Saving Meghan(93)

“She’s sick and needs treatment for her disease,” Zach said. “I’d say she is in danger.”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Carl spat out. “Can we please not go there?”

“Zach, not here,” Singer joined in.

“Actually, that’s why we’ve asked to meet with you,” Capshaw said. “From our interviews, we understand that this disease, mito, whatever that is, is at the heart of the matter, and that Becky believes her daughter needs treatment for this condition. Is that correct?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“It’s not a fast-moving disease. Is that right?” Spence asked.

“In a normal presentation, no, it’s not,” Zach said. “But Meghan has experienced several unusual flare-ups: an intense, rapid-onset of various symptoms that are atypical for mitochondrial disease.”

“You should know that those flare-ups Dr. Fisher speaks of had no correlating physical cause,” Nash said. “In fact, we strongly suspect Meghan is afflicted with a somatic symptom disorder.”

“What’s that?” Spence asked.

“It’s when a person feels extreme anxiety about physical symptoms, such as pain or fatigue. The patient isn’t faking the symptoms per se. To them, the pain and other problems are real, but often, as is the case with Meghan, no physical cause can be determined. And I, for one, believe that the mother has contributed significantly to Meghan’s developing this medical condition.”

Zach was not sure what he believed anymore. He harbored doubts about Carl, Becky, even himself, but no way would he admit that to this group.

“The mother believes Meghan has this disease,” Capshaw said. “And that’s what matters.”

“How so?” Zach asked.

“Our goal is to get Meghan safely back to the hospital, where she belongs,” Spence said.

“Again, what can I do to help, Detectives?”

Spence and Capshaw glanced at each other. Nash eyed Zach with trepidation. Carl looked away. Knox Singer wore a steely expression. Zach’s mouth went dry. Something told him he was not going to like what he was about to hear. And when they described exactly how he could help, Zach did not like it, not one bit.

“I can’t do that,” Zach said after giving the matter careful consideration. “I’m a doctor, not the police. What you’re asking of me is way out of my comfort zone.”

“We need your help because she trusts you,” Spence said matter-of-factly.

Zach eyed Singer with some contempt. “Yeah, well, we’ve given her plenty of good reasons not to trust anybody here.”

“Are you saying you agree with what she did?” Capshaw asked his question with arching eyebrows. “Breaking Meghan out of White and all?”

“I’m saying that she thinks her daughter needs treatment for a disease, and I don’t disagree.”

“She’s not innocent, Zach, don’t fool yourself,” Spence said.

“Innocent until proven guilty, isn’t that the American way?” said Zach.

The detectives exchanged knowing glances before Spence said, “We recovered a diamond earring in Dr. Levine’s apartment that had Becky Gerard’s DNA on it.”

Zach took a moment to let the news sink in.

“Oh,” he said, feeling a little light-headed. “Well, then, I guess that changes everything.”





CHAPTER 44





MEGHAN


I chickened out. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I think I knew that once I did, it would be over. My little fantasy of us becoming a family again would be done with for good. I may have been angry and disgusted with my dad, but he was still my father. In my heart of hearts, I didn’t want him gone from my life forever. I wanted to believe things could be different. But if I opened my mouth, they couldn’t be. So I told her only part of the story.

Dad hit me. Hard.

It was an open-handed smack on my right cheek, forceful enough that it left a mark on my face. Mom was horrified, of course, when I told her. “Why would he do that?” she shouted. “Why would he hit you?” I gave some bullshit answer about calling him an asshole for not believing me.

“You called your father an asshole?” Mom said, almost smiling, sounding proud of me.

I nodded.

“I know your father. He wouldn’t hit you, no matter how angry you made him.”

That’s when I got nervous. She was right, of course. Dad wouldn’t hit me for calling him that name. I needed to up the ante, and I needed to think of something fast.

“I said he wanted me dead. That’s why he wasn’t supporting you or believing me. He wanted me to die from mito or whatever it is I have. I said that he never wanted kids and that he was probably glad when Sammy died.”

That lie came out faster than I was thinking. I made it sound like I was irrational at the time, and that I’d given him good reason to hit me, which Mom seemed to think I did.

“I’m sorry,” I said, tears blurring my vision, because I couldn’t face the truth. It wasn’t a total lie. My father had hit me, and it was a hard smack on my face with his open palm. But it wasn’t because I said anything about Sammy.