Fool Me Once(64)

“Why don’t you sit for a moment, Maya?”

“Why don’t you pound sand, Mary?”

If Mary McLeod was flustered by Maya’s belligerence, her face didn’t show it. “I think I can help you.”

“You can help me by telling me where Judith is.”

“I already told you. I don’t know.”

“Bye now.”

“My son served two tours. One in Iraq, one in Afghanistan.”

Maya couldn’t help herself. She hesitated.

“Jack misses it. That’s the part they never talk about it, isn’t it? It changed him. He hated it. And yet he wants to go back over. Part of it is guilt. He feels like he left friends over there. Part of it is something else. Something he has trouble articulating.”

“Mary?”

“What?”

“Are you lying about having a son in the military?”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Sure you would. You’re manipulative. You and Judith manipulated me into coming into this office. You manipulated me into this room. You’re trying various manipulations to get me to talk to you.”

Mary McLeod stood ramrod straight. “I’m not lying about my son.”

“Maybe not,” Maya said. “But either way, you and Judith should both know that without trust, you can’t have a doctor-patient relationship. This whole little sham to get me here broke that trust.”

“That’s nonsense.”

“What’s nonsense?”

“That without trust, you can’t have a doctor-patient relationship.”

“Are you serious?”

“Suppose a loved one—maybe your sister—had shown all the signs of having cancer—”

“Oh, don’t go there.”

“Why, Maya, what are you afraid of? Suppose that cancer could be cured if you just could get your loved one to a physician. If you and that physician conspired to get her into his office—”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Yes, Maya. It is. It is exactly the same thing. You’re not getting that, but it is. You need help, just like that cancer patient.”

This was a waste of time. Maya wondered whether Mary McLeod was part of all this or if she was being sincere—if Judith had, in fact, manipulated and lied to her old colleague. It didn’t matter.

“I need to see Judith,” Maya said.

“I’m sorry, Maya. I can’t help you there.”

Maya headed for the door. “You can’t help me at all.”


*

Screw it.

Maya dialed the number as she headed back to her car. Judith answered on the second ring.

“I hear it didn’t go so well with my colleague.”

“Where are you, Judith?”

“Farnwood.”

“Don’t go anywhere,” Maya said.

“I’ll be waiting.”

She drove in through the service entrance again, hoping maybe to catch Isabella wandering outside or something, but the entire compound appeared empty. Maybe she should break in and poke around, see if she could find a clue as to where Isabella might be hiding, but that was risky and she didn’t have the time. Judith would know how long a ride from New York City to Farnwood would be.

The butler answered the door. Maya could never remember his name. It wasn’t something like Jeeves or Carson. It was something ordinary like Bobby or Tim. Still, as befitted his servant station, Bobby/Tim looked down his nose at her.

Without preamble, Maya said, “I’m here to see Judith.”

“Madam is expecting you,” he said in some faux British prep school accent, “in the parlor.”

“The parlor” was what rich people called a living room. Judith wore a black pantsuit and a strand of pearls that came down almost to her waist. Her earrings were silver hoops, her hair stylishly slicked back. She held a crystal glass in her hand, posed as though she were shooting a magazine cover.

“Hello, Maya.”

No need for pleasantries. “Tell me about Tom Douglass.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Who?”

“Tom Douglass.”

“I don’t know that name.”

“Think hard.”

She did. Or pretended to. After a few seconds passed, Judith shrugged theatrically.

“He worked in the Coast Guard. He investigated your son’s drowning.”

The glass dropped from Judith’s hand, shattering on the floor. Maya did not jump back. Neither did Judith. They just stood there a moment, the glass shards rolling to a stop.

There was a hiss in Judith’s voice when she asked, “What the hell are you talking about?”

If this was an act . . .

“Tom Douglass is a private investigator now,” Maya said. “Your family has been paying him almost ten thousand dollars a month for years. I would like to know why.”

Judith wobbled a bit, like a fighter who was trying to take advantage of the eight count. The question had staggered her, no question about it. If the stagger came from the fact that she hadn’t known about the payoff or hadn’t expected Maya to find out about it was still anyone’s guess.

“Why would I pay off this Tom . . . What did you say his last name was?”