LITMIR.BIZ

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it more seriously. With your permission we’ll put in for a consensual Title Three wiretap. I’d like to add it to your home phone and computers as well. Then we can see in real time if you receive more threats, and we can track the IP address.”

      “Of course,” Kate said.

      “I have equipment with me that can take a mirror image of your phone. When we finish I’ll do that, and we’ll see if we can trace this text and find out who sent it. Whatever you do, don’t respond if you hear from him again. If this is a crank, that’s exactly what he wants you to do.” He gave Kate a sympathetic look. “I’m very sorry that you have to deal with this on top of everything else.”

      Kate felt only slight relief as her husband walked Anderson to the door. She thought back to the last time she’d gotten terrifying news on her phone, that awful night when Harrison had found Lily. She’d seen her father’s number pop up, and when she answered, he’d sounded frantic.

      “Kate. She’s gone. She’s gone, Kate,” he sobbed across the line.

      “Dad, what are you talking about?” Panic spread through her body.

      “Someone broke in. They killed her. Oh my God, this can’t be real. It can’t be true.”

      Kate had barely been able to understand his words, he was crying so hard. “Who broke in? Mother? Mother is dead?”

      “Blood. Blood everywhere.”

      “What happened? Have you called an ambulance?” she asked him, her voice high-pitched, hysteria threatening to overtake her.

      “What am I going to do, Katie? What am I going to do?”

      “Dad, listen to me. Have you called nine-one-one?” But all that came through had been his hacking sobs.

      She had leaped into her car and driven the fifteen miles to her parents’ home in a daze, texting Simon to meet her there ASAP. She could see the red and blue flashing lights from two blocks away. When she neared the house, her SUV was stopped by a police barricade. As she got out of it, she saw Simon’s Porsche pull up behind her. EMTs, police, and crime-scene investigators were going in and out of the house. Her panic swelling, Kate ran from the car and pushed her way through the crowd, but an officer barred her way, standing there with his arms crossed, legs in a wide stance, and an angry scowl on his face. “Sorry, ma’am. This is an active crime scene.”

      “I’m her daughter,” she said, trying to push past him, as Simon rushed to her side. “Please.”

      The officer shook his head and put a hand out in front of her. “Someone will be out to speak to you. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to step back.”

      And then they watched and waited together, horrified, as investigators came and went, carrying cameras and bags and boxes, putting up yellow crime-scene tape, and refusing to even look in their direction. It hadn’t taken long for the television crews to arrive, with their cameras focusing on the breathless reporters, mics in hand, detailing every gruesome detail they could glean. Kate wanted to press her hands to her ears when she heard them say the victim’s skull had been bashed in.

      Finally she saw her father being led out of the house. Without thinking, she rushed toward him. Before she’d taken more than a few steps, powerful hands grabbed her and held her in place.

      “Let me go,” she yelled, struggling against the officer restraining her. Tears streamed down her face, and when the police car pulled away, she cried out, “Where are they taking him? Let me go, damn it. Where is my mother? I need to see my mother.”

      He had loosened his hold then, but not his expression. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t allow you inside.”

      “My father should be with her,” Kate cried. Simon had appeared beside her, and she inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself. Even though she was still angry at him, his presence was comforting.

      “Where have they taken him? Dr. Michaels, my wife’s father—where have they taken him?” Simon said, putting a protective arm around Kate.

      “To the station for questioning.”

      “Questioning?” Kate asked.

      A woman in uniform approached Kate. “Are you the daughter of Lily Michaels?”

      “Yes. Dr. Kate English.”

      “I’m afraid your mother is deceased. I’m very sorry for your loss.” The officer paused for a moment. “We’ll need you to come to the station to answer a few questions.”

      Sorry for your loss? So perfunctory. Glib, even. Is that how the families of patients saw her when she gave them bad news? She had followed the officer, but all she could think about was her mother lying dead, being photographed and scrutinized by investigators, studied by medical examiners, and finally taken to the morgue for an autopsy. She’d seen her share of autopsies in medical school. They weren’t pretty.

      “Have you eaten anything?” Simon asked, startling her out of her memories as he entered the room.

      “I’m not hungry.”

      “What about a little soup? Your father said that Fleur made some homemade chicken rice.”

      Kate ignored him, and he sighed loudly, sitting in the chair next to a flower arrangement from her colleagues at the hospital, fingering the tip of a leaf as he read the card. “Nice of them,” he said. “You really should eat, even a bite of something.”

      “Simon, please. Just stop, will you?” She didn’t want him acting all husbandly and caring after all the tension of the past few months. When the arguments and bad feelings had reached the point where Kate couldn’t concentrate on her work or anything else, she’d gone to Lily. It was just a few weeks ago that they’d sat by the fireplace in her parents’ cozy den, warmed by the flames, Kate in her hospital scrubs and Lily exquisite in white wool pants and cashmere sweater. Lily had looked at Kate intently, her face serious. “What is it, darling? You sounded terribly upset on the phone.”

      “It’s Simon. He’s …” She’d stopped, not knowing where to begin. “Mother, do you remember Sabrina?”

      Lily frowned, giving Kate a puzzled look.

      “You remember. Her father was the one who sort of took over when Simon’s father died, became a mentor to Simon? Sabrina was a junior bridesmaid at our wedding.”

      “Ah, yes. I remember. She was just a child.”

      “Yes, she was twelve years old at the time.” Kate leaned forward in the chair. “Do you remember how, the morning of the wedding, as we were all here getting ready, Sabrina went MIA? I went to look for her. She was in one of the guest rooms, sitting on the edge of the bed and crying. I started to go in, but then I saw that her father was with her, so I stood to the side, out of sight. She was terribly upset that Simon was getting married. Told her father that she’d always believed Simon would wait for her to grow up and marry her. She sounded so pitiful.”

      Lily’s eyes widened, but her face remained calm. “I’d forgotten that, but it was years ago. She was young and had a crush.”

      Kate’s face had grown red. “But nothing has changed. I tried to understand and be kind, I really did. Her mother died when she was five, and I thought maybe I could be a good friend, even a confidante.” Kate sighed. “She completely rebuffed my efforts. Oh, she was never rude in front of Simon, but when we were alone, she made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with me. And now, ever since her father died, she’s clingier than ever, calling all the time, wanting more and more of Simon’s time.”

      “Kate, what does that have to do with you, really? As long as Simon isn’t encouraging her, you don’t have anything to be upset about. And the poor girl is an orphan at such a young age.”

      “But that’s just it. He is encouraging her. Whenever she calls with some sort of problem or something that needs fixing, he jumps. And she’s calling more

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