“I told her that another doctor was going to stop in.” Mara stood and folded her arms across her chest as if chilly. “I thought that maybe you could explain what it is you do.”

“Of course,” I said and followed Mara from the family room, past the nurses’ desk and across the hall to Cora’s room. Mara pushed open the door to reveal a darkened room, lights off, shades closed. The only light came from a muted television set that hung from the wall. A teenage girl sat in the corner.

In the bed was a diminutive, still shape. “Cora, honey,” Mara said, leaning over her. “Are you awake?”

If Cora gave a response, I didn’t hear it.

“The doctor I told you about is here. I’m going to let some light in here so the two of you can talk, okay?” Mara went to the window and adjusted the shades so that the morning sun filtered through the slats, giving the room a hazy glow.

The left side of Cora’s head was shaved and dozens of stitches punctuated her skull. A heavy bandage covered her left eye and cheek and the skin that was exposed was eggplant purple. Stitches crisscrossed her swollen lips and her left arm was encased in a purple fiberglass cast. It was impossible to know what Cora looked like before the attack. Her features were so distorted that I wondered how the police were able to identify who she was. Perhaps it was the other girl at the scene who gave the emergency workers Cora’s name.

“Hello there, Cora.” I approached her bedside slowly so as not to startle her. The last thing Cora needed was another stranger converging on her. I came to her right side and positioned myself so that she could see me. “I’m Dr. Gideon.” Cora’s eye, sky blue but dulled by painkillers, blinked languidly up at me.

“I know you’ve met a lot of doctors since you’ve been here but I’m a different kind of doctor. I’m not here to look at your arm or your other injuries. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of people poking at you, am I right?” Cora gave me a shy nod. “I’m the kind of doctor who listens.”

“A shrink,” the girl sitting in the corner said.

“That’s right.” I smiled.

“Kendall, that’s not polite,” Mara scolded. “This is Cora’s sister, she’s fifteen,” she said as if that explained it all.

I wondered where Mr. Landry was. Had he stepped out for a bit? It was a Tuesday; perhaps he wasn’t able to get away from work. I made a mental note to look through the paperwork to find out what Jim Landry did for a living.