Emily’s eyes looked from the television to Josie. “Is he sad?”
Josie nodded. “I’m afraid so, yes.”
“Me too,” said Emily, clutching her dog tighter.
“Emily,” Josie asked, thinking of what Pax had said. “Pax told me to ask you a question. He said to ask you what all grown-ups do?”
“They lie.”
“What makes you say that?”
She looked back at the TV. Someone had put Nickelodeon on. With a shrug, she said, “Because it’s true.”
“Did your mom lie?”
“Only because she had to.”
“Why did she have to lie?”
“It’s a secret.”
“Who told you it was a secret?”
“Mama.”
Josie tried to catch the girl’s gaze once more. “Emily, it’s really important now that you don’t keep secrets from the police. We’re trying to catch the person who did bad things to your mom, and that’s why we need to know any secrets your mom told you.”
“I can’t tell secrets.”
Josie tried a different tactic. “Emily, did anyone else ever live with you, Holly, and your mom?”
Emily’s eyes snapped toward Josie. “I can’t tell secrets. If I tell secrets, more bad things will happen.”
“I promise you that nothing bad will happen if you tell me these secrets,” Josie said.
“I can’t tell secrets,” Emily repeated, curling in on herself.
“Okay,” Josie said. Shifting away from the subject, she asked, “Did you ever meet Pax’s dad?”
“He came to get Pax and make him go away. He didn’t want us to be friends.”
“Did he ever hurt any of you?”
“Maybe he hurt Pax. He was mean.”
Marcie appeared in the opening of the curtain. “I’m going to go to Harper’s Peak now for that meeting. The nurse is aware that Emily will be here for a while longer.”
Emily’s voice was small. “Can Josie stay until you come back?”
“I don’t think she can, Emily. I’m sorry, but she’s got police work to do.”
“I can stay,” Josie said. “My colleague is upstairs getting some information. I’ve got to wait for him anyway.”
Marcie smiled. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Josie sat in the chair next to the bed. Emily went back to watching TV. Within minutes, she was asleep. Noah appeared at the entrance to the curtained area, a flash drive in one hand and a small stack of pages in the other.
“What took so long?” Josie asked.
He lifted his chin to motion toward Emily. “I had a feeling we weren’t getting out of here anytime soon. I asked the clerk in Health Information Services to print out the registration form from the last time Lorelei was seen in the ER.”
He pulled the curtain closed behind him and walked over, handing Josie the stack of pages. “It was a year ago. She was here for a spider bite. Evidently, she had a severe reaction. Anyway, her emergency contact is there.”
Josie turned the pages until she found it. “Vincent Buckley.”
“The psychiatrist who lives two hours away from here and is prescribing her anti-psychotics and anti-anxiety drugs is her emergency contact. That strike you as odd?”
Josie handed the pages back to him and took out her phone. “You know it does. I’m calling this guy back. Stay here.”
Phone pressed to her ear, Josie paced the hallway, avoiding nurses and doctors as they walked to and fro. This time, Vincent Buckley answered. “Dr. Buckley here. Can I help you?”
Josie identified herself. “I need to talk to you about Lorelei Mitchell.”
There was a hesitation, but Josie could hear him breathing on the other end. Then he said, “What is this about, then?”
“Lorelei was murdered yesterday. So was one of her daughters. We found medication in her home that was prescribed by you. She also put you down as her emergency contact. I need to meet with you as soon as possible to discuss anything you can tell us about Lorelei and her family situation.”
More silence. His breathing quickened. “M-m-m-my,” he stammered. “I don’t know what to say. I—what happened? Can you tell me what happened?”
“We don’t know what happened,” Josie said. “That’s why I called. What can you tell me about Lorelei’s living situation?”
Instead of answering, he said, “Can you describe the scene for me?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“The, uh, crime scene.”
“I can’t give out that information, Dr. Buckley. This is an open investigation.”
“I understand. Her living situation? She lived with her children.”
Josie held back a sigh of exasperation. “Dr. Buckley, we’ve got a murderer on the loose. Time is of the essence. If you could tell me everything you know about Lorelei then I can decide what information is useful and what’s not.”
“What, specifically, would you like to know?”
He wasn’t going to make it easy. “Are you the father of her children?”
A chuckle. “Goodness, no. Lorelei and I were colleagues back when she was practicing. That’s how I know her.”
“All right,” Josie said. “Do you have any idea who might have wanted to kill her?”
“I live two hours from her. I didn’t see her often. I was not privy to the minutiae of her daily life.”
“She was your patient and you were her emergency contact. She must have confided in you about many things.”
Another long hesitation. Just as Josie was about to ask if he was still there, a long sigh came over the line. “Detective, Lorelei Mitchell was not my patient.”
“What? We’ve got medications with your name on them.”
“Right. This is a lengthy conversation that is best had in person. Unfortunately, I’m not in a position to drive just now. My car is in the shop. But I’ll have it back by the end of next week. Perhaps then we could—”
“I’ll see you in a few hours,” Josie said, and hung up.
Nineteen
Vincent Buckley lived on a sprawling farm in Bucks County surrounded by a low, crumbling stone wall. The driveway to his large farmhouse was at least a half mile. On either side of it were rolling fields of verdant green dotted by the occasional tree. While it didn’t offer the kinds of views Harper’s Peak did, it was very beautiful. She and Noah parked in front of the house and climbed
