Peter was sitting at the edge of Diane's bed, his legs straight-braced out in front of him, when David entered the room. An ortho cane leaned against the base of the bed, but David knew better than to ask about vacillations in Peter's condition. Peter moved to rise. "Please," David said. "Sit."
"Nonsense," Peter said. He turned around, gripping the bar at the foot of the bed and backing himself slowly onto his feet, then he pivoted, faced David, and shook his hand gravely. "Good God, what happened to you?"
Diane craned to see around Peter. "Your lip, David. Did he attack you?"
David walked over to Diane, hesitated for a moment, then pushed back her bangs and kissed her on the forehead. She looked surprised by this show of tenderness. Peter did not.
"Don't get affectionate on me," Diane said. "I might not recognize you."
David turned to Peter. "I'm so glad you were in the ER when I called."
"Motorcycle versus streetlight," Peter said. "Crotch rockets indeed."
"What took you so long?" Diane asked.
"I've spent the last hour buttoning down the ER and dealing with security."
"Why?" Diane asked.
"I've just come from Clyde's apartment. I tracked him there and we had a confrontation. I escaped and gave Yale his address, but he probably fled before the cops got there. I thought he might come here."
"You went alone?" Peter sank slowly back onto the bed. "Are you mad?"
The question hung heavily in the silence. A loud rapping startled them, and David tensed as the door swung open. Yale, Dalton, and Jenkins entered the room, looking extremely displeased. Jenkins closed the door behind him firmly.
"What are you doing barging in here?" Peter said. "This is a patient's room." He struggled to stand, and Jenkins took note of his efforts with a calm disdain.
"We'd like to talk to you alone," Yale said to David. David noted genuine anger in his voice-it seemed more than a front for Jenkins's and Dalton's benefit.
David crossed his arms. "You can talk to me here. I don't mind if they're here."
"We do."
"Then you can talk to me in the presence of my attorney."
"Listen to me, you motherfucker," Jenkins growled. "How about we jack your ass on the burg you committed at Clyde's pad, stick you in the general population at County, and have a big bad jig try you on as a condom. How about that?"
Yale turned neatly on his soft leather shoes, facing Jenkins. "Out," he said softly. Jenkins did not move, and Yale walked over and opened the door. "Out," he said again.
With a glare at David, Jenkins straightened his shoulders and walked from the room. Yale closed the door and nodded at Diane. "I apologize for that."
"I should hope so," Diane said. "That's the first time I've ever been exposed to that kind of fucking language."
"I take it you didn't find him," David said.
"You stepped in it proper this time, Spier," Dalton said.
David studied Yale; he seemed to be struggling between the competing needs to vent his anger or arrive at a more constructive state of affairs. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, you fucked up," Dalton said. "Our best bet for catching him would've been you finding the address, getting the fuck out of Dodge, and calling the police so we could sitting-duck his alkali-throwing ass."
"That's what I was planning to do," David said. "But I thought there was a woman trapped in there."
Yale looked puzzled. "Well, you thought wrong," he said. "And even if you were correct, you should have left her in there rather than risking your civilian rear end."
Dalton ticked off the counts on his fingers. "Obstruction of justice, interfering with a police officer, burglary, contaminating a crime scene."
"Contaminating a crime scene?" David said. "But how? I wore gloves."
"Gloves. Great." Dalton crossed his arms. "Did you breathe near anything? Pick your teeth? Lean against a wall? Scratch your head? Flush a toilet? Turn on a sink? You don't have the slightest idea of how to enter a crime scene. Gloves." He shook his head disdainfully. "You've been fucking up this investigation since day one."
"I've been trying to work with you from the beginning." David caught Yale's eye and Yale turned his head slightly left-barely a shake. David should make no reference to the fact that he and Yale had spoken off record in the past.
"That's not your fucking job, Doc," Dalton said. "And in fact, we might just clink your sorry ass to keep it out of our way."
"I think you have it wrong," David said. "I have more on this than you do."
Heads swiveling, Peter and Diane watched the exchange with surprised interest.
"Then you'd better fucking spill, because if one more woman gets-"
Yale held up his hands, arms spread. A humorously saintly pose. Everyone calmed and looked at him. "Listen," he said quietly to David. "If I arrest you, it'll be a big hassle and your lawyer will ride my ass for years. To be honest, I don't have the time right now-or the resources-to commit to that."
David resisted the urge to respond, sensing that Yale was working an angle of some sort.
Yale turned to Dalton. "He's involved whether we like it or not. We might as well use him. At least he's a resourceful pain in the ass."
Talking cop to cop as though David were not in the room.
"He'll talk," Dalton said. "He'll have to talk."
"But in the interest of time, I say we give the bastard an out on charges and get what he's giving immediately. If he wants to agree to it. If he doesn't, we'll go the arrest-lawyer route."
"I'll agree to it," David said, a bit too quickly. He hoped Dalton would perceive it as his being scared, rather than his implicitly picking up the line of Yale's agenda.
Dalton's soft, misshapen face seemed to shift as he assessed David.
"There's a lot I'd like to fill you in on," David said.
"Fine," Dalton finally said. "You're now our most overeducated informant. Spill."
"Let's talk about this privately," Yale said, indicating Diane and Peter.
"No," David said. "They can contribute."
Dalton pulled his notepad from his back pocket and flipped it open. "Let's take it from the top, Doc. And include that shit about the woman you thought you heard."
Yale held up a hand when David opened his mouth. "Details," he said.
David told Yale and Dalton the events of the past few days, fabricating only when necessary so he wouldn't have to mention Ed. David was grateful to them for not making light of the porn mix-up. For the most part, they listened attentively, Dalton shaking his head now and then. When he related his discovery of Connolly's study and his mother's cover-up, he noticed Peter's shocked expression. Diane blanched at his description of his confrontation with Clyde. When he finished, everyone appeared to be in a state of mild shock.
"What happened tonight when you got to his apartment?" David asked.
"He cleared out before we got there," Dalton said. "Took his car. Thanks to your intervention, he's now roving. We got a whole new world of variables."
"You wouldn't even know where he lived to begin with if it wasn't for me."
"SID lifted some vaginal secretion from his sheets, so we're questioning the female apartment residents and some hookers in the area to see if we can obtain more information about that," Yale said. He paused. "What's wrong?"
"I guess I'm just surprised he's had any sexual contact. He's a real loner."
Dalton studied David angrily. "You feel sorry for him, don't you?"
"I think he's pitiful."
Dalton gestured to Diane, keeping his eyes on David. "Pitiful. That's it, huh?"
Yale shot him a sideways look. Wrong approach. David wasn't the type to get worked up over having his manhood questioned, and he was impressed that Yale realized that. "I'm answering your question," David replied evenly, "not starting a playground fight."
"And this experiment shit. I bet you think that explains him."
"This man, as a child, was systematically exposed to snakes, darkness, and blinding lights, and denied attention, affection, and nurturing. That he lacks gentleness is not his most surprising quality. Nor that he's dysfunctional."
Dalton's cheeks colored with anger. "Dysfunctional," he repeated disdainfully. "Do you have any idea how elusive this man is? We see it all the time-a guy can't keep up his own hygiene, or interact with people, but when it comes to eluding capture or injuring others, he's a regular fucking Kaczynski. Never underestimate what obsession can accomplish. This guy's bent his entire life to one aim-harming women."
"More than one aim," David said. "He's also been trying to cure himself."
"This guy's a nutcase, and you're buying what he's selling. If you didn't have your Ivy League credentials, I'd say you weren't the sharpest stick on the heap."
David felt his anger flare, bright and sudden, fueled by exhaustion and stress. "This is not a thriller, or some movie of the week," he snapped. "We're not dealing with Hannibal Lecter, or Norman Bates. This is a man-a sick man, with predictable and definable psychopathology."
"Sick or not sick-it doesn't get him off the hook," Dalton said. "He knows what he's doing. We see fuckers like this all the time. Out of prison every time some dipshit liberal judge gets a tingle in her conscience, then another girl gets raped, another family killed. I don't give a shit if he had a tough childhood."
"Here's an idea," Diane said sharply. "Why don't you both stop beating your chests and do something productive?"
Peter rested a hand on Diane's shoulder, but she shook it off.
"Ms. Trace," Dalton said, with exaggerated patience.
"It's Doctor and don't condescend to me because my face is fucked up."
"I agree with Dr. Trace," Yale said. "This pissing contest is getting us off track. Let's cut the shit and get into it."
"Okay," David said. "Fair enough." He turned to Dalton. "Listen, I am not suggesting that anything in Clyde's childhood does or doesn't get him off the hook. I'm suggesting it's what we need to bring him in. His past doesn't excuse him. It explains him. And if we can figure it out further, it might help predict him."
Dalton finally met David's eyes. Some understanding seemed to pass between them. The politics were now irrelevant. They had to get on the trail and sort all that out later.
"Let's start with the drugs," Yale said, glancing down at his notepad. "Is there any way to determine how much lithium carbonate Clyde is taking?"
"The urine jars in the bathtub are labeled by date and time," David said. "Take the most recent one and send it to a lab. Lithium is cleared by the kidneys, so it'll show up in the urine. That'll help us gauge his level of toxicity."
"Could he die from lithium poisoning?"
"It's difficult to say. When it comes to psychiatric drugs, the dosage variance between patients can be immense. But I would say that if Clyde keeps up at this pace, it'll shut down his kidneys. As it is, he might already need hemodialysis."
Peter leaned heavily on his cane. "Or perhaps he needs to take the rest of the pills at once and have a nice long sleep," he said.
A thoughtful silence.
Dalton jerked his head toward Peter. "I like this guy," he said.
"Did you find the pills?" David asked. "Behind the heating vent?"
Yale nodded.
"Looks like your wish won't come true, Peter," David said. "He left his supply. He's off the meds again. You know what that means?"
"A return of his faculties and motor skills," Diane said. "He'll regain his balance. He'll become more lucid, probably within twenty-four hours."
David looked down, working his cheek between his molars. "And, possibly, more violent," he said.
"We should stake out drugstores in the area in case he tries to break in for more drugs," Yale said. "If he tries to steal more alkali, that might provide an opportunity to catch him."
"There are other trails now, too," David said. "I have the names and birth dates of the study's other subjects. Since the abstract mentioned there was intense bonding between them, it could be a lead. I also have Clyde's file that shows all the addresses he lived at as a child-can you look into those too? We should check out people who worked at Happy Horizons, other kids he overlapped with. Maybe he's in contact with someone. Plus, he mentioned trying to go to a clinic once to get help. In case it's true, maybe we should check that out too."
"Wait a minute." Dalton held up a hand. It was large and weathered, like a baseball mitt. "We need all files and films from that study. We'll follow you home and pick them up." He said it as though expecting David to object.
"Okay," David said. "We can make copies."
Diane seemed to emerge from a separate train of thought. "The fact that Clyde hit you isn't sitting right with me," she said. "It seems so out of character."
"Surprised the hell out of me. So far, he's only attacked women, and even then from something of a distance."
"He attacked two cops in the course of his escape," Yale said.
"He didn't attack them. He injured them trying to escape from them. There was no emotional motive or release there. But me-he wanted to assault me."
"I'll buy that." Yale slid his cheap pen neatly behind his ear. "So then, what enabled him to stray so far and aggressively from his previous pattern of attacks?"
"I think the empty lot and the Pearson Home are comforting to him."
"Why?"
"That house is a place of empowerment to him. It's the place where he was able to inflict fear rather than be victimized by it. Once I spotted him outside Healton's, he may have drawn me into the lot to attack me. Being in the vicinity of the house may have helped him work up the nerve to hit me. I doubt he would've attacked me in public."
"There are more concrete reasons for that," Yale said. "No witnesses. No one to interfere or help you."
"True. But I think my hypothesis is strengthened by the fact that Clyde shows a clear fixation on that house. He took Douglas DaVella's name. He collects items from the house-you saw the photograph and address number by his bed. Plus he still lives within a few blocks of the site. As an adult, he selected that area for a reason. Clearly, it's his comfort zone. He's been clinging to it all these years."
Dalton chewed his cheek, his lips making a sloppy O. "I'd agree. Healton's is two blocks away. And he cashed his checks right over there on Lincoln."
"So by that logic, wouldn't he attack someone in the house?" Yale asked.
"I don't think so," David said. "That doesn't fit into the revenge aspect of his psychopathology. That house never did him wrong, so to speak. The hospital did. To oversimplify, I'd say he draws comfort and empowerment from the house and area around it, and uses that as a springboard to launch his attacks elsewhere."
"And he could be angry that the house was taken away from him," Dalton said. "Maybe he's pissed off that he got removed from his sick-fuck nirvana when he strung up the kid and got shipped off to a youth detention center."
"Again, something he could blame on the experiments and the hospital."
"And so he'll be even more pissed he's been driven from the area again."
"Probably so."
"We'll keep the units in that location on alert," Yale said. "Just in case."
"I doubt he's dumb enough to go back," Peter said.
"It's a base we have to cover. The bulk of our work is proving what we already know. It's tedious, but it helps us sleep at night."
"Our jobs are similar that way," David said. Once the words were out of his mouth, he expected to be rebuked by Yale or Dalton, but was pleasantly surprised.
"You said you believe he's been evolving, becoming more bold and aggressive," Diane said.
"Unusually so," Yale interjected.
"Any way we can figure out that trajectory and intercept it?"
"I think that's our top priority," David said.
"The primary aim of his attacks is to scare people," Yale said. "There's got to be something there, something we can use."
Dalton turned his red, weary eyes to his watch. "Right now, I want to get my hands on those films and files." He turned to the door, prompting David with a tilt of his head.
Peter fiddled with his leg braces. David looked over at Diane, and she tapped two fingers to her forehead in a mock salute.
When David turned back, Yale was standing right beside him. Yale pulled a stick of gum from his pocket and popped it in his mouth, bending it Doublemint-commercial style. He fixed his sharp, indecipherable gaze on David. "We work together now," he said. "On everything."
"All right," David said. "I get it."
Hurwitz, Gregg
Do No Harm (2002)
"You'd better get it," Dalton said. "Because if you fuck up again
… " He pointed at the closed door, behind which Jenkins waited.".. we're gonna sick Bad Cop on you."