“No, no. I need to do this now.”
“Please, be careful. Call me when you’re back in the house, so I know you’re safe.”
“Of course I’m safe,” she scoffed.
“Promise?”
“All right. Speak to you soon.” Ruth smiled in spite of herself, glad for his concern.
As she walked outside, Ruth was momentarily blinded by the bright summer sun. For the last few days, she had hardly moved from her desk and, at moments, she felt as if she lived in a dream devolving into a nightmare. How could it be that just a few weeks ago she was a happily married woman with a renowned doctor for a husband, and now, she was desperately trying to stop him as if he were a deranged killer?
She had checked to make sure that his car was still gone before she went outside, but as she walked toward the carriage house, she checked again. She couldn’t risk running into him. Not now. She was sweating from nerves as much as the heat as she slipped inside again and began to look around. Her eyes landed on several large piles of newer-looking files, stacked on the floor behind his desk. Could these be from his more recent road trips? He was so meticulous about his files, it would have been unusual for him to leave so many out—but Robert had been away so much, perhaps he hadn’t gotten everything properly put away.
Crouching on the floor, she examined the files. There were so many. She wondered, for a moment, if the sheer volume of them might be enough to make a case against him to the board. But she knew better. It hadn’t been enough for her. She had accepted his hundreds of lobotomies across the country as the gift to humanity he claimed them to be.
She began to open the files one by one, hoping to discover something, anything, that might help make her case. Most contained just a sheet of paper. Many didn’t even have a photo. After nearly an hour of searching, she was near tears of frustration, almost ready to give up, when she came upon something odd. This file contained a picture of a rough-looking man sitting on a bed in a dirty room in what appeared to be some sort of boardinghouse. Decidedly not a hospital or clinic or even office. She was about to read the few pages inside when a knock on the door made her breath catch in her chest. She closed the file as quickly as she could and stood. If it was Robert, maybe she could pretend she was tidying up the carriage house as a peace offering for his return? It was absurd, but she was too afraid to think straight.
As she made her way toward the door, she heard a woman’s voice.
“Dr. Apter? Hello? Are you in there?”
“Margaret?”
Chapter Forty-Four
Margaret had been waiting for Dr. Apter for more than twenty minutes and he still hadn’t come outside to get her. He was always incredibly punctual. She also noticed that the car she usually saw parked in front wasn’t there. Had she messed up the time? She started to panic. Could she have gotten the date wrong? No. She couldn’t have. She was having her lobotomy tomorrow, and Dr. Apter had asked her to come in today for her preop appointment. Where could he be? Could something have happened to him? What if something happened to him and he wasn’t able to perform the lobotomy?
She was counting on tomorrow.
Maybe he just got distracted by something, and maybe Ruth had taken his car. Yes, that must be it. She would go and knock on the door.
“Margaret?”
She was surprised to see Ruth standing before her in a wrinkled blouse, untucked from her slacks, her hair a mess, and her eyes red and rimmed with purplish circles. Something awful must have happened to Dr. Apter.
“Ruth. Are you all right? Is the doctor all right?” Ruth looked at her, confused. “I’m sorry—you just look . . . well . . . you don’t look yourself. And I was supposed to have an appointment with your husband twenty minutes ago, and he hasn’t come out to get me yet and I just—”
“Oh my, Margaret!” Ruth reached to smooth her hair as she stepped outside of the carriage house and shut the door. “I’m sorry, Robert isn’t here. Are you sure you had an appointment today? It isn’t Tuesday?”