Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Jason
Sitting in Human Resources isn’t what I had in mind this morning, especially not after I realized that suicide note is not in Lindsay’s handwriting.
Thoughts thunder through my mind.
I suppress the trembling that wants to take over my body.
Lindsay didn’t write that note.
Maybe she had someone else write it for her.
But why would she do that?
And if she did that, someone else has knowledge of what happened. Of why she did what she did.
I mean, I know why she did it. Depression, the loss of Julia. Her refusal to blame me.
Even though I know she did.
“Dr. Lansing,” Regina Morales, the head of HR says, “I suppose you wonder why you’re here.”
“It’s crossed my mind.”
Except that I don’t give a rat’s ass why I’m here. All I can think about is that note. Lindsay.
Who the hell wrote it?
Or is it her handwriting? I mean, I’m no expert. It’s been three years since I’ve seen her write anything.
Do I even have anything to check it against? Only her signature on documents. Lindsay didn’t write much. She mostly typed on her computer.
But she did grade papers by hand sometimes. The few times they were turned in as hardcopies rather than online.
I need to go home. Go through Lindsay’s things…
Except…
I got rid of most of it. It was all too painful to look at.
What I didn’t get rid of I gave to her parents.
“Dr. Lansing…”
I jerk. “Yes, sorry.”
“We’re sorry to take you away from your work this morning,” Regina says. “Richard here”—she nods to her assistant, Richard Decker—“received an email this morning that’s a bit troubling.”
I lift my eyebrows. Shit. Angie wouldn’t—
“It seems there’s been an allegation of some misconduct with a student.”
I keep my expression impassive—or try to at least. “Oh?”
“Do you have any idea what we might be referring to?”
I blink. “I’m afraid I don’t.”
“You should know, Dr. Lansing,” Richard says, “that this allegation did not come from a student who is accusing you of anything.”
“I suppose that’s good.” Again, I keep my face impassive. “Whatever it is, I can assure you there’s no basis for any of it.”
“The email was anonymous,” Richard says. “It said only that you were seen kissing one of your students in your anatomy lab.”
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
So it’s not Angie.
But what if someone saw us?
God, did they see us fucking in the lab as well?
No. If that were the case, they would’ve led with it. That’s way bigger than a kiss.
Both Richard and Regina are looking at me.
Am I supposed to say something? Deny it?
I don’t like lying, but who the hell would send such an email?
“I’m not sure how you want me to respond,” I say. “I can assure you that nothing untoward has happened between me and any of my students.”
Not exactly a lie. Angie and I both wanted that kiss.
“We’re not here to accuse you of anything, Dr. Lansing,” Regina says.
“I responded to the email,” Richard says. “I asked for more details, but my response didn’t go through.”
“Then it sounds like this was no more than a prank,” I say.
“Probably,” Regina says, “but can you think of anyone who might want to make trouble for you?”
I don’t have any enemies here…other than the board regarding my experimental nerve surgery.
“No,” I answer truthfully.
“Any former colleagues?” Richard asks. “Former students? Present students?”
“No, not at all.” Again, I’m speaking the truth.
“Then I don’t see any reason to investigate this any further,” Regina says. “Title IX requires that we take all allegations seriously, but with no substantiation or even a valid source, there’s little we can do.”
“I appreciate your understanding.” The knot in my stomach begins to loosen. “If there’s anything I can do…”
“You’ve done enough already, Dr. Lansing.” Richard’s voice is dry and businesslike. “However, should the situation develop any further, it would be good if you kept us informed.”
“Of course.” I rise from my seat. “Thank you for your time.”
Once outside the HR office, I lean against the wall, my heart racing. I close my eyes, trying to make sense of today’s peculiar events. The anonymous email accusation is unsettling, but it pales in comparison to the truly disturbing mystery—Lindsay’s suicide note.
I return to my office, sit down at my desk, and open the bottom drawer where I keep things that have no other place. I can’t recall the last time I looked in there.
Damn. Right on top is an old picture of Lindsay and me at a medical conference—one of the few times she went with me. Julia stayed with Lindsay’s parents. It was the last trip Lindsay and I took together before…
Before the accident that claimed our daughter and my livelihood…and led to my wife’s suicide.
Except…
I sigh. Of course it was a suicide. I found her in the bathtub, her wrists slit…
But the note.
The note I never bothered to read until today…
As I stare at the photo, the discord of the morning grows louder in my head. What the hell is going on? An accusation from an anonymous source? Then Lindsay’s note, written by someone else?
She still could have taken her life, but this opens a huge can of worms.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and try to concentrate on what I need to do next. I look at the photo again. Lindsay’s smile sends an ache through my heart. Same as it always does.
There’s only one place I can go to find what I need. I pull out my cell phone and call Lindsay’s parents.
After a few rings, her mother picks up. “Jason?” she says, her tone full of surprise.
Can’t blame her. I rarely call them anymore. It’s too painful—for all of us.
“Lisa,” I say, my throat tight. “I need to ask you something.”
“Of course,” she says. “What is it?”
“Do you still have any of Lindsay’s things?”
A pause on the other end, followed by a soft sigh. “Yes, Jason. We still have some of her things here. I…couldn’t bear to let everything go.”
The sadness in her voice slices through me. I hate that I’m forcing her to relive the pain of losing her daughter.
I clear my throat. “Anything that has her handwriting on it? Something other than a signature?”
“Handwriting?” Lisa’s voice wavers. “I think we have some family recipes she wrote down. And maybe some old letters. But why do you want them now, Jason?”
I rub the back of my neck, trying to ease the aching tension. “I’m sorry, but it’s important. Could I possibly come by later to look at what you have?”
Silence then.
I can almost hear her thoughts.
Why is Jason interested in this stuff now? Why is he making me relive my biggest loss?
Finally, she exhales deeply. “Sure, Jason. Come by around six. We’ll have dinner ready as well if you’d like to join us.”
“That’s okay. You don’t have to bother.”
“It’s no bother. It will be nice”—she chokes a bit, as if holding back a sob—“to see you. You and Lindsay used to eat here so often.”
I sigh. This won’t be awkward at all. “Thank you. I’ll see you for dinner then.”
I end the call and place the phone face down on my desk as I let my gaze wander to the photo of Lindsay and me once more.
And then the note.
I stare at the handwriting—the slight slant to the right, the way the ink presses harder in places as if she trembled or hesitated.
I read the words again.
Jason, I’m sorry, but I can’t carry this weight any longer. Losing her shattered me in ways I can’t put into words. I’ve tried to be strong—for you, for us—but the pain is relentless, and I can’t see a way forward.
Please know this isn’t your fault. You gave me everything, but I’ve lost myself in the void she left behind. I hope you find peace someday, even if I couldn’t.
I’ll love you forever. See you on the other side, babe.
Lindsay
My eyes moisten, but I don’t cry.
I stopped crying long ago. I couldn’t cry for my dead wife, and the guilt still plagues me. I cried out all my tears for Julia.
In fact, what I felt was anger. Anger that she couldn’t bring herself to blame me outright, to give in to the rage she felt, to heal.
And anger at that damned psychiatrist, Dr. Morgan, who said she could help us. Said she could help Lindsay.
Oh, God…
If Lindsay didn’t take her own life…perhaps Dr. Morgan could have eventually helped her?
What am I doing? What do I hope to find? To prove?
Whatever the real story is, Lindsay is still dead. Our daughter is still dead.
I grip the edge of my desk, my knuckles white.
I was finally beginning to move on.
With the surgery.
With Angie.
But everything has changed.
I won’t let this lie.
I can’t.