Beauty vs. the Beast

by M. J. Rodgers

  “For what?”

  “For any and all records in your possession pertaining to the treatment of one of your patients, a LeRoy Nye. I will accompany you inside and you will gather these records so I may take them with me now, please.”

  Damian was immediately and thoroughly alarmed. “For what purpose? What are you going to do with these records?”

  “Judge Ingle wants to take a look at them,” Croghan spoke up from behind the officer. The attorney was smiling from ear to ear.

  Damian realized that it was Croghan who had been sitting, waiting in the white Lincoln and who was obviously behind the confiscation of his records. He opened the court order and read it carefully, plodding through as much of the legalese as he could. His eyes riveted on the one part that was clear—far too clear.

  “All paper and taped records, including voice and video.”

  He refolded the paper, his unease growing. Was that typical legal language to cover all the bases, or did someone have inside knowledge of his videotaped sessions with Lee?

  He turned as he heard Kay’s car pulling up. She jumped out of the driver’s seat and came running over to the three men. He handed her the court order in response to the question on her face. She read the document quickly, her back straightening perceptibly as the import of the court order made itself felt.

  “So this is why AJ was trying to get in touch with me.”

  “Any way to fight this?” he asked.

  Her eyes rose to his. Her expression remained composed, her voice even. Only the stiffness of her body language gave away her inner agitation. “No.”

  Damian held his own frustration in check as he turned toward the house and slowly walked up the sidewalk. He dug into his pocket for his key, opened the door and stepped inside. Kay was right behind him, the policeman behind her and Croghan bringing up the rear. Damian led the single-file procession directly to his study.

  And all the while his mind raced. Somehow, he must find a way to block these tapes from being made public. Somehow.

  He opened the door and flipped on the light.

  The instant he did so, he stiffened at what he saw.

  The primitive shield lay on the floor. The enormous wall to the file room stood ajar.

  Damian charged forward, grabbed its edge and swung it wide, fearing what he would see and, even worse, what he would not see.

  His worst fears were realized. Inside, all the shelves were empty.

  * * *

  “YOUR HONOR, this is nothing but a blatant attempt by the defense to suppress evidence!” Croghan yelled in Ingle’s private chambers less than two hours later.

  “It’s obvious that Dr. Steele took those tapes himself because he knew they would be favorable to the plaintiff’s case. He fabricated this whole robbery scenario in a transparent attempt to cover up!”

  “That’s rubbish,” Kay responded, having to fight to keep her voice even. She turned away from Croghan and faced the judge.

  “It’s ludicrous for Mr. Croghan to suggest such a thing. Those videotapes would not have aided the plaintiff’s case. On the contrary, they would have proved the defense’s case beyond any doubt. Defense is far more disadvantaged now that the tapes have been stolen.”

  “Stolen? Who are you trying to kid, Counselor?” Croghan’s booming voice blasted in Kay’s ear. “I was there, remember? Dr. Steele opened his front door with his key. The lock showed no signs of being forced. No windows were found broken. How did this supposed thief break in?”

  “So now you’re a crime-scene investigator, is that it, Croghan?” Kay said, her volume soft but not her tone. “Funny, I didn’t see you checking to see if any window had been forced. Nor did I see you dusting for prints.”

  “Still sticking with the theft story, huh? Okay, Kellogg, how do you explain that the videotapes of the LeRoy Nye sessions were the only things stolen?”

  “How do you know that the videotapes of the LeRoy Nye sessions were the only things stolen? Dr. Steele hasn’t even had a chance to check to see what was taken yet.”

  Ingle rapped his knuckles on his desk. Kay could tell he was clearly enjoying the verbal sparring but had apparently decided it was time to ring the bell for this round. Besides, even though the judge had requested this emergency meeting in his chambers following the policeman’s report of the missing tapes, Kay surmised by his more formal wear that Ingle had been reluctantly pulled away from a previous engagement.

  Although what kind of function would welcome a middle-aged man with a mohawk, golden rings hanging out of his nose and ears and wearing a silver tuxedo with a purple stripe and purple running shoes, she absolutely could not imagine.

  “Okay you two,” the judge said. “You got your respective jabs in. Now sit down and calm down. Until such time as we have the police report, we will proceed with this trial and leave the matter of sorting out the missing tapes to them.”

  “But I need those videotapes,” Croghan complained.

  “Give it a rest, Mr. Croghan.” The judge turned to Damian. “Now, Dr. Steele, do you have any other records of your conversations with your patient?”

  Kay’s eyes swung to Damian’s face. He appeared and sounded as calm and perfectly controlled as ever as he sat beside her.

  “Just those written case notes that you have in your hands. They’re from the first three months of sessions,” he answered.

  Ingle flipped through the large stack of pages, not looking too enthusiastic. “Is there anything about the Roy Nye personality in these notes?”

  “The last several sheets deal with the session in which the Roy personality first appeared. Again, I want to stress that these records are protected by doctor-patient confidentiality and that this court has no right—”

  “Yes, yes. As Ms. Kellogg has been declaring quite vehemently over the last thirty minutes. But as I understand it, Lee Nye, not Roy Nye, came to you as a patient, isn’t that correct, Dr. Steele?”

  “Technically yes, but—”

  “Technically will do just fine for me, Doctor. And since Roy Nye was technically not your patient, it is only your interactions with him that I will consider reading or letting Mr. Croghan read.”

  “But without psychological training—”

  “Yes, yes.” Ingle waved away Damian’s concerns with an impatient hand. “You and Ms. Kellogg have both made that abundantly clear several times now. But Mr. Croghan claims the psychological sessions will support his case, and before I can decide if this is true and give him a chance to see these notes, I must read them first. Too bad Roy only appears briefly in these. Are you certain you have no idea who may have stolen those tapes?”

  “None, Your Honor.”

  A knock sounded on the door to the judge’s chambers. Ingle yelled for whoever it was to come in. Kay thought that the judge had certainly shed his stodgy demeanor with amazing ease. Maybe this other side had been there all the time. Maybe he just had been looking for an excuse to let it out.

  We’re all just mysteries waiting to unfold. Why were Damian’s words coming back to her now?

  The door opened partially, the burly bailiff with the smudge of a mustache curving his head around its corner.

  “I thought I heard raised voices a few minutes ago. Everything all right, Your Honor?”

  “Fine, fine. We’re finished here. You can escort this trio out and go back to whatever you were doing when we interrupted you this evening. I’d say this ends our prologue, ladies and gentlemen. Jury selection tomorrow morning. Then on to Tuesday morning and chapter one. I’m expecting great things from you two. Don’t disappoint me.”

  * * *

  “DAMIAN, were the tapes the only things taken from your place?” Kay asked as they walked to their cars, which were parked in a covered lot a few blocks down from the courthouse.

  “I believe so.”

  His voice was calm. If he was angry over the incident, he certainly had that anger in control.

  Kay switched her attention to his face,
but it was shrouded in the dark night and the equally dark parking lot.

  “So Croghan was right. Someone was only after those tapes. Who knew you had them?”

  “Outside of Lee and the other doctors I mentioned them to, no one knew.”

  “Who knew about that secret file room?”

  “Some of the patients I’ve seen in my home may have surmised it was there, although, to be honest, that seems unlikely since I never opened it in front of them.”

  “Did you ever see Lee in your home?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who else?”

  “Bette Boson, my other multi-personality case and a few other patients during crisis periods in their treatment.”

  “Of the people who knew about or could have known about the tapes and hidden file room, who would or could have stolen those tapes?”

  “I don’t know that any of them could or would. It doesn’t make sense. I can’t see how stealing those tapes would benefit anyone.”

  “Could anything on those tapes possibly help Croghan’s case?”

  “No. And if he knew what was on them, he certainly wouldn’t have brought them to Ingle’s attention or be pressing for them to be found.”

  “You mean because of how despicable the Roy personality reveals itself to be on those tapes?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you think Croghan’s just engaging in a fishing expedition?”

  “He has to be. Those tapes can’t do anyone but a psychologist studying MPD any good. In anyone else’s hands, they can only do harm.”

  “I wish I could have seen them before that damn thief got to them.”

  “Sorry, but that’s one wish I can’t share.”

  She looked at his face as they passed beneath a dim light on the parking structure wall and could have sworn she saw a small light of satisfaction glinting in his eyes.

  “You know, Damian, if I hadn’t had you in my sights nearly the entire time, I could almost suspect you’d stolen those tapes yourself just to keep me from seeing them.”

  “Could you? My, my, how can you lawyers be so suspicious?”

  “And how can you psychologists be so damn good at keeping secrets?”

  The sudden charming smile that lit his lips was deliberately and thoroughly disreputable.

  Momentarily lost in that captivating smile, Kay almost missed the significance of the racing engine nearby. When it finally got her attention, it was almost too late. The car was burning rubber and accelerating directly for them.

  There was no time left for her to think, much less act.

  Damian’s strong arms grabbed her as he leaped out of the way. Kay actually felt the air from the fender as the car whizzed past them, out of the parking lot, its tires screeching, its engine whining.

  She collapsed gratefully against Damian’s solid, safe chest, feeling his strong heart beating as her own heart hammered relentlessly against her rib cage.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice husky.

  “Yes. Thanks,” she muttered a moment later when she could, still trying to keep her knees from buckling beneath her, both from the close call and the closeness with which he held her.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, his voice still husky, his breath stirring against her hair. He didn’t let her go.

  She didn’t know if it was reaction to the car almost hitting them or to how good his arms felt around her, but she had a hell of a hard time catching her breath for several more seconds.

  Even when she could, she did not attempt to pull away. He felt so good. So damn good. Her voice, when it finally came again, was still a shaky sigh.

  “First a speedboat and now a car. Whoever said Seattle was one of the safest big cities in America?”

  “Real-estate agents. Kay, your heart is beating as fast as a frightened bird’s. Are you really all right?”

  “No, I’m not all right. Damian, I don’t believe in coincidences. Two such close calls in the same day is way out of the law of averages. What’s going on?”

  His arms tightened around her. She felt him plant a brief, warm kiss on the top of her head.

  “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  “We have to go to the police.”

  “And tell them what? Did you see who was driving that speedboat or that car? Can you even describe the boat or car?”

  “No, I can’t, but, damn it, there must be something we can do.”

  “Yes. There is something I can do. Consider yourself fired.”

  She pushed away from his chest to try to see his face in the dark parking lot. “Fired?”

  “You bet, fired. You wouldn’t be having these close calls if you weren’t representing me in this cuckoo case.”

  “Cuckoo case? You, a psychologist, use a term like cuckoo case?”

  “What, too technical for you?”

  Kay pushed herself all the way out of his arms. “Oh, very funny. Damian, you can’t fire me.”

  “I just did.”

  “No, you didn’t. We have an agreement, remember? You gave me your word of honor that you’d only fire me for incompetency.”

  “That was agreed upon before we became the target of some serious kook.”

  “Do you think it’s the same person who’s been calling and leaving those breathy messages? Do you think he or she is getting violent?”

  “I don’t know what to think. But I know what to do. You’re off this case, Kay.”

  She could feel the tension in his taut body like a steel beam that would not bend. The man may not know it, but he’d met his match. “No, I’m not off this case. I’m seeing it through. I’m not letting you fire me. I’m holding you to your word of honor.”

  “Kay, don’t make this any more difficult than it is. I know once I explain, Adam will take over the case and—”

  “Adam can’t and won’t take over this case. For one, he’s up to his ears in a very complicated maritime law case of his own. For two, he’d never take back a case he’d given to me. We respect one another at Justice, Inc., too much to behave in such an underhanded way. You might as well face it, Damian, I’m your attorney through the end of this trial.”

  He exhaled a heavy, frustration-laden breath. “Damn it, Kay. Don’t you understand you could get hurt if you continue representing me?”

  “And don’t you understand that you could lose your shirt if I don’t? Damian, another lawyer couldn’t get up to speed in time for your trial. Think about it. Maybe that’s what all of this is about. Maybe the breathy messages and the close calls are just scare tactics so you will fire me and lose this lawsuit. Maybe that’s how this kook is really trying to harm you.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed reluctantly.

  “Maybe, nothing. I’m convinced of it. I’m not letting you play into this crazy’s hands by caving in to these terrorist acts. I refuse to let you take a professional and financial beating.”

  “I can’t allow—”

  “You don’t have a say in the matter, Dr. Steele. I’m remaining as your attorney and that’s that. Damn. Are all you psychologists so difficult to convince?”

  He laughed suddenly and she sensed the previous tension in his body dissipating into the dark night. “Damn. Are all you attorneys so difficult to fire?”

  Chapter Eight

  “Dr. Steele, did you kill Roy Nye?” the reporter yelled as Kay and Damian shouldered their way through the throng of newspeople on Tuesday morning.

  Kay smiled into the bright lights of the cameras as microphones were shoved into hers and Damian’s faces. “Dr. Steele will be making no press statements for the duration of this case. Please direct your questions to me, ladies and gentlemen.”

  They edged ahead as best they could against the pushing bodies. Kay was not surprised that the reporters completely ignored what she’d said and continued to shove microphones in her client’s face and bark questions at him.

  “Dr. Steele, Mrs. Nye is asking for three million dollars in damages. Will you sett
le if she comes down to two million?”

  “Dr. Steele has no reason to settle. He is in the right,” Kay emphasized.

  “What about one million?” another reporter asked.

  Kay didn’t waste her breath answering this time.

  “Dr. Steele, how much is half of a dual-personality patient worth, would you say?”

  “No comment,” Damian answered.

  “How many other personalities have you murdered?”

  “No comment,” Damian repeated.

  “Mr. Croghan says your paper records on Roy Nye aren’t sufficient for him to present a true picture of his client’s husband. How do you feel about that?”

  “No comment.”

  “Dr. Steele, is it true you destroyed Roy Nye’s session videotapes so they couldn’t help Mrs. Nye’s case?”

  Kay had warned Damian to always smile when he refused to answer questions, particularly when those questions got nasty, like that last one. She was delighted to see how well Damian complied, while surreptitiously shoving the obnoxious reporter out of their way.

  Another group of reporters were hovering around Croghan and his client, like flies around fresh meat, as they also tried to advance toward the courtroom.

  “Yes, we fully expect to win,” Croghan was saying. “We have right on our side,” he added as he deliberately bumped Kay, beaming his full set of large, shiny teeth at the cameras.

  Kay kept her balance only because of Damian’s sturdy, strong arm that immediately came out to encircle her.

  She knew her reactions to this man were getting more and more out of line and illogical. But ever since Sunday, when he’d rescued her from drowning and from that speeding car and held her in his arms against his warm, strong chest and kissed her so thoroughly and thrillingly, Kay had been feeling anything but logical.

  Now, as Damian slowly withdrew his arm from around her body, it was with a sense of deep regret that she reminded herself that she had best sharpen that professional line between them that had been fading far too fast.

  “Show time, Ms. Kellogg,” Croghan quipped. “I just can’t wait to get in there and get going. I’m about to make history.”

  Kay smiled back at her adversary, quite aware of the camera lenses trained on them and the open microphones.