An excerpt...

Mattie's happy memories with Mama were few and fading. He could still hear her sweet voice singing to him. Holding him as they rocked in the swing on the porch. Splashing in the lake. Then baby Charlotte came and Mama cried all the time. She barely left her room. She would lay in her bed with the shades drawn, a bottle of pills on the night table, something else under the bed. Even when little Charlotte screamed, Mama would just say, Mattie, tell Mrs. Henderson to get Charlotte a bottle or to change that baby's diaper, Mama's tired. Sometimes, she would let little Charlotte lay with her and that would calm them both. Briefly. Daddy wanted to get a nanny, a young girl from the country club, to come help Mama, but Mama screamed and cried so nobody came to help. Thus, it continued: Mama cried, Charlotte cried, Daddy threw things.

Mattie watched and waited.

One day, Charlotte wouldn't stop crying. Daddy was working in his office, I don't want to hear a peep, you hear me, Mattie? Unless the house is burning down I don't want to hear a thing. Mrs. Henderson was watching her soaps in the kitchen, don't bother me, boy, while my soaps is on. Mama had swallowed her medicine earlier along with half the bottle she kept under the bed. She was sleeping with her mouth open. Mattie had been watching her when Charlotte started crying.

Mattie dragged the chair over to the crib and picked her up. She was so little still. His head ached for release.

The police said it was an accident.

"It could happen to anyone, Mrs. Vogel. Mr. Vogel. I know it hurts, but don't blame yourself."

They said Mama had rolled over onto baby Charlotte, suffocating her.

Mama didn't remember anything. Daddy was ashen-faced, holding her, both inconsolable. Mattie sat by the lake, the smallest of smiles on his face as he waited for the pieces to click into place.

The next morning, Mama never woke up.

They say she overdosed on her medication. They found sediment from her pills in the bottom of her vodka bottle. Overwhelmed by grief while still suffering from post-partum depression. So sad.

A few days later, they found Daddy with a gun in his mouth, and the back of his head splattered on the wall behind him. What a tragedy, everyone said. Leaving that poor sweet boy all alone.

Years later, Mattie became Dr. Matthew Vogel, psychiatrist. He was one of the most successful psychiatrists in New York, known for his sensitivity and empathy. And a rather liberal dispensing of prescription anti-depressants. He had a thriving practice on the upper east side.

Until a young detective connected the dots between him and a puzzling suicide...and then a series of "suicides" going back 30 years...