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“My colleague from the US Marshals office will speak to you about WITSEC when she arrives at headquarters,” he says.
“WITSEC?” I repeat.
“Witness protection,” he clarifies.
“You mean where I abandon my life and start over in a dirt-filled town in the middle of nowhere with a new identity?”
“I know it’s not what anyone wants to do, but it’s how you can best protect yourself and the people you care about, at least for now,” he says.
If Mom is still alive, she didn’t choose that option when she left Dad and me, or Jason would know about her and the real reason the Cadells are coming for me now. And after the last few days, I understand why she wouldn’t have. The Cadells have penetrated the highest levels of government, which means she wouldn’t have been safe entering a government program like WITSEC.
And Jason telling me I’m still in danger is nothing I don’t already know. But he doesn’t know the real reason why or that the people I love, Eddie and Sarah, will be too, as long as the Cadells think I’m a loose end that knows too much—a loose end without anyleverage.
But I’m about to try to change that. Because I know the one thing that might give me leverage over them, the one thing they’re worried about me uncovering—whatever happened in Mom’s interview with Dr. Siegel.
Everything hinges on this now. As soon as we get back to the city, I’m going back to Bell Hospital to track it down.
CHAPTER48
October 2012
THEOB/GYNAPPOINTMENTScame fast and furiously, and I was always weighed. Given that weight gain and pregnancy go hand-in-hand, and that it’s not only unavoidable but also necessary, I thought I’d be okay with it.
At first, I was, but when I began struggling to eat due to my pregnancy-related nausea and experienced an energy deficit, ED resurfaced. And I found I was no longer comfortable with my changing body.
As my thighs swelled and my stomach grew larger, I scoured the internet for pregnancy charts, wanting confirmation that I was at the lowest point of the acceptable weight gain guidelines. I also began seeking out other pregnant women to compare my weight gain to theirs to make sure mine was less. I’d stare at their stomachs, needing that reassurance.
“You’ve lost weight since our last appointment two weeks ago,” Dr. Dina, my OB/GYN at the time, told Jay and me during a pregnancy well-visit appointment. “I want to run some tests to ensure there’s nothing wrong, no fetal abnormalities or genetic defects.”
Jay was sitting next to me silently, but I knew what was on his mind.
He finally came out with it. “I don’t think Beatrice is eating enough. She’s also exercising more than before she was pregnant.”
“Oh?” Dr. Dina said, looking up at me from her chart.
“I think she might be relapsing.”
I sat there in disbelief as the words came out of his mouth, remembering how happy he’d been when I first told him I was pregnant. Now there wasn’t any joy on his face, only worry.
“I had anorexia in high school, but I’ve been in recovery for over a decade,” I told Dr. Dina.
It had been fourteen years since I had left Better Horizons, and I had successfully maintained my recovery until this point, even after losing Dad, so I thought I had ED licked.
But the truth was over the last year, I had stopped going to individual therapy and had been going to my eating disorder support group less and less, showing up monthly instead of weekly.
I was slipping in my recovery without realizing it, and ED was there the whole time, patiently waiting for a chance to creep back into my life.
“I’d still like to run the tests,” Dr. Dina said. “I’m also recommending that you speak to a psychiatrist.”
“That’s completely unnecessary,” I said defensively. “I’m a psychologist. I’d know if I had a problem.” The thought that I might be putting my pregnancy at risk was too much to bear.
“It isn’t a choice. Otherwise, I’ll have to call social services,” she warned.
I was stunned. After a career where I had made occasional calls to social services to report parents who had endangered their children, it felt inconceivable that someone could potentially report me for doing the same.
I looked over at Jay, who seemed relieved by what Dr. Dina had said, and I was angry at him for disclosing what he had. But really, it was ED who was mad because he was being boxed in.
A couple of days after the visit to the doctor, I woke up with intense cramps. When I went to the bathroom, the toilet bowl was filled with blood.
