“Tate! How can you say that?”

“And he said it was a couple years ago. When she was fifteen.”

“She didn’t, I’m certain.”

A wave of fury consumed him. His hands cramped on the steering wheel. “How could you not know? What were you so busy doing that you didn’t notice any condoms in your daughter’s purse? Didn’t you check who called her? Didn’t you notice what time she got home? Maybe at midnight? At one? Two?”

“Stop it!” Bett cried. “Don’t attack me. It’s not true! It’s a misunderstanding. We’ll find her and she’ll explain it.”

“They seemed to think-”

She screamed, “It’s a lie! It’s just gossip. That’s all it is! Gossip. Or they’re talking about somebody else. Not Megan.”

“Yes, Megan. And you should have-”

“Oh, you’re blaming me? It isn’t my fault! You know, you might have been more involved with her life.”

“Me?” he snapped.

“Okay-sure, your happy family didn’t turn out the way you wanted. Well, I’m sorry about that, Tate. But you could have checked on her once in a while.”

“I did. I paid support every month-”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, I don’t mean money You know how often she’d ask me, Why doesn’t Daddy like me? And I’d say, He does, he’s just busy with all his cases. And I’d say, It’s hard to be a real daddy when he and Mommy are divorced. And I’d say-”

“I spent Easters with her. And the Fourth of July,”

“Yeah, and you should’ve heard the debriefings on those joyous holidays.” Bett laughed coldly.

“What do you mean? She never complained.”

“You have to know somebody before you complain to them.”

“I took her shopping,” he said. “I always asked her about school. I-”

“You could’ve done more. We might’ve made some accommodation. Might’ve been a little more of a family.”

“Like hell,” he spat out.

“People’ve done it. In worse situations.”

“What was I supposed to do? Take up your slack?”

“This isn’t about me,” she snapped.

“Well, apparently it is. You’re her mother. You want somebody else to fix what you’ve done? Or haven’t done?”

“I’ve done the best I could!” Bett sobbed. “By myself.”

“But it wasn’t you yourself. It was you and the boyfriends.”

“Oh, I was supposed to be celibate?”

“No, but you were supposed to be a mother first. You should’ve noticed that she had problems.”

Tate couldn’t help but think of Bett’s sister, Susan. The woman had desperately wanted children, while Bell had always been indifferent to the idea. After her husband, Harris’s, death Susan had moved in with a man very briefly-he was abusive and, from what Tate heard, half crazy. But he was a single man-divorced or widowed-with a child. And Susan put up with a lot of crap from him just to have the young boy around; she desperately’ wanted someone to mother. After they’d broken up, the lover had turned dangerous and stalked her but even at the worst moments Susan still seemed to regret the loss of that child in her life. Tate now wished Bett had shown some of that desire for Megan.

“I saw she was unhappy,” Bett said. “But who the hell isn’t? What was I supposed to do? Wave a magic wand?”

His anger wouldn’t release the death grip it had on his heart. “Hell, that’s probably exactly your idea of mothering. Sure. Or cast a spell, look up something in the I Ching. Read her tarot.”

“Oh, stop it! I gave up all that shit years ago… I tried to be a good mother. I tried.”

“Did you?” he was astonished to find himself saying. “You sure you weren’t out looking for your King Arthur? Easier than changing diapers or helping her with homework or making sure when she was home after school. Making sure she wasn’t fucking-”

“I tried… I tried Bett was sobbing, shaking.

Tate realized the car was nudging eighty. He slowed. A deep breath. Another.

Long, long silence. His eyes, too, welled up with tears. “Listen, I’m sorry.”

“I tried. I wanted… I wanted..

“Bett, please. I’m sorry.”

“I wanted a family too, you know,” she whispered, wiping her face on the sleeve of her blouse. “I saw the Judge and his wife and you and the rest of the Colliers. I didn’t talk about it the way you did but I wanted a family too. But then things happened… You know.”

“I lost my temper. I don’t… You’re right. Those kids back there… it was probably just gossip.”

But his words were flaccid. And, of course, they came far too late. The damage had been done. He wondered if they’d separate now and never speak to each other again. He supposed that would happen. He supposed that it would have to.

And oddly, he realized how much the idea upset him, No, it terrified him; he had no idea why.

A long moment passed.

Bett spoke first. He was surprised to hear her say, in a calm, reasoned voice, “Maybe it’s true, Tate-what you heard about her. Maybe it is. And maybe part of it’s my fault. But you know, people change. They can. They really can.”

They continued on in silence. Bett closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the headrest.

What a man hears, he may doubt. What he sees, he may possibly doubt.

“Bett? I am sorry.” What he does… “Bett?”

But she didn’t answer.

15

She decided she was safest here, in her cell.

If the father-Aaron Matthews-had wanted to kill her he could have done so easily. He didn’t have to stash her away here, he didn’t have to buy all the food. No, no, she had this funny sense that though he kidnapped her he didn’t want to hurt her.

But the son… He was the threat. She needed protection from him. She’d stay here locked in Crazy Megan’s padded cell until she figured out how to escape.

She opened one of the files she’d taken from Peter’s room. In the dim light she scanned the pages, trying to find something that might help her. Maybe the hospital was near a town. Were there photos or brochures of the hospital and grounds? Maybe she could find a map. If she started a fire, people might see the smoke. Or maybe she’d find ventilation shafts or emergency exits. She remembered a padlocked door marked Basement down one of the corridors nearby. If she could break the lock on the door, were there exits down there she might get through? She flipped through the documents, looking for a picture or photo of the hospital-trying to find basement windows or doors she might climb out of.

Damn, that’s smart, says an impressed Crazy Megan.

Shhhh…

Megan happened to glance at the papers on the top of the pile.

…patient Victoria Skelling, 37, paranoid schizophrenic, was found dead in her room at 0620 hours, April 23. COD was asphyxia, from inhalation of mattress fibers. County police (see annexed report) investigated and declared the death suicide. It appeared patient Skelling gnawed through the canvas ducking of her mattress and pulled out wads of stuffing. She inhaled approximately ten ounces of this material, which lodged in her throat. The patient had been on Thorazine and Haldol, delusions were minimal. Orderlies described her in “good spirits” for much of the morning of her death but after spending the day on the grounds with a group of other patients she grew increasingly depressed and agitated. She complained that rats were coming to get her. They were going to chew her breasts off (earlier delusions and certain dreams centered around poisoned breast milk and suckling). She calmed again at dinnertime and spent the evening in the TV room. She was extremely upset when she went to bed and orderlies considered using restraints. She was given an extra dose of Haldol and locked into her room at 2200 hours. She said. “It’s time to take care of the rats. They win, they win.” She was found the next morning dead…

Gross, both Megan and C.M. think simultaneously.