to be helped up. But she pulled it to her mouth and in the instant before she took a bite out of it, Rene snapped it away.
Mary hissed at her. “I don’t like you.” Then she pushed her chair back and stood up. She inspected her wrist again and started moving away.
“Mary, where you going?”
Then in that little-girl voice again, she said, “Jello needs to go out.” And she got up and shuffled out of the room.
32
“IT WAS CREEPY. SHE WAS IN a time zone of seventy years ago.”
“That’s not unusual with these patients,” Nick said.
“But this was different. She was coherent, not scattered or fragmented. Neither was her delusion. She was back in her childhood and apparently enjoying it, except when she tried to take a bite out of me.”
They were jogging along the river again. The day was cool and overcast, and because it was October only a few sailboats were on the water.
“Then that’s something we’ll be looking into,” Nick said. “Which brings me to why I called. Feel like moonlighting? I’m going to need help tabulating data for the trials. We’re getting lots of positive results, but I’m concerned over these flashback events.”
She was relieved to hear him say that. She was beginning to wonder if she was the only one who saw this as a potential problem.
“That’s something we have to deal with. And that’s going to mean cross-referencing these events with population demographics, genetic profiles, et cetera.”
“What exactly would my job be?”
“Your title would be behavioral data analyst.”
“Why do I have the feeling that you just made that up?”
“Because I did, but who’d be better than a consulting pharmacist?”
“I’m flattered, but won’t that be a conflict of interest?”
She thought that over for a moment, feeling a slight uneasiness.
“Unless, of course, you have problems with receiving compensation from me.”
“No, but my guess is that it will be coming from GEM Tech, right?”
“Yes, but you’re participating in clinical research for me, and God knows I can use the help. And you can use the money.”
Was this ever true. Nearly forty thousand dollars remained to be paid off in student loans. And on a salary of seventy thousand dollars, she’d be paying it back for years. Plus her car was beginning to break down, and her wardrobe was full of gaps, and her credit card debts were mounting up.
“Also, you’re the last person who’s going to look the other way if there’s a problem.”
“What exactly would I be doing?”
“Compiling data on meds and behavior from the clinical nurses, maybe even taking note yourself of any changes in the behavior of patients.”
“How long do I have to think it over?”
He nodded down the path. “Until we reach that tree. And the rate is fifty dollars an hour.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“So is GEM’s potential profit.”
“How many times can I sell my soul to them?”
Nick laughed. “Do I hear a yes?”
Screw it. “Yes.”
“Good.”
They jogged silently for a few yards. “By the way,” she said, “is Jordan Carr working with you on the Jack Koryan case?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“Why do you ask?”
“He requisitioned a blood assay of Mr. Koryan.”
“He did?” Nick looked genuinely surprised.
“Then later he asked Alice to fax it to another number. I checked,” she said. “It’s the office of Gavin Moy.”
“Gavin Moy?” Nick nearly stopped, but he caught himself and continued his pace again.
For several moments they jogged along without further comment. But Rene sensed a festering behind Nick’s silence and the way he stared at the water as if half-expecting something to surface.
33
BY MID-OCTOBER, BETH HAD CUT HER visits with Jack at the rehab center to once a week. In spite of the aggressive efforts at sensory and motor stimulation, the staff at Greendale had failed to elicit any on-command response from Jack. He could breathe on his own, cough on his own, make occasional meaningless sounds. But for all practical purposes, Jack was dead.
Meanwhile, Yesterdays opened to rave reviews in both the Boston Phoenix and the
And Jack slept.
And one night at the Bristol Lounge in Boston’s Four Seasons Hotel Beth met George King, an investor from McAllen, Texas. He was in town for a week of meetings. He was a kind, handsome man, and they spent the evening together walking through the Boston Garden. His wife had died the year before of breast cancer. To Beth’s mind they shared a common loss. On the eve of his departure, they shared his hotel bed.
And Jack slept.
When she visited Jack again, Beth felt less conflicted with devotion and honor than she had been. She knew she was slightly neurotic, more concerned with herself, thinking that she could end up like one of those family members waiting seventeen years for their loved one to wake up. But she had to be honest with herself. That just wasn’t her. She was no bedside wife. Besides, she had considered leaving him before all this happened. If he were awake, he’d understand.
When the nurses left, Beth laid her hand on Jack’s and, her eyes pooling with tears, she kissed him softly on the forehead. “I’m sorry, Jack,” she whispered.
The next day she filed for divorce.
34
“WHO’S FUZZY SWENSON?” RENE ASKED Christine Martinetti.
Christine looked startled. “How do you know about Fuzzy Swenson?”
“Your father. He was a little confused the last couple times I was in and asked if I was Fuzzy Swenson’s sister.”
“I don’t know about her, but Fuzzy Swenson was a buddy of Dad’s in Korea. He’s got a picture of him in his room.”
“I saw it.”
“What did he say about him?”
“Nothing. Just that he thought I was his sister. Also became a little agitated.”
