Chapter Ten
CHAPTER TEN
Gage
Z ane’s words echo through my skull.
She trusts that woman .
That was one thing I never understood, one thing Zarah never bothered to explain to me, either. Why she trusts Jerricka Solis so much. Is it because of the time she spent with her? A year and a half is a long time to see anyone twice a week without trusting them. Is it because in some way, Jerricka did help with Zarah’s recovery? Or maybe the drugs Zarah’s been taking all these years have dulled how she perceives people, which does not bode well for our relationship and how she’ll see me once she’s weaned off all her medication.
“Jerricka won’t hurt her,” Zane says, focusing on the road.
We’re on our way to the office. Pop and I stored Dr. Mallory’s watch in our safe, and we need it to confront him. He was there the night someone killed Ingrid Flannigan, maybe even did the deed himself. We’ll have leverage if we show him we have evidence of his involvement, and he better have a rock-solid alibi if he wasn’t there and someone wanted us to think he was.
“Are you saying that for my benefit or for yours?” I ask, trying not to punch the dashboard out of sheer fear and frustration.
“Mine.”
“Good, because I know better than that. I’ve spoken to that witch, and she’s a manipulative bitch. She tried brainwashing Zarah into thinking I would leave her if we didn’t have sex. I have no fucking clue why she would do that, but I told Zarah that wasn’t true and I’m lucky she loves me and believed it. I’ve done nothing but try to give her what she needs when she needs it.”
I fucking hate talking to Zane about my sex life, but Jesus Christ, every time I turn around, someone’s fucking someone they shouldn’t be and it’s causing a whole mess of problems. Women can’t keep their knees together and men can’t keep their peckers in their pants. Fuckin’ eh.
“My sister never had a positive sexual experience until she met you. I’m sure she talked to Jerricka about how that made her feel. Fuck, sex was probably ninety-nine point nine percent of their conversations. Even I warned her before she invited you out to the house that if she wasn’t ready to go down that path to be careful and not get too close to you too fast. We all want it, Davenport, don’t pretend you’re any different.”
“I don’t need it at the expense of her mental health.”
“Yeah, but at some point—and how long would that take, three years, five years?—you’d decide if she’s not mentally healthy enough to be intimate, maybe she’s not mentally healthy enough to be in a relationship at all, and you wouldn’t be wrong. All I know is Zarah loves you, and she’s afraid you’ll get tired of dealing with her.”
“Yeah, well, she doesn’t understand that I feel the same way. I’m not exactly the prize at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box. We’re all insecure slobs when we fall in love.”
“You’re not kidding.”
“I want to think Jerricka helped her, if only for Zarah’s sake, but I also think she made Zarah believe untrue things about me, sex, and relationships in general. While I was trying to be what she needed, Jerricka was filling her head with lies, and it’s no wonder Zarah’s so confused. Now that bitch is keeping her at a lake cabin that could be miles in the middle of nowhere, telling her God knows what.”
“We’ll get her out of there.”
“And press charges for kidnapping. She had no business approaching Zarah this morning. I want her license yanked and serving time.”
“Zarah went willingly,” he says, but the pull of his mouth suggests he doesn’t quite believe that.
“Maureen said she heard Jerricka taunt Zarah about me. Jerricka knew just where to hit Zarah the hardest. I told her I didn’t want to marry her until all this unraveled. I didn’t want it to look like I was taking advantage of her if we married while she was still on all that medication, and Jerricka smacked her with that, right between the eyes. She twists what Zarah tells her. It’s sick and abusive.”
Zane’s saved from trying to calm me down as he veers off the street and into the lot of the strip mall. The office lights are dark—Pop’s at home. Spring is just a dream, and the sun set hours ago. The streetlights blinked on in retaliation, the dirty parking lot hidden under a thick layer of sparkling snow. The twinkling stars do nothing to ease my fear. Zarah’s alone with Jerricka Solis, and she is not okay.
“I’ll be right back.”
Baby jumps out of the truck and immediately lifts a leg against the building. Zane might not like it, but I’ll need to let her have five minutes so she can eat and gulp down some water. We’ve been gone half the day and she hasn’t complained. I should leave her here, but if we get a bead on where Jerricka’s lake cabin is, we’ll hit the road, and I don’t work cases without my dog.
I use the bathroom too, brew two disposable cups of coffee while Baby chomps her kibble and attacks her water dish, and I almost forget Mallory’s watch in the safe. Feeling the tension, Baby knows we’re in a hurry, and though I know she could have used another ten minutes, she comes when I call. I approach the truck, the headlights blinding, my hands full. Zane’s impatiently tapping his fingers against the steering wheel and he leans over and opens the door.
“Thanks,” he says and shoves the cup I give him into a holder between our seats. I let Baby into the backseat and we’re racing across the parking lot before I can latch my seatbelt.
“Do you know where this guy lives?”
“I looked him up while you were inside. He’s got a nice spread in Rose Valley.”
Rose Valley is an enclave where some of the richest people of King’s Crossing like to cluster. It’s not that far from where Polly Donnelly lives.
“Is he going to be home on a Saturday night?”
“He wasn’t, but he should be by the time we get there. I called his cell and told him a druggie attempting a B & E tripped his security system and the police needed to talk to him.”
I huff a laugh. “You impersonated a cop?”
“Stella’s taught me a thing or two.”
“Nice. She gonna be mad she’s not with us?”
“She started her own digging, trying to find out where Jerricka’s lake house is located. She’ll be smart—she won’t hide Zarah on property that’s listed under her name. That’s too easy to find. Like anything the Blacks ever did, she’ll operate out of an LLC. Stella’s good on a computer. Mel taught her a lot.”
Dr. Stephen Mallory’s house is the brightest mini-mansion on the block, all the lights ablaze. Zane parks in front of a three- stall garage that’s attached to a three-story house. It’s not that much different from Zane’s own house, and I wonder if Mallory has a pool and tennis courts in his backyard like all rich people seem to think you need.
Zane pounds on the front door, his breath blowing out in a white stream illuminated by the porch light.
The door flies open and the entryway frames a harried Dr. Mallory. “It’s about time you fuckers—” He stops and gapes. “You’re not cops.”
“No, we’re not, but we need to talk to you anyway,” Zane says, pushing his way past the flustered doctor who can’t seem to find his tongue.
Baby approaches Mallory and presses her nose into his crotch. She likes him. That’s interesting. “Baby,” I admonish, and whining guiltily, she moves her nose away from the guy’s nuts. “She won’t hurt you.” Unless I want her to. The threat is implied, and he backs away, swallowing nervously.
Tearing his gaze away from my fluffy death weapon and zeroing in on Zane, Mallory spits, “Maddox, what do you want?”
“It’s not what I want, it’s what you want. I have something that belongs to you.”
“There is nothing you have that I could possibly want. Is all this fuss and commotion warranted? Don’t we have a meeting scheduled later this week? Did you call me?”
“Invite us in, Mallory.”
He sniffs. “I’m sure you’ll do whatever you want. You always have.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Closing Quiet Meadows was an atrocity that did not need to happen. Simply discharging your sister would have been quite adequate.”
“Nothing will give Zarah back the five years she spent in that hellhole.” Without the invitation, Zane steps deeper into a wide foyer and I follow. There’s no indication which way could lead to a living room, a study, or a library, anywhere we can sit and have a conversation, and Mallory isn’t too keen on letting us too far inside.
We stand and drip water onto the tile.
“Hundreds of patients need care that’s unavailable to them now. What do you want? I was at a fundraiser when you called me. Unnecessarily, I might add.”
“You were engaged to Jerricka Solis,” I say to keep us on track.
“I was, yes. Is she all right?”
“She brought my sister to her lake house, and we need to know where that is.”
“I don’t know. I knew she owned lakeside property, but she never brought me out there. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.”
In a burst of fury I’m beginning to realize is very much like Zane, he pushes Mallory against the wall, the doctor’s white dress shirt bunched in his fists, knocking his black-framed glasses askew. “I don’t believe you.”
“Davenport, call off your mutt,” Mallory barks, his face red but calm. Baby likes him, he’s not scared of Zane, and he knows who I am. I may need to reassess just who exactly this guy is.
“He’s not going to answer questions like that,” I say, and Zane releases him, throwing me a dirty look. “What? He said he doesn’t know, but maybe we can change his mind. Nothing’s free.” I pull Mallory’s watch out of the inside pocket of my jacket. It’s sealed in an evidence bag similar to what the cops use when they’re combing a crime scene. If this discussion doesn’t go well, we’ll turn it over to the police. We may have to anyway. There’s been no progress made on Ingrid’s homicide, and for all I know, this is the only piece of evidence the cops will have.
“My Patek. Where did you find it? I’d like it back as it was given to me by a dear friend.”
“Do you mean Jerricka?” I ask.
Mallory nods. “She gave it to me as an engagement gift.”
“And what did you give her? An STD?” Zane asks, tongue-in-cheek.
Irritated, he clears his throat. “Very mature. She said she didn’t want anything, nothing material. She said all she ever wanted was to have a baby.”
“And did she?” I ask, surprised the ice queen has a biological clock that works.
“We never married.”
“That doesn’t mean she didn’t have a baby.”
“If she did, she didn’t have mine,” he says coldly, smoothing his shirt. He steps toward me, his arm outstretched. “Can I have it back, please?”
“Aren’t you curious why we have it?” I jiggle the bag.
He falters. “I—I assumed Jerricka gave it to you. I went to her apartment one evening to apologize, to try to explain my position. One thing led to another, and I spent the night. I forgot it on her nightstand. I’ve been trying to reach her to get it back, but she won’t return my calls.”
“Why would you assume I know Jerricka on a personal level?” I cringe.
“You’re dating Zarah Maddox. It’s all over the news. I thought, maybe, well, maybe she gave my watch to Miss Maddox to give to you. I’m not...I’m not sure.” Dr. Mallory loses some of his color. “Where did you find it?”
I ignore him and ask Zane, “Do you believe it?”
“Nope. You?”
“He seems sincere enough, but all these head shrinks know how to lie.”
“Do you know Ingrid Flannigan?” Zane asks.
Dr. Mallory loses what color he had left and slides his glasses off his face. Rubbing his eyes, he says, “This is bad, isn’t it? I need a drink.”
Baby trots happily alongside him, brushing up against his leg, leaving a smear of white fur on his black tuxedo pants.
Zane shoots me a puzzled look, but all I can do is shrug. Baby knows her people, and she’s made Mallory one of hers. I can’t explain it.
Mallory leads us into a mancave of a library. There are books everywhere, and scanning the shelves I find everything from Stephen King to Marlon James. Had this been any other kind of visit, it would have been pleasant to chat about the authors he enjoys, but his reading tastes will be the last thing we talk about.
Zane settles onto a leather couch and accepts a couple inches of something in a shiny lowball glass. I don’t sit, but I accept a glass as well, just to buff out my edges. The minutes are passing by in a blur of horror I’m trying desperately to push back because I’ve worked enough missing children cases, and adults for that matter, to know you can’t rush these things. Hints and clues are everywhere, and just because I want to know this second where Zarah is, that doesn’t mean I will.
I force myself to wait until Mallory has downed two drinks and is on his third, and then I ask, “So you do know Ingrid Flannigan.”
“I don’t, not in the way you’re implying. She’s dead. I read about it in the newspaper. Tortured by the sounds of it, and left to die, or by God’s grace, she was already dead, in a warehouse near the Renegade. She was Miss Maddox’s nurse, wasn’t she?”
“Yes. My father and I poked around that warehouse, and we found your watch at the scene. It has a smatter of blood on the face. If we gave it to the police to have it tested, do you think it would match Ingrid’s?”
“There’s no doubt,” Mallory says and downs the rest of his drink. He’ll be drunk before long if he keeps it up. “When was she killed?”
“She disappeared two days after New Year’s Day, but we haven’t spoken to the coroner for the official time of death.”
“I was in Boston at a conference all that week. I was the keynote speaker, and the hotel will have a record of my reservation.”
“Convenient.”
“True, nonetheless.”
“Say we believe you. What is there to be gained by anyone framing you for her death?”
“Why kill her in the first place?” Mallory shoots back, and I flinch. We don’t know why Ingrid Flannigan was tortured and murdered.
“That’s something we still haven’t figured out,” I admit, “but we were hoping we’d shed some light on the why if we could find the who.”
Mallory glares. “Keep looking.”
“You treated patients at Quiet Meadows during the time Zarah was there. She told me she remembers you.”
He pales, and if his face loses any more color, a corpse would look healthier. “She remembers me?”
I tilt my head, studying him. “Yes. She remembers you wheeling her down to the basement. She remembers what you did to her down there. I have a video of her reliving a ...session.”
Zane swears.
Mallory pours another drink, his hand trembling, and throws it back. “That wasn’t me! I knew they were testing drug effectiveness, but it wasn’t until after Quiet Meadows closed I learned of their methods. Martin Pederson was head of that project.”
“And what project was that?” Zane asks, his teeth clenched.
“They were testing a new dementia drug.”
“Why would Zarah have been a participant in that study?” I ask. “She doesn’t have dementia. Her memory issues are caused by the drugs Ashton Black forced on her to keep his secrets, and from what I understand, Dr. Pederson’s specialty is schizophrenia and bipolar disorder.”
He flicks a glance at me. “She must have met certain criteria to be considered as a subject.”
“What do you know about the other girls who passed away recently? JodiAnne Connelly, Savannah Mesa, Marci Greyson? Stacy Birmingham? They’re around the same age, and they were all patients at Quiet Meadows. You can’t tell me that’s a coincidence.”
“It’s not.” Mallory ages right in front of us, and I don’t feel an ounce of sympathy. “They were part of the same study. Someone is trying to hide the testing that went on at the facility. Look, I disagreed with what they were doing. It’s part of the reason why Jerricka and I broke our engagement. After Quiet Meadows closed, she treated some of those girls, and the ones she didn’t, she stalked and reported her findings to Pederson. I had no idea she had so little respect for our ethics as psychiatrists and doctors. First, do no harm. That’s our creed, and she wasn’t following that. Not to mention her total disregard for client/patient confidentiality.”
I look at Zane, and he blanches, knowing exactly what I’m about to say. “That’s why she approached you about Zarah’s therapy.” I turn my attention back to Mallory. “Why didn’t you report her?”
“Because I value my life too much.”
“You’re scared of Pederson?” I ask skeptically.
“What? No.”
“We spoke with Alan Guthrie. He told us Rourke Cook owned Quiet Meadows at that time.”
Mallory stills. “If he did, that’s news to me.”
I don’t believe him. Mallory might not be scared of Pederson, but he’s scared of someone.
“Pederson was Quiet Meadows’ head psychiatrist. If Cook didn’t have knowledge of the studies, and that’s a big if because Iona Belsely stated she saw him there on several occasions over the years,” I say, twisting what Iona told us, “who was telling Pederson to run them?”
“For fuck’s sake. Who do you think? Who do you think was there almost every day? Who do you think kept an eye on Miss Maddox? Who do you think funded those studies? Drugs just don’t pop into a prescription bottle complete with a childproof cap. Labs, scientists, ingredients, mice, rats, fucking monkeys—that all has a very high cost.”
I’m on to him before he’s done ranting, but none of this makes sense. “Why would Ashton Black be interested in a dementia drug?”
“Hell if I know. Why did he sell women? Because he could? Because he wanted to? Because no one told that son of a bitch no in his entire life? Spoiled fucking brat. If you want to know what he and that asshole Pederson were doing, you’ll have to ask him, and good luck getting onto his visitors’ list. I’ve heard no one can get in to talk to him.”
Zane stands. “We’ll take our chances.”
“Can I have my watch back now?” Mallory sinks onto a decorative bench near his bar and holds his head in his hands. “I didn’t ask for any of this. All I did was fall in love.”
“I think we’ll hang on to it. You never know if it will come in handy.” I pause. “You have no idea where Jerricka’s keeping Zarah.” I ask one more time, just to make absolutely sure I didn’t miss him lying to me.
Mallory sniffles. All his fight is gone. “No. I’m sorry. I would tell you, I swear on my life, but she didn’t invite me up there and that’s God’s honest truth. After she broke our engagement, she hosted a party for a few of the pharmaceutical bigwigs doing the research. I heard Clayton and Ashton were invited. If you can buy your way into the prison, you can ask him.”
“The state pen’s five hours away,” I whisper in dread.
Jerricka could do whatever she wanted to Zarah by the time we drove to the state penitentiary, question Ash Black, and find her lake house, a lake house that could be anywhere in the state.
Zane meets my eyes, greener than the last time I got food poisoning when I ate a rinky-dink burger joint near the office.
“Not if we fly.”