morning. At first he wouldn’t identify himself. When I told him we could only give a status report on the patient to immediate family, he said he was the patient’s father.” Carrie looked across at her. “That’s how he put it. ‘The patient’s father.’ Not ‘Lynn,’ not ‘my daughter.’ ‘The patient.’ ”
Nat wasn’t surprised at Peter Everett’s choice of words, but she was surprised he’d called. Of course, she had no way of knowing if it was actually him. Although, again, his choice of words tended to lend credibility. Nat wondered if Leo had already been in contact with Lynn’s father.
“I don’t think he’s ever adjusted to having a transsexual child,” Nat commented. Talk about an understatement.
“I don’t imagine it would be an easy thing to accept.”
“No,” Nat agreed. “Not easy.” She paused for a moment and then asked, “How did he sound on the phone?”
Carrie took a small sip of her tea. “Uncomfortable, first and foremost. But I sensed concern.”
“And when you told him she was still listed as critical?”
“He muttered a formal ‘thank you’ and abruptly hung up.” “Have there been any other calls?”
Carrie seemed suddenly distracted, her gaze drifting away from Nat.
“What is it?” Nat asked.
“There was this woman over at one of the tables near the door . . . she looked familiar.”
Even as Nat turned to see who it was, Carrie said, “She left. I could sense her watching us. As soon as I caught her eye, she popped up and took off.”
Nat spotted a cup of coffee and an untouched muffin at an
empty table. “What did she look like?” she asked.
“Tall, thin, blonde hair down to her shoulders, very pretty. Maybe late twenties, or at least she looked it from here. Definitely patrician.”
Nat scowled. The first woman who came to mind was Jennifer Slater. But Slater was closer to fifty than thirty. Still, a good facelift . . . Nat wished she’d caught a glimpse of her. “If you spot her again—”
“I’ll let you know,” Carrie said. “And I’ll try to find out who she is. I know I’ve seen her somewhere before. Maybe it’ll come to me.” She shrugged. “Anyway, as to phone calls, I haven’t personally taken any others besides Lynn’s dad, but I did check the Ingram call-in sheet before I came down.” Carrie pulled out a slip of paper from the hip pocket of her crisp white uniform. “Last night at eleven fifty-two, Dr. Harrison Bell called. He called again at a little past seven a.m. Dr. Ross Varda called at eight this morning. Lynn’s mother called right after the psychiatrist. Oh, and a priest called at nine-twenty a.m. ... a Father Joe. There were also two unidentified calls noted—one at ten-fifty last night, another at shortly past nine a.m.”
She looked up from the paper. “I was at the nurse’s station when that last call came in. Janice Bailey, the head nurse on duty, took it. Janice said it was a woman caller but she wouldn’t identify herself. When Janice told her she couldn’t give out any information, the woman hung up. She must have been angry, because Janice said she slammed the phone down hard.”
Nat’s eyes strayed to the empty table where a cafeteria worker was gathering up the muffin and coffee. “How about any visitors?”
“None so far. But it’s early. And only family are being allowed in.”
Nat was walking up the concrete walk to Horizon House later that morning when someone came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder.
She nearly jumped out of her skin. Then she spun around, stepped back, and shot her fists up, all in defensive mode.
The young man—tall, husky, dark-haired, handsome enough to be a movie actor—looked almost as alarmed as she must have looked.
“Superintendent Price? I’m Bill Walker of WBBS’s evening news. I’m terribly sorry if I—”
Nat dropped her arms to her side, but she was feeling no less defensive. The media. Why were they always around when things
Nat wasn’t surprised at Peter Everett’s choice of words, but she was surprised he’d called. Of course, she had no way of knowing if it was actually him. Although, again, his choice of words tended to lend credibility. Nat wondered if Leo had already been in contact with Lynn’s father.
“I don’t think he’s ever adjusted to having a transsexual child,” Nat commented. Talk about an understatement.
“I don’t imagine it would be an easy thing to accept.”
“No,” Nat agreed. “Not easy.” She paused for a moment and then asked, “How did he sound on the phone?”
Carrie took a small sip of her tea. “Uncomfortable, first and foremost. But I sensed concern.”
“And when you told him she was still listed as critical?”
“He muttered a formal ‘thank you’ and abruptly hung up.” “Have there been any other calls?”
Carrie seemed suddenly distracted, her gaze drifting away from Nat.
“What is it?” Nat asked.
“There was this woman over at one of the tables near the door . . . she looked familiar.”
Even as Nat turned to see who it was, Carrie said, “She left. I could sense her watching us. As soon as I caught her eye, she popped up and took off.”
Nat spotted a cup of coffee and an untouched muffin at an
empty table. “What did she look like?” she asked.
“Tall, thin, blonde hair down to her shoulders, very pretty. Maybe late twenties, or at least she looked it from here. Definitely patrician.”
Nat scowled. The first woman who came to mind was Jennifer Slater. But Slater was closer to fifty than thirty. Still, a good facelift . . . Nat wished she’d caught a glimpse of her. “If you spot her again—”
“I’ll let you know,” Carrie said. “And I’ll try to find out who she is. I know I’ve seen her somewhere before. Maybe it’ll come to me.” She shrugged. “Anyway, as to phone calls, I haven’t personally taken any others besides Lynn’s dad, but I did check the Ingram call-in sheet before I came down.” Carrie pulled out a slip of paper from the hip pocket of her crisp white uniform. “Last night at eleven fifty-two, Dr. Harrison Bell called. He called again at a little past seven a.m. Dr. Ross Varda called at eight this morning. Lynn’s mother called right after the psychiatrist. Oh, and a priest called at nine-twenty a.m. ... a Father Joe. There were also two unidentified calls noted—one at ten-fifty last night, another at shortly past nine a.m.”
She looked up from the paper. “I was at the nurse’s station when that last call came in. Janice Bailey, the head nurse on duty, took it. Janice said it was a woman caller but she wouldn’t identify herself. When Janice told her she couldn’t give out any information, the woman hung up. She must have been angry, because Janice said she slammed the phone down hard.”
Nat’s eyes strayed to the empty table where a cafeteria worker was gathering up the muffin and coffee. “How about any visitors?”
“None so far. But it’s early. And only family are being allowed in.”
Nat was walking up the concrete walk to Horizon House later that morning when someone came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder.
She nearly jumped out of her skin. Then she spun around, stepped back, and shot her fists up, all in defensive mode.
The young man—tall, husky, dark-haired, handsome enough to be a movie actor—looked almost as alarmed as she must have looked.
“Superintendent Price? I’m Bill Walker of WBBS’s evening news. I’m terribly sorry if I—”
Nat dropped her arms to her side, but she was feeling no less defensive. The media. Why were they always around when things
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