“Well, he has a link to the shelter, he’s a Freeman and a Club member, and even if he is the City’s chief pathologist, that might simply make it easier for him to find allies for a cover-up.”

You can’t hurt me. Miranda shook her head at the echo of a nightmare. “Yes. Why not? Dr. Boadu it is. At least his name actually features in some of the case materials.”

“Why don’t you see if you can get an appointment with him? You’ll be starting hydrotherapy sessions at the pool soon.”

Miranda was unenthused. “Yes.”

“Poor you,” said Fae. “It’s not like you ever took to swimming, not even when you were able.”

Miranda felt her teeth grinding. Fae’s unsentimental, cool manner, which had been so attractive in earlier days when everything was still raw and painful, was becoming a simple irritant, like constant grit against the skin. The words were bad enough, but what really grated on her nerves was the mildly amused tone Fae used, as if she were commenting on an ironic situation that had happened to a stranger far away and long ago.

Miranda wished she could say that she had almost drowned as a child or been terrorized by storm waves while sailing, but the truth was that she simply hated being immersed. She hated the lack of solidity under her feet, the slowed reaction of her limbs when she tried to move, the stinging of her eyes, and the hollow warble of water in her ears. She especially hated the stabbing sensation of water flooding up her nose and into her sinuses, which would always happen, no matter how careful she was with her breathing.

Nurse Benet told her not to worry. She would be kept at the shallow end, there would be someone with her at all times, and she would be fitted with a special vest that would not only prevent her from accidentally overextending her legs and spine but would also make it impossible for her to sink. She should have no fear whatsoever that the water would go over her head.

Instead, hydrotherapy proved to be frightening in a completely different way. Miranda had not realized how much her muscles had weakened. She was accustomed to having the brace removed briefly each morning for a sponge bath and change of clothing, but that was all accomplished while she was lying down. When the therapist took off the brace this time, she was seated, and she had to seize the arms of the chair to keep upright. Then, to her surprise and dismay, she was given an inflatable vest that stopped above her waist and a broad, belt-like brace to strap around her hips. Her waist was unprotected, unsupported.

The therapist saw her concern. “It will be easier to hold yourself upright when you’re in the water,” she assured her.