“Yeah, well, she needs to be a lot more than nice,” Agnes said.
“When can I go back to my house?” Marla asked.
“That’ll be up to the police,” Gill said. “I’m guessing they’ll tear the place apart.”
“Can you go get my computer?” she asked. “So I can do my work?”
“Yes,” Agnes said. “Look into that, Gill.”
“They’re not going to give her back her computer,” her husband said, exasperated. “They’ll be reading all her e-mails and checking her browsing history. That’s what they do in these kinds of investigations.”
“You’re some sort of expert?” his wife asked.
He shook his head. “Have you watched any television?”
Agnes looked at her daughter. “Is that going to be a problem, sweetheart? Are they going to find anything you’d rather they didn’t on your computer?”
She looked into her mother’s eyes. “Like what?” she asked.
“Well, we won’t worry about that right now. Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?”
“I could use a drink,” Gill said, and started heading for the kitchen.
“Maybe some toast,” Marla said.
“Okay, we can—”
The doorbell rang.
Agnes Pickens let go of Marla and opened the front door. Standing there was Dr. Jack Sturgess, who had been among those at the hospital board meeting that morning.
“Agnes,” he said.
“Oh, Jack, thank you for coming.”
Gill stopped and turned. “Jack?”
“I called and asked him to stop by,” Agnes said. “I filled him in on the phone. I thought he should have a look at Marla, make sure she’s okay.”
“I’m fine,” Marla said.
“Gill, take Marla into the kitchen and get her something to eat while I talk to Jack.”
Gill mumbled something, then took his daughter by the arm and led her away. Once he and Marla were out of earshot, the doctor said, “It’s a horrible thing. Just horrible.”
“Yes,” Agnes agreed.
“How on earth did she come into possession of that baby?” he asked.
“I have no idea. My God, there are only two possibilities, and they’re both unimaginable. One is that she actually killed that woman and ran off with the child, or she’s actually telling the truth and someone delivered the baby right to her. I mean, how could that happen?”
“How’s she now? Did she believe the child was really hers?”
Agnes shook her head. “No more than she did when she tried to take that baby out of the hospital the other time. But we need to get to the bottom of this.”
“I wonder if I need to prescribe something, to calm the nerves.”
“For her, or me?” Agnes asked.
“Agnes, I—”
“You should have anticipated this, Jack. That there would be lasting trauma from what she went through. Losing a child, that’s an absolutely devastating thing for a person to deal with.”
“For God’s sake, Agnes, that never occurred to you? You’ve had Marla seeing someone; you’ve done all you could. No one could have predicted Marla would react this way, going around stealing babies and—”
Gill reappeared. “Jack, a drink?”
The doctor shook his head. “No, that’s okay, but thank you, Gill.”
“How is she?” Agnes asked her husband.
“I showed her the leftover spaghetti Bolognese that was in the fridge and she said she’d like some of that. It’s one of her favorite things. It’s warming up now in the microwave. So, Jack, what do you think?”
“I hardly know what to think,” he said. “It might be a good idea to get another psychiatric assessment. God forbid, if the police charge her, you want to start planning a strategy, and her state of mind will play into that.”
“I’ll talk to Dr. Frankel,” Agnes said. “She’s been seeing him for nearly ten months now. I’m sure he’ll say whatever we need him to say.”
“It might be better to get someone who’s not connected to your hospital,” Gill said. “Frankel’s part of the PFG psychiatric unit. That might work against Marla if this, as Jack says, ends up before the courts. Frankel’s testimony could be tainted by his connection to you.”
There was a ding from the kitchen microwave.
“I’ll be back,” Gill said, and disappeared.
Dr. Sturgess had his mouth open to say something when he and Agnes heard Gill shout, “Jesus, Marla!”
The two of them ran to the kitchen, where they found Gill on one side of the table, Marla on the other. She was standing, holding a steak knife in her right hand, poised over her upturned left wrist.
“Stay away from me,” she said.
“Marla!” Agnes said. “Put that down! Right now.”
Marla did not obey. Her cheeks were tearstained as she looked at her mother and Dr. Sturgess.
“Why?” she asked.
“Sweetheart, just put that knife down,” Agnes said.
“Why did you have to let my baby die?”
Sturgess cleared his throat. “Marla,” he said quietly, “we did everything we could. We truly did.”
“I’m so sorry,” Agnes said. “You have no idea how sorry I am.”
“You should have saved her.”
“There was nothing we wanted more,” her mother said. “It was just... all I can tell myself is that it was God’s will.”
Gill was slowly moving around the end of the table, trying to close the distance between himself and his daughter.
“Why wouldn’t God want me to have her?” Marla asked. “Why would He be so mean?”
“There are things we can never understand,” Gill said. “Horrible things happen, I know. But we have to try to move forward. It’s hard. But we can help you. We can help you do that. I love you very much.”
“We both love you,” Agnes said.
“She was so beautiful,” Marla said. “So perfect. Wasn’t she, Mom? Wasn’t she perfect? I close my eyes and try to picture her and it’s hard.”
“She was. She truly was.”
Marla glanced at her father. “Don’t.”
He stopped. “Please, honey. Just put that down. I’m betting Dr. Sturgess can give you something that will make you feel better.”
“I can help you,” the doctor said. “Let us all help you, Marla.”
“They’re going to put me away,” she said. “I’m going to go to jail.”
“No,” Agnes said. “We won’t let that happen. We’ll hire the best lawyers there are. If Natalie isn’t the best, we’ll get someone else.”
“That’s right,” Gill said. “Whatever it takes.”
“I don’t think so,” Marla said, then brought the blade down on her wrist and drew it across.
“No!” Agnes screamed, her hands going to her mouth.
Gill rushed forward and clutched Marla’s right arm to wrest the knife from her, but she made no effort to hold on to it. It clattered to the floor, narrowly missing Gill’s shoe.
Marla allowed her left arm to drop. Blood emerged from her wrist, coated her hand like dark red paint, and dripped off the tips of her fingers.
Dr. Sturgess raced forward, grabbing a tea towel hanging from the oven door handle along the way, and bound it tightly around Marla’s bleeding wrist while Gill held on to her. Agnes was frozen, hands still over her mouth, watching the scene in front of her in horror.
“Call nine-one-one!” the doctor screamed at her. “Agnes! Call an ambulance!”
She ran to the wall phone, picked up the receiver, and punched in the number.
Marla, for the first time since she’d had Matthew taken away from her, allowed herself a smile.
Twenty-three
Ethan must have been watching from his bedroom window and seen me pull into the driveway in his grandmother’s ancient Taurus, because he was waiting for me at the door when I came into the house. Mom and Dad were in the kitchen, so he didn’t have to worry about interrogating me in front of them.