"And are you satisfied by what you found?"

"I don't know what to make of it."

"It . . . or . . . her?" he asked.

"Both, if I can be honest with you, Dr. Brighton."

"For your sake - you better be." Dr. Brighton took a seat at the kitchen table and then nudged a chair for me with his foot.

"I need to ask you something," I said, as I took my seat. "I want Everly to come to my family's house in Montauk for the Fourth of July."

He shook his head. "Out of the question."

"Actually Sir, with all due respect, I haven't asked one yet."

"The names Everly and / or Montauk better not be part of it."

And this was where having an actress for a mother paid off. "You know my father Andrew, right?"

"Yes," he said coolly. "We worked together several years ago."

"Then you know he's an excellent doctor."

He took another long sip and I knew I was on to something. He was stalling. "With all due respect to you and your family, Callum, your father was an excellent doctor before he quit. I don't even believe he's licensed any longer."

"If you were dying and had to choose between a licensed doctor or my father, who would you pick? No wait - allow me to rephrase - if Everly was dying, who would you choose to save her life?"

He sat taller. "Why are you asking me this?"

"Because you and I both know that license is just a piece of paper, and my father is still one of the best doctors in the country. He has a drinking problem because he has a broken heart problem, but that doesn't make him any less brilliant than he's always been."

Tim leaned forward and the gloves came off. "If you have been discussing Everly's case with your father to form a diagnosis I will have to fail you. That is absolutely forbidden. He has privileged information." Timothy's face filled with regret as he soon as he slipped.

I stayed cool.

"Why would he know anything about her?" I asked as if he had just given me the answers Everly already had.

"Isn't that the point of your question? Lure me into thinking Andrew has come up with a miracle cure for my daughter so you can wiggle your way out of diagnosing her?"

"I didn't even know my father knew her until now. I was only trying to convince you that if Everly came to Montauk with us for the holiday she would be in great hands."

Timothy slammed his mug to the table, splashes of coffee landed on the walnut-colored wood. "Game over. You spoke the two words I forbid."

"Dr. Brighton . . . please. You have to see that Everly is not happy living this way. She's only doing it because she feels guilty about her mother dying-she thinks it's all her fault. She wants to make you happy."

"Does she?"

"But at the cost of her own happiness," I sighed, and then went for the jugular. "She told me that when you bought her Peter Pan as a child it made her sad because she believes her only joy will come after she dies. She doesn't even believe in the world she was born into. She doesn't think she has a place. I gave her a Bible just so she could see our Lord has a plan for her. I really want to help her find happiness before she dies. Maybe a weekend at the beach doesn't seem like much to you or I, but to Everly it's a dream come true."

He watched for a lie, but it would never come. "She told me it was her favorite book."

"I'm sure she did." Timothy sat in his chair. It was quiet for a long while, the way the sky goes silent right before it turns grey and all hell breaks loose.

"She also told me," I added, "that she needs my help to thwart your conservatorship."

His gaze turned darker. "And you think that's possible? You and your adorable three years of medical school?"

"I think making Everly believe it's possible is a more prudent choice. Her hope rests on the possibility of freedom, so allow her to believe it's being offered in order to keep her from taking more drastic, dangerous measures. I can and will keep her safe."

"You don't even know what she has." He argued.

"Everly knows. She doesn't have a death wish. She has a freedom wish. Give her an inch so she won't want a mile. Appeasement is your only friend now."

The Ocean Between the Waves Part Two Fear of Falling Everly once told me she loved New York because it was like a kaleidoscope-a maze full of pictures at every turn.