Compulsion (Max Revere Novels Book 2)

by Brennan, Allison

  It was nine in the morning when they arrived and kids were playing ball on the quiet street. David knocked on Anna’s door, Nick standing beside him.

  A security chain allowed Anna to open the door a mere two inches. She looked only marginally like the photo C. J. had found—she’d dyed her blond hair dark, and she’d lost weight she didn’t need to lose, leaving her face gaunt and strained.

  “Yes?” she asked, looking nervously from David to Nick.

  She was skittish, fearful. David wished he’d thought to bring Riley with him—a female might make her more comfortable.

  “I’m David Kane. We need your help.”

  “I don’t know you.”

  She was about to close the door.

  Nick showed his badge. “Detective Nick Santini. We’re not here on official business, but this is a serious situation related to Adam Bachman.”

  Her voice was a mere squeak. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

  Nick said, “Your friend Janice Brody said you quit Greenhaven and disappeared because of Adam Bachman, and now we believe he’s responsible for kidnapping a woman.”

  “He’s in jail. Oh, God, did they let him out?”

  “No. He’s still behind bars, but we are desperate for information and need your help. Please.”

  Nick had a calm, soothing, commanding voice. His “please” wasn’t a request, it was a polite demand. Anna’s lip trembled.

  “I don’t want to move again.”

  “No one will know you talked to us. This isn’t official.”

  She closed the door and they heard the chain slide, then she opened it again and let them in. Her living room was sparse and clean, but her dining-room table was covered with paper. “I teach second grade,” she said with the first smile David had seen. “I’m cleaning out my files from last year, to start the new school year fresh.”

  Her smile wavered. “How did you find me?”

  “I’m head of security for NET programming,” David said. “We have a good research staff. Bristol is your mother’s maiden name.”

  “I probably overreacted, but—it’s—I was so scared back then.”

  Nick leaned forward and said, “It’s good to trust your instincts, Ms. Bristol. We have a picture for you to look at. We’re hoping you can identify this person.”

  “I thought this was about Adam?”

  “It is,” Nick said.

  “Did he really kill all those people?” Her voice was growing smaller, more fearful.

  “Yes,” Nick said.

  “I—I knew.”

  “You suspected him of murder? When he was at Greenhaven?”

  “No—but—there was something off about him, and it just got worse the longer he was there. I can’t really explain it, just … he came in for one thing, but his treatment was completely different from the others. I asked questions and no one would tell me why. I was a counselor, trying to help, just doing my job. And he wasn’t one of my patients, so I forgot until one of the counselors quit and then he was assigned to me. That first session … he looked at me … and something was wrong. He’d always been quiet, clean, obsessively neat, and polite. But he’d been watching me, he told me he saw that I loved flowers, that I cared for them in the garden. I thought maybe this was a breakthrough for him, because he’d never have put his hands in the dirt when he first came. I asked if he wanted to help prune the roses. He shook his head, said he didn’t want to touch them. And he said, and I’ll never forget it, “‘What do you feel when your flowers die?’”

  She visibly shuddered.

  “It wasn’t what he said as much as how he said it. And it freaked me out.”

  “And you quit?” Nick prompted.

  “Not then—I told Janice I was upset about a patient, but that was all. We’re not supposed to talk about the patients, and Janice wasn’t a counselor. But the next day…” Her voice trailed off and she looked at her tightly clasped fingers.

  “Janice said you left in the middle of the day,” David prompted.

  “Adam was watching me and I was so upset that I ran to my office. Not an office, really, we all had semiprivate cubicles. I was writing up a report and Adam walked in and handed me a bouquet of roses.”

  “And that made you feel uncomfortable,” David said.

  “Yes. Because they were my roses, from my bushes, and they were all dead.”

  David took the picture of Max’s kidnapper from a folder. “We believe that this person was at Greenhaven and may have known Adam. Do you recognize him?”

  He turned the picture so she could see it.

  “Cole Baker,” she said immediately. “He was at Greenhaven for anger management issues. He should have been in prison. He was seventeen when he hit his mother. His mother didn’t want to press charges, but his dad insisted he get help, and Nanette Jackson, our director, agreed. Cole was the type of guy you avoided. If he looked at you, you looked away.”

  “Was he there the same time as Adam?”

  She nodded. “He might still be there. He began working at Greenhaven after his treatment. Maintenance. I saw him all the time because I used to care for the roses. He trimmed hedges and mowed the lawn and fixed things. He was actually very handy. But everyone was a little scared of him.”

  “Who was his doctor?”

  “Same as Adam Bachman. Dr. Duvall.”

  * * *

  Marco Lopez had to admit that Dr. Ullman, even retired, had more power than most of the active FBI agents he knew. Dr. Ullman had put in thirty years, helped grow the Behavioral Sciences Unit, and even though he’d retired ten years ago, he was still called to consult several times a year. Marco had helped secure the warrant to allow Dr. Ullman to conduct a psychiatric assessment of Adam Bachman. But before calling Milligan, Marco called Bachman’s lawyer as a courtesy. The counselor didn’t answer and Marco left a message.

  “His client is waiting for a verdict and he’s unavailable?” Marco muttered.

  “The calm before the storm,” Ullman said. “Max believes he took the case for the ancillary benefits.”

  “What defense lawyer doesn’t?” Marco said.

  “There are a few who are reputable.”

  “You’re being sarcastic.”

  “You’re being judgmental, Marco. The system works more than it fails.”

  Marco had his faults, but he was a decorated FBI agent who closed cases and put bad guys away. That satisfied him completely.

  He frowned. Not completely. He missed Max. He loved her with a passion that she’d never understood. And he knew she loved him back, though she’d never said it. He’d often wondered if she would even recognize the emotion, because they were combustible together.

  Thinking of her hurt—or worse—made him see red. When they’d been together, he’d done everything he could to protect her, but she always crossed the line. She always risked herself. He wanted her safe, and that damn bodyguard was supposed to protect her. How had she slipped away? How had someone gotten close enough to take her?

  Was she even alive?

  “Marco?” Arthur said quietly. “Are you going to call the D.A.?”

  “Yeah. Sorry.” He punched in the numbers to Milligan’s private cell phone.

  “We’re all worried.”

  “I know,” he said brusquely. Milligan answered and Marco said, “Counselor, this is Marco Lopez. I have a federal warrant requiring you to grant Dr. Arthur Ullman access to Adam Bachman immediately. We’re on our way to Manhattan Detention now, but I can hold off if you’d like to observe. As a courtesy,” he added.

  “I’m sorry, Agent Lopez, but that won’t be possible.”

  Marco mentally swore. “I have a warrant. You can’t stop this interview.”

  “You’ll need more than a warrant, Lopez. You’ll need a psychic. Adam Bachman killed himself last night. He’s at the morgue.”

  * * *

  “Answer it,” David said. “Put him on speaker.”

  Nick glanced down at Davi
d’s phone. Marco Lopez. He answered the call and pressed speaker. “Santini.”

  “Where’s Kane?”

  “Driving. You’re on speaker.”

  “Bachman is dead. He killed himself. Where are you?”

  “On our way to Greenhaven.”

  “Turn around—”

  David interrupted. “Like hell I will.”

  “Dammit, David! I told you to let me handle it!”

  “I told you what Ms. Hudson said to keep you in the loop.”

  “This is a federal investigation—”

  “Hang up, Santini,” David said.

  Nick’s finger hovered above the off button.

  “Don’t!” Marco screamed. “Shit, David.”

  “Are you certain Bachman committed suicide?”

  “They haven’t done the autopsy, but initial findings are fairly conclusive. Dr. Ullman and I are on our way to see his attorney. David, please turn around and come back to New York.”

  Nick asked, “Have you located Maxine?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then no,” Nick said, catching David’s eye. He nodded. “We sent you the name and last known address of the individual who kidnapped her, and we’re following up on this end. We’re nearly there. Time is against us here. I’ve been a cop for a long time, Agent Lopez.”

  Marco didn’t say anything for a minute, and Nick thought he’d hung up on him. Then he said, “Just keep me in the loop, Santini.”

  “Scout’s honor.” He hung up.

  “Marco’s competent, but he likes being in control,” David said.

  “It’s amazing he and Maxine didn’t kill each other.”

  David smirked. “Luck. But that’s in the past.”

  “Is it?”

  David glanced at him. “Yes.”

  Nick wasn’t so sure. At least on Marco’s end. Nick was good at reading people—most cops were.

  He’d had his share of failed relationships, including a bad marriage. He didn’t always know why they failed, whether it was him or the woman or a combination of both. He hadn’t planned on getting involved with Max, the weekend they spent in bed together notwithstanding. But he couldn’t get her out of his head. He enjoyed their Skype calls. When she had flown out to California spontaneously two weeks ago, he thought she was insane. A cross-country flight for one night with him?

  He’d also felt pampered and happy. And happiness had been eluding him lately.

  David said, “Max met Marco when she was twenty-two and her college roommate disappeared.”

  “I read her book. After I met her, I was curious.”

  “So you know what she went through down in Miami. If you think that Marco is a threat to you, he’s not.”

  “I know.”

  “Sounds like you’re worried.”

  “I’m not worried about anything except Max’s life right now.” He paused. “And I know Max well enough to know that she’s the only threat to any relationship she has.”

  After a long pause David said, “You already know Max well.”

  David’s phone rang again. Nick said, “Caller ID reads Sally O’Hara.”

  “Speaker.”

  David turned off the highway and headed toward Greenhaven. He said, “Sally, you’re on speaker with me and Nick Santini. Find something?”

  “No one has recognized Baker from the photo, but now that we have an ID, I put out an APB.”

  “What?” David exclaimed. “I thought we agreed to keep this as quiet as possible.”

  Sally paused. “The FBI wanted it.”

  “Marco. Damn him.”

  “David, I understand what you’re thinking, but the feds handle cases like this all the time.”

  “And if this bastard knows we’re on to him, he could easily kill Max and disappear.”

  Nick agreed with Marco on this one—the more people looking for Max and her kidnapper, the better. But he didn’t comment.

  “Marco didn’t release the information that Max is missing,” Sally said. “The APB is for a material witness, he’s keeping the rest close to the vest.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I have a preliminary report on the Palazzolos’ murder. I told Marco, because I thought it might help Dr. Ullman with Bachman, but I guess you heard that he killed himself.”

  “We did.”

  “We don’t have much because of the condition of the bodies, but cause of death for the female was strangulation. Her hyoid bone was broken, and the M.E. is certain of the cause of death.”

  “I thought the bones were melted or destroyed.”

  “Only below the shoulders. The male victim is preliminary—he had a severe blow to the head, but the M.E. said it wouldn’t have killed him. They don’t believe he was strangled, but that’s all I know now.”

  “Thanks, Sally.”

  They hung up and David pointed to a vast expanse of lawn on his left. “Greenhaven. We made good time.”

  Nick said, “You going to be okay in there?”

  He glanced at him. “I’m good. Let’s do this. You play the cop.”

  Nick raised an eyebrow. “Play?”

  “Figure of speech.”

  They parked in the visitor lot and walked up the grand stairs to the main doors. Inside, it was cool and quiet. Nick showed his badge to the receptionist and said, “We need to speak with Dr. Duvall.”

  “I’m sorry, he’s not in this afternoon. I’ll get our director for you.” She practically ran, doe-eyed, from her desk.

  Nick said to David, “I’m going to push on the employment records. Those will be easier to obtain than medical.”

  “We still need to talk to Duvall.”

  “Agreed.”

  Nanette Jackson was an attractive, nervous woman. She seemed surprised that a cop was standing in the lobby. “What may I help you with?”

  Nick showed her the photo of Cole Baker. “We’re looking for this man, Cole Baker. We have information that he’s an employee of yours.”

  She looked momentarily confused. “No, no—I mean, he was, but he hasn’t been working here for over a year. He worked in maintenance.”

  “I need your last known address for him.”

  She hesitated. “I don’t know if I can give that information out.”

  “He’s wanted for felony kidnapping and is a suspect in a murder investigation,” Nick said, his voice low and steady. “I can and will get a warrant, but if the delay causes the death of another person, I will make sure the media knows exactly who caused the delay.”

  She caved. Nick saw what Max must have seen—an inner weakness that Max had exploited to gain information.

  Employment records were not sacrosanct. Businesses could hide behind privacy laws, but in a criminal investigation those laws were much grayer. And she knew that a warrant was inevitable.

  “I didn’t know him well,” she said quickly as she led the way to her office. “He worked directly under our building and maintenance supervisor.”

  “We’ll want to talk to him as well,” Nick said.

  “He doesn’t work weekends. I’ll give you his name and number.”

  She was flustered, but had begun to recover. She unlocked a file cabinet and pulled out a folder. Checked it, then handed it to Nick. “Is that what you need?”

  Nick looked at the information. Baker had been hired nine years ago, and left employment nearly two years ago, in July. “Was he fired?”

  “No. He gave notice and left.”

  “Forwarding address?”

  “If he left one, it would be in the file.”

  It wasn’t. But there was other information—parents, emergency contacts, social security number, previous addresses.

  He handed it back to her. “Please make me a copy.”

  “Of course.” She left the room.

  “What do you think?” Nick asked David.

  “She’s worried about what he did and whether it’ll bite Greenhaven in the ass.”

  “Now we’re going
to push.”

  “I thought you did pretty good getting that info without much effort.”

  “We don’t have what we need yet.”

  Jackson came back and handed Nick a copy of the file. “Thank you,” he said. “One other thing, we’ll be getting a warrant for Mr. Baker’s medical file as well.”

  “What? I—what do you mean?”

  “He was a patient here prior to his employment.”

  “I can’t discuss our patients.”

  “You don’t have to. We know he was.”

  “How do you know? We have a strict privacy policy. Our guests insist that—”

  Nick didn’t answer her question. “We also know that Adam Bachman was a patient here, and that he and Mr. Baker associated together.”

  “I can’t—” She stopped, mouth open. She wasn’t a dumb woman, she made the connection immediately. He had said that Baker was a suspect in a murder investigation, and she must know about the Bachman trial. “I—you’re not suggesting that Cole knew something about those murders?”

  Nick didn’t comment. “Please get his file ready, the FBI is in the process of getting a warrant, and the faster you comply, the faster we resolve this issue.”

  David said, “We need to speak with Doctor Carter Duvall. He was the psychiatrist for both Mr. Bachman and Mr. Baker.”

  “I—” She was going to stall, then she said, “I can give you his cell phone number. I can’t discuss who might have been a patient of his. But he won’t talk about his patients. He could be sued, lose his license—you understand.”

  “Yes, we do.” David handed her his business card. “Send me all his contact information.”

  Jackson stared at the card. Confusion twisted her face. “You work for Maximum Exposure?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re here about Mr. Baker? I don’t understand…” Her voice trailed off, then she shook her head and said, “I’ve been trying to reach Ms. Revere all morning, but she hasn’t returned my calls.”

  “Why?” David asked.

  “Her assistant. Riley Butler. She’s in the hospital.”

  David didn’t say anything, so Nick picked up the silence. “How do you know this?”