“She didn’t say?”

“Not exactly, no. Actually, when I asked if she knew him, she denied it.”

Sam said, “But maybe she knew of him? You know, from her work. Maybe she was investigating him or one of his companies for one of her little features?”

“Cozy just told me who he was. He has more than one company?”

“One major one, that’s MedExcel; I’m sure you’ve heard of that one. A couple of smaller related things that he started recently.”

“I’ll ask her about it, but I don’t think she’s going to tell me the truth.”

Sam nodded. “If Sherry were here, she would be agreeing with that. She thinks that Brenda knows as much about honesty as Simon knows about nuclear physics.”

Finally, I had an inkling of what the feud was about. Brenda’s lack of honesty was part of Sherry’s indictment of her sister. I changed the subject in order to feel Sam out about my plans for the next day.

“I put Merritt on a seventy-two-hour hold tonight. I’m trying to find an adolescent bed in a psychiatric hospital for her. Will the police object to that, to moving her to a psychiatric hospital?”

He was fiddling with the glove box knob. “Probably, but you never know. They may argue that they handle suicide watches better than the hospitals do. If I were you, I would have a judge-proof argument ready, in writing, in case they challenge you. Where are you thinking of putting her?”

“Maybe Centennial Peaks, but I called already and the charge nurse on the evening shift thinks they’re full, though they may have a female bed-maybe-coming free by the weekend. There’s that new place in Niwot, but I don’t have privileges out there and they’re getting mixed reviews from people I know, anyway. I’ll call them first thing tomorrow.”

Sam said, “Wait a second. What about Denver? At Children’s? You worked there once, right?”

“Yes.”

“It would sure make things easier for John and Brenda, having both kids at the same hospital, don’t you think?”

I hadn’t considered the advantages of transferring Merritt to The Children’s Hospital, probably because it would mean a round-trip daily commute to Denver for me to see her for treatment.

“It’s a long way to go, Sam.”

“That’s my point. Save Brenda and John a ton of commuting. You still okay with the people at Children’s, haven’t burned any bridges?”

“Yes, I still have privileges there.”

“Well?”

“I’ll think about it. You want Merritt out of Boulder for some reason?”

“Why would I want that?”

He had that look on his face, so I let it drop. “I don’t want her at Fort Logan, Sam. I’ll warn you now that no matter where she ends up being admitted, I’m going to try my best to get an ambulance transfer completed before the DA gets all his ducks in a row. I’m thinking it’s going to be easier to get a transfer accomplished before the courts and the cops are formally involved.”

He didn’t actually smile, but his mouth widened. “You’re thinking clearly now.”

“Can I take you somewhere, Sam? I’m about ready to go home.”

“No, I want to hang around until Merritt’s protection shows up. Maybe stop in and see her before I go. It’s important to show her we’re behind her, right?”

“Absolutely. You’re a good uncle, Sam Purdy. She’s lucky to have you.”

“I don’t know about that. What she needs right now, I’m afraid, is magic. And I’m no magician.”

“Try and convince Lauren and me of that.” Sam’s police magic had saved my butt and my wife’s butt more than once.

He opened the car door and stepped out. “Think seriously about Children’s. Think of it mostly in terms of what’s best for Merritt. And remember a couple of things. First, sometimes friends lose sleep for friends. And second, I’ll pay gas, even for this bus.”

“You know that’s not necessary.”

“Good, because I was kidding. I do want to know what that friend of Merritt’s says tomorrow.”

I was halfway home when I guessed at Merritt’s motive for killing Dead Ed.

For the first time, I had serious doubts about her innocence.

Fourteen

I drove the rest of the way home thinking about Sam’s proposal to hospitalize Merritt in Denver. There would certainly be advantages for John and Brenda, and God knew they could use any break I could offer them. I also suspected that Sam’s idea had something to do with Sherry and Brenda that he wasn’t talking about.

Emily was thrilled to see me. I’d left her in her dog run while I was gone and when I opened the gate she ran free like an escaped felon. I offered a quick walk down the lane and promised her a meal and a bowl of ice water upon our return. She seemed to think the plan was great, but then, Emily usually thought I was pretty brilliant.

It was one of my favorite things about her.

Lauren had called while I’d been out discovering that Merritt was likely to be arrested for murder.

Bee-eep.

“Hi, hon, it’s me. You there?…Thought you would be home. Is there a hockey game tonight? I can’t keep up. Things are fine here, all things considered. Mom’s doing the same. I miss you. I hope you miss me. Give Emily a big hug for me and call me tomorrow. I’m going to bed early. I love you. I mean that. I do.”

Lauren usually went to bed early these days. Since the serious exacerbation of her multiple sclerosis that had taken place last autumn, her accommodation to her illness had gone through a major metamorphosis.

Since she had disclosed her illness to me when we were dating, I’d always marveled at her adaptiveness, at how invisible she was able to make her disease appear-or, I guess, disappear. Sure, there were times when I knew she was anchored in place by fatigue or absolutely distracted by some ephemeral pain or unexplainable weakness, but most of the time Lauren managed to appear to live a life unencumbered by her illness. That I knew it wasn’t true only managed to make the illusion seem even more magical.

But no more.

The blindness that had struck her last fall persisted to some degree for weeks, and the residual effects were still apparent. Her vision, once so acute and a source of pride, was now compromised by gaps and holes and acuity problems that vexed her daily. She made a silent, unexplained transition from reading the newspaper to watching television in order to absorb current events, and the pile of novels by her bed wasn’t getting smaller anymore. She hinted twice that the nineteen-inch TV in our bedroom wasn’t really big enough for the room, was it?

The new one I purchased is twenty-seven inches. Much less optimistic than her, I pressed for a thirty-two-inch model. Denial, I think, caused her to insist on the smaller one.

Pain that once struck her occasionally was now a daily siege of heavy afternoon artillery, wreaking constant, wearying, aching damage on the bones and muscles of her legs and hips, sometimes on her hands and shoulders.

When I asked, she complained that her legs were often “heavy” now, and the once daily walks we took with Emily, our dog, on the dirt lanes near our home at sunset were now the exception and not the rule.

She didn’t return to work until February 1, and was only now beginning to adopt a caseload in the DA’s office that approached half-time. I could see in her face that she wasn’t sure she could really do it anymore, but she wasn’t ready, yet, to talk about not really doing it anymore.

Alone, I saw all these changes, and alone, I’m sure she did, too.

We rarely mentioned this new evolution of our relationship. I was giving her room to believe that her denial had some validity-that her stubborn belief that all things MS-related would soon pass would again be borne out.

The reality was going to be different this time, I suspected. Although MS is not contagious to other individuals, and I knew I would never catch it from her, I had begun to believe it was a communicable disease within families, and within relationships, and that our relationship was going to need to find a way to adjust to having been freshly stricken.