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better.” She said the reason the referral for psychological evaluation was significant was that she had to keep a security clearance. The security clearance could be pulled if the psychologist found she was not reliable. She told them that it was almost a standard procedure for getting rid of people have them flunk the “psych eval.”
    Mike broke in with a question.
    “Kathy, do you know what her supervisor’s name was?”
    “We later learned it was James Barrington. I thought it was odd when I remembered he had come to the funeral.”
    “Okay, go on.”
    Kathy recounted the conversation of how it was a standard procedure, how she would not go along with giving a false write-up to a subordinate, was dead-ended by the psych eval and was ready to move on. She had wanted to explain it face to face, so they would not think she was keeping something from them. Harlan told her NSA was not good enough to keep her.
    She returned to Washington two days later. She called and said they had flunked her on the psych eval. They said she was “clinically depressed and paranoid.” She said she was no more depressed and paranoid than anyone else, and that it was “bogus.” She repeated the old joke about, “you’d be paranoid too, if everyone was after you.”
    Three months after she went back, she was dead. According to the death certificate, she had died of natural causes possibly occasioned by allergic reaction to prescribed medication. They went to Washington, retrieved her remains and some of her things, and brought them back to Weeping Water.
    Kathy sniffled and paused and Harlan took up for her.
    “Mike, I know you’re thinking, ‘We’ll never be able to prove she didn’t kill herself. She was depressed.’”
    Harlan produced a photocopy of a letter from the inside breast pocket of his Mackinaw style overcoat and handed it to Mike.
    It read,
Dear Mom and Dad,
Once again, I’m alright. If there really was something wrong with me, or if the depression and paranoia determination was real, don’t you think you would be able to tell?
    Don’t worry. I love you. No matter what happens I’ll always love you and cherish the knowledge that you will always love me.
    Heck, I’d love to come home and help wait tables and get the crop, just like I used to. Or if you get tired of me, I can live anywhere for a couple years on the money I’ve saved.
    I’m really very happy, thanks to the way you brought me up.
    NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS, I’M ALRIGHT.
    I love you and miss you, as always.
    –Samantha
    “Mike, she wrote that two days before she died.”
    The old man’s voice was gravelly, struggling to speak over his emotions. His fire blue eyes were moist.
    “Mr. and Mrs. Pierce, that’s such complete information I really don’t have any other questions right away. It’s not possible for me to give you any real reaction now. I have to think about it carefully and do some research. I promise to let you know something within a couple of days.”
    Harlan handed Mike a manila folder.
    “We brought copies of the death certificate and the last few documents from her personnel records to leave with you, although you won’t see much in them.”
    “All right then, I’ll get back to you.”

     
    Mike Carson researched the law that might be involved in such a case all the rest of the day and deep into the night. It pulled him into one blind alley after another. And the last one caved in on him. The next day he called Kathy at the number she gave him.
    “I wish I had good news. I’ve researched every possible angle I can think of for a case like this and I can’t find any good way to proceed. I’ll send you a letter explaining it in detail so you won’t have to rely on this phone call later. I’m going to refer you to some other lawyers that I respect and you may need the letter I’ll send when you talk to them, if you decide to do so.
    “Kathy, it all comes back to this. There are some kinds of cases you could bring,