Bound by Suggestion (11 page)

The clinic was always crowded on a Friday, as if people’s aches and pains intensified on the last working day of the week, causing the waiting room to explode with patients.

Richard donned a clean lab coat and checked the schedule. His first patient wasn’t due for another fifteen minutes, which gave him plenty of time for a second cup of coffee.

He headed for the doctors’ lounge and found the pot empty. Cursing the jerk who’d drained the dregs without making a fresh pot, he found a new filter and the premeasured pack, set them in the basket and pushed the Bunn-O-Matic’s start button. He thought about timing the process, but decided that was too anal. Still, his gaze strayed to the clock over the door.

One Mississippi, two Mississippi . . . .

The lounge door opened and Krista Marsh charged in. “Richard,” she said, her voice filled with warmth.

Just the person he’d hoped to see.

“Krista, it’s been a while.”

“Since we saw each other at Paula Devlin’s,” she agreed.

“How’s she doing?”

“Pretty good, all things considered. She still has a lot of issues to work through, but she’s moving forward.”

He nodded. “I understand my brother Jeff agreed to help you out with another of your patients. How’s it going?”

“Very well.” She searched the cupboards, coming up with a stack of Styrofoam cups. “Do you need one?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

The coffee maker continued chugging.

“He mentioned you’d helped him with his headaches,” Richard prompted.

“Yes.”

He waited for her to say more. When she didn’t, he asked, “Have you got a new therapy for migraines?”

“Not necessarily new. Biofeedback and hypnotism. It’s a powerful combination.”

“He called it a cure.”

Her eyes lit up. “I’m flattered.”

“Are the two of you seeing each other socially?” It was a dumb question he realized too late; wouldn’t Jeff have mentioned it if they were?

“As a matter of fact, we’re having lunch today. It’s our first date. I love talking with Jeff. He has such a unique perspective on life.”

“He’s certainly lived a different one than me,” Richard agreed.

The coffee maker stopped gurgling as the last of the brew filled the pot. Krista poured herself a cup, then one for Richard.

“I’ve got to run. See you later.” She headed for the door.

Richard dumped a heaping teaspoon of whitener into his cup, followed by another of sugar. Okay, he’d spoken with Krista. But she hadn’t really told him anything. Nothing, in fact, at all . . . .

My ass
cheeks were already beginning to complain, and I’d only been camped out a little over an hour in the Athena Diner’s parking lot. Not that I’d tested the shabby restaurant’s cuisine. I was there for a very different reason. The lot on Colvin Boulevard was the perfect vantage point to scope out Patterson Industries’ front door. But the person I’d been waiting for hadn’t shown up. Day off, quit, or maybe laid off? I had no way of knowing.

My gaze on the building was so intent that I didn’t see someone walk up on the driver’s side of my car. The knock on the window startled me, set my heart pounding.

A familiar face peered at me. I rolled down the window.

“Mr. Resnick. Long time no see.”

My gut tightened. “Detective Hayden.”

Hayden had been the lead investigator on the Sumner murder case and he hadn’t wanted my help to solve it. It was only weeks after the mugging; I’d looked like an escaped mental patient and was still getting used to those blasted bursts of insight. Of course he’d been skeptical that I’d known who’d done the deed—until the murderer shot Richard. Then he became a believer real fast.

“What are you doing in this neck of the woods?” I asked.

“Having breakfast with a brother officer from another jurisdiction—comparing notes on a case. How about you?”

“Just waiting for someone.”

He looked over at Patterson Industries front entrance. “I heard you were now a night person, working at some bar in Snyder. Nine o’clock is awfully early to be out and about.”

“Insomnia,” I said.

He looked over at the entrance again, then back to me. “If I didn’t know better, I might think you were staking out the lot across the street. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I’m just waiting for someone.”

Again he looked from me, to the parking lot, and back again. “I think I’ll wait with you.” He walked over to the passenger side of my car and slid inside.

I leaned back in the bucket seat, stretching my legs.

“I’ve tried to keep up with your exploits,” Hayden said. “You’re a busy man.”

“Keeps me off the streets.”

“Let’s see.” He ticked off the index finger of his left hand. “Something happened in Vermont last fall. I never did find out exactly what. Then that guy got killed in your brother’s yard back in December. Oh, and I heard you helped find the missing kid. Did I leave anything out?”

“Just doing my civic duty.”

My heart picked up speed when the familiar blue Hyundai pulled into the Patterson lot. I tried to keep my breathing under control. “How’re the wife the kids?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Fine. Eddie, my youngest, is top bowler in his league. Just like his old man—”

A woman got out of the car, bent to gather her things, then shut the door and headed for the entrance.

“I’m gonna have to build some shelves just to house all the kid’s trophies,” Hayden went on.

Maggie wore a trench coat belted at her waist, carried an insulated lunch bag, her purse, and a green canvas bag, which I knew would contain the newspaper, her office shoes, and maybe her novel of the week. She paused at the doorway, searched her purse for her ID pass, then swiped it and entered the building: nine oh five a.m. by the dash clock.

Hayden kept talking. “And the oldest is on the junior varsity baseball team. The next Yankees All-Star, you wait and see.”

I glanced down the road, watched the traffic light at the corner turn from red to green. She brought her lunch. That meant she wasn’t planning on leaving the building before the end of the workday.

“The wife wants to go to Hawaii,” Hayden continued. “I said no way. I’m not sitting on a plane for eleven hours just to be stuck on some island in the middle of the ocean. We could fly to the Bahamas in a lot shorter time, for a lot less money, and bake just as brown. And besides, it’s almost summer anyway.”

I consulted my watch. “Doesn’t look like my friend’s going to show. I may as well go home.”

Hayden’s level glare pinned me. “I think the show’s been over for two minutes.” He looked back at the Patterson entrance. “My brother officer—the one I had breakfast with is pretty high placed in the Tonawanda PD. One of his family members had an unfortunate experience. He doesn’t tolerate stalkers in his town. Takes enforcing the law for such offenders very seriously.”

“That’s commendable.”

“So . . . if someone
were
to bother the lady who entered that building three minutes ago, I would pretty much know where to tell my friend to find the perp.”

I turned to face him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, yeah, you do. Don’t let your personal feelings get out of hand. It’ll screw up your whole life, Resnick, and it ain’t worth it. Take my advice and find yourself a new girlfriend. There’s plenty of fish in the ocean.”

“I think I’ve heard that one before.”

He reached for the door handle. “I’ve got your license number, and if I find out you’re here on Monday, or Tuesday, or any other day of the week, I’ll make sure your life becomes very uncomfortable.”

“I’ll remember that.”

He pointed a finger at me. “Be good.” Then he climbed out, shut the door and walked over to an unmarked car.

I started my engine, put the car in gear, then pulled out of the lot and headed south on Colvin Boulevard.

Be good.

Sound advice.

I only hoped I’d be able to take it.

I went
home and crashed for a couple of hours. I wanted to be sharp for my conversation with Krista. But it took me a long time to fall asleep. Hayden’s warning stayed with me. What had I hoped to accomplish by spying on Maggie?

Nothing, really. I’d just wanted to see her. Hell, scoping her out from a hundred yards had been just plain dumb. I’d be better off mooning over the hundreds of candid pictures I’d taken of her over the past year. Something a teenager would do.

The thought bothered me, and I wasn’t sure why.

I got to the restaurant before Krista and snagged a table. It was a lot more upscale than I’d anticipated, and I frowned as I studied the lunch menu. Not an entree under twelve ninety-five.

Krista showed up ten minutes late and immediately hailed the waitress. “House salad, raspberry vinaigrette on the side. And give me a cappuccino.”

As the waitress left, Krista dipped into her purse, taking out a small mirror and a tube of lipstick. “It has been the craziest morning.” She applied a new coat.

“Hello. Nice to see you. I’m fine.”

She pouted. “Sorry, Jeff. I feel like I’ve been traveling in a wind tunnel. I’ve been trying to knock down my caseload at the hospital and concentrate on my practice, but it’s been a lot tougher than I thought it would be—”

Krista droned on. I hadn’t before noticed how self-absorbed she was. Or was it her choice of topic that bored me—the wonderful world of Krista.

I thought we’d gotten together to get to know one another, but it soon became apparent she had no intention of asking me any questions. I didn’t much feel like volunteering anything, anyway.

I studied her face and the blonde hair framing it. She’d gotten a trim since I’d seen her the day before. I bet she visited her hairdresser on a regimented schedule. Maggie’s chosen hairstyle let her go months before she’d have to get shorn. I liked it wind-blown and natural looking. I loved it when she’d laugh, raking a hand through her auburn locks while helping me in the garden.

Yeah, Krista was a treat for the eyes, but I longed for the other half of my soul.

The waitress came with Krista’s rocket-powered coffee. Maggie only drank decaf.

Why did everything about this classy, sophisticated woman seem inferior to Maggie? When I decided to pursue Krista, I’d only been looking for someone to warm my bed, not soothe my soul. No doubt about it, she was a different kind of independent than Maggie. Krista’s life was her work—that’s all she talked about. But she also seemed more concerned with hospital politics, and how she could worm her way to the upper echelon, than with her patients’ welfare.

“Griff Chambers said the funniest thing at the section meeting yesterday,” she said, launching into yet another work-related anecdote.

I’d always been content to let Maggie carry the conversational ball, but then we’d had a lot in common. Okay, not a lot. But I enjoyed hearing about the things that interested her. Her creative projects, the books she read. During the months we spent refurbishing and decorating my apartment, we’d shared our past histories, discussed the future, exposed our souls. In fourteen short months, I’d probably conversed with Maggie more than any other woman I’d known. She knew how to draw me out of my pensive moods and made me smile—which was no easy feat.

Krista touched my hand, startling me back to the present. “Where’ve you been?”

“Just thinking,” I said. She had no clue I was on the rebound, and it could stay that way. Would stay that way. Being with Krista was just killing time until . . . until Maggie came to her senses?

Yeah. She’d eventually come back to me. I knew that. Well, chose to believe that.

Sure. Doug could get hit by a bus tomorrow.

She’d be back.

The trust would be hard to recoup, but I’d probably feel the same about her. Okay, maybe a little more wary . . . .

Maybe a lot more wary.

Maybe always wary.
If
she came back . . . .

Krista yammered on. I searched her dark eyes. Could I ever really trust her?

It was time to test it. Only I had to wait for her to wind down.

“I keep thinking about something you said. That Grace and I would remember everything that went on in our sessions. I don’t remember anything that happened during the session, or after you hypnotized me yesterday.”

She took the change of subject in stride and shrugged, grabbing her cup and taking a sip. “Very simple explanation. After Grace’s tantrum, she revealed some . . . .” She paused. “Personal information she’d be uncomfortable sharing with a man—with you. I’ve given you a posthypnotic suggestion to forget those things.”

That sounded reasonable. Unacceptable, but reasonable.

Was I remembering things out of sequence, or just not remembering them at all? Something seemed off about what she said, but I couldn’t figure out what.

“That wasn’t what I signed on for,” I said.

“You can’t back out now—you can’t believe the breakthroughs we’ve already made.”