Laura remained standing.
“This appointment is for her.
You cannot hold me here.”
“I have not said anyone is being held.
I have asked you to sit while I assess a potential vulnerable-adult safety issue.”
The clinical calm in his voice affected Laura more than shouting would have.
She lowered herself into the chair.
Dr.
Patel asked Mom whether she felt safe at home.
“No.”
“Has anyone prevented you from leaving a room?”
“Yes.”
“Has anyone taken your phone or restricted your access to water, food, medication, or money?”
“Yes.”
Laura shook her head after every answer.
“She is lying.
This is exactly what I warned you about.”
Dr.
Patel did not look at her.
“Mrs.
Mercer, may I examine your wrists?”
Mom pushed back her sleeves.
The marks were clearer beneath the fluorescent lights: narrow red bands fading into yellow bruises.
Dr.
Patel’s expression changed, not dramatically, but enough.
“How did these happen?”
Mom looked at Laura.
For the first time since I had found her, fear replaced anger in her face.
Laura saw it too.
“She grabs things,” Laura said quickly.
“I had to stop her from hurting herself.”
Mom’s voice dropped.
“She tied my wrists with the straps from Daniel’s old duffel bag.”
The room went still.
I had left that duffel in the hall closet before deployment.
One strap had been missing when I unpacked the night before.
I had noticed it, photographed the remaining bag, and included the image in the file.
Dr.
Patel turned another page.
The missing strap was listed in my evidence summary.
Laura’s eyes moved across his face as she realized I had anticipated the denial.
“She was trying to leave,” Laura said.
“She was irrational.
She could have walked into traffic.”
“I was trying to reach Mrs.
Calder’s house,” Mom replied.
“It is forty feet from our driveway.”
“Why?”
“To call the bank.”
Laura snapped, “Because she was obsessed with money.”
Mom’s stare hardened.
“Because I discovered an $80,000 transfer request.”
Dr.
Patel asked Laura whether she had access to Mom’s accounts.
“I helped with bills.”
“Did Mrs.
