He understood. He knew that Finch didn’t want to live with the progression of the disease. But in all their conversations about the future, they had both been keenly aware of the effect any such disclosure might have on Zee.

Melville’s lack of surprise shocked her. “You’re not okay with it?”

“Of course I’m not okay with it. But we’ve talked about the eventuality. He doesn’t want to live with end-stage Parkinson’s,” Melville said to her. “He doesn’t want to wind up in a nursing home in the fetal position for the next ten years.”

Zee sat silently for a few minutes. “Well, he’s not going to kill himself,” she said finally. “Not on my watch.”

38

ZEE HAD CALLED EARLIER and told Hawk she couldn’t see him today. It was his day off, and they had planned to take his boat out to Baker’s Island.

“There’s something going on with Finch,” she said. “I have to stick around.”

“You still want me to come by tonight?” he asked.

“Maybe not this time,” she said.

He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said.

HAWK WASN’T IN THE BEST of moods. He’d been looking forward to spending time with Zee. Not knowing what else to do with himself, he drove the van to his place in Marblehead to pick up his mail. As he climbed the steps, a police cruiser that had been circling pulled up.

“Been away on vacation?” the cop asked.

“No.”

“Your mail and papers have been piling up.”

Hawk retrieved the mail, thinking the cop’s question strange.

“So where have you been?” the cop asked.

“Working,” Hawk said.

“Not in town.”

“In Salem.”

“You working for one of the construction crews over there?”

Hawk knew the officer, though not well enough to call him by name. He had often seen him on his beat. Though his tone was friendly, the cop wasn’t as a general rule someone known to stop and make small talk.

“Do you have a real question you’d like to ask me, or are we just shooting the shit here?”

“Only trying to be friendly,” the officer said.

“I’m working on the Friendship.”

The cop looked at him blankly, clearly having no idea what Hawk meant by his last remark.

“It’s a boat,” Hawk said. “In Salem Harbor.”

It had always amazed Hawk that the towns of Marblehead and Salem shared not only a border but a harbor, yet few people he met knew what was going on from one town to the next.

“You shouldn’t leave your mail out like that,” the cop said. “It’s a written invitation.” He turned and walked back to the cruiser.

Hawk watched as it pulled away. “Weird,” he said under his breath as he let himself in.

39

YOU NEED TO CALM down,” Mattei said to Zee. Mattei had talked with Finch for over an hour.

“What do you think?”

“I think he’s depressed,” Mattei said. “Who wouldn’t be?”

Zee had to agree.

“This isn’t suicidal thinking,” Mattei said. “This is a logical thought progression in the course of a devastating illness.”

“He’s not exactly logical. He doesn’t even recognize people he’s known for years.”

“He’s not Maureen,” Mattei said.

“I know that.”

“Or Lilly.”

“I know it’s not the same thing,” Zee said. “But I don’t think I can live with another suicide.”

“I understand,” Mattei said.

“I don’t want to make this about me.”

“You’re entitled to your feelings,” Mattei said.

“Which is probably why Finch and Melville have been keeping things from me.”

“Have you made another appointment with the therapist I told you about?”

“Not yet,” she said.

“Now might be a good time to do that.”

“Just let me get Finch stabilized first.”

Mattei’s look revealed her doubts. Instead of discussing it further, she got on the phone and called the neurologist. When she hung up, she pulled out her prescription pad. “I think we should add Effexor to the mix,” she said. “It seems to work well with Parkinson’s, and it won’t interfere with his other meds.” She wrote the prescription. “This should help his mood a bit,” Mattei said. “You have to do some thinking about what’s next.”

“What do you mean?”

“He should be in a long-term-care facility,” Mattei said. “You know that as well as I do.”

“The whole point here is that he would rather die than end up in a nursing home,” Zee said.

“He needs physical therapy, and he needs counseling. He needs a good nutritionist and a nurse administering his meds.”

Zee wanted to say, Nevertheless, but she kept quiet. She knew that Mattei was right.

“Let’s give these new pills a chance to work. Then we can see what we’re dealing with,” Mattei said.

They sat at the table for several moments, neither of them saying anything. Then, from the bedroom, Finch’s alarm began to ring.

“I’ll be right back,” Zee said, and headed toward his room.

Mattei spotted the unopened wedding invitation on the lazy Susan and picked it up. She was still holding it when Zee came back into the room.

“Is he okay?” Mattei asked.

“He’s fine. He just got a little tangled in his sheets.” Zee saw the envelope in Mattei’s hands.

“I’ve been meaning to send back the RSVP,” Zee apologized. The wedding was not until Labor Day weekend. “I’ll be there.”

Mattei hesitated before speaking. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to,” she finally said. “I hear that Michael’s bringing someone.”

Zee stared at her. “Well, that was fast.”

“I’d say his ego is a bit bruised,” Mattei said. “Again, I’ll understand if you don’t want to come. Though both Rhonda and I will be disappointed.”

“I’ll be there,” Zee said.

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