Phantom Limb Read online

  “Indeed,” said Wilson, “the Bureau’s coordinating with every local precinct in the tri-state area. Within an hour, we’ll have suspect profiles and case intel sent to every FBI field office and every police department in the country.”

  “That’s right,” Biegler added. “We’ll find the bastards. Sooner or later. Count on it!”

  I wasn’t about to. After the second ransom was received, the plan had obviously been to kill whoever delivered it. And then kill Lisa. Though their victim had survived, the kidnappers still had their ten million in bearer bonds. Their identities now known, the smartest thing to do was disappear.

  I pointed this out.

  “Given Sykes’ brains and resources, not to mention the money, I bet he and Griffin are onboard some overseas flight as we speak. Probably to a country that doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the U.S.”

  Gloria nodded. “Sounds right to me. I’m just glad Lisa’s safe. For which we all owe Dr. Rinaldi our thanks.”

  “It was just dumb luck,” I said. “I only wish Arthur Drake had made it back as well.”

  For once, neither Biegler nor Wilson had anything to say.

  Then, unexpectedly, Mike Payton turned to me. “That reminds me. I’ve been wondering why you even went along with Drake to make the drop. On the phone, Julian—I mean Sykes—said he had some unfinished business with you. What was that all about?”

  “When Agent Reese and I were his captives, Sykes had some questions about my session with Lisa. I tried to tell him—”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Biegler frowned. “You and your precious confidentiality. Try learning another tune, will ya, Rinaldi?”

  I ignored him. “The point is, Sykes and I were interrupted when he was told about Lisa’s escape. He and his men had to run off to deal with it. I guess he figured we never got to finish our conversation.”

  Which was why, I realized, he’d insisted I accompany Drake with the second ransom delivery. Sykes wanted to press me again about what Lisa may have revealed about the Four Horsemen. No wonder. If the other three men were as high-profile as James Harland—and from what Lisa told me, it sounded like they were—then having their identities exposed would be bad for Sykes’ business, if not his health. These were prominent, powerful men who might go to any lengths to protect themselves. Sykes not only provided them with sex and drugs, and whatever thrills they got from “going ghetto,” he also promised anonymity. He had to find out if Lisa had told me any names. And if so, he couldn’t risk making dangerous enemies in the hope that I’d keep what I knew confidential. To be absolutely sure, he’d have to kill me.

  Which was also why he stopped Griffin when the big man, after shooting Drake, was about to put a bullet in my head, too. Why Sykes frantically blew the van’s horn. He wanted me alive long enough to tell him what he needed to know. After that, I could be safely dispatched. The final loose end severed.

  “I don’t know why you went along with Arthur,” Lisa was saying now, “but I’m glad you did. You saved my life.”

  I just shrugged. But Biegler’s response was more pointed.

  “We’re all glad things turned out okay, Mrs. Harland, but, as civilians, neither Dr. Rinaldi nor Arthur Drake should have been permitted to deliver that ransom without official sanction. It was too dangerous, as Mr. Drake found out to his sorrow.” His stern glare targeted Harry Polk. “Something that Sergeant Polk and I will discuss at another time. For now, there’s work to do.”

  Harry stared back at him, stone-faced.

  “I agree with Lieutenant Biegler.” Wilson stirred. “We have forensics to gather, leads to run down. Suspects to apprehend.”

  “Sir,” Gloria said, “I’ll get the word out to airport security, bus and cab companies. Highway Patrol, too. Though Sykes has probably already ditched the van.”

  “Probably. There’s a lot to coordinate, but this is not the time and place to discuss it.” A forced smile at me. “Besides, according to her therapist, we need to let Lisa rest. But make sure you clear your schedule, Doctor. We’ll be wanting to take your complete statement.”

  “Only after he gives one to us,” Biegler said sharply. “Complete and detailed.”

  I met his gaze. “Now there’s something to look forward to.” He didn’t reply. Instead, he turned back to Harry Polk.

  “Harry, I’ll need you to make the next-of-kin notification to Drake’s family. Whoever they are.”

  Payton spoke up. “He has an ex and two grown daughters. I have their info on file. Numbers, addresses.”

  “Good. That’ll speed things up.”

  With that, the quartet of law enforcement personnel started filing out of the room, Mike Payton on their heels.

  I didn’t follow. Having caught a beseeching look from Lisa, I stayed behind.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  After the door closed, Lisa awkwardly pulled herself up on her elbows. Puzzled, I leaned over the bed rails.

  “Hey, what are you doing? You’re supposed to rest.”

  “I will. But we gotta talk first—and fast. Before that know-it-all doctor comes back. He’s pretty, but a total douche.”

  “Well, you seem to be feeling better. A minute ago, you looked like you were about to pass out.”

  “I just wanted Thing One and Thing Two to leave me alone with you, Doc.”

  “By now, I think you should call me Dan. Or Danny.”

  “Okay, whatever. But take that therapeutic tone out of your voice. I don’t need to talk about my feelings. I need your help in getting my hands on that fucking video.”

  “My help?”

  “Look, I know you’re saying to yourself, ‘Shit, I saved the bitch’s life and now she wants something else from me?’ But you’re the only one I can trust with this.”

  “First of all, I’m not thinking that. I’m your therapist, and I’ll help you any way I can. But as everyone keeps reminding me, I’m not the police.”

  “Which is why you’re the perfect man for the job. The fewer people who know about that video, the better. The problem is, I don’t know where the flash-drive is. Or even who really has it. Sykes or James?”

  I pulled a chair up next to the bed and sat.

  “You know, I was wondering…What if Griffin was lying when he said that Sykes had it, and that all his boss wanted was money? What if it was only a ploy to get you to cooperate? To go with him without a struggle to your car.”

  “Exactly what I was thinking. Especially since nobody—not Sykes, not Griffin—nobody even mentioned the video again once they had me prisoner in the cellar.”

  I considered this. “Of course, Sykes would know about the video. He was there when it was shot. So maybe, when he gets the idea to kidnap you, he decides to pretend he’s somehow gotten it away from James. So he can use the promise of its return to persuade you to go with Griffin.”

  Lisa nodded. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. I can’t see that slime-bag James just handing it over to him.”

  “Nor can I. Unless, like we said before, Sykes made threats on his life. Forced him to hand it over.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

  Lisa eased herself back against her pillow. I could tell she was tiring quickly. For real, this time.

  “On the other hand,” I went on, “I can’t believe Sykes would risk threatening James Harland, one of his best customers, with bodily harm. Not when James is a conduit to some of the city’s most powerful and influential men. No, Lisa. I don’t think Sykes ever had the flash-drive. It was just a ruse.”

  “So James still has it? Hidden somewhere?”

  “I think so. I could be wrong, but…”

  She covered her face with her hands. From the way her shoulders slumped, I could see that another wave of fatigue had washed over her. And another wave of despair.

  “Aw, screw it. I’m finis
hed. There’s nothing to stop James from showing that video at the anniversary party. I can’t even prove he has it. He’d just deny it.”

  Lowering her hands, she gave me a weary smile.

  “Hell, maybe me and Charles will both get lucky. He’ll die here in the hospital, and I’ll get to go home and swallow my pills. Then neither one of us’ll be around for the premiere of James’ little S&M masterpiece. He can show it to whoever the fuck he wants.”

  I smiled back. “You can’t take yourself out yet, Lisa. You promised me a follow-up session, remember? It’s on the books.”

  To my surprise, she gently brought her palm up to my face.

  “Give it a rest, will ya? I mean, you’re a nice guy, and I owe you for getting me away from those evil pricks in the woods. But all you did was delay the inevitable. Once people see that video, I…Understand? Just the thought of it…”

  Her eyes bored into mine.

  “I can’t live with that. I can’t. So I won’t.”

  Letting her hand drop to the bed sheets, she turned her face to the pillow. Voice muffled, tear-choked.

  “Now, please leave me alone…Please? Just…go…”

  I didn’t budge.

  “I’m still your therapist, goddamnit. So like it or not, Lisa, I’m not leaving until we have a contract. Until you promise me you won’t try anything—pills, whatever—promise that you won’t try to hurt yourself without calling me first.”

  She closed her eyes tight.

  “If I promise, will you leave me the fuck alone?”

  “It’s the only way I will leave you alone.”

  “I could always fire your ass. Get another therapist.”

  “True. Though I can’t think of any of my colleagues who’d put up with your shit. So looks like you’re stuck with me.”

  A long beat of silence.

  “I hate you, you know.”

  “I’m devastated. Now, do we have a contract or not?”

  “Yeah, sure. What the hell?…I promise to call you. But just to give you a heads-up. I’m not promising I won’t still do it.” A measured pause. “I’m fucking serious…Danny.”

  “I know you are, Lisa.”

  And I did.

  ***

  When I left Lisa’s room, I found Mike Payton waiting for me at the end of the hallway. For the first time since I’d arrived at the hospital, I took note of his unshaven face and bloodshot eyes. It was obvious he’d had as little sleep as I had.

  He seemed to read my thoughts. As I approached, he gave me a wan smile and said, “We also serve who only stand and wait.”

  “The Harlands are lucky to have you, Mike. No joke.”

  He shook his head. “It should’ve been me out at that drop site with Drake. Not you.”

  Now that I knew about his affair with Lisa, Payton’s guilt about what had happened to her made more sense. As did his frustration at having played no part in rescuing her. He also probably regretted giving Harland a copy of that dossier he’d prepared on me. After promising Lisa he’d keep her request for it a secret. The painful consequences of divided loyalties.

  I leaned my back against the wall next to him. Both of us oblivious to the doctors and nurses bustling up and down the hallway. Finally, I turned and regarded his haggard profile.

  “Lisa’s life was at stake,” I said. “Sykes said it had to be me, or else. We had to play by the kidnappers’ rules.”

  “Yeah, well maybe we shouldn’t have. Drake’s dead anyway, and the bad guys are in the wind. With ten million bucks of Harland’s money. I figure that’s on me, too.”

  I didn’t reply. Merely watched as the security man pulled at his lower lip. A tic I was becoming familiar with.

  “Look, Mike, if you stayed behind to see Lisa, I hope you’ll reconsider. She was half-asleep when I left her.”

  “Then maybe I’ll hold off on telling her.”

  “Telling her what?”

  “I just went up to see Mr. Harland and they told me he was awake and talking. Asking where his wife was.”

  “Does he know she’s been brought back safely?”

  “According to the doctor, he doesn’t even remember she’d been kidnapped. He’s barely lucid. Just keeps calling out for Lisa. Wanting to know where she is.”

  “Sounds like they could both use some more time to rest. Recover. Why don’t we give it to them?”

  “Good idea. The docs’ll probably agree.”

  He turned, held out his hand. “Thanks again for bringing her home, Rinaldi.”

  We shook hands, then he strode down the hallway toward the elevator. Presumably heading up to see his boss again.

  The veteran military man, without a war to fight. Except for the one in his own mind.

  ***

  Thankfully, the new hospital wing boasted an equally new coffee shop. I was halfway out the building’s front entrance when I remembered that my car was still parked at the Harland residence. Which meant I’d have to take a cab there. But not before throwing back a couple cups of strong black coffee. By this point, it was obvious that fatigue was starting to affect my short-term memory. My ability to focus.

  I’d gotten a refill from the girl behind the counter, and was on my way back to my corner table, when Gloria Reese came in. Lifting my cup in greeting, I motioned for her to join me. After getting her own large coffee, she did just that.

  “First, the good news,” she said, without preamble.

  “Always happy to hear good news.”

  “Agent Gloria Reese is still on the case. The brass figures I’ve been in from the start, so I have firsthand knowledge of the facts. The bad news is, I definitely lost some points by getting abducted by Griffin. Taken by gunpoint to Sykes’ spooky sex chamber. During my debriefing, there was a lot of veiled comments about my size, my gender. Pretty much what I expected.”

  I watched her gingerly sip the steaming coffee. Holding the cup with both hands.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Gloria. But at least you’re still in the field.”

  “Yeah. I was worried they’d have me riding a desk for the next three months.”

  “Me, too. Though would you mind answering a question?”

  Gloria took a quick, guarded look around the room. Then, voice lowered: “You want to know if I told them everything that happened at the print factory. With Max Griffin and his knife. What he did…or was about to do…”

  “Well?”

  “In a word, no. And for a very simple reason—which, as a psychologist, you should already know. Because I’m not crazy. The last thing I’d do is give those condescending jerks an excuse to put me on psych leave. Believe me, no agent’s career ever survives that. No matter what they tell you.”

  “Okay, so you’re not crazy. But you still had a traumatic experience. I ought to know, I was there. Hell, it was pretty traumatic for me, even though I didn’t go through anything like what you endured.”

  “Meaning what? I should see a shrink?”

  “Meaning, you should get some help. From someone outside the Bureau. I can give you some names.”

  “Thanks but no thanks. Small but mighty, remember?”

  She gave me a wink. I sipped my coffee.

  I also thought about Charlene’s brother Skip. Only the day before, I’d suggested to him that he seek counseling. At least he’d been willing to let me write down some names and numbers. Although I doubted whether he’d ever look at them again.

  Which suddenly made me feel like some kind of cliché. The psychologist who hears about a friend or colleague’s troubles and automatically suggests therapy. As if by rote. As though it was the only option available to help ease someone’s pain, help them make sense of their conflicted feelings.

  Yet, for so many people, it is the right choice. As a therapist—as well as a patient—I see the pro
of of it every day. The right clinical treatment can offer solace, perspective. It provides tools to help navigate an inner world of confusion or torment. Sometimes it even saves lives.

  It sure as hell saved mine.

  Gloria must have seen the slightly abashed look on my face. Reached out her hand to touch my wrist.

  “Hey, I appreciate the advice. But it’s just not for me. No offense, okay?”

  “None taken.”

  As if by mutual though unspoken agreement, the conversation turned to the kidnapping case.

  “I just heard they found the van,” Gloria was saying. “The one you and I were in the night Griffin grabbed us.”

  “It was also parked in that field where Drake and I went to deliver the second ransom. I think Sykes was behind the wheel, but I can’t be sure. The lights were so bright, all I could see was a skinny guy smoking a cigarette.”

  “Frankly, I don’t know if we’ll ever get our hands on him and Griffin.” Gloria tasted more of her coffee. “They have a big head-start and lots of money. Like you said back there, by now they could be anywhere.”

  “Besides, after the explosion at the factory, I guess Sykes is out of the VIP sex-club business. Probably finished with his human trafficking operation, too. But I doubt he’s crying about it. Ten million dollars makes a helluva golden parachute.”

  “He may be in the wind, but that doesn’t mean his operation can’t keep going. Run by trusted lieutenants, with whom he can communicate from anywhere in the world. That’s why the Bureau is keeping tabs on all his known associates, particularly those connected to the trafficking. Phone taps, email tracking. In case Sykes tries to get in touch with them, or they with him.”

  “But why risk it? Why not just enjoy his retirement?”

  “Look, Sykes may be on a beach somewhere, drinking piña coladas, but that doesn’t mean the people in his organization want to shut down the money train. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if there’s some kind of coup—one of the lieutenants taking over the whole thing. Permanently. With Sykes a wanted man, afraid we’d grab him the minute he showed his face, it wouldn’t be that hard to do. Crime is like any other business. When the boss vacates, somebody has to take over the corner office.”