“Yes.”
“Good. Thank you, Laila. Please, tell me why you made this call.”
Baker heard Laila swallow a breath, then let it out as her voice cracked.
“Oh, I’m going to sound foolish.”
“You won’t, I promise.”
“I’m also a little scared because I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”
“Don’t be afraid. You’re brave to call, just let me know what it is and I can take it from there. Maybe all you need is to talk to someone, Laila.”
Laila took a breath.
“It started when our cable and internet went out in our house...”
Laila recounted every detail to Baker concerning the cable guy, what he did with her underwear and how he made her feel. The keyboard clicked softly as Baker took down everything, listening intently, professionally, with empathy, pausing Laila to check information.
“...his name is Zoran Volk, the company is Distinctly Connex, he drove a white van...”
Laila confirmed the details, some of which she had on her electronic copy of the invoice. She also gave Baker a physical description of Volk.
“Let me go over things one more time, Laila,” Baker said as she typed. “Did he touch you inappropriately in any way?”
“Well, he brushed his finger on mine when I signed the thing...”
“Did he say anything threatening to you, or imply a threat?”
“No.”
“Okay, give me a moment.” Baker typed. “That just about does it.”
Laila stayed on the line, listening as Baker typed. When she finished, she said: “I can send a car to your house to take a statement, then our people will probably go to the cable company, talk to Zoran Volk and his employer, advising them of the complaint.”
“Would he face a charge?”
“I can’t tell you that. It’s up to the deputies and if you want to pursue this further with them.”
“You know what, Rhonda,” Laila said. “I don’t. Please cancel my call, complaint, whatever.”
“Are you certain?”
“No, but I feel better talking to you. Maybe he’s just a creepy jerk, you know?”
Baker believed Laila was just scared, uncomfortable, but it was ultimately her choice to pursue this.
“I understand. Think it over. You can always call me again.”
“Thank you, Rhonda, for listening.”
The call ended, leaving Baker staring at her screen with the details and information of Laila Price’s complaint. Baker thought that with a couple of strokes she could delete it, cancel it, as Laila wished.
Thinking about it, that it was in Cardinal Hill, not too far from Trailside and Ripplewood Creek, where a woman disappeared, Baker typed a few commands, saving the complaint about Zoran Volk, submitting it to the regional database.
For good measure, because you never know.
Forty-Six
Williamsville, New York
By 2:11 p.m., Kozak and Carillo were back at the Five Cloud Professional Center in the office of Dr. Stuart Maynart.
The door was closed.
They were seated at a table across from Maynart and his lawyer, Violet Chen, who was wearing a tailored navy suit that Kozak liked.
Maynart wore a sport coat over a pin-striped shirt. His face held a few days’ growth, his hair a little mussed, his expression taut behind his frameless glasses. He had a file folder, tablet, and phone on the table. Chen’s clasped hands rested on a legal pad.
All business and ready for battle, Kozak thought, glancing at Carillo.
His jaw muscles were bunched. Not a good sign.
“Thank you for agreeing to assist us,” Kozak said.
“To be clear,” Chen said, “this is extremely confidential. My client’s cooperation is voluntary out of concern for the safety of his client and others given the grave circumstances. While he will discuss therapy, he will retain all records, unless subpoenaed, which we will challenge. But hopefully you will not find such action necessary.”
“Yes,” Kozak said. “To start, you confirm Jennifer Griffin is your client?”
“I do,” Maynart said. “And I want to reiterate that this discussion must be held in the strictest confidence.”
“You have our assurance,” Kozak said.
“Jennifer has been a client for some two months,” Maynart said. “She insisted her treatment be confidential. She told me that her husband did not know. I suspect that’s why she chose not to use her insurer. Instead, she paid me in cash, as some clients do. So there would be no record in her household. We also adjusted her weekly sessions with me to fit with her yoga classes across street, which I encouraged her to maintain for their calming value.”
“What were you treating her for?” Kozak asked.
Maynart thought for a moment. “Her situation was a complex combination of what appears to be abnormally prolonged grief disorder over the deaths of her parents during childhood, and, something related to it, something I suspect was a recent trauma of some sort.”
“A recent trauma?” Kozak repeated.
“Yes, but I can’t yet identify it.”
“What about her recent disappearance?” Carillo asked.
“Your point being?”
“Were you concerned when she was reported missing?” Carillo asked.
“Certainly.”
“If that was the case, then why didn’t you come to us?” Carillo said.
“The issue of protecting her privacy prevented me.”
“Really? Given that she may have been—” Carillo was interrupted.
“I think it’s clear,” Chen said, “the circumstances concerning Dr. Maynart’s client were fluid. They deteriorated, becoming exceptional, reaching into his duty to warn, for the safety of his client and others. Therefore, he is cooperating. Fully, Detective Carillo.”
“Dr. Maynart,” Kozak said. “We have a range of concerns to ask, if we could just cover them first?”
“Of course,” Maynart said.
“Concerning the possibility of Jennifer experiencing a recent trauma, did she mention stress in her marriage?”
“No.”
“Did she indicate she suffered abuse of any sort from her husband?”
“No.”