The Night Bird (Frost Easton #1)(51)

“I wish I could help, Inspector. I want this person found as much as you do. Probably more.”

“Do you?” Frost asked.

She stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“Do you want him found, Dr. Stein, or are you protecting him? Because I think you’re holding out on me.”

Stein got up from her office chair. She went to a Keurig coffeemaker on the credenza against the wall and made herself a cup of coffee. She gestured to offer him one, but he shook his head. While the mug filled, she didn’t talk. She took the coffee back to her desk and sat down again. She studied him over the lip of the mug as she drank.

“I’ve told you everything I can tell you right now,” she said, as if she were choosing her words carefully.

“I’m a lawyer as well as a cop, Dr. Stein. I know a lawyerly response when I hear one.”

“I’m not trying to be difficult, Inspector. The instant anything happens to free my hands, you’ll be my first call. Until then, I can’t betray my patients. I’m sorry.”

“Does that mean you think this man is one of your patients?”

“I didn’t say that at all.”

Frost sighed in frustration and shifted the focus of his questions. He removed his phone from his pocket and put it on the desk between them.

“Do you ever use music in your therapy?” he asked her.

“Of course. Music is very powerful for activating emotions and memories. I select music carefully for each patient.”

He pushed a button on his phone, and Carole King began to sing.

“Do you know this song?” he asked.

Stein gave him a puzzled look, but she nodded. Her eyebrows rose as she heard the reference to the night bird in the first verse.

“Is this a song you’ve ever used?” he asked. “Have you played it in therapy with any of your patients?”

“No.”

“Well, it seems to mean something to the Night Bird. He used this song with each of the women who died. This seems to be what triggered their breakdowns. In every case, the song started playing, and that was when they had a psychotic reaction. Is that possible?”

Stein listened to the song. He could guess what she was thinking. It was strange to think of this pretty song as a murder weapon. The psychiatrist nodded. “Yes, music can be a trigger for behavior, based on hypnotic suggestions. Sometimes I’ll encourage patients to play a certain song as a soothing technique for their anxiety.”

“Can you interpret anything from his choice of this particular song?” Frost asked. “Does it mean anything to you?”

She shook her head. “No, it doesn’t.”

He needed to get through to her—to make her talk—but he didn’t know how.

“You said you thought this person was trying to destroy you,” Frost reminded her. “Do you still believe that?”

Stein gave him a thin smile. “The media is hounding me. I’ve basically suspended my practice. I’m sure somewhere along the line, I’m going to get sued over this. So yes, I believe the Night Bird wants to destroy me, and you know what? He may well succeed.”

Frost saw a glimmer of emotion in her face. She didn’t show much emotion at all, but right now, she wavered between anger and tears. “Someone who would go to that much trouble to hurt you isn’t likely to be a stranger,” he told her.

“You’re probably right.”

“So who hates you, Dr. Stein?”

He saw sadness creep into her face. She got up, taking her coffee in one hand and her cell phone and portable charger in the other. The door to the adjoining room was open, and she wandered inside. Frost followed her. He realized that this was the room where she treated her patients. It had the feel of a shrine, like the temple of memory. He knew some people would probably feel comfortable here, but he didn’t like it at all. She used this room to get inside people’s heads, and he didn’t trust anyone who did that.

She was watching him closely. “You don’t like me, do you, Inspector?”

“I don’t know you.”

“Well then, you don’t like what I do for a living.”

He shrugged. “You’re right about that.”

“I’m not an ice queen,” Stein told him. “I know I may seem that way. I grew up with an emotionless father. He was a demanding academic. I learned to keep my own feelings locked away, but I hate to see other people in pain. I’ve devoted my life to helping patients do what I never seem to do myself. Let their emotions out. Deal with their fears. Get past the hurt.”

“I’m not judging you,” Frost said.

“No? Then you’d be the first. There’s been a long line of people telling me what to do my whole life.”

Frost took a step closer. He wanted to make her uncomfortable with his physical proximity, but she let him get within inches of her without any reaction. She wasn’t easily intimidated.

“I don’t have time for true confessions, Dr. Stein. All I want to know is who hates you enough to ruin your life. And who would be smart enough and ruthless enough to kill innocent women as part of his plan. I don’t care how many enemies you have. That has to be a short list. So why don’t you stop hiding behind your ethics and tell me what you know?”

Her eyes were cool. They were always cool. “I’ve already told you what I can. I wish there was something more I could say.”