"Yes he did. But listen, he's a doctor. If he's riffing off the top of his head, just trying to get you going, drugs in the IV is the obvious choice, right?" But he didn't wait for her answer. He wanted to keep her from getting wound up by arguing. Kensing had warned him that when her emotions got her in their grip, she let them carry her where they would-and in her grief over Markham and general rage at the situation, she wasn't likely to be completely rational. Now he leaned in toward her. "What I wanted to talk to you about is how quickly we can get your children back to you."
As he suspected it might, this calmed her slightly-even she understood it wouldn't serve her well to fly off at him. A hand went to her lips as she visibly gathered herself. "I asked Eric if he could bring them back today. He didn't want to do that."
Hardy nodded, all understanding. "He talked to me about that. I asked him to put himself in your shoes. Suppose you were perhaps actually thinking that he'd killed somebody. If that were the case, wouldn't he have fought you to keep you from taking them?" He sat back into the couch, affecting a nonchalance he didn't feel. "If you want my take on this, the problem is that you're both excellent parents. You both have the same instinct, which is to protect your children. This is a good thing, wouldn't you agree?"
"Yes. I think so." Her eyes, rimmed with exhaustion, now shimmered with tears. One drop spilled over onto her cheek and she wiped it away with a weary, automatic swipe. Hardy had the feeling she'd been doing that so much lately that she didn't even notice anymore. "He's never hurt them. I don't really think he would, but then after last week, when I thought…" She shook her head.
"When you thought he killed Tim Markham?"
She nodded.
"Mrs. Kensing. Do you really think that? In your heart?"
She chewed at her lower lip. "He could have. Yes. He did hate Tim."
"He hated Tim. I keep hearing that. Did he hate him more than he did two years ago?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Then less?"
"Maybe. I thought he'd gotten used to it."
"Okay. When he hated him the most, did he talk about killing him then? Was he that mad?"
"No. No. Eric wasn't like that. He'd never…" She stopped now and looked straight at him, suddenly defensive. "He told me he did."
"Yes he did. He said those words. That's true."
"What was I supposed to think?"
"When did he say all this, Mrs. Kensing? Wasn't it last Tuesday, right after you'd heard that Mr. Markham had died? Right after you accused Eric of killing him?"
She didn't reply.
He kept up the press. "He told me you were in agony. You'd just found out that the man you loved was gone. You were lashing out at the world at the injustice of that, lashing out at him because, maybe, you felt he was safe. Isn't that the way it was?"
He'd never get another chance. In court, in front of a jury, she'd have her story down pat. She'd have been coached over and over again by the prosecution. She'd never embarrass herself by admitting that she might have misunderstood or exaggerated. Indeed, by that time, any doubt would have long since vanished. Even by now, she had already invested a great deal in Eric's confession. Hardy hoped he could lead her to a path by which she could withdraw, if not with her dignity intact, then at least with some grace.
But she couldn't let it go easily. She was pressing her fingers so hard against her mouth that her knuckles were white. Her eyes were closed in concentration, in recollection. "I was just so…lost and hurt. I wanted to hurt him, too."
"You mean Eric. So you accused him of killing Tim, knowing it would hurt him, too?"
"Yes." Suddenly she opened her eyes, released a pent-up breath. "Yes. And he said, 'Absolutely.' Absolutely," she repeated.
"And you took that to mean that he admitted the truth of what you were accusing him of, killing Tim?"
"Yes. I suppose so."
"But looking back on it, is that what it sounds like to you now? Is that really what he meant, do you think? That he'd actually done it? Or were you both just snapping at each other in the tension of the moment?" Hardy lowered his voice to the level of intimacy. "Mrs. Kensing, let me ask you to think about something else. After you left the hospital that day and came back here to your life, you had a day or so to get used to this tragedy, isn't that right, before the police came to talk to you?"
"What else could I do? It was the middle of the week. The kids had school. It was just me and them."
"Sure, I understand. But during that time, before you'd heard about the potassium, you had quite a bit of time during which you say you believed Eric had killed Tim. And yet you made no attempt to go to the police yourself?"
The question surprised her, and she hesitated for a moment, perhaps wondering about the why of her answer. "No. I didn't know."
"Why do you think not, if you don't mind?"
"Because I thought…I mean, I guess I believed…I'd heard Tim died from the accident."
"And you believed that? For two days? Even after Eric had apparently told you he'd killed him? Mrs. Kensing, did you get any sleep in those two days?"
Shaking her head no, she began to sob quietly, but Hardy had to go on. "So when you heard Tim had been killed on purpose, that it hadn't been the accident, what went through your mind?"
"I don't know. When I heard about it…it was so unreal. Almost as though he'd died again, a second time."
"And that's when you remembered what Eric had said the first time?"
"Yes."
"But in spite of Eric's apparent confession, you never really seriously considered that Tim had died of anything but the hit-and-run accident?"
"But he said-"
"But you didn't believe him at the time, did you? You didn't believe him because you knew he didn't mean it literally, as a statement of fact. He said it to hurt you, didn't he? It was a sarcastic and hurtful way to call you stupid, wasn't it? That you'd asked such a question."
She looked at him in a kind of panic, forcing him to backpedal slightly. "I'm not trying to put words in your mouth, Mrs. Kensing. I'm just trying to find out what really happened. What you recall now, today."
Hardy waited through the lengthy silence.
"I mean," she said, "if Tim had been killed, that changed everything, didn't it?"
"I agree it changed that it was no longer an accident." He let her live with it for another long moment. "Mrs. Kensing, Ann, I'm not going to lie to you. Your testimony here is critical, and as you said when I first got here, I'm Eric's lawyer. I've got a vested interest in keeping him out of jail." He waited again until she met his eyes. "If in your heart you believe that Eric killed Tim, and meant it when he said he did, I'm not even going to try to talk you out of it. You know what you know. But Eric is among the things that you know best, for better or worse, isn't that right? And he's been a good father, as you admit; a good doctor. Maybe even by your own estimation, a good man?"
She was nodding, fighting back more tears. "I always thought he was. He is."
And finally, the nub of it. "Do you really believe he could have killed Tim? That he actually did that? Because if he didn't, Mrs. Kensing, somebody else did, and that's the person I'd like to find, whoever it might be. And to do that I'm going to need your help."
The real problem with the reunion between Eric and Ann Kensing was that Hardy didn't know that Glitsky had assigned an officer to protect Mrs. Kensing from her husband should he come back to try and kill her again. When Hardy had rung the bell and been admitted to Mrs. Kensing's house an hour before, this officer hadn't molested Hardy in any way, although he had placed a call to Glitsky informing him of the circumstances.