Fatal Instinct

Six

The night had passed without incident related to the Claw, the poised city like a bride relieved to have been stood up. Getting in early to his new office, Rychman felt, would give him time to get organized, to prepare for the day, gird up for the inevitable surprises. He'd gotten Dr. Archer's less than helpful forensics report on the Hamner woman, had sat up with it, searching for something-anything-that might lead to a breakthrough or at least a direction they might take. But there was nothing new, beyond the beheading. Why'd the creep add that?

He'd avoided reporters by driving straight into the underground garage, where he now had a parking slot. He had purposefully avoided reading the morning news, knowing it would be filled with a lot of trash about the case and the department, none of which helped. Why didn't they print the facts? Literally thousands of suspects had been hauled into custody, questioned and released; more man-hours had gone to the case prior to the formation of a task force than any in the history of the department. The cops were doing their job. Maybe the formation of the special task force to which he was assigned would get the press off their backs, at least for a time, but he doubted it.

He'd successfully led task forces before and was responsible for the white-collar crimes of Charles Dean Ilandfeldt coming to light. He had routed the Lords of Satan biker gang before that, infiltrating as a fence for automatic weapons. They had so come to trust him that they'd allowed him to film a bit of “biker justice” from inside the walls of the L.S. hideout. He'd never witnessed such cruelty before, but the work of the Claw made the L.S. guys look like a Girl Scout troop.

As for his new duties, Rychman didn't mind an interesting change, but Police Plaza One-and his new, upscale office- were going to take some getting used to.

He tried to get comfortable in his new, temporary office, switching on the soft-rock channel, playing now a Gordon Lightfoot medley which ended with his favorite, “If You Could Read My Mind.” It made him wish that he could read the Claw's mind, and the mind of Dr. Jessica Coran, for that matter. Did she really think she could see into the killer's mind? Perhaps she'd just gotten lucky in the Mad Matisak case in Chicago; coincidence and luck often played a large part in detection and police work, after all. “Son of Sam” Berkowitz was caught because some beat cop wrote him a ticket for illegally parking, a stroke of dumb luck. Then again, Rychman believed that when coincidence struck, most people failed to recognize it for what it was, because most were not tuned in, were not observant, especially of the commonplace and everyday. Perhaps this female M.E. Coran was tuned in. She certainly seemed observant.

He thought for a moment about how pretty she was, the radio now blaring out the traffic report, promising the news soon. He'd begun to take a cursory look at his correspondence and several files that cluttered his desk when Lou Pierce came in, an odd look on his face. Rychman and Lou had been together now for nearly seven years, and he knew when Lou had to shake off to the can and when he had a toothache, and when he had bad news.

“ Something in the Times you ought to see, Captain.”

“ Not so sure I want to see anything in the Times, Lou. Not yet, anyway.”

“ This won't wait, Captain. C.P.'s on his way, and the mayor's been up all night.”

“ That bad, huh?”

Lou slumped down in the chair across from him and dropped the paper in front of his captain all in one languid movement. He seemed to be melting into his chair, shutting his eyes, feigning sleep. “Been reading up on self-hypnosis techniques, Captain,” Lou said. “Everywhere you look, everybody's saying how important relaxing is-to the health, the body, the soul, I mean…”

Lou kept his eyes closed tight as he spoke and as Rychman scanned the story on page one. The byline was that of a now familiar reporter, Jim Drake III.

The headline was scorching: “6th Claw Mutilation Murder-Police Without a Suspect, Leads or Clues.”

“ Just heard it on a talk show the other day, 'Donahue.' Had a lot of doctors on and they all stressed the same thing, about learning how to relax,” Lou prattled on. “Say if you can't relax, you'll wind up with bleeding ulcers, a heart condition or in a mental ward, or all three.”

Rychman wasn't relaxing as he read down the column, his anger rising with each printed word. He was now at the center of the story where he was, named as a questionable selection to head the special task force put together by the city to end the terror.

And the bastard actually brought up a bar fight that was sixteen years old, along with Rychman's controversial and nasty divorce.

“ Christ,” he muttered, “Jesus Christ.” He imagined Dr. Jessica Coran in her hotel room reading the story over her coffee.

“ Consider the source,” said Lou cautiously.

Rychman stood up, knocking over his coffee, cursing and slapping the paper down so hard that papers flew in all directions. “Lou, I'd like to consider the source. I'd like to hang the goddamned source. I want a fucking gag order on this whole damn building, you got that, Lou?” And as he spoke, the door burst open and in walked the mayor, his Commissioner, Eldritch, and Dr. Jessica Coran.

So she's an early riser, too, he thought as he stared across the disheveled desk at them, Lou trying desperately to pick up the loose papers and dry up the still-dripping coffee.

Rychman made no attempt to hide his anger. Everyone must know that the press seemed to be stalking Alan Rychman. But he calmed long enough to say, “I guess you've seen the papers.”

“ Making us look like idiots, this bastard,” said Commissioner Eldritch.

His Honor the mayor, Dan Halle, came right to the point, his style, which Rychman liked. Halle was concerned about the image of his office and the police department, but he seemed also genuinely concerned about the realities of the situation. Alan Rychman had learned on earlier occasions that His Honor had studied the facts and details of the Claw slayings. He knew what they were up against. “Alan, I'm very concerned that we make some kind of break in this bloody case. We've got to show some progress. That's why we called in the FBI, and that's why they sent Dr. Coran, here.”

The commissioner was not so straightforward, and while Coran was nodding, saying they'd met, Carl Eldritch said, “That's why you were selected to head the task force, Alan.”

Rychman knew a lie when he heard one. The C.P. wanted to remain the C.P., and Alan presented a real threat to him, and they both knew it. Eldritch knew that it was a make-or-break case, and he also knew that the department was coming up empty at every turn. He was gambling that Rychman and company would be as inept as the press painted them. He continued, his tongue greased, Rychman believed, so that he wouldn't choke on his own lies. “I'm sorry I couldn't have been in two places at once yesterday when Dr. Coran arrived. The mayor had hoped to be here, too, but circumstances-”

“ Circumstances being as they are, I fully understand,” Rychman said with an edge to his voice. “Not to worry, everything's in hand. The ball's rolling, right, Lou?”

Pierce had remained silent and had slipped toward the door. He was about to disappear when Rychman asked the question.

He inched back through the door, saying, “Absolutely… everything is under way. And might I add, sir, that everyone associated with the task force is enthusiastic and hopeful.”

“ Good, good,” said the mayor, “we need all the enthusiasm we can muster for this heinous work.”

Lou finished his disappearing act.

Rychman exchanged a look with Jessica Coran. Lou had turned off the radio, tidied the mess Rychman had made, and had done so like a doting servant or faithful wife.

“ It must be good to have such a loyal aide,” she said.

“ I insist on loyalty.”

“ So,” interrupted the C. P, “what're your plans at this point. Captain Rychman?”

“ Plans?”

“ For the apprehension of this… this Claw character.”

“ We are proceeding as quickly as we can, but the task force was just begun yesterday; if you remember, sir, I suggested such a special team two weeks ago, but-”

“ Two weeks ago there were only a few deaths, one victim a prostitute,” countered the C.P. “Allocating a fortune in city funds to this madman-at that time-”

“- would have reflected badly in the papers, I know,” Rychman finished. “Now we've arrived at the same destination. So tell me honestly what sends you gentlemen here, besides this?” He punched his large forefinger at the copy of the Times.

“ It's not just the press, Captain Rychman,” said the mayor. “It's everyone, the clergy, the PTA, the Rotarians, for Christ's sake, the whole city, the community.”

Alan put up his hands. “You think I don't know that everyone is on us?”

“ We need to make an arrest.” The C.P. finally got around to what the visit was actually about.

“ Arrest, huh?” he said, muttering under his breath, “Jesus.” Rychman began to pace like a large, caged bear, then stopped before Jessica and coolly stared her in the eye, asking, “That'd look good? Calm the community brain? Do you agree with this… thinking, Dr. Coran? That we ought to make a wholesale arrest?”

“ No one said wholesale arrest, Alan,” interrupted Eldritch.

But neither Jessica nor Alan Rychman heard him, so intent remained their attention to each other. She said calmly, “No… no, I don't believe an arrest for the sake of an arrest will, in the long run, serve any purpose.”

Rychman's face brightened, but he quickly squelched his smile when he saw the confusion in Eldritch's eyes. Eldritch had apparently believed Dr. Coran was sold on the idea.

She stood up and paced, her cane tapping out a soft requiem. “Gentlemen, detaining and questioning your thousands of MSDOs has already cost more time, energy and paperwork than you can afford, creating several thousand paper trails that will likely lead nowhere.”

“ We can't stand idly by a moment longer!” shouted Eldritch.

She met his eyes. “This killer is not your usual sex offender; he's not a rapist; he's in no way a typical killer.”

Mayor Halle asked her what she was driving at.

“ This maniac is the rarest of murderers. A man who has acquired a taste for female flesh and female suffering. He kills women because he hates women; he is a predator, and people of my sex are his prey.”

“ Is that how you see it, Captain?” Halle asked.

Rychman nodded vigorously. “That's about how 1 see it, yes.”

Dr. Coran continued. “His taste for flesh is an integral part of his gaming.”

“ Gaming?”

“ Fantasizing, fantasy fulfillment, sport, if you like.”

Mayor Halle swallowed. “Well… yes…”

“ He hunts for flesh, for the excitement of it all, to quench a perceived need,” she said, pacing nervously before the three men. “A flesh-eater, like a blood-drinker, is an aberration far beyond your normal sex deviant. He's gone so far beyond what we know as our normal lunatic that… well, this man has returned to a state of cannibalism; in his head and in his genes he is a cannibal doing only what comes naturally, like the flesh-eating ape from which mankind evolved.”

“ A bloody animal,” said Eldritch, trying to imagine the man.

“ But don't be fooled. He's no simple animal,” she countered.

“ Go on,” said the mayor.

“ He displays a very complex personality… perhaps too complex.”

“ Can you be more specific?”

“ I don't believe he will be a simpleton, a crazed drug addict, a street person or one of the names in your MSDO files.”

“ We've already looked at all our deviants and've cut them loose,” added Rychman.

“ Whoever this guy is, he shows careful ritualistic patterns; he's working out a deep-seated fantasy which, as horrible as it is, requires a high level of cognitive thought and planning.”

“ Well, yes, the crimes have shown significant repetition,” said Eldritch. “Pattern crimes…”

Halle took in a great breath of air. “What you're saying is that this guy could elude us for a long time, if we ever catch him at all.”

“ I'm afraid so. And if you're going to force your people to make arrests at this point, it could backfire.”

“ We're not talking about arrests,” said Eldritch. “We're talking about one goddamned arrest.”

Rychman said sharply, “I stand with Dr. Coran. Any arrest at this point is bound to come back to haunt us as the lie it is.”

“ If it takes a lie-” began the C. P, but the mayor put up a hand, silencing him.

“ May I suggest, Captain Rychman, that you do as Carl says and make one arrest. Get a man you've wanted off the street, anyway… a good stand-in for this, this Claw. Bring him up on charges, hold him as long as possible, while you continue to investigate. Who knows, could turn out to be the Claw.”

Rychman stared out his new office window at the teeming life of the city below. He turned and said, “If that's what you want, Your Honor.”

“ Have one of your detectives bring this other fellow in, and have others go through the motions. And when you get the real monster, then all will be settled. I should think it would make for a calmer working environment,” said the mayor.

Rychman nodded. “Sure, yes… yes, you're right… if we could get some of the heat off.”

The mayor stood, took Rychman's hand and shook it firmly. “Good, I'm glad we came to some consensus on this matter.” He turned, faced Dr. Coran and said, “Well, Dr. Coran, I'll be anxious to hear that progress toward apprehending this fiend is going forward with your help. Do maintain a low profile.”

“ Yes, of course.” She shook his hand.

The C. R followed the mayor out, but stopped at the door and said, “Alan, I have complete confidence in you. Good luck.”

Rychman allowed his frown to surface only when the C. R was gone, and then he turned his attention on Dr. Coran. “Thanks for being straight.”

“ They've got political reasons for what they do. I don't.”

“ When you came in here together, I thought you were all of one mind.”

“ So did they, apparently.”

He laughed a full laugh, something he'd not done in a long time.

“ I told them,” she continued, “that any bits of information on the investigation they could feed the public might help calm the situation, but I didn't know they were advocating false arrest.”

“ They're getting desperate, but who do they have to blame but themselves? Or me, now that I'm in charge. As to false arrest, if anyone should bring up due process, well, they've still got me as their patsy.”

“ They can deny every word of it,” she agreed, “except that I have it on tape.” She revealed the miniature recorder to his startled eyes. “I use it for autopsy notes. I don't know how I could have left it on.”

Rychman smiled approvingly, laughing again. She liked the sound of his warm, magnetic laughter.

“ You're something else, Dr. Coran,” he said when he regained his composure. Lou ducked in for a quick glance inside to see what the commotion was all about before disappearing again. “I hear you paid a call on Archer yesterday.”

“ That's my job.”

“ Heard you hang tough.”

She nodded, her chin up.

“ Come on,” he said, guiding her to the adjacent crime incident room where they had first met. “At nine we're reassembling for an old-fashioned rap and think-tank session. You're cordially invited.”

“ Would love to, but I've got appointments most all day.”

“ Oh? You're wasting no time.”

“ At nine I begin meetings with each division head in the crime lab,” she said. “I'll listen to each for ideas, suggestions, information and maybe a few tips.”

“ Learn what each is working on; I get it.”

“ And you,” she countered, “you have to find a suitable Claw to arrest.”

“ For the likes of Jim Drake III and the public.”

“ And the mayor.”

“ And Carl.”

“ I'm sure you've got men on your list begging to be arrested for these crimes.”

“ We have that!”

“ Who knows, you might get lucky like the mayor says.”

“ But you and I know better.”

“ We do.”

She started out of the incident room, where the eyeless faces of the photographed victims stared down at them. Alan Rychman, watching her go, almost pursued, thinking he'd ask her for lunch, but he stopped short, afraid of her answer.