Page 38 of One Last Lie

I decide to probe a little. “Do you think Cecilia is directionless?"

He purses his lips and thinks a moment. Then he says, “What do you think?”

“I’m interested in your opinion.”

He smiles and says, “I’m afraid it would be highly unprofessional of me to give it. However, you’ve taken no oath of confidentiality, and it would help me be of service to them if I had a better understanding of what’s going on in the home.”

I don’t know that I entirely agree with him that I’m not bound to confidentiality, but I might as well admit that propriety isn’t a priority for me right now.

“It seems that way,” I reply. “She is strong and protective of her husband’s memory and of her children. But, as you say, it’s left a vacuum. I don’t think she expected her husband’s death to leave the hole it has. She’s unsure how to interact with the children about it and she feels overwhelmed tending to his affairs.”

“You mean the business.”

“Yes.”

He frowns. “Has Elena been by to pressure Cecilia to give up her vote?”

It’s my turn to frown. This hardly falls under his professional responsibilities, but then again, he knows Johnathan’s intimate thoughts on Elena, and I need access to those if I am to confirm her involvement in his death. “She has. Twice.”

His frown deepens. “Hmm. She’ll continue to be back. Cecilia is at her most vulnerable now, and she’ll seek to take advantage of it.”

I make my move. “Did she and Johnathan get along?”

“Hardly. They had quite a bitter rivalry.”

“Then why keep her on?”

He shrugs. “I don’t pretend to understand business, so I can’t say for sure that he had any option other than keeping her on. But…” he meets my eyes and considers whether he should say this next or not. To my great annoyance, he decides not. “Well, that’s neither here nor there. How is Elijah?”

“He’s… closed off.”

“Aloof like Isabella?”

“No, not aloof. Closed off completely. He’s opened up to me once or twice, but he’s refused to do the same to his siblings or his mother. I get the impression he blames her a little for the loss of his father.”

I watch Doctor Harrow’s face carefully and notice a slight tensing of his jaw. He knows something there.

Who she really is.

I probe again. “I wonder if Cecilia truly loved Johnathan. It’s a horrible thing to say, of course, but when I talk to her, I sometimes get the sense that she doesn’t miss him. She’s angry that he’s gone, but… it’s as though she’s only angry at the inconvenience and not the loss of the man she loves.”

He nods but doesn’t give anything away. “I see. And how are your nightmares?”

I blink. “My nightmares?”

“Yes. When we spoke last, you mentioned you were suffering from nightmares. About your sister?”

I stare intently at him. I have no recollection of that conversation. The last time we spoke, I recall only discussing the children and ushering him to the door.

But how else could he have known? The doctor from the hospital—what was her name again? Gonzalez? Gutierrez?—she could have told him, but what reason would he have to suggest that I said anything about them? Didn’t the nightmare come after meeting him anyway?

I shake my head. “I… um…no, no nightmares.”

“So they’ve stopped? That’s good to hear.”

“Forgive me, Doctor,” I say, “I don’t…”

I stop myself. If I tell him I don’t remember our conversation, what conclusion might he draw about my mental fitness?

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