Page 80 of The Instruments of Darkness

She looked at me quizzically.

“Why would you ask that?”

“Curiosity.”

The answer appeared to satisfy her.

“Then yes,” she said, “I did. I suppose most mothers do. It seems to come naturally, because I never sang much at all before I had Henry.”

“Do you remember what you sang?”

She thought about this. I could see her eyes were growing wet, but I didn’t regret the line of questioning. I needed to be sure about Sabine Drew.

“Oh, I just held him to me and hummed, really. I wonder if it’s something to do with the vibrations.”

“And did you gain comfort from it?”

“Yes, I think I did. Are you suggesting I should sing to my lost child?”

“I don’t see why not. Wherever Henry is, he’s listening for you.”

She wiped at her face.

“Then maybe I will. Goodnight.”

And as she ascended the stairs, I heard her start to hum.

CHAPTER LII

Colleen still hadn’t surfaced when I called Maralou Burnham shortly after 8 a.m. the following morning. Maralou was the only real contact I had at the U.S. Postal Service. She worked in administrative support up in Augusta and was always willing to help if she could, in return for a token bottle of wine and so long as it didn’t require her to break any laws. I gave her the number of the money order used by Mara Teller, and she confirmed that it wouldn’t be difficult to discover where it was purchased, along with the form of payment. As a wager to make things interesting, I told her I’d send a second bottle if the money order hadn’t been paid for in cash, but suspected I was unlikely to have to come through for the extra bottle.

COLLEEN’S PHYSICIAN WAS A woman named Lyra Shapleigh. She worked in the Libbytown area of Portland, based in a fancy medical center seemingly designed to make a person feel guilty about being ill, in case they bled and left a mark. Her sister, Molly, was the obstetrician who had delivered Colleen’s son.

Dr. Lyra Shapleigh was in her late thirties, all soft curves hiding sharp, hard edges. She informed me that she’d treated Colleen Clark for postpartum depression, and although Colleen had struggled with motherhood early on, she had been managing better in recent months. Shapleigh had suggested therapy to help address the problem, and hadn’t objected to the therapist recommended to Colleen by one of her friends, Piper Hudson. Shapleigh then sat back with the air of a woman who had completed an unpleasant task without vomiting. Her main concern, as she made no effort to hide, was less for her patient than her own reputation. She explained that she didn’t want to be dragged into the case, for which I could hardly blame her. I asked if she’d been contacted by the prosecution, and she admitted that she had. A conversation with someone from Erin Becker’s team was scheduled for later in the day, but so far there had been no suggestion of a subpoena being served.

“I’ve already consulted my lawyer,” she said, “and he doubts I can be forced to testify—by either side.”

I didn’t offer an alternative view. I wasn’t a lawyer, and every night I promised on my knees to be good so God wouldn’t turn me into one while I slept.

“Do you like Colleen?” I asked.

The question threw Shapleigh.

“Like?” she replied, as though it had never before struck her that a physician might have feelings for a patient, positive or otherwise. I assumed it wasn’t always relevant to a practitioner, given the nature of the Hippocratic oath, and a doctor could find ways to relieve themself of an unloved patient if they really tried. “I—Well, sure. She was quiet at first, and very shy, but I found her sharp, self-aware, and drily funny when she wanted to be. Why do you ask?”

“I have an inquiring mind,” I said. “Also, I’m wondering whether you were surprised when she was accused of harming her son.”

“If I said that it requires a lot to surprise me, would that constitute avoidance?”

“I’d take it as contextualization.”

Shapleigh permitted some warmth to melt her.

“Then, within that context, yes, I was surprised,” she said. “Colleen had never demonstrated harmful ideation toward her son, not in my presence. A lot of young women have difficulty with motherhood, particularly with a first child in the early months—or years. It’s not uncommon. But Colleen’s case was more severe than most, and both psychologically and physically debilitating. It was important that the issue be addressed, for Henry’s sake as well as her own.”

“Did she speak to you about her husband?”

“He came up in conversation.”

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