Angel of Darkness Read Free Page A

might have kept it from coming to this?
    â€˜He’s not coming back,’ Connie told him gently. ‘He’s dead, Michael. I can’t bring him back. He’s never coming back to us and you have to accept it. Your life is just beginning. Don’t sacrifice it to this.’
    â€˜You don’t understand,’ Michael insisted. He fled to his room, leaving Connie standing in the hall. I wanted to follow him, but Connie’s boyfriend, the man who had taken my place in my family, entered the ward, bringing an air of efficiency with him. He was tall and graying, dressed in a nice suit, full of confidence and comfortable in this setting. The staff knew him, I saw, and they liked him, judging by their smiles.
    Did he work here at Holloway? Had he been the one to convince Connie to send Michael here? Why had I not seen him here at Holloway before?
    Cal. That was his name. I remembered it now. Cal: sturdy and competent and kind. He was everything I had never been.
    Connie buried her head in his comforting arms. ‘I can’t do anything right.’
    â€˜You don’t have to do anything at all,’ he told her quietly. ‘You’ve done everything that you can do. Let the people here do their jobs. They’ll give you Michael back.’
    â€˜He hates me,’ Connie whispered.
    â€˜He hates himself,’ the man explained and I had to admit it – his voice was thick with genuine concern. He cared for them both. Who was I to begrudge him his ability to be the man I had never been?
    â€˜Where’s Sean?’ Connie asked him. Sean was my youngest. He was sunny and full of himself, as different from his brother as, well, as life from death.
    â€˜I dropped him off at Matt’s house. His mother said he could stay as long as he needs to.’
    This small kindness seemed to break her. Connie began to cry. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you,’ she said. ‘Without you and everyone else who wants to help. I don’t know what to do. I can’t do this alone.’
    â€˜Just take a deep breath. You don’t have to do this alone. It’s going to be OK.’
    â€˜Cal?’ A small woman emerged from a room near the nurse’s station. She was in her mid-forties, with light-brown hair and a straightforward manner. I knew her. She was a therapist who sometimes advised the department on the psychological make-up of suspects.
    â€˜Miranda.’ Cal shook her hand and then gestured toward my wife. ‘This is my fiancée, Connie Fahey.’
    I heard the words like a kick in the gut. Game, set, match. Replaced.
    â€˜How do you do?’ Miranda asked. ‘Wait, don’t answer that. We’ll get into that later.’
    Connie tried to smile at the joke, but her mouth trembled with the effort.
    â€˜I know you’re anxious to hear an opinion soon,’ Miranda said. ‘I’d like to talk to Michael alone first and then we can chat. Would that be OK?’
    â€˜Sure,’ Connie agreed. ‘How long will it take?’
    â€˜An hour should do it. Then I can give you my recommendation on how long I think Michael needs to stay with us and what it is we’re looking at.’
    â€˜Do you think it’s drugs?’ Connie asked. Fear radiated from her. Addiction. Obliteration. Promises. More addiction. She’d been there before.
    Miranda shook her head. ‘There was nothing in his system. This is emotional in nature.’
    â€˜His father—’ Connie began.
    â€˜I know,’ Miranda interrupted. ‘I have the family history. But let’s take it one hour at a time. Michael is his own person and we’ve come a long way in the treatment of adolescents. Let’s see what we’re up against first.’
    Connie nodded, glad to stave off her worst fears for the next hour, at least. She followed Cal out of the ward while I tagged along behind Miranda, desperate to know if my death was the