“I don’t see why…Fuck it, whatever. She always called me ‘the Queen’s Understudy.’ The way she’d say it rubbed the wrong way. Big deal.”
A big deal, Micki thought. Maybe a very big deal. “Thank you, Cherry. Last question. Did Dr. Blackwood include hypnotherapy as part of your treatment?”
Chapter Nineteen
3:25 PM.
Hypnotherapy had been part of Chablis’ treatment. In fact, Chablis’ story matched Vanderlund’s: after a couple tries, the shrink deemed it to be a less effective treatment option than traditional psychotherapy.
Micki figured that was bullshit. The shrink-from-hell had used those agreed upon sessions to plant a subconscious trigger that would put Vanderlund and Chablis under without their knowing it. From then on, she’d had free access to their subconscious and could manipulate them however she pleased.
Sociopath. Big time.
Now, she and Carmine had to get Major Nichols to agree to a search warrant request.
“You want what?” he asked, looking dumbfounded.
“A search warrant,” she repeated. “Dr. Renee Blackwood’s office and home. We’re looking for notes and recordings from her sessions with Vanderlund and Chablis. In addition, her appointment books and billing records. Computer hard drive, phone records.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Because you believe this respected psychiatrist used hypnosis to compel Bitty Vanderlund, Cherry Chablis, and Liz Schaefer to commit murder?”
“Not exactly,” she said. “She used hypnosis to magnify their feelings of anger, frustration, and jealousy. It’s like being egged on to do something you normally wouldn’t. By someone you respect and trust.
“Dr. Blackwood.”
“Weirdly, it’s not her voice you hear in your head. It’s your own. She plants the idea in your subconscious, and it becomes yours.”
“That can really happen?”
“It’s not outside the realm of plausibility.”
“That sounds like bullshit, Detective.”
She handed him a folder with articles she’d printed on the subject. “Case after case of the power of hypnotherapy to influence thoughts and actions.”
Nichols thumbed through the folder, then looked up at Carmine. “And you’re on board with all this?”
“I wasn’t at first, but three queens, Major? All similar crimes? All connected by Blackwood?” He motioned to the folder. “There’s science to back it up.”
“What about motive?”
“Because she could,” Micki said. “For kicks. A power thrill.”
Nichols drummed his fingers on the desk. “The judge may not agree.”
“But we’ll have tried,” Micki said. “She’s dirty. I know it.”
“Okay. Write it up, let’s see what happens.”
***
The judge approved the warrant and within two hours Micki and Carmine, accompanied by two cruisers, turned into the small parking area adjacent to the psychiatrist’s office.
“Something’s wrong,” Micki said as they climbed out. “Both times I’ve been here, a lamp burned in that front window. It’s out now. And the side window, that blind’s pulled up.”
“A burned out bulb,” he said. “Cleaning service forgot to lower the blind. We’ve got this, Mad Dog. Be cool.”
“Right,” she muttered, as her cell phone went off. She saw it was Hank calling and answered. “What’s up, old man?”
“Checking on you.”
Something in his voice sounded wrong. “Hold on a second.” She covered the mouthpiece. “Give me five, Angelo.”
He nodded and she returned to Hank. “I want to thank you.”
“For what?”
“For giving me that little talk about trusting my instincts. It paid off. Big time.”
“I’m proud of you. girl.”
“Judge granted a search warrant; I’m there now, so I have to go. How about we celebrate with a pizza tonight? My treat.”
“You got it, girl. Michaela?”
She glanced toward Angelo and the other officers. He was looking at his watch. “Yeah?”
“You know you’re special, right?”
A knot formed in her throat. “Special as a lump of coal, you silly man.”
“You’re worthy. Don’t forget it.”
The hairs at the back of her neck prickled. “Why so serious all of a sudden?”
“I need you to tell me you believe that. You’re worthy of love. You deserve everything good. Tell me, Michaela.”
Tears stung her eyes. She didn’t believe it and couldn’t lie to him. “What are you talking about, you nut. You’re the good one in this odd couple. I’ll see you in a couple hours—”
“Mad Dog,” Angelo called, tapping his watch. “Time to move!”
“I’ve got to go, Hank. Love you.”
She hung up, climbed out of the car and joined the others. They reached the business’s front entrance. The Welcome, Come In sign hung slightly askew on the door.
“See,” Carmine said, grinning at her as he opened the door, “it’s all good.”
But it wasn’t, they saw a moment later. Micki stood in the center of the wrecked reception area. She turned in a slow circle. Desk drawers hanging open, contents gone. Walls stripped of photos, awards, diplomas. Shelves cleared.