I nod in agreement. I’m hoping Gloria Lane is just some ordinary patient. But my gut is saying that Sheila is right—she’s no dummy.
When I open the door, there is a woman sitting in one of the chairs, wearing jeans and a sweater. She hasn’t made any sort of attempt to put on the gown we provided for her, which is a red flag in itself.
What isn’t a red flag is how she looks. She does not look like a reporter who’s here for information. Her hair is gray and disheveled. She has dark purple circles under her eyes. She looks a decade older than her reported age.
“Dr. Davis?” she says.
“Yes.” I frown at her. I want to smile, but it’s hard given how she looks. “Mrs. Lane?”
She lifts her bloodshot eyes. “Actually,” she says, “it’s Mrs. Swanson. I’m Amber Swanson’s mother.”
“Oh…” Dammit, Sheila was right. “Mrs. Swanson, I’m so sorry for your loss.”
She sneers at me. “Yes, I’m sure you are.”
My mouth feels dry and it’s suddenly hard to swallow. “Of course I am.”
“Drop the act.” She glares at me and my stomach sinks into my shoes. “I know who you are, Nora Nierling.”
At the sound of my name, I do the only thing I can do. I close the door to the examining room, so nobody else can hear us.
Chapter 24
Amber’s mother knows who I am. This isn’t good.
She’s glaring at me with blue eyes the same color as Amber’s were. She’s about the right age to have been one of my father’s victims way back when. It’s all a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“Mrs. Swanson,” I say in a low voice, so nobody outside will overhear. “I just want you to know that I had absolutely nothing to do with your daughter’s death. I don’t know what you’ve heard, but—”
“You don’t think this seems like a big coincidence?” She rises to her feet, her eyes still locked with mine. “Your father killed all those women and chopped off their hands. Now all a sudden two of your patients end up the same way.”
“I don’t know whether or not it was a coincidence,” I concede. “But I didn’t do it. Mrs. Swanson, I could never do something like that.”
“I’m sure.”
“Mrs. Swanson.” I try to use my most kind and gentlevoice. “I’m sure you know that I saved your daughter’s life. Her appendix would’ve ruptured if I hadn’t done surgery on her. That’s what I do—save people. I would never kill anyone.”
Mrs. Swanson takes a step toward me. “Bullshit. I don’t believe a word you’re saying.”
Bullshit? I did save her daughter’s life. That’s afact—whether she believes it or not.
“Listen to me,Nora Nierling,” she hisses at me. “You obviously know something you’re not telling the police.”
“No, I don’t,” I insist. But I hesitate just for a split second, thinking of the letter on my kitchen floor from my father. And of course, she notices.
“You do!” Her eyes fill with angry tears. “What do you know? What do you know about what happened to my daughter?”
“Nothing.” I do an admirable job of keeping my voice from shaking. “I swear to you, Mrs. Swanson…”
“Liar.” She picks up a basin on the counter in the examining room and hurls it to the ground. The sound is loud enough to make me jump. “Did you kill her?”
“No!”
How could she possibly think that? Yes, my father was a monster. And I’m his daughter. We do share the same blood, but that doesn’t mean I’m a murderer like he is. How could she accuse me of that? I saved her daughter’s life, for God’s sake.
“I just want you to know,” she says in a trembling voice, “that after I leave here, I’m going straight to the reporters. I’m going to tell them all about you.”
My stomach sinks. This is the last thing I wanted to hear. For the last twenty-six years, I’ve been running away from being Nora Nierling. Nobody had any idea who I was, and I wanted to keep it that way. What will I do if the whole world discovers who Nora Davis is? I can’t change my name again. My medical license is under Davis.
