He was in a coma for six days, and when he awakened, he learned that, among his other injuries, the bones of his right hand had been crushed. They had been set and looked normal, but he would never operate again.
It took him almost a year to get over the trauma of having his future destroyed. He was under the care of a psychiatrist, a no-nonsense doctor who said, “It’s about time you stopped feeling sorry for yourself and got on with your life.”
“Doing what?” Alan had asked bitterly.
“What you’ve been doing—only in a different way.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re a healer, Alan. You heal people’s bodies. Well, you can’t do that anymore. But it’s just as important to heal people’s minds. You’d make a good psychiatrist. You’re intelligent and you have compassion. Think about it.”
It had turned out to be one of the most rewarding decisions he had ever made. He enjoyed what he was doing tremendously. In a sense, he found it even more satisfying to bring patients who were living in despair back to normal than to minister to their physical welfare. His reputation had grown quickly, and for the past three years he had been forced to turn new patients away. He had agreed to see Catherine only so that he could recommend another doctor to her. But something about her had touched him. I must help her.
When Catherine returned to her office after her session with Alan Hamilton, she went in to see Wim.
“I saw Dr. Hamilton today,” Catherine said.
“Yeah? In psychiatric social readjustment, the rating scale for death of a spouse is one hundred, divorce seventy-three, marital separation from mate sixty-five, detention in jail sixty-three, death of a close family member sixty-three, personal injury or illness fifty-three, marriage fifty, being fired at work forty-seven…”
Catherine stood there listening. What must it be like, she wondered, to think of things only in mathematical terms? Never to know another person as a human being, never to have a real friend. I feel as though I’ve found a new friend, Catherine thought.
I wonder how long he’s been married.
Chapter Twenty
Athens
You tried to destroy me. You failed. I promise you, it would have been better for you if you had succeeded. But first, I’m going to destroy your sister.
Constantin Demiris’s words were still ringing in Lambrou’s ears. He had no doubt that Demiris would try to carry out his threat. What in God’s name could have gone wrong with Rizzoli? Everything had been so carefully planned. But there was no time to speculate on what had happened. The important thing now was to warn his sister.
Lambrou’s secretary walked into the office. “Your ten o’clock appointment is waiting. Shall I send…?”
“No. Cancel all my appointments. I won’t be back this morning.”
He picked up a telephone, and five minutes later he was on his way to see Melina.
She was waiting for him in the garden of the villa. “Spyros. You sounded so upset on the phone! What’s wrong?”
“We have to talk.” He led her to a bench in a vine-covered gazebo. He sat there looking at her and thought, What a lovely woman she is. She’s always brought happiness to everyone her life has touched. She’s done nothing to deserve this.
“Aren’t you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
Lambrou took a deep breath. “This is going to be very painful, darling.”
“You’re beginning to alarm me.”
“I mean to. Your life is in danger.”
“What? In danger from whom?”
He measured his words carefully. “I think Costa is going to try to kill you.”
Melina was staring at him, open-mouthed. “You’re joking.”
“No, I mean it, Melina.”
“Darling, Costa is a lot of things, but he’s not a murderer. He couldn’t…”
“You’re wrong. He’s killed before.”
Her face had gone pale. “What are you saying?”
“Oh, he doesn’t do it with his bare hands. He hires people to do it for him, but…”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Do you remember Catherine Douglas?”
“The woman who was murdered…”
“She wasn’t murdered. She’s alive.”
Melina shook her head. “She—she couldn’t be. I mean—they executed the people who killed her.”