She’s re-creating what happened with Gene French in her own warped way; she’s using my secrets to inflict maximum pain.
“I can’t,” I say. “I never took any of your jewelry and you know that.”
“Jessica, I’m disappointed in you,” she says.
Thomas takes a step deeper into the room. Closer to me.
“Lydia, let the poor girl go. She told you the truth; I was the one who lied. Now this is between the two of us.”
Dr. Shields shakes her head sorrowfully. “That necklace is irreplaceable.”
“Lydia, I’m sure she didn’t take it,” Thomas says.
This is what I gambled on by telling the truth. I need him to see that despite the fact that I’ve followed her rules, she’s going to find an excuse to destroy me.
She gives me a gentle smile. “I will wait until tomorrow morning to alert the authorities, since it is Christmas.” She pauses. “This will also give you some time to talk to your parents first. After all, once they know the truth about Becky, they’ll understand why you were so desperate for money. Because of your guilt.”
This is exactly how she did it to April, I think as I drop my head into my hands and feel my shoulders shake. She coaxed out April’s secrets and used them like knives against her. She made April feel completely hopeless, as though everything she loved had been taken away. As though life was no longer worth living. Then she gave her the pills.
Dr. Shields believes she has stripped away everything from me, too: My job. Noah. My freedom. My family.
She’s giving me the night alone because she wants me to follow April’s path.
I wait a bit longer.
Then I lift my head.
Nothing in the room has changed: Dr. Shields stands by the piano, Thomas hovers behind the chair opposite me, and the platter of food rests on the table.
I look at Dr. Shields.
“Okay,” I say, making sure my voice sounds meek. “But before I go, can I ask you a question?”
She nods.
“Is it ethical for a psychiatrist to dispense Vicodin to a client without giving her a prescription?” I ask.
Dr. Shields smiles. I know she’s thinking about the pill she gave me.
“If a friend is going through a difficult time, it isn’t unheard of to offer a single dose,” she says. “Of course, I would never officially condone it.”
I lean back and cross my legs. Thomas is staring at me quizzically, probably wondering why I seem so composed all of a sudden.
“Yes, well, you gave Subject 5 far more than a single dose,” I say, locking eyes with her. “You gave April enough to kill her.”
Thomas inhales sharply. He moves another step closer to me; he’s still trying to protect me.
Dr. Shields is frozen; she doesn’t even appear to be breathing. But I can sense her brain whirling, composing a new narrative to offset my accusation.
Finally, she walks across the room to take the chair opposite mine.
“Jessica, I have no idea what you are talking about,” she says. “You think I wrote April a prescription for Vicodin?”
“You’re a psychiatrist—you’re allowed to prescribe medicine,” I challenge.
“True, but there would be a record if I ever wrote her a prescription,” she says, spreading out her hands. “And I didn’t.”
“I can ask Mrs. Voss,” I say.
“Go right ahead,” Dr. Shields responds.
“I know you gave her the pills,” I say. But I’m losing ground; she’s blocking everything I throw at her.
Thomas reaches up and touches his left shoulder. The gesture appears reflexive.
“How could I give Vicodin to someone else, when I’ve never even taken it myself?” Dr. Shields asks in a reasonable tone, the one that tried to convince me she hadn’t gotten to Noah or made me lose my job.
My watch is recording everything, but Dr. Shields hasn’t incriminated herself. Worse, I’ve enraged her. I can see it in the glint in her narrowed eyes; I can hear it in her steely tone.
I’m losing.
“You’ve never taken it,” Thomas says. He’s speaking in an odd-sounding monotone.
We both turn to look at him. His hand is still on his left shoulder—the one with the recent scar from his rotator cuff surgery. “But I have.”
The slight smile drops from her face.
“Thomas,” Dr. Shields whispers.
“I didn’t need more than a few,” he says slowly. “But I never threw out the rest of the bottle. April was in this house the night she died, Lydia. You told me she came to see you and that she was upset. Did you give her my old pills?”
He turns, as if he is going upstairs to check.
“Wait,” Dr. Shields says.
She remains perfectly still for a moment, then her face crumbles. “I did it for you!” she cries.
Thomas staggers, then collapses onto the love seat. “You killed her? Because I slept with her?”
“Thomas, I didn’t do anything wrong. April made her own choice to swallow those pills!”
“Is it murder if you only provide the weapon?” I ask.
They both whip around to face me. For once, Dr. Shields doesn’t have a response.
“But you did more than that,” I continue. “What did you say to April to drive her to the edge? You must have known she was suicidal in high school.”
“What did you say to her?” Thomas echoes hoarsely.
“I told her that my husband had a one-night stand and he regretted it!” The words burst out of Dr. Shields in a torrent. “I said he called her a nothing. He said it was the biggest mistake of his life and he would give anything to undo it.”
Thomas shakes his head, looking dazed.
“Don’t you see?” Dr. Shields pleads. “She was such a foolish girl! She would have told somebody about you!”
“You knew how fragile she was,” Thomas says. “How could you?”
Dr. shields’s face tightens. “She was disposable. Even her own father didn’t want to be around her.” Dr. Shields reaches out for Thomas, but he roughly pulls his hand away. “We can say April took those pills from our medicine cabinet; we knew nothing about it.”
“I don’t think the police will see it that way,” I say.
Dr. Shields doesn’t even look at me; she’s staring at Thomas beseechingly.
“The authorities won’t believe Jessica. She broke in here, she stalked you, she was obsessed with me,” she says. “Did you know she was accused of stealing before? There’s a respected director who fired her because of it. She sleeps around and she lies to her family. Jessica is a very disturbed young woman. I have all her survey answers to prove it.”
He briefly slides down his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose.
When he speaks, his voice booms through the room: “No.”
Thomas finally has the courage to confront Dr. Shields directly. He is no longer trying to escape from her with fake texts and fabricated stories.
“If our stories match, we’ll be okay,” she says desperately. “It’s two respected professionals against one unstable girl.”
He looks at her for a long moment.
“Thomas, I love you so much,” she whispers. “Please.”