Cut & Run (11 page)

Rachel finished up her cold slice of pepperoni and mushroom while Michelle called her husband.

“I’m all yours,” Michelle said, after she hung up the phone.

“Great. Can I ask you a favor?”

“Shoot.”

“Would you be willing to talk to Matt O’Malley tomorrow? Seeing as you’re willing to help, I’m hoping you can assist him with recovering his memory.”

“Of course. What exactly do you want me to do?” Michelle asked.

“Just talk to him. Maybe you can give him some exercises to help with his memory.” Rachel threw the entire pizza box and empty beer can away. “I would also like your professional opinion about him.”

“You think Matt is lying about the amnesia?”

Rachel shrugged. “At this point, I really don’t know. We don’t have much to go on.”

Michelle picked up her purse and her shopping bag. “Okay. I can meet you back here at the hotel around two o’clock?”

“Perfect. I’ll ask Matt if that will work for him.” Rachel gave Michelle a hug. “And thanks for tonight.”

“Not a problem. It was…an experience.”

As Rachel was getting ready for bed, her cell phone rang.

“Hey, Rachel, this is Matt O’Malley. Sorry for the late-night call. Do you have a sec?”

“Sure. I was going to call you in the morning. What’s up?”

“I met with the FBI earlier today.”

“Really? How’d that go?”

“That’s what I’d like to talk to you about. Can we meet tomorrow?”

“Remember the psychologist friend I talked to you about the other day? She said tomorrow would work if you’re willing to see her. We can talk afterward?”

“Give me the time and place. I’ll be there.”

W
hen Matt showed up at Rachel Scott’s hotel room the next day, he was relieved to find that the woman psychologist seemed approachable. Not like she wanted to trap him in a lie. After his meeting with the FBI agents, he’d felt like they were looking hard at him for Erin’s apparent murder and his own kids’ disappearance. Now, with the media whirlwind surrounding the sensational case of his missing family, Matt was feeling the pressure all the way around. Even television personality Nancy Grace was calling him for an interview, and that was a headache he wanted to avoid. Everyone knew Nancy had a penchant for tearing into any husband of a missing wife or child.

“Would you like me to give you guys some privacy?” Rachel asked.

“No, I’m fine with you staying,” Matt said.

Michelle agreed. “Well, let’s get started.”

They all sat around the small table near the hotel window.

Michelle’s first round of questions related to his health and his experience with the doctors in Baton Rouge.

“So all your blood tests and physical examination came out normal?”

Matt nodded. “Just a bump on the head and a possible concussion.”

“Okay. Let’s get to what your last memory was. What do you remember?”

“A couple months prior to the accident I took the day off to get a haircut and run some personal errands.”

“Anything particular that happened that stands out in your mind?” Michelle asked.

“It was a nice day, so after a visit to my tax attorney, I walked to a nearby coffee shop for a bite to eat. That’s about it.” Matt sighed. “I’ve been over this a million times. I feel like something significant happened that day, but I just can’t quite grasp it.”

“That’s fine,” said Michelle. “I want you to relax and take your time. Close your eyes and let the memory flow naturally. This time, mentally use all your senses. I want you to hear the click of the scissors while the barber cuts your hair. Feel the warmth of the sun on the top of your head as you walk down the street. Smell the coffee brewing in the café.”

Matt took a seat next to the window and closed his eyes, just like Michelle suggested. Making himself comfortable, he let his tense muscles relax. He caught a thread of memory and followed it, not talking aloud, but pretending he was recounting that day’s events to someone listening.

That morning, I started the day off with a hair appointment at a local barber. Erin had been on me for weeks about getting my hair cut because it was getting close to my shoulder. My hair is naturally curly, and Erin kidded me that I was looking like a surfer dude with the long hair. After a thirty-minute appointment, I left and met my tax attorney about an issue on my income taxes. That problem was resolved, and I left the attorney’s office earlier than anticipated, although five thousand dollars poorer.

The tax attorney was located downtown near the French Quarter. I had an hour to kill before my next appointment, so I went to one of my favorite coffee joints to get a pick-me-up and a quick bite to eat. It was a beautiful day to walk, the air was crisp and not too hot, and the sky was a brilliant blue, with not a cloud in sight. I proceeded down Royal Street looking for the Flora Gallery and Coffee Shop.

Flora was unlike any other coffee place in town. It was what Erin would call hippie-fied. The inside was filled with weathered wood and stained glass. Local art filled the walls, including a couple of pieces from my wife. Erin had two watercolors on display. My favorite was a scene from our family vacation spot in Grayton Beach, Florida: it showed two small children playing on the beach with a weathered 1950s cottage in the background. The other piece featured a centuries-old graveyard in the heart of New Orleans.

I loved coming to eat here, and my mouth was watering thinking about the Ethiopian coffee I was going to order along with a cheese omelet and home fries.

Abruptly, he reached the end of the memory. Matt opened his eyes for a moment, taking in Michelle and the surrounding hotel room. This is where his memory of the fateful day usually ended. But this time, Matt was determined to push through. He closed his eyes again, took a deep breath, and did what Michelle had suggested. Matt imagined the feel of the sun beating down on his face, the smell of coffee brewing, and seeing…seeing what? A flicker of an image…just like watching a home movie on an old reel…distorted at first and then all of a sudden becoming clear and in focus.

Just as I was about to cross the street, I saw Erin sitting outside Flora at one of the patio tables. Something made me hesitate. I pulled back from the crowd crossing the street and watched from under the overhang of an awning outside a furniture store. Erin wasn’t alone. Another man joined her at the table, handing her a Styrofoam cup. No doubt the cup was filled with her favorite, chamomile tea. She laughed at something he said. I didn’t recognize the man, but
something in her mannerisms made me think that she knew him well. Erin wasn’t a stranger to Flora. The café showcased her art, she knew the owner, and she hung out there often. But thinking about what she’d told me earlier that morning made me hesitate at the crosswalk. She’d said she had an appointment at the school with the PTA president about some volunteer work and then was going to an art supply store in Metairie to pick up supplies that were specially ordered for her. So what was she doing at Flora with another man who I didn’t know? I needed to think about what to do. Pretty soon she could look up and see me cowering in the shade of the furniture store. I didn’t want to look like a jealous husband who was watching every move she made. I trusted Erin. I struggled with the decision: Should I just walk up to her and say hello? Who’s your friend? Put it on her to explain? Or I could just walk away. Go to another place to drink coffee and ponder this situation. Maybe I could bring it up later that night and see what she might say about her day. Just as I decided to go with the latter option, the man reached over and kissed my wife on the lips in a way that showed they were far more than friends.

Matt’s eyes sprang open with a jolt as he realized the significance of what he’d just remembered. But he didn’t feel ready to share it. As he turned back to Michelle’s expectant face, he put on a confused expression. He’d play the helpless victim.

“I guess it didn’t work,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “From what I can remember, it was just another normal day.”

If Michelle didn’t believe him, she didn’t show it. She just nodded and wrote something on her little notepad.

Matt felt a sudden longing to confide in Michelle and Rachel. To tell them he’d just remembered seeing another man kiss his wife. That Erin had looked happy and relaxed while drinking tea next to a man whose face he didn’t recognize. That now he had full recall of that horrible day when he’d discovered her affair.

Matt felt rooted to the floor as more memories of that day came flooding back. He couldn’t stop them. He remembered how he’d wished he’d confronted her right afterward. But he hadn’t been able to. While lying in bed with Erin that night, he’d asked how her day was. She’d shrugged and mentioned that her meeting went well. Of course, she hadn’t mentioned her little stop by Flora or the man she met for tea. Now he had to wonder: Was the man related to her disappearance? Or, worse, her murder? Could he trust Rachel to help him find out?

“Matt? Are you okay?” Michelle asked. Apparently, she had been talking and he hadn’t heard a word of what she had said.

Matt shook his head, trying to clear his mind. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, I’ve got a big headache coming on.”

“It’s okay. We’ll wrap this up quickly,” Michelle said, then asked him a few more questions about his relationship with his wife and kids.

Matt noticed that Rachel looked a little disappointed that Michelle hadn’t helped him make a breakthrough. If only she knew. Before Michelle left, she gave Matt a list of exercises to help him with his brain function. Puzzles, word associations, and games to play. Michelle also encouraged him to follow up with his neurologist and to keep up with his physical therapy. Matt thanked her for her time and felt relief when she finally left.

“I’m still holding out hope that you’ll remember soon,” Rachel said, when Michelle closed the door.

“Me too,” said Matt. “Look, I know you are skeptical about all this, but I want you to know that I’m trying as hard as I can. I want to find my kids just as much as anyone else does.”

“I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. I’m not questioning your amnesia. I just want to do whatever I can to help.”

Matt wondered if she would still feel that way if she knew that he was holding out on her. He just needed a bit of time to think it through before revealing the truth. If he could just remember who the person was that hit him over the head. He blanked on that part
each time. When he got home later, he was going to try the tactic Michelle had taught him one more time. Maybe it would work again.

“What happened with the FBI yesterday? You said you wanted to talk to me about it,” Rachel said. Matt watched as she crossed one long leg over the other and stared at him with her inquisitive green eyes.

“Agent Krapek wanted to go over all the business we’ve done in the last few months. I guess they are trying to connect this thing with a vengeful client.”

“No luck then?”

“A man’s fingerprints were found in my Durango. It belonged to a former client.” Matt scrubbed his face with his hands, feeling two days of stubble.

“Do you remember this client?”

“We bonded him over ten years ago. I don’t remember many clients unless they are repeat offenders.”

“So there is no logical reason why this guy would have his prints on your truck?”

“Right.”

Rachel sighed. “What does Krapek think?”

“I think
she
thinks that I conspired with this guy to have my wife killed. Which is completely ridiculous.”

“Could you have had any interaction with this guy within the last three months?”

“Don’t think so.”

“What else has Krapek said?”

“She doesn’t understand how I ended up in Baton Rouge while Erin was found over three hours away in Houma. How did I survive while Erin is dead? And where are the kids?”

Rachel blew out a breath of air. “It all does sound like something out of a mystery novel.”

Matt looked her directly in the eyes. “Do you think I killed my wife?”

“No, I don’t,” she said without hesitation.

“Thank you.” Matt needed someone on his side. He desperately needed someone to believe in him, which made it all the more difficult to keep the memory of Erin’s affair from Rachel. If he told Rachel about the affair, would she still help him? He had an idea he wanted to try first.

Rachel got off the couch and walked Matt to the door. “Don’t give up. We’ll keep digging.”

After he left Rachel’s hotel, Matt scrolled through the contact list on his cell phone. He found the number he needed and pressed send. After a few rings, the person picked up.

“I need your help.”

A
fter calling Michelle and thanking her for her time and help with the O’Malley case, Rachel packed her overnight bag. She told Red about Matt’s meeting with the FBI and the fingerprints found on the truck. They both agreed it would be a good idea to head over to Houma for the day to take a look around the site where Erin’s arm was found. After clearing it with Agent Krapek, Rachel assembled her core team. Rankin Smartz was her lead guy on search-and-rescue missions. He always brought along his black Lab, Max, who was a trained search-and-rescue dog. Max was invaluable to helping them find clues. Peter Moore was her equipment specialist. He had all kinds of gadgets and gizmos, as Rachel called them, that were used during searches. His handheld thermal imager was used the most during their missions. It helped the rescuers search large areas in a short amount of time.

“Time to go, Red,” said Rachel. She’d arranged for Rankin and Peter to drive separately to Houma and meet them at the site. Rachel hopped behind the wheel and headed out to their destination.

“It should take us about an hour and a half to get there,” Red said, checking the GPS system.

Rachel was just settling into the drive when her company cell phone rang.

“Rachel. Long time no hear. Still looking for Mallory?”

Rachel almost dropped the phone at the mention of Mallory’s name. She pulled over to the side of the road, her hands shaking. Red noticed her distress and motioned for her to put the phone on speaker.