The Advocate (The Advocate Series) (18 page)

Sabre walked into his office and extended her hand, “Good afternoon, Dr. Vincent.”

“Hi, Sabre. Thanks for taking the time to meet with me.” He looked up and his gaze went to the bandage on her forehead. “What happened to you?”

“Long story,” she said as she sat down in front of his desk. “What can I do for you, Doctor?”

Dr. Vincent, appearing impressed with her direct manner, got right to the point. “Well, you’re aware of the situation we have here with Carla and Dr. Steele. So far, we’ve averted any further problems. Dr. Hilton has been gracious enough to continue to help out in Dr. Steele’s stead, but he can’t for very long. We need Dr. Steele to come back to work. Although, I’m concerned about the trauma it will cause Carla. Dr. Steele is an excellent doctor and it’s difficult to find doctors of his caliber, but he agrees we can’t risk the damage to Carla. I think I may have a solution, one very beneficial to Carla.”

Sabre listened, hoping he wasn’t going to suggest Carla be moved. She knew it would devastate Carla. “What are you proposing, Doctor?”

“Well, we don’t know how long it’ll take, but Dr. Hilton is willing to fill in for as long as he can and Dr. Steele has agreed to work with us. But I’ll need your help also.”

“I’ll do whatever I can,” Sabre said.

“Here’s what I propose. I believe we can help Carla deal with reality by bringing Dr. Steele into therapy with her. I’ll make sure she’s fully prepared beforehand. As she gets to know him, she’ll see lots of similarities, but she’ll also begin to see the differences. I don’t think it’ll take too long before he can fill his role as doctor. Once he’s back here working, it’ll help her even further to realize he’s not Ron. The first sessions will be rough on her, though, and I’d like you to be there for her. She trusts you and draws strength from you. I think it’ll help her to see reality through your behavior.”

“You really think so?”

“I do. Carla was pretty well-grounded before this happened. Oh, she had a way to go, but this is the last big piece we need to deal with. I think it may be a blessing in disguise. She may even be able to build on it and restore some peace of mind. I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think it would be helpful. As much as I respect Dr. Steele, we can always hire another doctor. There’s only one Carla. More importantly, if we don’t deal with this and she happens to meet him on a street somewhere, we could lose her.”

“So when do we start?”

“I need a little time to prepare her. I’ll have to see how it goes. My guess is we should be ready in a week or so. I want to start as quickly as we can, but I want to make sure she’s ready. By the way, do you have a photo of Ron I could borrow for a little while?”

Sabre reached in her briefcase and pulled out a photo. Without speaking, she handed it to Dr. Vincent. “Wow! They do look alike, don’t they?”

“I thought so.” Sabre stood up to leave. “You’ll let me know, then, when you want to begin?”

“Yes, we’ll be in touch. Thanks for your help . . . and for the photo.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I only want what’s best for Carla.”

“Me, too, and we’re going to do whatever we can.”

Sabre had just enough time to drive to her appointment with Dr. Steele. Seeing him still felt strange, but it was getting easier. Just as Dr. Vincent had hoped to accomplish with Carla, Sabre now saw more differences and fewer similarities.

Dr. Steele greeted her with a smile when she walked in. “Hi, Sabre, how’s the head?”

“I think it’s a little better today, but I’ve had some awful headaches since I left the hospital.”

“Let me have a look.” He examined the gash on her head, changed the bandage, looked into her eyes, and asked a lot of questions.

He had an exceptional bedside manner, easy to trust and talk with. She suddenly felt very comfortable in his presence, but was her comfort zone about Ron or Dr. Steele? She tried to separate the two.

Her thoughts were interrupted by another question, “Have you had any blurred vision or been seeing any spots?”

“No.”

“Good. You’re going to be fine. Just let me know if you have any of the symptoms we talked about or if the headaches don’t go away in a few days.” His manner was so “not Ron” that for a moment she could see Dr. Steele. He said, “Go ahead and get dressed.”

Her brow wrinkled, “I am dressed. That was my head you examined.”

He chuckled. “Just a little doctor humor.” Ron had returned, always the tease. If Sabre couldn’t separate Ron and Dr. Steele, how would Carla?

“I went to see Carla and Dr. Vincent today. He said you’re willing to help Carla through this crisis. That’s really nice of you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a nice guy,” he said, the sides of his mouth turning up in just the slightest of smiles. His dead-pan look returned. “I just hope it works for her. Dr. Vincent asked me to read her file, to become familiar with her behavior and her history. He’s really concerned about what might happen to her if she accidentally runs into me. She already had a glimpse, nearly setting her over the edge . . . and look at your reaction.”

Sabre, still a little embarrassed said, “I’m so sorry about that. I must’ve looked pretty ridiculous chasing you down the hall, barging into the room and then, the kicker – fainting.”

“Hey, don’t be silly.” He smiled. “I’m used to it. It happens to me three, four times a day. It must be my dashing good looks and my charming personality.”

Sabre forced a smile. She wanted him to stop joking, to be serious. She didn’t like it when she saw Ron in him. She wanted to see Dr. Steele. When he teased, it just made her tense and confused. She’d have to overcome this, or she’d never be able to help Carla. “Well, I appreciate your willingness to help. I’m sorry for any inconvenience it’s causing you with your work at the facility.”

“Don’t worry. Dr. Hilton understands and is willing to help out. And there are others who can pitch in temporarily. I have plenty of doctor friends who owe me favors.”

“I’m sorry you have to call them in for this.”

“Don’t be. I can’t think of a better cause.” For just a second, there was silence. Dr. Steele had a blank look as he studied her face. Suddenly, he stopped staring, stood up, closed his file, and said, “Make an appointment to come back in a week. I want to check the wound.”

Sabre arose to leave. “Thank you, Dr. Steele.”

“Corbin. The name’s Corbin. My father is Dr. Steele.”

18

Joe picked up the notepad he had obtained from Steve’s house. He opened it up to the page that read in big letters, “STERLING,” underlined twice, the way Steve often wrote the case name on which he was working. He read through the notes. As usual, Steve had left a few pages at the beginning he had titled “Suspects.” He would always write down names as he came across them and later go back and fill in the reasons why he thought they may or may not be involved as he proceeded with his investigation. The rest of his notes read like a diary, which made it easy to follow and included a lot of detail. He used to tell Joe to write everything down. “You never know when some little thing will trigger something. The thing appearing to be the most irrelevant often turns out to be the key to what you’re looking for.”

Joe read through the “Suspects” section with the usual suspects listed. There were friends and family members, including Gaylord Murdock and Ruby Sterling.

Ruby Sterling: Nervous old lady. Not likely involved, but may know more than she’s telling.

Gaylord Murdock:
Nothing pointing to him
–
no abuse, no history, his whereabouts well accounted for. Could’ve hired it done. Has the means but no obvious motive.

Elizabeth Sterling:
Could’ve run off with another man, but no evidence of it. Not likely she’d leave without the kid. No one saw her at the gym that morning. Her mother the last one to report seeing her.

Then amongst the notes he read:

July 9: Bill anxious to put this to bed, not sure why. I’m following up by myself tomorrow.

Then a lot more entries about people he had talked to, mostly dead ends.

July 14: Bill seems upset about the time I’ve spent on this case.

July 17: Bill spoke to contact claiming to be friend of Elizabeth’s. He says she left with another man and doesn’t want to be found. Bill wants to close case. He says we have more important cases to spend our time on. I don’t like the smell.

July 19: Went alone to the gym and discovered a locker with a few of Elizabeth’s belongings
–
change of clothes, hair brush, toothbrush, toothpaste, workout journal, and a small folded piece of paper inside journal with a poem.

Joe continued to read what Steve had written:

Just a poem? A riddle, perhaps? What does it mean? Maybe nothing.

Steve had written the words on the notepad, along with the note itself tucked inside. It read:

Color, a pretty, bright red

In the darkness, toward the light;

Circling, circling the head

Blinding speed, causing sheer fright.

The hand-written letters were flawless. Joe held the note up and stretched his arm out to distance it from his face. At just an arm’s length, he could swear it had been typed. With his own handwriting so bad, he marveled at how someone could write so perfectly. As he pulled the note closer, again reassuring himself it had been hand written, he noticed an indentation across the bottom edge of the paper. Joe picked up a pencil, turned it sideways, and shaded across the indentation, revealing a telephone number. He wrote the number down and continued to read through Steve’s notes.

Steve ran into a lot of dead ends, but still continued to follow up on a few items. He had scheduled an appointment for July 20th to see someone who called himself “John Doe.” On July 21st, the only entry in his notepad read,
Dirty Cop???

Joe picked up the phone and called the number he’d lifted off the paper in Steve’s notepad, only to find it disconnected. He decided to call Howard Martin, an FBI agent from Dallas, whose life Joe had saved on a case a few years back. He was so appreciative of Joe he told him repeatedly to call if he ever needed anything. They had little contact afterward except that every year, without exception, Joe received a birthday card.

Joe spun his rolodex to the M’s, found “Martin, Howard,” and dialed the number. They exchanged pleasantries and took a few minutes to catch up. Then, Howard made the offer, “So, is there something I can do for you, Joe?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. I have an old phone number from about five years ago. It’s disconnected now, but I need to know who it belonged to back then. Can you run it for me? The phone company is so frustrating, and I don’t want it going through Atlanta PD.”

“No explanation necessary. Anything else?”

Joe, hesitant to bring up Davis, knew it would be difficult to find out much about him locally without causing a lot of suspicion. “There is one more thing.”

“Name it.”

“Will you see what you can find out about William Davis? He’s been with our department for about thirty years. I don’t want to be asking too many questions here.”

“I understand. I’ll try to have something for you by tomorrow morning. Is that soon enough?”

“That would be great. Thanks, Howard.”

“Anytime,” Howard said. “I mean it. Thanks to you, I’m alive. That incident in Atlanta was my last undercover job. My face had been out there too long, and I have two little boys who need their father. I’m just not willing to risk it anymore.” Before he hung up, he inquired, “Joe, are you in any danger?”

“Not as far as I know, at least not yet. I’m still working on a hunch.”

“Okay, but be careful. It’s dangerous when your enemy is close.”

Joe hung up the phone and went down to records to see if the Sterling file had turned up, but it hadn’tt. He needed to find out what Steve referred to when he wrote “dirty cop.” He surmised it was Bill, his partner, although it could’ve been anyone. He thought it a good place to start, but he had to be careful. Questioning another cop’s loyalty could get you ostracized quickly. He didn’t know Bill very well, although he seemed nice enough. He always smiled and greeted him when their paths crossed. Joe had spoken to him just a few weeks back when he had first looked at the Sterling file.

Joe approached his desk and stood there as Bill finished a phone call. “Hi, Carriage. What can I do for you?” Bill motioned toward the chair, “Have a seat.”

Joe sat down. “Remember a few weeks ago I asked you about the Sterling case?”

“Yeah, you still messing with that?”

“Yeah. I’m trying to help the kid’s attorney. Social Services removed the child from Murdock and now it’s looking like they’re going to return her, but there’ve been some strange things happening to her attorney.”