Murder Suicide (34 page)

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Authors: Keith Ablow

Tags: #Fiction, #Thrillers, #General, #Psychological

BOOK: Murder Suicide

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"Frank?" Theresa asked, confused and panicked.

"Forgive me for staging another drama at your expense."

"No one can testify to anything I told you," she protested. "You’re a psychiatrist. This is your office."

"But I’m not your psychiatrist. And this isn’t therapy. It’s a murder investigation."

Her eyes filled up. "Was it Kyle? Did he tell you?"

"He would never betray you. You were all he had all those years," Clevenger said. "It just didn’t make sense to me that he would give John’s gun to Collin. Your son ins much too perceptive for that. He wanted your husband dead. Collin’s only real motive for murder would be money, and he was worth a fortune, already. But, you — you would kill out of passion, out of jealousy, out of rage. You would kill for the same reasons as George Reese killed Grace. Because you couldn’t stand the thought of your partner being reborn. Not when you had lived so long in a marriage that was dead."

The door to the office opened. Coady walked in, cuffs in hand.

"I thought you understood me," Theresa said, sounding exquisitely vulnerable. "I thought... You don’t feel anything for me?"

"I do," Clevenger said. "I feel badly we didn’t actually meet as doctor and patient, before any of this ever happened. Maybe then you would have had a chance at real freedom. Instead of life behind bars."

* * *

Billy Bishop sat on the window seat, catty-corner to Clevenger’s desk. He had known in advance how the drama would unfold at Boston Police Headquarters.

"So who do you think blew up your truck?" he asked Clevenger.

"Ten-to-one, Kyle Snow," Clevenger said. "He had motive. He knows a little about explosives. But I can’t prove it."

"That’s the way I figure it, too," Billy said. "He helped get Grace Baxter and his father killed — and he nearly killed you. All because he hates himself. I can see it in his eyes. He’s gonna need more Oxycontin than ever."

"You’re getting good at this."

"Dr. Heller was pretty convincing in there. He can act."

"He has no plans to quit his day job. He told me he’s taking a week off, then he’s got a very big case scheduled. Another little girl — this one with a tumor."

Billy winced. "You think he’ll be steady enough?"

"He’ll pull himself together," Clevenger said. "John Snow’s case is closed, partly due to him — and you."

Billy looked like he had something important to say that he couldn’t quite put into words.

"I’m sure you could scrub in with him, if you want," Clevenger said. "He loves having you in the O.R. I certainly don’t mind."

"I wasn’t thinking about Dr. Heller."

Clevenger waited.

"I talked to Casey about the baby," Billy said. "Late last night."

Talk about no transition. Clevenger wanted to help him keep perspective. "Like I told you, it’s still too early to know whether she’s really going to want to have it," he said.

"I know that," Billy said. "But I told her it was all right if she did."

Clevenger couldn’t think of a quick response.

"I mean, it’s a person, right?" Billy went on. "Or it has the potential to be. So if she loves it already, I’m not gonna be the one to force her to do something she doesn’t want to, something she might regret the rest of her life."

That sounded admirable. It also sounded like the first step on a very long, very tough road. "Sounds like you love this girl," Clevenger said.

Billy actually blushed, looked at his feet for a second, then back at Clevenger. "Did you call Whitney?"

"Not yet."

Billy nodded. "I’ll see you at the loft." He stood up.

Clevenger stood up, too.

They hugged, holding on a few seconds longer than the mannish touch-and-go that was their habit.

Billy left.

Clevenger sat back down. He stared at the phone ten, fifteen seconds before picking up the receiver. He dialed Whitney McCormick in D.C. And he listened to her phone ring once, twice, three times.

"Hello?" she answered.

"It’s Frank."

Silence.

He looked out his window at Chelsea Harbor, deep blue and frothy from a steady winter wind. "I don’t want to let it — to let us — end." He could hear breathing, but she didn’t answer him. "I think we should try to spend more time together, not less. Because when you meet someone who makes you feel like you could be more than you are, it’s a rare thing. I really believe that now. It’s a one-in-a-million. And I think we have that." Still no response. He sighed. "Or we did."

"We do," she said.

Clevenger closed his eyes. "I want to see you."

"Give me a little while?"

"Of course I will," He opened his eyes.

"And I think we better try the Ritz," she said. "Start our own tradition."

—
THE END
—

Table of Contents

Title page

Prologue