Darkest Instinct

TEN

“ Clever of you to get Dr. LeMonte here in so timely a fashion, Jess,” said Santiva. “How’d you manage it?”

Jessica Coran and Eriq Santiva sat opposite one another in a small and unhealthy little room which the MPD called their task force ready room. Surrounding Jessica, on every wall, were blowup photos of the Night Crawler’s victims and a gallery of other, up till now, only missing young women. Some, Jessica had mentally ruled out as simply missing persons, since they were obviously not of the type that he preferred. Blondes, raven-haired women and ordinary brunettes were not targeted, and this was likely why Judy Templar-more brunette than auburn or redheaded-was spared while her more auburn- haired friend Tammy was taken. In fact, the young victims seemed to bear a haunting similarity to Jessica as a younger woman; it was a disturbing similarity, one she’d kept to herself, one which no one else, apparently, had noticed.

“ I had to bribe Dr. LeMonte to get her here,” she told Eriq.

“ Bribe? How?”

“ The FBI’s picking up her tab.”

He cleared his throat. “A considerable one, I’m sure.”

“ You can bank on it.”

“ What else did you promise her?”

“ A week in Miami.”

“ Jesus, at our expense?”

Jessica nodded.

“ I thought you and Dr. LeMonte were friends.” Between them a VCR remote lay waiting for Quincey and Samernow to arrive for a viewing of the taped session between Dr. LeMonte and Judy Templar.

“ We are friends,” she told Eriq.

He laughed heartily at this.

“ After all, she had to put all her regular patients on hold to fly down to meet with Judy Templar.”

Quincey burst through the door with his usual aplomb and sat heavily in one of the chairs, which hadn’t given an inch for anyone else but made an exception in Quincey’s case. Samernow slowly followed, eyes averted, head bowed, again looking despondent. Jessica wondered at his mood swings.

She got right to business, telling the others why she had called them all in to view the tape. “I think Judy Templar saw the Night Crawler and that inside her head, she has a physical description. Dr. LeMonte and a police sketch artist are working on that as we speak. For now, I would just like you to listen and learn what you can about Patric-”

“ Patric?” asked Quincey, his brows arching.

“ It’s what he calls himself; at least, it’s what Judy Templar knows him as.”

“ No last name?” asked Samernow, alert now.

“ ‘ Fraid not.”

“ Didn’t we have another so-called witness to ID some guy named Patric, Mark?” Quincey asked, searching his memory and his partner’s bloodshot eyes.

“ I don’t know… maybe… Yeah, one of our hundreds of so-called eyewitnesses,” he sarcastically replied.

“ I’m talking about the one you’ve expended so much energy in trying to locate again, Mark.”

Samernow glowered at his partner, then slowly began to talk about the circumstances. “Said she’d been abducted by this beautiful man, taken to a boat and tied up for several days while he repeatedly raped, sodomized and choked her. Said she survived only by faking unconsciousness and escaping and swimming a hundred yards to shore.”

“ When did this happen? Why haven’t you told us about this witness?”

“ She disappeared on us. Left the state, but we have notes.”

“ Get them-after you listen to this.” Jessica clicked on the VCR and TV screen. On the screen were the distressed teen and the exquisitely dressed, very chic psychiatrist, Donna’s hair still with its salon patina and curl.

Jessica then got up and left the men to view the tape alone. She had already been through it three times. She went for a cup of coffee, running the entire scene described by Judy Templar in her mind’s eye. Hearing Judy Templar’s hypnotized drawl in her ear.

Donna had drawn on Judy’s considerable memory of that evening when her best friend. Tammy Sue Sheppard, disappeared down a wharf and to her death.

Judy’s hypnotic trance had her speaking in the third person, a technique Donna LeMonte had used on Jessica on frequent occasions, as it supposedly helped patients separate themselves from the moment.

Coffee in hand, fatigue setting in already at 3 p.m., Jessica was listening to the taped session unfold for the fourth time, without benefit of high technology, merely by using her own internal Internet:

They were all at the Magic Wand, a bar and grill built out over the river where it met the ocean at the tip of the South Miami Beach strip.

Judy frowned in a pretense of anger, repeating the name Patric, mocking Tammy in a half-kidding, half-angry manner, “Patric without the K, Patric without the K,” until it became a boozy chant. Cynthia dug back into her chair and consoled herself with her third Bloody Mary, looking and feeling grumpy. Judy remained standing for a time to watch her exuberant friend Tammy rush after her pickup, literally skipping out to the harbor boats along the planked dock, where she disappeared among the enormous floating city, her form lost to the angles and edges, the rigging and white sails and tall masts which comfortably bobbed in a lullaby of noise created by ocean breeze and swells, turning the poles and ropes into giant chimes there where the Intracoastal Waterway met the incoming ocean tide.

Judy then breathed a great sigh of resignation, turned to Cynthia and asked, “What’s the name of the boat?”

“ What boat?”

“ Cynthia! The one Tammy’s going on. What did she say the name of the boat was?”

“ Oh, I dunno… and I don’t care,” Cynthia said, lounging unladylike in her deck chair.

Judy suddenly called out after Tammy, both curious and a little unsure of her friend’s wisdom at going off with the stranger this second time, however handsome, virile or loaded he might be. Earlier, he had taken Tammy Sue to a nearby restaurant, plying her with wine and shellfish.

“ Forget it,” said Cynthia. “She’s long gone. I thought when he came back here, that he was going to… that he might… that maybe they were… you know…”

“ No, I don’t know,” Judy replied, staling across at her boozed-up friend. “Know what?”

“ Ask us to join ‘em.”

“ Join ‘em for what?”

“ Judy, you’re so mired in your middle-class mind.”

“ God, no… not even drunk, Cyn-”

“ He’s such a hunk, though…”

“ You’re serious. You were going to suggest that we all three do him, weren’t you?”

“ No! Yes! No, maybe… I didn’t suggest it. His eyes suggested it. Did you see the way he was undressing me and you while he had Tammy on his arm?”

“ God, you, Cyn… You would do it, wouldn’t you?”

“ Well, I didn’t say I would, no.”

“ A three-way! God, Cyn, you’re awful.”

Cynthia flailed her drunken hands in the air. “I just thought that maybe Tammy’d have the decency to invite us to join them, so we could get to, you know, know him, too.”

“ Hell, I’ve taught Tammy better’n that, Cyn.”

Cynthia only frowned and waved her now-empty glass.

Judy suggested, “Let’s go have a look at the boat while they’re pulling away. Get the call numbers, you know, just in case.”

“ Call numbers? Planes have call numbers, not boats.”

“ Boats have identifying numbers, too. It’s the law.”

“ I didn’t know that.”

“ Well, you grew up in Indiana. I wouldn’t expect you to know.”

“ But we can’t go traipsing after them.”

“ Just out to the end of the dock is all. Tammy told me the guy wants to take her to the Caribbean.”

“ Tonight?”

“ Well, no… I don’t think tonight, but sometime.”

“ Damn, he gets better and better all the time. Where in the Caribbean?”

“ I think she said the Caribbean… isn’t the Cayman Islands in the Caribbean Sea?”

“ Geography’s not my best subject; never was,” replied Cynthia.

“ So suppose she says yes and they just, you know, disappear for two weeks on that gorgeous sailing ship? What’re we going to tell Tammy’s parents when they call?”

“ God, they’d flip, wouldn’t they? I’d pay to see that.”

“ So, come on. Let’s at least go see the boat off.”

“ But it won’t look right. She’ll think we’re jealous.”

“ Goddamnit, Cynthia, we are jealous.”

“ Yeah, but she doesn’t have to know it.”

“ Cynthia, Cynthia… she already knows that much.”

“ But to give her the satisfaction? No way!”

“ Well, I’m going to watch them shove off.”

“ Not before you dig deep into your pockets.”

“ What?”

“ This’s your round of drinks, remember?” Cynthia waved the empty again, this time like a flag.

“ Oh, yeah… sure…”

Judy Templar located the necessary cash and tip, dropped it on the table and started away. She returned, however, for one last-ditch effort to get Cynthia to tag along. “You coming?”

“ Naw… Think I’ll just sit here.”

“ Come on, Cyn… We’ll just pretend to be looking at the boats. She won’t know any different. She’s too preoccupied with Paaaaatric-without-the-K anyway. Come on, Cyn… Cyn…”

“ Oh, all right, all right. Stop your whining. God…” They’d gotten up to go toward the dock when two young men not quite their ages intercepted them, asking if they’d care to dance. Judy whispered a bit of feminine philosophy in Cyn’s ear, saying, “What is it about a place like this? It never fails that in a place like this, the losers always find us. Are we wearing signs on our backs or what?”

One of the band members hit a bad note and it brought Judy’s attention full circle to the musicians and the fact that some people were dancing.

Cynthia wondered what her friend had just said even as she whispered back, “What is it about places like this that attract boys too young to drink and too cash-poor to buy me a drink?”

Both of them giggled, trying to mask their amusement with their hands and failing miserably to do so. Then they each grew more serious and stared at the other for the right answer to their would-be suitors.

Finally, Judy Templar said, “I’m sorry. I’m just going for a walk.”

Cynthia said, “I’ll dance.”

That left one of the boys tagging along in Judy’s footsteps toward the boats. He introduced himself as Todd Simon, said his father ran the local True Value hardware, said he went to nearby Sea Breeze High School, said he was graduating come June, enrolling at Florida State in Tallahassee in the fall, and said he thought she was “about” the prettiest girl he’d ever met.

But Judy only half listened, searching as she was for the boat that Tammy had gotten aboard. She scanned left and right, and when she finally zeroed in on it, she found that it had already been expertly maneuvered beyond the docks, and that it was now far out into the river-so far, in fact, that she couldn’t make out the name at the stern or the numbers below the bow.

A wicked thought flitted through her brain now: how she might disrupt Tammy’s romantic evening so easily by reporting the boat to the harbor patrol or even the Coast Guard, telling them she thought Patric was drunk when he pulled out of port and that maybe they should just have a look. If she had the name and numbers off the boat, it would be a simple enough joke to pull off, but she would have a tough time describing the boat without the details. Still, it was a stunning sailing vessel; not too many like her in the harbor, and if Judy worked fast…

As she stared out at the boat, lit now with lights that made it appear enchanted, she felt another wave of distrust of the man who’d whisked Tammy off, and she felt an uncomfortable, indescribable and grim sense of concern for Tammy’s well-being. She even thought about a line in a poem Mrs. Hargrave had kept shoving down their throats in high school, something by Coleridge or Keats or somebody like that which said: A savage place! as holy- arid enchanted/As e er beneath a waning moon was haunted/ By woman wailing for her demon-lover!

Maybe she was just jealous of Tammy; maybe she felt more vindictive about how the evening had gone than she wanted to admit. Maybe she was worse off than Cynthia in that way.“Bullshit,” she said aloud, alerting her “date” to her disquiet. Her fears were unfounded, she told herself. They didn’t compute. Tammy, like herself, had gone off with strangers met at bars before, so what was the big deal? Was it something her mother always said? That if it looks or sounds too good to be true, then it is too good to be true?

Judy continued to stare out at the boat as it slipped further into the distance. There was something about the boat which triggered her concern, but she wasn’t sure what it was. Earlier, when Tammy, Cynthia and she were idly playing with the swizzle sticks in their drinks, they’d seen the boat approach, and the sun’s final, shimmering rays had made it appear something out of a fairy tale. None of them had expected the man who got off that boat to come near them, but he had. He’d honed right in on them, on Tammy in particular, catching her up with his eyes, asking if he could buy them all a drink. But soon he had somehow maneuvered Tammy away from the other two.

Judy had watched the boat approach, had seen the name of the boat and had wondered about it, but she couldn’t recall it now. It had seemed odd to her, but then people named boats with words that spoke of very personal moments in their lives all the time, so the names of boats were often colorful, filled with innuendo or double entendre, like Money Pit or Reckless Nerve. Still, this one was just strange.

And there was something else nagging at Judy as she stood staring out at the boat in the twilight of the harbor lamps. Those thick black nylon ropes hanging over the bowsprit and at the stern seemed out of place, unnecessary bindings. Everyone nowadays used thick nylon ropes, but there was something odd about these lines.

“ How damned many lines do you need to secure a boat?” she asked herself aloud now while the boy beside her scrunched up his nose and raised his shoulders.

Todd Simon finally replied with a question, reminding her of his presence beside her. “What’re you talking about?’’ He continued to stand there, staring out at the distant lights of the boat with her, not knowing why.

It did seem odd to her. She knew a little about sailing, had taken a class years before, and these lines were in excess of what was normally used on a sailing vessel, although there were always innumerable lines. There was something else strange about the boat, too, something odd. Still, it was the several catch lines or ropes, thick nylon things dangling in the water, that stayed with Judy. Each line curled over the edge like a waiting serpent.

They couldn’t be anchor lines-not that many-and yet the ropes didn’t float or waft atop the water as one might expect rope to do if it’d simply been forgotten and left to dangle overboard. Even now, in the dark and in the distance, she could see the reflection of light off three distinctly different slick nylon ropes. Maybe it’s just where he stashes his beer, she thought; but he s got an entire galley below for that, she reminded herself, careful now not to ask Todd anything more. Each of the three lines she focused in on had some weight at the other end. Her curiosity remained unsatisfied. Foolish, she thought, being something of a sailor herself since she’d taken it up in college. Why intentionally create drag at the back of the boat that way?

Also below the reflecting light out over the bay, she could just make out Tammy’s silhouette pressed up against his. They were kissing, dancing, making out on the boat-so far just harmless petting. And since the boat was sitting still now out in the middle of the harbor, it didn’t appear that Patric was going to take Tammy too far off.

Tammy’s a big girl, she finally told herself. She can take care of herself.

“ I sure would like to dance,” said Todd Simon in her ear. “But a walk around the pier’s nice, too… I guess.”

“ You wanna dance?” she asked loudly, almost frightening her young suitor. “Then come on, we’ll dance.” She had to get her mind off Tammy and Patric, one way or another; her little fixation was only hurting herself. She hated Tammy more than just a little for having stolen her place beside Patric without the K. Forget it… forget her… forget him, she firmly admonished herself.

Still, the entire time she danced with the heir to the True Value in South Miami Beach, Judy thought about Tammy’s turn of luck with the accented Patric, who had deftly moved his huge sailing vessel from port within minutes. It was so beautiful, the kind of sailing vessel you dreamed of owning. It was trimmed with durable East Indian teakwood, that lovely golden-brown sheen all around, always looking as if just varnished.

And Patric’s eyes were so beautiful and alluring, and his voice so scrumptiously foreign, Australian perhaps, but more likely British, with a little cockney turn to it…

God, Tammy, she thought as she twirled about the pier to the sounds of Bob Marley’s inept imitators, you’re so freaking lucky, girl…

“ She actually saw the guy?” asked Quincey, amazed. “She and her friend both saw him and the boat he used?”

“ And spoke to him!” said Santiva.

Jessica was just reentering the room when Mark Samernow griped, “Why didn’t the dumb bitch report this information when it happened?”

“ She did,” said Jessica.

“ What? When?”

“ Why haven’t we heard about it sooner?”

The two detectives were clearly upset.

“ She filed a missing persons report,” Santiva informed them. “In Miami?”

“ Precinct 15 took her report over two weeks ago, but it somehow, through human error, did not get into the computer.” Jessica paced the room, adding, “She came back to check on progress about Tammy Sue’s disappearance. When Missing Persons realized what they had, they sent her over to us.”

Eriq exasperatedly added, “So even our attempt to compile and network with all existing information on the Night Crawler hasn’t been a hundred percent, gentlemen. Can we get some corroboration, on what Judy Templar says, out of this Cynthia? And how do we find her? And who’s this other eyewitness you spoke of?”

“ I’ve got all the notes on her, an Aeriel Monroe. I’m still putting a lot of my notes on-line myself,” confessed Samernow. “Siie may also go under the name of Lov- ette.”

“ Goddamn you, Mark!” shouted Quincey, losing control, kicking over his chair and smashing both his massive fists onto the table, causing the remote to hop twice. “You’ve fucked up once too often on this case.”

“ I’ll get the information to you, Agent Santiva. You’ll have it within the hour, on-line,” Samernow promised.

“ Meanwhile, see what you can do to relocate the girl who gave it to you.”

Quincey assured him that they would find her, then left the room ahead of his partner, the steam of rage still rising from his head. Before the door closed on the partners, Jessica heard Quincey say to Samernow, “You drop the ball on this one more time and we’re through, Mark. I find myself a new partner.”

Santiva heaved a sigh and frowned. “Let’s go down to see how Judy Templar’s doing with the sketch artist. What about this Cynthia, the girlfriend of the girlfriend? You think LeMonte might shake something additional from her?”

“ From what Judy tells me, no. Cynthia’s in worse shape over this thing than Judy, and she’s been unable even to speak to Judy about it.”

“ Sounds like her level of intoxication that night may’ve been way over the limit. Just the same…”

“ If Quince and Samernow can come up with the other witness-and near victim as he tells it-she could be a much more reliable source. If their stories match, then they’re both credible. Let’s give it time.”

Santiva nodded and made for the door while Jessica retrieved the taped session which had come to mean so much to them all. On the way downstairs in the elevator, Eriq asked Jessica, “How much store do you think we can put in Templar’s testimony?”

“ My gut reaction?”

He nodded.

“ A great deal. I think she’s sincere and very observant.”

“ What she said about the ropes hanging over the bow…” he mused, letting the words linger in the air between them. “If those damned reporters had been kept back, no- body’d have learned about the black nylon rope we took off the bodies today. As it is… well, she told me that what got her to return to us-to authorities-in the first place was the report of the black nylon ropes used in the murders. It’s not as if she’s trying to put one over. I think the news about the ropes triggered a lot of pent-up guilt in her.”

“ And Dr. LeMonte? She believes the girl is telling the truth?”

“ She says she hasn’t a doubt.”

They stepped off the elevator and located the Police Sketch Artist sector of the MPD, where Judy Templar sat before a man who kept asking her question after question about noses, eyes, ears, chins, cheeks, temples, foreheads, facial hair, hairlines and hair in general. Donna LeMonte stood nearby, offering encouragement.

Jessica took Donna’s hand in hers; they’d become the closest of friends over the years, Jessica respecting the hard- edged, tough-talking Dr. LeMonte not only for her professional acumen but for her personal triumphs. She had herself weathered many horrid hardships to overcome problems in life, the most awful being the loss of her child to leukemia and the subsequent divorce from her husband, stemming from the dissolution of her family due to the dreadful disease. She started over late in life, returned to college, finished and went on to graduate study in medicine and psychiatry to become the best head doctor Jessica had ever known.

They exchanged warm regards now, Santiva noticing the warmth and closeness in the firm hand-holding they shared. Jessica next introduced Eriq to Dr. LeMonte, whom he had heard of but whom he had never met. Dr. LeMonte didn’t work for the FBI, but she had counseled many of its agents over the years. She appeared ten, maybe twelve years Jessica’s senior, but she was a strikingly handsome woman.

“ You may’ve worked a minor miracle here, Doctor,” Eriq confided. “It may be the first break we’ve had in this case.”

“ And hopefully, it will lead us to this demon,” agreed Jessica.

“ I’m happy that it has worked out so well, happy to’ve done what I can,” she whispered back, “but I don’t think I’m finished just yet. Judy here”-she intentionally raised her voice so that Judy could hear-”she’s not doing so well on the specifics, but I think she’s agreed to another round of hypnosis, with an eye to details, facial and otherwise, of our mysterious Patric without the K. Haven’t you, dear?”

Judy bit her lip and reached out to take Jessica’s hand now, saying, “I’m trying my best, but it’s just no good.”

“ Do you feel up to another hypnosis session with Dr. LeMonte, Judy?”

“ I’m tired, but… okay, I guess.”

“ Good… then we’ll set it up.”

“ We’ll do it right here, right now,” countered Donna LeMonte, “while we’ve got this young man here to draw from your words, Judy.” Judy and the young officer with the sketch pad exchanged a long, meaningful look that ended in smiles. Jessica realized that a flirtation was in full swing. Maybe something good could come of this nightmare Judy was reliving time and again.

Donna had Judy under in a matter of seconds. She asked her to revisit the night of Tammy’s disappearance, to go back to the wharf where she stood beside Todd Simon (who had already been interrogated, found lacking in information and released) and to stare out across the water at the boat and the man holding Tammy in his arms. She next asked her to return to her table when Patric was sitting across from her and whispering in Tammy’s ear.

“ Tell me now, Judy,” began Donna. “What does his hair look like?”

“ Raven-black, near blue; he may’ve used a gel. It was slicked back, wavy.”

The artist began sketching on a new pad, listening intently now.

“ His forehead, it was like… like…,” Donna encouraged.

‘ ‘ Covered with a shock of hair on the right, but large on the left.”

“ Clear-skinned or blemished?”

“ Blemished a bit, like a large freckle or maybe a birthmark where the hair lay over the forehead. It was the only imperfect thing about him.”

“ Anything special about his eyes?”

“ Oh, was there! They were so blue, I wondered if they were real or contacts.”

“ Eyebrows?”

“ Thick but not bushy, perfectly arched.”

“ Anything else?”

“ Set deep in, below the brow.”

“ And his ears?”

“ His hair lay over them, but what I could see of them… well, they were well-proportioned, not too large, but not small either.”

The sketch artist worked furiously now to keep up with Judy and Dr. LeMonte, working next on cheeks, nose and lips, in that order, Dr. LeMonte asking if he smiled a lot or remained aloof. Whether he spoke often or only when spoken to.

“ He spoke mostly to Tammy, in whispers, licking at her ear, the bastard.”

“ How tall was he, Judy? Judy?”

“ Not terribly, maybe five-eleven, six foot.”

“ Weight?”

“ I don’t know.”

“ Estimate it; your best guess, Judy.”

“ One seventy or seventy-five, maybe.” Soon the team had a sketch, which held Jessica’s rapt attention as she stared into deepening, glinting eyes that seemed to be alive on the paper. After a moment, the sketch was placed on the table and turned away until Judy was brought from her trance and asked if she was ready to look at what Brent Conway, the artist, had created.

“ I… I think so,” she confided, steeling herself as Officer Conway reached out to lift up the picture.

The effect made her nearly jump from her seat. “Ahhh, God, it’s-it’s him,” she swore. “My God, it’s him.”

“ Excellent,” said Eriq, raising a fist in a show of victory. “Excellent work.”

“ I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes,” confessed Conway.

“ Me neither,” said Samernow from behind them. He’d obviously stepped into the room earlier. His hands were full with a file folder, some loose envelopes and a cigarette.

“ I’ve got the information on the other possible witness. She said in her interview the guy had an accent, possibly British, and that he used the name Patric Allain. Says his boat had a name on it with a T figuring prominently, but she wasn’t sure of the complete name.”

“ Startling cross-references, Detective,” said Jessica, taking the paperwork from him.

“ Was Quincey able to locate the girl?” asked Eriq.

“ We’ve got relatives we’re checking. We’ll locate her. Meanwhile, you’ve got everything we have on her.” He indicated the file now in Jessica’s possession.

“ I’ll see to it the information gets keyed into the computer; see what other kinds of matchups and cross- references we get, if any,” Jessica replied to this. She then turned to Judy Templar and asked, “Does that name, Allain, ring any bells with you, Judy?”

Judy shook her head. “All that Tammy told us was that his name was Patric, spelled without the K,” she repeated, dropping her eyes. “What about the boat name having a T in it?” Jessica pursued.

“ No, I told you, we didn’t pay any attention to the name, and I couldn’t make it out when I decided maybe I should, you know, pay attention.”

Jessica squeezed her hand. “You’ve got to stop blaming yourself for this awful thing he did, Judy… Judy…”Donna LeMonte stared intently upon the scene, and when Jessica looked up into her clear green eyes Donna realized that the pupil-Jessica-had now become the teacher, the healer. Her words were exactly those spoken by Donna to her many years ago, when Jessica had first come to Donna seeking absolution in the death of Otto Boutine, a wonderful man who’d died because Jessica had made a fatal mistake in judgment while tracking down Mad Matthew Matisak. Boutine, Jessica’s first true love, had given his life to preserve hers.

“ It’s not my fault, huh?” asked Judy, pulling away and going for the door. “Tell that to Tammy’s parents, her sister and brother. And while you’re at it, tell them it wasn’t Cynthia’s fault, either. Go ahead! Tell them!”

“ Judy… Judy!” Jessica started to go after the young woman, but Donna stopped her. “Give her time, Jess.”

Officer Conway quickly handed over the sketch to a female assistant, telling her to run it through the usual process and to get copies out to every precinct. He then pushed past them, in search of Judy, saying, “I’ll see that Miss Templar gets home all right.”

“ We’ll need to keep those copies in-house for now,” Santiva told the assistant. “Send them out to the precincts, like your boss said, but with a word of caution. Nothing on this goes to the press as yet. We have a deal with the Herald, remember?”

“ Yes, sir.” She was off and running.

“ Ahhhh, I know I’m kinda new here and all,” said Donna LeMonte, “but am I to understand that you’re going to willfully withhold information vital to the safety of every woman in this city, because you’ve struck a deal with the local press? Excuse me, but-”

“ We don’t release anything to the press on a case without a powwow, Dr. LeMonte, and you… well, you’re not involved in policy, so I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it tonight.”

“ And you’re part of this policy-making, Jessica?” she asked, turning to her friend with an accusing eye.

“ We’ve had to make certain concessions to the Herald. It has to do with the fact that the killer has been sending them exclusives, like I’ve told you, Donna.”

“ Well, just how long do you intend to withhold information like this from the public so that you can play games with this madman?”

“ As I said, that is none of your concern,” replied Santiva.

She glowered at him. “None of my concern. I beg to differ, Agent Santiva.”

“ Look, you’re on retainer; we’re paying your bill, and I understand that you’re intending on a weeklong stay, to catch some sun and surf. Why don’t you get at it?”

“ That young lady who just left here is likely going to need months, if not years, of psychiatric support, and I’ve got to sift the countryside here for someone capable of helping her. I won’t be able to long distance. In the meantime, she thinks she just possibly helped to save another Tammy or maybe even herself from harm by this fiend you’re after. Now what in hell do I tell her?” Santiva’s Cuban ire was up. “You don’t tell her a thing.”. “We’ll release the sketch to the public when we as a team feel that it is right to do so,” interjected Jessica, trying to mediate between her boss and her best friend while wondering how things had blown up so quickly.

“ And not before,” Santiva added.

“ Donna,” Jessica tried to soothe her friend, “it’s policy.”

“ Fine nonsense to hide behind: policy. Jess, I never thought you’d stoop to this.”

Donna stormed out, leaving Jessica feeling drained and deflated. She and Eriq exchanged a shaky glance and then she asked, “Why not release the sketch now, immediately? Give it to the Herald and everybody else.”

“ You know’s well as I do: It could send our man fleeing into oblivion faster than a freak wave.”

“ Yeah, I know that.”

“ It happened in Hawaii when you got close to Ko wona, didn’t it? You know that the consequences can be devastating.”

I also know that maybe, just maybe, if we’d gotten Kowona’s picture out twenty-four hours before we did, a young woman I saw tied to a wall and mutilated with swords from head to toe might be alive today.”

“ There’s no room for argument on this one, Jess. This one’s my call, and I say law enforcement and need-to- know only until we know more about this Patric Allain. We’re armed now with a name and a full description. We’re getting close; let’s don’t blow it now out of some notion about serving the public good when we know that the public doesn’t heed a damn thing we say in the first place.”

“ How long?”

“ Whatever it takes.”

“ How long do we withhold this from the Herald then?”

He bit back on his lower lip. “I don’t know.”

“ We made a deal with Merrick.”

“ I want to take this carefully and by the book.”

“ There are no books to go by here, only one’s instincts, and mine tell me that-”

“ I want to get a sculptor in here to do a 3-D bust from the sketch before we go anywhere else with it. Then, maybe we take it to the next level.”

She slowly repeated, “We had a deal with Merrick.”

“ There’re others to consider in this besides Merrick and Judy Templar and Dr. LeMonte, Jess.”

Jessica relented, backing away. “Oh, I see… others.” Her tone mocked him.

He pursued. “Don’t give me that, Jess. You knew going in that this was as politically red hot as coals from hell; that every bloody politician and hack in this city is trying to make hay one way or another with these killings. The mayor and the city council are concerned about-”

“- about the downturn in revenues from a distrustful tourist population, I’m sure. As if all these money matters matter!”

“ We don’t work in a fucking vacuum, Doctor. We never did, and you of all people should know that. Wasn’t it that way when you were head of pathology at Washington Memorial?”

She clenched her teeth and fists and turned away from him. She thought of the political ramifications of the case in New Orleans the year before, of the dirty politics in Hawaii that had gotten an innocent young man killed, of Chicago and New York, L.A. and D.C., where politics also ruled, holding sway over the lives of individuals who couldn’t fathom what hit them until it was too late.

“ Nothing’s changed on that front, Jessica. It never will.”

“ You told Donna that releasing the police sketch of the killer would be a team decision. Well, I’m part of this team, and I say we release it immediately to the Herald for tonight’s late edition, and soon after to the rest of the media.”

“ Sorry, but this half of the team disagrees with you, and I’ve got a little more experience in dealing with personalities like this Patric guy than you do, so I’ll ask you to bow to my judgment in this instance.”

“ But, Eriq-”

“ No more discussion, Jess. For now, we leave it alone. We forward what we have only to law enforcement officials with the disclaimer that it’s not to be released to the press. Meantime, I’ll take what we have to the mayor’s office, and from there it’ll be filtered through the governor’s mansion in Tallahassee.”

Her stare forced a cold, steel lance through his chest now. “You’re going to withhold this even from other law enforcement agencies until you get the nod from the governor, aren’t you?”

“ It goes a little higher than that, Jess. There are several former presidents and White House execs and senators who live in this state, and-”

“ Christ, I don’t want to hear it, Eriq.”

“ And there’s something in the wind about a spot on America’s Most Wanted if we can fit into their programming schedule, which-”

“ Are you nuts, Eriq, or just ambitious? I know you think you’re Errol Flynn but-”

“ Goddamnit, Jess, you haven’t got a clue. This isn’t about me or you or Tammy Sue Sheppard. This is about Allison Norris, the senator’s daughter, and by God, we’ve got-I’ve got-orders, Jessica… orders I can’t just disobey. Paul Zanek is no longer in Washington because he ignored orders once too often. You know where he is now?’’

A part of her was curious about Zanek; obviously Paul was not in cushy Puerto Rico after all. She exploded, “Donna was right: Policy stinks, Eriq.” She marched from the room.