Read Online A Question of Ghosts by Cate Culpepper - Free Book Online Page B

Becca saw no need to cushion these words. Not only was her head too dim to host much feeling right now, she remembered her mother’s emotional cataclysms as the natural order of things. As far as her small self had known, everyone’s mother stayed in bed for days at a time. Everyone’s father came racing home in the middle of the day to feed their kid.
    “Becca, she fought so hard to get well.” Patricia seemed to think Becca needed comfort, too. “Maddie really tried, dear. I can’t say I knew her terribly well. I wanted to be closer to her, but I felt she and Scottie resisted spending time with Mitch and me. But those depressions scared her enough to agree to see Rachel privately. And I know Maddie did everything she could to help herself. She made all her appointments, she stayed on her meds. I wish half the homeless women I work with had her courage.”
    A small, hard kernel in Becca wondered at Patricia’s unusual wordiness on this topic. She had probably just said more about her mother than Becca had heard throughout puberty. And there was a note of professional detachment in her aunt’s tone, some nuance that made her sympathy sound rehearsed. Lord, Becca thought, I’m getting as scratchy as Jo.
    Rachel rubbed her eyes. “In Maddie’s case, Becca, more than any I’ve ever seen, it came down to chemistry. The chemical imbalance in your mother’s brain was just too complex to be helped by medication for long, at least the ones we had back then, in the mid-seventies. It’s a lifetime curse for many of my patients, even today—to be born with minds that are simply too inscrutable for modern psychiatry to offer any real, lasting healing.”
    Becca started to speak, but closed her mouth, confused. Jo was staring at Rachel with an odd mixture of foreboding and distaste. Her hands were folded neatly on the table, but Becca could see her fingers were so tightly clenched that her knuckles were white.
    “Help me understand this, people.” Jo loosened her hands and traced a pattern on the tablecloth with one finger. “We’re talking about a young mother, by all accounts a loving one, highly motivated to control her behavior. A troubled marriage, but a husband supportive enough to send his wife to a competent psychiatrist. Madelyn Healy was fully compliant with her treatment. How long was she in therapy with you, Dr. Perry? Before the shootings?”
    “Eight months,” Rachel said quietly.
    “Eight months of private sessions. And she had a husband, concerned in-laws, and a good therapist as her support system. I’m trying to understand why none of you saw the crisis coming. If things happened that night the way all of you say they did, if Becca’s mother suddenly flew into a psychotic rage and took two lives. How is it that none of you were alerted to—”
    “I believe Rachel has explained all that, Joanne.” Mitchell was every inch the prosecutor again. “Tragedies happen in families afflicted with mental illness. It’s a fact of life. Pat and I see it every day in our work, and we both deal with the carnage that kind of sickness leaves in its wake. The best treatment in the world can’t save some people.”
    “And on that happy note, I’m afraid I must take my leave.” Rachel smiled at them and pushed back carefully from the table. “Patricia, dinner was wonderful, but I have early sessions in the morning.”
    “Rachel, please. No need to rush off.” Mitchell got to his feet. “Sit for a while longer. You don’t look well tonight. I’m sure Joanne didn’t intend to imply any criticism.”
    “I’m not offended, Mitch, honestly.” Rachel laid her hand on Becca’s shoulder before she could rise, and spoke to her alone. “I promise to help you in this investigation in any way I can, Becca. I’ve just had enough for tonight, and I need to take care of myself.”
    “Of course, honey,” Becca whispered.
    Jo looked uneasy for the first time. “Dr. Perry, I’m not necessarily talking about