Page 110 of Healed Heart
Stephanie shakes her head.“Not a match,” she confirms.“The differences are subtle but they’re there.”
“So Ralph wrote Lindsay’s suicide note.”Jason’s voice is cold.
Blake nods.“It certainly appears so.But we need more than handwriting comparisons to build a case.”
“All right,” Jason says, resolute.“Then let’s get those fingerprints.”
“I’m working on it,” Blake assures him.“If one of my investigators can get into his room…”
Blake goes on, but I stop listening.
Because I’m not waiting any longer.
I’m going to get those fingerprints myself.
ChapterForty-Two
Jason
This has gone far enough.
After the meeting with Blake and Stephanie, I tell Angie that I have an appointment with Dr.Engel.
I hate lying to her, but I know she won’t question me.After all, she thinks psychiatry is great.
Instead, I take an hour to figure out some things, and then I head to the hospital.
Ralph is going to answer to me.
I drive in silence.No music, no talk radio, just the steady hum of the engine and the rhythmic click of the turn signal when I change lanes.The hospital looms ahead.A place meant for healing.A place that should have saved Julia.Lindsay.
But it didn’t.And nowhe’sin there, breathing, alive, while they’re?—
I tighten my grip on the wheel.The thought doesn’t finish itself.It never does.It just lingers, an open wound that refuses to close.
People say time dulls the pain, that grief softens its edges, but they don’t know what they’re talking about.It doesn’t fade.It doesn’t lessen.It festers.And today, I’m walking into that hospital with the weight of it pressing down on me.
What do you say to the man who took everything from you?What words exist for that kind of loss?For that kind of rage?
I don’t know.
But I’m about to find out.
I pull into the hospital parking lot, leave the car, and head inside.The steel doors of the elevator loom before me.An elderly woman stands next to me.She gives me a smile.
I smile back, even though I’m not feeling it.
“I’m going to see my husband,” she says.“He had a heart transplant.”
“I hope he’s doing well,” I offer.
“He is.”She frowns.“It’s tough, though.”
“I’m sure.”The elevator doors open.I gesture to her to enter before me.
The elevator doors close behind us, and I push the button for Ralph’s floor.“Which floor?”I ask her.
“Three.”
