by T. E. Woods
The next voice was Zach’s. “But this is illegal, Dr. Corriger. Beyond that, it’s just not right.”
Zach had never spoken those words to her. She was stunned when her own voice answered. “I want you to rewrite this. I’ve highlighted the changes you need to make.”
She’d said those words when Zach had been so sloppy in his assessment report of Emma Sorens.
Then Zach’s voice, sounding nearly on the verge of tears. “But it’s not true. It’s just not true.”
Lydia heard her own crisp voice in response. “It doesn’t matter what’s true. It matters what people think is true.”
She sank back against her chair. She recalled saying that, as well. She’d been trying to impress upon Zach the importance of choosing his words carefully.
Zach’s voice came on again, begging her not to make him do this. She listened to her voice stream out of the wall-mounted speakers. “Are you clear on how I expect this to look?”
I know you think you have things figured out. Lydia’s breath left her as she understood what Zach meant by that taunt. She squeezed her eyes shut, listened to the rest of the recording. Zach had been recording all their supervisory sessions without her knowledge. For all she knew, he’d been recording her sessions with patients, too. She recalled a time when she needed to turn off the system. She thought then that he’d left it on following a session with a patient. But he’d actually been recording her.
I should have known then. I could have stopped this sooner.
She kept listening. Some phrases she recalled saying. Others seemed to have been digitally extracted from various everyday conversations, a bank of words Zach could rearrange to make any sentence he wanted. All in Lydia’s voice. Each of them spoken by her…building a conversation she never had.
She felt herself grow smaller, pulled from this reality and drawn deep into a dark tunnel of memory. A warehouse…bright lights…the voice of Barbra Streisand teasing her from above…the eardrum-piercing tsunami of sound bringing her to her knees.
I should have known. I could have stopped this.
From what seemed to be a distance of a thousand miles, she heard herself directing Zach to do terrible things. She heard him trying to reason with her. But the Lydia Zach had created from the building blocks of her words would hear nothing of it.
There was a period of silence before the recording sounded again. It became obvious that this was to represent another meeting. Lydia’s voice began.
“Remember first and foremost, your patient will want to please you.” Yes, she’d said that. She’d meant her words to be instructive. But in this context she sounded like a terrifying dictator.
I know you think you have things figured out.
Lydia now understood what Zach was doing. Listening to what was on those tapes made her long for a situation in which Zach was merely running a simple experiement in implanting memories. She could deal with that. What he was doing came from a place so dark that not even The Fixer would have thought it possible.
And Zach was pinning it all on her.
She listened to the entire file again. She was impressed with his skill. Thanks to the endless flexibility of digital recording, no one who heard it would be able to tell the whole thing had been doctored.
She replayed it for a third time, and the trauma she experienced on first listening started to fade. Her curiosity set in and Lydia found herself trying to reconstruct where and when she might have spoken certain phrases. On the fourth go-round, she was able to listen with a clinical ear, trying to comprehend the psychology of Zach’s motive for producing such an incriminating piece of work.
When she finished listening for the fifth time, she was angry. She let that energy course through her. She listened one last time, allowing Zach’s manipulation to recharge her. She now knew exactly what he was doing and why he was doing it.
She turned off the sound system and pulled a business card from under her desk phone. Lydia turned it over and called the handwritten number on the back. He’d said she could use it anytime.
“Paul Bauer here.”
“This is Lydia. I’m at my office. I need you.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
He hung up and Lydia looked at the clock. It was just now noon.
—
By one thirty, Paul Bauer was leaning against the wall, his eyes closed. He’d heard the tape and he’d heard her explanation. Lydia watched him. His jeans and sweater showed off his athletic build in a way business suits couldn’t. She looked down at her own outfit. Her own jeans and boots were presentable enough, but her sweatshirt had seen better days.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“I need to make some calls.” He opened his eyes and pulled himself erect. “One to our techies. See if there’s a way to prove this has been doctored. They’re probably gonna tell me there’s no way, since it’s digital. But still, I gotta try. The next is to a district attorney. I want a warrant.”
Lydia’s chest tightened. “They’re as likely to want to arrest me as they would Zach, don’t you think? I’m the one on the tape telling him what to do.”
“I keep telling you, you need to spend more time with cops. You’d know this stuff.” His gentle smile offered reassurance she wasn’t ready to accept. “It’s my job to figure things out. If I tell the DA you’re being used, she’ll believe me. And when she sees what Zach has been cooking here, I’m sure it’ll piss her off enough to get a judge on the phone. Even on a Saturday. You’re good with the police. But fasten your seatbelt when Zach’s defense attorney gets hold of you.”
It’s unlikely I’ll be here for a trial, Detective.
“What do you want me to do?”
Paul Bauer tucked Zach’s flash drive into his pocket. “You have a copy, right?”
Lydia nodded.
“Then your job is to stay put. No interaction with this guy. We’ll put a tail on Zach and his partner in crime. Let’s see if we can get some photos of the two of them together to help cement this case.” He reached for his jacket. “Go home, Lydia. Get some rest. No offense, but you look like hell, Doc. I’ll call you later.”
She walked him out, wanting to lock up behind him. They were both surprised to see Mort reaching for the knob at the precise moment she opened the door. He looked even more spent than when she’d left him with Allie the night before. Mort tensed when he saw the tall black man standing beside Lydia. Bauer instinctively placed a protective arm on Lydia’s shoulder and maneuvered himself in front of her. Two heartbeats later, both men relaxed.
“Mort Grant, right?” Bauer extended his arm.
“That’s me.” Mort shook the detective’s hand. “Paul Bauer. It’s been, what? Maybe three years?”
“Try closer to four. I think the last time I saw you was that state association thing in Yakima. That guy on your squad…Italian guy…the one with the dog…”
Mort’s face lightened. “Jim De Villa. And the dog’s Bruiser. That’s right. Jimmy and Bruiser had gotten a commendation. We went out to celebrate and you came with. That was a good night.”
Bauer’s laugh removed any intimidation a man his size might project. “Who knew a dog could get into so many places?”
“Well,” Mort said. “Jimmy’s been practicing excuses for years. Bruiser’s been everything from a sworn federal agent to a canine lie detector who can sniff imaginary chemicals off people telling fibs. He’ll say anything to keep that pooch close.” Mort nodded toward Lydia. “Liddy told me you were investigating a case she was working. It’s good to see you.”
Bauer turned playful green eyes her way. “Talking about me to your friends, huh?” He turned back to Mort. “I didn’t know the two of you knew each other.”
Mort’s casual warmth faltered. Lydia hoped Bauer didn’t notice.
“Lydia and I crossed paths a few years ago. A homicide. We thought one of her patients might be involved.” Mort shrugged. “We were wrong. Now, if I happen to be
in the area, I swing by to check up on her.” He tried to sound nonchalant. “Make sure she’s staying out of trouble.”
Bauer nodded and glanced between the two of them. “Well, I have to be going. It was good to see you again, Mort. Say hi to Jim for me, will you? And his dog, too. Tell him I still get a laugh every time I think of beer cheese soup.”
Mort grimaced at the inside joke.
Paul Bauer leaned toward her. “Remember what I said. Stay put. I’ll call you later…Liddy.”
Lydia stepped aside to let Mort in and Bauer out. “Where’s Allie?” she asked once she closed the door.
“Beauty parlor.” Mort dragged himself into her office and fell onto her sofa. “I told her about Patrick. Not the details. She doesn’t need to have that picture in her brain. But she knows he’s dead.”
Because she arranged it, Mort. She tipped him off about your plans to arrest him. She set him up to die. “How’d she take it?”
“Not well. Shock. Disbelief. Then the tears. Patrick Duncan was brutal in his dealings, from all I’ve heard. But I suppose she knew a side of him we’ll never understand. Love makes us blind, I guess.”
Lydia considered his assessment. “So how did she end up at a salon?”
“Poor kid.” Mort leaned his head back against the sofa. “Like I said, she took it hard. I told her that at least she didn’t need to worry about him looking for her. Then, of course, she wants to know what Duncan’s death means for her as relates to the feds.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I tried to reassure her, but with Duncan gone, it could go either way. The DEA may just decide to refocus on whoever plans to take his place and leave Allie alone.”
You don’t believe that any more than Allie does. “And Allie decides that a facial is just what she needed to get over her grief?”
“Can you cut her any slack at all, Liddy? I get it. You don’t like her. But look at what she’s been through.”
All of her own design, Mort. A spider spinning her own web.
“I suggested we go out for lunch,” Mort continued. “You were gone by the time we got up. I figured maybe getting out of the house would help her mood. Allie starts in on how she’s not presentable. She doesn’t have any clothes…thanks for letting her borrow so many things, by the way. She says her hair needs cutting. Her nails are a mess. I remember how much she and Edie used to love to go get all primped up. So it was my suggestion that she call and see if she could get in somewhere. I told her to go for the works.”
Lydia could visualize the scene Allie created to manipulate her father into doing exactly what she wanted him to do.
“And you’re confident she’ll be okay alone?”
Mort nodded. “The beauty parlor is on the fifth floor. She’s got no car keys and no money. It’s raining and cold. And besides, Allie loves those places. She’s like a different person the minute she steps foot inside. They told me she’d be ready for pickup in four hours. I thought I’d swing by here and see if you were hungry.”
Lydia wondered how such a kind man could produce an offspring so willing to prey on that very trait. But she would leave Mort’s relationship with Allie to him. She had all she could handle managing her own détente with his daughter.
“I’ve been so busy here I haven’t even thought of eating.”
Mort nodded to the stacks of paper and boxes on her desk. “What is all this stuff?”
“You really want to know?”
Mort’s fatigue disappeared from his face. He leaned forward, on full alert; an alpha dog roused from his slumber and ready to attack anyone who dared to threaten a member of his pack. “This have something to do with why Bauer was here?”
Lydia leaned against her desk. “It started after you were nagging me about getting back to work.” She went on to explain the mess she currently found herself in with Zach. She explained the chronology of it all, as well as her theory. She connected the dots. She answered every question he had. Twenty minutes later, Mort agreed with her. There could be no other explanation.
“And he’s trying to pin this on you?” Mort sounded bewildered. “How’s that work?”
Lydia told him about the digitized recordings. The phony tapes Zach had his girlfriend make.
“Making you think Brianna’s working on stomach problems, while all the time Zach’s implanting those memories.”
“Correct. He had to have something to give me. Brianna was coming in twice a week. He knew I’d be leery if he couldn’t provide me with something from each session. And I took him at his word.”
Mort shook his head. “You know, Liddy, I’ve been at this a long time. Every time I think I’ve seen the worst human nature can throw at me, something always comes along to prove me wrong. This is worse than murder. Those girls will have those memories forever. And if you’re right about the motive it’s…it’s…I don’t know what.”
“Unforgivable,” Lydia offered. “And I’ve got to find a way to fix it.”
“Bauer’s on it, Liddy,” Mort warned. “Let him—”
Lydia’s phone interrupted his lecture. Lydia looked at her cell and saw Sharon Luther was calling. A pull inside her urged her to take the call.
“What the hell’s going on down there, Lydia?” Sharon didn’t waste any time on pleasantries. “First Zach tells me you’ve bounced him out on his ear for no good reason. Now I get this message from him telling me where he left the keys to the lab. I get down there and sure enough, there’s a twelve-page outline of everything the lab assistants need to do, along with a letter of resignation. He’s moving away, he says. Just like that. No notice, no reason. He’s dropping out of the program and he’s gone.”
“When did you read the note?” Lydia’s tone pulled Mort up from the sofa.
“I’m holding it now. What did you do to him, Lydia? What has him so upset he’s willing to write off an entire career?”
“Did you see him? Was he there?”
“I’m alone in the lab.” Sharon’s frustration rang through the phone. “The door scan shows he left here about an hour ago. What did you do?”
Lydia hung up without answering and turned to Mort. “Zach’s making a run for it.” She called up Zach’s contact information on her phone, scribbled Zach’s home address, and shoved it in Mort’s hand. “Call Bauer. Tell him what’s happening. I’m heading over there.”
Mort reached for her arm but she was two steps ahead of him, heading for her car. “Wait! At least let me go with you…”
Lydia was too far ahead of him to hear what he was yelling next.
Chapter 51
She headed south on Capitol Boulevard, following the directions her phone provided and driving faster on the rain-slicked streets than a local cop might like. She looked in her rearview mirror. No sign yet of a police car. Perhaps Bauer would come alone, in his private vehicle. When she took the curve onto Yelm Highway she saw Mort’s Honda speeding up behind her.
“Your destination is on your left,” the sultry voice on her phone told her. “Turn left now.”
Lydia obeyed and entered a neighborhood of run-down houses that may have been showplaces back in the day, when owners kept their investments trim and gleaming. Now they were inhabited by renters too busy with extra jobs, day-care pickups, and community-college courses to take the time for household maintenance. She found Zach’s address, parked in the street, and ran toward it.
The door should have been locked. Lydia looked up and down the residential side street and saw no movement through the chilling November rain. The porch was wet with footsteps that weren’t hers. She pulled her Beretta out of her pocket, clicked off the safety, and pushed the door open.
She knew better. Never enter a situation without full control.
But she’d been in a hurry.
Lydia stepped into the small foyer. Wet footprints directed her right, into the living room. She held her gun to her side and stepped across an old Oriental rug. She stood in the middle of the space and listened. She was met with nothing b
ut the low-level buzz of an empty house.
She entered the kitchen. The odors of bacon and coffee lingered in the air. She touched the half-filled carafe in the coffeemaker. Barely warm. Whoever made the pot hadn’t touched it for at least an hour. The back door overlooked an empty driveway. She reached for the doorknob. Locked.
Lydia circled left, past an empty powder room and a cluttered office across from a polished wooden staircase. She glanced back down the hall toward the front door. She placed her left foot on the far side of the first stair and brought her right foot to the opposite end. Until she was sure the entire house was empty, she didn’t want to reveal her presence with a creaky step to the center. She mounted the stairs without a sound, turned on the landing to begin the full climb to the second story, and saw the body. One leg protruded over the uppermost steps, the other was bent to the side.
I know those old-man shoes. I told him he was too young for wing tips.
Lydia scrambled up the stairs, not bothering to stifle her scream.
“Mort!”
She heard him barge into the house.
“Up here!” she called. Lydia rolled Zach Edwards’s lifeless body over. A pool of blood soaked the dingy carpet beneath him. Ravaged skin and hair hung from the gunshot wound to his head.
Mort was there now, his gun drawn and looking past her.
“Freeze!” he yelled. “Drop your weapon.”
Lydia turned, immediately jumped up, and trained her own Beretta on Mort’s target.
Kenton Walder slumped in a faded, overstuffed chair on the opposite side of the darkened room. “Thank God you’re here. I thought he was going to kill me. It all happened so fast.” Walder’s voice had the detached flatness of a person in shock. “He was going to kill me.”
“I said drop your weapon. Kick it over to me.” Mort kept his gun on Walder. “I won’t ask again.”
Kenton Walder tossed his gun to his feet and kicked it without getting out of the chair. His unblinking eyes stared into space.