“What happened?”

“It looks like she overdosed on sleeping pills. Maybe some alcohol as well.”

“Oh no.” Meg now. She had started to cry. “I didn't realize… I mean, I knew she was upset, but I didn't think…”

“No one could know,” Jillian said, but the words were automatic, lacking genuine conviction. They were Carol's friends; they'd seen her just this morning. Maybe they should have known. Meg's mother put an arm around her daughter's shoulders.

“And where was the husband during all this?” Uncle Vinnie boomed.

Toppi shrugged and looked at Griffin. He said simply, “Out.”

“Figures,” Uncle Vinnie snorted.

“I can't take this,” Jillian said. “I'm going to find a doctor.”

She headed for the receptionist's desk, and wasn't surprised when Griffin followed.

“How could you?” she railed at him the moment they were out of earshot of the others. Her hands were still shaking. She felt sick to the bottom of her stomach with worry for Carol.

“How could I what?”

“Get my mom involved in all of this!”

“Oh don't you start!” Toppi had just caught up with them, and she barreled into the conversation fiercely. “Look at her! Glance over your shoulder and just look at her!”

Jillian thinned her lips mutinously, but did as she was told. Her mom now had Meg's father and uncle literally at her feet. The two men were talking animatedly. Her mother was smiling.

“She looks pretty good to me,” Griffin said.

Jillian stabbed his overpumped chest with her finger. “You are not allowed to speak.” Then she turned back on Toppi. “She's fragile-”

“She's fine.”

“EMTs put her on oxygen just last night!”

“She had a shock.”

“And finding Carol on the floor of her home wasn't shocking?”

“Probably, but I imagine it was still worse for Carol.”

“Oh!” Jillian was so mad she yanked on her gathered hair. “I don't want her involved!”

“Too late. She's your mother. She's involved.”

“She'll just worry more.”

Toppi snorted. “She was already worried. This finally gave her something to do.”

“Toppi!”

“Jillian!” Toppi mocked. “Look, I'm being serious now. When Sergeant Griffin called, I asked your mom what she wanted to do. She didn't hesitate for a second. Carol is your friend. Libby was delighted to help her in any way we could. And it's a damn good thing, too.” Toppi's voice finally quieted. “I know she wasn't around much when you were a child, Jillian. But you're not a child anymore. You grew up. Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe she did, too?”

Toppi walked back to the group, where Meg was now leaning her head against her mother's shoulder and Libby was flipping rapidly through her picture book to the apparent delight of Tom and Uncle Vinnie. Jillian turned back to Griffin. “Don't say it,” she warned.

“Haven't muttered a word.”

“She's wrong, you know. Toppi's the one who doesn't get it. I know my mom has changed. But I've never had a father, and I no longer have a sister. Libby… She's all I have left.”

At the receptionist's desk, no one would help her. She wasn't family, and in the eyes of medical protocol being a fellow rape victim didn't count. They knew who Jillian was, of course. The nurse in charge was even kind. And then for the first time, Jillian realized the full implication of where they were. Women amp; Infants. One of Providence's best hospitals and where each one of them had been at least once before… On those nights, that night, the night.

She turned away, no longer so steady on her feet. Of all the strange bonds… And then she suddenly realized that she couldn't lose Carol. She just couldn't. Carol had to survive and then it would be Jillian, Carol and Meg again, sitting in the back room of some restaurant, and arguing or laughing, or being petty or being genuine, but certainly helping one another cope.

She had started the Survivors Club with so much purpose, but maybe at the end of the day, the group had worked even better than Jillian had thought. Because standing here now, she couldn't imagine not seeing Carol. She couldn't imagine even a week going by without it being her, Carol and Meg.

“Sit,” Griffin said quietly. “Wait.”

“I can't sit. I don't know how to wait. That's my whole problem.” Her fingers had closed around his sleeve. She didn't know when that had happened. “Oh God, I just want to know that Carol is all right.”

A door on the left suddenly swung open; Dan Rosen walked through. His features were ashen. His dark hair stood up in a rumpled mess on top of his head, while his left arm stood out prominently in a white sling. He wore a tan jacket with a gold tie, as if he'd once been on his way to work. Now he didn't seem to know where he was.

Jillian took one look at his face and felt the world tilt again beneath her feet. “Oh no…”

“Mr. Rosen,” Griffin said quietly.

“Huh. What?”

“Dan?” Jillian whispered more urgently.

He finally seemed to register their presence. “Oh. Hello, Jillian.”

“Is she? Please, Dan?”

“They're pumping her stomach. Treating her… an activated charcoal slurry, I think the doctor said. She took all her Ambien. Booze, too. Not good, not good at all. Ambien plus booze equals a coma, that's what the doctor said.” Dan looked at Griffin shakily. “He said… he said if you hadn't gotten to her so soon, she'd probably be dead.”

“She's been drinking?”

“I guess. And her throat…” His fingers touched his own. “Her esophagus is… aggravated. I think that's how the doctor said it. And her back teeth show signs of erosion. From bile, he told me. When she makes herself sick.”

It took Jillian a moment. “Bulimia?”

“He thinks. So my wife, it appears, spends her free time eating too much and maybe drinking too much and then making herself sick. Over and over again. I swear I didn't know.” He looked at them, still dazed. “Jillian, did you know?”

“I didn't know.”

“You should've, though.” Meg had come over while they were speaking. Now she had her hands placed authoritatively on her jean-clad hips while she regarded Dan with an imperious stare. “We were her friends, but we only saw her once or twice a week. You lived with her. How could you not know what she was doing?”

“I've been… working.”

“Meg,” Jillian tried. She was too late.

“Working?” Meg said. “Or playing with your girlfriend?”

“What?” Dan's head popped up. “What?”

“Oh don't play innocent with us.” Meg was on a roll now, and everyone, including Sergeant Griffin, was watching with great interest. “Carol told us all about it. Your pathetic excuses of late-night meetings and overburdened workload. She called your office, you know. She knew you weren't really there. That night she was raped-she knew what you were really doing.”

“Carol thinks I'm sleeping with another woman?” Dan asked in a strangled voice.

“Oh come on-”

“I'm not. I swear I'm not. I wouldn't do that to Carol. My God, I love my wife!”

“You're never home!” Meg cried.

“I know.”

“You're never at work!”

“I know.”

“Then where the hell are you?”

Dan didn't answer. He simply looked stricken. And then another voice spoke up from across the hushed waiting room.

“Foxwoods,” Uncle Vinnie announced. “Danny boy's not a cheater. He's a gambler. And if you don't mind me saying, he's a really bad one, too.”

Next to Jillian, Dan Rosen nodded his head miserably. “I love my wife,” he said again. Then he turned away and slammed his one good hand into the wall.

“You're going to have to tell me everything,” Griffin said to Dan ten minutes later. He had commandeered an empty exam room in an attempt at privacy. Of course, Jillian, Meg and the rest of their entourage had immediately followed him and Dan into the room, and were now looking at them both as if they had every right to be there. Griffin considered kicking them out but figured what the hell. Vinnie Pesaturo obviously had relevant information, and Jillian and Meg seemed to be the interrogative equivalent of brass knuckles. All they had to do was look at Dan, and he gave up the store.