Page 14 of The Perfect Poise

Kat glanced down at the glass coffee table between them and caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror. She took note of the multiple facial burn marks and the long scar that ran vertically down her left cheek from just below her eye, remnants of her time as an Army Ranger in Afghanistan. She still remembered how Mitch used to lovingly trace the scar with his finger, like it was a sculpture he was admiring.

“Okay,” Kat said, pushing that memory out of her mind and closing her eyes. She felt like she was about to do a trust fall. “I can’t stop thinking about Ash Pierce. She should be paying rent for all the space she takes up in my brain these days.”

“How so?” Lemmon asked.

“I know she wasn’t responsible for Mitch’s death, even though I thought so at first,” Kat explained. “That was the work of Mark Haddonfield’s minion. But she’s responsible for so much of the bad in my life. And now, when she’s finally supposed to pay for what she did, she’s on the verge of evading justice.”

“How is she doing that?”

“I feel like she’s snowing everyone with this amnesia claim.”

“What are you worried will happen if people believe her?” Lemmon asked.

“Take your pick of bad outcomes,” Kat replied. “She could lull the contingent of officers guarding her into complacency and escape. Alternately, she could be playing the long game, hoping to get sympathy from a jury at her trial for—you know—murdering at least a half dozen people that we know of.”

Kat noticed, as Lemmon clearly had too, that her voice got high and angry at that last line. Lemmon smiled gently.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” Kat told her.

“What if she’s telling the truth?” Lemmon wondered. “What if she really did lose her memory?”

Now it was Kat’s turn to smile.

“That’s the real reason I’m coming clean,” she admitted. “I’m not just trying to get this off my chest. I need your help.”

“What do you mean?” Lemmon asked.

“I think you know what I mean, Dr. Lemmon,” Kat said. “Other than Jessie Hunt, you are the most celebrated criminal profiler in Southern California history.”

“Garland Moses might take issue with that,” Lemmon noted, referring to Jessie’s mentor, the crusty profiler who was murdered by her psychotic ex-husband a year and a half ago.

"I mean, who's still alive," Kat said, correcting herself. "You were Jessie before Jessie. Before you retired and started your psychiatry practice, you worked with the LAPD and FBI. And I've heard that you also worked with other more secretive organizations that you're not allowed to talk about."

“What’s your point, Kat?” Lemmon asked, neither confirming nor denying anything.

"I want you to meet with Ash Pierce and see if you find her amnesia claim credible. I'd ask Jessie, but she's too close to the situation. After all, Pierce tried to kill her sister and her best friend. You don't have that baggage."

“While I’m flattered,” Lemmon said, “even if I thought it was a good idea. It’s a non-starter. Neither the LAPD nor Pierce and her lawyers would agree to it.”

“I doubt that’s true,” Kat countered. “I suspect the department and the D.A. would welcome your input. Even if there was resistance, you have enough contacts to circumvent opposition. And I don’t think Pierce would be a problem either.”

“Why not?”

Kat smiled broadly.

“Because she’s trapped,” she said. “Her lawyers might protest, and I suppose she could hide behind that. But she knows who you are and what kind of credibility you have. If she really has amnesia, then she has nothing to lose by talking to you. You’d actually bolster her claim. And if she’s faking, she knows how suspicious it would look, like she has something to hide.”

Lemmon sat quietly for a moment, pondering.

“What about my infirmities?” she finally asked. “Going into a hospital room with a serial killer in my condition could make me very vulnerable.”

She pointed to her cane by the couch and bandage on her head. The first was to help her navigate the weakness caused by a herniated disc some months ago. The latter was the result of the attack she suffered at the hands of Mark Haddonfield’s murderous lackey. Luckily, Lemmon had her taser handy to deal with that guy or her injuries could have been worse.

“Don’t give me that,” Kat said, having none of it. “You took out that guy who came after you like it was nothing. And I bet that cane is a pretty handy weapon when you want it to be. Besides, Pierce will be guarded and handcuffed. You’re just making excuses.”

Lemmon smiled, as if amused by Kat’s evaluation of her combat skills.

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