Page 72 of Shades of Henry
“That’s right. Think about it. When did this have a happy ending?”
“I….” She caught her breath. “I wasn’t supposed to even be with him. I… I was just out of school and I was hired in their practice, you see? And one of the other doctors wasn’t there, and Robbie said, ‘Deal with the guy!’ so I did! Only I waswrong,because I shouldn’t have even been there and he almost died!”
“See?” Henry said softly. “You were in over your head from the start, right?”
“And Robbie….” She had to catch a sob. “He said if I went… went along… you know, just bend over, Summer, it’ll feel good, I got an itch… and I did, because I’d worked so hard and I’d lose my license and he… he… made the bad part go away.”
“And you were trapped,” Henry said, his voice low and compassionate, like he knew how she felt.
Oh God. He knows how she feels. He really, really, does.
And he kept going. “You couldn’t get out, because you’d screwed up. And you had to keep doing what he told you, because even if he was the one who fucked you in the first place, he was the only one who could keep you out of the fire, right?”
“Yeah,” she said softly. “I thought… he was so desperate to keep me there, doing stuff for him. I thought he might care for me. I hated myself so badly by then, he could be the only one.”
“He didn’t give you up,” Henry said. “We caught you first. So if nothing else, you have that.”
“I… it’s not what you think,” she said hoarsely. “I… the thing I did. Where I screwed up. I prescribed too big a dose. And the guy almost OD’d. And this doctor I work for now—he’s terrible. He almost kills people every day. And I… I mean, I’m already so fucked anyway. I’m trying to keep his patients from getting addicted, because he doesn’t seem to care. And Robbie caught me doing that and said I might as well givehimthe extra drugs.” Lance heard a terrible weariness in her voice. “I’m so tired. I’m so damned tired. I was so proud, you know? I’d be a nurse. I’d help people.”
“Sh… here, honey. Give me that. That’s a girl. Thank you. Yeah. Yeah. I know. Our lives get screwed up sometimes and we just have to clean up the mess and go on.”
“I’m gonna go to jail,” she wailed. “And I deserve it!”
“A little bit yeah,” Henry told her, and even in the closet, Lance stifled a laugh. Because that was Henry—dead honest, even while comforting a criminal. “But I’ve got some friends who might make that a little less painful, okay?”
“What’s gonna happen to Robbie?” she asked pitifully.
“He’s going to go to jail for a lot longer,” Henry said, voice grim. “I hope that’s okay.”
“I don’t know.” And she was lost. So lost. Lance could pity her because he imagined that’s exactly how Henry had sounded when he’d shown up on his brother’s doorstep. With a little more asshole thrown in, of course.
“That’s fine too.”
“Worrall?” The voice was muffled, but the pounding on the outside door cut through two rooms.
“Come in, Kryzynski,” Henry called. “She’s unarmed, and she’s given the gun to me. And by the way, nice timing!”
“We were literally across the street, questioning someone else in the hospital.” The voice got louder as, presumably, the door to the office opened. “And I’ll take that. Ms. Frasier?”
“Yessir?”
“Okay. Here. If you like, you can take your sweater off, and we can put the cuffs on in the front. You can cover them with your sweater that way.” There was another clatter as more officers entered the room. “Okay, guys. Go search the closet for the stash.”
“But don’t shoot my boyfriend!” Henry called immediately. “Lance, come out of there—nobody’s weapon is drawn!”
Lance peeped out to discover a scene right out of Friday night television. A group of policemen surrounded Henry, who had his arms protectively around a woman in her midthirties with a bony jaw and bold knife-blade of a nose.
She wasn’t conventionally pretty, no—especially not when her eyes were swollen with tears and she had too much mascara running down her cheeks. She’d sounded a little naïve, a little impressionable, easy prey for a handsome, smooth-talking doctor.
Henry was right. She was going to do jail time, and she’d certainly get her license revoked. But Summer Frasier’s life wasn’t over, not yet. There were second chances for people who got sucked in over their heads, who did the wrong things because they’d felt too trapped to even see the right ones.
Henry was living proof.
“Okay, Summer. I’m going to turn you over to Officer K-ski here, and he’s going to read you your rights.”
Kryzynski arched an eyebrow. “K-ski?”
Henry shrugged. “It’s how Jackson has you on his phone. I think he forgets how to spell your name.”
