By reason of insanity

9

Catherine O'Rourke stared at her computer screen. The day after the Carver kidnapping, her article had appeared on the front page of the afternoon edition. The next day, in both the morning and afternoon editions, her story about the history of the twins' adoption had again been front page, above the fold. Now Catherine's editor was breathing down her neck for yet another story on day three, something worthy of another front-page placement, and Catherine was drawing blanks.

The investigation had stalled. A press conference held by Virginia Beach Police Chief Arthur Compton just a few hours earlier had been a waste of time. The police were following all leads. There had been no ransom demand. They had not been able to find any footprints, fingerprints, or DNA evidence.

Cat stared at the photos of cute little Chi Ying and Cail Ying, photos she had tacked up on her cubicle wall. The twins had round, pudgy faces and bright little eyes. She couldn't believe that anyone would harm them. Money had to be the motive. But why no ransom note? Would the babies be sold on the black market instead?

Cat put the final touches on her sidebar story about the Carver family. The Carvers' law firm, of course, was prominently featured. Three generations of Carver men had made their mark as criminal defense lawyers. There was no case too controversial for the Carvers, Catherine had written. To beef up the story, she had quoted a few respected defense attorneys whom she had called earlier that day. A young lawyer named Marc Boland had given her the best sound bite: "The Carvers believe in the Constitution. They believe they are doing the dirty work that our founders envisioned when they set up our legal system. Their primary operating principle is that somebody has to represent those who can't speak for themselves."

The sidebar contained a paragraph of titillating speculation about the Carvers' nefarious clients and numerous enemies. Could the kidnapping be an act of revenge?

But sidebars didn't make the front page. Cat needed a story.

Her source at the police department called thirty minutes before deadline. She wanted to rush him, but she knew from experience that she couldn't short-circuit his routine.

"Are you using your earpiece?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Take it out and pick up the handset."

Catherine waited a moment. He was a great source, but his paranoia could be frustrating. "Okay."

"This is off the record, not for attribution, and not for publication unless I specifically say so."

"Right."

"You would go to jail, if necessary, before disclosing my name."

"Absolutely."

"You won't give me up to your editor, your fellow writers, or even the paper's attorney."

"Especially the paper's attorney." Catherine checked her watch. One more set of questions before he would start talking.

"Even in the face of extreme torture, you will protect my confidentiality."

The first time he had said this, Catherine thought he was serious. She had since learned it was just his quirky way of driving the point home. "Do you have anything in particular in mind?" she asked.

"As a matter of fact, I was researching this torture method perfected by the Romans. They would strap a person to a dead body, face-to-face, until the decay from the dead body started rotting the live person."

"Ugh," Cat gasped. "Where do you come up with these things?"

"Would you talk under those circumstances?"

"Of course."

The source paused, another part of the game. "Okay, I'll take my chances."

"I'm listening." Catherine wedged the phone against her ear, freeing her hands to type.

"This is not for publication, but we have a note."

"I thought the chief said there was no ransom note."

"There isn't. That's the problem." The source paused again, and Catherine heard the seriousness in his tone. Fun and games were over. "We believe the kidnapper has killed the children."

Catherine glanced at the photos and felt her chest tighten. "Based on what?"

"I can't say. There are things we have to withhold for strategic reasons."

Cat hated these games, but she kept her tone even. She could not afford to alienate her source. "What can you say, then?"

"This kidnapping is not an isolated event. We believe it's related to another kidnapping that took place in northern Virginia about two months ago. The powers that be don't want a widespread panic, but I can't justify withholding this from the public. If I had little kids, I'd want to know."

"Does that mean I can publish the link?"

"As long as you don't identify me."

Cat sucked in a breath as her fingers flew across the keyboard. Serial kidnappings! "How do you know this?" she asked.

"I can't say."

"But you've got to give me something. If I can't corroborate this, my editors will never let me run it."

The source paused to give the impression he was thinking this through. Catherine waited him out. She knew he had already anticipated this concern.

"The kidnapped baby in Washington, D.C., was Rayshad Milburn, a three-month-old baby taken in a parking garage from his mother, Sherita Johnson. The father is a twice-convicted felon named Clarence Milburn who beat a rape and murder charge several months ago based on an invalid warrantless search. The cops thought they had exigent circumstances, but the judge disagreed."

Cat typed furiously while processing this new piece of the puzzle. "Was he represented by the Carvers?"

"No. But the MOs for the crimes were very similar. In both cases, a victim was immobilized and then injected with the same type of powerful sedative. There are other connections, but that's all I can say for now."

"What other connections? What else can you give me?"

"We never had this phone call," her source said. "Not unless you get tied to that rotting corpse."

"I understand," Catherine said.

Without another word, her source hung up the phone.