Page 65 of Kill For Me Kill For You
‘It’s kind of personal, you know? I just need to know she’s on the level. If not, I might need another group. Could you talk to her?’
‘Sure. I’ll call her and see what she has to say,’ said Matt.
‘When?’ asked Amanda.
Matt paused, said, ‘When will I call her?’ He smiled, laughed nervously, then said, ‘I suppose I’ll call her after we finish talking.’
‘Like right away? Couldn’t you call her now?’
‘I don’t have her . . . I mean, my files are in the trunk of my car,’ he said, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb. ‘I lead groups all over the city, so it’s easier just to keep the records in the car. I’ll call her when we’re done here. I promise.’
The waitress arrived with his sandwich, and Matt unfolded his napkin, placed it on the table, looked around and said, ‘I’m just going to the bathroom. Back in a sec.’
Amanda took a sip of coffee while she worked out her next move. She knew what it had to be. It made her more than a little uncomfortable, but there was no choice.
That clock was ticking.
The bathroom was in the basement, like a lot of restaurants in the city. Matt disappeared through a door labeledrestrooms, and Amanda got up, walked round to Matt’s side of the table and picked up his jacket. She heard the rattle of keys, fished in his pocket and found a large bunch of them on several interlocking keyrings. Attached to the bunch was a key fob for a BMW.
Across from her was a guy in a business suit with an iPad propped up on the table.
‘Excuse me, I have to go outside and make a call. Would you mind watching our table for a moment? My friend is in the bathroom.’
‘No problem,’ said the man.
Amanda thanked him, jogged to the door and was soon out on the street, walking as fast as she could in the direction Matt had approached the deli. There were no lots around this area, at least none that she could think of. A line of parked cars stretched along the sidewalk. The last car at the end of the block was a silver BMW. She hit the fob. The lights flashed. Amanda opened the trunk.
Inside were three boxes containing neat rows of folders. The boxes were labeled according to the type of counseling – Couples – Addiction – Parental Trauma.
Amanda pulled the last box and started going through it. Within it she saw her file – Jane – thin and new. Her fingers walked through the tops of the files, separating them fast so she could see the names on each file.
There it was – Wendy. She lifted it, flicked it open.
She bypassed Matt’s notes on the file. She didn’t rate him as any kind of therapist, and his insights wouldn’t amount to much. She remembered that when she had joined the group Matt had taken a Xerox of her driver’s license for the file. She turned the pages. Found Wendy’s.
Naomi Cotton. It had a date of birth, and an address.
Same address as the abandoned apartment.
Shit. She took a picture of it on her phone.
She looked through the rest of the file, disappointed, still hoping she might get something worthwhile.
Looked like Naomi had joined the group two weeks before Amanda. There was a phone number on the file, handwritten on the side, but it was the same number for the burner phone. The one that Naomi had no doubt discarded.
She had been hoping that Naomi’s real name would be there. She was sure Naomi Cotton was a false name, and that this was a false ID. If it was, it was good. Very good.
She closed the file, put it back in the box, then slammed the trunk shut. By the time she got back to her table, Matt was already there. Her knee was burning with the effort. She put the keys in her coat pocket, took her seat and mouthed a thank-you to the guy in the suit.
‘Everything okay?’ asked Matt.
‘Fine, sorry. I had to call my bank. Problems with my card. I haven’t been working since . . .’
Matt nodded, said, ‘Don’t worry. This is on me.’
They talked little after that. Amanda making polite comments as Matt led the conversation to the healing properties of exercise, meditation and yoga. He paid the bill, stood up and grabbed his coat. Just as the coat moved, Amanda tossed his keys under the table.
Matt looked down, saw them and picked them up without question, probably thinking they’d just fallen out of his pocket. She thanked him, and he said he would get back to her once he’d got in touch with Wendy.
