“Doubt the timing will ever be just right. Would you get Dr. Leland please?” He could be polite when he needed to be, but he could jack up the heat if please didn’t work.
She stepped aside. “Why don’t you come in and have a seat? I’ll let him know you’re here.”
“Appreciate it.”
Bragg and Winchester stood in the corridor filled with dozens of plaques regaling Shady Grove. First in Education. Outstanding Work with Children. The list of awards went on and on, and he supposed they were comforting endorsements when a parent wanted to drop off his troubled child.
There were no pictures of the students. No smiling faces. No kids canoeing or making crafts or standing around a campfire. The identity of the guests, as the Web site had said, was closely guarded.
“Place makes me sad,” Winchester said.
Bragg nodded. “Yeah.”
A door closed and footsteps sounded and grew closer. Bragg turned to discover a tall thin man sporting a dark mustache that matched thinning hair. He wore a lab coat over a suit and his nameplate read DR. LELAND.
The doctor’s quick and easy smile said he was practiced at handling difficult surprises. He extended his hand and Bragg took it. The doctor’s handshake was firm and sure and his eye contact steady.
Dr. Leland shook his hand. “My secretary tells me your name is Ranger Tec Bragg.”
“That’s right, Dr. Leland,” Bragg said. “We’re from the Austin office of the Texas Rangers.”
If their business had rattled the doctor he gave no sign of it. But then being calm in tough situations would have been part of his job. “Why don’t you come back to my office and we can talk.”
Bragg and Winchester followed the doctor along the carpeted hallway toward the back corner office. Dr. Leland’s office was large and carpeted in a rich burgundy shade and decorated with a mahogany desk, paneled hunter-green walls, and framed degrees that said he should know what he was doing.
The doctor indicated for the Rangers to take a leather-padded seat in front of his desk while he retreated to his chair behind his desk. Threading his fingers the doctor leaned forward, a moderate level of concern on his face. “What can I do for you, Rangers Bragg and Winchester?”
“I’m hoping you can help us,” Bragg said.
“I’ll do whatever I can.” He offered a smooth easy smile.
Bragg relaxed back in his chair, in no rush to get to the punch line. “You handle a lot of kids here every year?”
He steepled his fingers. “About one hundred.”
The doctor had no hard edges. His voice, his smooth hands, and his rounded face were all pleasant and invited trust. “That’s not a lot.”
“We offer specialized care including one-on-one counseling as well as group counseling. It’s intensive. The children who come to us are in tough shape.”
This guy sounded like a walking-talking marketing video. “Would you say you have a good success rate?”
“We do. We pride ourselves on helping these children.” He adjusted his glasses. “Just because a child comes from money doesn’t mean they’re happy.”
“Money doesn’t buy happiness,” Winchester said.
“No, it does not.”
“But it does buy privacy and a really nice place to get well,” Bragg countered.
“We pride ourselves on making a nurturing place for the children.”
“What’s the age range for your patients?”
“We’ve children as young as ten and as old as twenty.”
“That’s a sizeable gap. A twenty-year-old might not have much in common with a ten-year-old.”
“That’s why we divide our children into pods. We try to match the ages of the children who share pods. They live in separate buildings located beyond the woods.”
“And all the children here have tried to commit suicide?”
Annoyance flashed in Dr. Leland’s eyes as if the hard word were taboo. “Some of our residents also grapple with drug addiction, anorexia, or self-mutilation. We are equipped to handle just about any crisis.”
“Basically, you treat messed-up kids.” He wanted to sound unfeeling. He wanted to rattle the doctor and find out what he could shake loose.
Dr. Leland frowned, but didn’t rise to the bait. “You make it sound harsh.”
“Because it is harsh,” Winchester said.
Absently he straightened a sheet of paper on his desk. “We try not to judge the children here.”
“I wasn’t judging. Only trying to get to what you do for the children.”
“I’ve indulged your questions, Ranger Bragg. Now can you tell me why you are here?”
Bragg switched tactics. “How long have you been at Shady Grove?”
“I’ve worked here for a decade.”
“How long have you been the director?”
“I’m not just the director. I own the facility now.”
“How long?”
“Barely over a year.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing overly dramatic or nefarious. The founder of the camp, Dr. Gary Putman, died. In his sleep. Of a heart attack. He was seventy-six.”
“Dr. Putman founded the camp?”
“He did. Twenty years ago. Though he was a leading psychologist, his oldest child, Rebecca, was a troubled girl. She killed herself when she was fifteen. Her death prompted him to create a haven for troubled children.”
“You purchased the clinic.”
“Yes, from the family.”
Bragg hesitated, letting his gaze roam the room as if he had all the time in the world. He met the doctor’s gaze. “I’ve had two of your former clients die recently.”
Dr. Leland cocked his head and frowned but kept his thoughts to himself.
Bragg had the sense the doctor was calculating the media fallout from the murders. He didn’t speak, using the silence to prompt the doctor to talk.
Dr. Leland cleared his throat. “Can you tell me who?”
“The first was Rory Edwards and the second Sara Wentworth. They were both here at the same time about twelve years ago.”
“That was before my time. As I said, I’ve been here a decade.”
“I assume the facility keeps records.”
“I’m not allowed to release the names of my current or former clients. I signed several privacy agreements when I bought the camp. Dr. Putman’s son was clear about maintaining the camp’s reputation. Discretion is key to our work.”
“We know doctor-patient privilege is binding,” Winchester said.
“But the sole link between the two victims was their stay here,” Bragg added.
“Many of our clients run into each other when they leave. I have no control over what happens then.” Dr. Leland clearly favored damage control and not assistance.
“Rory Edwards was here because he hanged himself. And Sara Wentworth, who went by the name Joan while she was here, tried to freeze herself to death. Rory was hanged several days ago and Sara froze to death in an industrial freezer.”
Dr. Leland straightened the sheet of paper on his desk again. “We have a high success rate, but we do lose some clients. Mental illness is a tough and complicated issue to tackle. Outside life is stressful and can trigger a relapse.”
“I’ve no doubt. No doubt at all. There was another gal here, Elizabeth Templeton.”
His lips compressed into a thin line. “Did she die?”
“No. No, she’s doing well for herself now. She speaks well of Shady Grove. But she knew the two victims.”
“Why are you calling them victims? I thought you said these two individuals killed themselves.”
The doctor was astute, but then to be a success here he’d have to key into the nuances of words. “I know Rory was murdered or at the least was assisted with his suicide. Sara may have been the one who helped or killed him before killing herself. Or someone else killed them both.”
Dr. Leland arched a brow. “I would think the police would know the difference between suicide and murder.”
“We do most times. But then we get a killer who tries to cover up. Takes more digging to get at what happened.”