Page 26 of Mirror Image

My body language training kicks in, and my eyes are drawn to his tie, which he’s rubbing with his thumb absently.

“Physically, she was a mess when they found her,” he continues. “Severely dehydrated, borderline hypothermic, and half out of her head. She was scratched to hell, eaten alive by bugs, and covered in superficial infections. We’ve started IV fluids, broad-spectrum antibiotics, and wound care. She’s stabilizing well and should make a full recovery.”

I let out a long, slow exhalation as my gaze makes the rounds until I’ve had eye contact with all three of them.

“Okay,” I begin slowly. “So let me make certain I understand the arrangement here. Assuming I agree, then I’d be working for the Langston family, not the hospital. And not the court.”

“That’s correct,” Joyce agrees.

“And . . . if they don’t like what I have to say? Then what?”

Joyce shrugs and spreads her hands out in front of her. “Then nothing. You’ll be paid no matter what your opinion is. But, just so you know, you might be called upon to testify on Mary’s behalf if it comes to that. And, on the flip side of that, you’ll be bound by doctor-patient confidentiality should the police or a prosecutor or anyone else question you. That is, unless you have the family’s express permission,” Joyce explains.

“You mean Mary’s,” I correct her.

She looks confused. “Mary’s what?”

“Mary’s express permission. The family may pay my fees, but she calls the shots as far as what’s disclosed and to whom—including the parents.”

Joyce glances at Julian, who smiles broadly.

“Well, of course, of course. That goes without saying,” he declares with the trademark warmth that used to soothe me. Now it just seems condescending. “This is all aboveboard. You’re just an independent contractor we’ve brought in to avoid any conflict of interest should this become a criminal investigation at some point.”

“Look, Dr. Flores,” Joyce says, “Mary’s name will be released in a couple of hours, and then it’s only a matter of time before the press is camped out in the parking lot. We really need your answer here—one way or the other. Are you willing to treat her and sign a contract to that effect, or do I need to find someone else? Because we’re up against the clock right now, and the Langstons are waiting for an update.”

I take a deep breath as I consider everything I’ve heard in the last half hour. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this. It makes perfect sense, in fact.

“Yes,” I agree at last. “I’ll take the contract—so long as it’s understood that I’m going to conduct my own evaluation, in the manner I choose. I don’t want anyone second-guessing my methods or my progress. And I won’t lie—not in her chart, not in a courtroom. If you really want to know what I think, I’m going to tell you.”

She nods once firmly, as if I’ve just confirmed what she already knows.

“Excellent. Her parents will be very pleased to hear it. They were hoping you’d accept the job.”

Hopefully that means they’re more likely to be forthcoming with information.

“Do you think they’d be willing to talk with me about Mary?” I ask.

“Oh, yes. They’re quite eager to speak with you. They were hoping you’d see them this morning in fact.”

“This morning?”

I know I want to speak to the Langstons about their daughter; I just hadn’t planned to do it before I’d actually met her.

Julian nods. “Yes, as Joyce just said, they’re quite eager. I thought perhaps you and I could go over a few things in my office and then meet with them downstairs in the coffee shop.”

My sigh comes out as a little puff of air. “Right. Okay, well, they can give me some insight into Mary’s state of mind.”

“Yes, well, that’s rather the other way around.”

I don’t understand.

“Excuse me?”

“They’re hoping you’ll give them some insight,” Kellogg explains a little too slowly.

I ignore the implication that I’m too dim to get it and focus on Joyce.

“Meaning what, exactly?”