“I’m sorry. Really. But thank you.” She moved away, ignoring the magazines and exiting the office.
“Don’t even go there,” he said to Lucy on his way to the Jenkinses. “You don’t know what she’s been through.”
“Maybe not, but she strikes me as someone who knows how to get what she wants. You should’ve seen her little-girl-lost routine with your buddy Dr. Haig.”
“He’s hardly my buddy.”
“And she was hardly lost. I mean, she’s been here before.”
“And sustained a pretty good concussion since that time. How come you’re so tough all of a sudden?”
Lucy ignored the question. “Meeting in the café,” she said. “Is that like a freebie, then?”
“Believe me,” Chance told her. “It’s the least I can do.”
His meeting with the Jenkinses lasted for more than an hour but Jaclyn was waiting in the café, nearly empty at this time of day. To enter was to descend a short flight of tiled steps by which the café’s windows were brought nearly even with the sidewalk, the wheels of passing cars. Jaclyn had chosen a table well back in the room and away from the windows. Chance ordered coffee on his way in and joined her in the shadows.
“How was your patient?” she asked.
He told her about Ralf.
“He’s dying then?”
“He has six months, maybe.”
“Jesus. What do you tell them?”
“The truth. I suggest counseling, support groups, hospice care.” A cable car rattled past in the street. “It’s not always as grim as you might think,” he said. “What you see . . . sometimes, with some people . . . is the bullshit falling away. They see what’s important, and what isn’t. Youget the feeling . . . with some, that they actually begin to live for the first time.” It pleased him to believe this was so.
Jaclyn nodded but didn’t say anything.
“A blast occurs outside that window, the white light of some nuclear holocaust. You’ve got five seconds. Now what do you do?”
Jaclyn looked to the street. There was only the muted light of a foggy afternoon. “I don’t know,” she said. She looked to Chance. “Do you?”
He reached across the table and took her hand. “This. Maybe this is all there is. They find people like that, you know, everywhere from Pompeii to the World Trade Center.” He let go her hand. “We all die,” he told her. “It’s what we do with the time we have that matters.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “You’re a good doctor,” she said.
“People want miracles. Sometimes the only miracle is, I take your hand. That’s the miracle.”
A moment elapsed. She regained her composure.
“What do I do?” she asked him.
“I’d think you have to start with the truth.”
“He’d kill me. He’s said he would and I believe him.”
“We’re talking about your husband now, not some intruder. Just to be clear.”
She nodded that this was so.
“It was your husband who beat you.”
She smiled in a way that seemed to suggest the naiveté of his question. “He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t be the one to get his hands dirty.”
“He had it done? Is that what you’re telling me? It’s important for us to be clear about this.”
She shrugged and looked away.
“Have you ever talked to an attorney? Another cop? There are attorneys who specialize in cases where people are threatened . . .”
“I’m talking to you.”
“But now, that you’ve actually been hurt . . .”
“You think this is the first time? Look, I know the drill. . . . What you don’t know, what nobody knows . . . is how smart he is. He knows the law. He’s also crazy. He would get me in the end. It’s what he’s like.He knows people. He could be in jail and still have it done.” Her voice broke for the first time. “He knows how to do things,” she whispered. “He would know how to make Jaclyn disappear.”
“You just referred to yourself in the third person,” Chance said. “Is this Jackie I’m speaking to now?”
“No.
“Don’t even go there,” he said to Lucy on his way to the Jenkinses. “You don’t know what she’s been through.”
“Maybe not, but she strikes me as someone who knows how to get what she wants. You should’ve seen her little-girl-lost routine with your buddy Dr. Haig.”
“He’s hardly my buddy.”
“And she was hardly lost. I mean, she’s been here before.”
“And sustained a pretty good concussion since that time. How come you’re so tough all of a sudden?”
Lucy ignored the question. “Meeting in the café,” she said. “Is that like a freebie, then?”
“Believe me,” Chance told her. “It’s the least I can do.”
His meeting with the Jenkinses lasted for more than an hour but Jaclyn was waiting in the café, nearly empty at this time of day. To enter was to descend a short flight of tiled steps by which the café’s windows were brought nearly even with the sidewalk, the wheels of passing cars. Jaclyn had chosen a table well back in the room and away from the windows. Chance ordered coffee on his way in and joined her in the shadows.
“How was your patient?” she asked.
He told her about Ralf.
“He’s dying then?”
“He has six months, maybe.”
“Jesus. What do you tell them?”
“The truth. I suggest counseling, support groups, hospice care.” A cable car rattled past in the street. “It’s not always as grim as you might think,” he said. “What you see . . . sometimes, with some people . . . is the bullshit falling away. They see what’s important, and what isn’t. Youget the feeling . . . with some, that they actually begin to live for the first time.” It pleased him to believe this was so.
Jaclyn nodded but didn’t say anything.
“A blast occurs outside that window, the white light of some nuclear holocaust. You’ve got five seconds. Now what do you do?”
Jaclyn looked to the street. There was only the muted light of a foggy afternoon. “I don’t know,” she said. She looked to Chance. “Do you?”
He reached across the table and took her hand. “This. Maybe this is all there is. They find people like that, you know, everywhere from Pompeii to the World Trade Center.” He let go her hand. “We all die,” he told her. “It’s what we do with the time we have that matters.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “You’re a good doctor,” she said.
“People want miracles. Sometimes the only miracle is, I take your hand. That’s the miracle.”
A moment elapsed. She regained her composure.
“What do I do?” she asked him.
“I’d think you have to start with the truth.”
“He’d kill me. He’s said he would and I believe him.”
“We’re talking about your husband now, not some intruder. Just to be clear.”
She nodded that this was so.
“It was your husband who beat you.”
She smiled in a way that seemed to suggest the naiveté of his question. “He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t be the one to get his hands dirty.”
“He had it done? Is that what you’re telling me? It’s important for us to be clear about this.”
She shrugged and looked away.
“Have you ever talked to an attorney? Another cop? There are attorneys who specialize in cases where people are threatened . . .”
“I’m talking to you.”
“But now, that you’ve actually been hurt . . .”
“You think this is the first time? Look, I know the drill. . . . What you don’t know, what nobody knows . . . is how smart he is. He knows the law. He’s also crazy. He would get me in the end. It’s what he’s like.He knows people. He could be in jail and still have it done.” Her voice broke for the first time. “He knows how to do things,” she whispered. “He would know how to make Jaclyn disappear.”
“You just referred to yourself in the third person,” Chance said. “Is this Jackie I’m speaking to now?”
“No.
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