Eyes Wide Open (14 page)

Chapter Thirty-Six

“I
know it was her.” I turned to Sherwood as soon as we got back on the main road.

He put on the brakes, veins popping on his neck. “What do you think you were doing in there?”

I knew I had crossed the line. “We had this one chance,” I said. “I was only trying to figure out what she knew.”

“Yeah, well, you leaked a confidential piece of evidence in the homicide investigation of an ex–police officer. The knife marks. Maybe in the ER, doc, you call the shots. But here you're no more than a guy who's come in off the street with no insurance. That wasn't something she needed to know.”

“All right, I'm sorry,” I said, taking a breath. “But she's part of it, Sherwood.”

“Yeah? What did she say that made up your mind?”

I told him about the car I'd seen three nights ago outside my brother's apartment. The person in the cap watching me.

The same car I was sure I just saw in Susan Pollack's garage.

“Someone staring at you?
” he said, his nostrils flaring. “Sort of like I am now.”

“I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. I don't know how to describe it, but I know they were watching me. Or Charlie. As they drove away the window went down, and they flicked out a cigarette butt my way. It was like a warning, Sherwood. It gave me a chill.”

“Well, maybe you should have listened to it, doc . . .” Sherwood stared at me. “
What
kind of car was it?”

“A compact. A Honda or a Kia or something. A wagon. Black or dark blue.”

“Black or dark blue?
” He rolled his eyes.

“It was night,” I said.

“I know. Exactly,” he replied unsympathetically. “You take note of the plates?”

“No. I didn't get them. I was talking to my wife.”

“What about the car model? The year?”

“I don't know!” I snapped back. “I'm a doctor. I don't know fucking cars. I didn't even suspect that anything was going on back then. It was just a sense.”

“And that's what you want me to broaden an investigation on? Some car you can't identify; a person you think you saw in the dark while you were on the phone.
A sense!
You think I can go to my boss with this and say, ‘Look, all this shit is going on, none of it adds up, but my guy's got a medical degree, and he's pretty sure someone was watching him. We think we found the car. It was in Susan Pollack's garage. It was either a Honda or a Kia, either black or dark blue. It was nighttime . . . And oh, yeah, the thing that totally cinches it, Susan Pollack smokes . . .' ”

“It was her!” I shouted. My gaze burned. “The eyes, the woman who was with Evan, the person in the car outside Charlie's house. It all adds up. We just have to put it together, Sherwood. She knew my brother. You heard what she said. She was taunting me. She knows why Zorn had to find Evan . . .”

“I can't keep this investigation open on taunts. I need something real! I'm a goddamn coroner's detective, not homicide. You know the score here. I have maybe, what, a year before I'm pushed aside. Six months, if the county budget cuts come down. And then what? You know the long-term prospects for a transplant at my age. You can see the color in my eyes, same as me.”

I had noticed the yellowish hue. Along with the bruise marks on his arms. Transplants at his age were always dicey. If he wasn't one of the lucky ones, two years, three years tops.

“I can't afford to mortgage the rest of my career for you!”

He glared at me with his eyes burning, then sat back and put the car in gear. We drove back down the hill toward the coast.

For a while, neither of us said a word. I wanted to say I understood. I understood everything he was saying. I knew we didn't have a single solid shred of evidence to build a case on. Other than these crazy puzzle pieces in my mind. Pieces Sherwood no longer seemed keen on putting together. We knew Zorn knew about Evan. We had the eyes on both bodies. There was a woman with Evan before he ended up dead.

We drove down to the coast and got back on the highway. The morning fog had lifted and it was now a bright and shining day.

Sherwood pulled to the side of the road. For a moment I thought he was going to tell me to get out and make my own way back to Pismo Beach.

Instead, he turned to me and shook his head. “I think you're going at this the wrong way. There's someone else you should be talking to,” he said. “Who knows a lot more than he's letting on.”

I didn't have to ask who he meant.

“You're gonna lose me,” he said.

“I can't.” I looked at him pleadingly.

“You want some answers . . .” He put the car back in gear and drove down the hill. “Quit protecting your brother and ask him.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

I
t was already after eight when Sherwood dropped me off in front of the motel. I didn't feel like dealing with Charlie that night. I was exhausted and drained from the long ride. I went upstairs and ran the shower. I stood in front of the mirror and looked at my hollowed, haggard face.

I kept seeing Susan Pollack's smile.
Your brother
was a musician.

She knew him!
I knew she did. Which meant Charlie was keeping something from me about his time on the ranch.

It's time for Charlie to come clean.

That's when my cell phone rang. Kathy.

This was another conversation I wasn't looking to have. How would I explain what was going on? Where I'd been today? Or why I needed more time here?

“Hey,” I answered, sucking in a breath.

“Hey. You sound tired.”

We tap-danced about the weather for a while, and then the kids. How Maxie had been messing around on Ryan Frantz's guitar while at lacrosse camp and wanted to take lessons.

Then she said, “Jay, I think it's time you brought me in on what the hell's going on out there.”

She was right. It was time. I said, “Just promise me you won't tell me I'm crazy until you hear the whole story, okay?”

“I'd
like
to be able to promise that, Jay . . .”

“All right, here goes . . .”

I started with Walter Zorn and the things that connected him to Evan. Looking for him at the basketball courts. And then the eyes. “We all thought he was delusional, Kathy, but this friend of his confirmed he had been speaking with the police.” I brought up Susan Pollack and the woman who had been spotted with Evan before he died.

Then I brought up Houvnanian. Charlie's old connection to him. How
I
had once met him.

Still she didn't say a word.

Finally I told her where I had been that day.

“Are you done?” Kathy finally asked.

I sat on the edge of the bed and waited. “Yeah, I'm done.”

“Jay
,
are you completely out of your mind?”

“I told you, you weren't allowed to say that,” I said, hoping at least for a chuckle.

There was none.

She said, “You're a doctor, Jay, not a policeman! What you're saying sounds totally crazy. Evan. This murdered detective. These sets of eyes!
Russell Houvnanian!
”

“Look, I know there's no way for you to understand, Kathy. I know that I'm onto something here. I have to see it through.”

“Onto what, Jay?
That your nephew wasn't sick? A few days ago you were claiming the hospital was responsible for his death. You even brought in the press. Now you're saying
what
? That he was
murdered
?”

I let out a breath. “I know how it sounds, Kathy, but yeah.”

“Russell Houvnanian?
Don't you see—you're scaring me now, Jay! Look, I know how tough it must be with Charlie and Gabby now. I know how Evan's death has upset them . . .”

“It has upset them, Kath, but that's not it.”

“Then what is it, Jay?
Tell me
. What is it you're trying to find out there?”

“I'm just trying to find out the truth. About what happened to him. That's all.”

“No. This is all going far beyond Evan. You're stepping into things you shouldn't be. Things the police ought to be handling if something's going on. You're going to get yourself hurt, Jay.
Don't you see I'm worried about you?
”

I knew I had to say something to convince her I hadn't lost my mind. “I just need you to trust me, Kathy, that's all. Like how you trusted me when you went up in the plane with me that first time. Like how you trust me every day to take care of you and Maxie and Sophie. And I've never let you down, have I?”

“No, Jay, you've never let me down.”

I said, “I realized something the other day. I know this'll sound a little crazy. But how lucky we are. All of us. I tried to say it, but I couldn't. You wouldn't have understood.”

“We are lucky, Jay. We are.”

“I don't mean that way. What I mean is, Charlie and my father, they were the same. You know what I'm saying, right? That's why Lenny was so volatile. He just was never diagnosed. He just played it out on a different stage.

“Being out here, and watching how Charlie and Gabby loved Evan, it's made me think, maybe the only reason Charlie is where he is and I'm where I am is simply that I was lucky. That what they had didn't get passed on down to me. Charlie got it, Kathy.”

“You're wrong about that, Jay. You've earned whatever you have. I've watched you. You've earned it all. And you say you're out there to find the truth . . . But the truth is never the truth, Jay, when it comes to your brother. You know that, don't you?”

“Maybe so,” I said. “But I'm going to be there for them, Kathy. I'm in now. And all the way.”

It was the second time in two days we had hung up with distance between us. I promised her I'd be back soon. Maybe not tomorrow, but the day after. Or the day after that.

I sat up and looked in the mirror. And while the face that stared back at me was the same—the one who scrubbed in in the OR, who laughed at
The Office
or
30 Rock,
who cheered on my son at his matches, and who drove my daughter down to college and hung her posters on the walls just right, and even cried in the car after I hugged her good-bye—I saw something different in the eyes that stared back at me.

Something
had
changed.

The phone sounded again.

I hurried to grab it, wanting to say,
Kathy, I didn't mean to scare you. I don't know what's taking hold of me. I need you too
 
. . .

Then I realized it wasn't my cell at all that was ringing. It was the room phone. I thought maybe Sherwood was calling me back, or more likely, the front desk—I was way, way past my original checkout date.

I reached it on the third ring. “Hello?”

“You know the one about the patient, doc, who waits too long to find out what's wrong with him, 'cause he never wants to hear bad news?”

The voice was male, a slight southern inflection to it.

“Sorry?”

“And then it's too late. He's got cancer. And the doctor goes, ‘How would you feel if I told you it was all a joke, and you just have high blood pressure now?' ”

“Who is this?”

He didn't say. Instead he said, “You're a smart man, doc. Smart people like you ought to know when they put their noses where they don't belong. When they should just back off. Before they get themselves burned. Or even worse, maybe someone else, someone close to them.”

“Who the hell is this?
” I said, my blood instantly on fire.

“Don't you worry your little medical degree about that, doc. You worry about what you're gonna do.
Comprende?
I'm just trying to play the good citizen here and clue you in. Time to just pack up and head home, pal. Quit trying to make trouble here.”

“What do you mean,” I said, my temperature rising, “
someone close to me
?”

“Mine to know, doc, yours to worry about. The kid was sick, right? Why don't we just leave it at that. And speaking of sick, let me ask. You smoke, doc?”

I was about to hang up but answered, seething, “No, I don't smoke.”

“That's funny then,” he said, “ 'cause I definitely smell something burning. Don't you?”

The guy's voice had this cozy, insinuating sort of tone to it, which actually scared me a little. “Don't call me again, asshole.”

“ 'Cause it would be easy—you don't know how easy—,” he went on, “to just burn that little nose of yours right off, any time we want. Remember, doc, you're out west, not back in New York. Once a fire starts here, you never know how fast it might spread. Or to where.”

I put down the phone, my heart pounding, anger pouring out of me.

I definitely smell something burning. Don't you?

I jumped up, a sudden alarm shooting through me. I ran to the door and pulled it open, stepping out into the corridor outside. I scanned in both directions, toward the lobby and the parking lot.

No one.

What the hell did he mean?

Then I looked down, my blood rushing to a stop. I saw what was on the mat.

Smell something burning?

It was a lit, half-smoked cigarette.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

T
hirty minutes later I handed the cigarette to Don Sherwood.

I had carefully picked it up—a Salem—put it out, and placed it in a bag from my Dopp kit. Then I called Sherwood, who alerted the Pismo Beach police, who arrived minutes later, lights flashing, along with a detective named Reyes.

“You wanted something real,” I said, handing it to Sherwood. “Here—
this is real
! Go to town!”

The threatening call had come from an untraceable number. I had checked with the front desk before I'd even called Sherwood. The motel had security cameras, mostly on the stairwells, but the one on my outside corridor was on the fritz. It hadn't even been turned on. The night manager said they hadn't needed to look at them in years.

“How're you doing?” Sherwood asked, taking me aside.

I was angry. Who wouldn't be? And upset. “I'm not used to receiving these kinds of threats.”

“You want to file a complaint, Dr. Erlich, Detective Reyes will be happy to take it for you.”

“I don't want to file a complaint!” I said. “What I want is for you to look into my nephew's death. I told you what the guy said. He was warning me to back off. He referred to someone close to me who would be put in danger. You need a scorecard to figure who he meant by that? You need to put a car outside Charlie's house. How much more ‘real' does it have to get? Or maybe you just want to wait until he ends up like Evan. Or maybe next it'll be
me.
”

Sherwood just looked back and shrugged. “So maybe you oughta think on that advice,” he said. “There's a lotta people around here you've already managed to piss off. Let's start with the hospital. While we're at it, why not toss in the local police? See what I mean? No telling who might've done this. I can't just station a car. There wasn't even a direct threat made against your brother. In the meantime”—he held up the bag—“Detective Reyes will take this back. Not that I'm particularly hopeful they'll find anything.”

“How about Susan Pollack's DNA?”

“I thought you said the caller was a man.”

“So someone else is involved.” I fixed on him. “You can't keep ignoring this, Sherwood. Evan's death wasn't a suicide. You know it—I know it. Please, I'm begging you, station a car . . .”

He looked at me like his hands were tied.

“At least check Cooley and Greenway. You'll find something. I know you will. Please, Sherwood, just do it. You'll see.”