Secrets So Deep eBook Read online

  “I try not to think about it.” He continued to twist the paperclip, not looking up.

  “So the memories come back and you push them away?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Do you remember anything else about the time with just your mom and dad when you were little? Times you were scared?”

  “No, not at all. Just that it was better when she came back home.”

  Better without his father? Or better because he was more attached to his mother. “Why was it better, Sebby?”

  “I don’t know. It just was.”

  Charlotte couldn’t decide if he was just trying to reconstruct the time for her benefit, or if he actually had specific, but vague memories of feeling that it wasn’t as good without his mother there. It was possible he harbored resentment about her leaving, but he didn’t seem to be in touch with it if he did.

  “You’ve always been close to your mother, I take it?” “Yeah.”

  “What about your childhood after you moved back to Washington? Tell me some more about that.”

  “I remember when we moved into the house where we live now. I started going to Capital Academy then.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Sixth grade. That’s where the Academy starts.”

  “You like it there?”

  “It’s okay.”

  “A lot of friends?”

  “A few.”

  “Sebby, your mom wanted me to ask how you felt about her friend Stephanie. Can we talk about that?”

  He shrugged. “Not much to say.”

  “Did it bother you that your mom was having a relationship with another woman?”

  “No.” His answer was surprisingly emphatic.

  “Not many teenagers are as accepting as you about things like that. But you’re sure it was okay with you?”

  “My cousin’s gay. It’s no big deal.”

  “That’s good you feel that way . . . very mature.” She sighed, hoping it would encourage him to open up a little more. “It’s just that your mom said she thought you might have had a problem with it because you started staying in your room a lot whenever Stephanie came over. And you didn’t want to do things with them after a while.”

  “I don’t remember that. It’s too confusing.”

  “Did you like Stephanie?”

  “Yes!” She could tell by his voice he was growing exasperated by the questions. “I liked her fine. She was nice.”

  “Okay, I think I’ve badgered you enough about that.” She was glad to see him smile, albeit sheepishly. “Have you been worried about your mom lately?”

  “Some.”

  “Would you say you’re more worried about her now than when she first told you about having breast cancer?” If his mother was right that he was afraid of losing her, his rising anxiety might have been what triggered his suicide attempt.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I just wondered if it helped to know she was getting treatments, or if maybe that made you worry even more.”

  “I get confused when I think about it. I want her to be okay.”

  Confusion wasn’t the reaction she expected, but it was a word he used often to describe feelings he couldn’t otherwise articulate. “What is it that confuses you, Sebby?”

  His only response was a shrug.

  “Cancer can be a scary thing, but she seems to be getting good advice about how to beat it.”

  “I hope so.” He frowned and started playing with his hair again.

  “You know, Sebby, your mother thinks part of what’s bothering you is that you’re worried about something bad happening to her. Is she right?”

  “I guess.”

  It was time to start peeling back the layers. Charlotte picked up the structured diagnostic interview packet and opened it to page one. The next two hours would be grueling.

  As she approached the double glass doors, Glynn caught her reflection and automatically reached to smooth her hair. She felt like a new woman after her rest, and was thrilled to discover that Tina’s husband had dug her Camry out of the snow and deposited it in her driveway while she slept.

  A call from Sebby had brought more good news. Dr. Blue had finished her assessment and would contact her about setting up a time on Monday to talk about the results. He was bored, he said, with nothing to do but watch college basketball on TV all afternoon. Her heart had nearly burst at the sound of his laugh when he admitted he probably would have been doing that even at home.

  The hospital lobby was quiet tonight, relative to its bustle the day before. Most people had better things to do on a Saturday night than—

  “Congresswoman Wright, is your son going to be all right?” The question, shouted by a woman from across the lobby, nearly stole Glynn’s breath. She turned to see a reporter from a local television station heading toward her, a cameraman in tow already filming her reaction.

  Her eleven-year career in politics, plus the years she had campaigned alongside her husband, had prepared her for being in the public eye, even during trying emotional times. But this wasn’t an outpouring of sympathy for the loss of her husband. This was a fishing expedition on the mental state of her son.

  “My son is fine. Thank you so much for asking.” She looked away and stepped up her gait toward the elevator.

  “Is it true he tried to hang himself at school yesterday?”

  She stopped and collected herself before turning and glaring icily at the reporter. “I’m sure your viewers can appreciate what an incredibly personal time this is for my son and me. Please thank them for their thoughts and prayers.”

  Ignoring the follow-up, she bypassed the elevator and banged through the door to the stairwell. By the time she reached her son’s room on the second floor, she was shaking with anger.

  “Mom, what—”

  “Someone at your school has a big mouth.”

  He sat up in bed and swung his legs to the side. “What do you mean?”

  “There’s a TV camera downstairs, and they know what happened yesterday.” Glynn peeled off her gloves and slapped them into the chair. “We need to get you out of here. I’m not going to have this turn into a circus.”

  She threw her coat over the chair and walked back out the door, making a beeline for the nurses’ station. “I need an emergency number for Dr. Blue.”

  The lone nurse at the desk jumped up. “Is something wrong with Sebastian?”

  “No. He’s fine and I want to take him home.”

  “Mrs. Wright, it would be best if you waited for a formal discharge. That way, Dr. Blue can go over instructions for—” “I want to leave now. Tonight. Will you call her, please?” “I’ll certainly try, but we’ll probably reach her answering service.”

  “Tell her it’s an emergency. If she doesn’t come to sign the discharge papers, we’ll leave without them.” Glynn hated how rude she sounded, but her decision wasn’t up for debate. It was only a matter of time before the reporters downstairs talked to someone on staff, or, God forbid, before they found Sebastian and shoved a camera in his face.

  Charlotte plucked an array of flowers and greenery from the vase on her counter and arranged them on the tissue paper. Julie would appreciate the thought, and didn’t need to know they weren’t bought especially for her.

  It wouldn’t hurt to smooth things over from last night, but she doubted it was necessary. If she was reading things right, her guilt about having missed dinner was offset by Julie’s at leaving her on her own in bed again. Charlotte insisted it was forgiven, but was pleased at Julie’s determination to try again.

  Tonight was like a reset for them, but without the dreaded dinner out in a crowded restaurant. Julie was making something in a wok, and she had two movies picked out to watch afterward. That was Charlotte’s idea of a perfect night, especially if they forgot all about the movies.

  She checked herself in the full-length mirror by the door. Julie made no secret of preferring her in a cocktail dress, but Saturday night at home
called for jeans, and that’s what Charlotte wore. The ivory cashmere V-neck dressed her up a bit, as did her gold hoops and bracelet.

  On her way out the door, she grabbed a bottle of Bordeaux from the rack in her kitchen and tucked it under her arm. As she backed out of the garage, her cell phone chirped. She answered through the Bluetooth in her car.

  “I hear you got suckered into an emergency last night,” said Brandon Diaz, her colleague, his voice giving away a teasing grin.

  “You suck, dude. No way did that trial last all day.” She listened skeptically to Brandon’s feeble excuse about getting stuck in Beltway traffic. “Yeah, I took the call, so you owe me big. And I was there all day today doing a diagnostic and writing it up.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find a way to pay me back. At least it was fairly easy, right?”

  Though she complained on principle about having to pull her colleague’s duty, she hadn’t minded at all being drawn into the Wright case. If the involvement of a congresswoman wasn’t enough to make it intriguing, treating Sebastian Wright was shaping up as one of the more intellectually challenging cases she had handled since coming to the department six years ago. “No, it’s not actually as straightforward as I thought it would be. It’s too easy in a way . . . makes me think there’s something else going on. I stayed at it for about four and a half hours but I couldn’t quite tease it out.”

  Her conjecture served the dual purpose of making Brandon professionally jealous and confirming her intention of holding onto the case, even though technically she could have handed it off. She merged into traffic for the quick trip over to Rosslyn, where Julie lived.

  “Does that mean you’ll take this call tonight? The mother’s throwing a fit at the hospital and demanding her kid be released.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nobody knows for sure. They’ve convinced her to wait for a discharge but I don’t think she’ll hang out long. Her kid’s really agitated.”

  Charlotte braked and squeezed over to the exit lane. “I’ll go see what’s going on.”

  “You don’t have to do this, Charlotte. If they walk out against orders, we aren’t liable for anything.”

  Her sense of urgency had nothing to do with liability. Sebby had been perfectly calm this afternoon. This outburst didn’t make sense. “I just want to see for myself. I’ll call you in the morning.” She needed to cancel her date with Julie. What fun that would be.

  “Shhh, try to calm down, honey.” Glynn perched on the edge of the hospital bed, gently stroking her son’s hair. This was her fault. She should have realized he was too fragile right now to cope with seeing her out of control and upset. She needed to get him home and settled in his own bed, away from the prying questions and speculation of strangers.

  The door opened and in walked Charlotte Blue, absent her usual lab coat. She obviously had been called away from a night out with her friends.

  “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

  “Didn’t you see them downstairs? Television reporters, all wanting the scoop on Sebby for their evening news. They’re like jackals.” She scooted back to the window and counted the vans, now numbering four.

  “I came in the side door. How did they know he was here?” Charlotte walked over to the bed and nudged Sebastian onto his back.

  “Someone at his school must have called it in.”

  “Are you all right, Sebby? Did they bother you?”

  “No, they haven’t found his room yet,” Glynn answered. “But it’s just a matter of time. That’s why we need to get out of here.”

  Charlotte looked at her and tilted her head toward the door. “Can I get you to wait outside for a couple of minutes?”

  Glynn felt her face grow hot with embarrassment. She had been ranting like a lunatic ever since Charlotte had walked through the door. “Of course.”

  Outside the door, she leaned against the wall, a suspicious eye on everyone moving about in the hallway. After a few minutes, Charlotte came out, closing the door behind her.

  “Sebby could use a little something to calm him down. I’d like to prescribe the same sedative he took last night.”

  “Can he take it when he gets home?”

  Charlotte took her elbow and led her to the end of the hall, the most private place she could find. “Glynn, I really don’t think he should be released. He just isn’t able to cope with things right now.”

  “But this is my fault. He was fine until I got here. He’s only upset now because he knows how pissed I am. Once we get home, he’ll be all right.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. And besides, what if someone is waiting for you there?”

  Glynn was flooded with a sudden sense of helplessness, just like the one that had gripped her the day before when Sebby had regained consciousness and cried at what he had done. “I can’t let them torment my son that way.”

  “I understand. But the answer isn’t to try to run from them. He’s safe here.” Charlotte stepped close and placed both hands on Glynn’s shoulders. “I’ll move him to a room upstairs and get more security on the floor. Then you need to get out of here. Go stay with a friend or something until they get bored and go home.”

  “I can’t leave him.”

  “He’ll sleep just like he did last night. I promise. You have to take care of yourself now. Please trust me.”

  Glynn knew she was right. If she let herself get run down and sick, Sebby might lose it completely. “I do trust you, Dr. Blue. Just help my son.”

  “I’m going to do everything I can.” Charlotte patted her shoulders. “Now let’s get Sebby moved.”

  For the first time since the reporter had shouted her name, Glynn felt her insides begin to relax. If only someone like Charlotte Blue had taken charge of Sebby’s treatment four years ago, this relapse might never have happened.

  Charlotte directed his move to a room in the cardiac wing— where no one would think to look for a teenage boy—along with the assignment of a security guard to patrol the floor. Then she gave Sebby a shot that sent him down for the night.

  “Okay, that’s it. Now follow me.” She led the way down a back staircase and through an unmarked door that deposited them on the quad, well out of sight of the vultures waiting at the hospital entrance.

  “My car’s on the street in front.”

  “I’ll take you around to it. They’ll never see us.”

  Glynn got a warm feeling as they quietly walked across the quad, making a wide circle that ended in the parking lot. “You’re making a habit of coming to my rescue, Dr. Blue.”

  “Call me Charlotte,” she said, clicking a key fob that caused the lights to flash on a car parked near the entrance to the office building.

  “Okay. Thank you.” Feeling more at ease with every step, she followed Charlotte to a green Saab. Drawing closer, she saw it had a convertible top. The sporty model conformed perfectly to the image Glynn had unconsciously drawn in her mind of the doctor. Charlotte Blue was stylish and pretty, her dark brown hair cut very short in wispy spikes. She looked great in the casual jeans and V-neck sweater she wore tonight, along with the light makeup that accentuated her eyes. She seemed like a person who had lots of friends . . . probably Democrats.

  “I have a few things on the front seat. Let me get them out of your way,” Charlotte said, sliding into the driver’s seat.

  Glynn opened the passenger door and waited as Charlotte gathered up a wine bottle and a wrapped cluster of what appeared to be wildflowers. From the look of things, she had been on her way to meet someone special.

  “I’m sorry about interrupting your evening,” Glynn said as she got in and closed the door.

  Charlotte started the car and immediately lowered the volume on her stereo. “Don’t worry about it. Comes with the territory.”

  Glynn had recognized the voice of Billie Holiday, and added that information to her portrait of Charlotte. “Still, you must get tired of the disruption
s in your personal life.”

  “The way I see it, being a doctor is just as much a part of my personal life as everything else I do. I know it’s important to my patients, and that makes it worthwhile to me.”

  Glynn couldn’t help the faint feeling of guilt for ruining Charlotte’s date. “Sebby and I are very lucky you were the one that happened to be on duty last night.”

  Chapter 4

  Charlotte checked that her feet were inside the painted rectangle. It was never wise to get in the way of Brandon’s serve, especially as his partner. When they first began playing racquetball together, she had been pleasantly surprised at how his doubles game elevated hers. She was a far better player now than four years ago, and it showed in their domination of opponents.

  The ball whizzed within inches of her knees, her signal to lunge across the court. Even one second could mean the difference between being in position for the next shot and getting smacked in the ass by their opponent’s return. The latter option was motivation to hustle.

  The return by Damon Thornton, a radiologist Brandon had known since medical school, went high off the wall crosscourt. Charlotte leapt for the backhand overhead, sending the ball hard against the front wall so it ricocheted low in the corner and dribbled off, unplayable by her opponent.

  “Damn it, Charlotte. You weren’t supposed to get that,” Damon whined.

  “It was self-defense. Brandon was still stuck to the floor ad

  miring his serve.”

  Damon’s partner Steve slapped the ball against the back wall

  so it carried to the front. “Go again?”

  “That’s enough for me,” Brandon said. “I’m supposed to be

  at my sister’s for lunch in an hour.” They said good-bye to their

  friends, and then walked through the small door and picked up

  their gear. “You’re invited too, by the way,” he added, nudging

  Charlotte’s shoulder.

  “I bet I am.” The Diaz family gatherings were lively affairs

  featuring island music and lots of their native Puerto Rican

  rum.

  Brandon had been trying for years to fix her up with his sister,