Chapter 11: The Last Conversation
Richard Hale's attorney contacted Grace on a Thursday morning with a formal request.
Richard wanted one conversation with Emily.
In person.
No recording.
No attorneys present.
He was not offering a settlement.
He was not making a threat.
He simply wanted to speak to her before the formal proceedings began.
Grace advised against it.
Emily went anyway.
She chose the location.
A public library two towns from Richard's home.
A reading room with glass walls and a librarian's desk visible from every angle.
She arrived fifteen minutes early and chose a table near the center.
Richard arrived exactly on time.
He looked smaller than he had in the garden.
Or perhaps it was just that the garden had been his territory and this was not.
He sat down across from her without being invited.
For a moment he said nothing.
He looked at her the way someone looks at a sum they have been trying to balance for a long time.
"I want to explain something," he said.
"All right," Emily said.
"What happened in 1994 was not—" He stopped.
Started again.
"My father ran the facility.
Not me.
I was twenty-two.
I had just come into the family business.
I didn't design the arrangement with the Whitmore firm.
I didn't approach your mother.
I didn't choose you."
"But you signed the form," Emily said.
"My father told me it was a standard authorization.
That your mother had requested it.
That you needed care."
"And you believed him."
"I was twenty-two," he said again.
"I was seventeen," Emily said.
"And I had no one to sign anything on my behalf."
Richard was quiet.
"When did you find out the truth?" Emily asked.
He looked at the table.
"1998.
When you were discharged.
I reviewed the file because I was taking over more of the administration.
I saw the original diagnosis.
I saw Mercer's amendments." He paused.
"I saw that the diagnosis had been changed three times to justify keeping you there."
"And what did you do?"
He didn't answer immediately.
"You did nothing," Emily said.
"I closed the facility," he said.
"In 2001.
I used the investigation as the mechanism, but I initiated the contact with the oversight board.
I made sure Mercer lost his license."
"You protected yourself," Emily said.
"You closed it before it could be traced back to you.
You made sure Mercer was the face of it."
"I also made sure it stopped."
"You made sure you survived it," Emily said.
"And then you built a foundation with your name on it and put it in the mental health space, which meant anyone who came looking would find a philanthropist, not a man with something to hide."
Richard looked at her.
"That's not entirely fair," he said.
"Then tell me what's fair," Emily said.
"Tell me what the fair version of this is."
He was quiet for a long time.
"I can't," he said finally.
"No," Emily said.
"You can't."
She put both hands flat on the table.
"Here is what is going to happen," she said.
"The files are being released.
Patricia Vane has already given a statement.
Diana has given a full statement.
Carol's recording is in the court record.
Grace is filing a formal complaint with the state medical board regarding Mercer's conduct, which will be entered into the public record even though he is already delicensed.
The foundation will be independently reviewed, and if any current placement was made through a process that mirrors what was done to me, those placements will be investigated."
Richard's hands were on the table too.
He didn't move them.
"I am not doing this to destroy you," Emily said.
"I am doing this because there may be other people who went through what I went through and never found a way to say so.
And I will not sign anything that makes it harder for them to speak."
"I understand," Richard said.
"Do you?"
He looked at her.
Something in his face had changed — not broken, but altered.
The way a wall looks after the plaster has been stripped.
"I have regretted it," he said.
"Every year.
I want you to know that."
"I believe you," Emily said.
"But regret is private.
What comes next is public.
And that's the difference."
She stood up.
Richard stayed seated.
"Emily." His voice was quieter than she had ever heard it.
"I'm sorry.
I know that's not sufficient.
But I am."
Emily looked at him for a moment.
"I know you are," she said.
"It still doesn't change what I'm going to do."
She walked out of the reading room.
Through the glass walls she could see Richard still sitting at the table, both hands flat, looking at the space where she had been.
She didn't look back.
Outside, Daniel was waiting by the car.
He had not come in.
She had asked him not to.
"How was it?" he asked.
"He apologized," Emily said.
"Do you believe him?"
Emily thought about it honestly.
"Yes," she said.
"I think he means it." She opened the car door.
"It doesn't matter."
Daniel nodded.
May you like
He got in on his side.
They drove home without the radio on.
