Somehow I doubt this. My instincts are humming with anticipation.
“I called Cagle to demand to know why Newhouse wasn’t listed as a therapist Fanning was consulting with. I don’t like being caught with my pants down as I was when you visited.”
“Which put you in a position to have to tell the man about our visit.” It’s not a question. Bastard.
“What choice did I have? I need answers the same as you do.”
Not the same at all. “We’ll see what the chief has to say about that. You know he plays golf with Commissioner Straton.” Straton is the top dog in the Tennessee Department of Corrections. In other words, Tennison’s boss.
I end the call before the asshole can respond. There is nothing I despise more than self-serving public servants.
At the bank of elevators, I select the proper floor and wait. I had to put off my cold visit to Melanie Hardeman. The husband of Patricia Shelby called with a rather odd story about his wife. His repeated mention of Fanning in the account pushed a visit to him above all else. The whole story sounded strange, but the fact is that everything about this case is strange.
I didn’t call Liv. She’s doing what she has to do at the farm. I’ll talk to her tomorrow. Let her work through this business with her father without interference.
Liam Shelby waits for me in the small lobby of the Maternal Special Care Unit. Since his wife has so recently given birth, any illness potentially connected to that event assures she is admitted to this unit for care. I have no idea what her rehospitalization has to do with Fanning or the case, but the whole situation sounded far too bizarre to ignore.
“Detective Walt Duncan,” I say as I extend my hand toward the man, who looks harried and exhausted.
He barely brushes my palm with his. “I wasn’t sure if I needed to call you but, to tell you the truth, I didn’t know what else to do.”
Since we have the lobby to ourselves, I gesture to the row of chairs. “Why don’t we sit and you can tell me what’s going on.”
We settle and he scrubs his hands over his face before he begins. “Patricia had just put the baby down yesterday afternoon. This was after you and your partner interviewed her. I had noticed she, Patricia,” he notes, “hasn’t been sleeping. Like at all. For days. So I urge her to take a nap while the baby is sleeping.” He shakes his head. “I mean, the whole point in my taking this time off is so I can help her. But she acts like no one can touch the baby or watch the baby but her.”
Though I have no experience on the matter if new human mothers are anything like the mothers of any other living creature, I can see how they would feel extra protective of a newborn.
I say nothing, just listen.
“For the next hour,” he goes on, “she just walked the floor. Like she was trying to prevent herself from falling asleep. She kept going over to the bassinet and checking on Lily.” He flashes a pitiful attempt at a smile. “That’s our baby. Lily.”
“Pretty name,” I offer even though his wife told us this yesterday. The poor guy is way out of sorts.
“When Lily started to rouse, I went over to pick her up. Patricia had stalled at the front window and was just staring out like she’d fallen asleep with her eyes open.”
Not impossible. I’ve seen people do it.
“Suddenly, she whirled around.” Horror creeps over his face. “She started screaming and ran at me. She snatched the baby from me and just kept screaming. Stuff like, ‘You cannot have her!’ And ‘Stay away from my baby!’ I was stunned. I tried to make her see that it was me. But it took like ten minutes for her to calm down enough to stop screaming at me.”
Again, I don’t really have any experience in the area, but in the early days of my career, I did respond to a domestic disturbance or two involving postpartum depression, where the new mother had a bit of a psychotic episode.
“Postpartum psychosis, they called it,” Shelby says as if he’d read my mind.
“How is she now?” I hope like hell our interview didn’t have any part in this.
“She’s getting back to normal. She’s still agitated. Nervous. Afraid like. But she recognizes that she flipped out and has apologized over and over. She wants to go home to Lily. Her mother is taking care of the baby while we’re here.”
“Would it be all right if I spoke to her?” I have a feeling about this. Might be nothing, but I need to see it through.
“Please do,” the husband urges. “It was after those questions about what she did over the weekend that this situation escalated. I mean, I’m not suggesting it’s your fault. I just think it’s about the bastard who hurt her. Maybe she needs some extra reassurance from you—the police. This Fanning thing has pushed her over an edge. Really, I think she started going downhill the minute he was released.”
Shelby gets up and I follow. At the door to the room, he hesitates. “I hope this is the right thing to do.”
I nod. “I’ll make sure she understands we’ve got this.”
He opens the door and we step inside. Patricia Shelby’s attention shoots our way. She looks from me to her husband but says nothing.
I approach the foot of her bed, keeping a bit of distance. Her husband moves to stand at her side. She takes his hand, hers shaking as she does so. Damn, I hate she’s feeling this kind of vulnerability.
