Renee closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, her thin bodyexpanding and settling with it. Robin thought she might tell them to leave again, but when she spoke, her voice was calm. “We had a fight,” she said quietly. “Your father and me. That’s all I remember. The last image I have in my mind of him is full of anger. It isn’t fair...”
“Do you remember, ma’am,” Morasco said, “what the fight was about?”
Robin watched her, the rising and falling of her chest, her neck and arms frail beneath the hospital gown.
“Yes,” she said quietly.
Robin’s eyes widened.
“It was that podcaster, Quentin Garrison,” she said. “That’s what we were arguing about. He’d spoken to him. He thought we should speak to him. I didn’t.”
Robin looked at Morasco.
“We,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“I just noticed that you said ‘we.’ Not he. Your husband was a forensic psychiatrist and this was a true crime podcast—”
“Mr. Garrison was delusional, apparently,” she said quietly. “He saw me online. He thought I looked like someone I’m not. He’d had a tragedy in his family and I felt sorry for him. But I was leery about meeting him face-to-face. He sounded... unbalanced.”
“Mom?” Robin said. “You’re just remembering this now?”
She stared up at the ceiling. “Yes.”
“But you still don’t remember the actual shooting.”
“No,” she said. “Can you please leave, Detective Morasco? Can you find that poor, delusional young man and bring him to justice so I can take a nap without getting murdered in my sleep?”
“Thank you for your time, ma’am,” Morasco said. He nodded at Robin and slipped out the door.
After he was gone, Renee took the pitcher of water from her bedside, poured herself a plastic cupful and drank until it was empty. Then poured herself another and did the same. “I’m sorry for that young man. I’m sorry about what happened to his family,” she said. “But that doesn’t give him license to try and destroy ours.”
“Did you know her, Mom?” Robin said. “Did you know April Cooper?”
“Of course not, Robin.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“Your father felt very sorry for that young man,” she said, a tear leaking down her cheek. “I did too, but I didn’t think... It felt like your father wasn’t taking my safety into consideration...”
“Mrs. Bloom? Are we okay?” It was that young, freckled nurse, who apparently had no knowledge of second person singular.
She wiped her face. Smiled. “I’m... fine. Just tired.” Renee turned to Robin. “I’m going to take a little nap, honey. Is that okay with you?”
“Of course, Mom.”
As Robin left the room, she heard the squeak of the nurse’s shoes on the slick hospital floor. “Oh, we do look like we could use some rest,” the nurse was saying. “Let’s take our vitals.”
As Robin took the elevator down to the first floor where the cafeteria was located, she thought about something her mother had once told her, when she was going through some junior high school drama.At your age, you don’t even know who you are yet. That’s what growing up is—getting closer and closer to becoming yourself.
On her way into the parking lot, Robin nearly bumped into Detective Morasco. He nodded at her.
“I got kicked out too,” she said.
“I don’t blame your mother,” he said. “If I were her, I’d be pissed off too that this guy is on the loose.”
“Hopefully, he won’t be for long.”