Traces of Guilt

by Dee Henderson

  He gave a rueful smile, then replied, “Patient confidentiality severely restricts my answer, but I do wish to be as helpful as I can. It won’t do either of us any good if I say no at this point. Allow me to attempt a reply in a broad way. I know of events that occurred, which affected this family and caused them to seek my help. I don’t know if those events had any bearing on their disappearance. I want to say they did not, but the fact is I would not be surprised to learn they did.” Like a professor in a lecture hall, he held up a restraining finger when Evie started to respond.

  “I’m willing to say this: I have closely followed the news regarding the search to locate the Florist family. I have read newspaper articles and seen television coverage. I can say with some certainty that the names of individuals which came up in conversations with the Florist family are known to the police. Names I heard referred to during our sessions I have read about in the newspaper.” Another pause. “A caveat that this would be adult individuals. Names of children which might have come up, friends of Joe, for example, would be more . . . nebulous, shall we say?” He turned to Evie. “Now, please, your question.”

  She cleared her throat. “Are the events they discussed with you—which led to them coming to see you, or which they otherwise brought to your attention as being of concern to them—also known to the police?”

  He considered her question for a good long while before answering. “In broad parameters, based on newspaper accounts, I would say yes. The details discussed might be different from the news account, or might not have been mentioned in the news account, but the events themselves were in the news. The private matters I am aware of affecting this family have not become public, and I am severely restricted in what I can say about those.”

  “A two-hour-plus session every week seems like a significant amount of time, even for a family. Wouldn’t one hour be more standard?”

  “They traveled a distance. If it’s not practical to see a patient two or three times a week, then adding time to a single session is more efficient than trying to make clinical progress in simply one hour a week.”

  Evie tilted her head slightly, pondered that, and began to lead him with how she worded her next question. “You believed clinical treatment in this instance required a two-hour block of time every week?”

  “Yes.”

  “In your clinical opinion, was two hours a week still necessary after two years?”

  “Yes.”

  She looked over her list of questions, then at the doctor. “Did you then, or do you now when looking back in light of events, consider any member of the Florist family a danger to themselves or to others?”

  He hesitated. “Let me answer it this way. The law requires I report someone who is a present danger to himself or to others. I did not report anyone.”

  “Do you have knowledge of a member of the Florist family committing a crime?”

  His body recoiled slightly as he said firmly, “I can’t answer that question.”

  “Do you believe Scott Florist killed his family?”

  His eyes flared with heat, and he leaned forward and replied in a hardened voice, “No. The same answer to the question for Susan or Joe.”

  She quickly threw in another one. “During that final Wednesday session, a day before they disappeared, did you become aware of anything that had recently occurred or recently changed, which raised a concern in your mind or suggested to you in any way that a member of the family was in crisis?”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t answer that.”

  Evie set down her pen and changed tactics. “Were you surprised when the Florist family disappeared?”

  “Very.”

  “What do you think happened to the family?”

  “I think they were going on vacation to give themselves space and breathing room for three days, and something tragic occurred, about which I have not an iota of information.”

  “Where were you on the night they disappeared?”

  He visibly relaxed. “Right, I know you must ask that. I have a rotation at Decatur Mercy Hospital every Thursday that ends at midnight. I’m the specialist on call and was in the ER during part of the particular evening in question. When I was originally waiting for a visit from police investigators, I checked my calendar to confirm this. I’ve kept that assigned slot for going on twenty years, since my wife works the same shift in the neonatal ward. From Thursday midnight to Sunday midnight, we both go off duty, off call, and have a personal life.”

  “Did one of your other clients in any way harm the Florist family?”

  He winced. “I can’t say, though it’s an interesting question for you to have thought to ask. Hypothetically, I would answer it as a no.”

  “Thank you, Richard. Those were my key questions.”

  The doctor relaxed, but Gabriel wasn’t finished yet. “Tell me, Richard,” he said with a disarming smile, “what should we have asked, hypothetically speaking or otherwise?”

  Evie picked up her fork to finish her lunch and signal the formal interview was over. Then she gave Gabriel a look that told him the actual interview was just starting. They still had forty minutes to get something useful from the doctor without being obvious they were on a fishing expedition.

  The doctor first offered a comment to Evie. “Your list, Lieutenant, seemed very well-thought-out to me, if aggressive, in its assumptions about the family.”

  “If I don’t ask, I won’t know,” she replied with a smile.

  The doctor smiled back. “Yes, I can see your point.”

  “Was Joe good at playing that video game . . . DDM?” Gabriel asked, looking for something innocuous to start the conversation moving again.

  Richard looked perplexed that they knew which game it was, then nodded. “He had a competitive streak. He’d come with notes and a plan of attack, do a victory dance when he made another level. I can appreciate a young man’s enthusiasm for competition,” the doctor replied.

  “Did he like playing baseball?”

  “Sure.”

  “Swimming?”

  “At times.”

  “I’ve been trying to understand him,” Gabriel said, “to figure out how he might have reacted to trouble happening to his parents. Was he the type to try to intervene, to freeze, to try to run, hide, or—?”

  “Hypothetically?”

  Gabriel shrugged. “Sure.”

  “I would say if he were a typical boy with a desire to be a cop like his father, he would act in ways he thought his father would approve. Of those choices you gave, he’d intervene before he thought about what might be better or wiser to do given his age and size. He should run and hide, but that would not be what his father would do, so he wouldn’t consider it for himself at first.”

  “That’s useful. Thanks.”

  The doctor nodded.

  “Would you say Scott Florist was a good cop?” Gabriel idly posed.

  The doctor grimaced. “To not answer that is to imply something I wouldn’t want to convey. He worked for your father, you saw him on the job. You would be more able to judge his abilities as a cop than I would, as all I would have to go on would be statements he made about his own performance.”

  “I’ll accept that.” Gabriel rephrased his question. “Did he consider himself to be a good cop?”

  “I can’t answer that.”

  “Did he consider himself to be a good father?” Evie asked, curious about the doctor’s reluctance on a seemingly innocuous subject.

  The doctor hesitated. “I’d say that everything Scott Florist did in life could be captured in his desire to be a good father, a good husband, a good cop. He might not live up to his expectations for himself, but he made a sincere effort to do so. He was a deliberative man.”

  Gabriel picked up on that choice of words. “Deliberative, you say . . . as in thoughtful about what he would do? Or he planned in advance what he would do?”

  Small hesitation, then, “Both.”

  “I’m guessing you also sa
w them around the holidays, birthdays, that kind of thing,” Evie mentioned.

  “Yes.”

  “Would you consider them a frugal family or a generous one?”

  The doctor smiled. “Hypothetically speaking, they were like any typical family—presents went on credit and got paid off afterwards with a touch of regret about the amounts. That’s not based on specifics, just a sense.”

  “Did they ever discuss with you stopping the weekly sessions, go to every other week, once a month, that kind of thing?” Evie asked.

  “No.”

  “The events that brought them to your office, would you say the family was in crisis when they initially came to see you?”

  He paused again, seemed to come to a decision. He nodded. “Yes. Crisis is an appropriate word.”

  Evie shot Gabriel another meaningful look. Here was where they needed to press. Gabriel lobbed the next question to the doctor. “Did the events that brought them to your office affect each person equally, or was one the center of the crisis and the others supportive?”

  “I can’t answer that.”

  “Do you feel family members were honest with you during those two-hour sessions?” Gabriel asked.

  The doctor gave a small smile, even as he sighed. “That’s a powerful question. I’m sorry, I can’t answer that. I wish I could.”

  “The disappearance of the Florist family shocked the community and led to a massive search and investigation,” Gabriel went on. “You have decades of experience in this job. Looking back, do you think the events that brought them to your office left a person out there angry enough to have killed the Florist family?”

  “I can’t answer that.”

  “Hypothetically, if you could answer it.”

  “People are affected by events—the person involved, but also their family and friends. How much something matters to a person not involved in the actual event is always a matter of degree.”

  “Someone with a degree of separation from the event might have a reason to kill the Florist family,” Gabriel said, making it a statement. “Would you agree?”

  “In a general sense, that would be true, yes. In this specific instance, I don’t know. The person involved in the initial event is dead and is not the one you would be looking to find.”

  Gabriel caught Evie’s quick glance.

  The doctor rubbed his eyes. “And since you just recorded that, let me add that as far as I know, there is no family or friends of the deceased who would have taken up the cause on his behalf against the Florist family. Believe me, I’ve considered the matter carefully. If I thought this was your solution, I would have been in touch with the authorities many years ago.”

  The doctor looked at Evie, then over to Gabriel. “You know I deal with the police on a routine basis. I’m not naïve about violent crimes and those who are likely to commit them. But I can tell you there is no line I can draw from the events I know about to someone killing the Florist family. There is no person I know about or suspect might still be out there angry enough to kill the Florist family.”

  “Richard, please. They’re gone. Give us what we need,” Evie said quietly.

  He considered her for a long moment, nodded. “Joe and Scott told me different stories regarding the same event, told me consistently the same contradictory stories for two years. Scott believed Joe did something. Joe believed Scott did something. I ended up believing both of them. They were both telling me the truth as they knew it.”

  “Did Joe or Scott kill someone?” Evie asked.

  “No.”

  “No question in your mind?”

  “None.”

  “Were they worried the other one had?” Gabriel asked, picking up the thread Evie was tugging.

  “Yes.”

  “Who’s dead?”

  “I can’t answer that.”

  “Do the police know the person is dead or are they just missing?”

  “There’s been a funeral.”

  “The father thinks his son killed someone, the son thinks his father did. Who did kill the person?” Gabriel asked.

  “As far as I know, that question remains open.”

  “We’re talking about Frank Ash, aren’t we?” Evie asked.

  The doctor merely shook his head. “I can’t answer that.”

  Gabriel looked at Evie, got a slight shake of her head in reply to his unspoken question. “I appreciate you telling us what you did in confidence, Richard,” he said to the doctor. “We’ve looked at the Frank Ash murder and believe a family member of one of his victims likely shot him. There are two boys who have admitted to being molested by him after he was released from prison.”

  The doctor nodded, looking tired. “Joe wasn’t one of them, based on what he said. He might have been had things turned out differently. He had a close call with Frank Ash, but he wasn’t lying to me about something that crucial. He was younger than Frank Ash would have preferred, given that age-preferential offenders are often rather selective. I believed Joe at the time. Nothing since has changed that assessment.”

  “Scott didn’t kill Frank Ash?”

  “No.”

  “Joe didn’t kill Frank Ash?”

  “No.”

  “Susan?”

  The doctor smiled. “Thank you for that. No, she did not.”

  “Did they know anything about who did kill Frank Ash?” Evie asked.

  “No. Which is why the son and father were at an impasse, not able to believe each other. Not knowing who killed Frank Ash, just that he was missing, they each believed it of the other. The discovery of Frank Ash’s body was a huge deal that final week. The fact his remains were found behind the truck stop convinced Scott his son wasn’t involved. The fact he had been shot three times surprised them both. No one wanted the results regarding the Frank Ash investigation more than these two. They both thought there would be answers by the time they came to see me the following week. Concrete information about who killed Frank Ash was going to be a breakthrough for their family, would solve the tangle the father and son had gotten themselves into. The plan to go away for a weekend camping trip was a relief valve while they waited for results, for the cops to come up with the one who had done it.”

  Evie said, “If no one in the Florist family killed Frank Ash, regardless of what they had suspected of each other over the years, there would be no one associated with Frank Ash who would have reason to take revenge and kill the Florist family.”

  The doctor nodded. “Which is why I never contacted the authorities. There is no person out there angry enough over what happened to Frank Ash to take the huge risk of murdering the Florist family. Their involvement existed only in what Joe and Scott thought the other had done. I’m sorry. I’ve basically given you a rabbit trail down a hole that goes nowhere.”

  “Nothing in that final Wednesday session raised a concern with you?” Gabriel asked, letting his doubts show. “Scott and Joe were both relieved Frank Ash’s body had been recovered? Both were looking forward to seeing you the following week with whatever the investigation would have found?”

  “Scott was visibly relieved,” Richard assured Gabriel. “That the body was found behind the truck stop some distance from their home convinced Scott his son couldn’t have been involved. And that Ash was shot rather wildly three times in the chest, and it appeared to be with a .22, got Joe to agree that such a shooting would be very unlike his dad, who was trained to shoot in tight groupings and only owned large-caliber handguns. Scott expected forensics to run the slugs, match up with a gun, and find another case that would put a name to who had killed Frank Ash. They needed that name.

  “Scott was the one to suggest the camping trip. He wanted Joe to be assured his dad wouldn’t be near the autopsy or the recovered bullets, wouldn’t be around to taint the evidence, so his son would believe him when that evidence confirmed it hadn’t been him. It was important for the father and son to start rebuilding trust between them, and that was the point of the camping trip
, to start that process in earnest.”

  Gabriel was willing to accept that the doctor had talked himself into this version of the final Wednesday session with the Florist family. Gabriel also thought the whole thing was at best a major headache in the making. However this proceeded—figuring out who killed Frank Ash—would now be on the must-solve board. He shot a look at Evie and could tell she agreed they had all they were going to get.

  Evie stood and offered her hand. “Richard, I want to thank you for the conversation. It has been helpful, if only to understand what was on their minds that final week.”

  He smiled and rose, shook her hand, obviously trying to regroup, no doubt mentally rewinding the tape on all he’d shared. “I do wish you all the best in finding out what happened to the Florist family. Frank Ash is what brought them to my office and why they continued to see me until they disappeared. But I can’t figure out a reason they were killed that could link to Frank Ash. Whatever did happen, it is truly a tragedy.”

  “It is that,” Gabriel agreed, shaking the man’s hand. “We both appreciate your time.”

  Evie clicked off the recorder and slipped it into her bag with her notepad of questions.

  “Do you have a headache?” Gabriel asked, pocketing his wallet after paying the parking fee.

  Evie looked over and laughed. “I was about to ask you the same question. Please tell me there are effective pain-killers in our near future.”

  “I’m in desperate need of them. Lunch was good, but that spider web of an interview left me spinning like a trapped fly. I’ll find a pharmacy.”

  “We passed a 7-Eleven at the first stoplight.”

  He nodded and soon pulled in. Evie unfastened her seat belt. “Back soon. Caffeine or decaf for your soda?”

  “Make it caffeine—it’s a fairly long drive.”

  She returned and generously passed over the first two Tylenol from the bottle before she palmed a couple for herself. “Please protect me from doctors who don’t want to say too much, who know a lot more and are bursting to say what they actually know.”