The Unforgivable Fix: A Justice Novel

by T. E. Woods

  Lydia’s feet and hands wanted to spring into action. She wanted to eliminate this threat seated on her sofa. But she was Mort’s daughter. She couldn’t just roll her off the cliff like she had the earlier invaders. “What is it you think you know, Allie?”

  Allie’s nose wrinkled. “You really need me to do this? Like some sixth-grade math teacher who wants me to show my work? Can’t you just admit the fact you’re a gun for hire, so we can get on with a really interesting conversation?”

  Lydia said nothing.

  Allie sighed. “All right. It all started that night those wolves came by. You came into the kitchen as cool as a cucumber, told me to head off to my room, lock the door, and not come out. You took complete charge in a scary situation. I wondered about it at the time, but now I realize it’s because if anyone knows how to handle a dangerous situation, it’s you.”

  “I’ve lived here a long time. Critters come.”

  “Yeah, right. And then there was that gun! For fuck’s sake, Lydia. My eyes just about bugged out of my head, I was so freaked out. But my dad didn’t even blink when I told him about the firepower you were packing.”

  “Your father explained that.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Again with living out here in the woods. See? This is what I mean when I say people shouldn’t underestimate me. I knew he was lying the minute he started spinning the tale. He gets a hollowness in his voice when he lies. And when he was telling me about wildlife of the greater Olympia area, he sounded like he was in an empty tunnel.”

  “Perhaps your father just wanted you to keep your nose out of things.”

  “I might believe what you’re saying if that was the only gun you had. But I gotta tell you, your house is one big arsenal. I went into your pantry looking for flour. Imagine my surprise when I found a pistol behind the pasta. Or that gun in the linen closet. I don’t know what the heck that thing is next to the refrigerator in the garage, but I can tell there are bullets in it. Lots of them. You’ve got more guns and knives stashed around this house than any one person would need. And I don’t care what kind of foxes or bears may be hiding in the bushes.”

  “How I defend my home is no concern of yours, Allie. You asked me once if I was paranoid.” Lydia could feel her efforts crumbling. Allie knew. There would be no convincing her otherwise.

  “I knew something was up,” Allie continued. “I just wasn’t sure what. So I started thinking. You and Dad say you’re friends.”

  “We are. We met when our interests in the same case overlapped.” Perhaps there was still time to steer her off this course.

  “I remember.” Allie pointed to the book. “Robbie mentions that. You were Savannah’s psychologist and worried she might be involved in that murder of the professor guy. At first I thought maybe Savannah was The Fixer. But the more I thought about that, the less sense it made.”

  Lydia felt the room grow smaller. She was trapped. She willed herself to stay calm and let Allie spin out her theories.

  “My dad is very loyal to his friends. He keeps his circle tight. Mainly, they’re cops, like Jimmy and Micki. But he’s got Uncle Larry, too. Do you know him? He’s the guy my dad does crossword puzzles with on Thursdays.”

  “I think I’ve met him once.”

  “Exactly!” Allie sounded pleased that Lydia had just made her point. “I was trying to figure out why Dad would venture outside of the cop world to develop a new friend. Especially one as young as you. Then I realized you’re not in my father’s circle.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like I said, Dad keeps his circle tight. Jimmy, Micki, Larry, they all know one another. They all go to the same bar, eat the same pizza. They all have pictures of Robbie and his girls on their desks. They come over for cookouts and they watch sports together. My dad likes it that way. He always has. He probably likes it even more now that Mom’s dead.”

  “How would you know what your father’s like since your mother died?” Lydia hoped a counterattack might steer Allie off topic. Instead, she just huffed out a laugh and plowed on.

  “My father is one of the last of the Steady Eddies. He doesn’t change. If you were a friend of his, Lydia, you’d be drinking beer at the Crystal. You’d have pictures of my nieces plastered on your refrigerator. That’s how Mort Grant rolls. The two of you are something, but it’s not friends. Dad has a lot of love for you. But something’s off. Something that keeps him from intermingling you with his crew. I still couldn’t figure it out. Then came the final link. It was like opening a lock.”

  Lydia needed to hear how she’d made herself vulnerable. “What was that?”

  “It was when Patrick didn’t make an appearance at Dad’s new houseboat. I’d made the call, set it up, and everyone was waiting for him. Remember that?”

  Lydia numbly nodded her head.

  “Well, Dad went ballistic. Said someone had tipped off Patrick and the DEA was going to get to the bottom of it. My dad said there was a very short list of people who knew the plan and they were going to investigate each one.” Allie sounded like a bright student who just figured out a difficult assignment. “You and Dad were on that list, of course. Lydia, I remember you turned pale. Dad put his hand on yours. You squeezed it and said, ‘They’ll find out everything.’ You were scared. I went to bed that night wondering why. By the time I finished Robbie’s book I had it. You’re The Fixer. Dad cracked the case, like he does every one. But he decided not to turn you in.” Allie looked Lydia up and down. “I needed to be sure. So I came up with a little test. Remember when I asked you about that pub off the coast of Bali?”

  Lydia stiffened. Of course she remembered.

  “The Conch and Bull Feathers.” Allie shrugged. “You told me you must have heard about it on a travel show, but you came up with that name so reflexively. I knew from Robbie’s book that The Fixer had been seen with one of her targets in that very bar.”

  There was no point continuing the charade. “What do you plan to do with this information, Allie?”

  “Nothing.” Allie looked stunned by the question. “And for goodness’ sake, let’s not let Daddy know. It can be our little secret. Like sisters keeping something from the parents. It would freak him out if he realized I knew he was committing a crime by not turning you in. He’s big on that whole role-model thing.” Her voice softened. “You and my dad are good for one another. Maybe he sees you as the daughter he could save. And I’d love it if you can be that for him. He deserves that.”

  “And you? What do you deserve?”

  “I guess that goes back to my original question. Do you think people can truly change who they are?”

  Lydia looked at the clock. It was nearly ten o’clock. “Go to bed, Allie.”

  “Lydia, please.” Her eyes begged for an answer. “Can we really change?”

  Lydia got up, took her glass to the sink, and rinsed it clean. She walked off to her room and closed the door behind her.

  Chapter 46

  Lydia sat behind her desk, let her eyes drift around her office, and remembered how the leaded windows, hardwood floors, and high ceilings of the converted mansion had called out to her the first time she saw the space. The rooms had an aura of stability and strength, and as a new therapist, Lydia had believed her patients would feel safe enough there to trust in the treatment she had been trained to provide.

  But it’s not safe here anymore. I’m not safe anywhere. Allie knows who I am. Federal agents will arrest her soon. I’m her prime bargaining chip. Would it matter to her that bringing me down would land her father in jail as well?

  It was still dark outside. Lydia had wanted to come in early and experience a few moments of quiet before her day started. She didn’t know how many she had left.

  I can’t kill her. She’ll soon be in the hands of the DEA. Justice will find her. She cursed her thinking. I have your answer, Allie. My first reaction when I realized there was no dissuading you from believing I was The Fixer was to kill you. So I’d have to say people like
us really can’t change. She thought of her patients…her home on the cliff overlooking the sea…the wounded owl. Oh, but I so wanted to believe I could.

  The sound of the front door opening pulled her out of her reflections. She glanced at the clock. It was not quite seven thirty. She wasn’t expecting her first patient until noon. She slid her side drawer open and waited in silence.

  Footsteps approached. She laid her right hand over the gun. The hall light flicked on.

  Zach Edwards took two steps into her office, looked up, and stutter-stepped back when he saw Lydia sitting at her desk.

  “Dr. Corriger! You scared me. I didn’t expect you here this early.”

  Zach tossed his briefcase down on the sofa, shrugged off his woolen coat, and began to unwind several feet of knitted scarf from around his neck.

  “I scheduled Eric Scheull this morning at eight. Good news. He finally got a job. He doesn’t want to risk anything by taking time off to see me, so I made this early morning time available. I hope you don’t mind. I checked and saw you were free this morning. Is it okay for me to use the office?”

  I may not be able to keep myself safe, but I can still protect my patients.

  “That’s not going to work.”

  Zach looked bewildered. “You have someone coming in?” He stood with his hands in the pockets of his secondhand corduroys. “I guess I could see Eric out in the waiting room. Of course I don’t know how I’ll record the session for you. Would it be okay to skip it?”

  “I don’t need any more of your recordings. I’ll be here when Eric comes. I’ll let him know you won’t be seeing him today.”

  Zach’s eyes widened in a question. He moved to take a seat across from Lydia’s desk.

  “Don’t bother. You’ll be leaving.”

  He pulled himself upright. “What’s going on?” He looked around as though the answer was floating in the air. “Is something wrong?”

  She recalled her promise to Paul Bauer.

  “I received a call yesterday.” Lydia assembled the lie as she spoke. “A faculty member who supervised you down in Oregon. There seem to be significant discrepancies between what your résumé says you’ve done and what you actually have. I’m quite concerned.”

  Zach’s brow furrowed. “One of my supervisors? Which one? Dr. Corriger, I can assure you everything on my résumé is accurate. There must be some mistake.”

  Lydia nodded. “Perhaps. But until I know for certain, I can’t have you seeing patients. I’m sure you understand.”

  Zach’s voice trembled. “No. No, I don’t understand. Who said what about me? I have a right to know. Maybe we can call and get this cleared up right now.”

  The front door chimed again. Hurried footsteps approached. A female voice called out, “Zach? Sweetie, are you in there?”

  A pudgy young woman with unruly hair the color of overcooked carrots scurried into the office. Her brown suede jacket with sheepskin lining was at least two sizes too small, which only served to accentuate her fleshy figure. When she caught sight of Lydia, she blinked long eyelashes, heavy with mascara, behind round wire-rimmed glasses.

  “Oh. I thought Zach would be alone. Sorry. Are you a patient or what?” She held up a plastic grocery bag and turned to Zach. “You forgot your lunch, sweetie. You know how you get all irritable when your blood sugar drops.” She turned back toward Lydia with a broad, nervous smile. “Can’t have that, can we?”

  “Who are you?” Lydia asked.

  The woman stepped forward and extended a purple-gloved hand. “I’m Patty Goines. Zach’s girlfriend. Who are you?”

  Lydia looked to Zach. “Care to do the honors?”

  Zach awkwardly stumbled his way through introductions. When Patty realized she’d barged in on Zach’s boss, she covered her mouth in embarrassment.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She smiled. Lydia assumed she was waiting for assurance that no harm had been done.

  “I just wanted to bring him his lunch,” Patty rushed on. “I hope that’s okay. We only have the one car. At least for now, that is. He’d have no way of driving home to pick it up.” When Lydia still didn’t respond, she turned to her boyfriend. “So I guess I’ll see you at home, huh? I’m off to work.”

  “Actually, Patty, I’m glad you’re here,” Lydia said. “Zach’s not going to be able to work today. He may be off for a while. We have some details to iron out and it’s best Zach stay away from this clinic while we do.”

  “What’s going on?” Patty asked Zach. “Is everything still okay?”

  “Don’t worry about a thing, Patty.” Zach reached for his coat. He gave a nod toward Lydia. “I’m sure this mistake will be cleared up soon. You’ll call me when it is?”

  Lydia stared at him. “You’ll be hearing from me, Zach. In the meantime, I’ll let your patients know they won’t be seeing you.”

  “Will someone tell me what’s happening?” Patty sounded frantic. “It’s all still good, right?”

  Zach hurried his girlfriend out of the office. Lydia waited until she heard the front door close before going to the window. She watched Zach stuff Patty in the front seat. Lydia could see her mouth moving with what she assumed were dozens of questions as Zach scooted around the rusted Volvo and took his place in the driver’s seat. When they’d driven out of sight, Lydia returned to her desk. She pulled a business card from her top desk drawer and dialed.

  “Detective Bauer speaking.” Paul Bauer was as much of an early bird as she was.

  “This is Lydia Corriger, Detective.”

  She heard the smile in his voice. “My morning just got brighter. And folks who call me before eight A.M. call me Paul.”

  “I just had an interaction with Zach Edwards. He wasn’t expecting me here. I sent him packing.”

  Bauer’s pleasantness disintegrated. “You didn’t tell him we’re on to him, did you? I need time to figure out whose voice is on those tapes he was dummying up for you.”

  “No need. I just met his girlfriend.” Lydia smiled for the first time since her conversation with Allie. “I may have never seen her before, but I’ve sure heard her voice.”

  Chapter 47

  Paul Bauer walked into Lydia’s office twenty minutes later. He handed her a cup of coffee.

  “Latte with honey,” he said. “Hope I got that right.”

  Lydia took a sip. “Perfect. Thank you.” She recognized the specific roast. He’d gone to Oliver’s shop. Would Oliver have recognized him as the man she sat with yesterday? What would he think of Bauer picking up a cup of her favorite so early in the morning?

  “What have you got?” Bauer slipped out of his camel-hair coat. He tossed it on the sofa and sat with the casual moves of a man who was comfortable in her presence.

  “Her name is Patty Goines. She’s Zach’s girlfriend. I remember Zach told me she’d been a theater arts major. I can’t remember where he said she was working now. A day-care center, I think. He says she volunteers painting sets with local theater groups. He joked about that being as close as she got these days to acting.”

  Bauer seemed cautious as he considered the news. “You’re sure it was her?”

  “I’ve listened to the tapes of who I thought was Brianna Trow at least a dozen times. There’s a nasal quality to Patty’s voice that’s hard to forget.”

  Bauer nodded. “I noticed that on the recordings, too. It’s very different from the real Brianna’s slow Southern drawl. I wonder why he didn’t have Patty fake an Alabama accent.”

  “Zach probably assumed I’d never hear the real Brianna. The scenario he had his girlfriend play out was classic. He worked a straight behavioral intervention and Patty, posing as the patient, responded exactly as I’d expect her to. To tell you the truth, before Brianna’s father came to see me, I hardly gave those tapes a serious listen. I simply assumed all was going well.”

  “I don’t suppose Patty gave you any other leads?”

  Lydia shook her head. “I didn’t want to
mention the tapes to either of them before I had a chance to speak with you. It could be Patty has no clue as to what Zach’s up to. I could see a situation where he might ask Patty to role-play a therapy session with him. He could have told her he wanted to practice his intervention before going face-to-face with a real patient.”

  “And being a frustrated actress, she’d be all too willing to help.”

  “She strikes me as the caregiver type.” She paused as a replay of the morning scrolled through her consciousness. “Although she did say something that, on reflection, seems a little odd.”

  Bauer leaned forward. “What’s that?”

  Lydia did a mental walk-through of her encounter with Patty one more time before answering. “She used the word still. A couple of times, actually. It would have been pretty obvious to her I was upset with Zach, especially when I asked her to drive him home and told Zach I’d contact his patients to inform them he wouldn’t be seeing them. She asked Zach if everything was still okay. She wanted to know if things were still good.”

  “She knows what he’s up to. And whatever it is, he’s not finished yet.” Bauer raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. Edwards scooted his girlfriend out of here fast after those comments.”

  Lydia was impressed with the detective’s ability to predict a situation based on limited data. “He did. He probably didn’t want her confusion to lead to any more disclosures. So, what’s our next move?”

  Paul Bauer pulled himself up and towered over Lydia. He reached for his coat. “You keep him away from patients. Especially Brianna. Don’t let him know we’re on to whatever the hell it is he’s up to.”

  Lydia stood. “Brianna’s going to need a lot of rehabilitative therapy. If Zach has successfully convinced her that her father sexually abused her, it’s going to be a tough job to turn that around. She’s likely to have trust issues the rest of her life.”

  Bauer buttoned his coat and slipped his hands into leather gloves. “I’ll leave that stuff to you, Doc. But for now, no word to Edwards that we’re on to him. I’ll do some background work, see what I can find.”