Free Once Upon a Day by Lisa Tucker Page A

but otherwise, there wasn’t any reason for my choice, was there?”
    “No,” he said.
    “Was there a reason that you were at the bus station rather than somewhere else in the city?”
    “I guess not.”
    “This is the charming coincidence. When things in the world that are unconnected suddenly connect, and a pattern emerges.”
    He exhaled. “But what if the pattern wasn’t what you’d call charming?”
    “It’s not the pattern that’s charming,” she said. “It’s that there is a pattern at all.”
    He nodded, but he was thinking, for once, that her father was right. It was only her optimism that gave her this view. Otherwise she would see that a pattern of serial killings was still a pattern, to give only one example out of millions.
    They were out of the cab, walking to the hospital, when she suddenly stopped. “Jimmy believes in it too. He’s actually the one who came up with the phrase. He’s very brilliant.”
    “I’m sure he is.”
    “He has the most beautiful red hair. It’s not straight like mine; it’s what Grandma called ‘a riot of curls.’”
    Stephen stuck his hands in his pockets, wondering why she wasn’t moving on to the hospital.
    “He’s very funny too. I have no sense of humor, but Jimmy can make a joke whenever he likes.”
    He saw her hand flutter up to her heart. “Is it racing?” he said.
    She took a deep breath. “No, it’s fine.”
    He waited a minute before he asked her what was wrong.
    “I called Father’s doctor this morning from the telephone by your bedside, to find out how Father was. Dr. Humphrey told me he seemed a bit better.”
    This was the first Stephen had heard about her father being sick, but he nodded because he knew there was something else she wanted to say.
    “When Dr. Humphrey asked me about Jimmy, I told him about this place, though I couldn’t remember the precise name of it. He asked if I thought it would help if Father came too, and I said no. Jimmy has been so angry with Father for so long, and . . . and one of the pictures we purchased yesterday bore some resemblance to Father.”
    Stephen knew it had to be the man with the snake in his mouth. It was the only picture of a man.
    “I think you made the right choice,” he said.
    “Thank you, but that isn’t my question.” She paused again and looked at the front door of the psych ward. “My question is how can I be sure that Dr. Phillips was wrong? I want to see Jimmy so badly, but what if my own visit harmed him in some way?”
    Stephen wasn’t a psychiatrist; in fact, he barely remembered his six-week med school psych rotation. But he didn’t hesitate to tell her there was nothing to worry about; her visit wouldn’t hurt her brother.
    “I’m ready then,” she said, straightening her shoulders. “Thank you.”
    They walked into the hospital, and as expected, Phillips wasn’t there. The attending was Nancy Baker. Stephen knew her socially; she used to date one of the partners in his practice. She was a decent psychiatrist, though far from what you’d call compassionate.
    Case in point: Nancy had barely said hello to Dorothea when she turned to him. “I heard about the situation last night,” she said, in hushed tones. “Jay left a note on the chart. I’m really sorry, Steve. I can’t believe he treated you like this. If Cummins was still here, I could complain, but he’s been replaced. Don’t know if you heard that. Of course it’s all politics. Phillips knows how to play the game better than the rest of us. He and Lorber, the new chief, are cut from the same cloth.”
    Stephen let her go on like this for another minute, but then he reminded her that Dorothea was anxious about her brother.
    “Yes.” Dorothea stepped forward at the mention of her name. “May I see him now?”
    Nancy said, “First we should talk. I can tell you a little of the history of the case.”
    “I would prefer to see him first,” Dorothea said.
    Stephen noticed her glancing at the double