Saving Meghan(92)

“I trust you because you’re the only one I have left,” Meghan said. “So, please, Mom, please don’t be messing with my head. Okay? I won’t be able to take it if you are.”

“Those news reports are lies,” Becky said. “Don’t believe them. I will never lie to you. I will always be honest. That’s a promise. Okay?”

Instead of a hug, Becky held out her hand to shake, like they were making a deal.

Meghan hesitated. “In that case, we should both be honest,” Meghan said.

“Okay, then let’s. You can tell me anything. Whatever’s troubling you, it’s all right. I promise. You can tell me.”

Meghan inhaled deeply. She looked at her mother with terror in her eyes, visibly distraught.

“There’s something you should know about Dad,” Meghan said. “He hit me. Hard.”





CHAPTER 43





ZACH


Zach rode the elevator up to the executive floor, feeling certain he was getting fired. What other reason could there be for summoning him to a meeting with Knox Singer? They blamed him for Becky Gerard. They blamed him for all the negative press White had been receiving. They could blame him all they wanted, but Zach had never told Becky to break her daughter out of a locked floor.

Those who wished to point fingers, however, were right about one thing—Zach was the one who had put the idea of mito in Becky’s mind, and from there the spark had turned into an all-consuming conflagration, which showed no sign of dying down. Zach may have felt responsible—hell, guilty even—for what had happened, but nothing had changed his mind about the diagnosis. Meghan had mito, same as Will had had mito. Without treatment, her symptoms would worsen, and eventually she’d be gone, just as Will was gone.

That’s how Becky had come to see it. That’s what had driven her to act. It’s also what crushed Zach all over again. If he had been like Becky—more determined, more convinced that something was direly wrong with his son—if he had listened to Stacy, acted sooner and with urgency, the outcome might have been different for them. He might have slowed down the disease, bought himself another day, or month, or maybe even years with his boy.

Zach understood that the truth was more complicated and nuanced than that. Doctors had learned a tremendous amount about mito since Will’s death, but there’d been no breakthroughs, no proof that early and aggressive intervention would have given his son a longer life. Even so, Zach took any chance he got to cast blame on himself, like a pious man convinced self-flagellation was the only way to repent.

Zach entered the crowded executive conference room expecting an ambush, not the police. But there they were, Detectives Capshaw and Spence with the Boston PD, the same pair who had interviewed him about Dr. Levine. They stood by a tall bank of windows overlooking a panoramic view of the Boston skyline, dressed in suits with shiny badges hanging from lanyards draped around their necks.

Also present were Knox Singer and Amanda Nash. Singer, dressed sharply as always, not a hair out of place, looked ready to pounce. Nash looked utterly drained. Her coloring was off, and her glasses magnified the dark circles around her eyes. Standing near Nash was Carl, looking angry as ever.

Rounding out the guest list were Annabel Hope and Jill Mendoza, both of whom Zach recognized from his day in court. He wondered if the police had examined his phone records, which he believed required a warrant and would be hard to get so fast. If somehow they did get those records, they’d find a call to his cell phone from Becky, who had his private number. She had called not long before the breakout, but only to vent about Kelly London’s betrayal, nothing more.

Carl turned his attention to Zach, balling his hands into fists at his sides. Zach half expected everyone to circle around them, chanting: Fight! Fight! Fight! Thankfully, Carl’s jab was verbal.

“Hope you’re happy with yourself,” he said.

“Carl,” Zach answered simply. “Blaming me isn’t going to help get Meghan back.”

“No, it’s not,” he said. “But I’m going to sue the shit out of you, Fisher. I’m going to ruin you.”

Zach responded with a wan smile. Color rushed to Carl’s cheeks as he whispered something into Nash’s ear. Maybe he was asking her to be an expert witness in his forthcoming malpractice suit. What did Zach care? Lawsuits were the furthest thing from his mind.

“Let’s all sit down,” Singer said.

There was muted talk as people found their respective chairs. The two cops sat near the whiteboard at the front of the room. Knox took a middle seat at the table, flanked by Nash on one side and Carl on the other. The team from DCF sat a few chairs away from Zach, as if the physical separation would underscore whose side they were on.

After introductions were made, Singer said, “Listen, Zach, we’ve been meeting all day, trying to sort this out. We need to get this girl back.”

“Understood. Not sure how I can help. I’m just a doctor.”

“We need to get a bit creative here,” Detective Spence said.

“What about the Amber Alert?” asked Zach. “Doesn’t that usually work?”

“Usually, yes,” said Capshaw, the more sturdily built of the two detectives. “But we’ve canceled the alert.”

“We found a hair in the food cart that services the floor Meghan Gerard escaped from,” said Spence. “Everything was well orchestrated—the mother created a distraction while Meghan hid in that cart. What that tells us is that Meghan was an active participant in her escape, not a kidnapping victim, which means we no longer consider her to be in immediate danger.”