Kamen cupped an enormous hand behind an ear that looked roughly the size of a desk drawer. "Do I hear... a ratcheting noise? I believe I do!"

"What are you talking about?"

"It's the charmingly medieval sound a person's defenses make when they go up." He tried an ironic wink, but the size of the man's face made irony impossible; he could only manage burlesque. Still, I took the point. "As for Kathi Green, you're right, what does she know? All she does is work with paraplegics, quadriplegics, accident-related amps like you, and people recovering from traumatic head injuries - again, like you. For fifteen years Kathi's done this work, she's had the opportunity to watch a thousand maimed patients reflect on how not even a single second of time can ever be called back, so how could she possibly recognize the signs of pre-suicidal depression?"

I sat in the lumpy easy chair across from the couch and stared at him sullenly. Here was trouble. And Kathi Green was more.

He leaned forward... although, given his girth, a few inches was all he could manage. "You have to wait," he said.

I gaped at him.

He nodded. "You're surprised. Yes. But I'm not a Christian, let alone a Catholic, and on the subject of suicide my mind is open. Yet I'm a believer in responsibilities, I know that you are, too, and I tell you this: if you kill yourself now... even six months from now... your wife and daughters will know. No matter how cleverly you do it, they'll know."

"I don't- "

He raised his hand. "And the company that insures your life - for a very large sum, I'm sure - they'll know, too. They may not be able to prove it... but they'll try very hard. The rumors they start will hurt your girls, no matter how well-armored against such things you may think they are."