Dad pulls on his jacket. Watching him, I sense that he’s unnerved.
After everything that’s happened to Mom, followed by the vitriol on social media directed at our entire family, I feel the same. It’s as if theuniverse has it out for us. What’s next? I’m terrified to imagine. They say bad things happen in threes.
We walk out of Mom’s room, which feels hauntingly empty since they’ve rolled her hospital bed out and wheeled her to the surgery floor.
As we pass the nurses’ station and walk by a cleaner pushing a mop, I feel everyone’s eyes on us. I don’t think I’m paranoid. I suspect they have all been glued to their phones and are whispering about my father’s guilt or innocence.
Dad, Connor, and I walk uncomfortably in silence to the double doors out of the ICU, push through them, and find ourselves face-to-face with two men. One is over six feet tall with gray hair. The other looks younger. They’re dressed in black winter jackets, dress pants, and boots with white salt stains on the toes, but they flash badges before the ICU doors have a chance to swing shut behind us.
“Mr. Palmer,” the man with the gray hair says in a friendly voice, which calms me a little. But it’s not a question. They already know who Dad is. It doesn’t come as a surprise because Dad’s a bit of a celebrity in town. His restaurant has been featured in most of the local lifestyle magazines, and his image, in chef attire, tops the website’s home page.
“I’m Inspector Lawson, and this is Sergeant Major LaPierre. We’re with the Criminal Investigation Division of the RCMP. Sorry to bother you here ...” He looks me straight in the eye, then at Connor. “We know this is a difficult time for you all.” He returns his attention to Dad. “But we’re looking into what happened to your wife, and we’d like to ask you some questions.”
Dad is frozen on the spot, and his face has gone pale. He won’t speak.
It’s not a good look, so I nudge him. “Dad?”
He meets my gaze. I see fear in his eyes, but he quickly recovers. “I’ll answer any questions you have. But I hope this doesn’t have anything to do with what’s been posted on social media.”
Inspector Lawson inclines his head. “Well—”
Dad interrupts him. “It’s a bunch of nonsense because people are looking for dopamine hits from their phones. They don’t know anythingabout what happened yesterday. They weren’t there. They didn’t see the waves, and it’s pissing me off.”
LaPierre nods. “I understand, and we get it. We’ve seen this before. People can go crazy about crimes on the internet, which is why we want to talk to you—to eliminate any cause for suspicion. Then we can all get on with our lives.”
I let out a breath of relief, because deep down I don’t want to believe Dad pushed Mom off the rocks, and I don’t want him to go to jail. Sure, I’m angry with him about the situation, but like Sergeant Major LaPierre says, people can go crazy posting online. I don’t want to follow them down a rabbit hole.
“Would you come to the station with us?” LaPierre asks. “Your children can remain here. We’ll bring you back afterward.”
Dad frowns. “You can’t talk to me here? Now?”
“It’s best if we do it at the station. We just need to make sure we get everything down.”
I’m not exactly sure what he means bydown, and the whole situation is making my stomach turn somersaults. What if they believe everything they’re reading online? What if they already think he’s guilty, that he took Mom to Peggy’s Cove to murder her for her money?
Dad turns to me and Connor. “I might as well go with them and get it over with. You guys stay here and wait for Mom to get out of surgery. Becky’s supposed to come by, right?”
I quickly nod. “Yes. She was going to take some chili to our house this morning. I’ll text her.”
The officers start walking, and Dad winks at me as he goes. He wants to reassure us, but I’m not entirely reassured. In this moment, both my parents have just been taken away. One has been wheeled to an operating room to have brain surgery, while the other will be questioned for attempted murder.
Emotionally, I’m paralyzed. But I need to keep it together for Connor, who is looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to take the lead.
“Let’s get some food,” I say, trying to make light of what just happened.
Wordlessly, he follows me to the elevator.
Connor and I have just finished grilled cheese sandwiches and fries when I receive a text from Becky.
I just arrived at the hospital. Is your mom still in surgery?
I thumb a reply:Yes. We’re in the cafeteria waiting. No word from Dad yet.
I’m just getting out of my car. Stay put. I’ll find you.
I respond with an “okay” emoji.
Becky enters the cafeteria, and I’m relieved to see her face. I get up from the booth and meet her halfway, where we hug. Then I start to cry again. She holds me tight and doesn’t let go.
