“From what I’ve seen, the people who have the last contacts with a suicide victim beat themselves up, regardless of their closeness.” Cohen took a sip of his wine. “I have a friend on the force who works on the crisis-intervention team. There are a lot of bridges in Portland.” He sighed. “My friend has lost one or two of the jumpers he was trying to talk down. He didn’t even know them, but he tells me that every death still haunts him. He can’t help but assume responsibility, as if the suicide was preventable if only he’d been better at his job.”

Lopez nodded. “You think that’s how Graham feels?”

“I don’t think it matters to Graham that he hadn’t seen Ellen in the last ten years. Or that she suffered from depression. I think he believes he missed an opportunity—the opportunity—to intervene.”

“Neil Ryland too.” Lopez exhaled heavily. “She out and out told him what she planned to do. That must be quite a cross to bear.”

“For sure.” Cohen picked up his wineglass but instead of bringing it to his lips, he pointed to Lopez with the rim of the glass. “Lina, not that any suicide makes a lot of sense, but this one mystifies me.”

“Why?” Lopez reached over and touched the back of his hand. “One of Ellen’s best friends and colleagues had just drowned. And the lab chimps—she could’ve faced criminal charges if it got out that she had hidden those findings. At the very least, she would have been disgraced in the scientific community. Especially after that human case in Spain.”

“‘Would have been,’ maybe.” Cohen put down his wineglass. “But now that her drug has emerged as the only treatment for MRGAS … .” He laid his other hand on top of hers. “You’re the scientist. Isn’t it fair to say that in light of the impact her drug had made, she would have been forgiven for her past sins?”

Lopez hesitated. She enjoyed the touch of her hand between his. And she realized Cohen was right. “Yeah, I suppose she would have.”

Shyly, he gave her hand a slight squeeze before letting it go. “I don’t understand her suicide note, either,” he said. “This is the twenty-first century. If Horton wanted to tell Ryland something in confidence, she could have phoned, faxed, e-mailed, whatever. Why did she need to leave some cryptic message in a suicide note that she knew others would read?”

“Seth, if she was thinking straight at all she wouldn’t have committed suicide.”

“I suppose,” he said. His eyes were skeptical.