by Greg Iles
“Who is it?” asked Grant.
“Probably some guy wanting to pressure-wash the house,” Warren muttered. “There’s a beat-up pickup parked at the end of the sidewalk.”
Wild hope flashed through her at the thought of Danny’s old Ford pickup.
“Jesus Christ,” Warren said, his whole body tensing at the window.
“What?” Laurel asked, her heart beating against her sternum.
Warren turned from the window, his face pale with fury. “It’s Kyle Auster.”
• • •
Ever since talking to Dr. Shields, Nell had been terrified that he would call back and speak to her sister. If he repeated some of the things Nell had told him, Vida would flip out. And Vida angry was not something anybody wanted to deal with. At sixteen, she’d become too much for even their father. But Dr. Shields hadn’t called back, nor had Dr. Auster reappeared. Vida kept leaving the reception desk and then coming back. The lights in the office had blinked a couple times, and once they’d gone off completely for a full minute, which kicked the computers into emergency-power mode. When Nell asked what was going on, Vida had just put her finger to her lips and smiled.
Now Vida returned from one of her little excursions and slid her chair right up to Nell’s. She smelled of rubbing alcohol.
“What’s going on?” Nell asked. “I’m nervous as a cat.”
Vida smiled and ran her hand through Nell’s hair the way their mother used to do. “So pretty. So dark and fine.”
“Vi—”
“Shhh. I want you to get your purse and go home, sweetie. Right now.”
Nell drew back in surprise. “Go home? Now?”
Vida nodded. “Things are getting out of hand. I don’t want you around here for the last act.”
Nell felt a surge of concern for her sister. “What’s going to happen?”
“Nothing too bad. I told you there were revenue agents watching the office. There’s more coming to close us down this evening.”
Nell blinked in disbelief. “Close us down?”
“Yep. Padlock the building.”
Nell shook her head like a child hearing that her parents’ home was about to be repossessed. “But . . . are you saying it’s over? Everything?”
Vida smiled again. “I wouldn’t say that. You know I always keep a card or two up my sleeve. But the easy part’s over with. You need to get home, throw some clothes in an overnight bag—nothing too big—then go down to the bank and take out your money.”
Nell’s anxiety escalated into outright fear. “All of it?”
“You’ve got most of the liquid part in your brokerage accounts, right? With UBS?”
“Yes, just like you told me.”
“The government may have frozen those accounts, but I doubt it. They wouldn’t want to tip their hand. They’d freeze Kyle and Warren’s money first, not ours. Your real money’s in the house in Texas anyway, and they can’t take that from you. That’s where you should go. Withdraw about eight thousand in cash and light out in your car. Tell the girls at the bank you’re buying a used car and the seller wants cash. If things get dicey here, I’ll call your cell phone. If that happens, stop in Baton Rouge and get on a plane to Cancún. I don’t care what it costs, just haul tail. South of the border, you hear me?”
Nell nodded, but she was close to crying. “What about Dr. Shields?”
“He’s going to be fine, baby. Don’t you worry about Warren. Kyle’s on his way over there now to take out the stuff he planted.”
“You promise?”
“Honey, I scared the bejesus out of Kyle. That stuff is probably already in a Dumpster somewhere.”
Nell wiped away her tears, but more followed.
“I tell you, though,” Vida said thoughtfully, “there may be trouble in paradise.”
“What do you mean?”
“Kyle thinks Laurel and Warren are having marital problems. You think maybe you could be part of the reason for that?”
“Oh my God, no,” Nell protested, wishing it were true. “No way.”
• • •
Warren stood rigid in the foyer, his left hand clutching Laurel’s wrist, his right hand holding his gun. The doorbell rang again, for the sixth time. Kyle had obviously seen the cars in the driveway and did not intend to go away. Laurel wondered why Warren didn’t simply answer the door.
Then she saw why.
There was a scratching sound in the lock, and the bolt turned with a decisive snick. He backed her against the wall, so that they would be behind the door if it opened. The lock in the doorknob turned next. Then the door opened about twelve inches. Kyle stuck his head through the crack and looked toward the stairs.
The barrel of Warren’s gun touched his temple. “Come on in, partner,” Warren said softly. “Nice and easy.”
Auster stepped inside with his hands up and his eyes wide. If he hadn’t stuck his head in first, Laurel might not have recognized him. The noted clotheshorse was wearing garments that looked as if they’d been bought at the Salvation Army store downtown. And he stank.
“What the hell are you wearing?” Warren asked.
“This is my new look,” Kyle said, but the fear in his voice killed his attempt at levity.
Warren studied him for a few seconds, then said, “It’s a disguise, isn’t it?”
Auster nodded, his face downcast.
“You decided you wanted that quickie after all?”
“Hell no,” Auster replied, slowly lowering his hands. “That’s not why I’m here. I knew that was a joke.”
“You’ve got a key to our house, though, huh?”
“You gave it to me. Don’t you remember? I fed your dog when y’all went to the Bahamas that time.”
Warren thought about this. “You gave that key back.”
“Well, I had a copy made. In case I lost the original. You know I’m always losing my keys. I didn’t want your kids’ dog to starve because I can’t keep up with anything.”
Warren looked at Laurel. “He’s a compulsive liar. Did you know that? I’ve seen him lie to patients, drug reps, other doctors, anybody—even when he doesn’t have to. It’s like an addiction or something.”
Kyle wasn’t listening. His full attention was on the pistol. “Warren, man . . . what’s with the gun?”
“I want truthful answers. This helps.”
It hasn’t helped so far, Laurel thought.
Auster looked at him long and hard. “No offense, buddy, but have you lost your mind? There’s no need for this kind of theatrics. We’re all friends here, right?”
“I lost my mind the day I went to work for you,” Warren said in a somber voice. “Only I didn’t know it.”
“Come on, partner. What kind of talk is that?”
“Straight talk.”
Auster held up his hands as though he knew where Warren was headed. “Look, I don’t need a Boy Scout lecture, okay? I’m a lost cause. Anyway, I thought you gave up all that Dudley Do-Right stuff last year. Huh?”
Laurel had no idea what Kyle was talking about, but Warren certainly seemed to. He looked as though Auster’s words had wounded him deeply. She glanced up the staircase to make sure the children hadn’t come to the rail to listen. Warren had warned them to stay in the media room, but they were so rattled, there was no telling what they might do. “Could we move this to another room?” she asked. “I don’t want the kids hearing this stuff.”
Warren grabbed Kyle’s wrist and dragged him down to the great room. Kyle was three inches taller than Warren, but Warren was in peak physical condition. Auster had spent the last twenty years going soft. They stood between the fireplace and the Roche-Bobois sectional like two boxers who might close at any moment. Laurel leaned against the sofa back and glanced over it at her computer, terrified that the Merlin’s Magic program might have cracked her password while they were upstairs. The Sony was still clicking away, but Warren seemed to have forgotten it.
“First you push me to bend the rules,” Warren sai
d. “Then to break them. Then—”
“Whoa there, Dr. Welby,” said Kyle. “Sure I tried to get you more focused on the bottom line. But when you told me to back off, I did. It was you who came to me that last time, remember? Out of the blue. ‘I need to make more money, Kyle.’ That’s what you said. And do you remember what you said after that?”
Warren had turned to stare out the tall windows. There were two rows of them, one atop the other, and through them Laurel saw the pale, virginal green of early spring in the budding leaves. A hundred yards from the house, Christy trotted toward the line of trees that marked the creek’s ravine, her orange coat giving her the appearance of a well-fed fox. Only the darkening sky kept the picture from being perfect. It seemed that Mrs. Elfman’s augury of rain might be proved accurate after all.
“You said, ‘I don’t care how you do it,’ ” Kyle continued. “ ‘Just don’t tell me about it.’ “
Warren scowled at him. “I didn’t mean for you to—”
“I know what you meant, brother. So I doubled your income, and you took the money. And here we are. That’s the way it works.”
Laurel stared at Warren in amazement. She couldn’t imagine the words Kyle had quoted ever coming from her husband’s mouth. But apparently they had, because Warren wasn’t arguing the point.
“We’ll have to agree to disagree about that,” Warren said. “But you going behind my back to screw my wife was definitely not what I asked for.”
Auster was clearly stunned, but he was a quick study when it came to matters sexual, and Laurel could see him working out the particulars of the current situation. Her strange telephone come-on, the gun, all of it.
“You really hate me, don’t you?” Warren said.
“Hate you? Warren, I love you, brother. You’re my hero, which is weird since I’m ten years older than you. But you’ve got to be the most dedicated doctor in this town. Like a young Doc Adams on Gunsmoke or something. You think I hate you?”
Warren was studying the maple floor. Kyle took this moment to risk full eye contact with Laurel, and the words she read in his face were What the hell is wrong with him?
“It doesn’t matter,” Warren said to the floor. “Just tell me what you’re doing here.”
“What do you think?” Auster’s eyes kept darting to the gun. “You didn’t show up for work, and that was a first. We were overrun with patients, but I thought I’d take the first chance to come see how you’re doing. I’m sure Laurel’s been taking good care of you. I figured she’d be at school, though.”
Warren looked up. “You figured she was at school when she called and asked you here for a quick fuck?”
“I figured she’d gone back, I mean.”
“It’s after three, Kyle.”
Auster couldn’t hide the blood rushing to his cheeks. “Look, bro, I don’t know what’s going on over here, and I don’t want to know. You guys are having some marital discord? That’s cool. I’ve been there. Everybody has. But I’ve got nothing to do with you guys’ problems, I’m happy to say.”
Warren moved closer to him, aiming the gun from his waist. “I’m not so sure of that, buddy. Not sure at all.”
“Why not?”
“What’s happening at the office, Kyle? Nell said there are Medicaid agents coming down.”
Auster’s face twisted with exasperation. “You know the government. Always interfering. They want six sets of paperwork on every patient, and they go batshit when you don’t give it to them.”
“Stop lying, Kyle. I know why they’re coming. But I have a feeling things are even worse than you’ve told me. What have you been doing besides up-coding?”
“Nothing, man. Nothing illegal, anyway. They just . . . they don’t agree with me about the necessity of certain tests on certain patients. Maybe some procedures, too, but you know how that is. They’re pencil pushers. They don’t have any sympathy for defensive medicine, because nobody’s gonna sue their ass if a patient croaks unexpectedly.”
Laurel wasn’t sure why they were talking about work when Warren’s primary obsession had been whom she might be sleeping with, but it was clear that they were in serious trouble.
“Tell me about your girlfriend,” Warren said.
Auster looked perplexed. “My girlfriend?”
“Aren’t you planning to run away with somebody? Isn’t that what you were going to use the bearer bonds for?”
At the mention of bonds, Kyle’s mouth hung slack. Then he gulped and started talking fast. “So you found that stuff? Thank God it’s safe. Are the ledgers in there, too?”
Warren nodded slowly.
“Good, good. Because that stuff’s dangerous, man.”
“Back to your girlfriend.”
Auster seemed to have trouble following the change of subject. “You mean Vida?”
“No. Your other girlfriend.”
Auster’s eyes flicked back and forth between Warren and the gun. “You mean Shannon?”
“Shannon?”
“Yeah, the drug rep for Hoche. The one with the tits and the eyes?”
Now Warren looked confused. “You’ve been seeing Shannon Jensen?”
“Uh-huh.”
“How old is she?”
“Twenty-three. Jesus, what’s the big deal? She’s legal. Everybody asks that.”
“That’s not who I’m asking about, Kyle.”
“Who, then? Come on, man, we don’t have all day here.”
Warren tilted his head toward Laurel. Auster held out his hands like a rustler about to be hanged by angry ranchers. “Brother, I don’t know where you got this idea, but you are wrong. Way wrong.”
“What exactly have I got wrong?”
“This whole idea is ridiculous! Laurel wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole.” Kyle looked at her with complete confidence. “Would you?”
“No, I wouldn’t. I think I’ve always made that clear.”
Auster turned to Warren and held up his palms in apology. “I won’t say I never squeezed her ass at the hospital Christmas party, okay? But that’s just vodka talking. I do that because she’s hot and because I know it gets to her and because nothing’s going to come of it. Man, you don’t really think I’d try to snake your wife? That’s nothing but trouble for me. I’m gonna lose a productive partner over some tail? No way. Not in my DNA.”
Warren’s eyes flickered with a glow Laurel couldn’t read. “That kind of challenge is the cornerstone of your DNA, Kyle. But Laurel is more than the usual compulsive conquest. You’ve always been jealous of me. The way patients talk about me, the fact that so many of them request me specifically. Even the scores I made on my boards. You know you’ll never beat me at those things, so what do you do? You go after Laurel. Maybe she’s my weakness, right? If you can screw my wife and make her come, all will be right with the world. That’s how your mind works.”
Auster’s face fairly shone with disbelief. “Jesus, pal, you need to get a life. Or a psychiatrist. I don’t even try to compete with guys like you, except in income. That’s where I show my stuff. Medic for hire, that’s me. I leave the Doctors Without Borders shtick to you guys.”
“What are those bonds doing in my house?” Warren asked doggedly.
Something changed in Kyle then. The boyish facade fell away, and a weary man appeared from behind it. “We needed a storage room. That’s all. A safe one.”
“We?”
“Vida and me. It was her idea. Who was going to search your house, you know?”
“The Medicaid Fraud Unit, I imagine,” Warren said.
“That’s why I’m here. Today is the day of reckoning, partner. I came here to remove the threat, to get you and your family out of harm’s way. So why don’t you let me do what I came to do? Then you two can continue your little tête-à-tête.”
Laurel surprised herself by speaking. “What exactly is going on here? What have you two been doing at work?”
“Ask him,” said Warren. “But you don’t have to, do you?
You already know. You’re playacting just like he is.”
“Damn it,” Laurel said, “would you get over it already? I don’t know anything, and I’m sick of being in the dark. What kind of trouble have you geniuses gotten us into?”
Warren turned back to Auster. “She has a secret Hotmail account, and she refuses to give me the password. I have a special program working to crack it. If your name doesn’t pop up as her secret pen pal, then you can go.”
Rather than calming Auster down, these words sent him into apoplexy. “Are you shitting me? That could take all night! The cops could be here in five minutes! With handcuffs!”
Despite Kyle’s panic, Warren remained unmoved. “Then you’re out of luck, unless the program finishes before then.”
Kyle turned on Laurel. “Give him the fucking password.”
Warren’s eyes flashed with interest.
“Give it to him, goddamn it!” Auster screamed. “This is my life here!”
And mine, you bastard. And the life of someone I actually love. “I don’t even know the password,” she said. “Warren’s gone paranoid.”
Warren was watching Auster, trying to judge whether he was sincere or not. Without a word, Warren walked around to the coffee table, picked up Danny’s letter, then came back and held it out to Auster. “If you’re bored, here’s some reading material to pass the time.”
Kyle took the letter like someone forced to accept literature from a Hare Krishna. He scanned it quickly, then looked from Laurel to Warren. “You know I didn’t write this crap, partner.”
“Do I?”
“All that hokey can’t-live-without-you stuff? Are you kidding? You of all people should know I couldn’t even make that up. My love letters read like something out of the Penthouse Forum.”
“Maybe they did until you fell for my wife.”
Auster was turning purple. He had the face of an innocent man being dragged bodily into prison.
“Besides,” Warren went on, “I’ve recently discovered that my blushing bride might be a fan of the Penthouse Forum. She’s a closet porn addict.”
“This is insane,” Laurel muttered.
With sudden defiance, Kyle shook Danny’s letter under Warren’s nose. “This isn’t my handwriting, kemo sabe. It’s not even close.”