Shame ON You Page 13

“I’m not sure why you think I can help you.” He sounded like one of those voice computers.

  I pushed forward. “As Chantel was leaving her grandmother’s, she said a few things under her breath, as if she were speaking to herself. She mentioned ghosts, this hospital, and cemeteries.”

  His ears twitched ever so slightly, although he remained straight-faced. “I’m sure there are lots of folk stories about ghosts in this old place.” He finally moved his neck and was scanning the ceiling as if he’d just spotted a Michelangelo painting.

  Ivy inched forward in her seat. “Doctor, she’s twenty-three years old, but she has a history of drug abuse on top of an assortment of mental illnesses.”

  He nodded. “The two often go hand in hand. It’s a difficult cycle to break.”

  “Have you broken the cycle?” Ivy asked.

  He suddenly brought his eyes down and stared at Ivy.

  She added, “I mean, you know, with any of your patients?”

  “More than my fair share, I’ll tell you that. It began to wear on me, to be honest. Those who meet with patients day in and day out, they are the true heroes in this field. Hearts of gold, that’s what they have. Those are the people for whom I have the utmost respect.”

  He steepled his fingers. His level of comfort seemed to have increased, which, in turn, made him more verbose.

  Ivy brought her phone up to his eye level again. “Are you sure her face doesn’t look familiar?”

  He shrugged and shook his head. “I’m good at remembering faces. There’s nothing about her that seems remotely familiar to me. Sorry.”

  “Perhaps someone from your staff might have spoken to her. Would you mind if we spoke to each of them?”

  He shifted in his chair. “They really can’t be disturbed. This isn’t a normal hospital—I hope you know that.”

  “I wasn’t implying your hospital—”

  He raised a hand. “No apologies necessary.”

  I could see he was tired of this conversation, or maybe just of us.

  He let loose a long, dramatic sigh and said, “Okay, why don’t you text me that picture and include her name. What did you say her name was?”

  “Chantel Gibson,” Ivy said.

  He pulled out his phone and gave Ivy his number. His phone dinged a moment later, and then he slipped it into his pocket. “I’m extremely busy at the moment. Need to work on a presentation for the board. But after that, I’ll get Elena to send out a memo to the staff with this girl’s picture and name. If anything pops up, I’ll be in touch.” He placed his palms against the desk, pushed back his chair, and stood.

  But Ivy wasn’t done. As she and I rose from our chairs, she said, “To quicken the process, I can just work with Elena to help her with the memo.”

  “Elena can be a bit…” He leaned forward and softened his voice. “Difficult. I know how to best deal with her and all of her…issues.”

  We nodded. I stuck a hand in my pocket as I circled around my chair.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” I said, pulling the muddy do-rag out of my pocket. “We found this over at the cemetery.”

  He stopped and stared at it like it was a prized jewel.

  “Any idea why we’d find this at the cemetery?”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “A college campus is two miles away. Kids these days will do anything to bring a little excitement into their mundane lives.”

  “So you think this was left by a college student?”

  He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know who else it could be.”

  “Oh, well, we were thinking that you recently buried a patient out there. We saw what looked a fresh gravesite and a shovel. And then, under some of the mud, we found the bandana.”

  Dr. Patterson’s face lost what little color it had. “That’s odd,” he said. “I don’t recall us having a funeral recently. I’ll have to check with Elena.” He reached for the bandana. “Let me take that and see what we can find out.”

  I pulled back just before his fingers touched it. “The family should look at this and see if it’s familiar.”

  He put a hand to his chest. “So you think this missing girl was digging through a cemetery? Why on earth would she be doing that?”

  “Well, that’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

  He gave us a stiff nod, this one with his lips tightly pressed together.

  Ivy said she’d look forward to hearing back from him after Chantel’s picture was sent to his staff. He ushered us to the front door, and then he stood and looked out the window as we got into my battered Cadillac.

  I punched the button to turn on the engine and asked, “Are you going to call Brook, or am I?”

  Patterson had given us both an uneasy feeling. Whether he was a true suspect was hard to say, but, unlike Melvin, we weren’t about to let this one get away.

  27

  I rounded the corner and walked into the area of detective desks with an open bag of pretzels. With a pretzel halfway in my mouth, I stopped for a second. Ivy was leaning on Brook’s desk. She looked like a bull about to make its final charge. I hoofed it over to the desk just in time to hear Ivy say, “This is total bullshit, Brook, and you know it.”

  Ivy’s nostrils flared, her face flush with anger.

  Brook gave me the eye, moved a pile of manila folders to the edge of her desk, and then finally addressed Ivy in a calm fashion. “I’m sorry you don’t see it, Ivy. I think, in this case, you’re too close to the family. You’ve forgotten everything you’ve learned about how law enforcement works.”

  I clenched my jaw. I knew that would only set off Ivy even more.

  “I haven’t forgotten what it’s like to be treated like a second-class citizen, like I didn’t exist at all. Chantel is in the same situation.”

  Brook clasped her hands under her chin and maintained her elementary-schoolteacher composure. “You know I have empathy for what you experienced, Ivy. But you’re getting too emotional. You have no proof this doctor has anything to do with Chantel’s disappearance.”

  Spit gathered at the edge of Ivy’s lips. She was about to blow. Just then, Porter walked by, slowing down for a second as he eyed us. Fortunately, his cell phone rang. He answered it and scooted away, although he continued to glance at us over his shoulder.

  “We need to take this discussion into another room.” Brook lifted to her feet and walked down the hall. Her arms swung; her boot heels clipped the floors. She found an open interview room. When she closed the door behind us, she turned to Ivy. “I have a job…” She glanced at the door. “Well, at least I do for the time being. Will you please do me the courtesy of speaking to me with a little bit of respect? I already get reamed by Prickhead on a daily basis.”

  Ivy stuck out her jaw and looked at me, although it didn’t seem like she was actually looking at me. A few seconds passed. Maybe Ivy was counting to ten.

  I finally broke the silence. “Anyone want a pretzel?”

  “No!” they said in tandem and then began glaring at each other again. The stare-off lasted a couple of seconds…until they both broke out in laughter at the exact same time.

  “Did I miss an inside joke?”

  More laughter. They tried to speak, but they couldn’t get words out. I ate a pretzel and leaned my butt on the back of a thick metal chair.

  “Oh my, that’s the greatest stress reliever I’ve had in…” Brook looked at her stylish watch; then she shook her head and began to chuckle again.

  “What’s so funny?” Ivy asked, a smile still plastered on her face.

  “I just realized I haven’t had sex since my divorce last year.” She burst into another round of laughter, and Ivy followed suit. This time, I chuckled as well.

  “Hold on…” Ivy said, still trying to contain her laughter. “You haven’t had sex since your divorce or the day you separated?”

  Brook brought a hand to her mouth, her eyes momentarily diverted. She either had switched her thoughts or was debating whether to shar
e something with us. “Oh, why the hell not.” She raked her fingers through her hair. “The day my ex and I met at the courthouse with our two lawyers to sign the papers, we started playing footsy with each other under the table.”

  “Footsy?” Ivy said, squinting her eyes.

  “You see, I’d been drinking since lunchtime. I was pretty much schnockered. I began to run my foot up his thigh, and…” Brook cracked up before she finished her thought.

  With wide eyes, Ivy shook her head in disbelief. I figured she’d heard everything. Apparently not. “What are you trying to say, Brook?”

  “Well…” She snorted out another laugh, and Ivy and I joined in again—laughter can definitely be contagious. I just had no idea why I was laughing.

  Another minute passed before Brook regained control.

  “I’m not proud of this,” she said, giggling the entire time. “But right when the lawyers said we could sign the papers, my ex asked if we could have fifteen minutes to talk a few things out. He called them personal things. The moment the lawyers shut the door, we went after each other like a couple of dogs in heat.”

  “You did what?” Ivy’s jaw was almost on the floor.

  “Yep. We did it right there on the table.” Brook put her hands on her hips. “It was the best damn thing he ever gave me.”

  Now, that’s funny. While we were doubled over laughing, Ivy nudged me and caught my gaze. She waggled her eyebrows as she gestured her head toward Brook, who was wiping her eyes. I knew what Ivy was trying to imply—that I should be Brook’s next stud. Of course, she was wrong on many levels. So very wrong. I gave her a stern look, and she did the “I’m zipping it” thing. But not before sticking her tongue out at me.

  She was like the pesky little sister.

  It was time to get us back on task. “So, Brook, I realize your hands are tied, but I think you should know that I feel the same way Ivy does about Dr. Patterson.”

  “Which is exactly what? A creepy vibe? I think that’s the term Ivy used.”

  “I realize you can’t go to Captain Prick and say we need to bring this guy in for questioning because he has a creepy vibe, but something is off with this guy.”

  She crossed her arms. “I’m listening.”

  I walked her through the entire meeting—his initial irritation of seeing mud on his carpet, how he exuded a high level of anxiety, and then, after Ivy showed him the picture of Chantel, how he suddenly became aloof. And finally, at the end, how he glared at the bandana, even tried to take it from my hand.

  She nodded and snatched a pretzel from the bag. “I can see where you’re coming from. The guy sounds odd.”

  “You have to admit, Brook, it crosses the line of ‘odd’ and goes into the area of ‘suspicious.’”

  “I’ll grant you that, but ‘suspicious activity’ is a very gray area. So, it would be our job to make it black or white.”

  Ivy huffed out a sigh and plopped back against the chair. “So, I guess you’re saying you’re not going to get a search warrant for his car, his home, his office, and bring him in for formal questioning.” Irritation had creeped back into her tone.

  “You’re right—I’m not.”

  Frowning, Ivy crossed her arms.

  “Listen, if I could make my own rules, I’d be leading the charge. But at the same time, you really don’t have a great deal of information here. If we secured search warrants for every person who acted awkwardly in these types of situations, we’d have to hire another thousand judges, not to mention another thousand detectives to chase the leads, do the questioning.”

  Now Ivy crossed her legs, shaking one foot rapidly. I had to find a middle ground here.

  “So, it seems like we’re all thinking the same basic thing,” I said. “Ivy, you and I need to track the good doctor. He might take us right to her.”

  “Okay. That’s well and fine. But that also takes time. Every day that goes by, I wonder if we’re a day too late. Is Chantel going to be found with one of Cobb’s knives stuck in her gut? Or is she going to OD in some abandoned building?”

  The door opened, and Porter leaned in. “You two,” he said, pointing to me and Ivy, “are in deep shit.”

  “Why us?” I asked. I wasn’t a fan of being accused of anything.

  He tapped a finger to his opposite hand. “Harassment, trespassing, theft…”

  Ivy’s palms smacked the table. “What the fuck is this?”

  We all turned our heads. The unfiltered Ivy had returned.

  Brook went in for the rescue. “Sir, Ivy is just frustrated. You know she and Ozzie are desperately searching for this missing girl. They were able to learn she was seen about a week ago. But she’s got major issues…a long history of mental illness, drug addiction—”

  He raised a hand, and Brook went mute.

  “I was like you at your age,” he said, shaking a finger at Ivy. “Said whatever came to mind. Real ballsy, if you know what I mean.”

  We all nodded.

  “But there came a time when I realized I had to assess who was with me or against me. If they were even remotely on the good side, then I had to figure out a way to not piss them off. Know what I’m saying?”

  More nods.

  “So, to fill you in a bit, I just received a call from someone’s lawyer. A very powerful lawyer whose client list includes the state’s power brokers. He reminded me of this a half-dozen times. He said that I either get you guys to back off and return what you stole, or as he said, ‘I’m going to sue your department and each of you personally, including those two pissant PIs, until your rectum is shoved up your throat.’ Didn’t make much sense to me, but that’s what he said.”

  We didn’t nod. I swallowed, but it felt a little weird, considering what he’d just said. I was shocked that Porter had, up to this point, maintained his composure.

  “I told him that once I found you, I would personally pass along the message, but I also said that the pissants don’t work for me and that I don’t even have them in my phone contact list. But I said I’d do my best to relay the message within the next twenty-four hours.”

  “And?” Brook asked.

  “That seemed to satisfy the prick.” He grimaced, but it could have been a smile. Hard to tell with that guy. It was apparent he wasn’t aware of the “Prick” moniker belonging to himself. I didn’t feel it was in our best interest to point out any copyright infringement.

  “So, we’re shut down,” Ivy said, two hands at her head.

  Porter looked up at the ceiling, turned around a few times. “Brook, did you hear something?” He stuck a finger in his ear and wiggled it.

  Gross.

  Brook looked at Ivy and me, and then back to the captain. “Just you and I having a conversation. I’ll take what you said under consideration, after I get to my twenty other cases.”

  I got out of my chair and signaled for Ivy to follow me. We padded toward the door and slid by Porter. “Twenty-four hours,” he said, just as my ear passed his head.

  That was all I needed to hear. As I left the police station, I was thinking we might have to change his nickname.

  28

  The first thing I did when we walked outside the police station was call Tito and ask how Mackenzie was doing.

  “Yo, Oz, she’s killing it with this painting,” he said. “I’m watching something so real come to life right before my very eyes.”

  I thought I heard another adult voice in the background. “Who’s that?”

  “Ah, it’s Luella. In her own way, she agreed with my assessment of Mac’s talent.”

  “Mackenzie.”

  “Right, Mackenzie.”

  “And I know about her painting skills, Tito, but I’m more interested in how she’s really doing. You know, after last night…if she’d been overly anxious, or talking about what happened to me, or if she’s afraid that the man will come back to hurt her or any of us.”

  I looked across the hood of my Cadillac to Ivy. She had her head buried in her phone.<
br />
  “It’s all cool,” Tito said.

  “That’s a brief answer. I’m a worried dad. Can you give me a little more?”

  “I heard everything you told me this morning when you dropped her off. I even gave Luella the scoop when she showed up. And, strange as it might sound, Mackenzie is the same girl today as she was yesterday. Chatty at times, but about small stuff, and then she gets silent when she’s really zoned in. But nothing alarming at all. No questions about last night. No fear that I’ve seen. She’s just chilling and painting.”

  Tito’s influence had been a Godsend for Mackenzie from day one. By myself, I would have never been able to cultivate that creative mind of hers like Tito had.

  I asked him to let me know when she was ready to be picked up, and we ended our call.

  “I’m hungry,” Ivy said the moment we shut the car doors.

  I knew just the place to take her. Fifteen minutes later, she was sinking her teeth into a bite of brisket at Franklin’s, the best barbecue in Austin, if not the state.

  “Are you moaning and groaning?” I asked, slightly leaning over the table toward her.

  “No, I think your brain is picking up the signal from Brook.” She feigned a smile, albeit one covered with barbecue sauce.

  I pointed at my mouth, a signal that her mouth was a mess. She simply smiled and had another bite.

  “Sorry if I’m grossing you out. I don’t get hungry like this very often. So, when it hit, I had to say something.”

  I didn’t fight it. I had a couple bites of my brisket and baked beans. Then I sat back, drank my Diet Coke, and thought about our next steps.

  “You’re thinking what I’m thinking, aren’t you?” she said, sipping her own soft drink.

  “Time for a stakeout.”

  She nodded.

  I looked at the time on my phone. “The good doctor may not be at work much longer, so I think we need to head east and find a nice secluded place near the Austin State Hospital and wait for the doctor to leave. And then stick with him until he hopefully gives us some solid evidence we can pass along to Brook.”

  “You left out one key step.”