said nothing, but a feeling of deep unease settled over her, as it did so often with Nikki nowadays. Ever since the awful night of Doug’s car crash, Gretchen had watched Nikki being whipsawed between grief and anger. The circumstances of Doug’s death had changed her. Made her harder. Colder. Less forgiving. Gretchen hoped the change was temporary.
‘Well, if it’s any consolation, I think Valentina Baden’s a tougher cookie than you give her credit for,’ she said, trying to lighten the mood a little. ‘Before she married Willie she was with some hotshot financier who she completely took to the cleaners in their divorce.’
‘Really?’ Nikki was intrigued, her anger apparently exhausted for the moment. Not for the first time, she marveled at Gretchen’s vast knowledge of celebrity gossip. ‘How do you know this stuff?’
‘I read,’ said Gretchen. ‘Valentina’s actually had an amazing life. She grew up in Mexico City and when she was a teenager her younger sister went missing and they never saw her again. Can you imagine? She’s given interviews about it, how the family assumed the sister was dead but they never knew for sure. Or whether she’d been raped or kidnapped or what had happened to her.’
‘How awful,’ said Nikki, feelingly. ‘That must have been torture.’
‘Valentina never had children of her own,’ Gretchen went on, ‘but she used her husband’s money to set up a charity to help families of missing kids. Do you remember the Clancy case?’
Nikki thought about it. Clancy. The name rang a vague bell.
‘A young American au pair went missing while working in Mexico City,’ said Gretchen. ‘It was probably about ten years ago now.’
Nikki cast her mind back. ‘I do remember! I think I saw the dad on TV. Wasn’t he a firefighter or something?’
‘Right,’ said Gretchen. ‘Well, it was Valentina Baden’s money that put him on TV and brought public attention to the search for his daughter. I think Valentina felt a personal connection to the case, because of the Mexico City thing and her sister. Charlotte, the girl’s name was. Charlotte Clancy.’
‘Did they ever find her?’
Gretchen shook her head. ‘Never. It was like Valentina’s sister all over again. The endless not knowing. All I’m saying is, Willie Baden’s wife has been through a hell of a lot worse in her life than this. It’s your murdered patient I feel sorry for. So young!’
‘She was young,’ Nikki agreed, softening. ‘And, you know, she was trying to improve her life. It’s not that I don’t feel terrible about Lisa—’
‘Do you think Willie had her bumped off?’ Gretchen interrupted breathlessly. ‘You know, took out a hit on her?’
Closing the magazine, Nikki laughed. ‘You’ve been overdosing on The Sopranos again, Gretch. A “hit”?’
‘I’m serious!’ protested Gretchen. ‘I mean, he’s rich enough, right? I’ll bet he knows people who know people.’
Nikki shook her head. ‘Willie didn’t do it. It was already over between them. Although, he was angry about her leaving,’ she mused, thinking back to her final session with Lisa, and Lisa’s almost throwaway remarks about Baden smashing china and making threats when she called it quits.
‘You see?’ Gretchen warmed to her theme. ‘He had motive.’
Nikki shook her head. ‘I don’t think it was Willie Baden. His pride was hurt in the moment. No one likes being dumped. But I never got the sense Lisa was afraid of him.’
‘Maybe she should have been?’ said Gretchen. ‘Well, if it wasn’t Willie, who do you think did it?’
Nikki looked at her old friend for a moment with a strangely intent expression. ‘I have no idea,’ she said eventually. ‘Why does everyone seem to think I would know who killed Lisa Flannagan?’
Gretchen shrugged. ‘You were her therapist.’
‘Patients don’t tell us everything, you know. I’m sure one of the detectives investigating the case thinks I’m hiding something from him.’
Gretchen frowned. ‘Why would he think that?’
‘Who knows?’ said Nikki, thanking the waiter as he placed her poached eggs in front of her. ‘He’s an odd little man, full of testosterone and rage. He obviously hates me. He hasn’t said it in so many words, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he had me down as a suspect.’
‘Don’t be so ridiculous!’ said Gretchen.
‘Is it ridiculous, though?’ asked Nikki absently. ‘I was the last person to have seen her alive.’
‘Well, yes, but—’
‘And we all have our dark sides. Don’t forget I spent last night pushing my beloved husband off a cliff to his death. And I liked it.’ Nikki paused, then broke into a broad grin.
Gretchen exhaled.
OK. That was a joke. She’s joking.
Black humor was a well-known coping mechanism for grief. Gretchen might not be a therapist, but even she knew that. Still, she found Nikki worryingly difficult to read these days. Joke or no joke, something was off about her, and that something seemed to be getting worse, not better.
This murder, coming on top of everything else, had clearly added to the stress she was under. One more blow and Gretchen worried Nikki might unravel completely.
The sooner they caught the maniac that did it, the better.
It was five o’clock by the time Haddon Defoe arrived at the hospital. Taking the elevator to the fifth floor, past the Addiction Recovery Clinic where he worked a couple of days a week, he hurried down the corridor, praying he wasn’t too late. But when the nurses directed him to the Family Counseling Suite his heart sank. That could only mean one thing.
Marsha Raymond’s tear-stained face instantly confirmed Haddon’s worst suspicions.
‘He’s gone, Dr Defoe.’ Trey’s mother shook her head, her lower lip trembling. ‘’Bout fifteen minutes ago. I was sitting in there with him, holding his hand, and all of a sudden his heart jus’ stops beating. He never said one mo’ word after those police left this morning. They should never’ve been here, that’s what the doctor said.’
Instinctively, Haddon pulled the grieving woman into his arms and held her. His own mind was racing wildly. It was all too much to take in. Only an hour and a half had gone by since Marsha had called him, giving him a garbled story about Trey being kidnapped and knifed and in the hospital, and begging him to come. He’d driven to Cedars as fast as he could, his mind jumping between thoughts of Trey and what the hell could have happened, and his old friend Doug Roberts, who had loved the boy like a son. What would Doug have made of all of this? And now Haddon was here but he was too late. Trey Raymond was dead. But not before the police had been here, quizzing him, defying
