Forgotten Girls, The (17 page)

Bella sat in the small, private
back room at the precinct, the door shut, reading a confidential seventy-five-page
federal investigatory report on Dunmore. It had been a difficult document to
get and Mikey had hit a dead end. Bella called Ryan, again, and Ryan called
some of his old friends from grad school, who knew not only more about Dunmore
than anyone would want to know, but who knew how to get their hands on the
report. Ryan had pulled through. Big time. Three hours later a copy lay in
Bella’s lap.

Mack had gone into the sleeper to
get some shut-eye—but Bella had gotten a second wind after speaking to Doug and
Jessie. Somewhere inside of her she couldn’t shake the feeling that Weber knew something.
She wasn’t as ready as Mack to definitively proclaim Ridley their guy.
Something was telling her there was more here.

She sifted through the report
bleary-eyed as she polished off another cup of lukewarm coffee Attached to the
official report were the rambling patient statements, the graphic accusations
of sexual abuse and rape against Bobby Barker, the sordid medical histories of
the victims, and the photos recovered in Bobby’s suite at the time of his
arrest.

Bobby’s unfettered power over
those women locked up in the asylum was on display in one photo after another.
Bella sorted through them all. In one photo, three women who looked more like
girls sat on his lap. In another, Bobby’s arms were wrapped around two women dressed
as girls, their hair in pig –tails, each wearing an orange jumpsuit. In a
third, he lay on a bed in his underwear wearing only a big gold cross hanging
down over his hairy chest. The fox had guarded the henhouse, Bella saw in
disgust.

Then she saw it—the photo that
made her stop dead in her tracks—Bobby at a dance party, wearing a huge, curly,
red wig, surrounded by a posse of what looked to be adolescent girls, with a DJ
at his side. The girls in the photo were smiling, holding drinks, seemingly
happy. Some wore orange jumpsuits, one danced in a bikini, one wore shorts,
knee socks, and only a bra. They looked barely legal Bella noticed. Were they
patients or had they been snuck in? All of them, though, had one thing in
common. A ribbon around their neck with a crest at the bottom. There it was. Right
before her eyes.

The crests were from Dunmore.

*

Bella and Mack sat side by side at
a tiny table in a windowless, gray-tiled room in the back of the precinct in
the Bronx. Marion Weber sat across from them. Billy had pulled down a warrant
to search Weber’s home and office based on Bella’s finding. The search went off
without a hitch. Bella was running on two hours’ sleep after having spent the night
with Mack rummaging though Weber’s papers and files. Of supreme interest to
them was an old notebook among Weber’s belongings. Inside, three photos of a teenage
looking girl were taped to the back of the cover. This closed notebook now sat
in the middle of the small wooden table. Bella, Mack, and Weber sat in silence looking
at it. Bella leaned in and slowly opened the jacket cover, revealing the three
pictures inside.

“So?” Bella asked, pointing to a
particularly disturbing photo. A teenage girl was sitting on Weber’s lap in a
suggestive pose. “Who is she?”

“An old patient of mine it seems,”
Weber answered coldly.

“A patient? She looks more like a
girlfriend. Or pet toy.” Bella smiled.

Weber glared.

“Why have you kept it, and these others?”
Bella asked curiously. She leafed through the pages so Weber could see what she
was referring to.

“I didn’t keep them intentionally.
They just happen to be among my things.”

“Is she the one who wrote this love
poem?” Bella slid the poem across the table too.

“I don’t remember whom this is
from,” she answered, looking at the poem. “My patients at Dunmore were very
sick. They frequently experienced transference.”

So this patient was from Dunmore.
Bella had assumed so but hadn’t known for sure.

“She looks too young to have been
at Dunmore,” Bella observed.

Marion didn’t say a word.

“So some of these patients
experienced transference huh?” Bella looked skeptical. “That’s a pretty fancy
word. Care to elucidate us?” Bella knew exactly what the term meant but wanted
to hear Weber speak.

“It’s when a patient transfers
their feelings toward another onto the therapist.”

“Oh yeah?” Bella acted surprised. “Interesting.
So the love poem didn’t mean anything, then? And your saving these photos
doesn’t mean anything now?”

She let the question hang in the
air and waited for a response. Weber continued to glare.

“Want to know what I think, Marion?”
Bella asked when she saw she wasn’t going to get an answer. “You don’t mind if
I call you by your first name, do you?” Without waiting for a reply she went
on:

“I think you were in a
relationship with this young woman, an intimate relationship. And you took
advantage of her.”

“You’re crazy,” Marion spat back
angrily.

“Yeah?” Bella asked. “Maybe you’re
right. You’re the doctor after all. Maybe you are too, huh? Maybe we’re all a
bit loony.”

Bella laughed loudly and, for a
second, sounded nuts. Mack remained stoic.

“We will find her, that much I can
promise you. So we would appreciate it if you save us some time,” Bella said.

Marion’s cheeks flushed and her
hands looked clammy and blotchy when she clasped them together.

“I do not remember.”

“OK, then our work is cut out for
us. What about this one?”

Bella motioned to Mack to slide
another photo across the table. It was Bobby at the dance party surrounded by
girls with crests.

“What can you tell us about this
picture?” Bella asked, as Marion stared at the image.

“I can’t tell you anything about
it,” she replied.

“No? You don’t recognize that
gentleman?”

Marion snarled an answer: “That is
clearly Mr. Barker, but I have no idea what he and those girls are doing.”

“It looks like a dance party, no?
You see the DJ? They look like they are all dancing and having fun.”

“What about it?”

“Were you aware that Bobby held
parties at Dunmore?”

“I went through all of this with
the authorities years ago—every sordid picture and accusation. I was not
responsible for what he did and for what happened at night when I was not
there.”

Weber sounded angry.

“Anything else about the picture
that jumps out at ya?”

Weber shook her head.

“Notice the crests the girls have
around their necks? Ever seen them before?”

Marion looked at the photo and
said quietly, “I don’t recall.”

“You sure about that? It’s OK. Take
your time. Look again.”

The room was silent until she
lifted her head.

“I have no specific recollection
of ever seeing them before. I may have, but I simply do not remember. I worked
at Dunmore years ago.”

She was a cool customer still,
even after having her home and office searched, even after being hauled into a
precinct for questioning.

“Well, we’re gonna let you in on a
little secret, Marion,” Bella replied, leaning back with a smile. “A crest exactly
like this one was found hanging around Mrs. Freed’s neck.”

Weber looked genuinely shocked.
She let her mouth hang open for a moment before snapping it shut.

Bella continued, “Not only that—a
crest was also found hanging around the necks of the two girls who hung themselves—you
know, Sam and Sophie. And as it seems the crests came from inside Dunmore,
well, this is quite a situation we have here now, wouldn’t you agree?”

Marion’s stone-cold iciness gave
way now, as her eyes widened and her shoulders and chest heaved backwards. She
stared straight at Bella, as though Mack were not even in the room, pursed her
lips tightly together, and lifted her hands to her forehead. It was a reaction,
but one that was hard to read.

“Why don’t you tell us what you
know, Marion? You must know something that can help us, no?”

Weber remained far away.

“If you cooperate you can avoid
being dragged through the muck of publicity, a trial, the works. We’re guessing
you know something that might help explain how these crests surfaced here.”

Bella didn’t expect her to fold quickly
and she was right—she didn’t.

“I have not murdered anyone. I
want a lawyer.”

Billy was waiting at the door when
they exited the room.

“She’s iron. See what you can find
out about the girl while this one waits for her attorney. She’s protective of
her and I want to know why.”

The case was pointing in two very
different directions, and Billy was struggling with where to have Bella and
Mack focus. On the one hand, Mack had made a solid case against Ridley and his
connection to Greenvale, Joslyn, her daughter, and the drugs. Given his
background and the fact he had run, it seemed pretty straightforward. On the
other hand, Billy couldn’t help but agree with Bella that something was
seriously off with this doctor. She was reluctant to talk and, between that and
her connection to Dunmore and the crests, it was pretty hard to ignore the
possibility she might be involved somehow. Billy needed an outside perspective.
He called Assistant District Attorney John Hausner and asked him to come. He had
known John for almost a decade now and respected him immensely.

“So lay it out for me, please,”
John said. He was a senior ADA in the homicide bureau whom Bella knew, but not
well. He had a solid reputation as a trial lawyer, but was a bit of a ladies’
man in the office, so she had heard. Billy had given him a brief background so
Bella brought him up to speed and explained Dunmore’s history up until its
closing.

“The patients were all transferred
to State when they closed the place down,” Bella said. “All made it there. Except
one. Her name was Emilie LeCourt and she was released into the care of an uncle
—a guy named Henry Abbot. We’ve checked everywhere and there’s no record of a
Henry Abbot ever having existed. Her release was authorized by a Dr. Kempner,
who signed off on it.”

“Where is the doctor now?” Billy
asked.

“Living in Arlington, New York.
He’s eighty-three,” she answered.

“There is no record of her name or
social security number surfacing anywhere either,” she continued. “Vanished
into thin air.”

“What was she in for?” John asked.

“Killing her mother with a butcher
knife. She was sixteen.”

The three of them looked somber.

“And you’re thinking she might be
the girl in Weber’s photos?”

“We are wondering,” was all Bella
said. Then she added, “It looks like the feds spoke to any inmates—I mean
patients—they could have a sane conversation with, which weren’t many. Nothing I
found sheds any light.” Bella didn’t know what else to say.

“What do we know about Kempner?”
John asked.

“He was a hack,” Bella responded. “Never
rose above Assistant Superintendent. Had a wife and a kid. The only thing in
his name is a three-hundred-acre farm upstate.”

Billy raised his eyebrow.

“How’d he get the money for that?”
John questioned.

“Don’t know,” Bella answered
truthfully.

“Why don’t you find out,” John said.
“Doesn’t sound like something you buy on his kind of salary.”

Bella and Billy nodded.

“Look, the only reason to spend
time, money, and energy trying to find this girl is to have something to hold
over Weber’s head. It’s not crucial. Just might be a nice piece of leverage,
get her to talk.” Billy sounded tired.

“OK. Let me hear Weber’s motive,” John
said.

“Our victim confronted her a
couple of weeks ago and accused her of pumping her daughter with too much Adderall,”
Bella began.

“Had she been?” John asked.

“So far it looks like the girl was
snorting, but wasn’t getting it from Weber,” she reluctantly admitted. “We have
the dealer from school.”

“So Weber’s not on the hook for
that?” John clarified.

“Not yet,” Bella admitted. “Our
victim threatened Weber with an ethics complaint though,” she added hastily.

“OK. Any evidence linking her to
the scenes?” John pressed on.

“Only the crests,” Bella said hesitantly.
“It rained that night into morning and forensics came up with very little. A
remnant of black cashmere was found burnt in the Dumpster. She wasn’t wearing
black that night. It might have come off the killer.”

“And Weber was wearing black
cashmere that night?” John perked up.

“Not that we have heard,” Bella
admitted. John gave her a look.

“How the hell did Weber get the
cyanide? Anything on her computer that points to a purchase? Even a search?” John
looked irritated.

“We are looking into that now.”

“So she’s good enough to pull off
three murders with no prints or evidence, two of which are staged suicides, but
deliberately leaves a bread crumb at each scene so you can follow it all the
way back to her? Why would she do that?” John asked with disbelief.

“She wanted us to tie the three together,”
Billy jumped in.

“Yes, I see that,” John replied,
frustrated. “But why?”

Billy looked at Bella.

“We don’t have an answer to that
yet.” Bella sounded exhausted. “She has major skeletons in her closet, John.
There were rumors at Dunmore she had a thing for women, but no one would go on
the record. She invoked doctor-patient privilege and got out of testifying
against Barker. Not only did she not come forward with evidence of what he was
doing—she shielded him.”

“So again, why does she want to be
found now? Why kill the girls?” John asked, switching gears.

“We are checking her records to
see if she was treating either of them,” Billy interjected. “One girl was doped
up on Zoloft. I spoke with the parents. They knew nothing about it.”

“Did she need the parents’
consent? Wasn’t she eighteen?” John pointed out.

 “She was seventeen. Weber would
have needed consent. We’re a little fuzzy on her motive with the two of them,”
Bella answered truthfully.

She let that comment hang in the
air a second before continuing:

“Maybe she came on to one of them.
These girls were gay—we know that. And maybe she knew that too. And maybe she
overreached and was rejected. Scared they would rat her out. We need more time
to develop our theory.”

“Look, I hear you and it’s
fascinating,” John said, slightly sarcastic, “but we have no direct evidence
linking her to any of these murders. Literally, we are hanging our hats on
these crests. Have you looked into the possibility she’s being played?”

Bella raised her eyebrows.

“This case is reminding me of one
I had years back,” he continued, “where I had loads of evidence pointing to my
killer and got ambushed in the end precisely because of that: it was a setup. I
had jumped the gun.”

He looked at them a moment before continuing.
“We have to be able to answer why the crests were left, guys. Killers don’t
usually dig themselves a grave. If she did kill the three of them, why does she
want us to tie them together? You need to solidify her motive as well. Let’s
reconnect when you have answers.”

He stood and walked quickly out of
Billy’s office, closing the door behind him.

“He’s a smart guy.” Billy
shrugged, leaning back in his chair when John was gone. “I like him.”

“What now?” Bella looked deflated.

“Gotta get something tangible on
her. You got more to wade through.”

“Got something!” Mack exclaimed as
he barged into the office, passing John on his way out. Mack waved a piece of
paper in his hands.

“Kempner’s deed. The year he
bought it—1984. He paid all cash. That’s the year they closed Dunmore.”

“So the old coot came into money when
the girl disappeared.” Billy slapped his hand on his desk.

“Wouldn’t have been her family’s
money,” Bella pointed out. “Her file shows the few family members she had abandoned
her. But they were dirt poor anyway, practically homeless,” Bella pointed out.

“So someone paid Kempner to sign
her out,” Billy said aloud more to himself than to her.

She could see the wheels turning
in his mind.

“Who wanted her quiet, and forgotten?”
Billy wondered aloud as he exhaled and leaned back in his chair.

His desk was littered with papers,
folders, post-its, and old coffee cups. “Thoughts?” Billy squinted his eyes at both
of them.

Mack shook his head and Bella
looked up at the ceiling.

“Don’t know,” Bella said slowly. “Maybe
Emilie knew a lot more than anyone realized. Someone might not have wanted her
to talk.”

 “She’d be how old by now? In her
forties?” Mack asked.

“Yeah, if she’s alive that is,”
Billy replied. “This thing keeps growing legs.”

“We’ve gotta find out what
happened to her,” Bella said. “She may be our missing link to Weber.”

“I’ll put Mikey back on it. You
two head up to Arlington. Pay Kempner a visit.”