Fatal Cure

24

Halloween dawned clear and crisp with frost on the grimacing pumpkins perched on porches and windowsills. Nikki awoke feeling entirely normal physically, and with the festive atmosphere of the holiday, even her spirits were much improved. Angela had made it a point earlier in the week to stock candies and fruits for possible trick-or-treaters.

Angela had no interest in going to church. The idea of trying to fit into the Bartlet community had lost its appeal. David offered to take them to the Iron Horse Inn for breakfast even if they didn't go to church, but Angela preferred to stay at home.

After breakfast Nikki began to agitate to be allowed to go trick-or-treating herself. But Angela was not enthusiastic. She was concerned about letting Nikki out into the cold so soon after she'd gotten over her latest bout of congestion. As a compromise, she sent David into town to try to buy a pumpkin while she got Nikki to help her prepare the house for the children coming to their door.

Angela had Nikki fill a large glass salad bowl to the brim with miniature chocolate bars. Nikki carried it to the front hall and placed it on the table by the door.

Next, Angela had Nikki start making Halloween decorations out of colored construction paper. With Nikki happily occupied, Angela called Robert Scali in Cambridge.

"I'm glad you called," Robert said as soon as he heard Angela's voice. "I've gotten some more financial data like I promised."

"I appreciate your efforts," Angela said. "But I've another request. Can you get me military service records?"

"Now you're pushing it," Robert said. "It's much more difficult to hack into military data banks, as you might imagine. I suppose I could get some general information, but I doubt I could get anything classified unless Peter's colleague is on line with the Pentagon. But I doubt that very much."

"I understand," Angela said. "You've said exactly what I thought you'd say."

"Let's not give up immediately," Robert said. "Let me call Peter and ask. I'll call you back in a few minutes."

Angela hung up and went over to see how Nikki was doing. She'd cut out a big orange moon and now was in the process of cutting out a silhouetted witch on a broomstick. Angela was impressed: neither she nor David had any artistic talent.

David returned with an enormous pumpkin. Nikki was thrilled. Angela helped spread newspaper on the kitchen table. David and Nikki were soon absorbed in carving the pumpkin into a jack o' lantern. Angela helped until the phone rang. It was Robert calling back.

"Bad news," he said. "Gloria can't help with Pentagon stuff. But I was able to get some basic info. I'll send it up with this additional financial material. What's your fax number?"

"We don't have a fax," Angela said. She felt guilty, as if she and David had not joined the nineties.

"But you do have a modem with your computer?" Robert said.

"We don't even have a computer, except one for Nikki's video games," Angela admitted. "But I'll figure out a way to get the material. In the meantime, can you tell me why Van Slyke was in the navy for only twenty-one months?"

There was a pause. Angela could hear Robert shuffling through papers.

"Here it is," he said finally. "Van Slyke got a medical discharge."

"Does it say for what?" Angela asked.

"I'm afraid not," Robert said. "But there is some interesting stuff here. It says that Van Slyke went to submarine school in New London, Connecticut, then on to nuclear power school. He was a submariner."

"Why is that interesting?" Angela asked.

"Not everybody goes out on submarines," Robert said. "It says he was assigned to the U.S.S. Kamehameha out of Guam."

"What kind of job did Clyde Devonshire have in the navy?" Angela asked.

There was more shuffling of paper. "He was a navy corps-man," Robert said. Then he added: "My gosh, isn't this a coincidence."

"What?" Angela asked. It was frustrating not to have the papers herself.

"Devonshire got a medical discharge, too," Robert said. "Having done hard time for rape, I would have guessed it would have been something else."

"That sounds even more interesting to me than Van Slyke's going to submarine school," Angela said.

After thanking Robert again for all his efforts, Angela hung up. Returning to the kitchen where David and Nikki were putting the finishing touches on the jack o' lantern's grotesque face, Angela told David that Robert had more material for them that she wanted to get. She also told him what she'd just learned about Devonshire and Van Slyke.

"So they both had medical discharges," David said. It was obvious he was preoccupied.

"What do you think?" David asked Nikki as they both stepped back to admire their work.

"I think it's great," Nikki said. "Can we put a candle in it?"

"Absolutely," David said.

"David, did you hear me?" Angela asked.

"Of course I did," David said. He handed a candle to Nikki.

"I wish we could find the reasons for these medical discharges," Angela said.

"I bet I know how we could," David said. "Get someone in the VA system to pull it out of their data banks. They'd have to have it recorded."

"Good idea," Angela said. "Do you have any suggestions who we could ask?"

"I have a doctor friend at the VA in Boston," David said.

"Do you think he would mind doing us a favor?" Angela asked.

"It's a she," David said. David told Nikki that she should cut out a little depression inside the pumpkin to hold the candle. She hadn't been able to get the candle to stay upright.

"So who's your doctor friend?" Angela asked.

"She's an ophthalmologist," David said, still overseeing Nikki's efforts to stabilize the candle inside the pumpkin.

"I wasn't referring to her specialty," Angela said. "How do you know her?"

"We went to high school together," David said. "We dated senior year."

"And how long has she been in the Boston area?" Angela asked. "And what's her name?" Two could play at this jealousy game.

"Her name is Nicole Lungstrom," David said. "She came to Boston at the end of last year."

"I've never heard you mention her before," Angela said. "How did you know she came to town?"

"She called me at the hospital," David said. He gave Nikki a congratulatory pat when the candle was finally stabilized. Nikki ran to get matches. David turned his attention to Angela.

"So have you seen her since she's come to Boston?" Angela asked.

"We had lunch once," David said, "and that was it. I told her it was better that we not see each other because she had romantic hopes. We parted friends."

"Honest?" Angela asked.

"Honest," David said.

"You think that if you call out of the blue she'll help us?" Angela asked.

"To tell you the truth, I doubt it," David said. "If we want to take advantage of her employment status with the VA, then I think I should go down there. There's no way I can ask her to violate confidentiality rules over the telephone. Besides, I'd do better to explain the whole sordid story in person."

"When would you go?" Angela asked.

"Today," David said. "I'll call her first to make sure she's available. Then I'll go. I'll even stop at MIT and pick up that material you want from Robert. What do you say?"

Angela bit the inside of her lip as she pondered. She was surprised to feel such a pang of jealousy. Now she knew how David felt. She shook her head and sighed. "Call her," she said.

While Angela cleaned up the mess from the gutting of the pumpkin, David went into the family room and called Nicole Lungstrom. Angela could hear bits and pieces of the conversation even though she tried not to. It bothered her that David sounded so cheerful. A few minutes later he came back into the kitchen.

"It's all arranged," David said. "She's expecting me in a couple of hours. Conveniently, she's on call at the hospital."

"Is she blond?" Angela asked.

"Yeah, she is," David said.

"I was afraid of that," Angela said.

Nikki had the candle lit in the pumpkin, and David carried the jack o' lantern out onto the front porch. He let Nikki decide where she wanted it.

"It looks cool," Nikki said, once it was in place.

Returning inside the house, David asked Angela to call Robert Scali and tell him he would be stopping by. While David went upstairs to get ready to drive to Boston, Angela gave Robert a call.

"That will be interesting," Robert said once Angela explained the reason for her call.

Angela didn't know how to respond. She simply thanked him again for his help and hung up. Then she tried to call Calhoun. Once more she got his answering machine.

David came down wearing his blue blazer and gray slacks. He looked quite handsome.

"Do you have to get so dressed up?" Angela asked.

"I'm going to the VA hospital," David said. "I'm not going in jeans and a sweatshirt."

"I tried to call Calhoun again," Angela said. "Still no answer. That man must have come in late and gone out early. He's really involved in this investigation."

"Did you leave a message?" David asked.

"No," Angela said.

"Why not?"

"I hate answering machines," Angela said. "Besides, he must know we want to hear from him."

"I think you should leave a message," David said.

"What should we do if we don't hear from him by tonight?" Angela asked. "Go to the police?"

"I don't know," David admitted. "The idea of going to Robertson for anything doesn't thrill me."

After Angela watched David pull down their drive, she put her full attention on Nikki. More than anything she wanted her daughter to enjoy the day.

Motivated more by curiosity than anything else, David went to meet Robert Scali first. Hoping the man would look like a nerdy academic, David was crestfallen to discover that Robert was a handsome man with a tanned face and an athletic bearing. To make matters worse, he seemed like a genuinely nice guy.

They shook hands. David could tell Robert was also sizing him up.

"I want to thank you for your help," David said.

"That's what friends are for," Robert said. He handed over another box full of information.

"There's something new on the financial side that I should mention," Robert said. "I discovered that Werner Van Slyke has opened several new bank accounts in the last year, apparently traveling to both Albany and here to Boston to do so. I hadn't gotten that information yesterday because I'd been more interested in credit card history and debt."

"That's strange," David said. "Is it a lot of money?"

"There's less than ten thousand in each account, probably to avoid the rule that banks have to report movements of more than ten thousand."

"That's still a lot of money for a man running a maintenance department at a community hospital," David said.

"This day and age, it probably means the fellow is running a little drug ring," Robert said. "But if he is, he shouldn't be banking the money. He's supposed to bury it in PVC pipe. That's the norm."

"I'd heard from a couple of my teenage patients that marijuana was easily available in the local high school," David said.

"There you go," Robert said. "Maybe on top of whatever else you and Angela solve, you can do your part to help make America drug-free."

David laughed and thanked Robert again for all his help.

"Let me know when you guys next come to town," Robert said. "There's a great restaurant here in Cambridge called Anago Bistro. It will be my treat."

"Will do," David said as he waved goodbye. On his way out to the car, David doubted he'd feel comfortable getting together.

After stowing the computer data in the trunk, David drove across the Charles River and out the Fenway. It took only twenty minutes to get to the VA hospital; Sunday midafternoon was a traffic low.

Walking into the hospital, David thought it was ironic how lives could intersect after years of separation. He'd dated Nicole Lungstrom for almost a year, starting in the last part of junior year of high school. But after graduation she'd gone off to the West Coast for college, medical school, and residency. At one point David had heard through friends that she'd married. When she'd called the previous year, David had learned she'd been divorced.

David had Nicole paged and waited for her in the lobby. When she first appeared and they greeted each other, they were both uneasy. David quickly learned that there was a new man in Nicole's life. David was pleased, and he began to relax.

For privacy, Nicole took David into the doctors' lounge. Once they were seated he told her the whole story of his and Angela's disastrous sojourn in Bartlet. He then told her what he wanted.

"What do you think?" David asked. "Would you mind seeing what information is available?"

"Will this be just between us?" Nicole asked.

"My word of honor," David said. "Except for Angela, of course."

"I assumed that," Nicole said. She pondered the situation for a few minutes, then nodded. "Okay," she said. "If someone is killing patients then I think the ends justify the means, at least in this instance."

David handed Nicole the short list of people: Devonshire, Van Slyke, Forbs, Ullhof, and Maurice.

"I thought you were only interested in two," Nicole said.

"We know all five of these people were in the military," David said. "And all five have tattoos. We might as well be thorough."

Using the social security numbers and birth dates Nicole obtained the military ID numbers on each person. She then began calling up the records. There was an immediate surprise. Both Forbes and Ullhof had also been given medical discharges. Only Maurice had mustered out normally.

Both Forbs' and Ullhof's discharge diagnoses were pedestrian: Forbs was released because of chronic back problems while Ullhof had been discharged because of nonspecific, chronic prostatitis.

Van Slyke's and Devonshire's were not so innocuous. Van Slyke's was the most complicated. Nicole had to scroll through page after page of material. Van Slyke had been discharged with a psychiatric diagnosis of "schizo-affective disorder with mania and strong paranoid ideation under stress."

"Good Lord," David said. "I'm not sure I understand all that. Do you?"

"I'm an ophthalmologist," Nicole said. "But I gather the translation is that the guy is schizophrenic with a large component of mania."

David looked at Nicole and raised his eyebrows. "Sounds like you know more about this stuff than I do," he said. "I'm impressed."

"I was interested in psychiatry at one point," Nicole said. "This Van Slyke fellow sounds like the kind of person I'd stay away from. But for all his mental trouble, look at all the schooling he went through, even nuclear power school. I hear that's quite rigorous."

Nicole continued to scroll through the material.

"Wait," David said, leaning on her shoulder. He pointed to a passage that described an incident where Van Slyke had had a psychiatric break while on patrol on a nuclear submarine. At the time, he'd been working as a nuclear-trained machinist's mate for the engineering department.

David read aloud: " 'During the first half of the patrol the patient's mania was apparent and progressive. He exhibited elevated mood which led to poor judgment and feelings of hostility, belligerence, and ultimately to persistent paranoid thoughts of being ridiculed by the rest of the crew and being affected by computers and radiation. His paranoia reached a climax when he attacked the captain and had to be restrained.' "

"Good grief," Nicole said. "I hope I don't see him in the clinic."

"He's not quite as wacko as this makes him sound," David said. "I've even spoken to him on several occasions. He's not sociable or even friendly, but he does his job."

"I'd say he was a time bomb," Nicole said.

"Being paranoid about radiation while on a nuclear submarine isn't so crazy," David said. "If I ever had to be on a nuclear submarine, it would drive me up the wall knowing I was so close to a nuclear reactor."

"There's more history here," Nicole said. She read aloud: " 'Van Slyke has a history of being a loner type. He was raised by an aggressive, alcoholic father and a fearful and compliant mother. The mother's maiden name was Traynor.' "

"I'd heard that part of the story," David said. "Harold Traynor, the fellow's uncle, is the chairman of the board of trustees."

"Here's something else interesting," Nicole said. She again read aloud: "The patient has demonstrated the tendency to idealize certain authority figures but then turn against them with minor provocation, whether real or fancied. This behavior pattern has occurred prior to entering the service and while in the navy." Nicole looked up at David. "I certainly wouldn't want to be his boss."

Moving on to Devonshire, they found less material, but it was just as interesting and even more significant as far as David was concerned. Clyde Devonshire had been treated for sexually transmitted diseases on several occasions in San Diego. He'd also had a bout of hepatitis B. Finally he'd tested positive for HIV.

"This might be really important," David said, tapping the computer screen and making reference to the AIDS virus. "The fact that Clyde Devonshire has a potentially terminal illness himself could be the key."

"I hope I've helped," Nicole said.

"Could I get copies of these records?" David asked.

"That might take some time," Nicole said. "Medical records is closed on Sundays. I'll have to get a key to get access to a printer."

"I'll wait," David said. "But I'd like to use the phone first."

After much grumbling and a few tears, Nikki finally accepted the fact that it was not in her best interest to traipse around the neighborhood trick-or-treating. The day that had started out so clear had turned gray. A distinct threat of rain was in the offing. But Nikki still dressed up in her fearful costume and derived enormous fun from going to the door and scaring the handful of children who showed up.

Angela still hated Nikki's costume, but she held her tongue. She was not about to detract from Nikki's enjoyment.

While Nikki hovered by the door waiting for more trick-or-treaters, Angela tried Calhoun one more time. Again, she got his answering machine. When she called earlier that afternoon, she'd left a message as David suggested, but Calhoun had never called back. Angela began to worry. Looking out the window at the gathering gloom, she also began to worry about David. Although he'd called many hours ago to say he'd be a bit later than expected, she thought he should have been home by now.

Half an hour later, Nikki was willing to call it quits. It was growing dark and getting late for trick-or-treaters. No one had been by for some time.

Angela was thinking about starting dinner when the doorbell chimed. Nikki had already gone upstairs to take a bath, so Angela headed for the front door. As she passed the table in the front hall, she picked up the glass bowl with the chocolates. Through the side light window she caught a glimpse of a reptile-headed man.

Angela unlocked the door, opened it, and began to say something about how great a costume it was when she noticed that the man was not accompanied by a child.

Before Angela could react, the man lunged inside, grabbed Angela around the neck with his left arm, and enveloped her in a headlock. His gloved right hand slapped over her mouth, suppressing a scream. Angela dropped the bowl of chocolates to the marble foyer floor where it shattered into hundreds of pieces.

Angela vainly struggled with the man, desperately trying to pull free. But he was strong and held her tightly in a vise-like grip. The only noises she could make were muffled grunts.

"Shut up or I'll kill you," the man said in a raspy half whisper. He gave Angela's head a fearful shake; a sudden stab of pain shot down Angela's back. She stopped struggling.

The man glanced around the room. He strained to see down the hallway toward the kitchen.

"Where's your husband?" he demanded.

Angela couldn't respond. She was beginning to feel dizzy, as if she might black out.

"I'm going to let you go," the man snarled. "If you scream I'll shoot you. Understand?" He gave Angela's head another shake, bringing tears of pain.

As promised, the man let Angela go. She staggered back a step but caught herself. Her heart was racing. She knew that Nikki was upstairs in the bathtub. Rusty, unfortunately, was out in the barn. He'd been a nuisance with the trick-or-treaters.

Angela looked at her attacker. His reptile mask was grotesque. The scales appeared almost real. A red forked tongue hung limply from a mouth lined with jagged teeth. Angela tried to think. What should she do? What could she do? She noticed the man had a pistol in his hand.

"My husband is not at home," Angela managed to say at last. Her voice was hoarse. The headlock had compressed her throat.

"What about your sick kid?" the man demanded.

"She's out trick-or-treating with friends," Angela said.

"When will your husband be back?" the man asked.

Angela hesitated, not knowing what was best to say. The man grabbed her arm and gave it a tug. His thumbnail bit into her flesh. "I asked you a question," he snarled.

"Soon," Angela managed.

"Good," the man said. "We'll wait. Meanwhile, let's take a look around the house and make sure you're not lying to me."

"I wouldn't lie," Angela said as she felt herself propelled into the family room.

Nikki was not in the bathtub. She'd been out for some time. When the door chimes sounded, she'd rushed to finish dressing and put on her mask. She'd hoped to get downstairs before the kids had left. She wanted to see their costumes and surprise them with her own. She'd just gotten to the head of the stairs when the glass bowl shattered, stopping her in her tracks. Helplessly she'd watched from upstairs as her mother began to struggle with a man wearing a serpent mask.

After the initial shock, Nikki ran down the hall to the master bedroom and picked up the telephone. But there was no dial tone. The line was dead. Rushing back down the hall, she'd peeked over the edge of the stairs just in time to see her mother and the man disappear into the family room.

Advancing to the head of the stairs, Nikki looked down. The shotgun was leaning against the back of the newel post.

Nikki had to jump back out of sight when her mother and the reptile man reappeared from the family room. Nikki could hear their footsteps crunching the broken glass of the candy bowl. Then the footsteps stopped. Nikki could only hear muffled voices.

Nikki forced herself to peek over the edge of the stairs again. She saw her mother and the man reappear briefly from the living room before they vanished down the central corridor toward the kitchen.

Nikki inched forward and again peered down at the shotgun. It was still there. She started down the steps, but no matter how slowly she moved, each step creaked under the weight of her light, seventy-pound frame.

Nikki only got halfway down the stairs before she heard Angela and the man coming back along the corridor. Panicked, Nikki raced back up the stairs and partway down the upstairs corridor. She stopped, intending to return to the top of the stairs and then to descend to the foyer when it was safe. But to her horror her mother and the man started up the stairs.

Nikki ran the rest of the way down the corridor and dashed into the master bedroom. She ducked into one of the walk-in closets. In the back of the closet was a second door leading to a short hall connecting with the barn. Several store rooms ran off it. At the end of the hall was a narrow, spiral staircase that led down to the mud room.

Nikki raced down these stairs, then through the kitchen and along the first-floor corridor, finally reaching the foyer. She snatched up the shotgun. She checked to see if there was a shell in the magazine just as her mother had taught her. There was. She released the safety.

Nikki's elation quickly changed to confusion. Now that she had the shotgun in her hands, she didn't know what to do next. Her mother had explained that the gun sprayed pellets in a wide arc. It didn't have to be aimed too carefully; it would hit just about everything it was pointed at. The problem was her mom. Nikki didn't want to hit her.

Nikki had little time to ponder her dilemma. Almost immediately she heard the intruder marching her mother back along the upstairs corridor and down the main stairs. Nikki backed up toward the kitchen. She didn't know whether to hide or run outside to the neighbors'.

Before Nikki could decide, her mother appeared in the foyer, stumbling down the last few stairs. Apparently she'd been pushed. Right behind her was the reptile man. In full view of Nikki the man gave Angela another cruel shove that sent her flying through the archway into the living room. In his right hand was a pistol.

The man started after her mother. He was about twenty feet away from Nikki, who was holding the shotgun at her waist. She had her left hand around the barrel and her right hand around the stock. Her finger was on the trigger.

The intruder turned briefly to face Nikki as he walked, then did a double take. He started to raise his gun in her direction. Nikki closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.

The sound of the blast from the shotgun was horrendous in the narrow hallway. The recoil knocked Nikki over backward, yet she stubbornly held onto the shotgun. Regaining her balance enough to sit up, she used all her strength to cock the gun. Her ears were ringing so much, she couldn't hear the mechanical click the shotgun made as a fresh shell was rammed into position and the spent cartridge ejected.

Angela suddenly appeared out of the smoky haze, coming from the direction of the kitchen. Immediately following the blast she'd run from the living room into the kitchen, doubling around and back up the main corridor. She took the shotgun from Nikki who was only too glad to give it up.

From the family room they heard the sound of a door banging open, then stillness.

"Are you all right?" Angela whispered to Nikki.

"I think so," Nikki said.

Angela helped Nikki to her feet, then motioned for her to follow her. Slowly they advanced toward the foyer. They inched past the archway leading into the living room, catching sight of the damage caused by Nikki's shotgun blast. A portion of the pellets were embedded in the side of the arch. The rest of the charge had carried away another four panes of glass from the living room's bay window, the same window damaged by the brick.

Next they rounded the base of the stairs, trying to avoid the shards of broken glass. As they approached the archway leading into the family room, they felt a draft of cold air. Angela kept the shotgun trained ahead. Edging along together, Angela and Nikki spotted the source of the draft: one of the French doors leading to the terrace hung open and was gently swinging back and forth with the evening breeze.

With Nikki clutching one of Angela's belt loops, they advanced toward the open door. They gazed out at the dark line of trees bordering their property. For a few moments they stood absolutely still, listening for any sounds. All they heard was the distant bark of a dog, followed by Rusty's rebuttal from out in the barn. No one was in sight.

Angela closed the door and locked it. Still gripping the gun in one hand, she bent down and hugged Nikki with all her might.

"You're a hero," she said. "Wait until I tell your father."

"I didn't know what to do," Nikki said. "I didn't mean to hit the window."

"The window doesn't matter," Angela said. "You did splendidly." Angela went over to the phone. She was surprised to find it was dead.

"The one in your bedroom's not working either," Nikki said.

Angela shuddered. The intruder had gone to the trouble of cutting their lines first. Had it not been for Nikki, Angela hated to think what might have happened.

"We have to make sure the man is not still here," Angela said. "Come on, let's search the house."

Together they went through the dining room into the kitchen. They checked the mud room and the two small storage rooms. Returning to the kitchen they walked down the central corridor back to the foyer.

While Angela was debating whether to check upstairs, the door chimes rang. Both she and Nikki jumped.

Looking out the side lights on either side of the door, Angela and Nikki saw a group of children dressed as witches and ghosts standing on their stoop.

David pulled into the driveway. He was surprised to see that every light in the house was on. Then he saw a group of teenagers leap from the porch, dash across the lawn, and disappear into the trees lining the property.

David stopped the car. He could see that his front door was plastered with raw eggs. The windows had been soaped, and the jack o' lantern smashed. He had half a mind to give chase to the kids but decided that the chances of finding them in the dark were pretty slim. "Damn kids," he said aloud. Then he noticed that more of the living-room bay window had been broken.

"Good gravy!" David exclaimed. "That's going way too far." He got out of the car and went up to his front door. The place was a mess. Tomatoes as well as eggs had been thrown against the front of the house.

Not until he discovered the broken glass and candy scattered across the floor of the foyer did David become truly worried. Struck by a sudden stab of fear for his family, David cried out for Angela and Nikki.

Almost immediately Angela and Nikki appeared at the top of the stairs. Angela was holding the shotgun. Nikki started to cry and ran down the stairs into David's arms.

"He had a gun," Nikki managed to tell David through choking sobs.

"Who had a gun?" David asked with growing alarm. "What's happened?"

Angela came part of the way down the stairs and sat down.

"We had a visitor," Angela said.

"Who?" David demanded.

"I don't know," Angela said. "He was wearing a Halloween mask. He had a handgun."

"My God!" David said. "I never should have left you alone here. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Angela said. "But you are later than you said you'd be when you called."

"It took longer than expected to get copies of the medical records," David explained. "I did try to call on my way up, but the phone was constantly busy. When I checked with the operator, I was told it was out of order."

"I think it was deliberately cut," Angela said. "Probably by the intruder."

"Did you call the police?" David asked.

"How were we to call the police when we had no phone?" Angela snapped.

"I'm sorry," David said. "I'm not thinking."

"All we've done since the man bolted is huddle upstairs," Angela said. "We've been terrified he'd come back."

"Where's Rusty?" David asked.

"I put him in the barn earlier in the day because he got so hyper with all the trick-or-treaters coming to the door."

"I'll get my portable phone from the car and I'll get Rusty while I'm at it," David said. He gave Nikki's shoulder a final squeeze.

Outside, he saw the same group of teenagers scatter.

"You'd better stay the hell away from here," David yelled into the night.

Angela and Nikki were waiting for him in the kitchen when he returned with the phone and Rusty.

"There's a wolf pack of teenagers out there," David said. "They've made a mess of the front porch."

"I think it's because we haven't been answering the door," Angela said. "All the trick-or-treaters have been turned away empty-handed. I'm afraid with no treats we've gotten our share of tricks. Believe me, compared to what we were facing, they're nothing."

"Not quite nothing: they've broken a few more window panes in the bay window," David said.

"Nikki broke the window," Angela said. She reached out and hugged her daughter. "She's our hero." Then Angela told him exactly what had happened.

David could hardly believe the peril his family had been in. When he thought of what might have happened… He couldn't bear to entertain the awful possibilities. When another barrage of raw eggs splattered against the front door, David's anger welled. Running to the foyer, he threw open the door fully intending to catch a couple of kids. Angela restrained him. Nikki held on to Rusty.

"They're not important," Angela said. Tears welled in her eyes.

Seeing his wife start to break down, David closed the door. He had no confusion in regard to his priorities. He consoled Angela as best he could. He knew that running after the kids would accomplish nothing; he'd just be blowing off steam in an attempt to assuage his guilt.

He drew Nikki to him as well and sat them both down on the family room couch. As soon as Angela had calmed down, David used his portable phone to call the police. While they waited for them to arrive, David cursed himself for having left Angela and Nikki.

"It's just as much my fault," Angela said. "I should have anticipated we'd be in danger." Angela then conceded that the rape attempt had possibly been an attempt on her life. She said that she'd told Calhoun about it, and he tended to agree with her.

"Why didn't you tell me this?" David demanded.

"I should have," Angela admitted. "I'm sorry."

"If nothing else, we're learning that we shouldn't hold secrets from each other," David said. "What about Calhoun? Have you heard from him yet?"

"No," Angela said. "I even left a message as you suggested. What are we going to do?"

"I don't know," David said. He stood up. "In the meantime let's take a look at that bay window."

The police were in no hurry. It took them almost three-quarters of an hour to arrive. To David's and Angela's chagrin, Robertson himself came in full uniform. Angela was tempted to ask if it was his Halloween costume. He was accompanied by a deputy, Carl Hobson.

As Robertson came through the front door he glanced at the refuse on the porch and noticed the broken window. He was carrying a clipboard.

"You people having a minor problem?" he asked.

"Not minor," Angela said. "Major." She then described what had happened from the moment the man appeared to David's arrival.

Robertson obviously had little patience for Angela's story. He fidgeted impatiently as she explained all that had happened, rolling his eyes for his deputy's benefit.

"Now, you sure this was a real gun?" Robertson asked.

"Of course it was a real gun," Angela said with exasperation.

"Maybe it was just a toy gun, part of a costume. You sure this guy wasn't just trick-or-treating?" He winked at Hobson.

"Just one goddamn minute," David said, breaking into the conversation. "I don't like what I'm hearing here. I'm getting the distinct impression that you're not taking this seriously. This man had a gun. There was violence here. Hell, even part of the bay window has been blown out."

"Don't you yell at me," Robertson said. "Your good wife has already admitted that your darling daughter blew out the window, not the purported intruder. And let me tell you something else: there's an ordinance against discharging a shotgun within the town limits unless it's done at the range by the dump."

"Get the hell out of my house," David raged.

"I'll be happy to," Robertson said. He motioned for Hobson to precede him. At the door, Robertson paused. "Let me offer you people some advice. You're not a popular family in this town, and it could get a whole lot worse if you shoot at some innocent child coming by for candy. God help you if you actually hit some kid."

David rushed to the door and slammed it behind Robertson as soon as the oaf was out the door.

"Bastard!" David fumed. "Well, we no longer have any illusions about the local police. We can't expect any help from them."

Angela hugged herself and fought off a new batch of tears. "What a mess," she said, shaking her head. David stepped over and comforted her. He also had to calm Nikki who was shocked by the sharp exchange between her father and the chief of police.

"Do you think we should stay here tonight?"

"Where can we go at this hour?" David said. "I think we should stay. We can make sure we have no more visitors."

"I suppose you're right," Angela said with a sigh. "I know I'm not thinking straight. I've never been this upset."

"Are you hungry?" David asked.

Angela shrugged. "Not really," she said. "But I'd started getting dinner ready before all this happened."

"Well, I'm starved," David said. "I didn't eat lunch."

"Okay," Angela said. "Nikki and I will put something together."

David called the phone company and reported that their phone was out of order. When he mentioned he was a doctor they agreed to send a repairman as soon as possible. Next, David went out to the barn and found some additional outdoor lighting. When he was finished, the entire outside of the house was brilliantly illuminated.

The phone repairman arrived while they were eating. He quickly determined the problem was outside; the phone line had been cut where it entered the house. While the repairman worked, the Wilsons continued their dinner.

"I hate Halloween," the repairman said when he came to the door to announce that the phone was fixed. David thanked him for coming out on a Sunday night.

After dinner David tended to additional security measures. First he boarded up a portion of the bay window in the living room. Then he went around and made sure all the doors and windows were locked.

Although the visit by the police had been exasperating, it did have one beneficial effect. After the police had been there the pesky teenagers gave up their harassment campaign. Apparently seeing the cruiser had been enough to scare them off. By nine o'clock the Wilsons had gathered in Nikki's room for her respiratory therapy.

After Nikki went to sleep, David and Angela retired to the family room to go over the material David had brought back from Boston. As an additional security aid David encouraged Rusty to leave Nikki's room where he customarily slept and stay with them in the family room. David wanted to take advantage of the dog's sensitive hearing. David also kept the shotgun close at hand.

"You know what I think," Angela said as David opened the envelope that contained the medical records. "I think the man who came in here tonight is the same person who's behind the euthanasia and Hodges' murder. I'm convinced of it. It's the only thing that makes sense."

"I agree with you," David said. "And I think our best candidate is Clyde Devonshire. Read this."

David handed Devonshire's medical record to Angela. She quickly scanned it. "Oh my," she said as she came near to the end. "He's HIV positive."

David nodded. "It means he's got a potentially terminal illness himself. I think we have a serious suspect here, especially when you combine his HIV status with the other facts like his having been arrested outside of Jack Kevorkian's house. He obviously has a strong interest in assisted suicides. Who knows? That interest could extend to euthanasia. He's a trained nurse so he has the medical expertise and he worked in the hospital so he has access, and if that isn't enough, he has a history of rape. He might be the ski-masked rapist."

Angela nodded, but she was troubled. "The only problem with all this is that it's completely circumstantial," she said. Then she asked: "Would you know Clyde Devonshire by sight?"

"No," David admitted.

"I wonder if I'd be able to identify him by his height or the sound of his voice," Angela said. "I kind of doubt it. I'd never be absolutely sure."

"Well, let's move on," David said. "The next best candidate is Werner Van Slyke. Take a look at his history." David handed Van Slyke's record to Angela. It was considerably thicker than Devonshire's.

"Good grief," Angela said as she came to the end. "What you don't know about people."

"What do you think of him as a suspect?" David asked.

"It's an interesting psychiatric history," Angela agreed. "But I don't think he's the one. Schizo-affective disorder with mania and paranoia is not the same thing as an antisocial psychotic."

"But you don't have to be antisocial to have misguided ideas about euthanasia," David said.

"That's true," Angela said. "But just because someone is mentally ill doesn't mean they're criminal. If Van Slyke had an extensive criminal history or a history of violent behavior, that would be different. But since he doesn't, I don't think he rates too high as a suspect. Besides, he may know about nuclear submarines, but he doesn't have a sophisticated knowledge of medicine. How could he be killing a bunch of patients employing a method even you can't detect if he didn't have specialized health-related training?"

"I agree," David said. "But look at this material I got from Robert today."

David handed Angela the sheet of paper listing Van Slyke's various bank accounts in Albany and Boston.

"Where on earth is he getting this money?" Angela asked. "Do you think it has anything to do with our concerns?"

David shrugged. "That's a good question," he said. "Robert didn't think so. He suggested that Van Slyke was dealing drugs. We do know there's marijuana in town, so it's possible."

Angela nodded.

"If it's not drugs it would be ominous," David said.

"Why?" Angela asked.

"Let's suppose Van Slyke is the one killing these people," David said. "If he's not selling drugs, he could be getting paid for each death."

"What an awful idea," Angela said. "But if that were the case we'd be back to square one. We still wouldn't know who was behind it. Who would be paying him and why?"

"I'd still guess it's some misguided mercy killer," David said. "All the victims had potentially fatal illnesses."

"I think we're getting too speculative," Angela said. "We've got too much information and we're straining to put it all into the same theory. Most of this information probably isn't related."

"You're probably right," David said. "But I just had an idea. If we were to determine Van Slyke was the culprit, then his psychiatric problems could work in our favor."

"What do you mean?" Angela asked.

"Van Slyke had a psychotic break under the stress of a submarine patrol. I don't find that all that surprising. I might have had one, too. Anyway, when he had his psychotic break, he had paranoid symptoms and turned against his authority figures. His history indicates he'd done that before. If we confronted him I'm sure he'd get stressed out. Then we could evoke his paranoia toward whoever is paying him. All we'd have to say is that this, quote, 'authority figure' is planning on letting Van Slyke take the blame if anything goes wrong. And since we're talking with him, obviously things are going wrong."

Angela flashed David an expression of disbelief. "You amaze me sometimes," she said. "Especially since you think you are so rational. That's the most convoluted and ridiculous idea I've ever heard. Van Slyke's history documented mania with belligerence. And you're suggesting that you could safely evoke this individual's schizophrenic paranoia? That's absurd. He'd explode in violence, and it would be directed at everyone, particularly you."

"It was just an idea," David said defensively.

"Well, I'm not going to get myself worked up," Angela said. "This is all too speculative and theoretical."

"Okay," David said soothingly. "The next candidate is Peter Ullhof. Obviously he has medical training. The fact that he's been arrested in connection with the abortion issue suggests that he has some strong feelings about moral issues in medicine. But after that, there's not much."

"What about Joe Forbs?" Angela asked.

"The only thing that makes him suspicious is his inability to handle his personal finances," David said.

"And what about the last person? Claudette Maurice."

"She's clean," David said. "The only thing I'm curious about is where she has the tattoo."

"I'm exhausted," Angela said. She tossed the papers she had in her hands onto the coffee table. "Maybe after a good night's sleep, something will come to us."