Page 54 of Cruel Hearts

“It’s good you brought her home,” Dr. Reagan says, tapping his fingers on the folder, his eyes serious behind his glasses. “I’m going to look into their practices. I don’t like what I see in her chart, though it seems she’s already coming back. She’s young, resilient, and healthy. This may not be as difficult as I anticipate.”

“Christ, I hope not.” She’s already been through enough.

“She’ll need supervision. I’m afraid she’s not able to be on her own just yet.”

“I’ve made the arrangements, and she’ll be in good hands. I’ll make sure of it.”

The doctor assesses me, a frown bringing out more of the lines on his face, but he finds what he’s looking for in my steady gaze and says, “I believe she will.” He pauses. “She’ll need therapy. I’ve seen the footage filmed at the Lyndhurst, and what made her break will need to be addressed.”

“Yes, I understand. I appreciate you coming by.” Shaking his hand, I hurry him toward the elevator, stopping his line ofinquiry. I don’t know why she snapped. I thought I did, but now I have more questions than answers.

Nathalie stands at the edge of the living room, watching warily. She’s never met Zarah, but they’re both Ash’s victims and they may be able to help each other.

Peggy’s good at her job, and five minutes later, a nurse arrives carrying two suitcases and large bag. Ingrid Flannigan is a pretty redhead dressed professionally in linen pants and a blouse, and she greets me at the elevator, her handshake firm. She’s already spoken to the doctors at Quiet Meadows and has gone over the past five years of Zarah’s supposed treatment. Her eye contact is unwavering, and I decide to trust her for now. She nods, knowing she passed my brief inspection, and holding out her hand, she quietly introduces herself to Zarah and Lucille.

Marginally, I relax. Zarah’s where she should have been all along.

Nathalie pads across the room toward me. She’s still dressed in the clothes she wore to dinner last night, and I hug her. There will be a lot of changes happening in the next few days, and I don’t want her to be scared. If she’s frightened, she won’t help me. As of right now, her testimony alone is worth its weight in gold, never mind what she knows that she’s afraid to tell me.

Zarah looks at me, processes Nathalie in my arms, and the corners of her lips slope downward. “Stella.”

“I know, Z. We’re looking for her. She disappeared after she visited you.” I’m reluctant to tell her bad news—I don’t know what will set her off. I want to stop giving her medication, not upset her so much she needs more. She seems to understand and cuddles into Lucille’s side. Ingrid holds Zarah’s hand and speaks in low tones while Lucille nods.

Mel texts and says she’s at the airport and on her way to my office, and I wolf down a sandwich and some chips. I skipped breakfast, and this not a good time to let hunger distract me.I don’t want to go downstairs so soon after bringing Zarah home, but it’s a more professional place to meet the private investigator.

Zarah goes up to her room to nap and I feel better about leaving. I need to find a free second and figure out where Ingrid’s going to sleep. The easiest solution would be for me to move into my parents’ suite and let her have my room—Nathalie’s sleeping in the penthouse’s only guest room—but their bedroom has been unchanged all this time. Like Zarah’s room, like Stella’s apartment, I haven’t had the heart to touch it.

Now that Zarah’s home, I’m glad I didn’t change anything in the penthouse. The familiarity might be comforting.

“Perhaps a cot in Zarah’s room,” Lucille says, reading my mind. “Until something else can be arranged.”

I blow out a breath. “That’s a good idea.” Zarah’s bedroom is large enough, a cot can easily fit.

“I’ll see to it right away,” she says, sprinkling more chips onto my plate.

Nathalie went back to her room, and Lucille and I are alone. The penthouse hasn’t had this many people in it since my parents were alive, and she sparkles. She has people to fuss over again, and she’s in her element.

“You did a good thing,” she says, clipping the chip bag closed.

I scoff. “Maybe one good thing, but not soon enough.”

“We all make mistakes. The important thing is recognizing them and doing what you can to fix them.”

I sag on my barstool, leaning my arms heavily on the counter. “I’m trying, but I believed the wrong people. Believedinthe wrong people. I let all this go on too long.”

Lucille wrings a dishcloth in her hands. She always looks worried when she’s about to say something I don’t want to hear. “Zarah wants to see Stella. Do you know where she is? Can you contact her?”

“I hired a private investigator and she’s flying into King’s Crossing this morning. She runs her own firm in LA. Nigel Wagner recommended her and said she knows what she’s doing. I’ve been using someone Ash suggested, but I think he’s been lying to me. She’ll find her, Lucille. Don’t worry.”

She looks away and busies herself straightening the kitchen. She doesn’t think I should trust Ash. She thinks I’m wrong about why I think Stella left me, too.

“Lucille?” I ask, loading my plate into the dishwasher.

“Yes?” She looks up from the desk she’s decluttering.

“What do you think about Ash?”

“I haven’t seen Ashton Black since he was a child, come here to play.”

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