“I’ve got the numbers for you,” Lucas said. “The first one is Angie Koontz. She’s an older lady, nearing sixty or so.” He gave her number and as Rachel committed it to memory, she wondered if the number would be enough. She’d still have the obstacle of a therapist being very protective over a patient’s information.
“The second one,” Lucas went on, “is Stephen Ayer. He’s a younger guy and if memory serves, I think he hails from New York.” He recited Stephen Ayer’s number and when he was done, Rachel found herself scooting to the edge of the bed. Her episode had been minor enough where she’d not even been stripped and placed in a hospital gown. Literally, all she needed to do was check out of this place.
“One more thing, Dr. Lucas. And I understand you’re going to have an issue with this, but I can’t stress the importance of it enough. Do you have any sort of access to which therapists met with which clients?”
He was silent for a moment but then answered reluctantly. “Yes, actually. While there’s a degree of confidentiality even though it’s a non-traditional patient-doctor setup, everything in the Life Fulfilled system is streamlined. I have access to the same network everyone else with the foundation has. From a client’s listing, I can tell you what their illness is, who their primary physician is, and which therapist they’ve seen—among other things.”
“And do you have access to it right now?”
“Yes. I’m at home, looking at my laptop right now.”
“I need to know which therapists the victims saw,” Rachel said. “It could turn out to be a huge help in this case.”
“You understand I could get in a great deal of trouble for this, right?”
“I do. And you understand, hopefully, that the longer it takes me to get this information, the more time for the killer to strike again.”
She could hear him sigh on the other line, but it was followed by the faint clicking of laptop keys. “What are the victims’ names?”
“Troy Hetfield, Polly Warren, and Benjamin Wells.”
“My God…I…I just spoke with Polly last week.” She could hear him collecting himself, clearing his throat, taking a deep breath and maybe even biting back a little sob. “Okay…so, I see here that Benjamin Wells met with Angie Koontz. And for Troy and Polly, it looks like…yes, they both met with Stephen Ayer.”
“Are these appointments randomly assigned or is there some sort of logistical thought that goes into which therapist should match up with each client?”
“No, nothing that deep. Much of it just comes down to the therapists’ schedules.”
“Okay. Thank you for your time, Dr. Lucas.”
“No problem. Just…if this thing goes down badly, I’d appreciate it if you could keep my name out of this. I’m sure you understand that I really should not have given you this information.”
“Yes, I know. And I’ll do what I can to make sure your name isn’t mentioned.”
She ended the call and instantly typed the two numbers she’d been given into her Notes app. She then slipped her shoes back on and left the hospital room without so much as a glance back. As she made her way down to the desk, she checked her watch. It was getting close to five o’clock in the afternoon. Paige would have been home for about an hour now and Grandma Tate would probably blow a gasket if she stayed out until dark (and rightfully so, Rachel reminded herself).
She made the decision then and there to draw a line in the sand. If she was going to make this work-family balance somehow work in whatever time she had left, she was going to have to start making boundaries for herself and sticking to them. The line she drew was that she would look into Stephen Ayer, maybe pay him a visit if at all possible. And after that, she would go home regardless of how things went with Ayer.
She hurried to the desk and signed three different papers while also handing over her insurance card. She didn’t realize that it could be a mistake until after the card had been run. It went through the bureau, which was going to create a paper trail. If the visit was for some reason scrutinized later down the line, she’d have some questions to answer.
Eh, maybe I’ll be dead by then, she thought with a bit of morbid humor.
With the discharge process done, she took the elevators down to the main floor. As she crossed the lobby and headed for the doors, she realized that she and Jack had missed one very important detail: she had no car. And while she didn’t mind calling for an Uber, she thought she had a better idea. She just hoped she wouldn’t have to sell Jack too hard on it.
She called Jack as she stepped through the pneumatic doors and into the afternoon sun. The parking lot was bright and warm, a field of sunlight bouncing from windshields. Jack answered on the fourth ring. His voice was hushed and almost sleepy-sounding. Rachel had worked with him long enough to know that this meant he was within earshot of someone else.
“Where are you?” Rachel asked.
“Standing in the hallway of the McCain residence. Malory McCain is currently fourth on the waiting list. We’ve been talking about the time she spent with one of the therapists working under the Life Fulfilled umbrella.”
“Was it Koontz or Ayer?”
Jack laughed, and she could picture him shaking his head. “Seems like you’ve gotten a lot done from your hospital bed.”
“I’m out of it now. I just checked out a few minutes ago. Now…Koontz or Ayer?”
“Stephen Ayer.”
“I just spoke with Dr. Lucas, who confirmed that both Polly Warren and Troy Hetfield also met with Ayer. I don’t see a smoking gun yet but I think he’s definitely worth a visit.”