“Why the wait? Why not continue to search the reserve now?”
“If she’s dead, she’s not going anywhere. We’ve had one look and turned up nothing. We’ve got a big caseload, and we’ve fitted this tip-off in when we can. And if she’s been buried there for five years, another couple of weeks won’t hurt.”
“If she’s dead.”
“That’s true.” Stacey shrugs. “Kevin Wu and his second wife Eva Wu were rumored to be importing women from Hong Kong and keeping them locked up while they pimped them out for prostitution. He was even rumored to keep some in his basement, just for himself. They were said to traffic young women from Hong Kong, pimp them out, and then send them back. Maybe Kevin sent Tiffany Lee to Hong Kong along with the others.”
“No pimping charges were ever laid against him.”
“That’s because of stupid defense lawyers arguing the technicalities of the law. They let guilty men walk back onto the street.”
A wave of guilt washes over Bill as Stacey’s glare almost cuts him in two. At the time when he defended Kevin Wu, he hadn’t realized the extent of the criminal behavior he was involved with. He was charged with one single act of pimping and pandering, and he convinced Bill that it was a mistake. Kevin Wu walked away from the court, avoiding prison due to a technicality of law.
“I can’t argue against that.” He looks away from her. “How about CCTV footage from the reserve?”
“Strangely enough that day of footage is missing.”
“Missing?”
“It was before cloud computing – none of that technology was in common use at that time. We get that a lot in cold cases – technology from today would have solved so many more crimes if they were in use back then. The reserve manager, nice old guy, said that they backed everything up on USB drives each month, and when he went to check, he found that the footage of that month was missing. He was stunned that the month was missing because he’s usually so thorough. You should have seen his storage room – everything was labeled, perfectly organized, and absolutely spotless. He thinks the USB drive must have been stolen because the month before is still there, as is the month after, but he has no idea when it was stolen. It was backed up at the end of each month, so the thief must have taken it after the month finished.”
“And the tip-off? Any idea where it came from, or why the person waited five years to make it?”
“It happens.” She frowns. “People deal with the guilt for as long as they can, and then one day it all becomes too much. The person was probably scared of what Kevin Wu would do if they found out it was them, and now that his operations have been shut down, they aren’t as scared of him. He’s still very dangerous, but he’s not as powerful as he once was.” She looks over her shoulder to see another young man jump into a dip and spin. “But the incident has probably played on their mind every day for half a decade. We get that a lot.”
“So, is it a missing person’s case or a murder case?”
“At this point, officially, it’s still a kidnapping. We don’t know that she’s dead yet, but we presume that she is. Tiffany Lee could still be alive somewhere, but they’ve given it to our section to follow up.” Stacey adjusts her loose T-shirt on her shoulder. “And I sort of get Kevin Wu’s anger. If Monty Lee killed his only daughter, and no justice came to the murderer, then I understand that he wanted revenge, I just don’t understand why he would’ve targeted the kid.”
“You’re siding with the criminals now?”
“Not a chance. That’s your job.” She turns her cap backward. “If he murdered that girl, we’ll get him. That’s what we do in the cold case team; we get the scum that thought they got away with it.”
“So Kevin knows you’re close. He knows that you’ve almost got him,” Bill states, watching a seven-year-old girl zip past him with more coordination and coolness than he could ever dream of.
“He does. What happens to you if he’s successful in the civil court?”
“I’ll be broke, struck off the bar, and lose my job. And worse, every person I’ve ever worked with in hypnotherapy will come at me with their problems. If they do something wrong after the sessions – a car accident, a bad relationship, a poor gambling decision – they’ll lay the blame on me. And every other hypnotherapist in the world will become a target for the courts.”
“Sounds bad.” Stacey adjusts her loose shirt again, ready for another run. “What’s your next move?”
“It’s a lot harder to win a civil case if you’re in prison. Not impossible, but it sure is a lot harder convincing a judge that you’re an angel when you’re wearing an orange jumpsuit.”
“That’s a good tactic. I guess that you’re just going to let us do our job then?”
“I need him arrested before then. I don’t have time on my side.”
“There’s not a chance that we can push this case up the list, Bill. This is a low priority case, and even if I push it, I won’t get approval for the search for weeks. But there are two things that you could do to help us.”
“Go on.”
“The reason they couldn’t prosecute him in the illegal brothel case was because of a lack of evidence, but we all know that he had a little black book full of names. All you would have to do is find the black book, and then convince Kevin Wu to testify the validity of it, in return for a reduced prison sentence.”
“That’s not a very plausible option.” Bill places his hand in his pocket. “I hope option two is better.”
“If you find that missing footage of the Ernest E. Debs Regional Park, you will help my case, and I can guarantee that I’ll push the case for an arrest if I have the hard proof.”
Bill nods. “I’ll start with Terrance Marshall.”
“Tread carefully. Kevin Wu might have had his operations shut down, but he’s still a very dangerous man.” She slaps her skateboard down. “If he thinks you’re a threat, he’ll have you killed, but not until after he’s killed everyone you love. Right now, he’s backed into a corner, and he’s at his most dangerous. He has nothing to lose.”
“Looks like we’re in the same position.”
“The closer you get to his world, the more you’re inviting danger into yours.”
“It’s the only shot I’ve got.” Bill watches her take off for another skate around the course, before musing to himself. “And what’s life without a little bit of danger?”
Chapter 6
Randall D. Woods is an impressive speaker. His deep baritone voice, smooth sentence structure, and memorizing green eyes capture attention everywhere he goes. His tall frame means that he talks down to most people, and he uses his size to coerce people into doing what he wants.
That’s probably why he’s the president of the American Association of Hypnotists.
“He must have signed a form stating that you’re in no way responsible for his actions. I can’t imagine that you would have started a session without that disclosure form?”
“He did sign the standard form. I still have a copy of it.” Bill sighs, placing his fork next to his bowl of pasta. “He’s not arguing that fact, but he’s claiming that the impact of the sessions went beyond sensible expectations. He’s claiming that the damages caused by the hypnotherapy sessions went beyond what a normal person would consider reasonable.”
“What’s he actually stating happened?”
“He’s stating that he made numerous bad business and personal decisions after the five hypnotherapy sessions, and he doesn’t recall making those decisions. He states that he wasn’t in conscious control of his actions during that time, completely under a hypnotic trance, meaning that his decisions were made under the influence of hypnotherapy. He’s stating that he was under the extended influence of the sessions, and those decisions have gone on to cost him millions in lost business and lost opportunities, and the sessions have damaged his personal relationships beyond repair.”
The busy Italian restaurant buzzes around them, but neither man is paying attenti
on to anything other than the current conversation.
“And he’s saying that you benefited from those decisions?”
“No. Kevin’s stating that it’s negligence on my part and that I’m responsible for not fulfilling my duty of care to him. He’s stating that these fabricated ‘side effects’ were never disclosed to him before, during, or after the sessions. He’s claiming that I’m responsible for all his actions and his lost potential.”
“And you were still registered with us at the time of the sessions?”
“And I still am. I pay my membership fees each year, but I haven’t practiced in five years. Kevin Wu was my last case.”
Randall shakes his head; all this information is ruining his favorite risotto. And by the size of the stomach, it’s clear that he enjoys a lot of risotto. Or cake. Or anything that he can get his hands on. “Why did you have to bring me here to talk about this? I love this place. I don’t want to take bad information here.”
He looks at his risotto, so inviting, so tasty, and he sighs. The moment in his favorite restaurant has been ruined by Bill’s current case. Randall loves this restaurant; this is the place he returns to celebrate any win. Having practiced hypnotherapy for more than forty years, he knows the importance of association – by using the same restaurant for every celebration, when he’s feeling down, he can step inside these doors, and instantly feel picked up. He has been very careful to avoid bad news in the restaurant, a streak that has lasted decades.
That streak is now over.
“You can’t let this case get to court.” He tastes a fork full of risotto, but it doesn’t have the same impact it usually has. “If you lose this case, our industry will go under. The media will get a hold of it, and every person on the street will claim that any negative actions they take are the result of bad hypnotherapy. The floodgates will be opened, and we’ll be inundated with legal battles. There’s no way you can even consider letting this case get to court, but more importantly, you absolutely must not let the media make a story out of it.”
“I realize that.” Bill waves the Italian waitress away when she offers to refill his glass of red wine. It’s beautiful wine, full of flavor and quality, but right now, he needs a clear head.
“You have to settle this case outside of court; we can’t have the news outlets grabbing hold of this story. Could you imagine that? The headlines would run for weeks, possibly even months. It would be a moral outrage, a story full of fear about what hypnotherapists are capable of, and that would sell endless advertising space for the media. Imagine the fear that would create? People on the streets would be fearful of our influence. This story has the potential to be massive.” Randall takes another forkful of risotto. “The Association can help with money. How much are we talking?”
“$100,000,000.”
“What?!” Randall almost chokes. When the shock subsides, he wipes his mouth with a napkin and takes a large gulp of his red wine. “You can’t be serious?”
“I am.”
“This is worse than I thought.” Randall waves the waitress over to refill his glass of wine and nods to do the same with Bill’s.
Again, Bill waves her away.
“He’s stating that he made horrible, out-of-character investment decisions and uncharacteristically destroyed personal relationships. Those decisions have not only cost him a lot of money, but also the relationships with his family.” Bill takes a deep breath and leans forward. “But that’s not the worst of it. He’s about to be charged with murder, and I think he’s going to take this defense to the criminal court as well. He’s going to say that he had no control over his actions, and the sessions made him mentally incapacitated during the events.”
“No,” Randall whispers.
“And that’s when the floodgates will really open. If hypnotherapy can be a defense against criminal activity, the practice will be outlawed. The entire industry will go under.”
“Do you think he stands a chance in the criminal court? Surely, this can’t be a legal defense against criminal actions?”
“I’m not sure. How can you be sure? It comes down to how well it’s argued in court. The DA will charge him with murder, and his legal team will fight tooth and nail to build a case against his legal responsibility. It’s his only defense, and you can be assured that they will pull out every trick in the book to get him off the charges. The theory has never been tested like this.”
“That scares me.” Randall shakes his head in disbelief. “But I also knew this day might come. I knew that someone might make this claim in court, but I didn’t think that they would be brave enough to take you on about it. To be honest, I’m glad it’s you and not some backward, unqualified hick practitioner. You did everything right, you always have, and you won’t have anything to answer for.”
“The court will make that decision.”
Randall takes another gulp of wine, desperate to ease his stress. “What do you need from us?”
“I need you to testify, as an expert witness in the civil case, that there’s no way possible that the hypnotherapy sessions could have influenced his behavior in that way. As a qualified psychiatrist and the president of the Association, you’ll have the biggest pull in court. We’ll come at it from a scientific perspective, but you’ll need to be very convincing.”
“I need to know that you’re going to win this case before I put my name to it.” Randall leans forward, elbows resting on the table. “If it looks like you’re going to lose, I want to distance the Association far away from your loss. It’s nothing personal, but we’ll have to distance ourselves from a loss like this. It’s not about you or me; it’s about keeping our industry alive.”
“I can’t give you that guarantee.”
Randall looks away from Bill’s stare, the thoughts crashing through his head.
His passion has always been unlocking the secrets of people’s subconscious – that’s what first drove him into studying psychiatry. But over the years, testing technique after technique, he found his calling in hypnotherapy. Charging extraordinarily high prices, he made his name training elite athletes, CEOs, and entrepreneurs. They came from all over the country to unlock their subconscious minds, expelling all the secrets of their past to Randall on his dark leather couch.
Hypnotherapy became everything to him and kept him going through three marriage breakdowns, two heart attacks, and one broken hip.
“If it makes it to court, we’ll have your back.” He states. “If anyone is going to beat this type of charge, it’s going to be you. We’ll have to be all in; otherwise, we’ll be all out. Literally.”
“Any help is greatly appreciated.”
“I know other scientists and medical doctors that will come and testify as experts. They hate what we do, and they’ll be happy to say that there’s no way the sessions could have exerted that amount of control for that period of time. They’ll state that there’s no scientific evidence to state that you could have influenced him.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s not for you, Bill; it’s for our industry.” Randall places his glass down, rubbing the side with his thumb. He stares at his glass for a long period of time before turning his attention to the younger man opposite him.
“But, Bill.” He lowers his tone of voice. “I know Kevin Wu is criminal and a very dangerous man, but this can’t go to court. It will be a disaster for our industry if this goes to court. It’ll destroy us. People’s jobs rely on you not getting this case to court.”
“I hear you, and I’ll make sure it won’t get that far.” Bill nods. “No matter how dangerous it gets.”
Chapter 7
Five years earlier…
“I want you to imagine that you’re walking down a long, dark flight of stairs. These stairs lead you deeper into your own mind. It’s a deep, long stairwell, and with each step, you’ll be going deeper. Deeper. Softer with each step. Deeper… With each step, you are feeling lighter… Lighter. You are walking down the stairs
into the deep parts of your mind…”
Kevin Wu relaxes back into his chair, shoulders resting on the lounge. His eyes close softly, deep breaths calming his anxious mind.
“Your eyelids are feeling heavier. You can feel your breath coming and going from your lungs. Your body is peaceful, loving, and you are sinking deep into the couch… Deeper…”
He’s relaxing, Bill Harvey writes on his notepad. For the first time in five sessions, he’s relaxing into the session. During the first four sessions, there was a wall in front of Kevin Wu’s subconscious. He didn’t want to let me in. He was pretending, blocking me from something, but today, he’s finally relaxing, and I feel this session of hypnotherapy will be successful.
“I want you to continue taking deep breaths… relaxing… easing down each step…” Using a low, calming voice, Bill Harvey soothes Kevin Wu into a peaceful state. “Keep walking down those steps until you’re feeling completely relaxed. With each step, you are going deeper… I want you to completely let go of everything you’re feeling. Let it all go. In three… two… one.”
Click.
Bill Harvey clicks his fingers, watching as Kevin Wu buys into the hypnosis session for the first time. During the first four sessions, Kevin pretended to submit to the hypnosis, resisting any attempts to actually give in. He was blocking Bill, telling him what he thought he should say, but the small signs were obvious. There was still stiffness around Kevin’s eyes, his hands weren’t relaxed, and there was tension in his voice, but this time, finally, he has given in.
As someone who is obsessively analytical, Kevin struggled to let go. His childhood was spent with his nose in one math textbook after another, but that was not unusual for children growing up in the competitive Hong Kong school system. His parents drove him to study, his success reflecting on their ability to parent. In the cutthroat world of a high-priced Asian school, Kevin succeeded. When he moved to America at just eighteen years old, his parents had such great dreams for him. He found success, wealth, and power, but it wasn’t in math – it was in taking advantage of people.
A Time for Justice: A Legal Thriller (Bill Harvey Book 4) Page 3