“Not so regularly.”
I nodded. “Quinn is very detached,” I said.
“I know you consider him a friend, so I’ll refrain from criticism.”
“I can’t believe Darwin hired you to reprogram me. Wait—yes I can. But how does that sit with you? I mean, you treated me as a patient. Do you really feel it’s ethical to brainwash me into killing people?”
“I’ll say it’s appropriate. As for your use of the word ‘brainwashing,’ I’m not going to split hairs over terminology.”
I’d used the term on purpose, trying to get a rise out of her. But she didn’t bite. I said, “Nadine, you’re the most honest professional person I’ve ever met.”
“It helps to believe in the cause.”
“You know about Monica Childers?”
“I do. She was the catalyst, the one that put the wedge of doubt in your mind.”
“You’re very good at what you do, Nadine.”
“Not as good as you,” she said.
I kept my eyes fixed on hers until she blinked. “You’re a psychiatrist,” I said. You’re supposed to stand for something. You seriously expect me to believe you want me to keep killing innocent people?”
“Your issues with innocence started with Victor, and they’ll end the moment you stop working for him.”
“It’s good money,” I said, though I had already made the decision to stop.
“You took the work for one reason. And I’ll wait for you to tell me what it is.”
I already knew. “There was too much hang time,” I said, “between the killings.”
Nadine’s eyes misted briefly. She patted my hand. “This is one of the three reasons it’s worth giving up my practice to work with people like you.”
“What are the other two?”
“Money and Joan.”
“Joan of Arc again?”
“You remember the first time we met, the pictures on my desk?”
“The two Japanese-American boys your sister adopted?”
“You have a prodigious memory,” she said.
“For me it was a month ago.”
“Joan was my sister. On the morning of September 11, 2001, she worked on the top floor of the World Trade Center.”
I winced. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“She called her husband that morning, but he was busy with a client. She called me, terrified, but I was busy with a patient. She tried to leave me a message, but her phone went dead.”
“You feel somehow responsible?”
“Of course not. But it shouldn’t have happened. And when it did, I should have been there for her.”
“And now you want revenge.”
She shook her head. “Revenge is a waste of emotion.”
