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Dear Reader,

For the past twenty years Silhouette has been bringing you stories of love, laughter, passion and families. I have been honored to be a part of that tradition for more than half of that time. I can’t imagine anything more rewarding, either as a writer or as a reader. In the end, you see, that is what I am—a reader, just like you.

I love to read about that first hesitant glance of interest between two people, about their struggles to make a relationship work and, of course, about the power of love. As a former journalist who still avidly follows the news, I know that the world is often not a pretty place, just as the path to love is not always smooth. But I am ultimately a believer in the happy ending, and nobody brings you that with more variety, more tears, more laughter and more satisfaction than Silhouette. I’m so glad to be a part of that tradition and even more delighted that you are, too.

With warm congratulations to Silhouette for bringing a little touch of romance into all of our lives.

And Baby Makes Three:

The Delacourts of Texas:

A Delacourt of Texas finds love, and fatherhood,

in a most unexpected way!

Dylan and the Baby Doctor
Sherryl Woods

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SHERRYL WOODS

Whether she’s living in California, Florida or Virginia, Sherryl Woods always makes her home by the sea. A walk on the beach, the sound of waves, the smell of the salt air all provide inspiration for this writer of more than sixty romance and mystery novels. Sherryl hopes you’re enjoying these latest entries in the AND BABY MAKES THREE series for Silhouette Special Edition. You can write to Sherryl or—from April through December—stop by and meet her at her bookstore, Potomac Sunrise, 308 Washington Avenue, Colonial Beach, VA 22443.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Prologue

A half dozen yelling, laughing toddlers raced around the backyard of pediatrician Kelsey James. They were definitely on a sugar high after consuming enough birthday cake and ice cream for twice as many kids.

Maybe they hadn’t actually consumed it, she concluded after a survey of the mess. An awful lot appeared to have been smeared over shirts, spilled on the dark green picnic table or dumped in the grass, along with trails of ribbon and shredded wrapping paper. Melting pools of vanilla ice cream were everywhere. Having the party outside had been a very smart decision.

“Obviously, the party is a success,” Lizzy Adams-Robbins declared, conducting her own survey of the damage. “I can’t imagine why you were so worried.”

Finally, after days of ridiculous anxiety over throwing a kid’s birthday party, Kelsey actually allowed herself to relax. She listened to the laughter and smiled for the first time in days, maybe longer. The tight knot in her stomach eased and something that felt a lot like contentment replaced it. It was such a fragile, unfamiliar sensation, she basked in it for just a moment before responding.

“It is wonderful, isn’t it?” she said finally. “I know I was acting like a nutcase over this, but Bobby’s been through so much these past few months—leaving his dad, moving to a new place, making new friends. I just wanted his birthday party to be special. The Western theme was his idea. Ever since we stayed out at your father’s ranch, he’s really taken with the idea of being a cowboy.”

“Well, the new boots were definitely a big hit,” Lizzy said.

“They ought to be. Custom boots for a three-year-old.” Kelsey shook her head. “I must be overcompensating.”

Lizzy, whom she had known since med school in Miami, squeezed her hand. “Kelsey, stop with the guilt this instant. You had no choice. You had to divorce Paul. He was a creep. And you were absolutely right to get out of Miami and come here. The clinic needed you. I needed you. And Bobby is fitting in just fine.” She clasped Kelsey’s shoulders and turned her to look at the chaos. “You can stop overcompensating. Does that look like a little boy who is unhappy?”

Kelsey found herself grinning again at the sight of her son, his chubby little legs pumping furiously to keep up with the older children, his face streaked with chocolate frosting and vanilla ice cream. He looked like a perfectly normal little boy who was having the time of his life.

“He is having a good time, isn’t he? And the presents…” She shook her head in bemusement. “Your family really didn’t have to go crazy with the presents. There are too many toys. He doesn’t play with even half of the ones he has now.”

Lizzy rolled her eyes. “Tell that to my father. He doesn’t believe it’s possible for a child to have too many toys. Nothing makes him happier than spoiling his babies, and as far as he’s concerned you and Bobby became part of the family the minute you arrived in town.”

Harlan Adams truly was remarkable. Kelsey had heard all about him from Lizzy, of course, but even all those old tales of a doting father hadn’t prepared her for the incredible eighty-nine-year-old patriarch of the Adams clan. She had never known anyone as generous or as wise. Or as meddlesome, she thought fondly.

When he’d first heard about Kelsey’s decision to leave Miami and the reasons for it, he’d called her himself and added his invitation to Lizzy’s. Once she was in Los Piños, he’d welcomed her warmly, taking her and Bobby into his own home at White Pines until they could find a place of their own. He’d allowed the two of them to leave only when he’d checked out the new house for himself and concluded that it was suitable. He’d even insisted she raid his attic for furniture, since she’d taken very little from the Miami home she had shared with Paul.

Harlan Adams had also extracted a promise that they would go on joining the family for Sunday dinner at the ranch. He was as indulgent and attentive with Bobby as he was with all of his own grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Bobby had basked in the masculine attention, a commodity that had been all too rare in his young life. His own father had been too busy scoring business deals and pills to pay much attention to him.

With her own parents far away in Maine and not nearly as generous with their love or their time, Kelsey was more grateful for the Adamses than she could ever say. She owed them all, but especially Harlan, his wife Janet, and of course Lizzy, the best friend any woman could ask for. Lizzy had made it all possible and acted as if Kelsey were the one doing her a favor, rather than the other way around.

“Have I told you how grateful I am?” she asked Lizzy.

“Only about a million times,” Lizzy said. “I’m the one who’s grateful. We needed a pediatrician here and I can’t imagine anyone I’d rather work with than you. The timing couldn’t have been better.”

“Still—”

“Stop it,” Lizzy said firmly. She studied Kelsey intently. “Are you really doing okay, though? No second thoughts? No regrets over divorcing Paul? Los Pin˜os is a far cry from Miami and our little clinic would fit into one tiny corner of the trauma center back there.”

“Definitely no regrets over Paul. And you were the one who was hell-bent on being a big trauma doctor. I just love kids. It doesn’t matter where I treat them. I couldn’t be happier right here,” Kelsey reassured her, meaning every word.

The differences were all good ones. There was a sense of community here that was never possible in a bustling, urban environment like Miami. While she might have made a difference in Miami and while the medical challenges might have been greater, here the rewards came in the form of sticky hugs from her pint-sized patients and warm, grateful smiles from people she was getting to know as friends.

Most of all, Los Pin˜os was far away from Paul James and the disaster he had almost made of both their lives. Hopefully, he would never discover her whereabouts. Hopefully, her ex-husband would forget her existence—and Bobby’s. That was the deal they had made. She would forget his deceit, his illegal use of her prescription pads to get narcotics, and he would leave her and his son alone.

Forgetting hadn’t been easy. At the end, Paul’s behavior had been so erratic, so unpredictable, she hadn’t been convinced he would stick to his word…or even remember he’d given it. It had been nearly a year now, and so far she hadn’t heard so much as a peep from him. She was finally beginning to relax her guard a little. She’d stopped panicking whenever the phone rang or whenever a strange car drove past the house.

She glanced at Bobby, who was adding grape juice to the stains on his face and clothes, and smiled. He was all boy, a miniature version of her ex, with the same dimpled smile, the same light brown hair and dark brown eyes. But while her son’s eyes were bright and clear and most often twinkling with laughter, Paul’s had been shadowed or too-bright with the drugs she hadn’t guessed he was taking until way too late.

She felt Lizzy squeeze her hand, looked up and met her friend’s concerned gaze.

“Don’t go back there,” Lizzy advised. “Not even for a minute. You couldn’t have changed anything. It was Paul’s problem, not yours. If he didn’t care enough about himself or you to get off the pills, nothing you could have done would have helped.”

Kelsey was amazed by Lizzy’s perceptiveness. “How did you know what was on my mind?”

“Because it usually is. Besides, I always know what you’re thinking, just the way you could read my mind back in med school. You knew how I felt about marrying Hank practically before I did.”

Kelsey chuckled. “Not possible. You knew you were in love with Hank Robbins from the time you were a schoolgirl. From the moment we became roommates, all I ever heard about was Hank this or Hank that. It didn’t require major deductive reasoning to figure out you were crazy about the guy.”

“I knew I was in love with him, yes, but not that I was ready to marry him and juggle a baby, marriage and med school,” Lizzy said. “I was scared silly when I found out I was pregnant. You helped me to see that I had to take that final leap of faith, that we could make it work.”

Lizzy wasn’t exaggerating her panic. Kelsey recalled exactly how upset Lizzy had been when she’d first realized she was pregnant with Hank’s baby. There had never been a doubt in Kelsey’s mind what the outcome would be, especially once Hank had found out about the pregnancy. Lizzy’s handsome, totally smitten cowboy had pursued her with relentless determination, ignoring her doubts, finding solutions and compromises that Lizzy had claimed were impossible.

“It’s worked out fine, hasn’t it? No regrets?”

“Better than fine, smarty.” Lizzy grinned, then leaned closer to confide in a whisper, “In fact, we’re going to have another baby.”

“Oh, my.” Kelsey sighed, trying to hide any hint of envy. She had wanted a whole houseful of kids herself, but if Bobby was all she ever had, he would be enough. She gave Lizzy a fierce hug. “Congratulations! That’s wonderful. Does Hank know yet?”

Lizzy gave her a rueful look. “You may have found out before he did last time, but this time I thought Hank ought to be the first to know. I told him last night.”

“And?”

“He’s over the moon. He’s wanted this for a long time. I was the holdout. While I was finishing my residency and getting the clinic started, I didn’t think he should carry all the burden for child care, even though he seems to love it. I figured it was about time I pitched in, too. The clinic’s hours are a whole lot more consistent than my hours at the hospital in Garden City. I might actually get to see this baby’s first step and hear his or her first word. I missed so much of that with Jamey.”

“I am so happy for you.”

“Will you be a godmother to this one?”

Kelsey was enchanted with the idea of becoming an even more integral part of the extended Adams family. “Nothing would please me more,” she said at once. “Of course, with the two of us to influence this baby, he or she won’t have any choice but to be a doctor.”

Lizzy shook her head. “Not a chance. Girl or boy, Hank wants a rancher. He says Jamey already spends too much time wanting to cut up frogs like his mama did in school.”

Lizzy glanced around at the half dozen kids, most of whom were beginning to fade from all the partying. Her gaze sought out Jamey, who was tanned and had his daddy’s rich brown, sun-streaked hair. He was five now and had a definite mind of his own. The stubborn streak was Lizzy’s contribution, according to Hank, along with the fascination with cutting up dead critters.

“Well, I think it’s time to get the troops home before they all wind up sound asleep in your backyard,” Lizzy said.

“Thank you again for helping today,” Kelsey said.

“Anytime. If you need any of us for anything ever, all you need to do is call. Day or night, okay?”

It was something Lizzy never failed to remind her of, Kelsey thought, as her friend left with a carload of exhausted Adams kids. Although she appreciated the gesture of support, too often it only served as an unnerving reminder to Kelsey that as unpredictable as Paul James was, there very well could come a time when she would desperately need their help.

Chapter One

Dylan Delacourt knew perfectly well why he’d been spending so much time visiting his baby sister lately. Oh, he claimed that he was just checking up on her for the rest of the family. He said he liked helping his new brother-in-law work on the house Hardy had built for Trish. But the truth was, he was in Los Pin˜os because of his niece.

Baby Laura had stolen his heart. On his worst days, when he was so low everything looked black, Laura’s smile was like sunshine. Seeing it was a bittersweet sensation, though. It reminded him just a little too much of another baby, another sweet smile.

The last time he’d held his son, Shane had been just about Laura’s age, thirteen months. He’d just begun to toddle around on unsteady legs. He’d uttered his first word, Mama, and that had pretty much been the moment when Dylan had concluded that Shane belonged with Kit and her new husband full-time.

Saying goodbye to his boy, doing what was best for him and letting him grow up with a “father,” rather than a stepfather, had almost killed Dylan. He’d agonized over it for months, hated Kit for divorcing him and forcing him into making such an untenable decision.

But he had also known just how deep the bitterness between him and Kit ran, recognized that no matter how hard they tried, there would never be agreement or peace or cooperation between them. In the end, he hadn’t been willing to subject his son to the inevitable battles, the simmering resentments. Giving up Shane was probably the single most unselfish act of his life. And not a day went by that he didn’t regret it.

His own grief and pain had been lessened somewhat by the knowledge that Kit’s new husband was a kind, decent man, who already had two boys of his own. Steve Davis kept regular hours, not the erratic, unpredictable schedule of a private eye. He would give Shane the time, the love and the whole family that the boy deserved.

Dylan tried never to look back, but there were too many days and twice as many nights when that was impossible. It had been more than four years now and he still ached for his boy. He wondered how tall he was, if he still had the same cowlick in his hair, if he was athletic, if he remembered his real daddy at all. That’s when the regrets would start to add up and he’d turn up in Los Pin˜os, his mood bleak, his soul weary.

Trish intuitively understood what brought him there and over time, Dylan had revealed some of it to Hardy. He withstood their pitying looks, accepted their love and their concern. But with little Laura, there was only the sunshine of her brilliant smile and the joy of her laughter. He could be a hero, instead of the dad who’d walked away.

“Unca Dyl,” she squealed when she saw him climb out of his rugged sports utility vehicle on a dreary Friday night. Arms outstretched, she pumped her little legs so fast, she almost tripped over her own feet trying to get to him.

Dylan scooped her up and into the air above his head until she chortled with glee. He brought her down to peer into her laughing blue eyes that were so like her mama’s. He’d been nine when Trish was born and he could still remember the way she, too, had looked up at him as if he were ten feet tall.

“Munchkin, I think you’re destined to be a pilot or an astronaut,” he declared. “You have absolutely no fear of heights.”

Laura giggled and gestured until he lifted her high again, then swung her low in a stomach-sinking dip.

“Still making career choices for her, I see,” Trish said, stepping off the porch to join them. “For a man who refused to let anyone tell him what he should grow up to be, you seem intent on controlling your niece’s destiny.”

“Not controlling it,” Dylan insisted. “Just listing a few of her options.” He dropped a kiss on his sister’s cheek. “Thanks for letting me come.”

Instantly, sympathy filled her eyes. “I know it’s a tough weekend. Shane will be six tomorrow, right?”

Dylan nodded. “I don’t want to talk about it, though.”

Trish sighed. “You never do. Dylan, don’t you think—”

“I’m not going to get in touch with him,” he said fiercely. “I made a deal with Kit and Steve. I intend to stick to it. If the time ever comes when Shane wants to know me, she’ll help him find me. Until then, I have to forget about him.”

“I don’t know how you can live with that,” she whispered, touching his cheek. “I know you think it was the right thing to do, but—”

“It was the only thing to do. Now can we drop it, please? I could have stayed home and listened to Mother, if I’d wanted to go over this again. Goodness knows, she never lets me forget how I’d deprived her of getting to know her first grandchild.”

Trish looked as if she might argue, then sighed. “Done. I hope you’re hungry, though. Hardy’s out back making hamburgers on the grill. It’s his night to cook and if it can’t be done on a grill, we don’t eat.”

Over the weekend, Dylan fell into the easy rhythms of his sister’s family, grateful to be able to push the memories away for a few days at least. When Sunday rolled around, he still wasn’t ready to go back to Houston and face real life. None of the cases on his desk were challenging. Just routine skip-traces, a straying husband, an amateur attempt at insurance fraud. He could wrap any one of them up in less than a day, which was one of the reasons he’d been so desperate to get away. Tackling them wouldn’t have crowded out his misery.

“Stay one more night,” Trish begged.

He figured she’d sensed his reluctance to go. His baby sister had always been able to read him like a book, better than any of the younger brothers who’d come between them. Fiercely loyal and kindhearted, the male Delacourts taunted each other and banded together against the outside world. But as tight-knit as they were, none of his brothers dared to bulldoze through his defenses the way Trish did.

“Yeah,” Hardy agreed, picking up on some unspoken signal from his wife. “Stick around. You can get the tile up in the second bathroom. Trish says I don’t have the patience to do it right.”

“And I do?” Dylan said, amused by their ploy to make him feel that his continued presence wasn’t an intrusion. Crediting him with more patience than anyone was a real stretch.

“Trust me,” Trish said. “You’re bound to have more than my husband. He keeps getting distracted.”

Hardy grinned. “Because I happen to have a very sexy new wife.”

Sometimes witnessing their happiness was more painful than going back to his lonely existence in Houston, but tonight there was no contest. Anything was better than going home.

Dylan held up his hands. “Okay, okay, no details, please. You two may be married, but she’s still my baby sister. I’ll stay.”

“Good,” Trish said, beaming, clearly pleased with herself.

That night, just as they were finishing supper, the phone rang. Because he was closest, Dylan grabbed it.

“Oh, Dylan, is that you?” a vaguely familiar voice demanded.

Dylan tensed, alerted by the tone to trouble. “Yes. Who is this?”

“It’s Lizzy. Lizzy Adams. I’m the doctor who treated Trish after Laura was born. We met at Trish’s wedding.”

He recalled a slender, dark-haired woman who’d radiated confidence. She didn’t sound so sure of herself now. “Of course. You want to talk to Trish. She’s right here.”

“No, no. It’s you I need to speak to.”

“Oh?”

“You’re a private detective, right?”

“Yes.” He slid into professional mode, finally grasping that what he was hearing in her voice was a thread of panic she was trying hard to hide. “What’s going on?”

“My friend, the doctor who works with me at the clinic, Kelsey James…have you met her?”

Although he’d met dozens of people at the wedding and on subsequent visits, no image came to mind. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, it’s about her little boy, Bobby. Something’s happened.”

Dylan’s heart began to thud dully. Something told him he didn’t want to know the rest, but he forced himself to ask anyway. “What about him?”

“He’s disappeared. She thinks he’s been kidnapped. Can you come, Dylan? Can you come right away?”

“Just tell me where,” he said grimly, beckoning for paper and pencil. As soon as he had them, he jotted down the directions. “Have you talked to the police?”

“Justin’s here now,” she said, referring to her nephew who also happened to be the local sheriff. “He needs help, though. Kelsey wants this kept quiet. She won’t let him call in the FBI or anyone else from outside.”

The knee-jerk reaction of a panicked parent—or something more? “Why?” he asked.

“Let her explain. Just come. Please.”

“I’m on my way.”

“What?” Trish demanded, already standing as he reached for his jacket. “Why did Lizzy call you? What’s happened?”

“It’s about somebody named Kelsey. Her little boy’s disappeared.”

“Oh, no,” Trish whispered, suddenly glancing at Laura as if to reassure herself that her daughter was right where she belonged. She regarded him worriedly. “Dylan, I don’t know about this. Are you sure this is something you should get involved in? I know you’re the best and I adore Kelsey and Bobby, but won’t this be too hard?”

“I can’t just turn my back,” he said, wondering what the look Trish exchanged with Hardy was all about. “You obviously know this Kelsey person. Is there something more that I should know?”

“No,” Trish insisted.

She said it without looking at him, which sure as anything meant she was covering up something. Trish had never been able to lie worth a hoot.

“Trish?”

“Just go.”

He thought Hardy looked every bit as guilty as his sister, but he didn’t have time to try to find out what they were hiding. If he didn’t like the answers he got from Kelsey James, he’d come back here for the missing pieces.

“I’ll try to call,” he said, “but don’t wait up for me.”

“If you need people for a search, call me,” Hardy said. “I can get all the men from White Pines to help out.”

“Thanks. Let’s see what’s going on first.”

If he had been anyplace other than Los Pin˜os, Dylan would have called one of his buddies to take over right this second, because Trish was right—searching for missing kids tore him up inside. But there weren’t a lot of private detectives nearby and time was critical in a situation like this. He had no choice. All he could do was pray that this disappearance would have a happy ending.

Kelsey felt as if someone had ripped out her heart. Anyone who’d been through med school and worked in an emergency room was used to terrible stress and was able to think clearly in a crisis. Despite all that training, though, she hadn’t been able to form a coherent thought since the moment when she’d realized that Bobby was no longer playing in the backyard where she’d left him.

She had simply stood staring blankly at the open gate, frozen, until adrenaline kicked in. Then she had raced to the street, pounded frantically on doors, trailed by bewildered, helpful neighbors as she’d searched futilely for her son. Although plenty of people were outside on such a sunny summer day, no one had seen him leave the yard. No one had seen him toddling down the street. A child Bobby’s age, alone, would have drawn attention.

She had no idea how long it had been—minutes, an hour—before she concluded that Bobby hadn’t simply wandered away. By then both Justin and Lizzy had arrived, alerted by the neighbors. Justin had taken charge automatically, asking crisp, concise questions, organizing a search and leaving Lizzy to sit with her and try to keep her calm, when she wanted to be out searching herself.

With neighbors crowded around wanting to help, talking in hushed voices, Kelsey didn’t feel calm, not after three cups of chamomile tea, not after the mild tranquilizer her friend had insisted she take. She wasn’t sure she would ever be calm again, not until she had her baby back in her arms. This was her worst nightmare coming true. It didn’t matter that no one had seen a stranger on the street. She knew what had happened. She knew who had taken Bobby. And why.

“It’s Paul,” she whispered finally, forcing herself to say aloud what had been tormenting her from the moment she’d realized Bobby was gone. “He’s taken him. I know he has.”

“You’re probably right,” Lizzy said, her tone soothing, as if she still feared that Kelsey would shatter at any second. “And I know you hate the man’s guts, but isn’t that better than a stranger? Paul won’t hurt Bobby. Despite what a louse I think he is, I know he loved Bobby. He just wants money or drugs and Bobby’s his bargaining chip. I think you can count on him being in touch. He’s not going to run with him. He’ll bring Bobby back the minute he gets what he wants.”

“If he’s desperate, who knows what he’ll do?” Kelsey countered, shuddering.

This wasn’t the old Paul, the one she’d fallen in love with. That Paul had been brilliant and driven and passionate. He had loved her in a way she’d never expected to be loved, charming her, convincing her in the end that he couldn’t live without her, that they shouldn’t wait till she finished med school or her residency to marry. It was ironic, really, that she’d struggled with the thought of marrying, just as Lizzy had, had finally rationalized that if Lizzy and Hank could juggle everything and make it work, so could she and Paul.

She couldn’t exactly pinpoint when Paul had changed. Maybe he hadn’t, not really. Maybe the drive she’d so admired in him at first had always been an obsessive need to win, to get what he wanted when he wanted it. He’d gotten her. He’d gotten the perfect job at the right brokerage house, then slaved to be the top broker, the quickest to earn a promotion. He’d convinced her to have a baby, even when she’d been so sure it was too soon, that their schedules were too demanding.

“We have the money. We can afford help,” he’d reasoned. “I want a family, while we’re still young.”

Now, always now. But she had gone along, because he had wanted it so much and she had wanted to please him. When Bobby came, every doubt she had had vanished. He was perfect. Paul was ecstatic and more driven than ever. Their son was going to have the best of everything.

“We have enough,” she had told him more than once. But it was never enough for Paul, not for a kid whose family had struggled while he was growing up. He told her again and again that he knew the real meaning of adversity and he was determined that his wife and son would never catch so much as a glimpse of it. “Not as long as I’m able to bring in the big bucks just by putting in some long hours.”

Then he had taken a nasty spill on a ski trip and fractured his wrist. It should have been little more than a minor inconvenience, but she knew now that that was when his addiction began. He’d taken the painkillers so he wouldn’t have to slow down for so much as a second. He hadn’t wanted to miss making a single commission. He’d never stopped.

She had cursed herself a thousand times for not realizing he was hooked. She was a doctor, for heaven’s sake. She should have caught the signs, but she was too busy herself. In her own way, she was every bit as much of an overachiever as Paul.

Then there was a traffic accident. Paul’s injuries were minor, the other driver’s only slightly worse, but the routine bloodwork the police insisted on had revealed a high level of painkillers in his system. Confronted, he’d promised to stop taking them.

Shaken to the core, Kelsey had searched the house, found every last pill herself and flushed them all down the toilet. She had warned Paul to get help or lose her. She had wanted desperately to believe that he loved her and Bobby enough to quit.

A month later, she’d realized that her prescription pad was missing. Suspicious, she had made calls to half a dozen pharmacies, verified that her husband had gotten pills at every one of them and at who knew how many more. He had forged her signature on every prescription.

She had seen a lawyer that same day and had the divorce and custody papers drawn up. It was a drastic course of action, but she hadn’t known what else to do. She had prayed that maybe the sight of the divorce papers would shock him into getting help. It hadn’t. He’d simply taken more pills and blamed her for backing him into a corner.