Detective Rhoades’s frown deepened. “Where do you think Max is?”
“I don’t know.”
“You have no idea?”
“No.”
Detective Rhoades paused, his eyes narrowing. “I’m not going to play footsie with you. A young girl is dead. Murdered. I looked her parents in the eye, nice people, they were beside themselves, grief-stricken, trying to understand why their daughter was killed walking through a nice, safe park behind their house, choked to death.”
“She was choked?” Eric kept his expression neutral, trying not to betray the shock he felt. Renée had been strangled, just like Max had obsessed over.
“Yes, no signs of a ligature, just bare hands. Their dog came running home alone, that’s how the parents knew something was wrong. The father had gone to work, but the mother hadn’t left yet. Her name is Margaret, a nurse. She went to the park and found her daughter, lying there dead. She called 911, hysterical.”
Eric didn’t say anything. His throat constricted, his chest felt tight. He prayed to God that Max hadn’t killed Renée.
“I told her parents that I’m going to find whoever killed her and lock him up. Nothing makes me madder than somebody like you, who might be able to help me find that killer, but who won’t. Who refuses to help. Who doesn’t care about justice.”
“It’s the law,” Eric said, stricken.
“It’s a technicality.”
“I don’t make the law.”
“You live around here, so you know that we don’t get a lot of murders, less than a handful in the ten years I’ve been here. And I will level with you, it feels horrible. It feels horrible to lose a human life. It feels horrible to see a young girl lying facedown like that.” Detective Rhoades clenched and unclenched his jaw. “I’m never going to get that sight out of my mind. That’s got to stay with me forever, like a brand.”
“Yes.” Eric realized that his wasn’t the only profession with a case you couldn’t forget, the Ghost.
“There is nothing more important to me or to this department right now than locking up that girl’s killer. You follow me?”
“Yes.”
“So? You’re not going to come clean?”
“I’ve done what I can.”
“I’m trying to get justice for that girl. Doesn’t that matter to you?”
“I’m not stopping you from getting justice for her, and we could be out looking for Max. I’m telling you he’s a suicide risk.”
“But you won’t tell me why.”
“Yes, I did, and I told the police last night too. He was very close to his grandmother and she died yesterday. He’s been missing since then.”
“You won’t answer my questions.”
“I’ve answered the ones I can.”
“Fine, two can play that game. Now I’m going to tell you what I can.” Detective Rhoades leaned over, his eyes newly hard. “I know that last night you visited Renée Bevilacqua at the frozen yogurt place she worked at. I have two witnesses who placed you there and they told me you talked to her.”
Eric felt his stomach flip. He flashed on the girls last night. Trixie at the toppings, the other one at the cash register. The police would have gone there today. The girls would have told them everything.
“I also know that you followed Renée home last night. I have your car on three different street cameras, from her work to her house.”
Eric thought of the drive. Of course there would be traffic-light cameras, all kinds of cameras.
“I know that you were parked on her street around midnight. I have an eyewitness who placed you there, and your car was positively identified by a member of the town watch.”
Eric thought of the man who had stopped him on the cul-de-sac. The man had even mentioned the town watch.
Detective Rhoades bore down. “That means you were the last person to see Renée alive.”
“So?” Eric recoiled, aghast. “You can’t believe I had something to do with her murder. Are you serious? That’s absurd!”
“The coroner is performing the autopsy as we speak, but he places time of death between seven and nine in the morning. Where were you at that time?”
“I was getting ready for work,” Eric shot back, incredulous.
“You live alone, and unless you were sleeping with somebody, you can’t corroborate your alibi.”
Eric’s mouth dropped open. “What alibi? It’s not an alibi, I don’t need an alibi!”
“You had time to kill Renée and still get to the hospital.”
“Of course I didn’t kill her.” Eric couldn’t believe the words coming out of his own mouth. It was surreal. “I would never do such a thing.”
“Then why were you following her?”
Eric wanted to tell, but he couldn’t breach confidentiality to that extent. “I can’t answer that.”
“Why did you go in the store to talk to her?”
“I can’t answer that.” Eric felt stricken, remembering that he had pretended that he had a daughter who went to SAT tutoring. The girls in the shop must have told the police that, too.
“Did you wait for her to get off work?”
“Yes.” Eric could answer that because it had to do with his actions, not something that Max had told him in session.
“Why were you waiting for her?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“You can, but you won’t!” Detective Rhoades slammed his heavy hand on the table, with a bang. “Then who killed her? Are you telling me Max Jakubowski killed her?”
“No, I’m not.” Eric felt his throat catch. It was exactly the inference to be drawn from his words, but it wasn’t his intent. “I’m telling you that you need to find Max before he kills himself.”
“Don’t try to deflect. We’ll run down that lead, but right now, you’re my guy.”
“No, that’s not possible.” Eric’s mouth had gone bone dry.
“Why did you stalk her?”
“I didn’t.”
“How did you even know her?”
“I didn’t, I told you that.”
“Then why did you tell her you had a daughter her age—when you have a little girl?”
“I can’t answer that.” Eric felt his face aflame.
“It was a lie, wasn’t it? It’s not true.”
“I didn’t kill her or anybody, I swear it.” Eric thought of what Laurie had said on the phone about a lawyer. “I’m not answering any more questions without a lawyer.”
Detective Pagano rose, walking over to Detective Rhoades with a frown. “Jerry, take it easy, buddy.”
“I’m fine, Joe.” Detective Rhoades glanced at his partner, then returned his attention to Eric as he reached inside the breast pocket of his sport jacket, pulled out some papers, and tossed them onto the table. “This is a search warrant. Your home is being searched right now and so is your office at the hospital.”
“What?” Eric said, outraged. “Wait. You can’t do that.”
“Yes, we can.”
“But there are patient files, medical information protected by HIPAA—”
“We won’t search patient files. They’re not in the scope of the warrant. Read it.” Detective Rhoades stabbed the warrant with his finger. “We’re also in the process of impounding your car from the hospital parking lot.”
Eric gasped. “Why do you want my car?”
“Why do you think?” Detective Rhoades slid a Kleenex tissue from his breast pocket and used it to grab Eric’s phone from the table. “By the way, I’m confiscating this.”
“But you can’t! I didn’t do anything.”
“I’m taking your clothes, too.” Detective Rhoades motioned to Eric’s chest. “You’ll be changing under the supervision of two uniformed officers, so the chain of custody stays intact.”
“I want to call a lawyer, right now.”
“Fine, we’ll shut off the camera. Talk here.” Detective Rhoades grabbed the landline from the table and banged it in front
of Eric. “And say hi to your wife for me.”
Chapter Thirty-five
Eric waited until Detectives Rhoades and Pagano had left the room to pick up the receiver of the landline. He didn’t know what Detective Rhoades had meant by the last remark, this was an emergency and she was an expert, who might also have an in with Detective Rhoades. Eric pressed in the numbers of her cell phone and she picked up immediately.
“Caitlin Parrish, Assistant D.A.”
“Caitlin, it’s Eric.”
“Eric?” Caitlin asked, angry. “I never would have answered if I knew it was you. My caller ID says Radnor Police Department.”
“I know, that’s where I am. This is going to sound crazy, but they think I’m involved with the murder of a young girl, Renée Bevilacqua. I don’t know if you heard about it—”
“What? Of course I heard about it. The whole office is in a tizzy. Jason and Michaela are all over it, and I think the brass is giving a press conference today.”
“Well, there are two detectives questioning me, and one is named Jerry Rhoades. I think he knows you. They’re searching my house and office. They want to confiscate my clothes.”
“What are you talking about?” Caitlin asked, incredulous. “That’s what they do to suspects.”
“They think I’m a suspect.”
“That’s not possible. Is this some kind of joke?”
“No, it’s real, but it’s crazy.” Eric took heart, not completely surprised that Caitlin was able to put her personal feelings aside and understand the seriousness of the situation.
“They really think you’re a suspect? You?”
“Ridiculous, right? One of my private patients might be a suspect, but I can’t tell them anything because of confidentiality.” Eric knew she would understand what he meant, because even with their pillow talk, they kept certain things confidential, about each other’s professions.
“So what are you going to do?”
“I need a criminal lawyer, or maybe you could call Detective Rhoades and tell him that this whole thing is ridiculous. Or can you talk to somebody in your office?” Eric remembered that Caitlin always got along great with the higher-ups. “Talk to Bob or Scott, one of the bosses. I mean, talk sense into somebody. Tell them that I would never commit a murder—”
“Wait. Just so I understand. So you’re at the station now and you need a criminal lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“And you want me to talk to Rhoades or my boss for you?”
“Yes, please. I would really appreciate it.”
“Tell you what, Eric.” Caitlin paused. “I’d love to help you out, but I’m too busy dealing with the custody petition you filed against me this morning.”
“Caitlin, look, I know you’re pissed, but—”
“Pissed?” Caitlin raised her voice, her tone turning frosty. “Pissed doesn’t begin to describe how I felt when I opened that email and saw my own name on the caption. I’ve been wishing awful things on you ever since. I can’t even work for how distracted I am, how furious I am at you for suing me for custody.”
Eric should’ve known. He should never have called her, no matter what Detective Rhoades had said. She was a human being, and she was angry, hurt, and a lot of other emotions that weren’t working in his favor right now. “Caitlin, please listen—”
“You want my help? Ha! Fat chance. You’re a suspect in the investigation of the Bevilacqua murder and you want me to make some calls for you? Stick my neck out for you? Pull some strings? Engage in a potential conflict of interest, after what you’re trying to do?”
Eric could hear she was just warming up. He didn’t even try to interrupt her.
“You want me to call Detective Rhoades and vouch for you? I’m laughing my ass off. Let me tell you something about Detective Rhoades, I can give you the inside scoop. Would you like to know something about Detective Rhoades?”
“Yes,” Eric answered, though he gathered the question was rhetorical.
“He’s one of the smartest detectives working the job. He looks kinda like a bulldog, doesn’t he? They call him Dog, short for bulldog. That’s his nickname. You know why? Hint—it’s not because he looks like one.”
Eric’s stomach did a backflip. Meanwhile, he hadn’t realized it before, but Detective Rhoades did kind of look like a bulldog.
“How else can I help you, Eric? You want me to call one of my buddies in the criminal defense bar and get you out of this situation you’ve gotten yourself into? I’ll send you a lawyer, all right. I’ll send you the worst criminal lawyer I know.”
“Caitlin, I get it.”
“Good. Bye.” The phone went dead.
Eric inhaled stiffly, trying to figure out whom to call next. He needed a lawyer and he was concerned about his patient files at the hospital, so it made sense to call Mike Braezele in Legal. Eric pressed in the hospital’s main number. The phone rang once and was picked up by an operator, then he asked to be put through, and the call was answered after a few clicks.
“Legal Department,” said a businesslike female voice, which Eric recognized as Dee Dee’s.
“Dee, it’s Eric Parrish. Is Mike there?”
“Oh my God, Eric,” Dee Dee said, instantly concerned. “Are you okay? What’s going on? I heard there were cops in your office.”
“I know. Can I speak to Mike?”
“He’s not here. He’s on your unit with Brad and Tom.”
“Can you transfer me?” Eric visualized the scene, sickened. He could imagine Amaka and the shocked staff, standing by helplessly while the unit was invaded by police. He prayed it didn’t destabilize the patients and that Perino didn’t have another violent break.
“Sure, yes, hold on.”
“Thanks, will do.” Eric waited on hold until there was a click on the phone as it was picked up.
“Eric, what the hell?”
“Mike, they’re on the unit?”
“Yes, it’s unreal!” Mike sounded shocked, which Eric had expected.
“Are they in the file room?”
“No, there’s six cops, swarming all over your office. Going through your drawers, putting your things in boxes. They took your computer!”
“Put the unit in lockdown, Mike.”
“We did, right away. What’s going on? This is insanity!”
“It’s a long story.” Eric’s doctor-patient confidentiality extended to everyone, even Mike, and he didn’t have time to explain now anyway. “Can we stop them, legally? I don’t want them going through any patient files. We don’t have to let them do that, do we?”
“No, that’s not an issue. Patient files aren’t within the scope of the warrant.”
“What does that mean, ‘scope of the warrant’?” Eric remembered that Detective Rhoades had used the same term.
“I’m not going to give you a lecture on the search and seizure clause of the Fourth Amendment, Eric. Are you involved in this murder case? Is that true?”
“No, I had nothing to do with it, at all. It will get straightened out.”
“What do you mean ‘straightened out’?” Mike lowered his voice, as if he were trying not to be overheard. “Was this girl one of your private patients?”
“No, she wasn’t.”
“Then what? How do you know her? The police don’t search offices unless they suspect you of a crime.”
“Mike, I’m not accused of anything—”
“Are you a person of interest? Are you a suspect?”
“Yes.” Eric wasn’t going to lie. “Mike, is there any way you can come down here or send somebody on your staff?”
“Come where? Where are you?”
“I’m at the Radnor police station. They’re searching my house and car, they want my clothes—”
“Eric, listen, I don’t know what you’re involved in, but I’m not about to come down there, nor will I send anybody else from Legal. You’re suspected of the gravest possible crime.”
“Mike, I didn’t do it.
You can’t really think I did it. You know better than that. You know me.” Eric had known Mike for fifteen years. The lawyer had started only a week before Eric had.
“That’s irrelevant, and I shouldn’t have said that because that’s not the point, as a matter of law. If she was one of your private patients—”
“She wasn’t my patient.”
“Was she a patient on the unit?”
“No.”
“If that’s true, then HGH has no connection with the matter.” Mike’s tone turned officious. “Any wrongdoing by you would be outside the scope of your employment at HGH. Therefore, neither I nor my staff can represent you. Furthermore, the insurance that the hospital purchases for you under your employment contract does not cover legal expenses incurred outside the scope of your employment at HGH, whether they be civil or criminal.”
Eric hadn’t even been thinking about insurance. He already knew where this was going.
“You need to get your own lawyer to represent you and you need to pay for it on your own dime. I’m assuming you have malpractice coverage or similar coverage for your private practice. You do, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Eric did maintain additional insurance, at the cost of ten grand a year, but Renée hadn’t been his patient, so he doubted it was covered.
“Eric, if I were you, that would be my first call, my malpractice insurer.”
Eric checked his watch, and it was already three thirty. He hadn’t even gotten to make treatment rounds today. “Is everything okay on the unit?”
“Yes, Amaka and Sam have everything in control.”
“Good. I’m not sure if I can make it back today. I have to stop by the house and—”
“Eric, don’t come back to work. I have to talk to Tom and Brad, but you can’t return if you’re a murder suspect.”
“Wait. What?” Eric couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“We have no choice, Eric. This is a PR nightmare.” Mike groaned. “We just got the number-two ranking, you were our poster boy.”
“No, that’s not right, that can’t be!” Eric raised his voice. “I’m not charged with anything, they didn’t arrest me. It’s just speculation, and I’m going to call the lawyer and get it cleared up. You can’t tell me not to come back, just because it’s bad PR. It’s my job, my unit. I have a contract!”