Final Edge

CHAPTER 7

An unusual silvery spray of desert rain played lightly over their features, awakening Lucas and Meredyth where they had slept with the creatures of the rocks, here beneath the starlit night that'd become twilight morning. The first of the eastern sun rays had still not reached the boulders, and now Meredyth sat watching the light creep in, creating long dark fingers out of standing cactus plants until these shadows stretched across the desert to them. On first awakening, Meredyth had found herself in the crook of Lucas's arm, and it felt not only good but safe.

They had agreed to turn off their cell phones, and so no one had been able to disturb their evening. On waking, Lucas had pulled free, checking any messages he might have as he rummaged about in the picnic basket and said, "Hey, you hungry? Let's see what's left to drink and eat. Makeshift breakfast here."

She was checking her messages, three-all from Byron Priestly-still desperately seeking her forgiveness. Let him beg another week, she thought, then cut him off at the knees. Byron had caught her at her private practice downtown, where they had often met for dinner and the theater in the past, but this time, she had stormed off from him, leaving him standing in the garage. She'd told him not to call or to come by, but here he was, bugging her.

She joined Lucas and they finished off what was left of the wine and bread, and after watching a circling pair of screeching hawks claiming the territory, Lucas suggested they start back for the city and the other reality awaiting them.

"We didn't make love," she commented on the trip back.

"We were too busy making love to the desert," he countered, "together-of one mind. It was great."

She smiled at this. "You're more the romantic than you pretend, aren't you, Chief? My Wolf Clansman."

Lucas and Meredyth arrived back in the city and at Meredyth's place a few minutes past nine A.M. in a steady rain, and the day doorman, Stuart Long, greeted them with an envelope from Byron and complaints. "Lost time on the job over this thing…long and frustrating hours spent with that sketch artist. So I took over Max's shift last night, and so here I am, bloodshot eyes, dog's at home alone, nobody to feed 'im, putting in long hours here-get it, Long hours. Hi and hello," he added, taking Lucas's hand, shaking it. "I'm Stuart Long."

"Detective Stonecoat, Lucas." Lucas then asked, "So, you got a sketch done at the station house?"

'Talk about long hours…going downtown to give a statement and a description of the guy who left that damnable parcel with me. I told 'em what little I know, Dr. Sanger, but it wasn't much. The guy was an everyman type, you know, nothing whatever to distinguish him. The guy was like medium everything, medium height, medium weight, medium shoe size, medium brown hair, glasses, kinda geekish-looking, wore a buttoned-up Ralph Lauren polo shirt knockoff over ordinary slacks. Nothing about his features stuck out. Clean shaven. I think the composite they did may's well be a blank slate."

Meredyth had tom open Byron's envelope, glanced at the communique, and angrily stuffed it into her purse when she could find no nearby trash container. In her purse, she came across the folded copy of the sketch Kelton had given her the night before. She snatched it out, offering it to Lucas.

He frowned and stared at the depiction-mostly blank space-and said, "Hmmm…I see what you mean, Mr. Long. This… this is extremely"-useless, he thought but didn't wish to insult-"extremely helpful."

"BS, Detective. It's all medium… everything about the guy was medium, even his nose. When they showed me those books of collected ears, noses, eyes, chins, shit…all I kept picking out was the medium ones," Stu continued nonstop as if on speed, his shoulders rising and lowering as if on automatic. "I'm for damn sure going to be more observant in the future."

"Not at all, Stu," replied Meredyth, waving him down. "Thanks for taking the time going in and giving the artist what you could."

"Did you notice any odors clinging to the man?" asked Lucas out of the blue.

"Odors… hmmm… That's interesting you should ask." Long bit his lower lip, contemplating this. "On account-a-there was something… something odd like…like…can't place it now."

"Detective Stonecoat is a great believer in the power of the olfactory nerves to bring back visual memories, Stu. Being a psychiatrist, I'd have to agree."

"It is, after all, the first sense used in tracking an animal," Lucas commented.

"I tell you, there was something odd clinging to this guy ……."

"Go on," urged Lucas, "an odor like the inside of a really raunchy pair of old sneakers perhaps?"

"No…not exactly."

"Or the back room of a moldy tenement?"

"Yeah…mold, only…only a little different than that…something like…like mildew, only added to a faintly nauseating chemical odor."

"Chemical odor?"

"You know, like you smell in a hospital."

"Excellent," said Meredyth. "You do remember something, Mr. Long, and it's more than a medium memory."

"Oh, and there's something else I remember that was unusual about the guy now," replied Long. "He had this mole right here on his left cheek." Long pointed to the spot. "Like…like that kid character in the Waltons, John Boy? Only…only there was a nasty hair growing out of this mole. Damn, I didn't tell that to the sketch artist."

"Anything else?" pressed Lucas.

"Keep recalling that odor on his clothes, on his skin," added Meredyth. They both knew that recalled odors brought back more recall in the visual imagery centers of the cortex.

Long announced, "His eyebrows were black."

"And so how is that important?" urged Meredyth.

"Well, his hair was blond…maybe dyed. Maybe that was the smell coming off him? I told the artist he had blond hair, but now I think about it, the roots were dark, and definitely the eyebrows were dark brown or black. Didn't get that detail into the sketch either."

Lucas asked, "You sure it wasn't a wig?"

"Could've been…I suppose."

"Did the sketch artist give you his card?"

"Yeah, she did. I'll give her a call. In the meantime, Dr. Sanger, you'll want to see the early edition of the Chronicle." He held the newspaper in his hands up to her. "I swear I had nothing to do with this. I like my job too much."

Meredyth took in the front page headline: "SHRINKING IN HORROR-Killer Sends Victim's Eyes, Teeth to Police Shrink."

"Damn," she moaned, shaking the paper. "They've got the story already."

With Stu Long helping passing residents at the door, Lucas read over Meredyth's shoulder. The details remained sketchy, and the reporters had used no names, but she and Lucas knew they'd soon be reading follow-up, in-depth pieces, and that radio and TV news would soon be airing the story as well-with all the gusto and details their crack reporters could muster.

"Who the hell're these unnamed sources?" she wondered aloud.

"Probably Bye-bye Byron?" His suggestion fell flat.

"No…not Byron."

"Why not? His fifteen minutes of fame?"

"He wouldn't, that's all."

"Like you know him well enough to know?"

She went to her mailbox, opened it, and snatched out several bills and junk mail.

"Mere, you didn't expect him to run outta the condo and leave you holding the bag either, but he did."

"Lucas, he's not going to be allowed back into my bed, all right? Satisfied?"

"Then why're you hanging onto his letter?"

"It's trash and I don't litter. I'll bum it upstairs if you like, but I won't be convinced that he's talking to the press."

"Even if he isn't talking to the press, they're likely tailing him right to you."

"Drop it, Lucas!"

"Whoever the unnamed sources may be, it won't be long before the hounds sniff out news of the severed hand," he replied. "And once it becomes public…about where this connected incident occurred, anyone might surmise the central characters in the story are you and me, Mere.

"I'm so glad my parents are out of the country."

"It's likely just what this certifiable creep is looking for, his fifteen minutes of fame," he suggested, dropping the newspaper back onto the information desk.

Lucas turned to find her gone. He had to dash to keep pace. Meredyth had stiffly stalked off, rushing through the posh lounge area, pushing through an inner door, and now she leaned into the elevator call button. He caught up with her there, still talking. "It's the new American way. Mere- do anything, go anywhere for a fleeting moment before the new idol in the desert."

"What the hell're you onto now, Lucas? Have you been into your stash this morning already?"

"The golden calf's now the golden camera, and you Anglos have created your own nightmare," he said, ignoring her question.

"What's that supposed to mean, Lucas?" she fired back, reminding him of how fragile their relationship really was.

"In a culture that can award an Emmy nomination to the Osbornes for best TV reality programming," Lucas began as she boarded the elevator and he stepped in behind, "a culture that rewards a sniper killer with literally millions of minutes of air time and creates an event out of the most wanted man in America, a cowardly murderer, it should come as no surprise that some nutcase thinks he can make prime time by turning a murder into a game show for a perverse idol-himself.!"

Moments before the elevator doors closed, an elderly woman with a schnauzer came aboard, the little dog yip- ping at Lucas as he continued lecturing Meredyth. "Look at our case, Mere. The media attention is already in full swing. What body part will next appear? Ears, toes, arms, what? Odds-makers in Vegas and on the Internet will be making book on it, believe me, and Real 7V'll have their cameras rolling."

The dog continued barking, and the white-haired lady hugged the dog protectively in the folds of her coat, cooing his name, soothing him. "Pudgy-woo, pudgy-coo…it's all right, baby." She gave a disapproving look in Meredyth's direction. "Really, Dr. Sanger, there's been so much disruption in our building of late."

"I'm sure everything's going to calm down now, Mrs. Chandler. You and little Pudge don't have to worry."

"I've had inquiries, you know, from all sorts of people, but as I tell them, I know nothing of what's happened in the building."

The elevator doors opened on her floor, and Mrs. Chandler and Pudge alighted from the cab.

Lucas and Meredyth rode up the rest of the way in silence, each contemplating what lay between them and ahead for them, dividing their thoughts between a lunatic who had targeted them and their struggling relationship.

As they now approached Meredyth's door, they saw there was no eerie little package left in her doorway. "This is crazy… like walking through a minefield just to get home," she complained.

Lucas thought the analogy apt, that the killer had put them through an emotional minefield.

Opening her door, stepping inside, they found stains still on the carpet. "I have a cleaning service coming in tomorrow. They couldn't fit me in any sooner," she told him when she noticed Lucas staring at the marks on the plush gray pile. He watched her eyes roam the room to be certain nothing had been left inside by any well-meaning doorman.

"We made it," he declared for her.

She tossed her purse and keys on a table and said, "I gotta get a shower, wash away the stress. Want to join me?" she called out over her shoulder. Not waiting for an answer, Meredyth instantly went for her bedroom and shower, telling Lucas, "If you're not coming in, at least make yourself a sandwich. Make yourself at home."

"I need to make a call, okay?"

She was gone. He heard the spray of the shower like the dull cascade of a waterfall wafting down the corridor from her open bedroom door. Lucas called into the precinct, telling Kelton he and Dr. Sanger would be late arriving this morning, that she'd needed time to recuperate. "And I'm not leaving her alone here, understood? Anyone desperately seeking either of us, we can be reached at her home number."

"Good idea. She's been through hell. You've gotta get this creep, Lucas, and fast."

"My sentiments exactly. Workin' on it."

"You see the Chronicle?"

"Saw it."

"Can't keep a story like that under wraps, Lieutenant. May as well try to keep a wolverine in a birdcage."

Lucas grunted and asked, "Put me through to the crime lab, Dr. Davies if he's available."

Lucas waited to be patched through. "Yes, this is Tom Davies."

"Detective Stonecoat, Doctor."

"Oh, good…glad you called. Saves me calling round for you and Dr. Sanger."

"Then you have news one way or the other regarding the dental records and the teeth?"

"I do. We have a winner, a hit."

Lucas's fist clenched in the gesture of victory. "Great! Excellent."

"Want to take a stab at which of the three matched?" Davies offered.

Lucas recalled the M.E.'s determination that the hand found with the writing on it indicated a left-handed victim. "Mira Lourdes," he guessed.

"Uncanny," replied Davies. "Someone told me you were psychic."

"I had a lot of help on this one, Doc."

Davies went on. "The victim's teeth, an upper and lower, one bicuspid, the other a front tooth, matched perfectly with Lourdes's dental chart."

"No doubts or margin of error here, Dr. Davies?"

"I've made nineteen comparison points on one tooth, fourteen on the other. Enough to hold up in any courtroom in the land."

"That's good news. Doctor. You must have worked all night. Don't let anything happen to the evidence."

"Not to worry. After hearing about what occurred in the garage last night, I felt it best to make short work of it, Detective."

"Thanks again."

"My pleasure. Hope we can end this nightmare for the two of you."

"Mira Lourdes was a woman with a boyfriend who claims she disappeared when trying to sell her car. Claims she was abducted from her own driveway."

"It has happened before," Davies replied.

"Something screwy about the guy."

"If you say so, Detective. You seem to have terrific instincts. Look, I'll have a copy of my full report on your desk by mid-morning. The original will go to Dr. Chang to accompany the mounting evidence against our man, whoever he is."

"Yeah, now all we need is to answer the question of who would want Mira Lourdes dead and why."

"And why the game with the body parts?"

"Someone who can tell us all about what only he and we know."

"Chang says the hand was severed with a powerful rotary saw, exactly the sort used in an autopsy," added Davies. "Very odd game he is playing with you and Dr. Sanger, odd indeed. Well, I'm exhausted and am going home now."

"Yeah, kind of tired myself. Think I'll go take a shower."

"Good luck on tracking down this fiend, Detective."

"Thanks, I'm doing my damnedest."

Lucas hung up, deciding he could use that shower and some foreplay with Meredyth, and perhaps convince her that they should take the day off. He went toward the bed-room, stripping away his shirt and pants, going for the shower. Inside the bathroom, a steam cloud filled the space, billowing out at him and the adjacent bedroom. He stripped down completely now, dropping all his clothing and stepping into Meredyth's cloud, recalling her peyote dream of the other night.

When he opened the shower door and stepped through the cloud and into the cascading spray, he took her in his arms and kissed her, his long mane of hair blending with hers.

"Just what the hell're you doing?" she said in mock alarm.

"I've come to fulfill your dream."

"We're not the least conceited now, are we, Lucas Stonecoat?"

"No, I mean, I am stepping into your cloud…like in your dream? Coming into your dream cloud." He held his arms out to indicate the steam cloud around them.

She laughed. "Oh, yeah…I get it, stepping into my cloud."

"You see me now, don't you? That I belong in your cloud with you?"

"Perhaps clearly for the first time," she replied, wrapping her glistening, soap-covered arms around him. She kissed Lucas, and he returned the kiss. She ran her fingers through his long hair, saying, "Let me wash that long mane of yours, my Indian lover."

Lucas turned his back to her and allowed her to do exactly that.

BY MID MORNING THEY were driving to downtown Houston and the precinct. On the trip, Lucas brought Meredyth up to date on Dr. Davies's findings, that they had an identity for the Jane Doe whose body parts some geeky- looking wacked-out maniac was sending to them piece by piece.

When Lucas told her the name of the victim, Meredyth repeated it, "Mira Lourdes…Mira Lourdes…means nothing to me. What possible connection is there between us, Lucas? What do we know about her?"

Lucas told her all that they had learned of Mira Lourdes, and how she had supposedly disappeared. "I suspect her abduction was random, that it had to do with her placing the ad, and inadvertently letting her guard down, placing herself in a vulnerable position by going with this couple seen by the neighbor, unless the boyfriend's story is a complete fabrication. I'm sure we'll be talking a great deal more to him if he doesn't lawyer up."

They fell silent as the car whizzed past gas stations, fast-food restaurants, newsstands, parking garages, bus stops, churches, mosques, all reflecting off the windshield. "Wonder what that chemical odor was that Stu smelled on the guy who delivered the package," she said, breaking the silence.

"Anything from disinfectant to formaldehyde, I suppose," replied Lucas. "Points again to a medical type of some sort."

"Do you really think we're dealing with some kind of medical Jack the Ripper?"

"The way the organs were sliced…the precision…the way her hand was severed so cleanly with a surgical saw. Not to mention the removal of the teeth, and the eyes intact. Yeah, I'd bet on it; our guy is a medical man."

"Or a butcher, or a carpenter, or a barber. Hell, he could be anyone, Lucas! A lousy failed gynecologist or Navy chef, any moke with the right tools for plucking out eyes and pulling teeth and cleaving off a hand."

"Whoever did this also opened up the chest cavity and removed internal organs. Mere. It requires some precision to make the cuts he left for me. Even Chang was impressed."

"Impressed? Nothing this monster can do to us can ever impress me, Lucas."

"Perhaps impressed is a poor choice of words." They had arrived at the precinct when Lucas's cell rang out. He lifted it and immediately acknowledged Jana North's voice, unaware that this made Meredyth stiffen alongside him. When he got off the phone, he told Meredyth, "Jana's waiting for us in your office. Wants to discuss the case with us. Seems she's talked to Dr. Davies and has informed the family that Mira Lourdes is being chopped into little pieces and put into boxes and forwarded to you and me."

"Jesus, Lucas, this thing's blowing up fast now, and we haven't a clue as to who is behind it. This is going to make us look like…like…"

"A couple of incompetents, I know. Shit! I can't believe Jana's done this."

"Why not? From a Missing Persons departmental point of view, she's solved her case. Mira Lourdes has been located, so to speak."

"Determined dead maybe, but Jana's got no corpus delecti."

"Only bits and pieces of the corpse."

"She damn sure could've waited on it, and given us more time."

"So, you still think Byron's the unnamed source we need to worry about? Just tell me this, Lucas Stonecoat…"

He gnashed his teeth, readying for her attack. "What?"

"Are you going to take Detective North to task?"

"Damn straight."

She inwardly smiled. "I want to see this."

Detective Jana North was awaiting them both in Meredyth's office. She and Meredyth exchanged perfunctory hellos, knowing one another professionally. "I've informed the parents and Mira's live-in, Dwayne Stokes, that we know Mira is dead and that parts of her are being sent to law-enforcement officials in a sick game of cat-and- mouse initiated by the killer."

"Jeeze, Jana, that information's gone out to the family and that idiot Stokes? It's going to be all over the six o'clock news."

"This is a Missing Persons case, Lucas. We have to keep the family informed. It's the way we work."

"No Jana, it's a murder case, a homicide. That takes precedence over your jurisdiction, and you know that. You also know we don't work homicide that way."

"Ease off, Lucas," Meredyth said. She addressed Jana. "God, it must've been extremely difficult breaking such news to the parents." Meredyth felt a genuine guilt now, seeing that Jana was hurt by Lucas's words.

"They had to know, Lucas," said Jana. "Soon as I learned about the match made by Davies, I tried to find you. When I couldn't, I went over there to talk to the parents. I swore them to keep it confidential for now."

"Can't imagine the shock of it for the parents," Meredyth sympathetically added.

"But you didn't stop with the parents. You told Stokes what we have. Just wish you'd have held off, Jana." The annoyance in Lucas's voice hung in the air. "I would've liked to have seen Stokes's reaction."

"All right, maybe I should've held off."

"How'd Dwayne react to the news?"

"Devastated, as far as I could see."

"He's hiding something."

"He lost his legs and his breakfast. As far as the parents go, better they should get the news through us than hearing it on MSNBC or reading it in the Chronicle, and the way information's leaking from your precinct, Lucas, I think I did the right thing."

"Regardless of Stokes's theatrics, Jana, I think we need to get him in here and grill his ass for all he's worth," said Lucas. "I think he knows more than he's telling."

"I'm on top of it, Lucas."

"How, Jana, are you on top of it?"

"He's in interrogation now, and has stuck tenaciously to his story. That she was abducted by a couple to whom she was showing the Saab."

Meredyth piped in, saying, "Whoa, it was my understanding that he never actually saw the couple, that he only heard about them."

"Right."

"Then how is he sticking to the story?"

Jana looked firmly in Meredyth's green eyes. "Doctor, I meant he is sticking to his alibi-that he was at work at the taco stand in the mall where he is the night manager, and his multiple alibis are being checked. In the meantime, he's cooperated in helping us to get the neighbor to take a deposition as a witness through official contacts we've made in Jamaica. So both of you, ease off Jana, okay?"

Lucas and Meredyth exchanged a look and each apologized to Jana. Lucas then asked, "What about the impounded Saab? Anything found there?"

Jana made herself comfortable, taking one of two chairs facing Meredyth's desk. Meredyth sat behind her desk, and Lucas took the seat beside Jana.

"A CSI team is going over the Saab. So far, they've found a stain on the front passenger side, the cloth seat. Nielsen says it's chloroform."

"Chloroform, really?"

"Which explains how she was subdued," said Meredyth.

"The abductor likely took her from behind while inside the car, from the rear seat," explained Jana.

Lucas, nodding, added, "Which suggest two perps at work here, one driving, one attacking."

"All of which verifies Dwayne's story-or rather Mrs. Paulis's story."

"Really? Then Stokes is off the hook?"

"Perhaps. Waiting for a call from Jamaica."

"Still, good ol' Dwayne may've hired the couple that abducted and killed her."

"Possibly," she agreed, "but as much as he hated the car, don't you think he would've paid them to take it as well?" asked Jana, smirking.

Lucas smiled wryly and nodded.

"Any case, he's agreed to a lie detector test. That's being arranged as we speak."

"Any other news?"

"Well, you asked about the car. CSI did find strands of Mira's hair, and fibers from the cloth seat in the trunk, not unusual since it's her car, but it could indicate she spent some time locked away there."

"Imagine the gall," said Meredyth, picturing it as Lucas had described the circumstances surrounding Mira Lourdes's disappearance, "leaving his own car at the scene of the abduction… taking Lourdes back to her own driveway…switching cars and switching Mira from the Saab to the car he arrived in… and finally driving off with her."

"We need the woman in Jamaica to give a description of the guy's car," said Lucas. "Get what you can from her on it."

"The bastard did it all with the passive assistance of the girlfriend or the wife, whoever she was-likely in great fear of him," Meredyth added. "So she assists in abducting a surrogate."

"Surrogate?" asked Jana North.

"A stand-in for herself."

"Stand-in for what?"

"A punching bag, a sex slave, a torture chamber victim, you name it. The wife or girlfriend tires of being these things that pleasure him, so together they strike up a plan to abduct someone to fill the role, so the wife-girlfriend can step out of that role of victim. Both partners are happy with the new arrangement. He gets a new sex partner to bully and torture, and she gets shed of his bullying and torturing."

"Then her role in abducting and premeditated torture isn't so passive after all, is it?" asked Jana.

"No, not always, not entirely. If she sat in back while he drove, for instance, she attacked Mira and sent her into a defenseless unconsciousness."

Lucas added, "I've seen such domination of women myself. Meredyth could be right."

The three sat for a moment in silence, contemplating the new developments.

Then Jana asked, "Does the name Mira Lourdes mean anything at all to you, Dr. Sanger?"

"Nothing. A total blank."

"We haven't found any connection between us and Lourdes," Lucas assured Detective North.

"So where does that leave us?"

"The connection is to the killer," concluded Meredyth. "Mira Lourdes is somehow connected to her killer, not us, not Lucas and me."

"But this abduction seems random. According to her family and the boyfriend, she had no enemies." Jana shook her head. "What does that mean, Dr. Sanger?" she challenged.

"There may be no connection in our reality, Jana, that is, the real world, but maybe there is a connection in his reality, his warped mind."

"I see, a warped fantastical notion that Mira Lourdes belongs to him is all the connection he needs. But that could just as well apply to his attraction to you since, obviously, Mira Lourdes did not work out."

Meredyth stared at Detective North and swallowed hard. Lucas contemplated the ramifications of what Jana had just said.

"If that is the case," said Meredyth, "then some nut-ball is stalking me for a surrogate slave, and his woman is helping him in this fantasy turned on me. But such a theory doesn't take into account his taunting Lucas."

Meredyth paced to the window and stared out to the busy street below. "As far as connecting with me or Lucas…well, the creep could well've seen us on the tube, you know, during the Walters case, or even the Casde trials, or being interviewed when we broke that Internet murder ring ten years ago for all we know."

"Yes, well, that's true. You two have made news. You both come with the badge of notoriety as a result."

Meredyth returned to her seat and dropped into it, looking defeated. "Maybe it's time to change professions."

Lucas leaned across the desk and said to her, "Mere, I know it has occurred to you that the killer is simply interested in the notoriety that he can achieve or…or create for himself."

"Big bucks these days in murderabilia," she replied.

"Murderabilia?" asked Jana.

"You know, the peddling of murder paraphernalia, serial-killer collectables and trading cards…."

This set Lucas's teeth on edge, and he further explained. "Buying and selling of anything connected with sociopaths and psychos, from John Wayne Gacy's clown suit, his circus clown paintings, to Danny Rollings's nose clippers and the radio knob offa Ted Bundy's Volkswagen, or the car itself, all going for auction on eBay."

"Christ, perhaps that's all he wants, to be ranked among the big boys of criminal history," suggested Jana, her forehead creasing with the implications of such a notion.

"In which case he may believe he knows us, but we don't have any idea who he is or any connection whatsoever to him in our reality, only in his, as I said," Meredyth added. "His relationship with Mira Lourdes may well've been another twist in the same path. Say he saw her at her place of work, interacted with her, and she became a luminary star for him."

"That's scary," replied Jana. "Reminds me of an obsessive boy who tagged me as his special angel when I was only sixteen."

"When was that, last year?" asked Meredyth, smiling.

"Thanks for the compliment."

"So we're talking stalking behaviors, stalker-think, that all too familiar brand of magical thinking affecting too damn many American males nowadays," said Lucas.

"If we're dealing with a guy with a psychosis, perhaps he's a patient or former patient of yours, Dr. Sanger," Jana suggested, moving about the room now, thinking on her feet. "I'm sure you've considered that possibility."

"We're going to spend the day going over recent and old cases and patients," Lucas assured Jana.

"I mean, it could just be a guy with a grudge," cautioned Jana. "A screwy revenge motive connection that has nothing to do with die media spotlight?"

"Quite possible," conceded Meredyth.

"Either way, I guess the killer has selected you two for his purposes, and he thinks you have a personal relationship, twisted as that may be," said Jana. "I suggest you need a third partner in this, someone with a bit more objectivity, and since the victim is one of my missing persons cases, I'd like to be that person."

"I have no objection," Meredyth replied. "Given Captain Lincoln's order to catch this freak before things get any further out of hand, we welcome your help, Jana."

"Lucas? What do you say?"

They shook on it and together they went downstairs to interrogation to see what progress, if any, had come of the Dwayne Stokes polygraph test. Lucas joked with Jana along the way, asking, "Will the questions like be couched in phrases beginning with like, dude?"

Jana laughed. Meredyth kept her eyes on Lucas, and she hoped her plan, to keep her rival for his affections-the enemy-close, might work.

Jana's best interrogation team had Dwayne hooked up and sweating out every answer to questions. He was hooked up to two machines simultaneously, a typical lie detector/polygraph, all looking normal, and a state-of-the- art, computer interface polygraph with a computer screen for a readout and electrodes that attached to a skullcap placed on the head, looking like something out of a modem-day Frankenstein tale-a modem-day, extremely intimidating he detector that purported to read lies via brain-wave activity.

For the first time, Lucas felt some compassion for young Dwayne. The fellow looked like a frightened guinea pig, fearful his brain would either be fried or transferred to the polygraph operator. The sight gave Lucas pause, and he related a method he had used on occasion to extract a confession. He told Jana and Meredyth about a time when he and other detectives routinely fooled suspects into believing an ordinary Xerox copier was capable of reading thoughts, that it was a sophisticated brain-wave lie detector. He had personally gotten six confessions using the old Xerox machine.

When Jana stopped laughing, she opened the intercom link and asked the polygraph examiner, a young man who looked fresh out of high school, to step outside for a moment. He did so, and she introduced Meredyth and Lucas to Police Force Cadet Peter Markson.

"Peter here is our resident expert on the new brain reader in there," she explained.

"It's a BPR hooked to an IBM imaging computer that prints faster than you can blink," said Markson.

"BPR?" Lucas asked.

"BrainPrint 2232, deluxe model."

The second polygraph inspector joined them, leaving Stokes alone inside, nervously snatching cables from his body and brain. The second operator handled the older polygraph using galvanic skin responses. He introduced himself to Lucas as Earl Harmond and he pumped Lucas's arm, his eyes wide with admiration. "Mr. Stonecoat…Detective… you're a hero and local legend. I–I'm so proud, sir, to be acting as HPD civilian support personnel on one of your cases. I've been a fan since I was a kid."

"Your help is appreciated. What do your machines say about Dwayne Stokes?"

"Rules him out. He's telling the truth."

"No way he could be faking it," added Markson. "The BPR never lies."

"You implying my machine does?" argued Earl.

"I'm saying, Earl, our machines agree, and so can we." Markson led Lucas closer to the one-way mirror and pointed in to where Stokes was taking off the final electrodes.

"See the electrode attachment cap for his head? This technology measures brain-wave patterns as well as galvanic skin response-a perfect blending of old and new technologies. We've got all the bases covered. Unless this guy is Houdini, he gets a pass."

"Then we work on the assumption the abduction took place as he pieced it together from the neighbor," said Lucas, seeing that Earl had reentered the interrogation room, telling Stokes that he had passed with flying colors.

Meredyth said, "We need to get the neighbor back to Houston. Get her to our sketch artist, hypnotize her, whatever it takes to get more details from her."

Jana looked at her watch to punctuate her words. "I'm working on that now, but it's sometimes hard to get citizens to cooperate in an investigation. Too many have seen what happens to witnesses on The Sopranos and Law and Order. Look, I gotta go." She dashed off.

"If the Jamaica connection calls, let us know!" Lucas shouted after Jana. Meredyth dug a heel into his boot.

"Hey, what's that for?" he asked.

"You don't have to be so chummy with Detective North, Lucas."

"Hey, Mere, what the devil're you talking about?"

"Men really are from Mars."

"Why don't we get started on those old case files of yours."

"I told you before, Lucas, confidentiality laws prohibit me from sharing patient information with cops. Haven't I always kept your confidences even though on occasion it meant breaking the law? How'd you like it if I shared what I know about you with, say, IAD? It'd put you behind bars, Lucas. See now why these rules of conduct and ethics need to be in place?"

"All right…you and your intern can go over the shrinkology files, but there's nothing says I can't explore old cases brought to trial by you, me, or the both of us."

"Fine, let's divvy the workload up that way, but I expect to find you up to your elbows in paperwork, not up to your ass in Jana North."

She stormed back toward her office, a handkerchief dabbing at her eyes. He started after her, but stopped and shouted instead. "That's uncalled for, Mere!"

Markson came around a comer with a cup of coffee paused at his lips. "Something wrong?"

Lucas, ignoring the cadet wiz kid, shouted down the corridor at the fleeing Meredyth. "You're doing it again! Push me away! Go ahead! Create excuses out of thin air."

She turned and with her teeth set in a firm jaw, began to speak, but only stammered.

"It's all smoke and mirrors, your little magic show," Lucas shouted, "so you don't have to really deal with us, with what's happened between us over the last two days, Mere!"

But she slipped into the elevator, disappearing from his sight. Lucas was left standing all alone, people around him politely pretending they'd heard nothing, going about their business. Lucas went for the stairwell, deciding the only safe place might be the Cold Room and his desk.