The Unforgivable Fix

by T. E. Woods

  Lydia called Mort at lunchtime. As he’d predicted, Allie’s door was still closed.

  “But I’m starting to hear movement.” He sounded tired. “She should be out here asking about breakfast any minute now.”

  Lydia wondered what it would take for Mort to see his daughter for who she truly was. Allie could be charming and witty. She could also be self-centered and heartless, utterly unconcerned about how her own actions hurt others. But that was for Mort to discover on his own.

  “Want me to come home?” she suggested. “I could keep Allie entertained while you catch some sleep.”

  Mort assured her he’d had a morning nap and felt fine. Lydia knew he was lying. His mind would be flooded with calculations of what steps he could take next to keep his daughter safe. First from Patrick Duncan and Vadim Tokarev, and then from the feds. Lydia promised to bring supper home.

  Will Sorens was right on time for his one o’clock appointment. His situation had taken its toll. His weight loss was visible, and given the lean runner’s body he had to begin with, he now looked like someone in the midst of a ferocious chronic illness. Dark bags of flesh pulled at his lower eyes. His collar hung loosely around a neck draped in sagging skin. Even the hand he offered Lydia when he entered the office appeared bony and weak. He collapsed more than sat on her sofa.

  “She’s with her mother this week.” Will wasted no time getting down to what bothered him. “I’m calling her and texting her every chance I get. I can tell she’s trying to be brave. I want her out of there.”

  “Is Emma back at school?”

  Will nodded. “I’ve asked two of her teachers…I know them…Rose Hoffman is her biology teacher. We volunteer together down at the Humane Society. And Quinn Brickle is a guy I’ve golfed with a couple of times. I asked them both if they’d keep an eye on her. Hold her at school as long as possible with extra projects and stuff. Her mother doesn’t like it, but at this point I say tough shit. I don’t want her in that house of horrors one second longer than she has to be.” He hung his head. “I don’t know how much longer this can go on. Emma needs to be with me.”

  “Do you hear anything about the progress of the investigation?”

  Will huffed out a bitter laugh. “What do you think? What’s your best guess about the progress in the investigation of the man who last year donated bulletproof vests for all the city’s police dogs?” He looked at her with utter helplessness. “Or how about this? I just found out day before yesterday. Kenton Walder’s company funds a scholarship for kids of Olympia police. Each year, five grand is made available to one kid who has a parent on the force. Offers it up at a big banquet every May.” He slammed a fist against his leg. “Motherfucker fuck. You tell me how eager the cops are to step up and bite that hand.”

  Lydia knew her words would be as helpful as a cup of water on a drought-baked cornfield. “You’re doing all you can to keep Emma safe, Will. Stay on that. You need to keep yourself strong and steady. Let’s not project any conclusion about what the police may or may not be doing.” She thought about Detective Paul Bauer, and Mort’s assurance that he was one of the good guys. “You’re doing all you can.”

  Will looked up and Lydia saw the primal force of the ages—protect your young—pulse out of determined eyes. “Wanna know all I can do, Doc? I’ll tell you. I’m going to kill him.”

  “Will, let’s talk about—”

  He interrupted her with a vengeance she’d not seen from him before. “I’m going to kill him, Dr. Corriger. I’m not going to risk Kenton Walder hurting my girl again.”

  —

  Lydia had settled Will Sorens down by the time their appointment was over. She’d gotten him to back off his threat to Kenton Walder, and secured his promise to call her if any urge to harm him or himself started to rise beyond his control. Still, there was no way to guarantee or predict human behavior. She was considering whether or not she had a duty to warn Walder when the buzzer in her outer office indicated someone had arrived. She wasn’t expecting her next patient for two hours. An image of red laser sights flashing across her darkened yard came to her. She opened the side drawer of her desk and placed her hand on the Beretta in the back.

  “Who’s there?” she called out.

  “It’s me, Lydia.” She recognized the sonorous voice of Paul Bauer and pulled her hand off the gun. “You don’t have a receptionist. How’s this work? Do I sit out here and yell, or do you come out to get me?”

  She closed her drawer and shoved away a foreign impulse to check her hair and makeup. “I’m in my office. Come on back.”

  Despite this being their third encounter, Lydia was still taken aback when Paul Bauer came through her door. There was no doubt the detective made an impression. She was certain he used that to full advantage in his line of work.

  “I’m all for economy, but don’t you think things would work better if you had someone out there?” He stood in front of her desk and Lydia felt very small. “What if I was a burglar…or worse, a salesman? You need a front line, Lydia. Someone to block folks trying to get at you.”

  “Is that what you’re doing, Detective? Trying to get at me?”

  His extraordinary green eyes betrayed a hint of playfulness as he took two seconds before answering. “Nothing stops me from getting what I want, Lydia.”

  An attractive discomfort surged through her. She looked away and invited him to sit. “You’re lucky. I don’t have a patient this hour. Maybe in the future you could call or set up an appointment if you need to see me.”

  He settled into the leather chair in her therapy area and crossed his long, khaki-trousered legs at the ankles. He smiled. “You need to know more police, Lydia. If you did, you’d know we’re not the type to wait.”

  I’ve spent the better part of my life avoiding the police. Now I’ve got Mort in my house and you in my office.

  “What brings you by today, Detective?”

  “I sure wish you’d call me Paul.” He reached inside the pocket of his navy blazer. “But suit yourself. What I have here are a couple of judge’s orders. One commands you to turn over to me everything you have as relates to the Emma Sorens case.” He handed her one set of folded documents. “And the other says I get the same for Brianna Trow.” He gave her another sheaf of papers. “You can see the order commands both you and Zach Edwards. He here?”

  Lydia shook her head as she shuffled through the blue-backed documents. “I don’t expect him for an hour. But he keeps his files here. I should be able to get what you need.”

  Bauer pointed his finger to the papers she held. “Everything, Lydia. Case notes, personal in-session writings, tests, assessments, tapes…anything and everything you’ve got in both of these cases.”

  “What are you looking for?” She needed to cooperate, but also felt the need to protect the privacy of her patients. “I understand you’re investigating Emma’s allegations against Kenton Walder, but what are you looking into with Brianna?”

  Bauer smiled. “See? Just another reason why you need to get friendlier with cops. If you were, you’d know I only have to explain what I’m investigating to the judge. I have. And she’s issued these orders.”

  “I need to make copies of the charts. That may take some time.”

  Bauer clasped his hands behind his head. “You’ve already said you don’t have a patient this hour. I’ll wait.” His smile took on that playful aspect again. “See? This is another time when it would be helpful to have someone out in that front office. If you’d like, I can help you make the copies myself.”

  Lydia pushed herself away from her desk. “That won’t be necessary, Detective.” She pointed to the outer office. “But if you’re going to hang around while I make the copies, please make yourself comfortable somewhere other than my office.”

  —

  Thirty minutes later, Lydia handed Paul Bauer two padded envelopes containing everything needed to fully comply with the judge’s orders. She marked one envelope Sorens and the other Trow.


  “This all of it?” he asked.

  “Every note, report, tape, and assessment. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got a practice to run.” Lydia pointed to the door.

  Bauer looked at his watch. “Actually, Lydia, I think I’ll hang here a few minutes longer. You said you were expecting Dr. Edwards. I think it’s time I met him.”

  As if on cue, the front door to her office suite opened and Zach entered in all his rumpled glory. He nodded to them both, ran a hand through his damp, thinning hair, and tucked his umbrella under his arm.

  “Zach, there’s someone here to meet you.” Lydia waved him closer. “Dr. Zach Edwards, this is Detective Paul Bauer of the Olympia Police Department. He’s investigating the Kenton Walder case. He’s here today to collect all the records we have.”

  Zach looked confused as he shook hands with the detective. “I sent my report to the judge nearly two weeks ago. Didn’t you get it?”

  “I did.” Bauer was in his “I’m just here to help” mode. “But you know how lawyers love paper. I gotta make sure they understand I’ve looked under every stone.”

  In that instant, Lydia understood that Bauer was investigating Zach. He’d told her about the coincidence between the Walder and Trow cases, but she’d written it off to his apparent ignorance of how prevalent sexual-abuse issues might be in a psychologist’s office. Of course both men were denying the charges. She recalled Will Sorens’s words about how the police might be slow to bring a case against a man who treated their department so well. She felt a surge of protectiveness. Lydia wasn’t about to have Zach used as a tool to protect Kenton Walder.

  “Detective Bauer has everything he needs.” Lydia spoke directly to Zach. “I’m sure we’ve been as cooperative as we can be at this point.”

  Zach pointed over his shoulder. “I keep my notebook in the file cabinet. Dr. Corriger cleared out a drawer for me so I wouldn’t have to schlep my stuff around. Want me to see if there’s anything there?”

  Before Lydia could divert him, Bauer stepped in.

  “That would be great, Zach. Why don’t you show me your drawer?” The two of them walked into Lydia’s office with Lydia trailing behind.

  Zach pulled out his spiral notebook. “These are the notes I take in session.”

  “I already copied those, Zach.” Lydia hoped he’d pick up the urgency in her voice. She wanted Bauer out of her office before Zach said anything that the detective could use to trip him up. “The detective has what he needs.”

  “Oh!” Zach walked over to one of the wall-mounted recording buttons. “Did Dr. Corriger tell you about her system? It’s so cool. Beyond state of the art. You just press this button…and everything that gets said is digitally recorded. She can listen to every word I say with a patient. Isn’t that the best supervisory tool ever?”

  Bauer nodded and smiled in Lydia’s direction. “It certainly is.”

  Zach’s face grew apologetic. “I’m a bit of a geek, I suppose. My girlfriend always says I relate more to machines than her. Anyway, did you get the recording of my evaluation with Emma?”

  “I did. Thank you both for being so cooperative.” Bauer patted the envelopes. “I have what I need for Emma Sorens and I think I have everything for Brianna Trow as well.”

  The familiar look of confusion came back to Zach. “Brianna? What’s she got to do with Kenton Walder? It was her father who abused her.” He turned to Lydia. “What was his name? The guy who came to see you? Henry, was it?”

  Lydia shot him a look that even a blind person could see meant Shut up. Zach was a talented new psychologist, but still a rookie. Even the casual remarks he was making were in violation of patient confidentiality. “Detective Bauer has what he needs, Zach. Let’s not hold him up any longer.”

  Paul Bauer offered his card to Zach, telling him to call if he had any questions. He turned to leave. “Consider my suggestions about the front here, Lydia. You never know what might walk in on you.”

  Chapter 41

  Mort handed her a glass of wine. “That was good spaghetti. I liked the sauce.”

  “It’s from Dirty Dave’s. I called, I picked it up, I brought it home. Let’s not make it any bigger than it is.” Lydia looked past him into the kitchen. “Is she washing those dishes on her own accord or did you put her up to it?”

  “Let’s just say it was pretty clear to both of us that your irritation meter is closing in on red line. I know Allie’s pushing your buttons. Mine, too, for that matter.” Mort looked out the wide windows. “Man, I never get tired of this view.”

  “You’ll be closer to the water than I am once you settle in on your houseboat.”

  Mort nodded. “If we’re wearing out our welcome, just give us the boot, Liddy. I know it’s been tough these past couple weeks.”

  Lydia regretted the sharpness in her tone. “It’s not you. I’m not going to be gracious enough to say it’s not Allie, either, but it’s more than that. I’m just not used to sharing…how’s that? I’ll adjust. The two of you can stay here as long as you need.”

  “What’s the more?”

  “Huh?”

  “You said your irritation was more than me and Allie being here.” Mort’s fatigue was even more evident than when she left him this morning. He leaned back and rested his head against the sofa. “Want to talk about it?”

  Lydia thought back to her interaction with Paul Bauer. The detective called up an approach/avoid reaction in her. She didn’t like the way he appeared in her office unannounced, armed with court orders for patient records. She certainly didn’t like the way he maneuvered Zach into divulging information. And there was no way she could spin his curiosity about her that didn’t send up warning signals. On the other hand, despite the potential threat should his investigation run deep enough to bring him to The Fixer’s door, there was something about him she found attractive. Beyond his physical good looks and impressive stature, he had a way of commanding a room. He seemed to have an ability to handle things that she found appealing. Bauer was a man supremely confident about who he was. One who understood the nature of his power. She pinched the bridge of her nose hard enough to bring her back to the moment.

  “It’s just stuff at work.” Her own weariness was catching up with her. “I’ve been thinking I came back too soon.”

  Mort’s exhaustion was replaced instantly with a look of concern. “Is it your patients? That guy you’re supervising?”

  She’d known him long enough to appreciate that when Mort Grant cared for someone he took it upon himself to do all he could to keep them worry-free. Though it had taken her a long time, Lydia had come to accept Mort cared for her.

  “Remember me asking you about that Olympia detective?”

  “Yeah. Paul Bauer. Good cop. You said one of your patients is a party to an investigation he’s running. If he’s giving you a hard time, say the word and I’ll make some calls.”

  “Will you stop?” she asked. “The guy’s doing his job, that’s all. I just have to get used to his style.”

  His smile erased a few of the tired lines on his face. “Not everyone’s as smooth as me, is that what you’re saying?”

  They shared a laugh and for a brief moment Lydia felt lighter. As if this tornado of stress wasn’t whirling about her. She saw it in Mort, too. But the moment passed and the heaviness she’d seen in his face returned. It was a sadness mixed with acceptance.

  “Any word from Seattle today?” she asked.

  Mort took a drink of his wine. “Nothing new to report. Everybody’s looking for Duncan. I think the chief’s trying to figure out how to dock my pay for the officers assigned to that busted arrest attempt yesterday.”

  “He’ll get over it.” Mort Grant’s name commanded respect from every member of the Seattle Police Department.

  “Yeah, but will Micki?” He let out a low whistle. “I’ve never seen a woman I wasn’t married to so mad at me.”

  “She’s upset you didn’t let her in on what was going on,” Ly
dia told him. “She’s probably thinking you didn’t trust her enough.”

  “Bingo. Man, she let me have it.”

  “But you said she volunteered for the Duncan arrest.” Lydia looked down into her glass. “And you know damned well it’s not what people say, it’s what they do that counts. In the wise, wise words of Maya Angelou, ‘If someone shows you who they are, believe them.’ ”

  Mort was quiet as he considered the advice. When he spoke again, his voice was more vulnerable. “Is that what irritates you most? Do you think I’m so swayed by Allie’s sweet talk I can’t see my daughter for who she is?”

  Lydia glanced again into the kitchen. Allie was drying dishes and dancing to whatever tune was playing in her earbuds. She watched her. Anyone would think she didn’t have a care in the world. No one would know by Allie’s actions that she was the eye of the hurricane swarming through this house.

  “I can’t judge your relationship with your daughter, Mort. I’m utterly unfamiliar with the strength of familial bonds.”

  Mort looked back out the window. The night was unusually clear for November. A bright moon cast a silvered glow over the water. “My kids are my link to Edie.” His voice was barely a whisper. “Robbie’s easy to love. He’s always done things right. Never a moment’s worry, always a source of pride. Allie’s different. Man, she was a handful to raise. And God knows I left the lion’s share of that duty to her mother. I can’t help but wonder if things would have turned out better for Allie if I’d been there for her. If I hadn’t spent so much time building the career. Because seeing what my girl has become…well, the only word to describe what kind of father I’ve been is ‘failure.’ ”

  “Robbie had the same ambitious father Allie did.”

  Mort shook off Lydia’s attempt at reassurance. “Girls are different. You’re a shrink. You know that. Don’t tell me you haven’t laid awake nights wondering what life would have been like if you’d had a decent father.”

  “I don’t allow myself those thoughts.”