F Paul Wilson - Secret History 02 (42 page)

           
The more Ed read, the more he became
convinced that the psychiatrist was doing just that.

           
And then he heard the key slipping
into the lock on the outer door and turning.

           
Oh,
Jesus!

           
Ed slid from the chair and ducked
behind the desk, so terrified that he was sure he was going to wet his pants.
What was he going to—?

           
The
flashlight!

           
He popped his head up, saw it,
grabbed it, and dropped back down just as the lights went on. He crouched
there, holding his breath and praying, promising God that he'd start going back
to church every Sunday instead of just Christmas, Palm Sunday and Easter as he
did now. He was in the middle of promising to receive communion every Sunday
for the rest of his life, and trying to think of something else to promise,
when whoever it was who had come in walked straight through the waiting area
and into the consultation room, closing the door behind him.

           
Ed gave him thirty seconds. He
watched his Movado count them off one by one, then he rose to his feet and
tiptoed to the door. He unlocked it, slipped out into the hall, and eased it
closed behind him. He debated half a second about relocking it, then decided to
hell with it. He headed for the stairs at a brisk walk. It was all he could do
to keep from sprinting.

           
Rob was slipping into a doze when
his beeper went off. "What the hell—?" He got out of the car and went
to the booth on the corner. He called the precinct house and learned that Tommy
Doyle was looking for him.

           
"Been trying to reach you all
night, Harris. You on a plant or somethin'?"

           
"What is it, Tommy?" Rob
said, yawning.

           
"The print report you were
waiting for on that electric bill came in. They made a match on the third set
of prints."

           
Rob was suddenly wide awake.

           
"Anyone we know?"

           
"No name, but it matched the
partials they found in the hotel room on that Kelly Wade case you've been
hauling around."

           
Rob's insides tightened. He thought
he had been blowing the threat in the letter out of proportion to keep Kelly's
case open. But now there was a direct link to Kelly on the night she died. So
maybe this wasn't from a harmless kook. Maybe there was real danger to Kara.

           
"Thanks for finding me, Tom. I—damn!"

           
Someone in coveralls had just come
out of the Kramer building and had taken off down the street at a run. It
hadn't been Gates—too short, hair too dark.

           
Rob hung up and started after him,
but he was already out of sight, up one of the side streets. He was tempted to
follow, but that would leave Gates unattended. And Gates was the one he was
really interested in.

           
Rob returned to his car and settled
back with his eyes fixed on the entrance to the Kramer building.

           
Ed ducked into the first alley he
found and shucked his coverall. The February night air cut through his flannel
shirt but he didn't care. He wanted to be rid of that thing.

           
He hurried up to Sixth Avenue and
looked for a bar. A place called Edwin's beckoned from across the street. He
hurried over. It was dark and smoky and almost full. Perfect. He ordered a
double Absolut on the rocks. They didn't carry Citron, so he told the bartender
to squeeze a lime in it.

           
Sweet
Jesus, what a night!

           
Who'd have thought that Gates—he
assumed that had been Gates who'd come in—would return to his office after
midnight?

           
I
could have been caught
!

           
But he
hadn't
been caught. In and out with no one the wiser. He'd
done
it. His own
Mission Impossible
.

           
He sipped the drink and wondered
what to do with what he had learned. But
what
had he learned?

           
Why would a psychiatrist be
manufacturing medical histories for his patients? It didn't make sense, and he
didn't know what he could or should do about it. But one thing was for sure: He
had to tell Kara. And soon.

           
Why not now? She might be asleep,
but he had to unburden himself. He had to share what he had done and learned
with somebody else. He went to the pay phone and called her.

           
Her voice when she answered was
cautious but alert.

           
"It's me. Ed."

           
"Ed?" She almost sounded
as if she didn't know who he was.

           
"Yes. Look, I know it's late,
but I've just come across some really important things that I've got to tell
you about."

           
"Tonight? Now?"

           
"Yes. Can I come over?"

           
"I'm very tired, Ed. I don't
think—"

           
"It's about Dr. Gates."

           
There was a long pause on the other
end, then:

           
"What about Dr. Gates?"

           
"I've just learned something
about him. I think there's something funny going on."

           
"I'd very much like to hear
about this, Ed. Where are you?"

           
"In a dive on Sixth, but you
don't want to come here."

           
"Can I meet you someplace
convenient for both of us?"

           
Ed faced through a mental list of
places that would be comfortable for Kara and wouldn't turn him away in his
present state of dress.

           
"How about the bar at the
Warwick? It's on Fifty-fourth and Sixth, about halfway between us."

           
"I'll meet you there in half an
hour."

           
"Great."

           
Ed hung up and wondered why his
previous elation seemed to have faded. If anything, it should have been boosted
by the prospect of meeting Kara tonight. She'd certainly agreed readily enough
after he said it had to do with Dr. Gates, but she'd sounded strange. Distant.

           
Well, she'd said she was tired. It
had to be that.

           
He finished his drink and went out
to the street to see if he could find a late cruising cab, otherwise it was
going to be a long cold walk up to the Warwick.

           
Rob watched the entrance to the
Kramer building and pondered the identity of the owner of the third set of
prints on the electric bill. Whoever had left them had been in the Plaza with
Kelly on the night she died. He was getting closer. A key to the mess was
dancing somewhere beyond the edges of his consciousness, just past his reach.

           
He also wondered who had come out of
the building a while ago. That, too, gnawed at him. If only he'd been in his
car at the time, he would have had a better look. All Rob could say now was
that he'd carried a vague resemblance to that guy Ed who'd been hanging around
Kara.

           
Ed… there was a strange bird. Didn't
seem to be a threat. Actually seemed to be helping with the legal details. Nice
of him to bring over those estate papers for Kara on Thursday. Or maybe he had
the hots for her.

           
Rob jolted upright.

           
Thursday
!
Ed had been with Kara when she got that letter! He could have touched it. He
must
have touched it! He'd read it!

           
"Shit!"

           
And Ed had known Kelly! So he could
have been with her the night she died! He was the guy who could fill in all the
blanks.

           
Rob jumped out of the car and ran
back to the phone. He called Kara's number. If she knew where Ed lived, or even
had his home phone number, Rob could haul him in for questioning.
Now
!

           
As Kara's phone began to ring, Rob
glanced up at the Kramer building. Gates be damned! Let him doodle around up
there till sunrise. He could wait. This was the first real lead on this case
and he wasn't going to waste any time getting to it.

           
Kara's phone kept on ringing. And
ringing.

           
Tiny pulses of apprehension
scattered through him. He knew she was taking sleeping pills, but the phone was
right next to the bed. And he knew she was there— he'd spoken to her around
midnight.

           
Something was wrong.

           
He made a quick call to Doyle, told
him to pull the personal effects bag on Kelly Wade and have it ready, then he
ran for his car.

           
The Warwick bar was almost empty by
the time Ed finished telling Kara of his evening's exploits. He searched her
face for some sign of approval. It was slow coming, but finally a warm smile
lit her features.

           
"You did all that for me?"

           
"Well, yes. I felt I owed it to
you… and Kelly."

           
"But what if you'd been
caught?"

           
"That's a risk I was willing to
take. You've got to be ready to take a few risks or else life isn't worth
much."

           
Ed drained his third double vodka.
He was feeling pretty good. Damn good—about the night, about himself, about
being here in this almost deserted bar with Kara.

           
"What do you think I should do,
Ed? I'm so confused."