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“A little of both.”
“You don’t want them to be found, Grace?”
She stared at me blankly.“Of course I do.”
“Then why won’t you let me help?”
“I told you what I could.”
“Ah, yes.About that…”
“I take it you checked then?You looked at the maps?”
“Listen, Grace—Mrs.Solomon.It is possible there is to be a conflict with the Soviets.But that tells me nothing about the whereabouts of your husband.Or your children.Besides, there’s usually a shred of truth to most things.”
“Is this doctor speak?I don’t understand.”
“Your husband was not a spy.”
“I never suggested he was.”
“Then what are you suggesting?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you kill Charles?”
“How can you ask me that?”
“Please, Grace, just answer the question.”
She crossed the room, leaned down, and perched herself on my desk, resting on the weight of her knuckles.“You’re acting more like a detective than a doctor.”
“I am trying to help you.”
She smiled.“In that case, I think you ought to do a little more digging.”
“Where do you suggest I start?”
“With the assumption that I am innocent—that I am not crazy.That I did not harm my family.”
I sighed and called the session.I have to admit to being very flustered for the rest of the day.I considered calling in a colleague for a second opinion, or perhaps to take over the case.I know better than to get too involved with a patient.Especially after what happened last time.But I also know that if Grace Solomon is lying, she’s very, very good.
