are some big ones under the old asylum, and maybe—”
“If it was a rat, it was a two-legged one,” I interrupted, speaking as gently as possible. No matter how shaken she was about my being attacked, I couldn’t let her deny and rationalize away what had happened; From now on there would be no more illusions about the need to be careful. “I could hear whoever it was breathing, Janet,” I added, nudging my point home while recalling those endless seconds with a shudder.
She sat on the edge of the bed, staring off at the curtains, then absently brushed back a golden strand of hair from the side other face. I watched her lovely familiar profile as she stayed quiet with her thoughts.
I could only guess at what she was thinking. Her greatest weakness was her absolute, belief in her own invincibility—her long hours, her defiance of fatigue, her relish to take on cases none of her colleagues would touch—all that made her great and yet could lay her low. She’d been so sure someone had killed those nurses; still, it was completely within her character to be equally incredulous that the very same evil might strike back at her or at someone she loved.
She looked paler than usual, and under the harsh fluorescent lights the fine lines of her forehead, jaw, and neck gave her me delicate appearance of a porcelain figurine. So vulnerable, I thought, with a sudden rush of apprehension for this strong woman who was such a force in my life.
The muscles around her lips tightened, and she turned to speak. “All right, here’s what we’ll do,” she began, sitting up straighter, appearing to take charge. “Michael’s right about one thing. Until we have proof that there is a killer behind the Legionella cases, you can’t afford to be telling wild tales about a phantom.” But her voice had a brittle edge to it that occasionally broke and belied the determined expression on her face. “Even if we told somebody what happened in the subbasement tonight, they could dismiss it,” she continued, speaking more quickly, almost to herself. “They’d say that the person you saw was some derelict who’d snuck in and was trying to use abandoned parts of the old asylum as shelter or that the person who shoved you into the elevator had simply acted reflexively, to protect himself when you barged out of the dark, and then panicked, running off when he saw you were hurt.” She was speaking ever more rapidly, as if racing through her thoughts aloud, her tone harsher. I didn’t like the desperation I heard. “And who knows, maybe that’s what happened after all—oh, Christ I’m stupid!” she exploded, angrily snapping off her own train of thought. “I’ve probably gotten us both into something that’s way over our heads— something that at the very least needs the police. And for the life of me I don’t know how we’re going to get a single shred of evidence to make anyone believe us.”
The words poured out of her, like the tears that started down her cheeks. I’d rarely seen Janet cry. I sat up, rather awkwardly, and put my arms around her. At first I felt her stiffen—she hated losing control—then she hugged me back, hard. I felt her body start to heave as she lost the battle to contain her sobs, and I felt my own tears roll down my face onto her slender magnificent shoulders. I held her like that until her crying ended and I felt her body relax against mine. She never noticed when the resident came through the curtain with his staff man, and I waved them away.
“I guess I don’t have to tell you I’m scared,” she sniffled when she spoke again, “especially after what happened to you tonight. God, I’m sorry, Earl, to have been so blind.”
“It’s okay,” I reassured her. “You were the least blind of all. No one else even thought of the Phantom.”
“Yeah, except you warned me about what might happen if we got close.” She pulled away and reached into her lab coat pocket for a tissue. “But if
“If it was a rat, it was a two-legged one,” I interrupted, speaking as gently as possible. No matter how shaken she was about my being attacked, I couldn’t let her deny and rationalize away what had happened; From now on there would be no more illusions about the need to be careful. “I could hear whoever it was breathing, Janet,” I added, nudging my point home while recalling those endless seconds with a shudder.
She sat on the edge of the bed, staring off at the curtains, then absently brushed back a golden strand of hair from the side other face. I watched her lovely familiar profile as she stayed quiet with her thoughts.
I could only guess at what she was thinking. Her greatest weakness was her absolute, belief in her own invincibility—her long hours, her defiance of fatigue, her relish to take on cases none of her colleagues would touch—all that made her great and yet could lay her low. She’d been so sure someone had killed those nurses; still, it was completely within her character to be equally incredulous that the very same evil might strike back at her or at someone she loved.
She looked paler than usual, and under the harsh fluorescent lights the fine lines of her forehead, jaw, and neck gave her me delicate appearance of a porcelain figurine. So vulnerable, I thought, with a sudden rush of apprehension for this strong woman who was such a force in my life.
The muscles around her lips tightened, and she turned to speak. “All right, here’s what we’ll do,” she began, sitting up straighter, appearing to take charge. “Michael’s right about one thing. Until we have proof that there is a killer behind the Legionella cases, you can’t afford to be telling wild tales about a phantom.” But her voice had a brittle edge to it that occasionally broke and belied the determined expression on her face. “Even if we told somebody what happened in the subbasement tonight, they could dismiss it,” she continued, speaking more quickly, almost to herself. “They’d say that the person you saw was some derelict who’d snuck in and was trying to use abandoned parts of the old asylum as shelter or that the person who shoved you into the elevator had simply acted reflexively, to protect himself when you barged out of the dark, and then panicked, running off when he saw you were hurt.” She was speaking ever more rapidly, as if racing through her thoughts aloud, her tone harsher. I didn’t like the desperation I heard. “And who knows, maybe that’s what happened after all—oh, Christ I’m stupid!” she exploded, angrily snapping off her own train of thought. “I’ve probably gotten us both into something that’s way over our heads— something that at the very least needs the police. And for the life of me I don’t know how we’re going to get a single shred of evidence to make anyone believe us.”
The words poured out of her, like the tears that started down her cheeks. I’d rarely seen Janet cry. I sat up, rather awkwardly, and put my arms around her. At first I felt her stiffen—she hated losing control—then she hugged me back, hard. I felt her body start to heave as she lost the battle to contain her sobs, and I felt my own tears roll down my face onto her slender magnificent shoulders. I held her like that until her crying ended and I felt her body relax against mine. She never noticed when the resident came through the curtain with his staff man, and I waved them away.
“I guess I don’t have to tell you I’m scared,” she sniffled when she spoke again, “especially after what happened to you tonight. God, I’m sorry, Earl, to have been so blind.”
“It’s okay,” I reassured her. “You were the least blind of all. No one else even thought of the Phantom.”
“Yeah, except you warned me about what might happen if we got close.” She pulled away and reached into her lab coat pocket for a tissue. “But if
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