Time of Death

Again her mind wandered back to Beau and the friends and neighbors who had drifted away from the family after his suicide. They were afraid of suicide, afraid of mental illness, afraid of losing their own mind or watching someone they cared about lose theirs. People looked for someone to blame for Beau’s suicide, because if there was no one to blame, then it could happen to them. People were angry at the Bryces for being guarded about the circumstances, as if – had they had heard all the details of Beau’s suicide – they could stop it from happening to their loved ones. People were afraid to talk to the Bryces about their loss because it would mean confronting someone else’s raw emotions and maybe having to face some raw emotions of their own.

It’s all about fear.

What would it be like for her parents now? They were the only ones who still lived in Catskill. They were good, kind people. And now, in their late seventies, they would be thrown into having to fight to preserve their son’s memory. Even though it was all a terrible mistake, that little idea had been implanted in people’s minds and would be hard to extract; Beau Bryce took his own life because he was guilty.

Work. Go back to something you can control.

Ren took her cup of coffee and returned to the bullpen. She stopped dead in the middle of the room.

‘Hey!’ She pointed at the television. ‘Someone – pump up the volume.’

Colin reached for the remote control.

‘The police are seeking the public’s help in locating missing Denver psychiatrist, Dr Helen Wheeler—’ Helen’s photo in the top right-hand corner of the screen …

‘Oh my God,’ said Ren.

‘What?’ said Cliff.

‘I know her.’

‘Yeah, you’re obviously her best client,’ said Colin.

If you only knew. ‘She’s a friend of mine. I consulted with her on cases a few times, actually. She’s a lovely woman. Shhh.’

‘Dr Wheeler was last seen as she left work four days ago on March eighth. She was due to speak at an event in Florida on March ninth, but she didn’t catch her flight that morning. Dr Wheeler is sixty-two years old, five-foot three, of medium build, with shoulder-length blonde hair and blue eyes. She was dressed in a full-length dark-gray coat over a pale gray wool pant suit.’

Ren felt her stomach sink. That was what she was wearing the last time I saw her.

Ren dialed Helen’s cell phone as she stood there. It was the only thing she could think of doing. She got voicemail. She didn’t leave a message.

Please be safe, wherever you are.

Two hours later, Ren called Helen’s office and spoke with her secretary. There was no update. Helen had been gone four days, that was all anyone knew.

Ren tried to work, but she was flooded with images of Beau. And worried about her parents. And wishing she could discuss it all with Helen, the one person who always managed to break the cycle. Ren felt a stab of selfishness at wanting Helen to be back to help her.