Mind Games (27 page)

“I’m warning you, Dr. Von Langley, keep talking and I’ll pile on another charge. Open. That. Door.”

Dr. Von Langley flipped a switch on the wall and pulled open the door.

“Cuff him,” Tony said to the other police officer.

Behind the door, Sly was sitting on the floor inside a closet no larger than a vertical coffin. Sly braced his hands against the sides of the black walls and pushed himself up. Tony offered him a hand.

“You’re lucky to be alive, Sly. Come on. We’re getting you and Angel out of here.”

“You can’t take him. I finally found siblings to prove my gene theory, and their CT scans will prove it. You’re interfering with science.”

“Really? Like the research you performed on the victims we found buried in your backyard?”

Dr. Von Langley’s spine stiffened. “I want my attorney. You won’t get away this. I’m helping these kids. I’m changing lives. I’m discovering what brain abnormalities in kids turn them into psychopaths.”

“Charming. Coming from one,” Tony said.

The rest of the investigative team swarmed the place, turning each room inside out and bagging evidence. A gloved detective held up a large plastic bag filled with pills for Tony to see. “Look at what we have here: possession of ecstasy. I’d say you’re looking at possession of a Schedule I narcotic. That’ll get you some time,” Tony said with a smile. “And I bet you were Dana’s supplier, and those pills will match his personal supply.”

“Put that down, that’s research,” Dr. Von Langley said between gritted teeth.

Tony replied, “Great. Tell it to the judge.”

“Get me my attorney,” Dr. Von Langley growled.

Tony yanked Dr. Von Langley’s cuffed arms around so they were face to face and spat, “You’re gonna need one—murder, felony drug charges, child pornography, abuse of power.” He curled his lips into a snarl. “Get him out of my sight.”

Derrick checked on Angel. Sly followed him and helped Angel get upright. He glanced over at Sparrow. She stood stoic and watched her father’s life unravel before her eyes. Much like the day Derrick had found her staring fixated at the ocean, he had to pull her away from the scene of the crime. He ushered Sly and Angel toward the elevators, dragging Sparrow with him. Her head craned back, trying to take it all in.

Flashing red and blue lights greeted them outside. An ambulance was waiting, and Derrick insisted Sly and Angel go to the hospital after the nightmare they had both suffered. The vehicle sped away with the kids in it.

“Where’s your mom, Sparrow?”

“She’s at the hospital having a psychological evaluation. She has track marks on her arms from him, and he subjected her to acupuncture treatments.”

“Why?”

“To erase her memory. The police have already contacted Violet Crosby so she can help my mother recover her memories. Derrick…” She paused, unease in her eyes.

“Baby, whatever it is, just say it.”

“When I went out to get your gun, I talked to the forensic team. They found Katie’s remains.” Sparrow broke down into tears. He held her trembling body close to his, wanting to absorb her agony and turmoil. “Derrick, she was wearing the poison ring when she died. It was still around her finger.”

“Let it go, baby. Just let it go. It’s over.”

The arraignment started promptly at eight thirty the following morning. Sparrow and Derrick sat in back of the courtroom. Detective Tony Sargent sat behind the prosecution. The air hung thick with conviction. She reached for Derrick’s hand, surprised his palm felt as clammy as hers. Sun spread across the room from the stained glass windows but failed to lighten her spirit. A cesspool of emotions clouded her brain.

Her mother had been kept overnight at the hospital for observation. Probably for the best, Sparrow thought, watching guards escort her father into the courtroom wearing an orange jumpsuit. Shackles clamped at his ankles. Chains traveled from the shackles around his ankles, up his legs, and around his waist, securing the cuffs bound to his wrists. Sparrow recognized Peter Lister. Their family attorney was at his side.

“All rise.”

The judge entered the courtroom, dispensed with the formalities, and asked, “Counselor, how does your client plead?”

Peter Lister replied, “Not guilty. We’re asking for bail. My client is an outstanding citizen of the Crystal Cove community, and although he’s not a flight risk, he will surrender his passport.”

“Sir,” Assistant District Attorney Belinda Henriquez interjected, “these are serious charges. The law states that a murder charge—”

“Ms. Henriquez, I’m well aware of the charges and the law. Don’t insult me with a law school lesson.”

“My apology, sir.”

“Mr. Lister, bail is denied. Your client is remanded to Our Lady of Sorrow until his trial.”

“This is preposterous. Peter, do something,” Dr. Von Langley demanded.

“Counselor, control your client.”

“Theodore, let me handle this,” Peter said under his breath. “Judge Thaylor, that institution is for the criminally insane.”

“I’m well aware of the facility. Perhaps you should come up with an appropriate defense for your client.”

“I ask that he be held at county until the trial.”

“My ruling is final. Guards, see that Dr. Von Langley is transferred to Our Lady of Sorrow immediately. Court is dismissed.” He slammed down the gavel and exited the courtroom.

Sparrow squeezed Derrick’s hand and whispered, “Now it’s over.”

There was no doubt in her mind that her father would be convicted of the charges brought against him. He and his attorney had been granted time to prepare for trial, but she knew the evidence she’d helped lodge against him was airtight. The blood in the poison ring matched the DNA of Katie’s remains, and Dr. Von Langley’s own research had incriminated him, nicely fitting the evidence left behind by Dana. The forensic team made another grisly discovery of victims in shallow graves. The evidence was overwhelming.

She didn’t want to see her father escorted out of the courtroom. Sparrow put on a brave face then tugged on Derrick’s hand and gestured toward the door. Outside, a throng of reporters and TV cameras greeted them, shoving microphones in their faces and yelling questions. News had spread quickly in less than twenty-fours after Dr. Von Langley’s arrest. Her phone had rung off the hook with requests for interviews. She’d declined, promising that after her father’s trial she would conduct interviews. Right now the fresh wound of his arrest stung too much to recount the story of her tumultuous childhood and the evidence trail she had followed, leading to what inevitably would be her father’s conviction. Time healed all wounds. She smiled at the thought. Justice was served today. She hoped the time her father would serve at Our Lady of Sorrow would be spent well.

12 months later

“Collect call from Our Lady of Sorrow. Will you accept the charges?” Sparrow gently hung up the phone. Since her father’s conviction, a life sentence without the possibility of parole, he had attempted to contact her several times. She had given the staff at Our Lady of Sorrow permission to contact her on behalf of her father, but he was not allowed to have her phone number. For now, all she could give him was hope that someday she would take his call. Forgiveness came slowly, and she hadn’t quite come to terms with what he had put their family through.

She had been warned by the courts, Violet Crosby, and her husband Derrick not to take any of his calls. As a trained psychiatrist specializing in behavioral therapy, even through the phone a chance existed that he could manipulate Sparrow’s mind. His motive for calling her was uncertain, and everyone who cared for her cautioned her not to take his calls. At least he couldn’t reach her mother, who was residing at an undisclosed location with a new name to protect her anonymity. Sparrow’s hand trembled. She clutched the receiver so hard her knuckles had turned white. Of all nights for him to call. She released the phone and shook the emerging thought from her brain. She would not allow him to ruin the special night she had planned for her and Derrick. She twisted her wedding ring on her finger, not sure if she was ready for the next monumental step in her life.

Water foamed and boiled over the strainer, splattering the stovetop. Jamming her hand inside a large oven mitt, she reached for the handle and waited for the water to settle. She wiped the stove and went back to cooking dinner, steaming vegetables and braising veal cutlets. With the food at a calm simmer, she went to the fridge and removed the chilled salad plates, fixing an array of baby green and red lettuces and tiny cherry tomatoes, sprinkling each with Gorgonzola cheese and a light spray of olive oil vinaigrette dressing. She carried the plates into the dining room and set them down on the heavy wood table anchored by large chairs covered in plush fabric. A bottle of sparkling grape juice chilled in an ice bucket in the corner. Her feet sank into the thick wool rug under her feet. She squeezed her toes into the cushy fibers, grabbed the extended lighter, and lit the array of candles in the center of the table. Then she went back into the kitchen to put the meal onto a platter.

The old-world charm of their home soothed her nerves. She paused to take in the expansive kitchen, running her hand along the distressed wood island, admiring the copper pots and pans suspended from the rack overhead. Wrought iron sconces cast a warm glow against the creamy beige walls and reflected off the small paintings and tapestries. Her eyes drifted to the cornucopia above the dark wood kitchen cabinets. She smiled at the large ceramic rooster nesting in the corner. Everything about their new home was a dramatic contrast to the oceanfront property she had lived in and the modern bachelor pad Derrick had occupied.

Their first trip to Italy had been special. A time when they both had struggled with and come to terms with the loss of a loved one, and then, eight months later, they honeymooned in the same location. That was when they decided to buy a new home and fill it with the rustic memories they cherished. She looked at the painting of herbs and bottles filled with oils and the tapestry pieces gracing the walls, fondly remembering the authentic extravagances she and Derrick indulged in while on honeymoon.

“Baby, I’m home,” Derrick sang out.

She loved that at least a few nights a week he made it home for dinner at a normal hour. Her father’s arrest had happened over a year ago, and she still pinched herself to remind her that her life with Derrick was real. She sprinkled seasoning over the vegetables, twisting the top of the pepper grinder they had brought back from Italy.

Some good did come after her father’s immediate and miserable trial, where Sparrow had to testify against him. News had spread quickly about Dr. Derrick Sloan’s Mobile Health Clinic RV, and several doctors stepped up, contributing time and money that allowed Derrick to start two more “Health Clinics on Wheels,” the name given by the press. With donations pouring in, Derrick limited his practice as a concierge doctor. He and Sparrow, with the help of a terrific agent and detailed editor, wrote a book, chronicling Sparrow’s dysfunctional childhood and her father’s unscrupulous treatments. The proceeds funded a philanthropic trust supporting the psychiatric needs for patients of Dr. Theodore Von Langley who had come forward and survived his mind games.

Derrick plucked a tomato from his plate and popped it into his mouth. He pulled the bottle of wine from the ice bucket and did a double take. He went into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Sparrow, sliding his hands up and down her tummy.

“Mmm. That smells delicious. Baby carrots, baby peas, braised veal chops, non-alcoholic wine. Am I sensing a theme here?” he asked, caressing her stomach.

She turned in his arms with tears in her eyes.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d catch on or not.”

“Oh, baby, we’re having a baby?”

She nodded, and the tears hanging from her lids fell down her cheeks.

“I know we said we wouldn’t rush it, but Sparrow, don’t be afraid. You are going to be a terrific mom. You’re nothing like him.”

She sobbed against his broad chest. “Are you happy?”

“Of course I’m happy.” He picked her up and spun her around in a slow circle. “We will make terrific parents.”

“Well, someone in the universe must think so, because we’d taken so many precautions. I was certain I wouldn’t get pregnant until
I
was ready.”

He set her down on her feet. “This is our new beginning. Come on, let’s call your mom and tell her the good news. I still can’t believe she’s an ambassador traveling to all these foreign countries in need. Her life is so fulfilling, but she’s chomping at the bit to be a grandma.”

Sparrow laughed. “Well, she feels like she missed out on my childhood.” She pressed her lips to his in a gentle kiss, and then leaned back against his arms. “You’re right. This really is a new beginning for all of us. It’s our legacy. Yours and mine.”

MJ LaBeff is an American author best described as the girl-next-door with a dark side. She’s drawn to writing suspense novels, featuring complicated characters and twisted plot lines that will keep readers turning page after page. When she’s not writing or plotting her next novel, MJ enjoys reading, running, lifting weights, and volunteering for the American Cancer Society. She lives in southern Arizona with her husband, Jeff, and their three big dogs Buddy, Sammy, and Sampson.