As other detectives filtered into the main area, the noise level rose.
Graham said, “Hey, Callahan, any new psychic leads to chase down today?” He burst out in his loud, raucous laugh, and some of the other guys tittered along with him like little girls.
“Lay off,” Mathers said. “Don’t you have better things to do than act like a bunch of kids?”
Graham’s expression darkened as he turned back to his paperwork.
Max didn’t need anyone to protect him. “I’d go to every psychic in town if I thought something would lead me to that girl. It would be a lot more productive than sitting around talking out of my ass.”
Some of the guys laughed at that, too. Graham slammed his drawer shut and stalked out of the room. He didn’t like being the brunt of a joke, but he sure enjoyed grinding up a guy now and then. Just like he teased Max about his resin kits, and Holland about the gory police novels he was trying to get published, but he bristled at any comment about the motorcycle graveyard around his double wide.
Just to prove Max could be objective about Olivia’s innocence, he ran a check on Sebastian LaForge, the only person she called with any frequency. His real name was Bob. He had a number of speeding tickets, but nothing else on file. Sebastian/Bob had shown him a metal art sculpture he’d done. Where did he work on his art? Had to be a warehouse, somewhere he could use a blowtorch. Someplace a kid could be stashed, a place without windows, with a bathroom. A blowtorch could create a cage.
Max blew out a long breath. He was basing his suspicions on what Olivia had “seen” in her vision. Everything was getting all twisted inside him. He got up and stretched, then grabbed his coffee cup and went to the break room. He splashed cold water on his face and caught his reflection on the metal towel dispenser. He looked as bad as Sam did.
When he returned to his desk, Sam had Max’s cell phone. “Dr. Gambel called,” he said with a smirk in his voice to match the one on his face. “Olivia Howe’s not technically blind. There was nothing wrong with her eyes, not a scratch, no chemical damage, nothing. Her pupils even dilated. He thinks she convinced herself she was blind to fool her abductor.” He tossed the phone to Max. “Her abductor?”
Nick Mathers looked their way, obviously picking up the confrontational tone in Sam’s voice.
Max grabbed up his phone and jacket. “Let’s take a walk, Sam.”
They headed out the back way where the throng of reporters wouldn’t pelt them with questions about the investigation. Max was glad that it was Huntington’s job to deal with them.
Twenty minutes later, Max had told Sam what he could. He left out the part about Olivia “seeing” the shamrock and that she thought his father had taken Phaedra.
“So why couldn’t you tell me she was a kidnap victim?” Sam asked.
“Because there are a few other details I have to check out.”
“Are you looking at her as a suspect, Max? I don’t understand all the secrecy.”
“That’s all I can tell you right now. After what she went through, I don’t see her being involved with another abduction.”
“Let me see her case file.”
“Give me some time on this, Sam. For the sake of our friendship.” When Sam hesitated to commit, Max said, “You keep dogging Burns. Find out who he was having dinner with. If it’s Olivia, I’ll turn over everything I have.”
Sam whipped out a Polaroid photo of Olivia walking Stasia. “I got it this morning. I’m going to show it to the waiter. If she’s the one he was seeing, I’m bringing her in.” He tilted his head. “Do you believe that’s she’s somehow connected to the missing girl?”
“I don’t know what I believe anymore. I don’t disbelieve her the way you do.” He ran his hand over his face, squeezing his burning eyes shut for a moment.
“You can’t think she’s telling the truth. She’s lying about being blind, no doubt about that. She ‘sees’ way too much. Even you doubted it, obviously.”
“I just want to clear it up.”
“Well, now we know.” Sam started to walk away.
“Hey, Sam. Do you know a cop named Bill Williams?”
“Never heard of him. You mean someone named their kid William Williams?”
“Maybe.” He was going to have to dig further on Williams.
Max called Dr. Gambel back to verify what he’d told Sam. He also got the name of the neurologist Gambel had referred Olivia to: Dr. Bhatti. Why did these things have to come together on Saturdays? He headed inside to get the number. He had to put the question of Olivia’s blindness to rest.
“Good morning, Olivia. It’s officer Williams. I just wanted to check in with you.” He leaned into the phone booth near her building. “Have you connected to Phaedra Burns lately? I haven’t gotten anything, and it’s driving me mad. If something happens to her…” His voice broke perfectly.
“She’s all right, at least so far. I saw the green walls you mentioned. You had that right. And … I think I know who her kidnapper is.”
He had to catch his breath. “What?”
“Detective Callahan is checking into it. It’s too long to get into now. I can let you know when he verifies it. Give me a number where I can reach you.”
If Max was checking into it, he must believe her. “Meet me for lunch. Tell me what you know. Maybe I can help on my end.” He didn’t want to risk going to her apartment again in case someone identified him. He needed to lure her out this time.
“Give me your number, Bill. I’ll get back with you on that.”
Was she getting suspicious? “You didn’t tell Max about me, did you? You didn’t mention my name.”
A brief hesitation. “No, of course not.”
He couldn’t be sure. He’d had her, right up until when he wouldn’t give her his number. So he would. “Okay, ready? My number is 464—”
He severed the connection.
CHAPTER 14
Olivia waited for Bill to call her back, but he never did. That was strange. Maybe his cell phone had lost its signal, or his partner had walked up. Or maybe…she thought of Max’s suspicions and shivered. She couldn’t believe she’d been duped, especially if Williams turned out to be Phaedra’s kidnapper—and hers.
“Guess we’ll go for our morning walk,” she said, sending Stasia into a frantic happy dance. Or at least it sounded like it, her claws tapping and scraping on the floor, excited whines and yips.
She could hardly enjoy the crisp air and sunshine washing over her as they made their way back from the park thirty minutes later. All she could think about was Phaedra. She had once again felt a ripple of unease. “Father” hadn’t scared Phaedra when he’d come early that morning. He’d probably given her back her clothes and then left without feeding her. She was confused and hungry, and there wasn’t a damn thing Olivia could do to help her.
She wasn’t sure what made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She continued walking, but all of her senses were focused on her surroundings. People chatted and laughed, and Christmas music filled in the background. All normal, cheerful happenings. Maybe it was just her worry over Phaedra that was skewing everything.
Someone brushed up behind her. She came to an abrupt halt, causing a couple of people to skirt around her. She turned and inhaled. No particular scent stood out in the cool breeze.
“Terry?” she asked.
No answer, just bits and pieces of conversation as people passed by. He always answered if he were around. She quickly headed home, her unease sucking away the warmth of the sun. Terry had claimed to see someone lurking around her apartment. Was he sneaking in and then making up the guy to scare her? Who else could it be?
The faint scent of Polo lingered in the upstairs hallway when she exited the elevator. Footsteps sounded on the carpet, and then a door opened and closed. She knocked on the door across from hers, sure that was the one she’d just heard. “Hello? It’s Olivia Howe, your neighbor.”
She could hear nothing inside, and no one answered.
She sure hadn’t imagined hearing a cell phone ring in that apartment. Mr. Ford, the building manager, had told her that a corporation had recently bought the apartment when she’d asked him about it. He’d been vague about the corporation’s name. Judy had brushed her off when Olivia had asked her about the apartment’s owner. Maybe her paranoia was just stretching to encompass something as innocent as a CEO’s love nest.
She stepped into her apartment a few minutes later and stood perfectly still. Nothing felt out of the ordinary. No smells, no sounds, no feeling of someone being there. Stasia didn’t growl. Olivia locked the door, released Stasia, and started a pot of coffee. What she needed was a few minutes to think through recent events. She fixed a cup of coffee and carried it out to the balcony.
Her foot caught on something, and she pitched forward. Hot coffee spilled across her arm and the mug shattered on the floor. She tried to grab something on the way down and ended up taking one of the heavy iron chairs with her. Her shoulder took the brunt of the fall.
For a crazy second, she thought someone was there, ready to take advantage of her fallen state to finish the job. She reached around for something to help push up with and found that her small glass and iron table was only inches from where she’d landed…inches from her head. With a pounding heart, she scrambled to her feet and felt for the masking tape. The table had been moved more than a foot from its original location.
She traced her steps and found what had tripped her—a broom handle. The woman who cleaned for her wouldn’t have left it outside. It was propped up on the doorstop, positioned to trip her. Max had checked out here the night before, but he probably wouldn’t have noticed it. He wouldn’t have realized the furniture had been moved, but she knew exactly where everything belonged. A knot tightened in her chest.
When she heard the doorbell, she hoped it was Max.
She held her sore shoulder as she walked to the door. “Who is it?”
“Detective Sam O’Reilly with the Palomera Police Department.”
Not only disappointment, but dread. She opened the door. “Yes?”
“I need you to come down to the station and answer some questions.”
This she didn’t need. Why wasn’t Max here? “Let me feel your badge.”
He hesitated, and his voice held a patronizing note when he said, “Sure thing.” A few seconds later, he said, “Amazing how your hand goes right to the badge, isn’t it?”
She returned his sarcastic tone with her own. “Yes, it is. What’s this about, anyway? Don’t tell me you’ve become a believer.”
“After making asses of ourselves at the harbor looking for the gray boat with green walls? Not likely.”
“Why can’t I answer your questions here?”
“I’ll explain when we get to the station.”
“All right, but would you please do me a favor? Take a look at my balcony and tell me if anything looks awry. I think someone came into my apartment last night and rearranged my furniture in order to trip me. This way.”
She heard him following her. “Was anything taken?”
“I don’t think so, but I can’t be sure.”
“Stereo and television are still here. So are the appliances and your computer.”
She opened the French doors and stepped aside. “When I returned home last night, these doors were open. Detective Callahan was with me. He saw it.”
He stepped onto the balcony. “Was the front door unlocked? Had it been jimmied?”
“No.”
“There’s what tripped you. The broom fell over.” She heard him set it in the corner. “Otherwise, everything looks normal.” He stepped back inside and shut the door. “You think someone broke in, rearranged your furniture, and planted a broom to trip you?” His disbelief was obvious. “You couldn’t have fallen over the balcony railing from tripping. So someone did all this because?” When she didn’t answer immediately, he said, “Surely you have a theory. Or maybe a psychic feeling?”
She wanted to smack that sarcasm right out of his voice, but that was probably a felony. “Someone’s either trying to hurt me or scare me. Possibly Terry Carlton, my ex-boyfriend.”
He laughed—laughed! “Yeah, right. Because the guy has so much money and can’t get any woman besides one who can’t even see all those rippling muscles of his, he’s stalking you. Look, I don’t see anything suspicious here other than a woman whose imagination has run amuck. I’ve got more important things to do than check out the arrangement of your patio furniture.”
She clenched her hands at her side. Felony, felony. “Like take me in for questioning?”
“Exactly. Let’s go.”
Damn. She let out a huff of breath. “I need to harness my dog—”
“You won’t need her. I’ll guide you.”
“I always keep my dog with me.” She donned her coat again and got Stasia ready. With one last sigh, she turned off the coffee pot and headed to the door.
O’Reilly didn’t say much as he drove to the station. She wanted to ask why Max wasn’t there, but that smacked of a need for him that didn’t exist. She wondered how much this guy knew about what she’d told Max.
After he led her into the noisy station and down several hallways, they ended up in a quiet room. He settled her into a smooth, plastic chair and asked, “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?”
“No.” She hoped this wasn’t going to take long. Then, out of long-engrained habit, she said, “Thank you.”
He was doing something near her face. She felt air move across her skin and involuntarily backed away. Someone else walked into the room.
“This is Detective Tom Graham. He’ll be sitting in on our conversation.”
The man only grunted in greeting and took a seat some distance from her. She smelled cheap cologne and tried to recall if it was the same one she’d smelled before.
O’Reilly’s voice lost its former polite, reserved tone. “There are a few things I need answers to, and it will be easier on you if you give us the truth now.”
“Don’t I have a right to a lawyer?”
“Sure, you do. Do you need one, Miss Howe?”
“No. I haven’t done anything wrong.” Sending for a lawyer would make her look guilty, that’s what he implied. “Go ahead and ask whatever it is you have to ask so I can get home.”
“Oh, we have a few issues to deal with. Let’s start with you knowing about the shamrock.”
On the way to Dr. Bhatti’s office, Max detoured to Sam and Annie’s place. The side street gave him a skewed view of their backyard, where balloons caught the sunlight in blinding flashes. About twenty kids were in attendance, some playing on the swing set Max had bought Petey last year.
He spotted Petey racing around the yard wearing a gaudy gold crown. The kid started to glance his way, maybe hoping to catch a glimpse of his father’s car. Sam wasn’t there either. Annie followed her son’s gaze, but Max had already hit the gas pedal.
He arrived at the doctor’s office early and waited outside the carved mahogany doors until Dr. Bhatti pulled into the spot next to Max’s.
He shook the doctor’s hand. “Thanks for meeting me on a Saturday.”
“You’re welcome.” Dr. Bhatti returned the handshake, then opened the door and flicked on the lights. “But as I said on the phone, I’m not sure how much I can tell you. Olivia Howe’s case was a long time ago.” He led Max into an office lined with cherry wood bookshelves and picked up the file sitting on his desk. “I had my secretary pull the file for me. Please, sit down.” His high-backed leather chair squeaked when he sat in it. “And there’s doctor-patient confidentiality.”
“I understand. Here’s the bottom line: this girl is missing.” He set Phaedra’s picture on the desk.
“Yes, I saw that on the news. Very sad. But how is Olivia involved with this?” The surprise was evident in his voice.
To help loosen the doctor’s tongue, Max decided to be honest. “My partner thinks she’s a suspect, but I don’t
. I’m trying to clear her.”
“Give me a minute to look over her file and reorient myself. I’ll tell you what I am comfortable divulging.”
“You can tell me in general terms, if that makes you feel better.”
They exchanged a knowing look, and the doctor scanned the file. Max left Phaedra’s picture on the desk in case the doctor had second thoughts about helping.
After a few minutes, Dr. Bhatti closed the file. “You know about her kidnapping, I presume? She was referred to me when they couldn’t find anything wrong with her eyes, yet she claimed she couldn’t see.”
Claimed. The word stuck in Max’s throat. “Right. I need to know if she’s really blind.”
“Blind? She’s still blind?”
Max nodded. “She has a seeing eye dog, Braille labels, the works.”
Dr. Bhatti did not look pleased. He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “First of all, my job was to confirm that there wasn’t any physical reason for her blindness. I can tell you that much, that she had no physical indications. There was evidence of a head injury, a mild one, but no evidence of permanent injury to the brain. Whoever kidnapped her hadn’t done anything to her eyes.”
“So she is faking her blindness.” He hated that conclusion, and he hated that he hated it. He shouldn’t care either way, other than as a lead in the case.
“Malingering.”
“Pardon?”
“It’s called malingering when a patient pretends to be blind. I can tell you that she wasn’t malingering either.”
And he shouldn’t feel relief at that, but he did. Relief and confusion. “So if she’s not malingering, and she’s not blind…”
Dr. Bhatti steepled his fingers and rested his chin on the tips of them. “Have you ever heard of conversion disorder?”
“No.”
“How about hysterical neurosis or hysterical blindness? Those are other terms for it, though we don’t use them anymore. Unfortunately, back then, I did call it hysterical blindness, and that may have been the problem. I’m speaking in general terms now, you understand.” He gave Max a pointed look. “I have seen several cases, so I can speak of what I have seen.
Blindsight [Now You See Me] (Romantic Suspense) Page 17