Simone seemed to be settling down. Ryan was coaxing her to breathe slowly through her nose and it appeared to be working. Eventually, she felt well enough to sit up and Jessie was able to get her first good look at her.

  Unlike her roommate, Simone Howard definitely didn’t look like Tobias’s type. She was tall and angular, with sharp cheekbones and long, lustrous back hair. She had on tight yoga pants and a sports bra and hadn’t made any attempt to cover up. By any reasonable measure, she was stunning and she clearly knew it.

  Not only did she seem physically uninhibited, but she carried herself with a dramatic flair that was the polar opposite of the professor’s type. In fact, Jessie wondered how someone like this became roommates with Natasha, who another victim they spoke to tonight had described as “scared of her own shadow” and “the very embodiment of mousy.” Considering that the girl who said that was herself a jumpy, fearful type, that was really saying something.

  “So why do you think you think Natasha is missing?” she asked once Simone seemed relatively composed.

  “I haven’t heard from her since this morning,” Simone explained. “At first, I didn’t think much about it because I had back-to-back classes from 8 a.m. until eleven. But later on, when I tried to reach her, she didn’t answer any of my calls or texts. Plus, I checked with some people she had classes with this afternoon and they said she wasn’t there.”

  Jessie made a mental note. She’d half-wondered if Simone might be capable of killing Tobias, but assuming they could confirm that she was in class as she claimed, they had one less suspect.

  “Is it that unusual for her to be out of touch?” Ryan asked. “Maybe her phone died. Maybe she skipped a few classes.”

  “No way, Nat doesn’t skip classes. It’s not in her to do it. And she always carries two chargers with her every day, just in case. She likes to be prepared,” Simone said, picking up speed and intensity with each new word. “Plus, unless she’s studying in the library, she always comes right back here after class. And just yesterday, she told me how psyched she was not to have any major assignments due for a week, so there was no reason for her to go to the library today.”

  “Okay,” Jessie said slowly, preparing to broach the issue they needed to address carefully, “but I’m guessing that if this had all happened yesterday, you wouldn’t be as upset as you are right now. What makes today different?”

  Simone looked at her with a mix of uncertainty and guilt. Any doubt Jessie had disappeared instantly. It was clear that Natasha was one of Tobias’s victims and that her roommate knew all about it.

  “I’m not sure…it’s just that—,” she mumbled before trailing off.

  “Simone, if you want our help, you have to be straight with us. Why are you so worried about Natasha?”

  The girl bit her lip nervously, seeming to weigh how to respond.

  “I guess if you’re here,” she finally said, “you already have a sense of what it might be.”

  “Probably,” Jessie replied, “but we need to hear it from you.”

  Simone nodded silently and her expression hardened, as if she’d come to a decision.

  “Okay,” she said, leaning in, “Nat had a fling with Professor Tobias, the one who died today. But she wouldn’t call it that. She was madly in love with the man. I told her that he was taking advantage of her, that he was using her as his personal sex toy because he knew that she’d never say anything. I only found out at all because I came across a poem she’d written but never gave him. It fell out of her backpack. When I asked her about it, she swore me to secrecy. She said that if he found out, he would end it, which is what he ended up doing anyway.”

  “Did she say why he ended things?” Ryan asked. “Did he maybe sense her starting to pull away at some point?”

  “Are you kidding?” Simone said, “She never pulled away. She was as devoted to him on the day that he dumped her as the day they started up. No, it was him. According to Nat, he told her he was bored with her. She offered to spice things up, which is really saying something considering some of the stuff she told me they did. But he wasn’t interested. He said that it was over and that if she ever breathed a word about them, he’d destroy her academically, say she cheated on a test or something and get her kicked out of school.”

  Jessie did her best to mask her revulsion at the depths Tobias was capable of.

  “Why do you think he dumped her?” she asked evenly, wondering if Simone’s answer would match her own theory.

  “I never told Nat this, but I think he got spooked,” Simone replied. “By the end, she had gotten really intense. I think he was worried that she was going to spill the beans somehow and ruin his career. So he shut it down and threatened her into silence. It was a form of self-protection, even if it destroyed her, which it did.”

  Jessie suspected the same thing. It fit his M.O. perfectly.

  “She really reacted that badly?” Ryan asked.

  “That’s partly why I’m so worried,” Simone explained. “After he dropped her, she was devastated. At one point, she even threatened to kill herself. I wanted to tell her parents but she said they’d be humiliated if they found out what happened. And if you can believe it, she was worried that they’d take legal action against Tobias. She didn’t want his reputation harmed. Their affair ended over four months ago and she was still as raw about it yesterday as when it happened. So when I heard that he died, I knew it would gut her. That’s why I’ve been trying to reach out to her. I’m worried that she might do something crazy, maybe hurt herself in some kind of delusional Romeo and Juliet death pact.”

  Hearing that, Jessie now understood why Simone had been in such a frenzy to find Natasha. If she was still that broken up about being tossed aside months later, learning the man that she thought she loved had died might push her over the edge.

  Of course there was an alternative theory. It was just as conceivable that after months of being treated like trash, Natasha’s devotion to Tobias had curdled into something closer to venom. If she saw him with Phoebe or one of his other conquests, it could have spurred her to confront him. And if that went poorly, was it that hard to imagine that she might have snapped, decided that if she couldn’t have him, no one could, and killed him in a moment of jealous fury? Either way, they needed to find her fast.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Hannah didn’t know which throbbed more, her head or her feet.

  She trudged to her room slowly, trying to ignore both of them. To even get a couple of ibuprofen here was a whole production, and not worth the effort. So she tried the breathing techniques that Dr. Lemmon had taught her to use when she felt urges she wasn’t supposed to. If they worked for murderous desire, maybe they’d work on body aches too.

  She rounded the main hall that connected to hers and noticed that the psychiatric aide on duty at the nurses’ station, a tall, skinny, bespectacled twenty-something named Brian, was looking at her oddly. It was unsettling, especially since he rarely seemed to take much interest in the people he cared for.

  Her only personal experience with him was when, earlier this week, he threatened to transfer Silvio Castorini to the Assistance Wing when he got too loud in the cafeteria. The Assistance Wing was the official name for the secure wing where people stayed until they were no longer deemed a potential threat to themselves or others. Hannah managed to massage the situation and convince Brian to back down, but it was touch and go there for a while.

  As she shuffled to her room, an unpleasant thought popped into her head. What if all the work she’d done today, having “casual” conversations with other young women in Dr. Tam’s notebook was a waste? Maybe Brian the aide was the killer. She made a half-serious mental note to shove her chair against the door handle tonight. Considering that they weren’t allowed locks, it might be her only protection.

  She closed her door and plopped down on her bed. Looking up at the ceiling, she couldn’t help but silently chuckle to herself. This was supposed to be a relaxing place where she could focus on the hard work of getting better. But today felt like a different kind of work, one filled with stress.

  Trying to shoehorn sensitive discussions with reluctant women in between a way-too-involved tour of the Seasons at Sea beach house was already tough, even before she learned that the tour included a three mile beach hike and a weird, “listening session” with the leaders of ANTE, the organization funding the program.

  Then there was the challenge of trying to talk to Dr. Lemmon about her concerns. Hannah had gone to see her earlier today, and was pleasantly surprised to learn that the doctor had been trying to find time to do the same. But with all her meetings and phone calls, along with people constantly walking in and out of her office, there was never more than ten seconds to talk alone. Finally Hannah gave up.

  “Can we set a time for a formal session tomorrow?” she asked. “I need to talk to you about something important. But it has to be in private.”

  “Are you okay?” Dr. Lemmon asked. “I feel terrible that we haven’t been able to have a check-in for so long.”

  “I’m actually doing pretty well,” Hannah reassured her, “but this isn’t about me. I’ll explain when we talk.”

  “Okay,” Dr. Lemmon said with an intrigued expression on her face. “Make an appointment at the desk and we’ll hash it out. By the way, your sister was trying to reach you earlier, but every time she called, you were in the middle of something. It’s nothing pressing but you should expect her to try again tomorrow.”

  That conversation was this afternoon and Hannah was still curious what Jessie had wanted. If she’d had the time, she might have tried to call her sister to find out. But she was too busy pursuing new and creative ways to convince the women in Dr. Tam’s notebook to reveal if he’d ever behaved unprofessionally with them.

  That would have been hard enough in a conventional environment. But this was a center for people with deep psychological trauma and crushing addictions. She couldn’t just walk up to them and say “hey, did Dr. Tam ever try to get with you during one of your sessions?” These women were already in precarious emotional positions. She didn’t want to be responsible for pushing them over the edge.

  As it turned out, it didn’t really matter. Of the women whose names she could recall, two of them didn’t even understand what she was asking about. Two more got it but vehemently denied anything happened. One of them responded with language that was full of impressively filthy word combinations which Hannah had never heard before.

  The last woman, a heavily tattooed blonde in her early thirties named Pam, said that she’d come on to Dr. Tam, but he’d rejected her. Then, right there in the courtyard, Pam tried to feel Hannah up. That was how she learned that Pam was a sex addict.

  Someone might have been lying about the sessions with Dr. Tam, but it didn’t seem that way from their reactions. Maybe Merry had been an isolated incident after all. If so, Hannah had no idea how she could possibly prove it.

  Suddenly, her eyes felt heavy and she could feel herself starting to drift. She debated whether to get up to turn the light off. She was still on the fence when she heard a light rap on her door. Her eyes popped open and she immediately regretted not having shoved the chair under the door handle.

  “Who is it?” she called out.

  “It’s Dr. Tam,” came the reply.

  Before she could respond, the door opened and the doctor had stepped inside without asking for permission. Hannah sat up in her bed and gripped the sheets. This felt very wrong.

  “I was about to go to sleep,” she protested loudly.

  “This won’t take long,” he said, closing the door behind him.

  Hannah stood up, her entire body wired with adrenaline. If this guy thought their encounter was going to end like the one with Merry, he had another thing coming. She’d fought off serial killers, a kidnapper, and her sister’s psychotic ex-husband. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

  “I didn’t give you permission to come into my room,” she said through gritted teeth, waiting for him to make the first move.

  “Center physicians don’t need permission,” he said calmly, not making any attempt to move closer yet, “and you certainly didn’t get permission before sneaking into my office and looking at my personal notes.”

  Hannah couldn’t stop her jaw from dropping.

  “That’s right,” he continued, leaning back confidently against the door, blocking her exit. “You didn’t think that a doctor in a facility like this might have cameras in his office for security purposes? I could have you arrested right now for trespassing or worse. Should I do that, Hannah?”

  It took her a moment to regroup, but when she did, she made sure her voice was clear and unafraid.

  “Do you really believe it’s a good idea for you to call the authorities, Dr. Tam?” she challenged.

  “I don’t know,” he replied, unruffled by her veiled threat. “Sneaking into my office, looking at private medical information, approaching my patients to ask grotesquely inappropriate questions about my interactions with them—that seems like a pretty airtight list of charges.”

  She was about to tell him the charges he might be in danger of facing when he held up his hand.

  “Please don’t say something you’ll regret,” he advised condescendingly. “If you want to know what I wrote about you, just ask. But what you cannot do is snoop around, invading my privacy. It’s unacceptable. Because of the affection that I know Dr. Lemmon has for you, I’m willing to let it go this one time. If it happens again, I won’t be nearly as understanding. Have I made myself clear?”

  Hannah was confused. Was he dropping the whole thing? Did he really think she cared what he wrote about her in his notebook more than what he didn’t write about Merry, who he strangely hadn’t mentioned at all yet? Was this détente he offered just designed to get her guard down or was it genuine?

  “Yes,” she said, choosing to figure it out once he was no longer in her room, preventing her from leaving, “you’ve made yourself clear.”

  “Good,” he replied, then left without another word.

  Hannah sat back down on the bed, completely befuddled. He hadn’t physically threatened her, so telling someone about his unannounced visit might not be the slam dunk she hoped would bust him. In fact, he’d carefully avoided saying anything that could be construed as overtly aggressive. He could simply claim that he was having a cautionary conversation with a patient who had violated facility rules. Technically it was true.

  She had no idea what game Dr. Tam was playing but she did know one thing: she was jamming the door handle with her chair and sleeping under her bed tonight. If he came back, she’d be ready.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  They were running out of options and Jessie was running short on energy.

  For the last two hours, and with the help of Jamil, Beth, and Detective Jim Nettles, coordinating back at the station, the LAPD had canvassed airports, metro stations, as well as local hospitals. So far, there was no sign of Natasha Myers.

  Jessie and Ryan had done a more personalized, but equally exhausting search, using information from Simone. They reached out to Natasha’s aunt, who lived in Thousand Oaks. They checked at the coffee shop where she worked on most weekends. They drove around to every place she liked to hang out, which mostly meant vintage record stores, used bookstores, and a local café. They were all dead ends.

  As Ryan drove them back to campus, Jessie stared at the photo of Natasha that Simone had given them before they left, hoping it might offer some answers. But all that stared back at her was a young woman with a forced smile on her face, trying to hide the perpetual uncertainty lurking behind her eyes. She had short, red hair, pale, freckle-dotted skin, and wire-rimmed glasses that gave her a bookishly off-kilter appeal. Unfortunately, it was masked by her wan, washed-out appearance and uncomfortable bearing.

  Jessie remembered Simone’s answer when she’d asked her how the two of them ended up friends. considering how radically different they seemed.

  “She saw the best in me,” Simone had said. “We had a class together freshman year. Everyone thought I was a bitch on wheels, maybe because I speak my mind or because I don’t apologize for how I look—probably both. But Nat never made any assumptions about me. When some guy made a crude crack that he thought I didn’t hear, I started to tear up.”

  She had paused briefly at the memory and looked like she was on the verge of tears again. But after a moment, she managed to continue.

  “Nat overheard, came over, and gave me a tissue. We started talking, which probably never would have happened otherwise, and I realized that she was just this kind, truly genuine person. I don’t know very many of those and I wanted to keep her in my life. She told me I made her laugh. So we became friends, and then roommates.”

  Jessie thought about what Simone had said and couldn’t help but fixate on the irony. The very character trait that had drawn her to Natasha was what made her friend vulnerable to Roman Tobias. Her kindness and willingness to believe the best of people had blinded her to his deceit and manipulations, even after he cast her off.

  As she ruminated over that realization, another one came to mind. If Natasha was so loyal to Tobias when he was alive, despite the way he’d treated her, why wouldn’t she be equally devoted after his death? She looked over at Ryan, who had been reviewing fruitless updates from officers checking yet more metro stops.

  “I think I know where she is,” she said.

  “Where?” he asked.

  “You’re driving in the right direction.”

  *

  “Are you sure about this?” Ryan whispered as they quietly approached Haines Hall.

 

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