Chapter 49
Ridge
The double doors to the hangar slide open at my approach. I step through into the familiar hush of this particular wing of the hospital. A nurse looks up from her station and then back down at what she was doing.
Dr. Patel stands next to another door, tablet in hand, frowning at a chart, while a junior physician beside him explains something in low tones. He’s in his white coat, with a stethoscope looped around his neck.
I go over there. He doesn’t see me until I’m almost on top of him.
“Dr. Patel.”
He glances over, his eyes widen, and then he makes his expression neutral.
“Can I have a word?” I ask.
“As you can see, I’m in the middle of rounds. Whatever it is can surely wait.”
“It can’t. We need to talk.”
“I’m busy right now.” He turns back to the chart and taps something into the tablet, dismissing me. “Schedule an appointment with Carla. Perhaps next week.”
“Doctor.” My tone makes the junior physician beside him glance down at the chart and then very carefully look away. “I told you yesterday that I might need to do this again. I kept our last appointment brief. There are a few things we need to go over.”
“And as I told you,” Patel says, still not looking at me, “I have answered every question I am required to answer. I have nothing further to add.”
“We can do this the easy way,” I say quietly, “or the hard way. The hard way involves me walking you out of this ward in front of every member of staff on this floor, to my vehicle, so that I can take you to Security Central for in-depth questioning. It’s your choice.”
That gets his attention. His head turns toward me slowly, and for the first time today, I see something move across his face. He hands the tablet to the junior physician.
“That is highly inappropriate. But fine. I don’t want to stand in the way of this investigation. If I can help get Dr. Keller cleared, I’ll set time aside. The consultation room at the end of the wing. We can’t be too long.”
“No problem. I will be sure to get straight to the point.”
Patel walks away, and I follow him down the long corridor past the recovery bays to a consultation room that sits at the far end of the wing.
It has a heavy door for privacy and a small table with four chairs. I close the door behind us. He doesn’t sit.
“I want it on record,” he says, rounding on me, “that I object to this. And I also want it on record that I am extremely unhappy you went to my house. And that you harassed my poor wife.”
“I followed up on every interview I conducted. It’s standard procedure. I wasn’t at your house for long, and your wife seemed absolutely fine.”
“Well, she wasn’t. Avani was a mess last night when I came home.”
Yeah right. I highly doubt that.
“She thought I’d done something wrong. My own wife.” His voice climbs. “Even though she confirmed my alibi, you still got her all riled up, which I don’t appreciate at all.”
“Sorry to hear that. It wasn’t my intention at all, and yes, she did confirm that you were home on the night of the eleventh.”
“Which is why I do not understand why we are sitting down for this conversation again. It is, quite frankly, a waste of both my time and yours.”
“Indulge me, please.”
“I have done nothing wrong.”
I gesture to the chair.
“Please take a seat.”
For a long beat, I think he’s going to refuse. Then he pulls the chair out, sits, and folds his arms tight across his chest.
I take the seat opposite and open the folder I’ve been carrying. The first photograph goes face up on the table between us. Patel glances down, then up at me; his expression is blank.
“I’m not sure what I’m looking at.”
“It’s a footprint,” I say. “Recovered from the soft soil at the base of the exterior stairs at Dr. Keller’s apartment.
It was taken the same night someone tried to break into her apartment through the slider.
Forensics has confirmed the size and the make of the shoe. ” I slide the second photograph across.
“What does this have to do with me?”
“This is the shoe. It is handcrafted in Italy and is a particular brand, not exactly common on the island. The print was of a size nine shoe.”
He looks at the photo for a moment.
“I own a pair. You saw me wearing them.”
“I remember.”
“I’m still not sure what this has to do with me.” His chin lifts a fraction. “I am a size eight. Carla orders our uniforms and our work footwear for personnel who require them. She has my size on file. You can verify this with her. It isn’t my shoe. It must be from someone else. Are we done now?”
“Not quite yet. Bear with me. I did verify your shoe size with Carla.”
I take out the printout Carla gave me and place it on the table.
“You are confirmed to be a size eight.”
“Then we are done.”
“Your wife told me an interesting story while I visited with her. She mentioned that she accidentally bought you the wrong shoe size. She was quite horrified that she had gotten it wrong. She bought you a size nine for Christmas.”
His arms tighten, and he changes position in his seat, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “That proves nothing.”
“It places a size nine pair of these particular shoes in your household.”
“That doesn’t mean I was at Dr. Keller’s apartment that night. I had nothing to do with any of this.” Red is creeping up from his collar. “What do you want from me?”
“I want the truth.”
“I have given you the truth.”
I let the silence hold for a moment before I speak again. “Did you leave your home during the night of Wednesday the eleventh, and did you take your wife’s car?”
“No,” he snorts. “I’m offended you would ask.”
“Did you drug your wife that night so that she wouldn’t wake up?”
His chair scrapes back an inch. “How dare you!”
“Answer the question, Doctor.”
“No! I did not drug my wife. I would never do such a thing. The suggestion is offensive.”
“Did she perhaps leave the house that night without your knowledge?”
“No, of course not. What are you suggesting? I am going to get up, I am going to walk out, and you can speak to my attorney. My wife and I are innocent of any wrongdoing. We were in bed. We stayed in bed. End of discussion.” His face has turned red.
Instead of answering, I take out the next set of photographs and place them face up, one next to the other.
He looks down, even though I can tell he doesn’t want to.
They’re CCTV stills from the road that runs along the rear of Robyn’s apartment building. Time and date-stamped of a dark Mercedes pulling onto the road near Robyn’s apartment.
“Is this your wife’s vehicle?” I ask.
He stares at the photographs. A muscle near his temple twitches. He swallows, and a bead of sweat traces a slow line from his hairline along his jaw. He doesn’t wipe it away.
“Of course not.” His voice has thinned. “There must be… There must be dozens of that model on the island. Hundreds, even.” He flicks at one photograph with the tip of his finger.
“It isn’t hers because we were home. If you wish to continue this farce, you can do so through my lawyer. I have patients to—”
I place another photograph on the table. It’s the same vehicle, but a closer angle, and a different camera, taken from the side. The registration plate is clear. The time and date-stamp, too.
He stops with one hand on the back of the chair. The breath goes out of him in a small, audible release. After a long second, he sinks back down and pulls the photograph toward him, turning it under the overhead light as if a different angle might rearrange the numbers on the plate.
“Does the number on that license plate belong to your wife’s car?” I ask.
“It…” He clears his throat. “It is.” He pushes it away, but his hand stays on it. “I cannot account for this. I cannot account for how her vehicle came to be there at that time. It—” He stops and then starts again. “The vehicle must have been stolen.”
“Stolen.” I push out a laugh because really?
“Yes. It is the only explanation, since neither of us left home that night.”
“Why would anyone steal a car, drive it to the rear of Dr. Keller’s apartment building on the one night someone attempted to enter her home, and then return the vehicle to your garage? It doesn’t make any kind of sense.”
His hand on the photograph trembles, only a little. “I am being framed.” He says it with conviction. “Someone has gone to extraordinary lengths to frame me.”
“Have they now?” I open the folder again. I take out the still I have been saving. He sees it before I have laid it flat on the table, and the color drains from his face.
It is a clear shot of him in front of his wife’s vehicle in front of Robyn’s apartment building. His hands are at his waistband, tucking a clear envelope holding documents into his pants.
“I can show you the entire video of you leaving your wife’s vehicle with documents and then running back with a crowbar and leaving at speed.”
He looks at the photograph for a long time. “Not necessary. It only proves that I was at that address with a package.”
“A package that looks very much like the one found in her office.”
“I was outside her building. Nothing more. There is no footage of me on her property. There is no footage of me planting anything. You have nothing.” He stands up again, more steadily this time, although his hands are shaking and he does not try to hide it.
“I am done. I am calling my attorney, and I am filing a complaint against you for harassment. You have circumstantial photographs and a great deal of theater. You have nothing of substance. If you had enough for an arrest, I would already be in handcuffs.”
He’s right.
Fuck!
I push my chair back and stand up too. “Please don’t leave.
Sit down. Let’s talk about this.” He pauses at the door, his hand on the frame.
“I know someone got to you,” I say. “I know they threatened you. Or they threatened your wife, or your children. You’re afraid.
I know you wouldn’t have done this otherwise.
Someone made you do this. Let me help you. ”
“I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“I can offer protection to you and your family. We can fix this, but we need you to come clean.”
“There is nothing to come clean about.” He turns back to the door. “I am leaving. We are finished.”
“Robyn Keller is looking at twenty years.”
He stops. His back is to me. His hand stays on the frame.
“Twenty years,” I repeat. “She didn’t do this. You know it, and I know it.”
For just a second, it looks like he might confess, but then he straightens.
He turns his head a fraction. “I’m sorry.” It’s a whisper.
I’m on my feet in the next second. “Then I’m going to the media. I will give every photograph in this folder to every paper and news station on the island. I will name you, Doctor.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I can and will.”
“It proves nothing.” His voice has gone tight. “This is inadmissible.”
“And also quite damning. What will your colleagues think? Your supervisors? The hospital board? Your wife’s friends. Everyone on this island will know what you did, even if I can’t prove it.” I take a step closer. “Dr. Keller is loved. Your life as you know it will be over.”
“That’s called defamation of character. You will lose your job.” He turns now, slowly, his face bright red. “You will lose your home. You will lose your career. I will sue you for every dollar you will ever earn. I will see you in a cell.”
I laugh. “I don’t give a fuck.” I mean it. “Sue me. Destroy me. We’ll go down together.”
“Are you mad?”
“No, I care about Dr. Keller. And I think you do too. I am asking you one more time, Doctor. Please. Do the right thing here. Let me help you. Let me help your family.”
He looks at me for a long time, then he opens the door and walks out.
I stand in the consultation room feeling like a complete loser. It didn’t work. I was so sure I could convince him.
Fuck!
I put my forehead on the desk and then sit up straight, breathing deeply.
I plan on following through. I’m going to bury him. I don’t give a shit about myself.
The door opens, and Patel walks back in. His tie is undone. His white coat is gone. He looks ten years older than he did fifteen minutes ago.
His eyes meet mine, and they’re filled with fear. He lowers himself into the chair across from me.
“I’ll confess. I cannot live with this, with what I did,” he says. “I didn’t have a choice. They threatened my boys. You have to promise to keep them safe. My wife, too. I planted the evidence. I did what I was told. It wasn’t Dr. Keller. She is innocent. Please help me.”
“I will,” I tell him. “You have my word.”
“Ask your questions, Ridge.” He stops, and his eyes lift to mine at last. “I will answer all of them.”
“Let me get a team of guards to your house…to the school.”
His shoulders slump, and he starts crying in wracking sobs.