“Even you?”
“Not during a session.” He smiled. “But during everyday conversation, of course I do. Like I said, everyone does.”
I sighed. No one seemed to understand. This bothered me. A lot.
“Let’s get back to your husband and your father being off.”
“All right. It was a feeling. I can’t explain it any better than that. A feeling gleaned from observing how they acted.”
“How they acted or how they reacted to one another?”
“Yes! The second one.” Again, why couldn’t I have found those words? Because I wasn’t a psychiatrist, I guessed.
“I see. Have your husband and father been in contact? Alone?”
“Not that I know of. Brad would have told me.”
“All right.” Dr. Pelletier jotted down a few notes. “Has anything else occurred that makes you think you lost time?”
“Not really. I did end up in my room while I was home in Denver. I didn’t remember walking up the stairs, but I remembered leaving the baby with my mother in the living room.”
“You were on autopilot, probably.”
“Maybe. For some reason that doesn’t bother me as much as the lost conversation during dinner.”
“Probably because it was just a walk up the stairs. You didn’t miss anything.”
“I remember being in my bedroom and deciding to take my favorite stuffed animal home to the ranch. So I tossed it in my bag.”
“Why did you decide to take the stuffed animal?”
“I don’t know. I was feeling a little needy, I guess.”
“Nothing wrong with being a little needy.”
“Really? Because I have everything, Doctor. A husband I love. A baby I cherish. A beautiful home on a gorgeous ranch. All the money in the world.”
“And you feel a little guilty about being needy?”
“Yeah. Wouldn’t you?”
He smiled. “Things are nice. They make life easier sometimes, but they don’t replace people.”
“But I have people. My husband. My son. My mother-in-law. She’s such a sweetheart and a great help. And I have hired help as well.”
“Maybe I didn’t put that exactly right,” he said. “You need love.”
“I have that. So why was I feeling so needy?”
“That,” he said, “is what we need to figure out. Tell me. Do you remember anything else about the year you were hospitalized? I mean, you began to recall the other patients who were there with you. Have you been able to remember any of their names?”
I shook my head. “I wish I could.”
“That’s okay. Do you remember what they looked like?”
“Everything was blurry.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I remember wondering if I needed glasses or something. It seemed like every time I was in a common area, all the other people there were blurry. I couldn’t make out any of their faces.”
“Did you ask for some glasses?”
“I always meant to, but I don’t think I ever did.”
“And your vision now?”
“It’s perfect. Twenty-twenty, like it’s always been.”
“It’s possible some of your medications affected your vision. I’ll look into that.” He jotted down more notes.
“Yeah, that might make sense. Whatever they gave me really affected my memory, so maybe it affected my vision.”
“Maybe.”
Though he didn’t sound convinced. How did I know that? Because I was observant. I’d learned to observe everything visually and aurally. And his tone was definitely not convinced.
“Doctor?”
“Yes?”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Chapter Seventeen
Brad
Wendy had been released while Daphne and I were in Denver visiting her parents. I found that out when I got back. With consternation, I decided to pay a visit to her parents, Warren and Marie Madigan. They lived in Snow Creek.
“Brad.” Warren cleared his throat after opening the door. “I expected we’d see you sometime soon. Come in.”
I entered.
“Marie’s in the kitchen.” He called for her, and she joined us.
“I suppose you’re here to discuss Wendy.”
“I am.”
“She’s doing great,” Marie said happily. “She’s back at school getting registered for the fall semester. She’s a little late, but she’ll catch up.”
I had no doubt. Wendy was brilliant.
“She’s excited about a career in journalism,” Warren added.
All stuff I already knew.
“And you think she’s okay living alone in Denver?” I asked.
“Her doctors seem to think so. She’s so sorry about what happened with your friend. She really didn’t mean to harm him.”
“He’s dead,” I said abruptly.
“Yes, we know,” Warren said. “We’re very sorry for your loss. But Wendy had nothing to do with that.”
“I never said she did.”
Marie patted her husband’s hand. “We know that. Right, Warren?”
He nodded gruffly. Then, “What do you want, Brad?”
“I want to make sure my family is safe.”
“They are, of course,” Marie said. “Wendy would never harm you. You’ll always be special to her.”
I nodded. They weren’t quite getting it. I knew Wendy wouldn’t harm me. I worried she’d harm others to get to me. I still wasn’t convinced she hadn’t been involved in Sean’s and Patty’s deaths. Yeah, she’d been locked up, but that woman had her ways. I’d learned never to take anything for granted where Wendy Madigan was concerned.
“What about my wife and child?” I asked.