Naked Truth Page 2

  “She dated Stefan Bobrov before his mama put a stop to it.”

  Now, that is information I could use. Drake straightened up in his chair. “Oksana didn’t like the doc dating her son? Was it just a matter of no one being good enough for the golden boy?” He thought back to who Stefan used to have on his arm. But there had been a lot of girls, and Drake hadn’t really made it a point to notice. He and Stefan had run in different circles. Stefan had been the czar of the high school, and Drake had been an Irish peasant.

  Nikolai shook his head. “She was a good girl. She still is. So you think she’s pretty?”

  Drake didn’t like the calculating look in his godfather’s eyes. “She’s all right. A little on the flaky side for me.” He didn’t mention that he had been watching her walk down the alley that night with more attention than he usually gave people. She turned out to be pretty tough too. Kept her head when most other people would have just gotten into the car with the three bozos. And that was how missing people happened. Drake finished his vodka and waved his hand over the glass.

  “No more. I’ve got to drive.”

  Drake knew he wasn’t going to get anything further out of his godfather no matter how much more vodka they consumed. Either Nikolai didn’t know anything, or he was keeping his cards close to his chest.

  “Don’t let the Reiki fool you. She’s got more letters after her name than you will ever have.” The old man waggled a finger at him.

  “Good for her. Are you sure there isn’t something you should be telling me? If not as a cop, then as your godson. Oksana has never been concerned about you or your business before. The sudden interest bothers me.”

  “It bothers me too. Especially if she’s sending a thug like Vadim Fomin after innocent girls.”

  “My partner is heading over to have a word with Oksana now. Maybe she’ll shed a little light on the incident.” He stood up to go. “It was nice seeing you. Thank you for the drinks.” Drake hid a burp behind his hand and made sure he wasn’t swaying.

  “Drago, wait.” Nikolai put an arm around his shoulders and walked out with him. “Is Pam going to press charges?”

  “She named Gregor and Piotr—the local boys—but she didn’t know Vadim. She described him well enough in her report that I’m going to have a car pick him up for questioning. But nothing’s going to stick. They got all the bruises, and she got away clean. Her word against theirs, and she’ll be persuaded not to take the case further.” The scenario was so familiar that he felt despair well up inside him. Why do I even bother to try to change things? Maybe it was just the vodka talking, but he felt like a hamster on a wheel.

  “You’re a good boy. A cop. And my godson. No one from the neighborhood is going to mess with you. You need to protect her.”

  “I have my own cases to work on.”

  “Yeah, well, it was close enough to help her out last night. If she got away from Vadim, he’s going to come back after her. His pride will demand it.”

  “I can’t guarantee I won’t be too late next time. If you have any idea what this is all about, give me some clue.”

  “Go talk to Oksana.”

  “As soon as my face heals up, I’ll pay her a visit. There’s no sense in advertising the fact that it was me facing off against Vadim last night.”

  “Heck with that. You walk in as proud as can be. You put down her boy. Her dog.”

  “I don’t need to make an enemy out of Vadim Fomin,” Drake said.

  “What? You want to be his friend?”

  The old man had a point. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Be careful, Drago. They don’t fool around.”

  Chapter Three

  Sunlight filtered through her closed blinds, and Pam ducked under the warm covers as she anticipated the alarm clock. All her muscles were aching, and she just wanted to stay in bed and hide. But she had appointments, people who needed her to help manage their pain. People who needed to talk to her. The alarm clock rang, and Pam forced herself to face the day.

  Her cuts stung as the shower spray hit them, but she felt almost human again after a good hot soak. While she brushed her teeth, she analyzed what had happened last night. Oksana wasn’t going to stop until she was convinced Nikolai hadn’t told Pam anything. Unfortunately, Nikolai was a lonely old man. And the ease the Reiki gave his joints made him talkative. Nothing that anyone could get a conviction with in court, but enough that could open up some cold cases. He liked to bring her presents, little trinkets, or gifts of tea or cakes. He must have been a real heartbreaker in his time.

  Looking longingly at her jeans, Pam went for dress slacks and low-heeled loafers as a compromise to her bruised feet and legs. Feeling like a professional, she drove to the hospital, thinking about the old neighborhood. Her parents might hate her working at Harding General because it reminded them of their early years of marriage, when her father was dodging bookies. Pam could calculate the vig before she took a day of algebra.

  She knew what drove Piotr to want to belong to a family that would reward loyalty with riches and a shot at the good life. She understood why Gregor wanted power and control. And while she felt a little twinge of guilt about pressing charges, Pam wasn’t about to let the underworld run her life like it had her father’s and brother’s.

  She was a little annoyed that the report she made at the police department took all of five minutes and was met with a grunt and a thank-you.

  “Good morning, Dr. Krupin,” her secretary said, handing her a stack of patient files. “Your four o’clock canceled, but I filled it with a new patient.”

  “Thanks, Joan. Just have them do all the paperwork before you send them in.”

  “Doctor Mastandrea was here looking for you too.”

  She definitely needed coffee before talking to her administrator. Maybe it was time to get out of the hospital and into her own cushy practice. She could set up in one of the Shoreline towns that had retirees with a lot of disposable income. She could work ten to four, or by appointments only. Pam allowed herself a wistful daydream while the coffee perked. Yeah, and she could eat ramen noodles and sleep in her office until she established a clientele. No, thank you. Besides, it felt like she was doing some good here. Not to mention that she was still paying off her student loans. She toasted her Yale diplomas: bachelor of arts in social work, master’s in psychology, PhD in clinical psychology. She was in debt up to her ears.

  In the back of her mind, she could hear her father’s voice. “All you have to do is put a couple of thousand down on fifty to one odds. It comes in, and you’re on your way.” Her fingers itched for a racing sheet, but she washed away the feeling with cream and sugar in her coffee.

  “Pam, may I speak to you?”

  She looked up to see Dr. Chris Mastandrea poke his head in her office. “Sure, can I get you a cup?”

  He frowned at her. “You shouldn’t be drinking that. Green or white tea is much better for you.”

  “I have some of that too, if you’d like.”

  “How’s your workload today?”

  “The usual,” she said, flipping through her messages.

  “Can you take a few of my patients?”

  “For Reiki?”

  He shrugged. “If you can get them on the table.”

  Pam bristled at the implied insult, but then realized she might just be overly sensitive on the subject. When she came here, the hospital had been thrilled at her credentials and less than thrilled that she wanted to do primarily Reiki.

  She got a lot of pushback from the administrators because there was still a stigma that, instead of it being a valid homeopathic, centuries-old practice, it was smoke and mirrors. If it weren’t for her degree, some narrow-minded individuals would have given her the same credibility they gave carnival fortune tellers. The hospital was bucking the traditional system to begin with by having her speak to medical patients. Throwing in alternative therapy choices was almost too much for them, no matter how progressive Harding General was
trying to be.

  Pamela negotiated that she would offer reiki in addition to her counseling, and in the two years since graduation, she was finally establishing a clientele and a little respect among her peers. It helped that energy work was making a dent in some of the more pompous academic journals.

  “One is a young boy, Billy Peterson. He was in a car accident and broke his arm. He was a Little League star pitcher and is talking about killing himself. Twelve years old, and he thinks his life is over.”

  “Of course I’ll see him. Just send me his file.”

  “The other will be a little more difficult. His name is Chick Barnes, just turned eighteen. His parents, whom he still lives with, had him admitted because he had a psychotic episode.”

  “What happened?” she asked, sipping on the coffee.

  “Came home and started smashing things. My guess is he was high, but the drug test was inconclusive. His parents say he’s been hanging around with the Rips lately. It’s just a matter of time before they initiate him. I thought talking with a woman might make him want to continue with his therapy.”

  Pam narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh, come on, Chris. This isn’t The Sopranos.”

  “He’s an impressionable kid. Why not? Besides, he’s been signed in by his parents. Ozzie and Harriet, they weren’t. I think he’s safer here than with them. It’s a long shot, but I’d like to see if you can convince him to stay beyond the mandatory twenty-four-hour stay.”

  “When was he admitted?”

  “Last night.”

  “Fine,” Pam sighed. “I’ll try. Have Joan fit him in.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it. Let me know if I can return the favor.”

  Pam nodded, but she didn’t think that would happen. Chris liked to make promises but never follow up on them. Still, it was in her best interest to keep him happy, since he set her schedule.

  The day was almost half over before Pam remembered to grab something to eat. She was heading back to her office when she recognized the figure hunched in her chair. He had cleaned up slightly, but the golfer’s hat was a dead giveaway. She was about to slip down the hallway and call Joan to get security, when the man looked up and she was arrested again by his clear, green eyes. This wasn’t a drunk. And he had saved her. And she had kicked him in the knee.

  Pam blew out a breath and walked into her waiting area. “I’m Dr. Krupin.” She held her hand out to the man.

  “Ralphie,” he said, engulfing her hand. “Ralphie Brooks.”

  Remembering how fast he moved, a thrill of fear tickled her spine. But he didn’t squeeze it tightly—didn’t squeeze it at all, as if he was afraid of hurting her.

  “Why don’t you come in? You can fill out the rest later.”

  “Almost forgot,” he said and handed her a black bag.

  “My purse! Thank you. I thought it was gone for good.” Pam ignored the curious look on Joan’s face and helped Ralphie into her office. When the door was shut, she supported him while he sank into a chair.

  “I’m very sorry about last night,” she said.

  The man rubbed his knee. “It’s bearable.”

  “I’d like to see if we can do some healing therapy on your knee. Would you care to lie down?”

  “I don’t have to get naked, do I?”

  Pam smiled. “No.”

  “Are you going to get naked?”

  Pam lost her smile. “No. Do I need to call security?”

  “No, ma’am. Sorry. It was just a joke.”

  She tossed her purse in her desk drawer where she usually kept it.

  “Aren’t you going to look inside it?”

  “Should I?” Pam said and glanced through the paperwork he had filled out.

  “Most people would.”

  “Most people wouldn’t have brought it back. You left your address blank.”

  “That’s because I don’t have one.”

  “You’re living on the street.”

  He nodded.

  “Occupation is also blank.”

  “Got laid off a few months ago from the wire factory. Sent a bunch of work over to India. You know how it goes.”

  “Family?”

  “They’re out in Florida. I figure I’ll get out there eventually. Look, are all these questions going to stop my knee from hurting?”

  “The more I know about your history, the easier it will be to concentrate on where to focus the healing energy.”

  “Can’t you just prescribe me some Vicodin or something?”

  “Is that what you want? How would you pay for the prescription? You don’t have any insurance.”

  “You can get me some free samples. It’s better than me suing you.”

  “I think we’re done here, Mr. Brooks. You can have your lawyer contact my lawyer.” Pam closed his folder and walked over to the door.

  “Wait, don’t kick me out. I’m not myself right now. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. I don’t believe in this hocus-pocus stuff, but I don’t have any other choice, you know?”

  “I do. What do you know about Reiki?”

  “I read the Wikipedia article about it at the library.”

  “Well, that’s a good start. What makes you doubt it can work for you?”

  “There’s no clinical proof that it works.”

  “That’s true. So if there’s no clinical proof, why do you think it exists?”

  “Because people believe in it. But I can believe in Santa Claus, and that don’t mean I’m going to get something under the tree.”

  “Maybe it’s because you’ve been naughty.”

  He laughed, and she saw some of the tension ease out of him. He scratched his beard, thoughtfully.

  “The wonderful thing about Reiki is that you don’t have to believe in the ki. It exists. In my practice, I pass my hands over you. You may feel hot or cold. You may feel nothing. Most people at the very least leave my sessions feeling relaxed and refreshed.”

  “Doesn’t sound so bad.” He looked at her assessingly.

  “Mr. Brooks,” she started to say.

  “Ralphie,” he interrupted.

  “I feel very badly about kicking you. I was freaked out, and I just reacted. You didn’t deserve it at all. Please let me try to make this right.”

  “I don’t have a lot of cash right now. Can we do a payment plan?” He looked down at his shoes.

  “No charge. It’s the least I can do. I caused you the pain. I’ll do my best to ease it for you.” She held out her hand. “Come on.”

  Pam helped him up and opened the door to the treatment room that was adjacent to her office. She lowered the table so he could roll on top of it. She was very proud of this room. She called it her oasis.

  “Are you cold? I can get you a blanket.”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Just close your eyes and try to relax. I need you to be quiet for a moment. I’m going to mentally prepare for treatment. Try to clear your mind.”

  Pam closed the door, dimmed the light, and took deep, calming breaths to center herself. She put on soft music and lit the infused healing candles. She had a friend who manifested energy into the candles before pouring them. Pam made it a point to have several types on hand. She could see Ralphie start to fidget on the table.

  “It’s going to be all right,” she said. “After treatment, I’ll have some cool water for you to drink, and we can talk about the experience.”

  “Whatever you say, Doc,” he said and closed his eyes.

  Looking down at him, Pam was struck by how healthy he seemed. She assumed the nights on the streets would have taken a greater toll. But he obviously was just down on his luck and had managed to find a haven or two during his hardship. His clothes were different from last night. He must have changed and showered somewhere before coming in. His chakras were healthy and strong. He was receiving and giving off energy that hummed in the air between them in clear channels. She held her hands up to her forehead, by her third eye, touching the tips of her f
ingers together. She mentally requested the power—the universal energy—to flow through her three times. Holding her hands over his face, she pictured the bruise on his cheekbone healing and the cuts closing.

  Concentrating on his face, she was taken aback by how handsome he was. He looked younger in relaxation. The curly scruff of his beard and his hair were washed and combed. He smelled clean. The energy he was giving back to her was also clean. His thick eyelashes rested on his cheekbones. Why was it that men had the greatest eyelashes? That wide and stubborn jaw relaxed, and his full lips curved in a light smile. She had an unprofessional moment of longing, but she squelched it before it could affect the energy. Frowning, she forced herself to continue the treatment. Moving her hands down his chest and stomach, she paused to channel more ki.

  The knee had dark energy and toxins swirling around. Healing energy rushed through her in a sweet thrill, and she poured it into him, envisioning white light eradicating the darkness. Taking a deep breath, she blew it out, angling her breath over the area. She was rewarded by the feeling of the toxins coming to the surface on their journey out of the body.

  He started to snore lightly and jerked as he woke himself up.

  “It’s all right. Keep relaxing. Concentrate on your breathing. You are safe here.”

  Pam expected more anxiety from him about being in a strange place, but she was happy that his energy was lighter than she'd assumed she would find around him. It meant he hadn’t given up on himself yet.

  “I’m going to lightly touch your knee. You may feel a temperature change or even a buzzing throb. It will not hurt. Is that all right?”

  Ralphie cleared his throat. “Yeah, I guess.”

  Pam once again asked for healing energy to work through her, and she felt a rush of warmth that she hoped was transmitted into his knee and the surrounding areas. She held her hands there for a few moments, sensing the tension leaving his body as his breathing grew deeper.

  Moving her hands above the entire length of his body, she concluded with her ritual closing meditation.