Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 120230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
That was why I’d held the power in our friendship: I needed no one. Not that way. I could spend hours alone in perfect contentment. Bea hadn’t understood that, had admired me for what she saw as a boundless internal well of strength.
“Grace, tell me all of it.” When Darcie tried to speak up, I said, “Shut up.” It came out quiet and calm. “I can’t listen to any more of your self-serving bullshit.”
The look on Darcie’s face was one I’d never before seen—a primal terror that stripped away all vestiges of sophistication and turned her into a hunted animal.
Then Grace began to speak. “Most of the mental health institutions in this country,” she began, “are linked to the public health service. Chronically underfunded and, yes, there might be the odd mistake in treatment, but those mistakes get caught by the strict oversight systems in place—there’s little room for corruption.”
I nodded; that was the impression I’d gained from media articles on the topic.
“But you see, Nae-nae, the rich don’t like to air out their dirty laundry—especially when that dirty laundry might include children with ‘defective’ minds.” Venom dripped from the last words and I knew she’d heard them directed at her.
“There’s a small and very exclusive private hospital an hour or so out of Invercargill,” she said, naming one of the southernmost parts of the country. “People in my father’s circle send their kids there for discreet rehab. Drugs, alcohol, sex. The usual poor-little-rich-kid syndromes.
“But there’s a high-security wing, too,” she continued, “for those judged at risk of harm to themselves or to others. It’s a place with cold walls, locks, heavy doors, and no way to get outside beyond two-hour walks in a fenced green space with no view and no flowers.”
“No one could get away with forcing another adult into an institution.” I frowned. “There are laws.”
“Darcie had medical power of attorney over her sister in case she ever became incapacitated,” Grace said. “Did you know that? Bea had the same over Darcie. Their lawyer suggested it since they were both adults and had only each other. It was meant to stop any red tape if one of them was ever hurt bad.
“Bea signed and promptly forgot about it—but Darcie saw it as a weapon. Saw how she could use her influence with certain people to get rid of a sister who was so much better than her.”
I trusted Dr. Cox, could really talk to him, you know?
The same Dr. Cox had walked her down the aisle in lieu of her father.
“A doctor couldn’t authorize that alone,” I said, working it through. “Especially if the ‘patient’ had the money to threaten legal trouble. Too much risk for a private institution that wants to stay private.”
“Oh, dear Darceline got a nice shiny piece of paper from her pet judge, too. Confirmed that Bea was off her head, no longer able to make decisions. Darcie, as her closest relation, was appointed her ‘welfare guardian.’ What a joke!” Grace kicked the back of Darcie’s seat again, and this time, I didn’t rebuke her. “As if this piece of human garbage has ever cared for anyone’s welfare but her own.”
Reaching past Darcie to grab a bottle of water from the glove box, I twisted off the cap and drank down half the bottle before making myself look at this woman I thought I’d known enough to believe that she’d never harm Bea. Compete with her? Steal her lover? Sure. But to actively hurt her? To lock her up. No.
“Why did the judge listen to you, Darcie?” I asked in a calm tone that felt outside myself. “Please don’t lie. It’s too late for that. No matter what happens from this point on, I’ll be alerting the authorities about Bea—and looks like I have Grace to give me all the information I need on that, so I don’t even need to rely on you.”
My blood was cold, my thoughts a glass lake.
51
Darcie’s cheekbones pressed against her skin, blades that should cut. “Uncle Landis was a friend of my mother’s.”
One of her mother’s old law buddies, a man Darcie really looks up to . . .
Not just an old law buddy. A judge. One whose name sounded oddly familiar. I’d probably met him at Darcie’s wedding.
“He’d seen Beatrice at her worst,” Darcie continued, “during an out-of-control episode that she had right before her specialist got her on the correct medication and her therapist made a breakthrough. Once Dr. Cox certified that she needed to be in care, Uncle Landis signed off on the transfer.”
“He should have recused himself.” The cold seeped from my blood into my skin. “Why exactly were he and Cox so firmly on your side if they saw Bea grow up, too? Why no loyalty to her?”
“I had a video,” Darcie said, her eyes huge. “Bea lost it right before she went to the facility, was—”