Expectation (Ghost Targets, #2) (9 page)

Katie rose as well, but before she could say goodbye, Reed spoke in her ear. "Katie, I've got news. Don't leave the Barneses' place."

Katie waited for more, but Reed was gone. She cleared her throat to cover her sudden hesitation, then she stepped forward, close to the other woman. "Umm...Mrs. Barnes, I understand your position. When I first arrived, though, you made another offer. If that still stands, I would like to take you up on it. There may be something we can do without medical access, and the more I know about your husband, the better job I can do." Theresa hesitated, and Katie shrugged. "So much of his life has been lost behind that curtain."

"It's true," Mrs. Barnes said with a sad sigh. She gave another moment's hesitation, and then a fragile smile. "Sure," she said. "You've already got my whole morning booked. I'll share my memories with you."

Katie smiled, then put on an embarrassed expression. "If I could just visit your restroom first?"

"Of course. It's just through there." She pointed the way, down a short hall that led to an old garage. "On the right."

Katie slipped in and shut the door behind her, then whispered, "Okay, Reed. Go ahead. What have you got?"

It was a moment before he answered, then he said, "Yeah, sorry, you there Katie?"

"Here, sir."

"Good. Listen, I'm still waiting to meet with the lieutenant here, but his assistant has been talking some gossip with me, and apparently Barnes was involved in a liaison with his liaison."

Katie's jaw dropped. An image of the doctor flashed in her mind, and she could certainly understand the attraction, even without his prestige. She sought in her memory for the army liaison's name. "Cohn?"

"That's her," Reed said. "It all would have happened at the clinic, so it was completely off the record, but apparently she wasn't too careful about whom she bragged to."

"That sounds like a short path to reassignment, if not an outright court martial," Katie said.

"Maybe." Reed sounded distracted. "I don't know about that, but apparently Barnes was a real handful, and this Cohn was the first liaison he was willing to work with, long before they started fooling around. So when they did, the higher-ups turned something of a blind eye."

"That's certainly an interesting tidbit."

"It's more motive, Katie. I know you don't like the wife for a suspect—"

"Well, she's really not doing anything to help me there," Katie grumbled.

"Regardless," Reed said. "If she learned about the affair, that could give a lot of credibility to Dora's theory of the crime." He paused, probably working on his handheld, and then said, "It's hard to get all the right readings without a Jurisprudence crime profile, but I've got one commercial personality report pegging your girl as the jealous type. We're pursuing this angle, Katie, so I need you to get on board. And I need you to get us medical access—"

"That's not going to happen." Katie shut him down. "She has agreed to talk with me about her husband, but the medical access is off the table."

Reed thought for a moment, then sighed. "If that's how it is, then you're going to have to get her to reveal something damning enough to take to a judge. I've already checked, and the affair alone is not enough. They want a Jurisprudence confidence, and I just can't rig that." He sighed. "I need you to break her."

Before Katie could object, he forestalled her. "I know it sucks. She's practically a widow, and you're not even convinced she did it. But it's all part of the job, Katie. Just remember that, one way or another, she brought this on herself. Confront her with Cohn, get her to talk, and even if it's something inadmissible at trial, it could be enough to convince a judge to give us access to the victim's medical records. Once we know what we're looking for...."

"It's not right, Reed." She sounded petulant, and she hated that, but he'd backed her into a corner. She could remember all too clearly the war of emotions raging in Theresa's eyes, and none of them had seemed much like jealousy. She was a woman deeply in love with her idealized image of her husband. "I've been talking to her all morning, and she's not a killer. She's grief-stricken. Her husband is gone, and you want me to attack her."

"Katie." He dropped his voice to a fierce whisper, still strong in her ear. "I've got a good feel for this guy from his assistant, and I don't think we're going to get anything out of the army. I really shouldn't even know about the liaison, but I caught a lucky break. If you can't get that woman to give us access to her husband's medical records, we have to push through her. There's no getting around these guys."

"All she has left is her memory of him," Katie answered back, in just as furious a whisper. "She clings to it. I know you like your info as motive, but what if she didn't know. What if she never found out? You want me to march in there and tell her he was—"

"I want you do to your job," Reed said. "Because if she did know, if she did find out, then that could well have driven her to something next to murder. Maybe she's not a killer; maybe that's why he's still alive, even if it takes million-dollar machines to keep him that way. But, Katie, if she did this, she has to be brought to justice for it." Katie didn't get a chance to answer that. Reed said, "Okay, Katie, I've got to go. Lieutenant's ready for me. Good luck." Then he was gone.

Katie's heart pounded, her jaw clenched tight. She blinked in the sudden silence and then took a moment to collect herself. She checked the message center on her handheld, then put it away. Nothing new. She stepped up to the sink and washed her hands, trying to avoid eye contact with the troubled woman in the mirror. She took a deep breath and let it out in a tired sigh. Then she left the bathroom, but she found the kitchen empty.

Theresa's voice came drifting from the living room. "In here. Sorry."

Katie stepped through the doorway and found Mrs. Barnes perched on the couch. She had her feet tucked up under her, leaning to her right, and Katie couldn't help remembering the short time she'd spent in HaRRE, spying on Eric at home. The memory of him she'd seen would have been sitting right beside Theresa now, propping her up, her shoulder resting lightly on his chest, while he watched the now-dark TV. Katie could see the happy family clearly. She sighed.

Theresa seemed to pick up a hint of Katie's mood. She sighed, too, and looked around the room. "This was Eric's favorite place. As much time as he spent at the clinic, he loved it here. He loved this whole house, but this spot especially." She stared at the fire for a while, lost in her memories, then looked over her shoulder at Katie with a tight smile. "Come on," she said, and patted the cushion next to her, opposite the ghost of her husband. "Grab a seat. We'll reminisce."

Katie had to force herself to take that first step forward. Once she was moving it was a little easier, and when she came abreast of the couch she saw the photo album open on Theresa's lap. Not a digital photobook, but an old-fashioned album full of developed pictures, carefully arranged on decorative backgrounds. Katie's mom had kept books like that, years ago. With a sense of mingled fascination and dread, Katie sank down next to Mrs. Barnes. "What's this?"

"It's our wedding album," she said. There must have been forty pages, thick plastic covers bound together in a three-ring binder with a three-inch spine. She flipped all the way to the back of it. "Our first year, really. This is the last time he was really mine." Three pages from the back of the book was a two-page spread showing a younger, softer Eric receiving his doctorate at Princeton, and then sometime later shaking hands with an army officer in dress uniform. By the background, Katie was ready to guess the second picture was taken on a military base, probably the one right here in town. Below that, in the bottom right corner, was a photo of a huge empty room, cabinets lining the walls. Katie stared at it for a moment, and Theresa watched her. It was a single floor with no tables, but the size was just about right. She caught Theresa watching her eyes.

"Is that the clinic?"

Mrs. Barnes nodded. "Seventeen years ago. Before they expanded it to put in Eric's track. I used to have a photo of the grounds outside, too, and that was before the processing center went up on the northwest corner. It was a rose garden back then, that whole corner."

Her breath caught, and she shook her head.

Katie said, "How did you get those photos?"

"I took them with my phone. Do you remember—" She stopped with a tight smile, and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Sorry. That was way before Gevia. I still wasn't
supposed
 to take pictures, but I was sneaky, and they weren't quite as careful back then."

Katie turned the page and found a handful of photos of young Eric at work. Most of them showed him sitting in front of a computer monitor in a tiny home office in a much smaller house, wire-rim glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. One had him in the cramped living room, walls done in garish old-lady wallpaper, but sprawled on the same couch Katie and Theresa shared now. In the photo he had open books and bound papers all around him, filling the couch from one end to the other and crowding around him on the floor, too. An old laptop computer sat open on his knees. His head lolled back, though, and his jaw hung comically open. He was sound asleep. Katie snorted in surprised laughter.

"I bet he loved that picture," she said.

"He didn't mind too much," Theresa said, the warm honey of admiration rich in her voice. "That's the night he completed the cancer vaccine. He went to work the next day and finished the formula. It hasn't changed since then."

Katie looked at the picture again, trying to grasp the man's genius. "He was amazing," she said softly.

"He was," Theresa agreed. "And he still is, Agent Pratt." Katie blushed at the rebuke in the other woman's voice. "He's not dead. He's alive, in his bed. No, he can't speak with us, he can't...can't come home. Home." She stammered, and wiped away tears again. "But he isn't dead."

Katie held up her hands to calm her. "Mrs. Barnes—"

"No," she said, leaping to her feet. She paced the carpet, right in front of the couch. "His
mind
 is alive, Agent Pratt, and that's what matters. For some men that wouldn't be true, but Eric...that's all he needs. I don't care if it takes machines to eat and breathe for him. As long as his brain is working, he's every bit the man he was."

"I understand that, Theresa—"

"I don't think you do!" The other woman stopped pacing, right in front of Katie, and towered over her. "Because you're here investigating his murder. You won't say that, not out loud, but that's what you're doing, and that's what kills me. You, and that pompous police chief, and even the army doctors. You're all acting like he's dead—"

"Have you seen the army doctors' report?" Katie said, soft but firm. "It's light on the details, Mrs. Barnes, but they made it pretty clear his chances of coming out of this—"

"It doesn't matter!" Theresa shouted. She fell back down on the couch beside Katie and buried her face in her hands. "He's him!" she wailed. "I can't just forget that. Maybe he's dreaming. Maybe he's making up new stories, or maybe he's still toiling away, fixing all the strange infirmities of man. Whatever it is he's doing, he's
alive
, and I can't just forget that." She let out a tortured breath. "You can't imagine what a nightmare it is to live like that, with someone you love so close and yet completely out of reach."

A cruel silence fell, and after some time Katie broke it with a quaking voice. "Actually," she said, then stopped to take a deep breath. "I can." She waited a second for Theresa to look up, curious, and then Katie nodded to her. "My dad has been in a coma for several years now. I understand what you're going through."

"How...." She shook her head, a desperate look in her eyes. "How do you deal with it?"

"Me?" Katie barked a bitter laugh. "Not well. I spend about half my time wishing my mother would just let him go, and the other half of my time on the phone with him pretending nothing's wrong."

Theresa looked away, unable to meet Katie's eyes, and Katie knew she was thinking about the first of her reactions. It sounded cruel when she said it out loud, but keeping him alive wasn't doing anyone any good. She placed a hand on Theresa's arm. "It's not the same situation. Your husband is special—"

"No more than your father is to you, Agent Pratt. Or to your mother." She took a deep breath and let it go, then made herself meet Katie's eyes. "We have two children. A son and a daughter." Katie nodded. She'd read that in the casefile. "Jim was here for ten days. Rose was only here for two. They couldn't stand to see him like that."

"I was the same way, with my dad. I kept saying I had pressing work, but...I just couldn't handle it." She leaned closer. "It gets better, though. Give them time. They'll come back."

"I know." She gave a shuddering sigh, and then a pathetic smile. "I'm sorry, Agent Pratt. I haven't really had anyone—"

"I understand." Katie sat back, remembering Reed's stern orders, and she shook her head. "This isn't fair, Mrs. Barnes. It's not right that you and your children should have to go through this. I intend to do everything in my power to find out who is responsible."

"Eric would laugh you out of the room for saying that." She rose and went across the room to fetch some tissues from a low shelf and came back dabbing at her eyes. "Bodies are imperfect machines, Agent Pratt. Even with all the advances we've made, bodies still have flaws, and trying to place blame for mechanical failures—"

Katie shook her head. "My dad fell into a coma because of a rookie doctor's stupid mistake. He had heart problems, and they put him under for a surgical procedure—this was years ago—and then, when the surgery was over, he didn't wake up. He just never woke up." It was Katie's turn to rise now, agitated. "That was a medical error. He was already an old man, and something about the sedative damaged his brain beyond what it could recover. I can guarantee you, there's nothing like that in your husband's case. It would have made it into the army report." She gestured emphatically. "They want this done with, Mrs. Barnes, and if they could put the matter to rest, they would. The fact that they haven't.... Theresa, there has to be something more going on here."