by Alex Barclay
‘Yes, but not to destroy all her patients’ mental health in the process,’ said Ren. ‘I doubt Helen Wheeler would want that either. Also, I’m sure if her assistant really thought one of the patients was a threat, she would have let you know.’ I am talking about this too much.
‘Sure,’ said Glenn. ‘But it’s not like the assistant’s a trained psychiatrist.’
‘True. Right, well, keep me posted,’ said Ren. ‘Hopefully something will come up.’
And please God let it not be Patient B’s deep dark secrets.
20
Gary was the only person in Safe Streets who knew about Ren’s condition. She rushed to his office.
‘Gary, I was talking to Glenn Buddy and they’re going to try and access Helen’s patient files.’
‘I wish them well.’
‘No – it looks like they’re able to do it,’ said Ren. ‘Apparently Helen was writing a book and her notes were in plain view when they went to check out her office. They were like Patient A, male, thirty-one, whatever. Patient B, Patient C. And I’m Patient B.’
‘Whoa. What?’
‘I am Patient B. No names, obviously, but it is me. Female, my age, law-enforcement officer, bipolar…’
‘But they’re privileged files—’
‘These notes were right there on top of her desk,’ said Ren. ‘Denver PD’s got nothing to go on so far, so they’re looking at the patient-gone-nuts angle. The closest they can get to a patient at this stage is these notes.’
‘You had no idea she was writing a book?’
‘No,’ said Ren. ‘And I would, let’s face it, be the last person to give Helen permission to use me as a case study if she had been. I mean, it’s not like I’m relatable to in the grand scheme of things. My case study is too unusual. She was probably writing notes first, then going after permission.’
‘Has this been confirmed – was she definitely writing a book?’
‘I didn’t ask, I was too thrown. Glenn didn’t seem to be questioning it.’
‘Did she have a publisher?’ said Gary. ‘Is there anything else to back this up?’
‘There might be something in her email. But according to Glenn, her assistant knew nothing about it.’
‘That just doesn’t add up.’
‘What can we do?’ said Ren.
‘I’ll talk to Glenn Buddy and tell him not to go after Patient B’s files.’
‘Can you do that?’
‘If he knows I can vouch for Patient B, he’ll take my word. He would know that I wouldn’t go out on a limb for that. The judge isn’t going to have a problem with it – the less he has to wade through, the better.’
‘I hope you’re right.’
‘You don’t need to hope.’ Gary paused. ‘OK, if I’m going to get Denver PD to bury this, you need to tell me what you were seeing Helen about…’
‘Everything, really,’ said Ren.
‘Relationships? Your family? Work?’
‘Yes.’
‘Ren,’ said Gary, leaning forward, ‘for now, you are one of three patients Denver PD are interested in. I need to be absolutely sure that your file is not going to hold the key to this entire investigation or even be twenty steps behind the key to this investigation. I need to know that we’re not all going to spend weeks or months or years looking for a killer who is named on page one of your patient file.’
‘No, not a chance.’
‘You’re off medication at the moment, right? That’s according to my last time checking in with Helen.’
‘Yes.’
‘Were you discussing the work stuff in detail with Helen?’
‘Not major details, no. And I doubt she would have taken them down if I was.’
‘Different psychiatrists take different kinds of notes. It’s their call. Did you notice – did Helen have separate psychiatry/psychotherapy files? Did she have the meds in one file and notes on the talk therapy in another?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Ren. ‘Most psychiatrists do nowadays. Or do they? I mean, if you thought someone other than your therapist would be able to access the inner workings of your mind, you wouldn’t tell them everything. And if you don’t, then your treatment is a total waste. I would have said that Helen was a “one file for Medicaid, one file for me,” kind of person. But then again, I wouldn’t have had her down as a secret author…’
‘Do you think there’s something up with that?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Ren. ‘I mean, why would she tell me about a book if it was early days? Maybe it was just a confidence thing.’ She shrugged. ‘I really don’t know.’ But I’m a little rattled.
Gary nodded. ‘The other thing is – and I’m asking because I have to – was there any tension between you and Helen?’
I must meet all these devils that my family and friends are being advocates for. ‘No, no tension at all. We had an excellent relationship. We were like…’ Ren’s eyes filled up with tears. ‘…friends. It was a professional relationship, but she was like a friend. She was…just…always…there for me.’
Gary reached out for the phone.
‘OK,’ said Ren, standing up. ‘Thank you.’ She turned back as she reached the door. ‘Do you think Glenn Buddy is going to guess that it’s me?’
‘Does that matter? The point is you’re being eliminated from his investigation. I know a lot of agents, I’ve moved around a lot. I could be vouching for anyone. And Helen’s worked as a shrink for over thirty years in different places, with different law-enforcement agencies and in psychiatric units…this could be anyone.’
‘OK…’
‘Don’t worry.’
‘Thank you,’ said Ren. ‘I’m heading out now. I’ve got to speak with a possible girlfriend of Gavino Val Pando…Oh and I almost forgot: I need to fly to El Paso Monday…please…’
21
Jessica Ellerbee lived with her parents in a well-tended middle-class suburb of Denver. She was dressed in an oversized white bathrobe when she opened the door to Ren. Her blonde hair was wet and combed back with a side parting. There were traces of mascara under her eyes. She was wearing glasses with brown rectangular frames. There was an intelligent prettiness about her.
‘Hello, Jessica. My name is Ren Bryce. I’m with the FBI.’ She held up her badge.
Barely a flicker.
‘Can I come in?’ said Ren.
‘Sure,’ said Jessica. ‘I’m sorry, I’m just out of the shower.’
‘That’s OK.’
She brought Ren into the living room and curled up on the sofa, pulling her legs under her and making sure her bathrobe was tucked in everywhere.
‘I’ll have to sit beside you to show you something.’
‘Oh…’ Jessica sat up and put her feet on the floor, elaborately fixing the bathrobe again.
‘Jessica, I’m with The Rocky Mountain Safe Streets Task Force and we’re trying to find Gavino Val Pando.’
‘Uh…who…?’
Bless your heart. ‘This guy,’ said Ren. She took out her laptop and opened it on the table in front of them. It was already on and the DVD was ready to play.
‘We have a great audio-video department at the office,’ said Ren. ‘They can take video and turn it into DVD so quick, it saved me having to drag you all the way in to the office to have your memory jogged.’ She surprised Jessica when she turned to look at her. Neither of them had realized how close they were sitting. Ren shifted back a little. Away from the startled teen.
Ren hit the space bar. The screen went from black to snowy to the inside of the Brockton Filly. Jessica went very still.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Ren, hitting pause. ‘But I’m under a little time pressure with these cases and I want to stop you from having to lie when I know you don’t really want to. I also understand that this video is probably a reminder of a night at the sheriff’s office that you’d rather forget.’
Jessica let out a breath, but said nothing. Ren let the footage play a little longer and p
aused again. ‘This looks like you and Gavino are punching each other’s numbers into your cell phones…’ she said.
‘We were playing a computer game,’ said Jessica. There was sweetness in her delivery. But none in the lying.
‘OK…’ Ren played the tape. ‘Wow – a thirty-second computer game? Who won?’
Jessica shifted again in her seat.
‘And this is you leaving,’ said Ren, pointing to the screen. ‘And being ushered back in by the sheriff’s department and taken in for under-age drinking.’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t really remember,’ said Jessica.
‘That’s understandable,’ said Ren. ‘It looks as though you’d had a lot to drink.’ I had the same problem myself in that bar. And screwed up on a grander scale. But there you go. I’m twenty years older than you. And I have a badge.
‘OK – I met him once,’ said Jessica, pointing at Gavino. ‘It’s all there on the tape. We got separated at the sheriff’s office. And I never saw the guy again.’
Ren put a photo of Gavino on the table. ‘He’s not just “that guy”, though, is he?’
Jessica looked at the floor.
‘I think I can understand your position,’ said Ren. ‘You were in trouble last year and I’m sure your parents were mad at you and you swore you’d never give them any trouble again? And now your boyfriend’s connected to Denver’s Most Wanted list…’
‘My parents don’t even know that he—’
Bingo.
Jessica started to cry when she realized what she had said. She took off her glasses and wiped her tears with the sleeve of the bathrobe.
‘Are you and Gavino together?’
Jessica shook her head. ‘He…we weren’t…I didn’t sleep with him.’
‘That doesn’t concern me.’ So there’s no need to lie about that either.
‘I really didn’t,’ said Jessica. ‘He’s…so sweet. Was.’
‘So, you’re not together? I’m a little confused.’
Jessica shook her head, tears streaming down her face. ‘No. He left Denver when you guys brought out that list. He left because of me. He knew that my parents would kill me if they found out I was with him…if they found out anything about his family.’
‘I can understand that.’ Ren nodded. ‘It must be very difficult for you.’
Jessica glanced at her to check for sincerity.
‘Hey,’ said Ren. ‘I may be over twice your age, but—’
‘You’re over twice my age?’
Ren nodded. ‘But I do know what it’s like to break up with a boyfriend. It’s the worst feeling in the world. And with you and Gavino…well, things are even more complicated.’
Jessica nodded. ‘He’s not a bad guy. I don’t know why you guys are looking for him.’
‘Gavino is not safe,’ said Ren. ‘That is why we really need to find him. He’s eighteen years old, Jessica. That’s not as old as it sounds. He’s vulnerable.’
‘Why?’
‘For reasons I can’t get into. But if you could help me at all, I would be very grateful. When was the last time you were in touch?’
‘Two weeks ago.’
Ren let out a breath. ‘I really wish you hadn’t said that.’
Jessica stared at her. Nervous eyes.
Ren slid a list of phone records from a file. ‘These are phone records.’ Not yours, but hey.
‘OK, OK…’ said Jessica. ‘So you know we talked this week. But we don’t want to break up. We love each other. We don’t know what to do…’ She cried harder.
‘Where is Gavino now?’
‘He’s gone,’ said Jessica. ‘I don’t know where. I promise.’
‘Are you sure you don’t know where?’ said Ren. ‘This is really important for him. To make sure he is safe.’
‘The worst part is, I really don’t know,’ said Jessica. ‘He wouldn’t tell me where he was going.’
‘When was the last time you saw him?’
Jessica dropped eye contact. ‘Just before you came. He…saw you coming up the path. He said he knew you.’
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Jessica looked up. ‘He went out the back door.’
22
Ren clung to the steering wheel on the drive to the airport the next morning. Her eyes had started to close within minutes of leaving the house. She had gone back to the office the previous evening and told everyone about Gavino Val Pando. Then she’d endured another night of worry and anxiety. She had cried for Beau and for her parents, for herself, and for Helen. It was all too much. It had been eight a.m. when she finally made a call to her mom.
‘Hey, Mom, it’s Ren. How are you doing?’
‘I’m a wreck. Have you heard anything?’
‘No,’ said Ren.
‘They won’t tell us anything. What can we do? There must be something—’
‘Mom, I’m afraid that the best thing we can all do is just to wait. I’ve done everything I can. I called the station and Daryl Stroud is obviously not taking my calls. And at this stage, going near the Parrys is not a good idea.’
‘There has to be something you can do.’
‘No, Mom. If I go in pushing my weight around, it will just look like I think I’m better than them because I’m an agent and then, on principle, I won’t be listened to. Daryl sounds like he has a chip on his shoulder. I don’t think I’m better at doing my job than they are. I just think that I’m better at knowing Beau.’
‘They don’t care about us knowing Beau, do they?’
‘No. Every killer has a family somewhere. All the police care about are the facts. And the problem here is that this T-shirt, to them, is a fact.’
‘What are they going to do with it?’
‘They’ll test it for DNA…see if they can find any of Beau’s DNA on it…’
‘From where?’
‘Hair, sweat, skin cells…’ Et cetera.
‘But…I remembered that T-shirt. Louis definitely wore it here to lessons. They could very easily find Beau’s DNA on it.’
‘Even if they did, it wouldn’t prove anything, Mom. That can all clearly be explained. And no matter what they find on it, it’s not the T-shirt Louis was wearing when he disappeared. Obviously.’
Her mother started crying. ‘Why is someone doing this to us?’
‘I don’t know, Mom. Please don’t be upset. It’s terrible, I know. But the facts will come out and then we can put all this behind us.’
‘Do you know what else the police are doing? They’re tracking down all the other kids who Beau taught and asking them did he ever…’
‘Oh, Mom.’ Tears welled in Ren’s eyes.
‘It’s so terrible.’
‘At least none of those kids will have anything bad to say…’ said Ren.
She could hear her mother, sobbing louder now.
‘Mom, please, I know it’s not easy. But you need to relax. You’ll make yourself sick. All we can do is hope that they’ll do the right thing.’
‘Yes.’ Her mother was still sobbing.
‘Is Dad there? Can you put him on to me?’
‘Sure.’ Ren could hear the phone rattle on the table.
‘Ren?’ said her Dad.
‘Hey, Dad. How are you holding up?’
‘The whole thing is a nightmare. Your mother is a wreck.’
‘Is she listening right now?’
‘No. She’s gone into the living room.’
‘Dad, this did not come from me, but you need to go into Catskill PD and rip Daryl Stroud a new asshole…intellectually.’
‘What? How do you intellectually rip an asshole?’
‘Do it, Dad. Go in, start by playing the frail seventy-seven-year-old and—’
‘I just won the Seniors Tennis League last month…’
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, go in and be Rocky, then. Whatever…what I’m saying is, just use that sharp brain of yours to let them know that you and Mom are not two old fools who they can just dismiss.’
/> ‘Damn right, we’re not,’ said her father. ‘Your mother and I will go down there—’
‘No, no, no,’ said Ren. ‘Don’t take Mom. She’ll fall apart. Go alone. And only tell her after the fact.’
‘OK. OK.’ He sounded unsure. ‘Do you think it’s really a good idea?’
‘Yes. You won’t be doing any harm as long as you keep it even-tempered and dignified, which I know you will.’
‘All right. I’ll keep it real.’
Keep it real. ‘Do it for all of us,’ said Ren.
He paused. ‘I’ll give it my best shot.’
‘Thanks,’ said Ren. ‘I’ve got to catch a flight to El Paso—’
‘El Paso?’
‘Oh, it’s work. A woman down there came across our Fifty Most Wanted on line…has some information on one of them.’
‘Well, I hope she’s all right.’
Aww. ‘Love you, Dad.’
‘Love you, sweetheart.’
Ren spent the two-hour flight reading through the file on the Sarvas murder/disappearances. Detectives had gone to the Sarvas boys’ high school at the time and interviewed all their classmates. Including the boys Ren was flying in to talk to: Luke’s friends, John Reiff, Ben Racono, and Mark Bayne. No, they had said, there was nothing unusual in the months leading up to Luke’s disappearance. No, there was nothing unusual that day. No, there was no sense that he had family problems. No, he did not do drugs. No, he did not express concerns about anyone following him.
Oh, but there were a few more questions you should have been asked. Or if you had been asked them, they were questions you should have answered truthfully.
The three boys had been placed in separate rooms in El Paso police HQ. They were already rattled that detectives had brought them in to meet with an FBI agent from Denver. And each time Ren opened the door to one of the rooms, each boy looked rattled to see a woman walk in. Ren’s script didn’t vary and after the question none of them was expecting to hear, the first two boys responded: ‘I want a lawyer.’
Ren’s last hope was John Reiff. When she walked into the interview room, she was more surprised by him than he was by her. Unlike his dude friends, Reiff was pale-skinned with mousey, shoulder-length hair. A Twi-hard’s dream. He was dressed in beige linen trousers and wore a light sports coat over a pale pink shirt. His legs were crossed and Ren could see one foot – in green-and-purple retro Nikes – stretching out from under the table. Like the others, he was tall and loose-limbed, making the same effort to appear relaxed.