Page 34 of Exit Strategy
‘There are no emails or messages or appointments in her calendar, but why else was Dr Martin in Patten’s contacts? She must have been seeing her.’
‘So?’
‘Remember I told you I tried counseling? When I was trying to quit gambling? Dr Martin was the shrink I went to see. She didn’t help, obviously. But she was the only one who knew about my debts. The specifics. How much I owed. Who I owed it to.’
‘Gilmour, you said you didn’t tell anyone. You swore up and down.’
‘She isn’tanyone. She’s a shrink. They’re like priests. They have rules. They aren’t allowed to tell anyone anything they learn about their patients. The sessions are totally confidential.’
‘This whole enterprise you’re caught up in. Does itsound like it’s run by people who pay attention to the rules?’
Gilmour looked down at the table. ‘No. But that’s why I didn’t think of her. Not till now.’
‘Dr Martin took information she learned in your sessions. She gave it, or sold it, to someone she could exploit. You think she did the same thing to Patten?’
‘She must have. I bet the guy who paid my debt got something to hold over Patten, too, and manipulated her into hiring me.’
‘That sounds possible. It’s worth a closer look. That’s for sure.’
Sabrina Patten had told Gilmour that she was leaving the office at noon, so he looked up her own entry on her phone. It gave a home address in Roland Park. That was too far to walk, so Gilmour led the way back to his car and fired up his mapping app. His phone’s robot voice gave directions that brought them to a broad street with large houses on both sides. They were well set back from the road with neat lawns, lines of mature trees, and flower beds overflowing with plants and shrubs. The houses all had garages – at least two stalls each – as well as long driveways, but there were still plenty of cars parked on the street. BMWs. Audis. A couple of Jaguars and a few others that Reacher assumed were expensive, fashionable brands.
Patten’s house was smaller than her neighbors’. It had a porch to shield its front door; white-framed windows pierced its sky-blue wooden siding, and a rooster-shaped weathervane rose from the apex of the steeply pitched roof.
Gilmour knocked on the door. There was no answer. He turned to walk back to the car, but Reacher stepped in front of him. He knocked the way he had when he was an MP. Not a tentativeIs anyone there?but a command:Come out. Now.
Light footsteps padded along the hallway inside the house and the door swung open, just a little. The gap was held at six inches by a gold-colored chain, pulled tight. Patten peered out at her visitors. She looked part curious, part surprised.
Gilmour pushed past Reacher and held up Patten’s phone. He pulled a smile, which he hoped looked friendly, and said, ‘Hi. We’ve come to return this.’
Patten’s expression became instantly suspicious. ‘Where’d you find it? How did you know it was mine? And where did you get my address?’
Gilmour held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘I can explain.’ He took out his own phone, pulled up the picture of the guy who’d paid his debt, and showed it to Patten.
The color drained from her face. For a moment it looked like she was going to be sick. She said, ‘I don’t understand. I did everything he told me to. Why—’
Gilmour said, ‘He blackmailed you into hiring me?’
‘How did you find out?’
‘You’re a patient of Dr Alyssa Martin?’
‘I don’t want to talk about that.’
Patten started to close the door, but Gilmour blocked it with his foot. He said, ‘I’m not asking you to. I’m not interested in the details. But listen, please. I’ve been blackmailed – kind of – by the same people you have. I’m a victim, too. And on top of that, something seriousis happening. Something that puts my little nephew in danger. Horrible danger. So can we come in for a minute? Can we talk? I really need your help. And who knows? Maybe we can help each other.’
Patten was silent for a moment. She didn’t move. Then she nodded, unhooked the chain, and opened the door. She flattened her blouse over her stomach then turned and led the way down the hallway and into the kitchen. It was at the back of the house with a view of the yard, which was full of grass and more trees. French doors opened onto a stone-paved patio. The cabinets were gloss white with gray granite countertops and the appliances were all stainless steel. Patten opened the dishwasher, took out three glasses, and filled them with water from a dispenser on the door of a giant fridge. She set the glasses down in a line at the edge of the island in the center of the room, looked Reacher up and down like he was a specimen in a zoo, and said, ‘Who are you?’
Reacher said, ‘A friend.’
Patten shook her head and turned to Gilmour. ‘The charade this morning. All your questions. You were fishing. Trying to find out if I was in touch with the guy in the photo?’
Gilmour nodded. ‘Do you know his name?’
‘No.’
‘How’d you meet him?’
‘He showed up here out of the blue, just like you did. He knew things about me. Private things. He said he’d post them all over social media if I didn’t do what he told me. That would be the end. I’d have to kill myself.’
