Chapter Fourteen. Elizabeth reacted exactly how Colby expected her to if she ever found out

Elizabeth reacted exactly how Colby expected her to if she ever found out. Her mouth was open, an incredulous look on her face. “What did you say? ” she asked.

That night seemed like it was last night, not three years ago. With a voice devoid of emotion, Colby told Elizabeth the story.

The first five days in March three years ago had been brutal for her. Baby Justin Hanover had been in such a hurry to join the human race that he was born at twenty-five weeks instead of the normal forty. Like all premature infants he had a multitude of medical issues for her to deal with.

Colby was the best pediatric surgeon in the U.S. and often consulted on critically ill children. Many times she would fly across the country to see a child, then turn around and return to her own thriving practice in a Seattle suburb.

But Justin was her patient this time. His internal organs weren’t ready to function on their own and his lungs were critically underdeveloped. He was anemic and jaundiced, and needed a ventilator to help him breathe. The main blood vessel leaving the heart that supplied blood to his lungs had a hole in it, and he was scheduled for surgery the next morning. Colby had practically lived in the neonatal intensive-care unit the eight days of the baby’s life and had finally stepped away long enough to go home, grab a few hours of sleep, and be back in the morning for his surgery.

Her house was dark when she pulled into the driveway and opened the garage door. She lived in Grant, just outside Seattle. She had wanted to live closer to the city and the hospital but Gretchen had insisted, and at the time Colby was still too much in love to deny her anything. As she got out of the car her cell phone rang. She answered without looking at the caller ID, thinking it was the hospital. “Dr. Taylor.”

“Dr. Colby Taylor? ”

“Yes.” She didn’t recognize the voice on the other end of the phone but didn’t think twice. It was probably a new nurse.

“Dr. Taylor, I’m with the Seattle Police Department. Do you know a Gretchen Thomas? ”

Colby’s pulse raced, not out of concern but out of anger. “Yes. What’s she done now? ” she asked.

“Doctor, we’d like you to come down here. We have a problem concerning Ms. Thomas and she’s asking for you.”

“If she’s drunk somewhere tell her to call a cab. I’ve got better things to do than go across town and bail her ass out.” It wouldn’t be the first time Gretchen had done something stupid to draw the attention of the police, and certainly not the second or even the third time she’d tied one on and found herself stuck in the middle of nowhere with no car. The last time she didn’t even know where she was when she called. Hopefully she wouldn’t get behind the wheel.

“I’m afraid it’s more than that, ma’am.”

Colby felt old when the officer called her “ma’am.” His voice even sounded like he was fifteen. She was exhausted and furious. “What is it exactly? ”

The young officer hesitated. “She’s…uh…”

“For Christ’s sake, just say it. I don’t have all night.”

“She’s on the I-90 bridge, ma’am.”

“I repeat, tell her to call a cab.” Colby slammed the car door and jabbed at the numbers on the security key pad on the wall just inside the laundry room.

“Ma’am, she’s threatening to jump.”

Colby stopped. Gretchen had flippantly threatened to kill herself a number of times, but this one was new. She had never got anywhere close to doing something so stupid and selfish until now. “What? ”

“She’s threatening to jump. The crisis negotiator has been talking to her for a couple of hours, but she won’t get down. She asked for you an hour ago. We need you here, Dr. Taylor.”

“Shit, shit, shit, ” Colby shouted into the darkened kitchen. She always turned her cell phone off while she was in the NICU and had only remembered to turn it back on when she pulled into the driveway.

“Are you sure? She’s threatened to do this before and it’s always been bullshit manipulation.” Colby knew she sounded insensitive, but she was sleep-deprived and tired of Gretchen’s ploys for attention.

“Ma’am, ” the officer said.

“Stop calling me ma’am, ” Colby shouted into the receiver.

“Dr. Taylor, we wouldn’t be calling you if it wasn’t serious. The crisis counselor really thinks she’ll jump and asked me to call you. I can send a patrol car to come pick you up—”

“I don’t need a goddamn ride. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” She snapped her phone shut and stormed back out of the house. Eight minutes later the phone rang again. She assumed it was the police.

“So help me, Gretchen, if this is another false alarm, I’ll personally throw your sorry ass off the fucking bridge.”

It wasn’t. Colby had pulled out everything in her arsenal to save Justin Hanson, but two blocks from the bridge she learned that he had died.

Exhausted from fighting for Justin’s life and enduring Gretchen’s increasingly neurotic, manipulative behavior, she stormed across the bridge. The officer who had stopped her had verified her identity and sent her in this direction. She was filled with rage. Rage at Gretchen, rage at God for letting that sweet little baby boy die, and rage at whoever got in her way. She brushed away the tears on her cheeks before she jumped out of her car, and her face was dry as she approached the police van.

It was drizzling again and the temperature had dropped at least ten degrees. The puddles of rainwater reflected the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles, making it seem like more of Seattle’s finest were at this scene than actually were. She stepped in a puddle and cursed.

“I’m Colby Taylor, ” she said through gritted teeth. A police radio crackled, a fog horn blasted in the distance.

The crisis negotiator introduced himself, briefed her on the current situation, and after what felt like forever led Colby to Gretchen, who was standing on the top of the rail that separated the pedestrian walkway from the edge of the bridge. Her left hand was holding one of the support cables, her back to the asphalt lanes now emptied of traffic.

“Gretchen, ” Colby spat. She had to repeat her name before she turned around. Colby was about ten feet away and couldn’t tell if Gretchen was crying or if rain slid down her cheeks. Her hair was plastered to her head and her eyes held that same wild look they did every time they fought.

“I’m surprised you came.” Gretchen’s voice was full of hatred.

“Gretchen, what in the hell are you doing? ” The crisis counselor had told her to talk to Gretchen in calm, soothing tones and to say whatever she needed to get her off her perch. Fuck it. She was tired of coddling her.

“Why are you here? You don’t love me anymore.”

Here we go again, Colby thought. Gretchen had been pulling this crap for months. Her schedule was demanding, and more often than not she was at the hospital when Gretchen thought she should be home. Gretchen was an expert on passive-aggressive behavior and was equally adept at getting what she wanted through manipulation. When that behavior was no longer effective she had begun threatening to hurt herself if Colby didn’t come home, go to a party, or whatever other inconsequential, stupid thing she wanted her to do.

They argued constantly, Gretchen demanding more of Colby’s time and attention. They had been partners almost eight years, and Gretchen had known her career was demanding when they got together. Why now, after all these years, was it a problem? And tonight of all nights she had to pull this crap.

“Gretchen, we’ve had this discussion more than once, now get down from there.”

“I swear I’ll jump. I’m not coming down unless you promise to spend more time with me.” She stuck out her bottom lip like a petulant child. That behavior always infuriated Colby.

“Gretchen.” Colby shook her head. “This is un-fucking-believable. It’s three in the goddamn morning, and the baby I spent the last week trying to save, a baby who fought so hard for life, is dead. I can’t believe you have the nerve to stand up there and threaten to jump because I’m not giving you enough attention.”

Gretchen looked right through her.

“I’m tired of your empty threats, Gretchen. Get down.” Colby heard the intake of breath from the crisis negotiator. She felt him move closer and ignored him.

“Or what? You’re gonna run off and hide in your little hospital again where you’re such a big shot, Doctor? ” Her sneer was clearly visible.

That was the last straw. She devoted the majority of her life working to save those too small and weak to save themselves, the complete innocents of the world. And this was what she got in return? She should have a lover who would take her in her arms after a case like this, no questions asked, no rebuke for the lack of time they spent together. Who would hold her, comfort her, love her. When did Gretchen become so selfish? When did she herself stop caring?

“Either get your ass down or jump off the fucking bridge. I don’t care which.”

What happened next was the script of her nightmares. Gretchen had held Colby’s gaze, leaned back, and let go.

“There was an inquest. The coroner ruled her death a suicide, ” Colby said at the end of her story.

“Colby.” Elizabeth sat beside her and laid her hand on Colby’s forearm. Colby stiffened under her touch, then jerked her arm away.

“Don’t, Elizabeth.” Colby put one hand up, palm facing Elizabeth to emphasize her point. “I don’t want your pity, your sympathy, or your absolution. I killed Gretchen just the same as if I had pushed her off that bridge.” God, she was tired.

“That wasn’t what I intended to say.”

Colby practically jumped off the couch. “Don’t psychoanalyze me, Elizabeth. I’m a doctor. I know what’s going on, and don’t even try to bullshit me. That’s exactly what you intended to say and I don’t want to hear it.” Colby turned away, not wanting to see the look of undeserved pity in her eyes—or worse.

“Just because we’ve been sleeping together doesn’t mean you can read my mind, ” Elizabeth shot back. “Do you think so little of me that you can lie to me about something like this? ”

“I didn’t lie to you.”

“Really? You led me to believe you were nothing more than a surf instructor.” Elizabeth was on her feet pacing now.

“I didn’t lead you to believe anything.” Colby knew she was quibbling.

“Then what exactly would you call it? Lying by omission? ” Elizabeth stopped and gazed at Colby with an expression of dawning understanding. “Did you think I wouldn’t want anything to do with you if I knew? ”

Colby dropped her hand. “That has nothing to do with it.” Her anger was returning.

“Then what does it have to do with? ”

Colby was on the verge of collapse. She hadn’t slept last night, and the adrenaline that had kept her going these last few hours was depleted. She could barely remember to breathe, and the last remnants of the control she had so painstakingly maintained slid away. “I don’t deserve it, ” she said, surprising herself.

“You don’t deserve what? ”

“Anything, anybody.” Colby stood in front of the couch but didn’t sit down. “I killed her just the same as if I’d pushed her.” She held up her hand again, silencing Elizabeth. “I told Gretchen to jump. I killed her, ” she repeated. “Why should I be entitled to anything? Gretchen is dead. A wonderful, loving woman is gone. Her parents were devastated, her sister had a miscarriage, and I can’t sleep at night because of what I did. What I did.”

Colby jabbed her own finger into her chest, emphasizing each word. “So don’t you dare tell me what I can or cannot have. What I can think or feel. I am responsible for the death of another human being. I took the Hippocratic Oath to protect and preserve life. And because I was tired, ” Colby choked, “God help me, I abandoned it because I was tired.” Her head ached, her eyes were dry. She had cried so much the first few months after Gretchen’s death she didn’t have any tears left. She turned her back on Elizabeth, not wanting to see the disgust she knew was there.

“So you think you deserve to be punished for the rest of your life because of a stupid decision somebody else made? ”

Elizabeth’s voice was soft, but her question was anything but.

How was she supposed to answer that? She was responsible for Gretchen’s death. She had to live with that fact every single day and take it to bed with her every night. She stood, her legs weak as she headed for the front door. Then she turned around and looked into sad eyes.

“Yes, Elizabeth I do. And nothing you or anyone else can say will convince me otherwise.” She stepped across the threshold and closed the door behind her.