Page 61 of The Drowned Woman
Jack hugged her again and left.
Leah started for the door to give Risa time to change into the gown, but Risa called her back. “Wait. Can we talk? I need to tell you the truth. I can’t keep hiding it—not with people dying. I couldn’t say anything in front of Jack. He’d be so disappointed.”
Leah sat back down and waited. After several moments of silence, she asked, “Disappointed in what, Risa?”
“Disappointed in me. It was right when we started dating. Dom and editors kept pressuring me to head back out, back into war zones. Lord knew there were enough to choose from. They kept at me, blaming Jack, saying I’d gone soft, wanted to settle down. And I did—I do.”
“But?”
“But Jack wasn’t the real reason why I quit—not the only reason. My heart was empty… no, that’s not right, it was like it was too full, but with darkness. And that darkness was eating away at me. I wasn’t sleeping; every time I closed my eyes all I saw were the dead babies and children and mothers and fathers who’d tried to save them but who couldn’t even save themselves…”
“You were burnt out. Maybe even suffering from PTSD.”
Risa shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe. Probably. But I couldn’t keep turning down assignments, not without looking weak. And if a woman in my field shows any weakness they’ll never get the choice assignments. I had a reputation to protect. So…” She blew her breath out, twisting the gown in her hands as if wringing someone’s throat. “I told them I was sick.”
“Is that why there was ipecac in your closet?” Leah asked. “Have you been creating your own symptoms?”
“Ipecac?”
“Jack told me. He found it hidden in an old pair of boots.”
Risa shook her head. “I never used ipecac. I don’t even own any. I lied about my symptoms, to Jack and Dom, to my doctor, but I never took anything. That’s why the first doctor couldn’t find anything wrong. But then, I really did become ill, with real symptoms. After that I wasn’t lying. But I guess the doctors were right—it must have been my mind, making me sick, because I wanted to be sick. Don’t you see?” She was close to tears. “It’s all my fault. If I’d kept working, Chaos would have never targeted me, none of this would have happened.”
Leah slid up onto the examination table beside Risa. “It’s not your fault, Risa. Your doctors couldn’t find a diagnosis, that’s true. But I think I have an idea why—and it wasn’t all in your mind.”
Risa sniffed and looked up. “It wasn’t?”
“No. Your lab results were abnormal. But not always in the same way—which is why your doctors were so frustrated. Nothing fits with any one diagnosis. However, if you look at the pattern, it could fit with several different toxins.”
“Toxins? You mean Jack was right? I was poisoned?”
“I think so.” Leah paused, waited for that to sink in. Risa seemed overwhelmed, but there were still so many questions that Leah needed answers to. “You’re certain the ipecac isn’t yours?”
“No. Someone must have put it there. But Jack’s the only person who’d go into my bedroom.” She raised her head to face Leah, eyes wide. “Unless Dom did during one of his visits. But why? How does that fit with him being a killer and wanting me to write his story?”
“I’ve no idea.” Risa was right; it didn’t make sense to Leah either. “Maybe the ipecac was Plan B? To discredit you if you ever got too close to the truth about him?”
“I guess.” She frowned. “I guess I’m not as smart as he thought I was, because I can’t put any of this together into a coherent picture.”
There was another discrepancy Leah hoped to clear up: the timing of the nicotine administration—if indeed Risa’s symptoms this morning were from nicotine. “Jack said you got sick last night after Dom gave you your tea?”
“That’s what he said.”
“You don’t remember it that way?”
Risa bit her lower lip. “Again, please don’t tell Jack. I don’t want him to worry. But sometimes, I wake up in the morning and I can’t remember the night before—huge swaths of time, just gone.”
“How often does it happen?”
“A few times a month. I just lose time.”
It could be PTSD, but it could also be a side effect of a toxin. Leah was glad she’d asked the lab to run the full tox panel. “What do you remember from last night?”
“I remember you leaving. I remember Dom there, making me laugh with some crazy story about another one of his clients. I remember Jack cooking. After that, it’s all a blur.”
“You don’t remember eating dinner or drinking the tea or Dom leaving?”
“No.”
