The Unforgivable Fix (20 page)

It had been an endless night. Lydia made an attempt at sleep, but it was worthless. Patrick Duncan was still on the loose, and he knew Allie had set him up to be arrested. Every small sound warned Lydia that Duncan, or any number of his crew, might be out there. After a fruitless hour spent tossing in bed, she gave up, went into her kitchen, and found Mort sitting at the table staring out into the dark night. She started a pot of coffee, got out a deck of cards, and dealt the first hand of what would be a five-hour gin rummy marathon between two armed sentries.

When the sky lightened behind low clouds, Lydia wasn't surprised to find she wasn't tired. The long night of caffeine and adrenaline left her energized. She'd experienced the phenomenon before. The Fixer had spent many sleepless nights surveying her target, needing to be alert the next morning. She left Mort to stand guard while she showered, and offered the same for him when she was finished. At eight o'clock, they were both dressed and ready to meet the day; the closed door to Allie's room indicated she'd had no trouble putting the previous day behind her.

“Go to work, Liddy.” Mort's voice betrayed no sign of fatigue. “When she's upset, she sleeps. She might be in there till noon. No sense both of us being bored.”

Lydia wasn't eager to leave him alone. “What about Duncan?”

“He won't come here. I wasn't followed last night. As far as he knows, the cops have Allie in protective custody. If he knew this place, he would have made his move last night.”

She wasn't so sure. Two men, as yet unnamed and undiscovered, had found the place.

“Go on,” Mort urged her. “Go to work. Stamp out some mental illness or whatever the hell it is you do.”

She had left him reluctantly, but now, three hours into her morning, she was glad she had. There was nothing like a bustling psychology practice to refocus a person's mind away from her own craziness. Phone calls from patients kept her busy for more than an hour. Back-to-back sessions with Tim Jenkins and Krystal Piekarski trained her mind on their issues and off hers.

Lydia called Mort at lunchtime. As he'd predicted, Allie's door was still closed.

“But I'm starting to hear movement.” He sounded tired. “She should be out here asking about breakfast any minute now.”

Lydia wondered what it would take for Mort to see his daughter for who she truly was. Allie could be charming and witty. She could also be self-centered and heartless, utterly unconcerned about how her own actions hurt others. But that was for Mort to discover on his own.

“Want me to come home?” she suggested. “I could keep Allie entertained while you catch some sleep.”

Mort assured her he'd had a morning nap and felt fine. Lydia knew he was lying. His mind would be flooded with calculations of what steps he could take next to keep his daughter safe. First from Patrick Duncan and Vadim Tokarev, and then from the feds. Lydia promised to bring supper home.

Will Sorens was right on time for his one o'clock appointment. His situation had taken its toll. His weight loss was visible, and given the lean runner's body he had to begin with, he now looked like someone in the midst of a ferocious chronic illness. Dark bags of flesh pulled at his lower eyes. His collar hung loosely around a neck draped in sagging skin. Even the hand he offered Lydia when he entered the office appeared bony and weak. He collapsed more than sat on her sofa.

“She's with her mother this week.” Will wasted no time getting down to what bothered him. “I'm calling her and texting her every chance I get. I can tell she's trying to be brave. I want her out of there.”

“Is Emma back at school?”

Will nodded. “I've asked two of her teachers…I know them…Rose Hoffman is her biology teacher. We volunteer together down at the Humane Society. And Quinn Brickle is a guy I've golfed with a couple of times. I asked them both if they'd keep an eye on her. Hold her at school as long as possible with extra projects and stuff. Her mother doesn't like it, but at this point I say tough shit. I don't want her in that house of horrors one second longer than she has to be.” He hung his head. “I don't know how much longer this can go on. Emma needs to be with me.”

“Do you hear anything about the progress of the investigation?”

Will huffed out a bitter laugh. “What do you think? What's your best guess about the progress in the investigation of the man who last year donated bulletproof vests for all the city's police dogs?” He looked at her with utter helplessness. “Or how about this? I just found out day before yesterday. Kenton Walder's company funds a scholarship for kids of Olympia police. Each year, five grand is made available to one kid who has a parent on the force. Offers it up at a big banquet every May.” He slammed a fist against his leg. “Motherfucker fuck. You tell me how eager the cops are to step up and bite that hand.”

Lydia knew her words would be as helpful as a cup of water on a drought-baked cornfield. “You're doing all you can to keep Emma safe, Will. Stay on that. You need to keep yourself strong and steady. Let's not project any conclusion about what the police may or may not be doing.” She thought about Detective Paul Bauer, and Mort's assurance that he was one of the good guys. “You're doing all you can.”

Will looked up and Lydia saw the primal force of the ages—
protect your young—
pulse out of determined eyes. “Wanna know all I can do, Doc? I'll tell you. I'm going to kill him.”

“Will, let's talk about—”

He interrupted her with a vengeance she'd not seen from him before. “I'm going to kill him, Dr. Corriger. I'm not going to risk Kenton Walder hurting my girl again.”

Lydia had settled Will Sorens down by the time their appointment was over. She'd gotten him to back off his threat to Kenton Walder, and secured his promise to call her if any urge to harm him or himself started to rise beyond his control. Still, there was no way to guarantee or predict human behavior. She was considering whether or not she had a duty to warn Walder when the buzzer in her outer office indicated someone had arrived. She wasn't expecting her next patient for two hours. An image of red laser sights flashing across her darkened yard came to her. She opened the side drawer of her desk and placed her hand on the Beretta in the back.

“Who's there?” she called out.

“It's me, Lydia.” She recognized the sonorous voice of Paul Bauer and pulled her hand off the gun. “You don't have a receptionist. How's this work? Do I sit out here and yell, or do you come out to get me?”

She closed her drawer and shoved away a foreign impulse to check her hair and makeup. “I'm in my office. Come on back.”

Despite this being their third encounter, Lydia was still taken aback when Paul Bauer came through her door. There was no doubt the detective made an impression. She was certain he used that to full advantage in his line of work.

“I'm all for economy, but don't you think things would work better if you had someone out there?” He stood in front of her desk and Lydia felt very small. “What if I was a burglar…or worse, a salesman? You need a front line, Lydia. Someone to block folks trying to get at you.”

“Is that what you're doing, Detective? Trying to get at me?”

His extraordinary green eyes betrayed a hint of playfulness as he took two seconds before answering. “Nothing stops me from getting what I want, Lydia.”

An attractive discomfort surged through her. She looked away and invited him to sit. “You're lucky. I don't have a patient this hour. Maybe in the future you could call or set up an appointment if you need to see me.”

He settled into the leather chair in her therapy area and crossed his long, khaki-trousered legs at the ankles. He smiled. “You need to know more police, Lydia. If you did, you'd know we're not the type to wait.”

I've spent the better part of my life avoiding the police. Now I've got Mort in my house and you in my office.

“What brings you by today, Detective?”

“I sure wish you'd call me Paul.” He reached inside the pocket of his navy blazer. “But suit yourself. What I have here are a couple of judge's orders. One commands you to turn over to me everything you have as relates to the Emma Sorens case.” He handed her one set of folded documents. “And the other says I get the same for Brianna Trow.” He gave her another sheaf of papers. “You can see the order commands both you and Zach Edwards. He here?”

Lydia shook her head as she shuffled through the blue-backed documents. “I don't expect him for an hour. But he keeps his files here. I should be able to get what you need.”

Bauer pointed his finger to the papers she held. “Everything, Lydia. Case notes, personal in-session writings, tests, assessments, tapes…anything and everything you've got in both of these cases.”

“What are you looking for?” She needed to cooperate, but also felt the need to protect the privacy of her patients. “I understand you're investigating Emma's allegations against Kenton Walder, but what are you looking into with Brianna?”

Bauer smiled. “See? Just another reason why you need to get friendlier with cops. If you were, you'd know I only have to explain what I'm investigating to the judge. I have. And she's issued these orders.”

“I need to make copies of the charts. That may take some time.”

Bauer clasped his hands behind his head. “You've already said you don't have a patient this hour. I'll wait.” His smile took on that playful aspect again. “See? This is another time when it would be helpful to have someone out in that front office. If you'd like, I can help you make the copies myself.”

Lydia pushed herself away from her desk. “That won't be necessary, Detective.” She pointed to the outer office. “But if you're going to hang around while I make the copies, please make yourself comfortable somewhere other than my office.”

Thirty minutes later, Lydia handed Paul Bauer two padded envelopes containing everything needed to fully comply with the judge's orders. She marked one envelope
Sorens
and the other
Trow.

“This all of it?” he asked.

“Every note, report, tape, and assessment. Now if you don't mind, I've got a practice to run.” Lydia pointed to the door.

Bauer looked at his watch. “Actually, Lydia, I think I'll hang here a few minutes longer. You said you were expecting Dr. Edwards. I think it's time I met him.”

As if on cue, the front door to her office suite opened and Zach entered in all his rumpled glory. He nodded to them both, ran a hand through his damp, thinning hair, and tucked his umbrella under his arm.

“Zach, there's someone here to meet you.” Lydia waved him closer. “Dr. Zach Edwards, this is Detective Paul Bauer of the Olympia Police Department. He's investigating the Kenton Walder case. He's here today to collect all the records we have.”

Zach looked confused as he shook hands with the detective. “I sent my report to the judge nearly two weeks ago. Didn't you get it?”

“I did.” Bauer was in his “I'm just here to help” mode. “But you know how lawyers love paper. I gotta make sure they understand I've looked under every stone.”

In that instant, Lydia understood that Bauer was investigating Zach. He'd told her about the coincidence between the Walder and Trow cases, but she'd written it off to his apparent ignorance of how prevalent sexual-abuse issues might be in a psychologist's office. Of course both men were denying the charges. She recalled Will Sorens's words about how the police might be slow to bring a case against a man who treated their department so well. She felt a surge of protectiveness. Lydia wasn't about to have Zach used as a tool to protect Kenton Walder.

“Detective Bauer has everything he needs.” Lydia spoke directly to Zach. “I'm sure we've been as cooperative as we can be at this point.”

Zach pointed over his shoulder. “I keep my notebook in the file cabinet. Dr. Corriger cleared out a drawer for me so I wouldn't have to schlep my stuff around. Want me to see if there's anything there?”

Before Lydia could divert him, Bauer stepped in.

“That would be great, Zach. Why don't you show me your drawer?” The two of them walked into Lydia's office with Lydia trailing behind.

Zach pulled out his spiral notebook. “These are the notes I take in session.”

“I already copied those, Zach.” Lydia hoped he'd pick up the urgency in her voice. She wanted Bauer out of her office before Zach said anything that the detective could use to trip him up. “The detective has what he needs.”

“Oh!” Zach walked over to one of the wall-mounted recording buttons. “Did Dr. Corriger tell you about her system? It's so cool. Beyond state of the art. You just press this button…and everything that gets said is digitally recorded. She can listen to every word I say with a patient. Isn't that the best supervisory tool ever?”

Bauer nodded and smiled in Lydia's direction. “It certainly is.”

Zach's face grew apologetic. “I'm a bit of a geek, I suppose. My girlfriend always says I relate more to machines than her. Anyway, did you get the recording of my evaluation with Emma?”

“I did. Thank you both for being so cooperative.” Bauer patted the envelopes. “I have what I need for Emma Sorens and I think I have everything for Brianna Trow as well.”

The familiar look of confusion came back to Zach. “Brianna? What's she got to do with Kenton Walder? It was her father who abused her.” He turned to Lydia. “What was his name? The guy who came to see you? Henry, was it?”

Lydia shot him a look that even a blind person could see meant
Shut up
. Zach was a talented new psychologist, but still a rookie. Even the casual remarks he was making were in violation of patient confidentiality. “Detective Bauer has what he needs, Zach. Let's not hold him up any longer.”