for. “Were you with the defendant on the morning of May fourth, between the hours of midnight and two in the morning?”

“Yeah, I told you I was.”

“And this was one of the nights Noelle Reynolds gave you a ride, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have your car that night or did you take Noelle's car?”

“Excuse me,” the girl said, her voice laced with sarcasm. “You
asked me if she gave me a ride, didn't you? Why would I need a ride if I had my car?”

Silverstein nervously ran his hands through his hair. “On the date in question, did the defendant, Noelle Reynolds, give you a ride in her Ford Taurus?”

“Yes.”

“And did you hear anything unusual while you were inside Ms. Reynolds's vehicle?”

“I heard noises coming from somewhere inside the car.”

“What kind of noises?”

“Sort of a knocking sound,” Willis stated. “I also thought I heard a kid crying, but Noelle told me it was the radio.”

“And did Ms. Reynolds stop the car to see where this knocking sound was coming from?”

“No.”

“Had Ms. Reynolds been drinking?”

“Sure.”

“Do you know if she had used any type of narcotics earlier in the evening?”

“I know she liked coke, but I don't know if she used it that night. She seemed pretty drunk when I got into the car, but when I mentioned the knocking sounds, she sobered up right away.”

“Where was Ms. Reynolds taking you?”

“To another club called Swans.”

“How far away was Swans located from the club you were at previously?”

“About five miles.”

“Did Ms. Reynolds stop during this trip?”

“Yeah, she stopped at Domino's to get a pizza.”

“What did she do after she purchased the pizza?”

“She offered me a piece, but I told her I didn't want any. I was trying to watch my weight.”

“And what happened after that?”

“Noelle took the pizza and put it in the trunk. I thought it was
odd because she didn't eat any, and I told her it would spoil in the trunk because it was so hot that night.”

Silverstein paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. The jurors were sitting in rapt attention. “Did Ms. Reynolds take anything else other than the pizza with her when she stepped outside to open the trunk?”

“Yeah,” Amber Willis said. “She took her purse. I resented Noelle's thinking that I might steal something from her. I don't steal, you know. I didn't make a big deal about the purse thing because I wanted to get to Swans. I dance there three nights a week.”

“Once Ms. Reynolds went to the trunk and returned, did you hear any more knocking noises?”

“No,” she said, staring at a spot over his head. “The knocking noises stopped.”

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

 

George and Peggy came walking toward Shana as she was flipping through the pages of a year-old
People
magazine. She glanced behind her, thinking there was a problem with one of the other patients. When she turned back around, George and Peggy had taken up a position on either side of her. George grabbed one arm and Peggy seized Shana by the other.

Peggy spoke first. “Come with us, Shana. It's time for your medication.”