Cliff, strong and in uniform.
Keys jangled as two more people arrived, security officers who’d rushed to them and put Cliff in handcuffs. A small crowd gathered. Everything blurred. Her skin prickled with fear and shame. In the confusion that followed, someone—a police officer—took a brief statement from Claire, asked if she wanted to press charges.
No, she’d said then, she didn’t know, she needed time to think.
Waiting patiently nearby was the man who’d saved her: Captain Robert Bowen, the pilot of Claire’s plane from Los Angeles. He was concerned about her, so before leaving she’d agreed to have coffee with him in the airport once she’d finished with the police. After they’d found a booth, Claire regained her composure, thanked him, told him how embarrassed she was, explaining how she and Cliff were divorcing and it was a traumatic time.
“I understand,” he’d said. “I’m recently divorced myself.”
He’d seemed calm, confident and kind. As Claire had searched his dark brown eyes, she’d found a measure of pained sorrow, as if he perceived a great sadness no one else could see.
“If you ever want to talk about anything, Claire, let me know,” he said before they exchanged emails.
She’d kept in touch with Robert.
In moving from the wreckage of her marriage, Claire had devoted herself to her work, gaining more experience. All the while she’d email or phone Robert, who’d helped her through her worst days. Whenever he was in Minneapolis, they’d meet for dinner downtown or sometimes just coffee at the airport.
Robert was working on finding the ideal corporate piloting position in L.A. and leaving the demanding life of a commercial airline pilot that had played a large part in ending his marriage—“my wife couldn’t handle me being away so much.” It would give him the chance to spend more time at his cabin, fishing, he’d joked.
When Claire’s divorce was final, she’d found more reasons to fly to Los Angeles to be with Robert. She knew things between them were moving fast, but being with him was the best therapy, she smiled to herself.
About a year after her divorce from Cliff, Claire and Robert were walking on the beach near Malibu, when he’d stopped and looked long and hard into her eyes.
“I want to build a new life, but I can’t do it without you.” He’d dropped to one knee and took her hand. “Will you marry me, Claire?”
Her heart had soared and tears filled her eyes.
“Yes, but there’s something you should know. I may not be able to have children, but I don’t ever want to give up trying. I want you to know what life with me could entail.”
He’d taken a long time to respond, but when he had, her love for him deepened. He did not want to break it off or back out. And unlike Cliff, Robert never made her feel like she was less of a woman, or that her infertility was her fault.
“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Robert had said. “We’re in this together, Claire.”
They got married in Mexico in a small, sunset wedding on the beach. Then they flew to Europe for a honeymoon in Paris and London, ending with a week at Robert’s secluded cabin out at Big Bear.
Claire moved to Los Angeles to live with Robert.
She got her license with the State. Soon, with the advice and support of her friend Dr. Berman, who’d since joined the department of psychology at the University of Nevada in Las Vegas, Claire established her practice in San Marino, specializing in victims of abuse.
Now, as she stepped from the shower, Claire counted her blessings.
It had been a long road to the happiness she’d found. She was married to a good man and her dream to start a family was stronger than ever.
She put on her makeup and dressed, then went to her small home office down the hall to collect her files and her USB flash drive that contained encrypted copies of confidential electronic patient records. She always copied them to the small storage device.
Funny, it was not near her laptop where she’d left it. She looked around, opened a drawer—there it was.
I don’t remember putting it there.
She sighed, exasperated with herself. For the past couple of months she’d misplaced it a few times.
She found Robert in the kitchen reading one of the newspapers and eating cornflakes. She gave him a kiss and a hug.
“How’s my Freeway Hero doing today?”
“All good. I have to go in today.”
“Why? I thought you were off for the next few days.”
“Jenkins called from the company, he saw the news and reminded me that the company doc has to check me out, clear me for flying. Got to keep everything in line with the FAA.”
“You feel fine, right?”
“I’m good.”
“How about we go out for that dinner, tonight? Celebrate our family news, your heroics and whatever ensues?”
He hesitated for several moments as if his attention had taken him elsewhere before he returned.
“Yes, it’s a date.”
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
“Yes, just had a little trouble sleeping, a little revved up from everything.”
Claire looked at him, taking stock. She was certain he was grappling with something, but decided this was not the time to press him on what she’d overheard, or anything else.
“All right.” She smiled.
Before kissing him again she snatched her keys from the counter. She headed for her car knowing that Robert was keeping something from her.
13
San Marino, California
Claire’s office was in a one-story medical building at Garfield Avenue and Huntington Drive on San Marino’s west side, close to South Pasadena and Alhambra.
It was shaded by fragrant eucalyptus trees and tucked behind lush holly hedges and blazing violet azaleas. The awnings offered seclusion from the busy street.
Because of yesterday’s drama, Claire had canceled all of her appointments for that day. Today, she had to catch up. It was early and her first patient had not yet arrived.
Alice Pearson, her assistant, was making coffee. The big-hearted fifty-nine-year-old had come with the office when Claire took over the suite from Leo Schwartz, a psychologist who’d retired. Alice was a die-hard fan of the L.A. Lakers. A framed photo of her courtside and beaming beside Jack Nicholson, another die-hard fan, sat on her desk. She had a copy at her home and a smaller one in her wallet.
When Alice saw Claire, she gave her a hug.
“Oh,
