More digging turned up the psychiatrist who had treated Corin. On being informed of Corin's death and the circumstances, the woman sighed. "She was released against my better judgment," she said. "But she functioned better than I expected, if she went that many years before she began deteriorating. When she was on her medication, she was functional, but she was still – I hate to use labels, even when they're accurate – psychotic. In my opinion, it was only a matter of time before she began lolling. She had all the classic symptoms."
"How did she change from Corin into Leah?"
"Corin was her maternal grandfather's name. Her mother simply refused to accept that her child was female. Females were… 'Unworthy' and 'dirty' were the terms Corin used. Mrs. Street gave Corin a male name, she raised her as a boy, dressed her as a boy, told everyone Corin was her son. If Corin ever made any sort of mistake, even as a very small child, she was punished in a variety of ways: beaten, jabbed with pins, locked in dark closets. Then she reached puberty, and all hell figuratively broke out. Mrs. Street couldn't bear the changes in Corin's body. Menstruation particularly upset her."
"I bet," Sam said, feeling almost nauseated at this litany of abuse.
"After puberty, whenever Corin made a mistake, she was punished in a sexual manner. I leave the details to your imagination."
"Thanks," Sam said dryly.
"She hated her own body, hated female sexuality. With therapy and medication, she did finally develop a rather rudimentary female personality, and she named herself Leah. She worked hard at being a woman. I never had any hopes, though, of her having a normal sexual relationship, or a normal relationship of any land. She learned some female mannerisms, and the medication controlled her violent tendencies, but her grasp of reality was tenuous at best. I'm really surprised she was able to work at the same job for a number of years. Is there anything else you'd like to know?"
"No, Doctor, I think you've answered all my questions," Sam replied. He had needed to know. If Jaine ever wanted to know, he would have the answers for her, but so far she hadn't asked a single question about Leah Street. Maybe that was good. He had known Jaine was a fighter, but he had been surprised by how fiercely she tackled recovery, as if it were an adversary to be whipped into shape. She wasn't going to let Leah Street defeat her in anything.
He checked the time and saw he was running late. "Damn it," he muttered. She would never let him hear the end of it if they were late meeting her folks at the airport. He had some important news for her, news that couldn't wait, and he didn't want her to be angry when he told her. He drove like a maniac to meet her at her parents' house on time. Since all four of them and six weeks' worth of luggage couldn't fit in either her Viper or his truck, they were driving her mom's Lincoln to the airport. She was already in the driver's seat, motor running, when he skidded to a stop in the driveway and leaped out of the truck.
"You're late," she said, chirping the tires as soon as his butt hit the seat. He reached for his seat belt. "We'll make it," he said confidently. With Jaine at the wheel, he had no doubt. Maybe he should warn her about speeding, he thought, then thought better of it. "Remember that interview I had with the state a few weeks back?"
"You got the job," she said.
"How did you know?"
"Why else would you mention it?"
"I trained at the state police academy, so I won't have to do that again. I can go straight into detective work. The problem is, I'll have to relocate."
"So?" She rolled her eyes.
"Don't do that! Watch the road."
"I am watching!"
"It doesn't bother you that we'd have to move? You just bought your house."
"What would bother me," she said succinctly, "is if you lived in one city and I lived in another. That would suck." Oh, man, his favorite word.
She reached the airport in record time and parked the car. As they were hurrying to the arrival gate, she said, "Remember, Dad has Parkinson's, so if his arm is shaking, that's why."
"I remember," he said, his long legs easily keeping stride with her.
They had just reached the gate when passengers began pouring out. Her parents appeared almost immediately. Jaine squealed and ran to her mother, throwing her arms around her and hugging fiercely, then repeating the procedure with her dad.
"This is Sam!" she said, dragging him forward. Her folks already knew about the impending marriage, so her mother threw her arms around him and he got hugged, too.
Jaine's dad extended a wildly trembling right hand. "Here," he said. "You hold my hand while I take care of the shaking."
Sam burst into a roar of laughter. Jaine's mother said, "Lyle! Really!"
"What?" he asked, looking affronted at her rebuke. "If I can't have a little fun with it, what's the point in having it?" In those bright blue eyes, Sam saw a gleam that told him Jaine was a chip off the old engine block.
"We have a lot of news," Jaine said, linking arms with her mother and walking down the concourse. "You have to promise not to get mad."
That was guaranteed to keep them calm, Sam thought. Lyle Bright said, "Just as long as you haven't wrecked my car."