The Naked Face (4 page)

Burke's eyes lit up. 'By God, you're right,' he said. 'So that's their plan! Well, we're too clever for them, aren't we?'

Outside, Judd heard the sound of the reception room door open and close. He looked at his watch. His next patient was here. Judd quietly snapped off the tape recorder. 'I think that's enough for today,' he said. 'You got all this down on the tape recorder?' Burke asked eagerly. 'Every word,' Judd said. 'No one's going to hurt you.' He hesitated. 'I don't think you should go to the office today. Why don't you go home and get some rest?' 'I can't,' Burke whispered, his voice filled with despair. 'If I'm not in my office, they'll take my name off the door and put someone else's name on it.' He leaned towards Judd. 'Be careful. If they know you're my friend, they'll try to get you, too.' Burke walked over to the door leading to the corridor. He opened it a crack and peered up and down the corridor. Then he swiftly sidled out. Judd looked after Mm, his mind filled with the pain of what he would have to do to Harrison Burke's life. Perhaps if Burke had come to him six months earlier... And then a sudden thought sent a chill through him. Was Harrison Burke already a murderer? Was it possible that he had been involved in the deaths of John Hanson and Carol Roberts? Both Burke and Hanson were patients. And they could have easily met. Several times in the past few months Burke's appointments had followed Hanson's. And Burke had been late more than once. He could have run into Hanson in the corridor. And seeing him several rimes could easily have triggered his paranoia, made him feel that Hanson was following him, threatening him. As for Carol, Burke had seen her every time he came to the office. Had his sick mind conceived some menace from her that could only be removed by her death? How long had Burke really been mentally ill? His wife and three children had died in an accidental fire. Accidental? Somehow, he had to find out. He went to the door leading to the reception office and opened it. 'Come in,' he said. Anne Blake rose gracefully to her feet and moved towards him, a warm smile lighting her face. Judd felt again the same heart-turning feeling that had hit him when he had first seen her. It was the first time that he had felt any deep emotional response towards any woman since Elizabeth. In no way did they look alike. Elizabeth had been blonde and small and blue-eyed. Anne Blake had black hah- and unbelievable violet eyes framed by long, dark lashes. She was tall, with a lovely, full-curved figure. She had an air of lively intelligence and a classic, patrician beauty that would have made her seem inaccessible, except for the warmth in her eyes. Her voice was low and soft, with a faint, husky quality. Anne was in her middle twenties. She was, without question, the most beautiful woman Judd had ever seen. But it was something beyond her beauty that caught at Judd. There was an almost palpable force that pulled him to her, some unexplainable reaction that made him feel as though he had known her for ever. Feelings that he had thought long since dead had suddenly surfaced again, surprising him by their intensity. She had appeared in Judd's office three weeks earlier, without an appointment. Carol had explained that his schedule was full and he could not possibly take on any new patients. But Anne had quietly asked if she could wait She had sat in the outer office for two hours, and Carol had finally taken pity on her and brought her in to Judd. He had felt such an instant powerful emotional reaction to Anne that he had no idea what she said during the first few minutes. He remembered he had asked her to sit down and she had told him her name, Anne Blake. She was a housewife. Judd had asked her what her problem was. She had hesitated and said that she was not certain. She was not even sure she had a problem. A doctor friend of hers had mentioned that Judd was one of the most brilliant analysts in the country, but when Judd had asked who the doctor was, Anne had demurred. For all Judd knew, she could have got his name out of the telephone directory. He had tried to explain to her how impossible his schedule was, that he simply was unable to take on any new patients. He offered to recommend half a dozen good analysts. But Anne had quietly insisted that she wanted him to treat her. In the end Judd had agreed. Outwardly, except for the fact that she appeared to be under some stress, she seemed perfectly normal, and he was certain that her problem would be a relatively simple one, easily solved. He broke his rule about not taking any patient without another doctor's recommendation, and he gave up his lunch hour in order to treat Anne. She had appeared twice a week for the past three weeks, and Judd knew very little more about her than he had known when she first came in. He knew something more about himself. He was in love - for the first time since Elizabeth. At their first session, Judd had asked her if she loved her husband, and hated himself for wanting to hear her say that she did not. But she had said, 'Yes. He's a kind man, and very strong.' 'Do you think he represents a father figure?' Judd had asked. Anne had turned her incredible violet eyes on him. 'No. I wasn't looking for a father figure. I had a very happy home life as a child.' “Where were you born?' 'In Revere, a small town near Boston.' 'Are both your parents still alive?' 'Father is alive. Mother died of a stroke when I was twelve.' 'Did your father and mother have a good relationship?' 'Yes. They were very much in love.' It shows in you, thought Judd happily. With all the sickness and aberration and misery that he had seen, having Anne here was like a breath of April freshness. 'Any brothers or sisters?' 'No. I was an only child. A spoiled brat.' She smiled up at him. It was an open, friendly smile without guile or affectation. She told him that she had lived abroad with her father, who was serving in the State Department, and when he had remarried and moved to California, she had gone to work at the UN as an interpreter. She spoke fluent French, Italian, and Spanish. She had met her future husband in the Bahamas when she was on vacation. He owned a construction firm. Anne had not been attracted to him at first, but he had been a persistent and persuasive suitor. Two months after they met, Anne had married him. She had now been married for six months. They lived on an estate in New Jersey. And that was all Judd had been able to find out about her in half a dozen visits. He still had not the slightest clue as to what her problem was. She had an emotional block about discussing it He remembered some of the questions be had asked her during their first session. 'Does your problem involve your husband, Mrs. Blake?' No answer. 'Are you and your husband compatible, physically?' 'Yes.' Embarrassed. 'Do you suspect him of having an affair with another woman?' 'No.' Amused. 'Are you having an affair with another man?* 'No.' Angry. He hesitated, trying to figure out the best approach to take to break down the barrier. He decided on a buckshot technique: he would touch on every major category until he struck a nerve. 'Do you quarrel about money?' 'No. He's very generous.' 'Any in-law problems?' 'He's an orphan. My father lives in California.' ”Were you or your husband ever addicted to drugs?' 'No.' 'Do you suspect your husband of being homosexual?' A low, warm laugh. 'No.' He pressed on, because he had to. 'Have you ever had a sexual relationship with a woman?' 'No.' Reproachful. He had touched on alcoholism, frigidity, a pregnancy she was afraid to face - everything he could think of. And each time she had looked at him with her thoughtful, intelligent eyes and had merely shaken her head. Whenever he tried to pin her down, she would head him off with, 'Please be patient with me. Let me do it my own way.' With anyone else, he might have given up. But he knew that he had to help her. And he had to keep seeing her. He had let her talk about any subject she chose. She had travelled to a dozen countries with her father and had met fascinating people. She had a quick mind and an unexpected humour. He found that diey liked the same books, the same music, the same playwrights. She was warm and friendly, but Judd could never detect the slightest sign that she reacted to him as anything other than a doctor. It was bitter irony. He had been subconsciously searching for someone like Anne for years, and now that she had walked into his life, his job was to help her solve whatever her problem was and send her back to her husband. Now, as Anne walked into the office, Judd moved to the chair next to the couch and waited for her to lie down. 'Not today,' she said quietly. 'I just came to see if I could help.' He stared at her, speechless for a moment. His emotions had been stretched so tight in the past two days that her unexpected sympathy unnerved him. As he looked at her, he had a wild impulse to pour out everything that was happening to him. To tell her about the nightmare that was engulfing him, about McGreavy and his idiotic suspicions. But he knew he could not. He was the doctor and she was his patient Worse than that. He was in love with her, and she was the untouchable wife of a man he did not even know. She was standing there, watching him. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. 'I liked Carol so much,' said Anne. 'Why would anyone kill her?' 'I don't know,' said Judd. 'Don't the police have any idea who did it?' Do they? Judd thought bitterly. If she only knew. Anne was looking at him curiously. 'The police have some theories,' Judd said. 'I know how terrible you must feel. I just wanted to come and tell you how very sorry I am. I wasn't even sure you'd be in the office today.' 'I wasn't going to come in,' Judd said. 'But - well, here I am. As long as we're both here, why don't we talk a little about you?' Anne hesitated. 'I'm not sure that there's anything to talk about any more.' Judd felt his heart jump. Please, God, don't let her say that I'm not going to see her any more. 'I'm going to Europe with my husband next week.' 'That's wonderful,' he made himself say. 'I'm afraid I've wasted your time, Dr. Stevens, and I apologize.' 'Please don't,' Judd said. He found that his voice was husky. She was walking out on him. But of course she couldn't know that He was being infantile. His mind told him this clinically while his stomach ached with the physical hurt of her going away. For ever. She opened her purse and took out some money. She was in the habit of paying in cash after each visit, unlike his other patients, who sent him cheques. 'No,' said Judd quickly. “You came here as a friend. I'm - grateful.' Judd did something he had never done before with a patient. 'I would like you to come back once more,' he said. She looked up at him quietly. 'Why?' Because I can't bear to let you go so soon, he thought. Because I'll never meet anyone like you again. Because 1 wish I had met you first. Because I love you. Aloud he said, 'I thought we might - round things out. Talk a little to make sure that you really are over your problem.' She smiled mischievously. 'You mean you want me to come back for my graduation?' 'Something like that,' he said. ”Will you do it?' 'If you want me to - of course.' She rose. 'I haven't given you a chance with me. But I know you're a wonderful doctor. If I should ever need help, I'd come to you.' She held out her hand and he took it She had a warm, firm handclasp. He felt again that compelling current that ran between diem and marvelled that she felt nothing. 'I'll see you Friday,' she said. 'Friday.' He watched her walk out the private door leading to the corridor, then sank into a chair. He had never felt so completely alone in his life. But he couldn't sit here and do nothing. There had to be an answer, and if McGreavy wasn't going to find it, he had to discover it before McGreavy destroyed hint. On the dark side, Lieutenant McGreavy suspected him of two murders that he couldn't prove he did not commit. He might be arrested at any moment, which would mean that his professional life would be destroyed. He was in love with a married woman he would only see once more. He forced himself to turn to the bright side. He couldn't think of a single bloody thing,

The rest of the day went by as though he were under water. A few of the patients made reference to Carol's murder, but the more disturbed ones were so self-absorbed that they could only think of themselves and their problems. Judd tried to concentrate, but bis thoughts kept drifting away, trying to find answers to what had happened. He would go over the tapes later to pick up what he had missed. At seven o'clock, when Judd had ushered out the last patient, he went over to the recessed liquor cabinet and poured himself a stiff scotch. It hit him with a jolt, and he suddenly remembered that he had not had any breakfast or lunch. The thought of food made him ill. He sank into a chair and thought about the two murders. There was nothing in the case histories of any of his patients that would cause someone to commit murder. A blackmailer might have tried to steal them. But blackmailers were cowards, preying on the weaknesses of others, and if Carol had caught one breaking hi and he had killed her, it would have been done quickly, with a single blow. He would not have tortured her. There had to be some other explanation. Judd sat there a long time, his mind slowly sifting the events of the past two days. Finally he sighed and gave it up. He looked at the clock and was startled to see how late it was. By the time he left Ms office, it was after nine o'clock. As he stepped out of the lobby into the street, a blast of icy wind hit him. It had started to snow again. The snow swirled through the sky, gently blurring everything so that it looked as though the city had been painted on a canvas that had not dried and the paints were running, melting down skyscrapers and streets into watery greys and whites. A large red-and-white sign in a store window across the street on Lexington Avenue warned: ONLY 6 SHOPPING DAYS 'TIL CHRISTMAS Christmas. He resolutely turned bis thoughts away from it and started to walk. The street was deserted except for a lone pedestrian in the distance, hurrying home to his wife or sweetheart. Judd found himself wondering what Anne was doing. She was probably at home with her husband, discussing his day at the office, interested, caring. Or they had gone to bed, and ... Stop it! he told himself. There were no cars on the windswept street, so just before he reached the corner, Judd began to cross at an angle, heading towards the garage where he parked his car during the day. As he reached the middle of the street, he heard a noise behind him, and turned. A large black limousine without lights was coming towards him, its tyres fighting for traction in the light powder of snow. It was less than ten feet away. The drunken fool, thought Judd. He's in a skid and he's going to kill himself. Judd turned and leaped back towards die kerb and safety. The nose of the car swerved towards him, the car accelerating. Too late Judd realized the car was deliberately trying to run him down. The last thing he remembered was something hard smashing against his chest, and a loud crash that sounded like thunder. The dark street suddenly lit up with bright Roman candles that seemed to explode in his head. In that split second of illumination, Judd suddenly knew the answer to everything. He knew why John Hanson and Carol Roberts had been murdered. He felt a sense of wild elation. He had to tell McGreavy. Then the light faded, and there was only the silence of the wet darkness.