The Unforgivable Fix (25 page)

“Well, Dad went ballistic. Said someone had tipped off Patrick and the DEA was going to get to the bottom of it. My dad said there was a very short list of people who knew the plan and they were going to investigate each one.” Allie sounded like a bright student who just figured out a difficult assignment. “You and Dad were on that list, of course. Lydia, I remember you turned pale. Dad put his hand on yours. You squeezed it and said, ‘They'll find out everything.' You were scared. I went to bed that night wondering why. By the time I finished Robbie's book I had it. You're The Fixer. Dad cracked the case, like he does every one. But he decided not to turn you in.” Allie looked Lydia up and down. “I needed to be sure. So I came up with a little test. Remember when I asked you about that pub off the coast of Bali?”

Lydia stiffened. Of course she remembered.

“The Conch and Bull Feathers.” Allie shrugged. “You told me you must have heard about it on a travel show, but you came up with that name so reflexively. I knew from Robbie's book that The Fixer had been seen with one of her targets in that very bar.”

There was no point continuing the charade. “What do you plan to do with this information, Allie?”

“Nothing.” Allie looked stunned by the question. “And for goodness' sake, let's not let Daddy know. It can be our little secret. Like sisters keeping something from the parents. It would freak him out if he realized I knew he was committing a crime by not turning you in. He's big on that whole role-model thing.” Her voice softened. “You and my dad are good for one another. Maybe he sees you as the daughter he could save. And I'd love it if you can be that for him. He deserves that.”

“And you? What do you deserve?”

“I guess that goes back to my original question. Do you think people can truly change who they are?”

Lydia looked at the clock. It was nearly ten o'clock. “Go to bed, Allie.”

“Lydia, please.” Her eyes begged for an answer. “Can we really change?”

Lydia got up, took her glass to the sink, and rinsed it clean. She walked off to her room and closed the door behind her.

Lydia sat behind her desk, let her eyes drift around her office, and remembered how the leaded windows, hardwood floors, and high ceilings of the converted mansion had called out to her the first time she saw the space. The rooms had an aura of stability and strength, and as a new therapist, Lydia had believed her patients would feel safe enough there to trust in the treatment she had been trained to provide.

But it's not safe here anymore. I'm not safe anywhere. Allie knows who I am. Federal agents will arrest her soon. I'm her prime bargaining chip. Would it matter to her that bringing me down would land her father in jail as well?

It was still dark outside. Lydia had wanted to come in early and experience a few moments of quiet before her day started. She didn't know how many she had left.

I can't kill her. She'll soon be in the hands of the DEA. Justice will find her.
She cursed her thinking.
I have your answer, Allie. My first reaction when I realized there was no dissuading you from believing I was The Fixer was to kill you. So I'd have to say people like us really can't change.
She thought of her patients…her home on the cliff overlooking the sea…the wounded owl.
Oh, but I so wanted to believe I could.

The sound of the front door opening pulled her out of her reflections. She glanced at the clock. It was not quite seven thirty. She wasn't expecting her first patient until noon. She slid her side drawer open and waited in silence.

Footsteps approached. She laid her right hand over the gun. The hall light flicked on.

Zach Edwards took two steps into her office, looked up, and stutter-stepped back when he saw Lydia sitting at her desk.

“Dr. Corriger! You scared me. I didn't expect you here this early.”

Zach tossed his briefcase down on the sofa, shrugged off his woolen coat, and began to unwind several feet of knitted scarf from around his neck.

“I scheduled Eric Scheull this morning at eight. Good news. He finally got a job. He doesn't want to risk anything by taking time off to see me, so I made this early morning time available. I hope you don't mind. I checked and saw you were free this morning. Is it okay for me to use the office?”

I may not be able to keep myself safe, but I can still protect my patients.

“That's not going to work.”

Zach looked bewildered. “You have someone coming in?” He stood with his hands in the pockets of his secondhand corduroys. “I guess I could see Eric out in the waiting room. Of course I don't know how I'll record the session for you. Would it be okay to skip it?”

“I don't need any more of your recordings. I'll be here when Eric comes. I'll let him know you won't be seeing him today.”

Zach's eyes widened in a question. He moved to take a seat across from Lydia's desk.

“Don't bother. You'll be leaving.”

He pulled himself upright. “What's going on?” He looked around as though the answer was floating in the air. “Is something wrong?”

She recalled her promise to Paul Bauer.

“I received a call yesterday.” Lydia assembled the lie as she spoke. “A faculty member who supervised you down in Oregon. There seem to be significant discrepancies between what your résumé says you've done and what you actually have. I'm quite concerned.”

Zach's brow furrowed. “One of my supervisors? Which one? Dr. Corriger, I can assure you everything on my résumé is accurate. There must be some mistake.”

Lydia nodded. “Perhaps. But until I know for certain, I can't have you seeing patients. I'm sure you understand.”

Zach's voice trembled. “No. No, I don't understand. Who said what about me? I have a right to know. Maybe we can call and get this cleared up right now.”

The front door chimed again. Hurried footsteps approached. A female voice called out, “Zach? Sweetie, are you in there?”

A pudgy young woman with unruly hair the color of overcooked carrots scurried into the office. Her brown suede jacket with sheepskin lining was at least two sizes too small, which only served to accentuate her fleshy figure. When she caught sight of Lydia, she blinked long eyelashes, heavy with mascara, behind round wire-rimmed glasses.

“Oh. I thought Zach would be alone. Sorry. Are you a patient or what?” She held up a plastic grocery bag and turned to Zach. “You forgot your lunch, sweetie. You know how you get all irritable when your blood sugar drops.” She turned back toward Lydia with a broad, nervous smile. “Can't have that, can we?”

“Who are you?” Lydia asked.

The woman stepped forward and extended a purple-gloved hand. “I'm Patty Goines. Zach's girlfriend. Who are you?”

Lydia looked to Zach. “Care to do the honors?”

Zach awkwardly stumbled his way through introductions. When Patty realized she'd barged in on Zach's boss, she covered her mouth in embarrassment.

“I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt.” She smiled. Lydia assumed she was waiting for assurance that no harm had been done.

“I just wanted to bring him his lunch,” Patty rushed on. “I hope that's okay. We only have the one car. At least for now, that is. He'd have no way of driving home to pick it up.” When Lydia still didn't respond, she turned to her boyfriend. “So I guess I'll see you at home, huh? I'm off to work.”

“Actually, Patty, I'm glad you're here,” Lydia said. “Zach's not going to be able to work today. He may be off for a while. We have some details to iron out and it's best Zach stay away from this clinic while we do.”

“What's going on?” Patty asked Zach. “Is everything still okay?”

“Don't worry about a thing, Patty.” Zach reached for his coat. He gave a nod toward Lydia. “I'm sure this mistake will be cleared up soon. You'll call me when it is?”

Lydia stared at him. “You'll be hearing from me, Zach. In the meantime, I'll let your patients know they won't be seeing you.”

“Will someone tell me what's happening?” Patty sounded frantic. “It's all still good, right?”

Zach hurried his girlfriend out of the office. Lydia waited until she heard the front door close before going to the window. She watched Zach stuff Patty in the front seat. Lydia could see her mouth moving with what she assumed were dozens of questions as Zach scooted around the rusted Volvo and took his place in the driver's seat. When they'd driven out of sight, Lydia returned to her desk. She pulled a business card from her top desk drawer and dialed.

“Detective Bauer speaking.” Paul Bauer was as much of an early bird as she was.

“This is Lydia Corriger, Detective.”

She heard the smile in his voice. “My morning just got brighter. And folks who call me before eight
A.M.
call me Paul.”

“I just had an interaction with Zach Edwards. He wasn't expecting me here. I sent him packing.”

Bauer's pleasantness disintegrated. “You didn't tell him we're on to him, did you? I need time to figure out whose voice is on those tapes he was dummying up for you.”

“No need. I just met his girlfriend.” Lydia smiled for the first time since her conversation with Allie. “I may have never seen her before, but I've sure heard her voice.”

Paul Bauer walked into Lydia's office twenty minutes later. He handed her a cup of coffee.

“Latte with honey,” he said. “Hope I got that right.”

Lydia took a sip. “Perfect. Thank you.” She recognized the specific roast. He'd gone to Oliver's shop. Would Oliver have recognized him as the man she sat with yesterday? What would he think of Bauer picking up a cup of her favorite so early in the morning?

“What have you got?” Bauer slipped out of his camel-hair coat. He tossed it on the sofa and sat with the casual moves of a man who was comfortable in her presence.

“Her name is Patty Goines. She's Zach's girlfriend. I remember Zach told me she'd been a theater arts major. I can't remember where he said she was working now. A day-care center, I think. He says she volunteers painting sets with local theater groups. He joked about that being as close as she got these days to acting.”

Bauer seemed cautious as he considered the news. “You're sure it was her?”

“I've listened to the tapes of who I thought was Brianna Trow at least a dozen times. There's a nasal quality to Patty's voice that's hard to forget.”

Bauer nodded. “I noticed that on the recordings, too. It's very different from the real Brianna's slow Southern drawl. I wonder why he didn't have Patty fake an Alabama accent.”

“Zach probably assumed I'd never hear the real Brianna. The scenario he had his girlfriend play out was classic. He worked a straight behavioral intervention and Patty, posing as the patient, responded exactly as I'd expect her to. To tell you the truth, before Brianna's father came to see me, I hardly gave those tapes a serious listen. I simply assumed all was going well.”

“I don't suppose Patty gave you any other leads?”

Lydia shook her head. “I didn't want to mention the tapes to either of them before I had a chance to speak with you. It could be Patty has no clue as to what Zach's up to. I could see a situation where he might ask Patty to role-play a therapy session with him. He could have told her he wanted to practice his intervention before going face-to-face with a real patient.”

“And being a frustrated actress, she'd be all too willing to help.”

“She strikes me as the caregiver type.” She paused as a replay of the morning scrolled through her consciousness. “Although she did say something that, on reflection, seems a little odd.”

Bauer leaned forward. “What's that?”

Lydia did a mental walk-through of her encounter with Patty one more time before answering. “She used the word
still
. A couple of times, actually. It would have been pretty obvious to her I was upset with Zach, especially when I asked her to drive him home and told Zach I'd contact his patients to inform them he wouldn't be seeing them. She asked Zach if everything was
still
okay. She wanted to know if things were
still
good.”

“She knows what he's up to. And whatever it is, he's not finished yet.” Bauer raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. Edwards scooted his girlfriend out of here fast after those comments.”

Lydia was impressed with the detective's ability to predict a situation based on limited data. “He did. He probably didn't want her confusion to lead to any more disclosures. So, what's our next move?”

Paul Bauer pulled himself up and towered over Lydia. He reached for his coat. “You keep him away from patients. Especially Brianna. Don't let him know we're on to whatever the hell it is he's up to.”

Lydia stood. “Brianna's going to need a lot of rehabilitative therapy. If Zach has successfully convinced her that her father sexually abused her, it's going to be a tough job to turn that around. She's likely to have trust issues the rest of her life.”

Bauer buttoned his coat and slipped his hands into leather gloves. “I'll leave that stuff to you, Doc. But for now, no word to Edwards that we're on to him. I'll do some background work, see what I can find.”

“You plan to keep me posted?”

Bauer leveled a stare and Lydia again saw the playful specks of gold in his eyes. “I have several plans for you, Lydia.”

Lydia snapped the computer file closed when she heard the door to her outer office open. She'd spent the morning trying to get her affairs in order, her thoughts roiling. If Allie planned to inform the authorities The Fixer wasn't dead, as Robbie's book had speculated, but was living a quiet life as a clinical psychologist in Olympia, Washington, she wanted to make sure whatever assets she had went where they'd do the most good. She'd finished drafting the documents authorizing her attorney to deed her home and property to a local wildlife organization, and was working on making sense of the several nested bank accounts she held in various aliases in four different countries. There was more money than she'd anticipated. Her investments had done well during the two years since her retirement from the assassination business. She'd run a rough total, and it looked like she had just over four million dollars to dispose of. She tried to estimate when Allie might be arrested. Any distribution of funds would have to be done anonymously before Mort's daughter offered her up. Once Lydia had things settled, she could focus on what would come next.

One last climb up the side of the cliff.
A warm blanket of calm determination wrapped around her as she went about her tasks.
Not much longer. Then I can rest.

She glanced at the clock: 11:26. Her patient wasn't due until noon, but she understood the urgency of people in pain.

“Liddy?” Mort's familiar voice called out. “You back there?” His voice grew closer as Lydia switched off her computer and slid her calculator and notepad into a drawer. “There you are.”

Mort walked into her office, his face lined with fatigue and worry. Lydia's effort to greet him with a smile ended when Allie scooted past her father and burst into her office. She was wearing Lydia's black cashmere sweater and brown leather jacket.

“So this is where you do all the headshrinking?” Allie spun a slow circle as she took in the books and art decorating the office. “Nice. I can see you here. It's not unlike the way you decorate your house. Classy. Understated.” Her smile widened when she turned it to Lydia. “I haven't seen that lately. Island decor is typically a little over the top.”

Lydia held her gaze, trying to ascertain what she'd shared with her father, but Allie's face betrayed nothing but a disposition far sunnier than the chilly November day warranted.

“Dad's springing for lunch,” Allie said. “I drove him crazy with my incessant pleading to get out of the house. Grab your coat, tell us the most expensive restaurant in this town, and let's go spend some of his expense money.”

Lydia reflected on the various characters and guises she'd used during her time as The Fixer. From sex kitten to homeless bag lady, she'd assumed any manner of poses to gain access to her targets. She'd been good enough to slip past the tightest security systems and the most paranoid of victims. But The Fixer had nothing on Allie Grant. Mort's daughter could shift into whatever act or mood fit the situation. Last night she'd been the weary sophisticate, calmly explaining how she'd come to the conclusion Lydia was The Fixer. Today she'd resumed her role as the perky live-wire daughter of a doting father whose innocent curiosity and drive toward adventure sometimes got her in hot water.

Lydia threw Mort a questioning glance. Was he there to arrest her or warn her?

“Allie, I need to speak with Lydia alone.” Mort's set jaw and stern tone gave no clue as to what would come next. “There's a bathroom down the hall from the waiting room. Go freshen up.”

Allie's eyes narrowed as her lips pushed out into a pout Lydia was certain was well rehearsed. “You promised me lunch, Daddy. In a nice place.”

“Go to the bathroom, Allie.” Mort didn't sound like he wanted to play. “Two minutes. That's all I ask.”

Allie turned and left the office without another word of protest. When she was gone, Mort stepped toward Lydia's desk and knelt beside her. She swallowed the tight ball of fear threatening to choke her. “What's going on?”

“Patrick Duncan is dead.” Mort's voice was barely above a whisper. “He was found in a warehouse on the Seattle waterfront. Coroner puts his time of death sometime early afternoon two days ago.” His eyes locked on to Lydia's. “He'd been tortured. His hands were cut off.”

“The Russian.” Lydia kept her voice as low as Mort's. “And since we're whispering, I assume Allie doesn't know.”

Mort shook his head. “If it is Tokarev who killed Duncan, he's close. I don't want to terrify her any more than she is.”

Of all the things Allie was, terrified wasn't one of them. Lydia wondered if that was because Allie knew she had nothing to fear from the authorities.
I'm her get-out-of-jail-free card.
Lydia focused on the raindrops clinging to Mort's hair and jacket.
Will she trade you, too?

“What do you want from me?”

Mort held her gaze. “I have to get up to Seattle. Someone tipped off the Russian. Pulled Patrick Duncan away and sent him to be slaughtered. No more than five people knew where we planned to take him down. One of them is dirty. I need you to stay with Allie while I get up to Micki and Jimmy and figure out who it is.” He glanced toward the door. “Let's take her to lunch. Settle her down a bit. Then I'll drop the two of you back off at your place and head north.”

Lydia's spine pulsed out a steady beat of warning. She wanted to push Mort away…tell him his daughter could rot in hell for all she cared.
Run, Mort, run. Far away from this trap knowing me has built for you. Run away from your daughter and me. We can do nothing but destroy you.

But she needed time to complete her tasks before climbing that cliff one last time. Allie hadn't told Mort what she knew about Lydia. Time alone with her might allow Lydia the chance to learn if she'd told anyone else.

“I have patients scheduled. I'll need to call and cancel them.” Lydia shook her head. “Take your daughter to lunch. I'll meet you back at the house. I'll be there by one.”