She scribbled a few more notes, then rose to leave, and Hathorne rose with her.
“Again, Doctor, thanks for your time.”
“I was happy to oblige. I have enjoyed your company, Aideen Bradigan,” he said, his eyes narrowing, and for a fleeting moment Aideen felt some queasy fear rush back at just the idea of this man knowing her full name. “You shook my hand when you came in. It’s a simple gesture, but you might not understand how powerful it is for a man like me to be treated like a human being by another.”
“I’m glad for that.”
“You also didn’t make it a point to tell me you got the Hamlet reference. But I know you did.” The corners of Hathorne’s mouth turned upward, and there seemed to be a gleam in his eye.
“Good day, Doctor.”
CHAPTER 48
6 Iroquois Way
Yorktown Heights, New York
11:31 p.m.
Aideen’s oldest child, Máiréad, walked into the master bedroom and sat down glumly on the end of the bed. Aideen was on her laptop under the covers, even though it was still hot and the AC was roaring. She was exhausted from her trip to St. Lawrence, but her mind was racing after meeting Aaron Hathorne. Around her was the case paperwork and her notes.
“Knock much?” Aideen said, frowning. She removed her reading glasses and set her laptop down.
“Sorry,” Máiréad said. She was fourteen and the physical picture of her father, dead now a little less than a year. Unlike Aideen, Máiréad was thin, tall, and dark complected, with deep brown eyes. Next to her, in a ball at Aideen’s feet, was their mutt, Finster. “I can’t sleep.”
“Try harder.”
“What are you working on?” She reached over to rub Finster’s belly, and his tail thumped against the comforter.
“New case.”
“But . . . you’re, like, not working I thought. Is this why you were gone all day?”
“Yes. I am working again. I’m a defense attorney this time, though.”
“Huh? What kind of case?”
“It’s a murder case, actually.” She gave her daughter an abbreviated version, hopefully suitable for her age, but that was getting very hard to gauge anymore with teenagers. Máiréad seemed to be listening closely, more closely than she usually listened to her mother.
“So you know the guy?”
“We worked together.”
“Did Dad know him?”
“Yep.”
“Did Dad like him?”
“Yeah, he did.”
“Well, I mean . . . this case. Did he do it?”
“I don’t think so. The evidence against him is really strong, though.”
“Huh,” Máiréad said, this time not a question. Now she scooted up and sat cross-legged next to her mom, looking over the notes.
“Hey, that’s confidential.”
“Let me help.”
“Mair, you’re a freshman in high school. You’re very smart, but you can’t help with this.” There was some back and forth, but eventually Aideen gave up, and in fifteen minutes she was going over the facts with her daughter and discussing next steps. Part of it was that she was too tired to object, and Máiréad was stubborn. The other part was that Máiréad was grieving in a different and, in some ways, deeper fashion than her younger brothers. Aideen had been worried about it. The fact that Máiréad seemed interested in something, while appearing positive and focused to boot, was a bit of a relief.
“So, like, his DNA was found on these women?”
“That’s what it looks like,” Aideen said. “I don’t have the reports yet.”
“And your guy—your client, I mean—doesn’t know where he was on these nights? No one can help him with that?”
“Not so far.”
“Because he was really drunk.”
“Yep.”
“Whoa,” Máiréad said. “That’s bad.”
“I know.”
“And you still don’t think he did it?”
Aideen sighed. “I don’t have a crystal ball, hon. I can’t say for sure. I think I’ll have a better understanding once I see the scientific reports. Maybe we’ll get lucky and an alibi will come up.”
“An alibi?”
“Meaning a place where he was when these crimes happened. If we can show that he was somewhere else—”
“Gotcha. Just seems weird he can’t remember anything.”