In This Life (22 page)

Nat considered me for a few cautious seconds before putting down the tablet. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I’ll be better once I explain everything to David.”

I found my cell phone plugged into the charger on the kitchen desk, snagged it and dialed. The call went into David’s voicemail. I left a message saying that it was important and I needed to talk to him right away. Then I fished through the desk drawer for my Jeep’s keys. Nat grabbed my hand before I found them.

“What are you doing, Lottie?”

“I’m going to find David.”

“He doesn’t want to see you right now.”

I shoved at Nat’s massive chest, wanting him out of the way. “I’ll change his mind.”

I had to. I had to make things right again and there was only one way to do it.

“So what are you gonna do? Drive around all his haunts, looking for him?”

“If I have to. But it would be easier if you just tell me where he is.”

“That’s not gonna happen.” Nat placed his hands on either side of me, cornering me against the granite countertop. “My best friend said he wanted time alone and asked me to watch his girl, and I’m gonna do that. You understand what that means?”

“Step aside, Nat.”

“You’re a friend, Lottie, but you’re not David. I won’t betray him like you betrayed him.”

“You have no idea what’s going on.”

“I know more than you think I do.”

I wondered what David had told him and decided it didn’t matter. “Your loyalty may be to David,” I told him, “but remember that you’re going to have to answer to David when he discovers you’re the reason he and I couldn’t make things right between us.”

Nat pulled back, but only slightly. Then his cell phone rang and, after considering me a little while longer, backed away and answered. For a brief moment, I wondered if David was on the other end of the line. When Nat disconnected, he looked at me with a seriousness I’d never seen in him before.

“Bad news, Lottie.”

I held steady, waiting.

“I got intel on the hair from that envelope you got last week,” Nat said. “Wasn’t yours.”

“But it looked like mine.”

He shook his head and clipped the phone to his waist. “Dyed. Came from a long-haired blonde.”

I knew only one person who had long blonde hair. “Mrs. Reynolds.”

“Who’s Mrs. Reynolds?”

I didn’t answer and darted out of the kitchen instead, remembering Logan’s phone that David had given me yesterday and that I’d left upstairs when Lori and I knocked back the tequila. “Be right back,” I called out, and I took off for my bedroom.

Nat followed, peppering me with questions. “What are you doing? What’s going on? Whose phone is that?”

I ignored him and started cycling through the text history. In there, I found the texts I received while I waited for Paul in the Amrose parking lot the other day.

“Lottie, tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m not exactly sure.”

The front doorbell rang and I told Nat to answer it. While he headed downstairs, I cycled through the call history next. There, I found the call made to my house last Friday by the man who knew about my dream, along with dozens of others to a phone number I didn’t know. Curious, I pressed redial.

While I waited for someone to answer, I heard two sets of footsteps ascend the stairs and head toward my bedroom.

A woman picked up the phone and said, “Paul? Is that you?”

I stilled when I realized it was Mrs. Reynolds.

“Say something, Paul. I don’t like secrets or being lied to.”

Nat’s voice broke into my confused silence. “You got company, Lottie.”

I looked up and discovered Paul standing next to him.

I disconnected the call and took a step back, watching Paul with caution.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

His face showed bewilderment at the question, then apprehension when he saw the cell phone in my hand.

I held it up. “Explain this.”

“It’s a cell phone. It’s used to make phone calls.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Try again.”

Paul hesitated.

“It’s all here on this phone,” I said. “The texts and the calls you made to me. Why did you do it?”

“I haven’t done anything.”

Nat moved in beside me. “What’s going on?”

Paul’s eyes flicked to Nat then settled back on me. “I came here to apologize for what happened yesterday.”

I looked at Nat. “This is Paul’s phone. It’s filled with phone calls made to Mrs. Reynolds, and incriminating texts and calls made to me. David found it on Logan yesterday, and I suspect that’s why Logan’s been trying to meet with me. He discovered what I needed to know.”

“The calls we’ve been investigating?” he asked.

“Yes.” I looked back at Paul. “Did you send the hair, too?”

“What hair?” Paul asked. “Lottie, you’re not making any sense and you’re agitated.” He turned to Nat. “She needs to be sedated.”

“He’s lying,” I told Nat.

“You’ve seen her behavior lately, haven’t you?” Paul asked. “Lottie has been experiencing episodes that have no basis in reality and these episodes seem to be getting worse. She needs attention. Promptly.”

Paul took a step closer and I stood firm. “You’re not denying anything. In fact, I’d say that your evasiveness over my accusations only shows just how guilty you are.”

For one brief moment I saw Paul’s expression soften, giving me a glimpse of the man I thought I knew. I thought about what Mrs. Reynolds said on the phone, about her not liking his secrets, and I wondered what other secrets Paul kept hidden from me, too. Then his features hardened and the Paul I knew faded away.

“We were best friends for years, Paul,” I said. “I’ve confided in you and you in me. Why do this? Was it because I chose David instead of you?”

“Help me restrain her,” Paul said to Nat. “And I’ll get her hospitalized and under observation.”

Nat’s gaze volleyed between the two of us.

“Was it because I never gave us a chance?” I asked.

Paul pressed his lips together.

“I’m sorry that things didn’t work out for us, and I’m sorry I hurt you, Paul. You have to know I never intended to cause you any pain.”

Paul remained silent but there was heaviness in his silence that didn’t sit well, and I knew that wasn’t all of it. There had to be more at stake here. But what? I remembered the photo of his niece, Deborah, which Paul kept in its prideful place on the shelf in his office, where everyone could see it, and knew I had the bigger answer.

“Was it because of what happened to Deborah?”

Paul flinched and I knew I had him.

“Was it?” When Paul didn’t respond, I asked, “Was it because Deborah was like the daughter you never had?”

Paul swallowed and a small bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face.

“Was it because she was depressed and you couldn’t help her?”

His jaw clenched.

“Or was it because I couldn’t help her either? Are you blaming me for her death?”

“It
was
your fault!” Paul fired back. “You found another psychiatrist and had him prescribe a medication you knew carried increased risk of suicide in teenagers. And you did nothing about it. She had her whole life ahead of her, and you didn’t look for the signs, and by the time we realized what was going on it was too late!”

“And you’re going to make me pay for it.”

“You deserve it,” Paul grated, then his tone turned apologetic. “That didn’t come out the way I meant, Lottie.”

“I think it did.”

Nat tugged the phone from his waist.

“Put that down,” Paul said. “There’s no need to call for help. I can take care of her. She needs psychiatric help at a proper facility. She needs a psychiatrist who can look after her.”

Paul moved for me and Nat stepped in between. “I’ll call whoever I think I need, buddy. The lady wants answers,” he said. “I suggest you give them to her.”

Paul snagged the cell from my hand.

“Call David,” I told Nat. “Now.”

Nat tackled Paul, knocking the cell phone from his hand. It skittered across the tile floor and I raced to pick it up. I heard a body slam against a wall and the sound of fist on bone, followed by heavy breathing and then silence. When I turned around, Nat was hefting an unconscious Paul into a seated position against a wall. Paul had a giant welt on his cheek and a split lip.

“Is he going to be okay?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about this jerk-wad.” Nat turned to me. “You got any rope or twine so I can tie him up before he comes around? He won’t be out forever.”

Paul looked peaceful and composed and more like the man I used to know. Or thought I knew. In hindsight, it all seemed so obvious now — what Paul had done and why he’d done it — and the truth hurt. I’d trusted him and never saw the betrayal coming. I didn’t even see his need for revenge.

“The rope’s in the garage,” I said.

Nat went to find the rope and I called David again, only to leave another message. As soon as I hung up, Nat returned and my cell phone rang.

Logan didn’t wait for my hello. “I need your help, Doctor Morgan.”

He sounded distressed and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. It wasn’t the first time he’d tried playing games with me, and I knew there was no reason it would be different now.

“Where are you?” I asked, watching Nat tie up Paul.

“Home and I need you to come over. Something’s going down with my mother.”

“Are you in danger? Do you need me to call the police?”

“No.” Logan’s voice dropped. “She’s acting weird. She’s pacing around, mumbling shit to herself, saying stuff about this guy, Paul, that she’s been dating, and saying stuff about you, too. She looks all wired, like she’s whacked out or something, and keeps saying she has to get to you. I don’t get what’s happening.”

I glanced at Paul on the floor, bound by his hands and feet. Nat was searching through his wallet and personal phone.

“Is she coherent?” I asked.

“Sorta. It started when we got home, after she posted my bail with the cops. She didn’t say nothing in the car, but she got a phone call from Paul a couple of minutes ago and something got her spooked.”

I intended to head over and evaluate the situation firsthand but remembered the dozens of times Logan had told stories before. Then I heard his mother in the background, calling out Paul’s name, and knew he was telling the truth. Paul had lied to me and withheld from me, and I knew there was more to him that I had to find out. And Logan and Mrs. Reynolds could complete the picture.

“Okay,” I said. “Give me your address and I’ll head over right now.”

I shoved Paul’s cell phone in one back pocket and my own in the other, and returned to the kitchen for my keys. Nat followed and grabbed my hand.

“Wait for David first,” he said.

“I can’t. Logan needs me. You’re done here and I have the evidence that proves it’s been Paul all along.” I patted my back pocket where I had stashed the phone.

“Lottie, I’m only gonna say this once.”

“Consider it said. I’ll see you later.”

Nat cursed but didn’t follow, and I made it to Mrs. Reynolds’s driveway in Huntington Bay in less than thirty minutes. Well-tended with huge trees and rolling hills, the mansion looked like something from a magazine cover. I sat in the Jeep, idling and wondering how I would handle the meeting. At the first sign of trouble, I decided I was calling the police.

I cut the engine, walked up the long, cobblestone driveway to the front entrance, and rang the doorbell, unsure of what to expect on the other side. One of the massive wood, double doors swung open and Logan peered out at me from the inside. A chandelier the size of a small car hung over a foyer as big as my entire first floor.

“Where is she?” I asked.

“In the living room.”

“Does she know I’m coming?”

Logan shook his head.

I stepped over the threshold, heard Mrs. Reynolds call out Paul’s name again, and followed the direction of her voice with Logan close behind. My Keds squeaked across the inlaid, undoubtedly imported wood floor.

“My mother’s gonna try to play you,” Logan whispered as we entered a living room that had two fireplaces and was decorated with furniture and art that I guessed totaled more than my annual salary.

Mrs. Reynolds was sitting on a raw silk wing chair reading
Vogue
magazine near the larger fireplace. “Paul? Where have you been?” She looked up from her magazine at Logan and then to me, rose from her chair, smoothed her black dress, and gave me a cordial smile.

“Doctor Morgan, what a pleasant surprise. What brings you here this afternoon?”

Logan gave me another warning look and took a position near a tapestry sofa. I headed for the wing chair beside his mother.

“Logan called me because he said you were asking for me,” I said. “I apologize that I showed up unannounced. I hope you don’t mind.”

Mrs. Reynolds’s mouth thinned and an unspoken message passed between her and her son. Then Logan told her to go to hell. She apologized to me on his behalf and motioned to the vacant chair next to her.

“You’ll have to excuse Logan today, Doctor Morgan. He’s been a little under the weather lately.”

“Is everything all right?” I asked, taking a seat.

She gave me a forced smile and glanced at Logan, another silent look passing between them. “I suppose I should have called you at the office or made a more formal appointment, but it isn’t often that Logan looks after me. The fact that he called you today and that you responded so quickly means a lot to me.”

Logan rolled his eyes.

Mrs. Reynolds sighed.

“What happened?” I asked.

She appeared uncertain at first.

“It’s all right, Mrs. Reynolds. I only want to help. We don’t have to talk about anything in particular, right now, if you don’t want to. But I
am
concerned.”

She tossed the magazine to the thick, carpeted floor. “Well, I’ve been having trouble with a man I’ve been dating at the same time I was having trouble with Logan.” She glanced at him again. “When Logan left a note saying he wanted to leave, this man threatened to do the same, and I fell apart. I couldn’t handle it, and then it seemed we might be patching things up and … ” She cast her eyes downward in embarrassment, and after several moments of reflection looked back up. “I am so very sorry for lying to you when we met in your office, Doctor Morgan. I was just trying to cope. It was wrong of me and I realize that, but I was simply reacting to my situation.”