As a pediatric psychiatrist, Laura was self-confident, never uncertain as to how she should proceed with a new patient. Of course she deliberated before choosing a course of therapy, but once she had decided on her approach, she implemented it without hesitation. She was a successful healer, a mender, a repairman of the psyche, and her success had given her the confidence and authority that generated more success. But now she was lost. She felt small, vulnerable, powerless. That was a feeling that she hadn’t known for a few years, not since she had learned to accept Melanie’s disappearance.
She said, ‘I … I don’t even know how you … how a person goes about finding bodyguards.’
Haldane pulled out his wallet, fished in it, withdrew a card. ‘Most of the private investigators you sent after Dylan, years ago, probably also offer bodyguard service. We’re not supposed to make recommendations. But I know these guys are good, and their rates are competitive.’
She took the card, looked at it:
CALIFORNIA PALADIN, INC.
PRIVATE INVESTIGATION
Personal Security
A phone number was provided at the bottom.
Laura tucked the card in her purse. ‘Thanks.’
‘Call them before you leave the hospital.’
‘I will.’
‘Have them send a man here. He can follow you home.’
She felt numb. ‘All right.’ She turned toward the hospital doors.
‘Wait.’ He handed her another card, his own. ‘The printed number on the front is my line at Central, but you won’t be able to get me there. I’m on assignment to the East Valley Division right now, so I’ve written that number on the back. I want you to call me if anything occurs to you, anything about Dylan’s past or old research that might have a bearing on this.’
She turned the card over. ‘There’s two numbers here.’
‘Bottom one’s my home number, in case I’m not in the office.’
‘Won’t your office forward messages?’
‘Yeah, but they might be slow about it. If you want to get me in a hurry, I want to be sure you can.’
‘You usually give out your home phone like this?’
‘No.’
‘Then, why?’
‘The thing I hate most of all…’
‘What’s that?’
‘A crime like this. Child abuse of any kind is so infuriating and frustrating. Makes me sick. Makes my blood boil.’
‘I know what you mean,’ she said.
‘Yeah, I guess you do.’
12
Dr. Rafael Ybarra, chief of pediatrics at Valley Medical, met with Laura in a small room near the nurses’ station, where the staff took their coffee breaks. Two vending machines stood against one wall. An icemaker chugged, clinked, and clattered. Behind Laura a refrigerator hummed softly. She sat across from Ybarra at a long table on which were dog-eared magazines and two ashtrays full of cold cigarette butts.
The pediatrician — dark, slim, with aquiline features — was prim, even prissy. His perfectly combed hair seemed like a laquered wig. His shirt collar was crisp and stiff, tie perfectly knotted, lab coat tailored. He walked as though afraid of getting his shoes dirty, and he sat with his shoulders back and his head up, stiff and formal. He surveyed the crumbs and the cigarette ashes on the table, wrinkled his nose, and kept his hands in his lap.
Laura decided she didn’t like the man.
Dr. Ybarra spoke with brisk authority, biting the words off: ‘Physically, your daughter’s in good condition, surprisingly good considering the circumstances. She is somewhat underweight, but not seriously so. Her right arm is bruised from repeated insertion of an IV needle by someone who wasn’t very skilled at it. Her urethra is mildly inflamed, perhaps from catheterization. I have prescribed medication for that condition. And that’s the extent of her physical problems.’
Laura nodded. ‘I know. I’ve come to take her home.’
‘No, no. I wouldn’t advise that,’ Ybarra said. ‘For one thing, she’ll be too difficult to care for at home.’
‘She’s not actually ill?’
‘No, but—’
‘She’s not incontinent?’
‘No. She uses the bathroom.’
‘She can feed herself?’
‘In a fashion. You have to start feeding her, then she’ll take over. And you’ve got to keep watching her as she eats because after a few bites she seems to forget what she’s doing, loses interest. You have to continue urging her to eat. She needs help to dress herself too.’