“Have you ever had a boyfriend? At seventeen you must have.” She smiled again, but Grace shook her head in answer.
“Is there anything you want to say to me about last night, Grace? Do you remember how you felt before you shot him? What made you shoot him?” Grace shook her head dumbly.
“I don't know.”
Molly York knew that Grace wasn't being honest with her. As shaken as she may have been at the time of the shooting, she wasn't dazed now. She was fully alert, and determined not to tell Molly what had happened. The tall attractive blonde looked at the girl for a long time, and then slowly closed her notebook and uncrossed her legs.
“I wish you'd be honest with me. I can help you, Grace. Honest.” If she felt that Grace had been defending herself, or that there had been extenuating circumstances it would be a lot easier for her. But Grace wasn't giving her anything to go on. And the funny thing was that, in spite of her circumstances and the fact that she wasn't cooperating at all, Molly York liked her. Grace was a beautiful girl, and she had big, honest, open eyes. Molly saw so much sorrow and pain there, and yet she didn't know how to help her. It would come. But for the moment, Grace was too busy hiding from everyone to let anyone near her.
“I've told you everything I remember.”
“No, you haven't,” Molly said quietly. “But maybe you will later.” She handed the girl her card. “If you want to see me, call me. And if you don't, I'll be back to see you again anyway. You and I are going to have to spend some time together so I can write a report.”
“About what?” Grace looked worried. Dr. York scared her. She was too smart, and she asked too many questions.
“About your state of mind. About the circumstances of the shooting, such as I understand them. You're not giving me much to work with for the moment.”
“That's all there is. I found the gun in my hand, and I shot him.”
“Just like that.” She didn't believe it for a moment.
“That's right.” She looked like she was trying to convince herself but she had not fooled Molly.
“I don't believe you, Grace.” She looked her right in the eye as she said it.
“Well, that's what happened, whether you believe it or not.”
“And what about now? How do you feel about losing your father?” Within three days she had lost both of her parents and become an orphan, that was a heavy blow for anyone, particularly if she had killed one of her parents.
“… I'm sad about my dad … and my mom. But my mom was so sick and in so much pain, maybe now it's better for her.”
But what about Grace? How much pain had she been in? That was the question that was gnawing at Molly. This was not some bad kid who had just blown away her old man. This was a bright girl, with a sharp mind, who was pretending that she had no idea why she had shot him. It was so aggravating to listen to her say it again that Molly would have liked to kick the table.
“What about your dad? Is it better like this for him?”
“My dad?” Grace looked surprised at the question. “No … he … he wasn't suffering … I guess dais isn't better for him,” Grace said without looking up at Molly. She was hiding something, and Molly knew it.
“What about you? Is it better for you like this? Would you rather be alone?”
“Maybe.” She was honest again for a moment.
“Why? Why would you rather be alone?”
“It's just simpler.” She looked and felt a thousand years old as she said it.
“I don't think so, Grace. It's a complicated world out there. It's not easy for anyone to be alone. Especially not a seventeen-year-old girl. Home must have been a pretty difficult place if you'd rather be alone now. What was ‘home’ like? How was it?”
“It was fine.” She was as closed as an oyster.
“Did your parents get along? Before your mom got sick I mean.”
“They were fine.”
Molly didn't believe her again but she didn't say it. “Were they happy?”
“Sure.” As long as she took care of her father, the way her mother wanted.
“Were you?”
“Sure.” But in spite of herself, tears glistened in her eyes as she said it. The wise psychiatrist was asking far too many painful questions. “I was very happy. I loved my parents.”
“Enough to lie for them? To protect them? Enough not to tell us why you shot your father?”
“There's nothing to tell.”
“Okay.” Molly backed off from her, and stood up at her side of the table. “I'm going to send you to the hospital today, by the way.”
“What for?” Grace looked instantiy terrified, which interested Molly gready. “Why are you doing that?”
“Just part of the routine. Make sure you're healthy. It's no big deal.”
“I don't want to do that.” Grace looked panicked and Molly watched her.
“Why not?”
“Why do I have to?”
“You don't have much choice right now, Grace.
You're in a pretty tight spot. And the authorities are in control. Have you called a lawyer yet?”
Grace looked blank at the question. Someone had told her she could, but she didn't have one to call, unless she called Frank Wills, her father's law partner, but she wasn't even sure she wanted to. What could she say to him? It was easier not to.
“I don't have a lawyer.”
“Did your father have any associates?”
“Yes … but … it's kind of awkward to call them … or him, he had a partner.”
“I think you should, Grace,” she said firmly. “You need an attorney. You can ask for a public defender. But you're better off with someone who knows you.” It was good advice.
“I guess so.” She nodded, looking overwhelmed. There was so much happening. It was all so complicated. Why didn't they just shoot her, or hang her, or do whatever they were going to, without drawing it out, or forcing her to go to the hospital. She was terrified of what they would find there.
“I'll see you later, or tomorrow,” Molly said gently. She liked the girl, and she felt sorry for her. She had been through so much, and what she had done certainly wasn't right, but Molly was convinced that something terrible had caused her to do it. And she intended to do everything she could to find out what had really happened.
She left Grace in the holding cell, and went out to talk to Stan Dooley, the officer in charge of the investigation. He was a veteran detective, and very little surprised him anymore, though this had. He'd met John Adams a number of times over the years, and he couldn't imagine a nicer guy. Hearing he had been shot by his own kid had really stunned him.
“Is she nuts, or a druggie?” Detective Dooley asked Molly as she appeared at his desk at eight o'clock in the morning. She had spent an hour with Grace, and in her mind, had gotten nowhere. Grace was determined not to open up to her. But there were some things that she wanted to know, that they could find out whether or not Grace wanted.
“Neither one. She's scared and shaken up, but she's lucid. Very much so. I want her to go to the hospital today, for an exam, now in fact.” She didn't want too many hours to elapse before they did it.
“What for? Drug screen?”
“If you like. I don't think that's the issue here. I want a pelvic.”
“Why?” He looked surprised. “What are you after?” He knew Dr. York and she was usually pretty sensible, though every now and then she went off the deep end, when she got carried away over one of her patients.
“I've got a couple of theories here. I want to know if she was defending herself. Seventeen-year-old girls don't usually go around shooting their fathers. Not from homes like this one.”
“That's bullshit, and you know it, York,” he said cynically. “What about the fourteen-year-old shooter we had last year who took out her whole family, including grandma and four younger sisters? You gonna tell me that was self-defense too?”
“That was different, Stan. I read the reports. John Adams was naked and so was she, and there was come all over the sheets. You can't deny it was a possibility.”