He took a deep breath and held it. My own breathing was shallow.

“So, from this moment forward, I’m going to assume that my niece is getting the best goddamn psychological care available on the face of this planet. Does that sit well with you, my assuming that?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Because if you jeopardize that care in any way, if you put Merritt at any risk by bailing out on her because of some misguided sense of propriety or because you decide some of your precious professional ethics are being threatened, well, God help you.”

“Sam-”

“Shut up. See, I know you better than you think, Alan. I’ve watched you in crisis. When things get hot, at first you’re a jumble of conflicting emotions, a damn philosopher in a foxhole. Dangerous shit, that. I also know that when things go from hot to flaming, you are able to do things that make me proud you’re my friend. Looking back, more than once, you’ve shown me you can take the heat.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m not going to pressure you to tell me Merritt’s secrets or to tell me what makes Brenda and John tick. All I’m going to do is to make sure you know that we, this family, are fast descending into a hell I could never imagine. And that makes this situation as hot as it gets. All I ask of you is that you make me proud one more time, buddy. That’s all.”

With an effort that seemed monumental, he lifted himself out of the car and closed the door gently.

Eight

I left Sam at the police station, drove home, and checked my voice mail. John Trent had left a “returning your call” message at my office number.

Given the difficulty I’d had reaching Merritt’s stepfather, I’d toyed with the idea of leaving him a message and extending the professional courtesy of providing him my home phone number, but decided that such an offer was premature.

In the meantime, our telephone tag continued.

I replayed the message he’d left, listening for nuance. “Dr. Gregory, John Trent returning your call. I’ll be in Denver tonight and most of tomorrow. Call anytime until, say, midnight or after seven tomorrow. Thanks. I should be at the same number you used the last time.”

John’s tone on the recording was calm and level. I wondered whether, despite my clinical training and experience, I could muster such an even tone in the face of the multiple stresses that John Trent was suffering.

But before I returned the call, I knew that Emily required some attention and some exercise. We headed outside and I threw a tennis ball as far down the lane as I could. Emily sprang after it, tracked it well, and pounced on it. She swooped it up, shook it a couple of times to be certain it was dead, dropped it exactly where she was, and ran back to me. With Bouviers, there was no telling if she planned to stop her galloping advance before she plowed into my knees, so I had to jump out of her way to avoid a collision that could easily sever both my ACLs.

I threw a second tennis ball. She repeated the chase-it-and-kill-it-and-leave-it-where-it-dies scenario. I knew from frustrating experience that this game was the Bouvier des Flandres version of fetch. It was reasonable fun for the dog, I supposed, but required an unusually healthy supply of tennis balls. After repeating the scheme with half a dozen more balls, Emily was panting, I was bored, and I had only a few minutes left to reach John Trent before midnight. I’d collect the tennis balls sometime tomorrow.

I grabbed a bottle of raspberry lemonade from the kitchen and took the portable phone with me into the living room. I hit the shuffle button on the CD player and wondered what disc would come up.

I was guessing that I was going to get some Basia that Lauren liked, but the music that filled the room was a Jimmy Buffet album that I didn’t remember loading into the changer. Must have been Lauren’s, too. It made me smile.

John Trent answered on the first ring and said hello absently, as though he were picking up the phone at home.

There was an accent there, something I couldn’t quite place, something that had been tempered by time, certainly, and effort, maybe.

“Hello. May I speak with John Trent, please.”

“Speaking.”

“This is Alan Gregory.”

“Dr. Gregory-finally-thanks for calling back. I’m sorry I’ve been so difficult to reach.”

It wasn’t often that a fellow psychologist called me “Doctor,” and I was puzzled by the formality. “It happens, we’re both busy.” Over the years, I’d struggled to find ways to use small talk to grease my entrance into people’s misery. It never worked. Better to move directly to the meat. I said, “As I’m sure you know, I was called in to evaluate your older daughter after her ingestion, and-”

“Stepdaughter, for the record. I’m prouder than proud to call her my daughter, but technically, I’m just Merritt’s stepfather. She’s a great kid, isn’t she? God, I feel so bad about this.”

“I’ve hardly had a chance to get to know her, but that’s what everyone says, that she’s a special young woman. May I call you John?”

“Please, of course. My hands have been really full with Chaney since the weekend. She’s had to have a couple of difficult imaging procedures. Her doctors are quite concerned about her blood gases and her lung function. I feel terrible that I haven’t even made it back to Boulder for Merritt. Brenda and I thought that, well, since Brenda’s her mom, she should be the one to see Merritt first. One of us stays in Denver with Chaney all the time.”

I had anticipated some defensiveness from John about the impossible decisions he had to make to juggle his concern for his two daughters. I wasn’t disappointed.

“My sympathy goes to you and your whole family about Chaney. I can’t imagine the stress you’re under. You don’t have any easy choices now, do you?”

“No, Dr. Gregory, I don’t. The only thing more painful than being with Chaney right now is not being able to be with Merritt.” John’s voice remained level, but it took on a hollow ring, as though he had cupped the microphone close to his mouth with an open hand.

I wasn’t sure how far to carry my compassion about the family’s complicated circumstances. I reminded myself that my focus, and my patient, was Merritt. “Merritt’s ingestion was almost fatal, John. I’m sure you can understand that I’m very worried about her state of mind, especially about any continued suicidal ideation, and I would be grateful for any insight you might have about her mood prior to the weekend, or for her motivation for taking all those drugs.”

“You know I’m a psychologist too, don’t you?”

“Yes, my partner, Diane Estevez, has mentioned your name, and Brenda reminded me as well when she and I met.”

“Psychologists’ kids aren’t supposed to do this sort of thing, right? That’s what you’re thinking?” He paused and processed his own words. “Whatever, that’s what I’m thinking.”

I wondered whether I was hearing guilt or a prelude to something else. “I don’t think we’re immune, if that’s what you mean.”

“I’m talking about what I missed. I didn’t see it coming. I’ve gone over the past few weeks in my mind, every last detail of every last second I spent with Merritt or talked with her over the past month and, darn it, I didn’t see it coming. Not a hint. I’m not pretending I’m in perfect touch with her lately-I’m here with Chaney almost all the time I’m not working. My practice isn’t that busy and it’s more flexible than Brenda’s job. I usually sleep here and I have the cafeteria menu memorized. That’s not an excuse-it’s a choice Brenda and I made-but Merritt’s been left out in the cold ever since Chaney became so ill. There’s no need to sugarcoat it. We’ve done what we can do, but she’s been the forgotten kid.”

“There was no one you could call on to help with her? With Merritt?” I was fishing now for some admission about Sam and Sherry, but hoped only the lure I was using, and not the line, was apparent.