“I know.” Kate nodded. “I was thinking of that. It still feels pretty rough to consider that Agnew wouldn’t know exactly who and what Robin was.”
“Oh,” Lilliana explained, “it doesn’t mean he doesn’t know. It’s just, in a relationship like that, you put up blinders, so you can continue to live but without having to deal with unintentional side effects of the bad relationship. So you block it off. You push down your feelings, and you don’t allow yourself to think about it. You convince yourself that it’s all just fine, perfectly normal, and you just don’t worry about it.” Lilliana shrugged. “When you go back and see him this afternoon, think about it and see which way he is going. It could be either or a little of both.”
Kate nodded. “I’ll do that.”
And, in fact, as she walked back into the hospital and down the hallway to his room, that’s exactly what was on her mind. As she turned the corner to walk into his room, he was sitting up, staring out the window, a tic working his jaw, looking pissed off. She tapped on the open door.
He looked over, saw her, and immediately a frown crossed his face.
“I know,” she admitted. “I’m a pain in the ass until I solve this case. Sorry, but I just wanted to come back and see if you had any other impressions over what happened.”
He looked at her in surprise. “What do you mean,what happened?”
She shrugged. “Like if you wanted to clarify what happened to you last night.”
He stared down at the bandages on his wrist. “Apparently I’ve signed up for a lot of shrink visits right now.”
“Standard policy for anybody who tries to commit suicide,” she shared apologetically.
He nodded. “Still, I guess it is what it is.”
“It is, unless you didn’t do it,” she stated, just tossing that out there.
He stared at her for a long moment and shook his head. “I was the only one there.”
“Good enough.” She realized it wasn’t exactly an admission of guilt.
“Have you found out any more about my wife’s murder?”
“Unfortunately not yet,” she confirmed quietly. “Are you always there at the house early in the morning?”
He nodded. “Yes, my kids don’t leave for school until eight. Then I usually walk with them.”
“Do you ever go out running?”
“No, I used to run all the time, but then I ended up with a tendon injury and messed up ankles, and I can’t run anymore.”
“Ah, shit, I’m sorry about that,” she said sympathetically because, in truth, a tendon injury was damn painful and could have even really hindered his ability to walk again.
“It took me a long time to get past it,” he shared. “I really loved running.”
“Sounds like that was a bond between you and your wife.”
“Yeah, we used to run all the time,” he said, with a gentle smile. “It was a lot of fun.”
She noted his change in tone, like this was long ago. She smiled. “I’m happy for you. At least you had those years.”
He looked down at his legs. “I had those years, until I got injured, and then I couldn’t run anymore.”
“What happened?”
“Oh, it was just a stupid thing,” he explained, “a trip on the trail, and I ended up going down part of a cliff and getting more of an injury than I expected. Just one of those freak accidents.”
“Were you alone?”
“No, I was with my wife and several other runners. We belonged to a club,” he added. “It was really heartbreaking atthe time. We didn’t know how bad it would be until I got to the hospital, and that’s when they gave me the news.” His smile was grim. “But, as you can see, I’ve healed and am much better now. And I’m fully capable of at least walking and carrying on my duties, as need be.”
“Good. I’m glad it’s not part of the reason for the suicide attempt.”