While I waited for someone to answer, I heard two sets of footsteps ascend the stairs and head toward my bedroom.
A woman picked up the phone and said, “Paul? Is that you?”
I stilled when I realized it was Mrs. Reynolds.
“Say something, Paul. I don’t like secrets or being lied to.”
Nat’s voice broke into my confused silence. “You got company, Lottie.”
I looked up and discovered Paul standing next to him.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I disconnected the call and took a step back, watching Paul with caution.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
His face showed bewilderment at the question, then apprehension when he saw the cell phone in my hand.
I held it up. “Explain this.”
“It’s a cell phone. It’s used to make phone calls.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Try again.”
Paul hesitated.
“It’s all here on this phone,” I said. “The texts and the calls you made to me. Why did you do it?”
“I haven’t done anything.”
Nat moved in beside me. “What’s going on?”
Paul’s eyes flicked to Nat then settled back on me. “I came here to apologize for what happened yesterday.”
I looked at Nat. “This is Paul’s phone. It’s filled with phone calls made to Mrs. Reynolds, and incriminating texts and calls made to me. David found it on Logan yesterday, and I suspect that’s why Logan’s been trying to meet with me. He discovered what I needed to know.”
“The calls we’ve been investigating?” he asked.
“Yes.” I looked back at Paul. “Did you send the hair, too?”
“What hair?” Paul asked. “Lottie, you’re not making any sense and you’re agitated.” He turned to Nat. “She needs to be sedated.”
“He’s lying,” I told Nat.
“You’ve seen her behavior lately, haven’t you?” Paul asked. “Lottie has been experiencing episodes that have no basis in reality and these episodes seem to be getting worse. She needs attention. Promptly.”
Paul took a step closer and I stood firm. “You’re not denying anything. In fact, I’d say that your evasiveness over my accusations only shows just how guilty you are.”
For one brief moment I saw Paul’s expression soften, giving me a glimpse of the man I thought I knew. I thought about what Mrs. Reynolds said on the phone, about her not liking his secrets, and I wondered what other secrets Paul kept hidden from me, too. Then his features hardened and the Paul I knew faded away.
“We were best friends for years, Paul,” I said. “I’ve confided in you and you in me. Why do this? Was it because I chose David instead of you?”
“Help me restrain her,” Paul said to Nat. “And I’ll get her hospitalized and under observation.”
Nat’s gaze volleyed between the two of us.
“Was it because I never gave us a chance?” I asked.
Paul pressed his lips together.
“I’m sorry that things didn’t work out for us, and I’m sorry I hurt you, Paul. You have to know I never intended to cause you any pain.”
Paul remained silent but there was heaviness in his silence that didn’t sit well, and I knew that wasn’t all of it. There had to be more at stake here. But what? I remembered the photo of his niece, Deborah, which Paul kept in its prideful place on the shelf in his office, where everyone could see it, and knew I had the bigger answer.
“Was it because of what happened to Deborah?”
Paul flinched and I knew I had him.
“Was it?” When Paul didn’t respond, I asked, “Was it because Deborah was like the daughter you never had?”
Paul swallowed and a small bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face.
“Was it because she was depressed and you couldn’t help her?”
His jaw clenched.
“Or was it because I couldn’t help her either? Are you blaming me for her death?”
“It was your fault!” Paul fired back. “You found another psychiatrist and had him prescribe a medication you knew carried increased risk of suicide in teenagers. And you did nothing about it. She had her whole life ahead of her, and you didn’t look for the signs, and by the time we realized what was going on it was too late!”
“And you’re going to make me pay for it.”
“You deserve it,” Paul grated, then his tone turned apologetic. “That didn’t come out the way I meant, Lottie.”
“I think it did.”
Nat tugged the phone from his waist.
“Put that down,” Paul said. “There’s no need to call for help. I can take care of her. She needs psychiatric help at a proper facility. She needs a psychiatrist who can look after her.”
Paul moved for me and Nat stepped in between. “I’ll call whoever I think I need, buddy. The lady wants answers,” he said. “I suggest you give them to her.”
Paul snagged the cell from my hand.
“Call David,” I told Nat. “Now.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Nat tackled Paul, knocking the cell phone from his hand. It skittered across the tile floor and I raced to pick it up. I heard a body slam against a wall and the sound of fist on bone, followed by heavy breathing and then silence. When I turned around, Nat was hefting an unconscious Paul into a seated position against a wall. Paul had a giant welt on his cheek and a split lip.
“Is he going to be okay?” I asked.
“Don’t worry about this jerk-wad.” Nat turned to me. “You got any rope or twine so I can tie him up before he comes around? He won’t be out forever.”
Paul looked peaceful and composed and more like the man I used to know. Or thought I knew. In hindsight, it all seemed so obvious now — what Paul had done and why he’d done it — and the truth hurt. I’d trusted him and never saw the betrayal coming. I didn’t even see his need for revenge.
“The rope’s in the garage,” I said.
Nat went to find the rope and I called David again, only to leave another message. As soon as I hung up, Nat returned and my cell phone rang.
Logan didn’t wait for my hello. “I need your help, Doctor Morgan.”
He sounded distressed and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. It wasn’t the first time he’d tried playing games with me, and I knew there was no reason it would be different now.
“Where are you?” I asked, watching Nat tie up Paul.
“Home and I need you to come over. Something’s going down with my mother.”
“Are you in danger? Do you need me to call the police?”
“No.” Logan’s voice dropped. “She’s acting weird. She’s pacing around, mumbling shit to herself, saying stuff about this guy, Paul, that she’s been dating, and saying stuff about you, too. She looks all wired, like she’s whacked out or something, and keeps saying she has to get to you. I don’t get what’s happening.”
I glanced at Paul on the floor, bound by his hands and feet. Nat was searching through his wallet and personal phone.
“Is she coherent?” I asked.
“Sorta. It started when we got home, after she posted my bail with the cops. She didn’t say nothing in the car, but she got a phone call from Paul a couple of minutes ago and something got her spooked.”
I intended to head over and evaluate the situation firsthand but remembered the dozens of times Logan had told stories before. Then I heard his mother in the background, calling out Paul’s name, and knew he was telling the truth. Paul had lied to me and withheld from me, and I knew there was more to him that I had to find out. And Logan and Mrs. Reynolds could complete the picture.
“Okay,” I said. “Give me your address and I’ll head over right now.”
I shoved Paul’s cell phone in one back pocket and my own in the other, and returned to the kitchen for my keys. Nat followed and grabbed my hand.
“Wait for David first,” he said.
“I can’t. Log
an needs me. You’re done here and I have the evidence that proves it’s been Paul all along.” I patted my back pocket where I had stashed the phone.
“Lottie, I’m only gonna say this once.”
“Consider it said. I’ll see you later.”
Nat cursed but didn’t follow, and I made it to Mrs. Reynolds’s driveway in Huntington Bay in less than thirty minutes. Well-tended with huge trees and rolling hills, the mansion looked like something from a magazine cover. I sat in the Jeep, idling and wondering how I would handle the meeting. At the first sign of trouble, I decided I was calling the police.
I cut the engine, walked up the long, cobblestone driveway to the front entrance, and rang the doorbell, unsure of what to expect on the other side. One of the massive wood, double doors swung open and Logan peered out at me from the inside. A chandelier the size of a small car hung over a foyer as big as my entire first floor.
“Where is she?” I asked.
“In the living room.”
“Does she know I’m coming?”
Logan shook his head.
I stepped over the threshold, heard Mrs. Reynolds call out Paul’s name again, and followed the direction of her voice with Logan close behind. My Keds squeaked across the inlaid, undoubtedly imported wood floor.
“My mother’s gonna try to play you,” Logan whispered as we entered a living room that had two fireplaces and was decorated with furniture and art that I guessed totaled more than my annual salary.
Mrs. Reynolds was sitting on a raw silk wing chair reading Vogue magazine near the larger fireplace. “Paul? Where have you been?” She looked up from her magazine at Logan and then to me, rose from her chair, smoothed her black dress, and gave me a cordial smile.
“Doctor Morgan, what a pleasant surprise. What brings you here this afternoon?”
Logan gave me another warning look and took a position near a tapestry sofa. I headed for the wing chair beside his mother.
“Logan called me because he said you were asking for me,” I said. “I apologize that I showed up unannounced. I hope you don’t mind.”
Mrs. Reynolds’s mouth thinned and an unspoken message passed between her and her son. Then Logan told her to go to hell. She apologized to me on his behalf and motioned to the vacant chair next to her.
“You’ll have to excuse Logan today, Doctor Morgan. He’s been a little under the weather lately.”
“Is everything all right?” I asked, taking a seat.
She gave me a forced smile and glanced at Logan, another silent look passing between them. “I suppose I should have called you at the office or made a more formal appointment, but it isn’t often that Logan looks after me. The fact that he called you today and that you responded so quickly means a lot to me.”
Logan rolled his eyes.
Mrs. Reynolds sighed.
“What happened?” I asked.
She appeared uncertain at first.
“It’s all right, Mrs. Reynolds. I only want to help. We don’t have to talk about anything in particular, right now, if you don’t want to. But I am concerned.”
She tossed the magazine to the thick, carpeted floor. “Well, I’ve been having trouble with a man I’ve been dating at the same time I was having trouble with Logan.” She glanced at him again. “When Logan left a note saying he wanted to leave, this man threatened to do the same, and I fell apart. I couldn’t handle it, and then it seemed we might be patching things up and … ” She cast her eyes downward in embarrassment, and after several moments of reflection looked back up. “I am so very sorry for lying to you when we met in your office, Doctor Morgan. I was just trying to cope. It was wrong of me and I realize that, but I was simply reacting to my situation.”
“I can understand that. It’s a very normal response for someone under extreme stress.”
I studied her for signs of stress now, along with the erratic behavior Logan warned me about earlier. None of that seemed present. In fact, Mrs. Reynolds appeared companionable and pleasant. On the surface, I knew she wasn’t telling the entire truth, but that was expected with clients sometimes. Sometimes, it just took them a little longer to feel comfortable enough with their therapist to openly share their feelings.
“Where are my manners?” Mrs. Reynolds stood. “Can I get you something?”
“It’s not necessary.”
“It’s fine, Doctor Morgan. I truly would like to talk with you, but it is time for my early afternoon tea. I have a cup every day after lunch. Would you care to join me? I believe my maid has arranged a lovely green blend in the kitchen, and I would be more than happy to bring you some.”
It was the first ordinary thing someone had asked me to do in days and, not wanting to appear ungrateful, I agreed.
When she left the living room, I turned to Logan. “Your mother doesn’t seem ‘spooked.’ In fact, she seems in a very pleasant mood.”
Logan glanced toward the doorway and listened to the noises coming from the kitchen. “I swear something’s wrong.”
“What do you think is wrong?”
“She wasn’t like this before you came. She was freaking, big time, saying stuff about how the only way she could resolve anything was if she got to you before Paul did. Do you know this guy, Doctor Morgan? Coz my mother made it sound like you did.”
Mrs. Reynolds returned with a gold tray laden with fine china, a sugar bowl, two filled cups and a small teapot. She handed me a cup and offered sugar, which I declined. When she settled into her chair, she mixed sugar into her own tea and sipped. I did the same. It was hot and tasted like berries.
“I am grateful we were finally able to come together,” she said, placing her tea on a nearby table. “I’ve been considering family counseling for a while now.”
“To be honest, Mrs. Reynolds — ”
“Please, call me Casey.”
“Logan said you were upset before I got here, Casey, and that’s the primary reason I came today. Did something happen?”
“Logan has a tendency to exaggerate. I was watching a television program, one of those reality shows, and I guess I got a little passionate about it.”
I glanced at Logan, waiting for a reaction, but none came.
“I’d like to provide family counseling for you both,” I said, “but, as I mentioned before, I also want to make sure that everything is okay. I’d also like to use this time to better understand your relationship with Logan, if you’re open to that.”
“That would be nice.”
I placed my half-empty cup on a nearby table and the room swayed as I sat up. I braced myself until the dizziness passed and tried listening to what Casey was saying but was having difficulty concentrating on her words. I felt memories tug at me again, trying to pull me back in time, and I wondered if this was what Galen meant when he said his own regression hadn’t been easy.
The dizziness passed and Casey’s voice eased back in. “I would like to talk about Paul first, if you don’t mind.” She placed her empty cup beside mine. “He’s the gentleman I’ve been dating and, well, Logan hasn’t exactly warmed up to him. I believe he is one of the primary reasons there’s a rift between me and my son.”
“You’re so full of shit,” Logan said. “We had a rift before Paul came around.” He looked at me. “In case you didn’t figure it out, Paul’s also my mother’s psychiatrist.”
My mouth went dry as I received confirmation that Paul had lied to me about his relationship with Casey.
“Have you been seeing Paul for a while?” I asked.
“About two months.” Casey refilled her tea and looked at me through the steam that curled up from the cup as she drank. “I know you had a relationship with him, too. Paul told me about it.”
A burning sensation tore through my stomach and I swallowed over my growing distress. “Did you know that a sexual relationship between a psychiatrist and patient is unethical and grounds for suspension or revocation of license?”
Casey put her cup and saucer down again. “Ye
s, and that’s why I came to you initially for help.”
I thought back to the excuse she’d used, about Logan committing suicide, when she first contacted me a few days ago. “Why lie about it?” I asked.
“Told you that already,” Logan said. “She was trying to get your attention.”
Casey sighed. “Paul started threatening me, saying he wanted to end the relationship, and I was afraid he might get abusive and I didn’t know what to do about it.”
“Did he get physical with you?”
“No, but I was worried that he might. And that’s why I lied to get your attention, but it was only because I knew he had an affair with you and I hoped you would help me because you’d known him so intimately. For obvious reasons, I couldn’t come right out and say what I needed from you because I couldn’t risk Paul losing his ability to practice psychiatry.”
She swallowed and her features softened with tenderness and affection. It was then I realized Casey was in love with Paul.
“Given that Paul has threatened you, Casey, I’d like to discuss him in more detail. I think there are some things you need to know.” I dug into my back pocket and fumbled for his cell phone. I blinked several times, trying to fight double vision and another bout of dizziness, and finally tugged it free. “This is important to me because he’s been threatening me, and he’s been using his cell phone to do it.”
Logan moved in to get a better look and took the phone from my hands. “That’s not Paul’s cell. That’s the phone David snagged from me yesterday before the cops took me in. It belongs to my mother.”
The burning sensation crawled up from my stomach into my throat. “I don’t understand.”
I waited for an explanation but was overcome by a feverish sweat that left my skin wet and clammy. I blinked through a haze that distorted Casey’s features, splitting her into two women and then three. She was looking at me. I glanced at the teacups and saw six of them, and tasted the remnants of the green tea in my mouth along with a subtle bitterness I didn’t notice before.
In This Life Page 18