Riptide

thirty-five

Casey left her in the break room of the station house, suggesting she get herself something to eat. It seemed odd to think about sustenance. She rummaged in the cabinets and found Saltines. Crunching the dry crackers, she thought about guilt.

Casey was right; no one would blame her. Yet she blamed herself. Maybe she was just obsessive by nature.

She remembered the long hours she’d spent in the Santa Monica Library-the old library, not the modernistic palace that replaced it-scrolling through newspapers on microfilm, researching her father’s suicide. She’d done it in secret, telling no one, not her mother, not even Richard. She talked to the neighbors who had known him. She learned everything she could, though the task was painful and pointless.

Yet not entirely pointless. She had a purpose, one she had scarcely admitted even to herself. She was driven by fear of inheriting her father’s insanity. And so she needed to know all about it, to know the warning signs, the timetable. From her late teens onward, she’d been on guard against the onset of schizophrenia, relaxing only when she entered her late twenties and statistics said she was at minimal risk. She had been spared.

Then Richard had been taken. It was Richard the disease wanted, not her.

And part of her-part of her had felt grateful.

Even as she grieved for her brother, part of her had stood back, thinking, Thank God it’s not me.

She had never quite admitted it to herself-how thankful she’d been. How selfishly pleased that the hand of fate had passed her by and fingered Richard instead.

She wondered why the revelation would hit her now, of all times. Maybe because her defenses were down, all rationalizations stripped bare.

If she could change places with him…if she could be the crazy one…would she do it? Would she make the trade?

No point in thinking about it. Thoughts like that would only-she shook her head-would only make her nuts.

The cell phone in her pocket let out the special ring tone that signaled an SMS alert. She had a text message.

From Abberline.

She stared at the phone, reading the words on the display screen.

Need to talk.

For a moment she couldn’t react. This was just a new facet of her nightmare. It wasn’t real, and even if it was, she couldn’t deal with it.

But this was Richard. Reaching out to her.

She had promised herself she would always be there for him. And yet she couldn’t break that promise, even now.

Her fingers trembled as she tapped a response. I’m here.

You chased me. You brought the police after me.

I have to stop you, Richard. I don’t want you to kill anymore.

There was a long pause. She feared he’d gone away. Then he answered, I don’t want to, either.

She needed to believe him. But she forced herself to be analytical, to approach the communication the same way she’d approached the threat letter to Marilyn Diaz. To follow the red thread wherever it might lead.

He’d already noted her association with the police. If the police were his enemies, then so was she. Why would he open up to someone working against him?

That’s good, Richard, she wrote cautiously. That’s the right way to feel.

Can’t run forever.

OK.

Need to turn myself in.

OK.

They’ll put me in a hospital.

She couldn’t dispute this. He was too smart to tolerate any lies. In the hospital you can get better, she answered.

I’ll never be free again. I’ll be alone.

Not alone. I’ll come see you.

You’re just telling me what I want to hear.

She wondered about that statement. He’d already said he wanted to stop killing. Was he just telling her what she wanted to hear? It wasn’t uncommon for a writer to project his own state of mind onto others.

I’m telling you the truth, she typed.

You’re a liar. Setting me up.

I’m being honest, Richard. The next move is up to you.

Another long pause. Genuine, or for dramatic effect?

I’ll surrender to you, he wrote. No one else. Just you. At the house.

He wanted her alone behind closed doors. He’d said she was setting him up. It looked more like it was the other way around.

Unless he was sincere. She couldn’t rule it out.

We’ll have to go to the police, she told him, just to test his reaction.

I know. You swear you won’t let them hurt me?

I’ve always looked out for you. Haven’t I?

You should have looked out for yourself. (Was his subconscious telling her to look out for herself now?) You would have lived a better life. (Look out for herself if she wanted to live?) You wouldn’t have been trapped in that old house with those old bones. (Look out for herself or be trapped like those victims from long ago?)

That’s all in the past, she wrote. We have to work together now. Will you come to the house?

I’ll come. 10 PM.

She checked her watch. It was after nine already. I’ll be there, she wrote.

Just you.

Just me.

There were no more messages. She slipped the phone into her pocket and stood thinking.

Yes, she might feel guilty. Maybe she had good reason to feel that way. But she couldn’t let guilt skew her judgment or stifle her intuition.

If anyone but her brother had sent that message, she would have read it as a threat, a trap. That was how she had to read it now. After what he’d done to Maura, she could give him no benefit of the doubt.

She found Casey in a corner of the squad room studying a map of the division. He glanced up as she approached.

“No news,” he said. “We’ve got every unit looking for him, and additional squad cars redeployed from other areas. We’re working the streets, beaches-everywhere. It’s only a matter of time.”

“I was just in contact with him.”

“What?”

“He texted me on my cell. Says he wants to give himself up. Wants to meet me alone at my house at ten PM.”

“No way. That’s not going to happen.”

“I know it’s not. But if we send a platoon of cops, he’ll never go through with it. It has to be handled differently.”

“Handled how?”

“I want you to arrest him.”

“I’ll supervise.”

“No. Just you.”

“I can’t do it alone, Jennifer. Maybe…if we bring in Draper…”

“No.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I don’t trust him to handle the situation so Richard doesn’t get hurt.”

“Because of what I told you about the civilian complaints?”

“And the domestic abuse.” And what she’d seen when she was with him today.

“Roy’s a good cop. Forget what I said. I was just blowing off steam.”

“I can’t forget. If we’re doing this, we’re going to make sure Richard doesn’t get hurt.”

“It’s impossible to guarantee that.”

“I trust you to try your best. I trust you,” she stressed. “And only you.”

“I don’t know,” Casey kept his voice low. “It’s not exactly standard procedure.”

“Screw standard procedure.” Her own vehemence surprised her. “Standard procedure is what you tried at the hotel. We can’t let him run again. We may not have another opportunity like this.”

He thought it over. “Okay,” he said finally. “I’ll take care of it. But you’re not coming. That’s nonnegotiable. If you insist on tagging along, the deal’s off.”

She’d expected as much. “I understand.”

“You’re staying here in the station until I get back. And you have to keep your mouth shut about what’s going on. We’re looking at some serious blowback unless this is handled just right.”

“Got it.” She handed over her house keys. “These will let you in. You might want to use the back door so nobody sees you enter. The smallest key fits the lock on the gate to the backyard.”

Casey pocketed the keys. “Sit tight. With any luck, this’ll all be over soon.”

She watched him walk away. She gave him five minutes to get into his car and drive off.

Then she walked out of the squad room and down the hall to the rear door that led to the parking lot. Her car was still parked where she’d left it after driving over from the library. And though she’d given Casey her house keys, she’d retained the car key, which she kept on a separate ring.

She got into the Prius and started the engine.

Of course she wasn’t going to sit around until Richard was in custody. He had been there for her when she needed him most, and she would be there for him now, whatever the risk. It might be guilt that was motivating her, or it might be love.

When it came to family, maybe there was no difference.