by Rachel Grant
“And she might be exactly what she seems.”
She nodded. “I’ve only seen her twice. I’m just getting to know her. But Isabel…” She shook her head. “This will gut her if it’s true.” Isabel was already a wreck over Chase’s condition.
“How would you feel about…wearing my headset under the collar of your shirt? It has a record function, and I could listen in in real time.”
“That would be illegal, wouldn’t it? She would have expectation of privacy.”
“I don’t really care if it’s legal or not. I’m not looking for evidence to use in a court of law. I just… I want you to express concern for Chase without saying why you’re worried. I want to hear what she does with that.”
“Doctor-patient privilege would prevent her from saying anything.”
“Exactly.”
“Okay, but if I lose a great psychotherapist because she’s pissed over being recorded, you’re helping me find a new one.” She hoped to hell Sean was wrong.
“Deal.”
Several blocks from the doctor’s office, Sean pulled over and retrieved the headset from his gear in the back of the SUV. He grabbed a receiver that looked like a normal pair of headphones and tucked it in his pocket, then he hid the thin gray headset under Hazel’s collar, showing her how to turn on and off the record function.
“Turn it off if everything is cool and you want privacy for your session.” He dropped a kiss on her lips.
She smiled. “I’m going to tell her all about my plans to tie you up and have my way with you tonight.”
“Hmm. I probably should turn off the broadcast function. But then, Keith will enjoy telling Trina how much we like her prize.”
The doctor’s office was inside a stately old house that dated to the late eighteen hundreds. Sean parked in the small lot at the rear of the structure, and they took the stairs to the second floor, where Parks had her office.
They arrived a few minutes early, finding the waiting room empty. The office—the whole house, really—was strangely quiet. Even the receptionist was missing from her post.
Dr. Parks stepped out of her office and greeted them.
“Where is everyone?” Hazel asked.
“I don’t usually take appointments on Thursdays. It’s my day to do paperwork and consult with the doctors and counselors with shared patients. Plus it leaves me available to take emergency appointments like yours.”
“Oh. Thank you for being willing to see me today, I didn’t realize I was interrupting—”
“Not a problem. I’m glad you chose not to wait until next week. I’m concerned you had another blackout.” She glanced at Hazel’s bandaged hand. “And that you harmed yourself during a fugue state.”
“Well, I mostly harmed an iPad. And a mug. The damage to my hand was collateral.”
Parks smiled, and Hazel remembered why she’d liked her from the start. She had warm eyes, and her laugh was quick and genuine.
Sean was crazy to suspect her of anything.
“Dr. Parks, do you mind if I sit in on Hazel’s session today?” Sean asked.
“I have no objections,” Hazel said, before she was asked.
The doctor studied him for a moment, her brow furrowed in thought. Finally she said, “To prepare for the session, I went to Voigt Forum. Obviously, you are involved, and today’s incident… It was about your relationship. I think, to give Hazel the best opportunity to gain from this session, she needs to feel free to be completely open and honest about her emotions about the incident, and your presence, no matter how supportive, would hinder that. I’m sorry.”
Sean nodded. “I understand.”
Before Hazel could follow the doctor into the room, he pulled her to him. It looked like he was cupping her face to kiss her, but Hazel felt his thumb slide below her collar and hit the record button.
“I’ll be right here,” he said. He pulled his headphones from his pocket. “Listening to an audiobook.”
She smiled and followed Dr. Parks down the hall and into her office. Hazel settled into her favorite easy chair.
“Mr. Logan is quite taken with you.”
“It’s mutual. Has been for a long time, but we both finally stopped resisting.”
“Well, it’s easy to understand the resistance. Being an interracial couple can be hard on both sides.”
Hazel frowned. “That’s not why we were resisting. It never even crossed my mind.”
“Oh, I’m sure it did, subconsciously. And look at what happened today? You’re already getting a taste of the difficulties.”
Had her subconscious held her back from Sean because he was Black? The thought gave her pause, and then she remembered all the times she’d thrown herself at the guy. Yeah. No. Skin color hadn’t been a factor in what had kept them apart.
“Given that you’ve now fainted twice, I’m thinking it’s time to try hypnosis. We need to get down to the root of the problem and figure out how to stop these episodes from recurring before it happens while you’re driving a car.”
“I’m afraid I can’t submit to hypnotherapy right now. I’m working on a criminal case and can’t divulge details. As my issues are related to my work, hypnotherapy would necessarily have to probe that area, but I could jeopardize the investigation.”
“I appreciate your concerns, but doctor-patient privilege protects you in this instance. No one can call this session into question. And you do know of my work with the CIA and FBI. I maintain the highest security clearance so I can continue to work with patients I helped when I worked for the government.”
Hazel shifted in her seat. “I understand, but I still can’t go into a hypnotic trance right now. It would be unethical for me to do so.”
“Fine. We’ll do this the hard way, then.”
There was a biting edge to the doctor’s voice, and Hazel was glad Sean was listening in. It could be simple annoyance because she’d rearranged her schedule to accommodate Hazel and now Hazel was rejecting the quickest path to the heart of her issues, or she could be irritated because she’d hoped to get Hazel into a suggestive state.
“We’ll have to discuss your work, of course, because that’s why you’re here, but I’ll avoid questions about your analysis. Fair enough?”
“That’s fine.”
“Okay, then. When last we spoke, you’d recovered bones from a lake, and you were conducting analysis in a lab at your cousin’s estate, with Mr. Logan present to help you if you suffered an episode at work. Has that worked out for you?”
Hazel frowned, remembering her last session. In all the chaos that had gone on in the preceding days, she’d forgotten that Dr. Parks knew where the lab was. In fact, aside from the Virginia ME and a few engineers at Talon & Drake, had anyone else known?
Of course, someone from the ME’s office or Talon & Drake could have divulged the location if the person asking appeared to have good reason to ask the question—as the sheriff who might make arrests based on Hazel’s findings could easily claim.
But Dr. Parks’s question today could also be a clever way of asking if the bones had been destroyed in the blast.
Surely there were news reports on the explosion? But then, the FBI had probably released a report stating a gas water heater in an old outbuilding blew. Hazel had been too focused on her analysis to remember to ask the cover story.
She looked at the doctor and gave her a tight smile. Should she be honest with her psychotherapist, or lie to a suspect? Finally, she said, “Yes. The lab is very comfortable and close to home. The work itself has been easier than I expected.” That was all true.
Dr. Parks smiled. “I’m glad to hear it! I read something about an explosion on the Ravissant estate and feared for you, but the news report said everyone who lived on the property was out of town for a wedding.”
“Yes.”
“And then there was that footage of you with Senator Ravissant at the rally. Which was also published on Voigt Forum. Didn’t look like much of a wedding to me.”
“That was before the wedding.” Hazel’s unease grew. What was Dr. Parks probing for? And now she wondered if the woman usually visited Voigt Forum, or if she’d only gone to the site today to prep for their session. “You know, I called you today because…well, I’d just passed out. But after that, Sean and I talked it through, and I’m really feeling better about the whole thing. I’m mean, who cares if sex pictures were posted on Voigt Forum? Only racists go to that site, and only morons believe the crap posted there.”
“Studies have shown there is always a kernel of truth to tabloid stories, something verifiable, which is what leads readers to believe even the most outrageous statements. For instance, when I read about your former SEAL stealing and selling arms in Afghanistan, I wondered if that was the kernel of truth.”
Hazel bolted to her feet. “I think we’re done here.”
All at once, she felt a tingling sensation that started in her ears and traveled outward. Her fingers and arms felt like they were floating, yet she was pretty sure she was on the floor, looking up at the ceiling, not the other way around.
She’d read up on infrasound the last few days, and Isabel had shared some of her experience with it, to help Hazel understand what Chase had gone through. Isabel had described deep, excruciating pain. But this…this was light. Airy. Surreal.
Like vertigo, but without the unpleasant aspects. The whirling and giddiness, without nausea.
A few articles she’d read said some infrasound frequencies were pleasant. They could even cause arousal. Was this infrasound on that end of the spectrum?
As soon as the thought flitted through her mind, it escaped, lost in a swirl. Her head spun as if she was on a merry-go-round. Dr. Parks’s face became a blur as Hazel laughed with the freedom of the ride.
38
Sean watched the door, expecting Hazel to emerge. But she didn’t. Over the radio, she made a giggling sound. The doctor said something he didn’t understand, and Hazel responded, “I love him.”
Okay. Had the doctor said something to make Hazel reconsider staying? What could she possibly say that would change Hazel’s mind?
The doctor’s voice was softer now. “Of course, I don’t believe it. But I needed to elicit a reaction from you. We need to probe the dark places if we’re going to get to the bottom of your issues.”
Sean wasn’t buying it, and he doubted Hazel was, but maybe she’d decided to stay to give the doctor more rope. The conversation was being recorded, after all. He’d keep listening. In the meantime, he texted Rav.
Sean: Dr. Parks knew the bones were in the annex. Hazel told her last week.
Rav: Don’t like the sound of that. She’s Isabel’s and Chase’s doctor too.
Sean: Exactly. Hazel is recording the session with a Raptor headset. I’m listening in. I want to know why Parks missed the signs Chase is still messed up.
Rav: I think the FBI is looking into her. She was assigned Chase and Isabel because she’d done analysis for CIA of infrasound testing by foreign intelligence agencies. I don’t know details.
Sean: Any chance she knew Beck?
Rav: If she did, she managed to hide it from the CIA. They’d never have let her near Isabel or Chase.
Sean: Maybe she knew Westover. If she was studying infrasound, she could have met him when he was working for DIA doing the same thing. When is the FBI going to get the search warrant for Small’s lake house?
Rav: Supposed to execute it today. No word yet.
Sean: What if Parks is the doctor who developed the implants? Did Parks know Isabel was set to survey the reservoir?
Rav: No. Iz hasn’t seen her since last spring. But Small would know. All property owners were notified of the drawdown and survey.
Sean: Hazel’s first appointment was before she was called to the field. Right? Hazel would have told her about her job, and that she was living with you. Was that before or after the note included the word redhead?
The circle spun as Rav typed a reply. It felt like an eternity as Sean waited.
Rav: Before. The appointment was before the first redhead note.
Sean: Parks would guess if Isabel found the bones, Hazel would be called in.
Rav: Yes.
Sean: Parks could want her here to pump her for information. To find out what the FBI knows.
Rav: Get Hazel out of there.
Sean: On it. Turning on cell broadcast for my headsets.
With the cellular link turned on, everyone with a Raptor headset—even operatives thousands of miles away—could join the conversation and hear Hazel’s session with Dr. Parks, as if it were a conference call.
Parks spoke in low murmurs, words that couldn’t really be made out, but Hazel’s voice remained clear. She was answering questions. Her answers were innocuous at first. Yes, no. I don’t know. Nothing that gave a hint at the questions.
Sean was carrying concealed and had a special permit, but if he charged into the doctor’s office brandishing a weapon, not only was Hazel likely to get hurt, but the doctor would have plenty of reason to claim self-defense if she shot Sean.
And with the article on Voigt Forum accusing him of selling weapons, people would be more than primed to believe it. He left his gun in its holster.
He’d glimpsed a short hallway with two doors on the left, one on the right, before the door had swung closed behind Hazel.
He paused by the door, listening to Hazel’s soft voice. “Twenty-six men. One woman.”
Sean knew what that answer meant. The number of skulls Hazel had examined. She was talking, which meant somehow Dr. Parks had put her in a trance.
He shoved the door open, glad it swung on silent hinges. He entered the hallway and studied the closed doors. Which one was Hazel behind?
Before he could try one, the first door opened, and a white guy charged him. Sean thought he might look familiar, but it was all a blur as they rolled in the hallway, the guy trying to punch him in the ribs and neck. Sean popped him in the jaw, and the man went slack.
As Sean dragged him into the room he’d jumped from, he got a good look at the man’s face. He’d been at the rally. One of the faces in the crowd that had stared at Sean with hate. He’d been in the news footage, which Sean had seen earlier in the week.
He relayed this information into the radio. Rav chimed in with message received.
Keith was listening too, as were Josh and another operative in the DC office only two miles away. The three former SEALs were mobilizing to provide backup.
A sound came from the hallway that turned Sean’s blood cold. Pump-action shotgun.
The door was pushed open with the barrel of the gun, and there was none other than Sheriff Taylor and one of his toadies.
“Well, boy. Looks like you’re in the wrong office.”
Sean put his hands on his head. “Guys, Sheriff Taylor is here. And he brought a friend.”
“You expect me to believe anyone can hear you on that stupid radio? I got men stationed all around the building. You’s here alone.”
“Tell him I just got a call from the FBI,” Rav said on the radio, “and they’re serving a warrant on his office right now. Another team is raiding Small’s vacation home.”
“My boss wants me to tell you that your office is being searched by the FBI right now,” Sean said.
The sheriff’s cell phone rang.
“That’s probably one of your deputies calling to share the good news. Go ahead. Take the call. I’ll wait.”
Taylor glared at him until the phone stopped ringing.
Then another phone rang. The deputy glanced at the phone on his belt. “Should I take it?”
“You really should,” Sean said. “It’s going to be the FBI. Calling about the bodies in the lake. The illegal immigrants your boss rounded up so Dr. Parks could use them as test subjects in her infrasound experiments.”
Taylor cursed and shoved the shotgun into the deputy’s hands, then yanked the phone from the guy’s belt. “Taylor,” he grunt
ed into the phone. Then he glared at Sean and said, “Did you read the warrant?” He cursed some more and said, “Put the asshole on the phone!”
But it appeared the FBI didn’t care to talk to Sheriff Taylor at the time, because no one came on the line. He threw the phone to the floor in disgust and yanked the shotgun back from the deputy.
Sean knew the man’s look. He’d seen it on enemy combatants when defeat was near. If he got his hands on the trigger, he’d blow Sean’s head off.
Sean lunged before the gun fully changed hands. He shoved the barrel up, ramming the deputy in the chin with it as he kneed the sheriff in the balls. The man released the gun, which Sean had by the barrel. He slammed the butt into Taylor’s head, dropping him to the ground. He kicked at the deputy’s chest. He flew backward, into the wall.
Taylor was unconscious, so Sean pinned the deputy first and handcuffed him with his own cuffs. Then he did the same for the sheriff, telling the others listening in what was happening as he did so.
“I’m going after Hazel now.”
They’d made so much noise, Dr. Parks had to be on the alert, and she had Hazel as a hostage.
The weird floaty sensation ended as abruptly as it started. In the hallway, Hazel could hear shouts and banging. It took her a moment to realize her hands were tied in front of her. Dr. Parks pressed the barrel of a gun into the soft flesh between mandible and hyoid bone.
Hazel’s brain filled with images of what a bullet fired through the skull from just that spot would do. It was a popular placement for suicides. The bullet would travel upward, shattering the sphenoid and parietal bones. Depending on the angle, it could go out the back or straight up, taking out the frontal bones. Destroying the forehead.
“I said get up!”
Apparently, the good doctor had been shouting orders while Hazel took a grim mental stroll through craniums past.
“You’re a crappy psychotherapist if you failed to realize the gun won’t induce calm, compliant behavior in a patient who suffers panic attacks thanks to documenting the damage bullets do to skulls.”