All My Darkest Impulses (House of Crows) by Lisa Unger (books for men to read .txt) 📕

began. The room was overwarm. Outside, trees swayed. The sky looked to be darkening.

They’ll never understand what happened. Not really, Archie whispered.

“Dr. Allen rose,” Billy said. Claire snapped back at the mention of her name. “And walked around her desk. She seemed to be looking at the painting that was hanging behind Winston Grann.”

“What were you doing, Dr. Allen?” asked Dr. Shaw. His wire-rimmed glasses reflected the sun coming in the window.

“The painting—it looked odd,” she said. “I was drawn to it.”

She hated how wobbly she sounded, how unsatisfactory was her statement. It earned some frowns around the table.

“Odd how?” Dr. Shaw pressed.

“Can we keep the questioning to the matter at hand?” asked Martin.

Shaw gave a terse nod. “Go on, Mr. Jenkins.”

“And as Dr. Allen passed by Winston Grann, his restraints fell away, and he attacked the doctor.”

“His restraints fell away.”

“He apparently had a small piece of metal in his mouth, which he used to pick the locks.”

“While you and Dr. Allen were both present in the room?”

“Apparently,” said Billy, looking down at his hands. It was hard to understand how any of it had happened. Claire noticed that Billy had bitten his nails to the quick. Anxiety. He had a wife and a young son. He couldn’t afford to lose his job, or have the taint of wrongdoing prevent him from getting another one. She had to help him.

“What happened next?” asked Shaw.

“When I was unable to pull Grann off of Dr. Allen—”

“You were unable to pull him off. Mr. Jenkins, you’re six foot four and weigh in at”—Shaw looked down at his notes, pushed up his glasses—“two hundred and twenty pounds. Mr. Grann was under five foot five, weighed one hundred and thirty pounds, and led a mostly sedentary life.”

Billy nodded, rubbed at the crown of his head. “That’s right. But he was, like, locked on to her. I couldn’t pull him away. And there was so much blood. It was . . . slippery.”

“So what did you do?”

“I used my club and I hit him in the head, hoping he would lose consciousness. Which he did.”

“And his life. He lost his life.”

Billy nodded, stricken. “I had to save Dr. Allen. He was killing her. That’s what I was thinking, that I just had to get him to let go of her.”

There was more back-and-forth between the lawyers and Shaw. But Archie was laughing, so it was hard to concentrate.

“Dr. Allen, you’ve given a statement about the attack, which we have here. You’ve stated that you don’t remember what happened.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t. But I have no doubt that Billy Jenkins acted in my defense and only used the force that was necessary to save my life. I’ve known him for five years, and his actions with patients have always been exemplary.”

“And what about your actions?” asked Billy’s lawyer.

“Dr. Allen’s behavior is not at question here,” said Martin quickly.

“But she violated the hospital policy to stay as far away from Grann as possible. By walking around the desk, she instigated a violent criminal, and caused my client to use deadly force to save her life.”

“This is not what we’re here to discuss,” said Martin.

“A patient is dead, and my client could lose his job because Dr. Allen wanted to look at a painting.”

“I take full responsibility,” Claire said. She would gladly take any punishment if it meant that Billy would be cleared of wrongdoing.

“Claire,” said Martin, putting a hand on her arm.

“Truly,” she said. She felt calm and focused, alert for the first time in a while. “It was my fault. I can’t explain what happened in that room. But I know Billy only acted to protect me. He should be commended, not reprimanded. I was the one who breached protocol, got distracted. Working with Winston Grann was a strain; maybe I wasn’t coping as well as I thought.”

“My client has been through a lot,” said Martin, his hand still resting on her arm. “Let’s take a break.”

“That’s not necessary,” said Shaw with an officious nod. “We have all we need for Mr. Jenkins’s review. We’ll be in touch about Dr. Allen’s.”

“What were you thinking, Claire?” asked Martin outside. Will stood behind her, a bolstering hand on her shoulder.

“I was thinking about Billy. He doesn’t deserve this.”

“Neither do you,” Martin said. He had a kind face, warm eyes—not very lawyerly. He was more fatherly, which was why she liked him. She never knew her own father, but if she had, she’d want him to look at her just like that. “If they question your behavior, you could be in danger of losing your license to practice.”

“That figures. I’m viciously attacked by a convicted serial killer, nearly killed, and I, and the man who defended me, are the ones in trouble.”

Will put an arm around her, and she fought the urge to push him away; he crowded her. That was one of the things that had bothered her most. He hovered. She was cold, withholding—that was his complaint during their marriage. You’re always shutting me out.

“It’s not fair; you’re right,” said Martin. “And if you cooperate with me, I can get you through this, and you’ll be back with your patients when you’re well.” He always sounded so sure of himself. His suits were impeccable and his cologne smelled like money.

It doesn’t matter, whispered Archie. You’re done with all of this.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Claire. Her own voice sounded distant and far away.

Will and Martin exchanged a look of concern, which she pretended not to notice.

“Let’s get you home,” said Will.

“I’ll make some calls and we’ll regroup tomorrow, okay, Claire?” Martin’s voice had taken on the softness people use with children and the mentally ill.

“Yes, of course.”

Back at her house, Will made some tea and brought it to her where she sat on the window seat in the living room. They’d bought this house together when they were just married, in love. Although, maybe she’d never really loved him. Not as she should. He was