by CJ Lyons
"I can't, she's won," Cassie whispered, squeezing her eyes tighter, hoping to drown out the voice inside her. Her father's voice. His final words, I need you to be strong, Cassie. "I can't save anyone, not even myself."
"Excuse me, what did you say?" a woman's voice sliced through Cassie's soliloquy.
Cassie bolted upright. Janet Kwon smiled down at her. The detective had the same slight build, dark hair and eyes as Cassie, but there the resemblance ended. Cassie rarely smiled, but when she did it was with her entire face.
Kwon often smiled, the grin of a predator homing in on the kill, and never with her eyes. She sat a cup of coffee in front of Cassie and took the other chair.
"Dr. Hart," she said in a pleasant voice sharp as a rapier, "it's been a while."
Cassie held the coffee to occupy her hands, she knew better than to drink the battery acid-flavored beverage. Best save it to dissolve the metal rings if it came to that.
"Detective Kwon." Cassie held the woman's gaze without flinching. Kwon was the detective who had almost arrested Cassie for attempted murder after Richard's overdose. "If you don't mind, could I give my statement to someone else? Detective Dolan, perhaps?"
Kwon made a clicking noise with her teeth, a sound that Cassie took as sympathy. "So sorry, but Detective Dolan is out executing a search warrant." She smiled again. "In fact, I doubt he even knows you're here. And unless he was in Antwan Washington's room tonight, I don't think he'll be able to help you much."
Cassie sighed. Might as well get down to it. "There's this woman, Virginia Ulrich–"
"I've heard all about your dealings with the Ulrich family, Dr. Hart. I've just gotten back from Three Rivers."
"Then you know she's tried to kill her own son and there's a good chance she was responsible for Antwan's poisoning."
Kwon's eyes flicked over to the one-way mirror. Cassie had the sudden thought that she was playing right into their hands. Maybe a lawyer wasn't such a bad idea after all. But she hadn't done anything wrong.
"Has anyone read you your rights, Dr. Hart?" Kwon asked as if commenting on the weather.
"No."
"It's just a formality, but before we proceed, let's go over them." Kwon slid a piece of paper that outlined the Miranda rights in plain language across to Cassie. "I'm sure you remember them from the last time we talked." Again with the smile. "Now then, you have the right to remain silent. But I think you want to tell us about Virginia Ulrich and everything that has happened tonight. Of course what you say will be on the record and could be used against you in a court of law if you've done anything wrong. You haven't done anything wrong, have you Dr. Hart?"
"No, of course not," Cassie blurted out, feeling more like a criminal than ever.
"Then, I guess you don't need an attorney either. But if you do, one can be appointed to you without cost. Do you understand all these rights?"
"Yes."
"All right then, please initial each one and sign there at the bottom." Kwon took a felt tip pen from her jacket pocket and handed it to her. Cassie scrawled her initials and name where indicated.
She knew that most criminals made the mistake of waiving their rights and talking too much, but she hadn't done anything. There was no way she was going to get an attorney involved with this–he'd just tell her to say nothing and this whole thing could drag on forever. Which was exactly what Virginia Ulrich wanted.
Outsmarted by a devious woman who had barely finished high school. She was certain Virginia Ulrich was loving every moment of her victory.
"What can you tell me about what happened tonight to Antwan Washington?" Kwon got right to the heart of the matter.
"Someone poisoned him."
"Someone? Do you have any idea who?"
"I suspect Virginia Ulrich," Cassie sounded bitter, but she didn't care.
"Virginia Ulrich wasn't seen in Antwan's room before he had the seizure, Dr. Hart. You were. Care to tell me how you came to be there?"
"I was in the surgical ICU with Muriel Drake–"
"Detective Drake's family told me that they had specifically requested that you stay away from his mother during her recovery."
"Drake asked me to stay with her. He was afraid Virginia might hurt her after he took Charlie into protective custody this morning."
"This morning before you were suspended because of suspected drug use?" Kwon asked, her smile making it clear that she knew everything that had happened behind the closed doors of the confidential Executive Committee meeting.
"I haven't been officially suspended, not yet," Cassie protested. Kwon merely arched an eyebrow and nodded. "Anyway, I was at Muriel's bedside when the clerk told me someone in the Pediatric ICU had requested that I go there. She said it was about my patient, Antwan Washington."
"The Pediatric ICU is just down the hall from the Surgical ICU?"
"Yes."
"And do you know who the message came from?"
"The clerk didn't say. She barely got Antwan's name right."
"And Antwan Washington, he was your patient?"
Cassie was suddenly reminded of the old attorney adage: never ask a question that you don't already know the answer to. She had the feeling that Kwon knew all the answers already–at least the answers that Kwon wanted.
"He was."
"Was?"
"I took care of him in the ER when he was admitted."
"Did you not also care for Antwan a few days earlier? And isn't Mrs. Washington currently pursuing a malpractice suit regarding your treatment of Antwan that day?"
"You don't understand," she protested. "Virginia Ulrich put her up to that."
"Yes or no, Dr. Hart. Is Mrs. Washington suing you over Antwan's care?"
She hung her head. "Yes," she mumbled.
"Then what were you doing in his room? You weren't there as his physician, so why were you there, Dr. Hart?"
"I told you someone called and asked me to go there."
"Right. Someone called and asked you to visit a patient you were being sued over. At two in the morning."
She raised her head at the note of challenge in Kwon's voice. The detective was staring at her, the disbelief evident in her eyes. Cassie held her stare and remained silent.
"Okay, let's put that aside for a moment. What did you do while you were in Antwan's room?"
This was going to sound crazy, they'd never believe her. "I read a book to him."
"It's two in the morning, he's a critically ill child and you've left the side of your equally ill," Kwon hesitated here, obviously uncertain how to describe Cassie's relationship with Muriel, "friend, to read a book to him?"
Cassie couldn't help but smile. She remembered Antwan's tentative grin and the look of trust he'd given her. Damn it, she wasn't going to give in to Kwon. And not to Virginia Ulrich, either. She'd find someway out of this. She had to if she wanted her life back.
"Good Night Moon," she told the detective, meeting her gaze unwaveringly. "After Antwan fell asleep, I went out to the dictation area to review his chart. I fell asleep also. I was there when they called me to help with his seizure."
"How convenient," Kwon said.
"I'm not the one who poisoned him. Why aren't you checking where Virginia Ulrich was?"
"According to her husband, she was home in bed with him."
"Then he's lying!" Cassie took a deep breath and tried to calm down. "Look, I'm sorry. It's just that I've been through a lot lately. My life hasn't been the same ever since I met that woman."
"Virginia Ulrich?"
"Yes."
"Tell me about that. How did you come to suspect that she might be hurting her own child? Is that something you've ever accused any other parent of? This Munchausen by Proxy?"
"No. It's very rare. A caretaker, usually the mother, induces or lies about symptoms in her child to manipulate medical professionals and other people's feelings about her. She becomes the center of attention while her child is subjected to unnecessary medical procedures."
"And you've never seen a case yourself?"
"No. I've read about them, heard a lecture on it once."
"So why did you suspect Virginia Ulrich of having this rare disorder? It wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that she had an affair with your ex-husband and that the child she's carrying may be his?"
"No, of course not. I didn't know about Richard and Virginia, and if I did I wouldn't care. They deserve each other."
"So you met her for the first time that day in the ER? Had no idea who she was or what she meant to your ex? You didn't have any previous history to base your conclusion on, so what made you think of this rare disorder?"
Cassie shook her head. "I don't know, I just–" she stopped, remembering Charlie's resuscitation. "At first I was puzzled by Charlie's symptoms–his clinical picture didn't fit the story she gave us. But everyone else believed her."
"So what made you accuse this mother of such a heinous crime?"
"It wasn't until I saw the videotape–" She broke off. That was it! Finally, she had a chance of proving that Virginia Ulrich was the monster Cassie knew her to be.
"Videotape? Dr. Hart?" Kwon prodded her.
"They said the lidocaine came from the ER, right?"
Kwon nodded, puzzled by the abrupt change of topic.
"We have video cameras in all of the critical care rooms in the ER," Cassie rushed on, excited by the prospect of clearing her name. "Call over to hospital security, have them pull all the tapes for the last shift. You'll have proof who took the lidocaine used to poison Antwan."
Kwon raised an eyebrow. "And have you been in the ER lately, Dr. Hart?" she persisted.
"Not since two nights ago." Cassie didn't care, Kwon could ask all the questions in the world. She had Virginia Ulrich nailed. Then she realized a flaw in her plan. There were other crash carts besides the ones in the critical care rooms. If Virginia had used one of them, there would be no record of her on video. Plus, the tapes were just for teaching purposes so they were recorded over every few hours to save money.
If that had happened, then what would she do?
CHAPTER 31
It was fascinating to see how a pervert's mind worked, Drake thought as he thumbed through the books lining the shelves of Mendlesohn's inner sanctum. Jimmy had already left with a trunk full of evidence: computer, assorted flash drives, photo albums and DVD's. None had appeared to be pornography or in anyway related to Mendlesohn's alleged extra-curricular activities, but Drake had worded the warrant so that they had the right to remove and examine any images found on the premises.
"Still nothing," one of the uniforms complained, climbing down the ladder from the overhead crawl space. "Thought you said these sickos always kept souvenirs."
Drake ignored him as he continued his perusal of the psychologist's collection. Mendelsohn's house was a split-level dating back to the seventies. He hadn't changed much; it still boasted avocado green appliances, burnt orange shag carpeting and fake pine paneling. The only improvement was the large set of bookcases that stretched the entire length of one wall of the study.
Texts from Freud, Jung, Adler, Ericson–the founding fathers of psychology–lined the shelves. Drake ran his finger along their spines, letting his finger bounce, bounce over their embossed leather covers. He stopped halfway down and looked at his finger.
Clean. Not a speck of dust. He sat down behind the desk. Mendelsohn's chair was too short to be comfortable for Drake, but there were well-worn grooves in the rug testifying to the hours Mendelsohn sat here. There was an empty space on left corner of the desk where the computer had sat but no dust marks. The light sat behind him, also on the left.
Drake reached out a hand, flicked it on. It's shaft of white glare sliced down to where the computer would have sat. He slumped down, trying to approach Mendelsohn's level.
No, he thought, flicking the light off once more. You prefer the dark for your work. They would find something buried in the computer's hard drive, he was certain. He placed his hands flat against the desk top. It was a fake burled wood veneer, polished smooth. The surface flowed beneath his hands like silk. Or the touch of a young boy's flesh. Sweat-slicked from fear, soft, unmarred, compliant.
He looked up once more. This actor would not have been content to confine himself to visual images. No, Mendelsohn would need something tactile, something he could handle, caress, fantasize over.
His gaze centered on a fat volume of Freud's collected works. It sat on the center of the lovingly crafted shelves, in the place of honor. He pushed up from the chair, strolled over. The edges of the binding were frayed, as if a man had spent many hours simply gazing on the treasured volume, his fingers stroking it.
There was a shelf hidden below the ledge where the book sat. Drake pulled it out, it moved on well-oiled runners, the only sound a soft sigh as it emerged. There were no other shelves, he noted. He tilted the fat volume back. It was heavy, much heavier than he'd anticipated. He needed both hands to remove it from its spot and lay it onto the waiting shelf.
"He probably had a ritual," Drake murmured, his fingers suspended above the rich, blood red, leather.
"What's that?" Kirby asked, looking up from where he sat in a corner, thumbing through receipts.
"Nothing," Drake told the officer. He pulled back the book's cover. "Bingo."
Nestled inside the hole carved from the pages of Freud's wisdom were small, silk-covered boxes. They lined up like soldiers on parade, a dozen in all. Calligraphy in a bold hand spelled out names on parchment labels. Some he recognized: Frantz, Cleary, Eades, Kent. Five others interspersed between them that were strangers. Then the box closest to the top: Trevasian.
What really got to Drake were the two boxes still blank. No way this actor would have stopped at twelve. His stomach tightened wondering how many more boxes, how many more young lives would have been filled with the horrors wracked by Mendelsohn's warped mind.
His cell phone trilled, bringing him back from the abyss of a predator and into the present. "Drake."
"You got anything?" Jimmy asked.
"Jackpot. Don't worry, I'll have Kirby bag and tag. As far as Miller or any defense attorney knows, I was never here."
"Good job, but that's not what I'm worried about. Hart's in trouble."
Drake felt his fist tighten around the phone. He threw the study door open and started down the stairs at a gallop. "What happened?"
<><><>
Kwon left to call the hospital. Cassie waited, something she did poorly even in the best of circumstances. But what other choice did she have?
After an hour, she was even tempted to drink the coffee. One sip dissuaded her. She could save it for a suicide attempt. Not funny, but anything to distract her was helpful.
She resumed pacing the tiny room. Then the door opened again. Jimmy Dolan entered.
"Is everything all right? Have you talked to Mickey? Nothing happened to Muriel, did it?" Her questions and anxieties spilled out at the sight of his welcome face.
"Muriel's fine. DJ's over at Three Rivers, reviewing the videotapes from the ER. He said," Jimmy smiled, "not to worry. And that Kwon's bark is worse than her bite."
Cassie couldn't resist, she moved forward and gave the burly detective a quick hug. "Thanks, Jimmy. Maybe we can finally put this mess behind us. I'm so tired."
"I know," he told her. "But it'll all be over soon. It's just that, in this case, what we know and what we can prove are very far apart."
She brightened at the plural pronoun, hoping that it still included her. "So what's our next step?"
"First of all, how about some breakfast? I've got fresh Krispy Kremes."
She followed Jimmy out to the main squad room and grabbed a glazed donut from the green and white box. It vanished in an instant.
"Will you marry me?" she sighed in pleasure, licking the sugar from her lips, leaning back in Drake's chair. Janet Kwon looked up from her desk and shot her a glare. Cassie resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose at the high-s
trung detective.
"Even if we can prove Virginia Ulrich poisoned Antwan, there's still a few problems we have to contend with." Jimmy took a newspaper from his jacket pocket and slid it over to her. Cassie unfolded it. On the front page was a photo of the police helping her into their car. The headline read: Local doctor questioned about child's poisoning.
"Who called the paper?" she asked.
"An anonymous tip." Jimmy told her. "A tip, that according to their records was made almost ten minutes before the initial call to the police from Three Rivers."
"Before?" Cassie looked up. "Virginia Ulrich."
"That'd be my guess," he answered around a mouthful of donut.
"How is your other case?"
"We nailed him–thanks to you, from what I understand. He's cooling his heels, waiting on his lawyer." He jerked his head towards the interview room beside the one Kwon had questioned her in.
"Did he say anything?"
Jimmy rolled his eyes. "Pretended like he has no idea who any of these boys were, asked for a lawyer and clammed up."
"There's something you both should see." Janet Kwon was smiling again.
Jimmy and Cassie moved over to where a small TV sat on an empty desk. The morning local news was playing and Cassie recognized the front steps of Three Rivers. Today they were filled with a group of people protesting something, carrying placards.
"Shit," she heard Jimmy say. Cassie moved closer. One of the signs had her name in a circle with a line drawn through it, another proclaimed: Let Her Baby Go! and there was more of the same. The news commentator was analyzing the outpouring of public sympathy and community support on behalf of Mrs. Virginia Ulrich.
She looked at Jimmy. "I don't believe it."
"Power of the press. If we ever do get this to trial, we're never going to find an impartial jury. Let's just hope that we get some solid evidence to back us."
His phone rang and he moved to snag it. "Hey, DJ," Jimmy said into the phone. He looked over at Cassie and smiled. "Yeah, she's here." He handed her the phone.
