“Okay, then, as you get older, you experience changes that may make you think there’s something wrong but which are quite normal. The speed with which you process information may decline and your memory won’t be what it used to be. For instance, you’ll be talking about an old movie and you’ll be able to visualize the face of the star, but you won’t be able to recall her name. It’s on the tip of your tongue, but it’s as elusive as smoke. Then, two hours later, the name will come to you. That type of memory problem is worrisome, but it’s quite normal in older people and should not interfere with their ability to function normally. It’s only when changes do interfere with normal functioning that an individual is experiencing a medical problem.”
“What about the situations I just told you about?”
“I can’t give an opinion in a vacuum.”
“Can you tell me the common symptoms of dementia so I can try to figure out if my friend has a problem?”
“You should not be diagnosing your friend’s condition. You need a professional to do that. There are tests designed to distinguish a serious problem from problems associated with normal aging. But I can tell you what to look for so you can decide if your friend might need professional help.”
“Go ahead,” Robin said as she took out a notepad and started writing.
Winter repeated a lot of the information Robin had picked up during her Web search.
“If I come to the conclusion that my friend really needs help,” Robin asked when Winter was finished, “what should I do? Should I confront him or get a doctor to talk to him?”
“Is this person involved in important work that can affect other people?”
Robin hesitated. Then she nodded.
“Do you think his condition could affect these people adversely?”
“It … That could happen.”
“There are several approaches you can take. You can partner with people your friend trusts who have seen his odd behavior and are worried about his competence. You should consider having a nonconfrontational meeting with your friend and the other concerned people. It’s very important that you avoid confrontation. You might tell your friend you’re concerned and hope he won’t think you’re interfering but that you’re worried about him. Or you could say you’ve noticed that he hasn’t been himself lately. Get your friend to talk and do not lecture. Be gentle and respectful and tell him about specific instances where his behavior worried you.”
“What if my friend isn’t persuaded?”
“It’s not unusual for people in the early stages of dementia to be in denial, so you might suggest an assessment by a specific professional and have contact information ready. He might reject the help initially, but remember that trying to help is a process and not a onetime event. Is this useful?”
“Very. You’ve given me a lot to think about,” Robin said as she stood up.
“Good. Please get back to me if you have any other questions.”
“I will.”
Robin felt overwhelmed as she walked back to her office. Was Regina showing signs of dementia or was she just being forgetful? Robin hadn’t known her for long. Jeff had, and he didn’t seem concerned. Robin decided to wait and continue observing Regina’s behavior before doing anything rash. If she started talking to her boss about her concerns and she was wrong, she could be fired. But she also had an obligation to Regina’s clients to make certain that they had competent representation. If Robin’s worst fears about Regina turned out to be true, Alex Mason could die.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Jeff Hodges hated stakeouts even when he was a cop. They usually led nowhere and the bad coffee he’d drink to stay awake gave him heartburn and made him have to pee. If you were with another cop, you could run to a bathroom, but his stakeout of the Mason estate was solo, so he’d had to bring a jug to pee in.
Jeff had been prying into Allison’s life and had concluded that it was pretty boring. She’d kept working even after marrying Alex, and her life outside of work consisted of trips to her gym, the Westmont Country Club, and the places she shopped. Allison did go for drinks with a few women from work, but when she went to the Westmont or to parties, it was usually with Alex’s friends and associates.
Allison stopped going to work when Alex was arrested and had left only a few times during Jeff’s surveillance. When she went out, she wore dark glasses, jeans, and a baseball cap to hide her identity. All the publicity generated by her husband’s arrest had brought a hoard of reporters to the entrance of her estate. They disappeared after a few days, but Jeff imagined that it would be an ordeal for her each time she went anywhere in public.
Jeff was starting to think the stakeout was a bad idea, when Allison drove out of her driveway a little after ten at night. He kept his lights off and followed her taillights until she drove onto the freeway. She got off near the airport and parked in the shadows of a hotel parking lot. Jeff pulled in after her and parked. Then he waited until she was walking toward the hotel to follow her. Allison went in a side door. She avoided reception and went straight to the elevators. Jeff hung back and watched the lights, which told him that the elevator was stopping on the third floor.
Jeff raced up the stairs and was just in time to see Allison disappear into a room at the end of the hall. When the door closed, he got the room number and went to the lobby. It was late and there was no one at reception except for a sleepy clerk.
“Hi,” Jeff said. “I’d like a room and a four A.M. wake-up call. I’ve got a six o’clock flight.”
Jeff registered and started to leave. Then he stopped and turned back.
“I almost forgot. There’s a guy flying with me. He wanted a call, too.”
Jeff looked embarrassed. “We’re both with Nike, but I only met him two days ago. I think his first name is Ralph, but I don’t remember his last name. He’s staying in three twenty.”
The clerk checked her computer and frowned. “I don’t show anyone named Ralph staying in three twenty.”
“I’m sure he said three twenty, and we can’t afford to miss this flight. Maybe I got the first name wrong, too. Who has that room?”
“It’s registered to Jacob Heller.”
“No, that’s not his name.”
Jeff sighed. “I feel like an idiot. I’m going to have to call my boss and get the right name. He’s going to be pissed, but we have to be on that flight.”
Jeff pretended to go up to his room. When he was certain that the clerk wasn’t looking, he went back to his car and turned on his laptop. He was certain that he’d heard Heller’s name before. A search for the name Jacob Heller revealed that Heller was a lawyer, and Jeff recognized him as soon as he saw his photograph. Jeff had been in the spectator section at Alex Mason’s bail hearing and Heller was the attorney who had approached Regina to tell her that he was representing Allison Mason in her divorce.
Why was Allison Mason meeting her divorce attorney in a hotel instead of in his office? The obvious answer was that they had more than an attorney-client relationship.
Jeff settled in for a long night, but the sound of a car motor starting jerked his heavy eyelids open. He checked his watch. Allison and Heller had been together for an hour—definitely enough time for some extramarital hanky-panky. Jeff waited until Allison was halfway out of the lot before following her back to her house. He watched her car disappear around a curve in the driveway before heading home.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Robin was working on a brief that was due in the Oregon Court of Appeals when Jeff walked into her office.
“I have an idea that I want to test out. How do you feel about taking a trip to the scene of the crime?”
“Whisper Lake?”
“Yup.”
“Why do you want to go there?”
“I’m not gonna tell you because I don’t want to prejudice you.”
“Won’t you even give me a hint?”
“Nope, but I will give you the photographs of the cabin. Study them and s
ee if you see what I see.”
* * *
During the two-hour trip from Portland to Whisper Lake, the scenery morphed from urban sprawl to thick, verdant forests and views of majestic snowcapped mountains. It turned out that Jeff had wrestled in high school and was a big fan of boxing and MMA, so they talked sports for a while. Each time Robin looked toward Jeff, she noticed his scars. One time, Jeff’s hair moved away from his ear when he turned his head and she saw the remnants of what she supposed was plastic surgery.
During a lull in the conversation, Robin mustered her courage.
“Do you mind if I ask you how you were injured?”
Jeff smiled. “I was wondering how long it would take you.”
Robin blushed, and Jeff laughed.
“Don’t worry. I’m used to the question. I joined the Washington County police after college and I took part in a raid on a meth lab. There was an explosion that put me in the hospital for quite a while. The doctors repaired most of the damage, but my leg was really busted up and I had to retire. Shortly after I finished rehab, I learned that Regina was looking for an investigator. I’ve been with her ever since.”
“Thanks for telling me.”
Jeff shrugged. “It’s not a big secret. I’ve adjusted to my physical limitations and the scars. It’s other people who have a hard time with it.”
Robin smiled. “You don’t look so bad.”
Jeff laughed again. “Well, thanks, ma’am. Some of the ladies actually think it’s sexy.”
It was Robin’s turn to laugh.
“So, since we’re getting personal,” Jeff said, “what do you do besides work and work out?”
“Not much,” Robin replied with a sigh. “Law school, MMA, and my clerkship haven’t left me much time for socializing.”
“So no boyfriends?”
“My, we are getting personal.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not hitting on you. I’m just making small talk.”
“No boyfriends at the current time,” Robin said. “There was a guy from my gym in New Haven and a law professor.”
Jeff turned his head.
“Don’t look so surprised. I was never in any of his classes.”
“What happened?”
Robin shrugged. “I moved west and he wanted tenure. It wasn’t that serious anyway.”
Before Jeff could reply, they passed a road sign that said that Whisper Lake was fourteen miles away.
“We’re almost there,” Jeff said.
“And you still won’t tell me why we’re making this trip?”
“Nope. I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”
* * *
Alex Mason’s summer retreat stood under a clear, sunlit sky on the shore of a deep blue lake rimmed by towering evergreens. Robin found it difficult to reconcile the idyllic setting with the horrific crimes that had been committed inside Mason’s cabin.
“I’ve looked at the crime-scene photos and I still don’t understand what we’re looking for,” Robin said when they got out of Jeff’s car.
The investigator flashed a wicked grin. “You’re not going to let a community college grad one-up an Ivy Leaguer, are you?”
Robin gave Jeff the finger. Jeff laughed as he opened the door with the key Regina had given him. Robin followed Jeff through the front door into a large living room. To one side were steps leading to the second story. Then there was a hall that separated the living room from the kitchen. Robin knew what was midway down that hall and her gut tightened.
After exploring every part of the house but the places Jeff wanted her to see, he led Robin into the hall and pushed open the door to the room where Meredith Fenner had been held. The curtains were up and the sun’s rays shone on an empty space where the bed had been. The evidence in the torture room had been transported to the crime lab along with the other physical evidence found in the house, so there were no bloodstained sheets on the floor or any other furniture in the room. Even though the room was sterile, Robin still hesitated. Then she took a breath and walked around it, searching for some clue that would tell her why Jeff wanted her at Whisper Lake.
“I don’t see anything that helps Alex’s case,” Robin said when she had studied every inch of the room.
“Then let’s look at the closet where Meredith was held before she escaped.”
Jeff walked to the end of the hall. The lock on the closet door had been broken by Meredith’s kick and the door was halfway open. Jeff walked into the closet and tugged at a string connected to a lightbulb. Dim light illuminated a claustrophobic interior. Jeff fanned the closet with the beam from his flashlight, finally bringing it to rest on a jagged nail that protruded from the floorboards.
“Do you remember the crime-scene photos of the floorboards?” Jeff asked.
“Sort of,” Robin replied as she leaned over Jeff’s shoulder.
“What do you see?” he asked her.
“I assume that this is the nail that Meredith used to cut through the duct tape that had bound her wrists.”
“Yes. Do you see anything interesting?”
Robin scrutinized the nail for a few minutes before giving up.
“Look at the other nails,” Jeff said as he pointed the beam from the flashlight at the other nails that had secured the floorboards to the wall. All Robin could see was the flat tops.
“I still don’t get it,” Robin said.
“The nail Meredith used to escape was jimmied, so the sharp end was sticking out.”
Jeff straightened up and pointed at the lock. “Now look at the lock itself. This door is pretty frail, but someone made it easier to kick out the lock by chiseling away at the area around it.”
“What are you getting at?”
“What did the first two victims have in common?”
Robin thought for a moment. “It wasn’t race. It would have to be their profession.”
Jeff nodded. “They were both ladies of the night. What does Meredith Fenner have in common with them?”
Robin concentrated but came up blank. “Nothing.”
“Exactly! She’s a clean-cut young woman with a steady job and no criminal record. Do you see what that means?”
Robin thought for a moment, then shook her head.
“If Alex Mason is innocent, would you agree that there is a high probability that Allison Mason set him up?”
“That’s how I’m leaning.”
“So what would she need to frame him?”
“Oh shit!” Robin said.
Jeff grinned.
“She would need a clean-cut young woman with a steady job who would be an unimpeachable witness,” Robin said.
“You get a gold star,” Jeff said. “Here’s what I think. Allison needs Alex to be a horrifying serial killer. She and her male accomplice kidnap two prostitutes and torture and kill them at the cabin so that the police will have evidence that incriminates the owner. Then they kidnap Meredith. They torture her, but they don’t leave her tied to the bed, where she would have no chance to escape. Instead, they leave her with her wrists loosely duct-taped in a closet next to a sharp nail she can use to cut through her bonds and they weaken the door so she can break out and flee to the police. Once she identifies the cabin, Mason’s goose is cooked.”
Robin thought for a moment. Then she frowned.
“Something about the idea that Allison has been conspiring to frame Alex for murder bothers me. This scheme seems pretty elaborate. Why didn’t she just kill him?”
“She’d be the prime suspect.”
“That’s true, but if she is after Mason’s money, she didn’t even have to kill anyone to get it. All she had to do is what she’s already done, file for divorce. She’s going to get a healthy chunk of his dough when the divorce is final.”
Jeff’s shoulders slumped. “I never thought about that.”
“I’m not saying you’re wrong, but committing murder and kidnapping seems like a lot of trouble to put yourself through to get money you can get anyway with n
o risk. If Regina proves that Allison is really the bad guy, Allison could end up on death row.”
“You’re right. But, if Allison didn’t frame Alex…”
Robin nodded. “Alex could be guilty after all. And if he isn’t guilty, who is Allison’s male accomplice? You’ve told me that you don’t think it’s Arnold Prater. Do you have a viable alternative?”
“Actually, I might. I used my contacts at the phone company to get the records for Allison’s cell phone.”
“That’s legal?”
Jeff answered with a raised eyebrow and a smug grin.
“All right, I don’t need to know.”
“You are wise beyond your years. It must be all that ninja training.”
“Go on, asshole.”
Jeff grinned. Then he sobered. “Allison made several calls to Jacob Heller, her divorce lawyer.”
“What’s so odd about that?”
“Heller is not only Allison’s divorce attorney; he’s also a member of the Westmont Country Club, the son of old Portland money, and close to Allison’s age. Oh, and by the way, I followed Allison to a hotel near the airport two nights ago. She stayed for an hour. Want to guess who was registered in the room she stayed in?”
“Heller?”
“Bingo. I work with some local PIs when I need help, and one of them is watching Heller. It will be very interesting if he and Allison meet up again.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Regina was scared. She was used to being in control, but right now she didn’t know what to do and she was getting more panicky by the minute. She had been driving home from her gym and had to make a detour because of a street closure. As soon as she deviated from her normal route, she had gotten disoriented and couldn’t figure out how to get home. Then she saw a large shopping mall. She parked and went into a restaurant to ask directions to the freeway. Someone had drawn a crude map on a napkin for her and she’d left the restaurant. That’s when she realized that she didn’t remember where she had parked.
“Ma’am?”
Regina turned. Standing behind her was a teenager, who was watching her with kind eyes that radiated concern. The girl was dressed in a waitress uniform and looked familiar, but Regina could not remember where she’d seen her before.
The Third Victim Page 13