Unnatural Instinct

THIRTEEN

The call was indeed from Iowa State Patrol Chief Virgil

Gorman, who asked if he were speaking to Agent Jessica Coran.

“ Yes, this is Dr. Coran, Chief Gorman. Everyone in my command is listening in on speakerphone. Go ahead, please.”

“ You sound tired, Doctor. You may want to take this news sitting down.”

Jessica looked across at Richard, whose expression was meant to cheer her and encourage her. She was glad to have his support. “The better part of the team is in the room, Chief Gorman,” Jessica replied. “We've all been anxiously awaiting news, so what have you got for us?” She fully expected him to say that he had located DeCampe's lifeless body.

“ I've got some good news… some bad,” he came back.

“ Go on.”

People in the ops room looked about at one another. “We've hit a box… pine wood box, Dr. Coran.”

“ Inside the freshly dug grave, I presume?”

“ Yes, buried out back of the farmstead.”

“ Bastard…” Jessica muttered.

“ Prying it open now. He's nailed it but good. Don't imagine we're going to find anyone alive…”

“ Oh, Jesus,” groaned Jessica. Jessica saw the horror of the others in the conference room, each imagining the terror of being buried alive. Had that been the price exacted of Maureen DeCampe? Jessica tried to imagine the ordeal of such a fate. No one deserved to die in such a fashion. The entire team had been affected by the news that Gorman had brought them. With Gorman's voice gone silent, a wrenching metal sound reverberated all the way from Iowa though the wires and around the ops room: the sound of prying metal, the irritating noise of men struggling painstakingly, panting as they did battle with a coffin lid.

“ Thought you'd want to be in on the opening,” said Gorman. “That noise you hear is crowbars.”

Then everyone in D.C. heard a collective, “Ohhh, Jeeeez- uuus” float through the line. Jessica promptly asked, “What is it? She's dead, isn't she? That son of a bitch's succeeded.”

“ No, Dr. Coran… At least not yet, he hasn't.”

“ No? Is she-”

“ We have a body, and yes, it's a woman all right, but she's seventy if she's a day, and our collective thinking says it's Mrs. Purdy, Isaiah's wife. Apparently she died out here, and he buried her without any fanfare, and certainly without bothering authorities.”

“ One more charge to level at the old devil,” she replied. “We're taking the body in for an autopsy, just to be certain it's death from natural causes.”

“ It's what I'd do if I were there, I can assure you,” she replied.

“ Could be what set Purdy off,” suggested Richard Sharpe, now standing alongside Jessica. “You know, loss of a lifetime partner? Does strange things to people's heads,” finished Richard.

Jessica asked, “No sign whatsoever of another burial site? We had assumed he'd return to safe ground to bury his son and the judge on his farmstead.”

“ Maybe you're assuming too much. Or like one of my boys here said, maybe the suspect's still on his way. It's a long way for an old man to drive alone with two coffins in the rear of his van, all the way to Huntsville, then he's gotta detour to D.C. to abduct the judge. That's a g'damn marathon in itself, and this guy's no spring chicken.”

“ Which means he could still be on the road back to the farm. So you will keep an eye on the place, right?”

“ Course we're going to keep surveillance on the place for a few days. And we're going to cover every inch of ground out here and pry open anything remotely curious, and any one remotely connected with the old man before we're done.”

“ Again, my thanks, Chief… and thanks for all the effort. This old man is shrewd like a fox,” she said.

“ Well, Iowans are known for that.” She detected a note of sadness in his voice when he added, “Can't believe what this old fool's gone and done.”

“ He must have known we'd target his place sooner or later. He saw us coming.”

“ From the time line you gave me, I'd say your people have moved remarkably fast on this. Don't beat yourself up about it, Doctor, and in the meantime, I'll be in touch. Let you know if anything new develops at this end.”

“ And we'll keep you apprised. Chief. Again, thanks.”

“ Sure… don't mention it.”

Blind alley, Jessica thought, as she hung up the phone.

“ Lew,” Jessica called out, startling Clemmens. “I want to know what all was said at Jimmy Lee's trial.”

“ You mean his appeal?”

“ No, his trial, what? Nine, ten years ago?”

“ A transcript that old may be hard to come by.”

'Tap into our friend in Houston. You said he had some cyber inroads in the system there.”

“ Yeah, I can put him onto the relic stuff, which could be complicated. We can only pray Houston's up to date with scanning that stuff to disk and putting it into electronic files.”

“ Fact is, Houston's one of the leaders in putting old cases onto computer disk. But are you saying it could be inaccessible?”

“ Buried in a hard file or on microfiche someplace, yes. Meantime, I can track down the appeal transcript. It shouldn't be tough to get it electronically. It's a matter of public record. Besides, you'll want both for what you gotta do.”

“ I think it's time we learned a great deal more about Jimmy Lee Purdy,” suggested Sharpe. “Perhaps it will indicate our next move.”

“ Oh, and what's that?” Shannon Keyes joined them. “Are you actually proposing we do a profile on a dead man? Jimmy Lee Purdy?”

“ So far as we know from people around Judge DeCampe, there's no known public pronouncement out of the old man. He was never arrested for so much as disturbing the peace, and he never disrupted the court proceedings,” Sharpe countered. “Suppose the old man's driven by his dead son's motives now?”

Keyes shook her head. “Never a word out of the old man? He has no brain of his own? Whataya want to do, provide him with a defense? My dead son made me do it?”

“ From all we've learned, the elder Purdy never said word one during all the court appearances he made,” said Jessica. “Maybe Richard is onto something here. Stonecoat and Sanger both mentioned that Jimmy Lee was pulling strings from his prison cell.”

“ So… you're supposing that the old man is doing just what his son wanted, fulfilling Jimmy Lee's last wishes?” asked Keyes.

“ Parents are funny that way, yes,” replied Richard. “So perhaps if we understand Jimmy Lee better, then we'll better understand his father Isaiah and his plan and maybe his moves.”

Jessica jumped in, saying, “We've got to understand as much about Jimmy Lee's psyche as possible, then maybe… maybe we'll have some idea what the old man is thinking, and if we can determine what he is thinking then… maybe…”

“ Good strategy,” Keyes finally relented, agreeing. “Let me help you with it.”

“ We need to know about every and any contact whatsoever that either of the Purdys may have had in any way with Judge DeCampe,” said Jessica.

Keyes nodded, a finger playing with the dimple in her chin. “Yes, perhaps something there will give up an overlooked clue.”

“ The sins of the son shall the father inherit,” added Richard. “Kind of a twist on an old theme.”

“ More a reversal,” countered Jessica.

Keyes bit her pouting lower lip and added, “Perhaps you're right, Sharpe, perhaps the son's transgressions can tell us what this old fool is up to.”

“ And maybe where he is?” Richard volunteered. “First we need the transcripts. Lew? What're you stand-ing around for?” asked Jessica. Lew's eyebrows raised in consternation. “On it, Jess.”

J. T. found Jessica still working out of the ops room, looking tired and pale. He brought in fast food from a Chinese restaurant, and as he unpacked the little boxed dinners filled with moo goo gai pan, sweet and sour chicken, beef lo mein, spring rolls, and egg rolls, he informed Jessica that Mars- den's story about euthanizing his dog and flipping out as a result had checked out.

“ I'll be damned.” A wide smile replaced her glum features.

“ He did leave some serious bills and confused people in his wake, but he's not wanted for murder or anything like that, thank God.”

They all had a light laugh over the Marsden story.

“ But Jess, there's something else you need to know.”.

She stared at J. T. “Lay it on me. What is it?”

“ It's about the Claude Lightfoot case.”

“ Go on.”

“ Hosea Crooms, our guy in the field asking all the ques-tions, phoned in.”

“ OK… and what'd Hosea say?” Jessica pictured the enormous black agent.

“ Seems our snitch, the guy who's been feeding us information about the Lightfoot case, is dead… apparent overdose of J amp;B Scotch and quaaludes.”

“ Malcolm McArthur, dead?”

“ One and the same.”

“ Only one who was talking in the whole damned county.”

“ 'Less I miss my guess, someone decided he'd already talked to Hosea long enough.”

“ Murdered?”

“ Yeah, Hosea suspects murder. The scene was a foul mess. It could've been he tore up the place in a drunken stupor like the M.E. wants to believe, but he spilled an awful lot of the J and B.”

“ How many bottles?”

“ M.E. said he consumed three 1.5-liter bottles of the stuff along with enough quaaludes to choke an elephant.”

“ Sons a bitches silenced him.”

“ That'd be my guess.”

The phone rang, and Keyes caught it. “Jessica, it's Iowa calling back.”

“ Put it on the con,” she replied. In a moment, she asked, “Chief Gorman, what news have you?”

“ We got a new wrinkle here, Dr. Coran.”

“ Shoot.” 'Two things, actually. A note left with the wife with a biblical injunction we're all familiar with: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. “We'll want it sent here for analysis, Chief.”

“ Got it.”

“ And the other thing?”

Gorman breathed deeply before speaking.

“ One of my cruisers was sitting atop a For Sale sign, doctor.

A RE/MAX sign. They didn't discover it until they backed off it. Sorry, but that means Purdy unloaded the place before he left.”

“ How long?”

“ The Purdy farm has been sold for a little over a month, according to our local realtor.”

“ He sold the place? Over a month ago?”

“ 'Bout how long the wife has been under the ground, according to our M.E.”

“ Think I'm getting the picture.”

“ You can rest assured we'll check every possible lead here locally. Let you know anything else we uncover as we get it. My guess is the wife's death pulled out some sort of linchpin in the man's head, probably about the time his son was to be executed. Losing both of them at once like that…but then I'll leave that sort of guesswork to the shrinks. Still, I imagine he lit out for Huntsville just after burying his wife and selling the old place.”

“ So he'd been planning this for at least a month, the abduction, all of it.”

“ Appears so, yes.”

“ He must've been disappointed to learn that Judge DeCampe was no longer in Houston,” she replied. “He went there to pick up two pine boxes and one body. He meant to find her and abduct her in Houston.”

“ But he had to detour and delay, come back entirely across the country to D.C. to find her and attack her there.”

Keyes, listening in, said, “The man's a walking textbook definition of obsessive-compulsive behavior.”

“ Stalking with a capital S, yes,” agreed Sharpe, “but it's not for sexual motives.”

Gorman cleared his throat. “Well… seeing as how he sold the place, he never intended using it again, so he will have had to hole up somewhere else. We're going to be on any relatives in the area, you can be certain.”

“ Wait a minute,” Jessica said, a flash of light illuminating the darkness. “We all agree that it stands to reason-given his selling his property-that he planned to abduct DeCampe in Houston, right? And if he had abducted her there, she'd be close to where he picked up his son's remains.”

Richard picked up on her thread. “Which stands to reason he'd then do it here, in or around D.C.”

“ Sounds logical,” said Gorman from Iowa. “Following that logic,” said Keyes, “hell… yes, if he means to bury her with his son, an eye for an eye, then it damn well may be in our own neck of the woods, Jessica. Somewhere in the vicinity of where he abducted her-in the D.C. area.”

“ And all this time we've been digging in the wrong place…” muttered Gorman, sounding disgrunded.

“ Literally diggin' in the wrong place,” added J. T. with a shake of his chopsticks. “What do you do when you need a place to stay, but you don't know the area?” asked Jessica. 'Talk to the locals,” replied Gorman.

“ Yeah… like the local realtors.

You said he sold it through RE/MAX?”

“ Yeah, right, RE/MAX.”

“ Make the max of your real estate with RE/MAX.” She thanked Vigil Gorman and hung up.

J. T. stared at her, knowing her mind was racing. “Whata- ya think, Jess?”

“ I think if you're satisfied with a service provided in Iowa, you're likely to look for the same service provider in the District of Columbia.”

“ RE/MAX?”

“ RE/MAX!”

J. T, picked up another ringing line and after a moment said, “Hey Jess, it's your reporter friend O'Brien on the line.”

“ Not now!”

“ Says he has something pertains to the case.”

Jessica reluctantly took the call. She had to bite her lip to keep from cursing O'Brien out. Reporter O'Brien's story, in which Jessica had been quoted as calling the killer a sexual pervert, had by now made several of the wire services, and it had also traveled the continent and back again via television newscasts.

“ You asshole, O'Brien,” she burst out. “Do you have any idea the light your asinine story has put me in with my superiors?”

“ If you'll stop barking long enough, I have a bone to throw your way, Agent Coran.”

Jessica closed her luminous eyes and willed her anger down. She again bit her lip and fumed a moment in silence, saying nothing in return for now, knowing that if she did, she would explode.

“ Aren't you going to ask what I have?” O'Brien teased, and she pictured his smug, leprechaun grin. All he needed was a green hat and vest.

“ O'Brien, I've been ordered to not speak with the press whatsoever during the duration of the DeCampe Missing Persons case. Do you understand that?”

“ Your boss put a gag order on you?”

“ Do not characterize this as a gag order, and nothing I say to you from now on is for public record unless I say so, O'Brien. Is that clear?”

“ Perhaps not clear but… but it is interesting.” If she could reach through the line, she'd strangle him. She never knew when he was kidding and when he was serious. She wondered if it were an Irish trait. “All right, damnit, what's this bone you're so generously sharing?”

“ It's a doozy-do, believe me! You sitting down?”

“ Spill it or get off the line, O'Brien! I'm working here.”

“ All right, all right… I have a letter purporting to be from the creep that abducted Judge DeCampe postmarked Nokesville, Virginia.” She dared not breathe; she felt stunned, as if slapped. “You what?”

“ You heard me. And I came directly to you with it.”

“ What's it say? No, never mind. I want to see it; it's got to be authenticated.”

“ I think it's authentic, all right.”

“ How can you tell? Does the letter make demands?”

“ Some, yeah, but not a single reference to money.”

“ What kind of demands does he make?”

“ He wants us to retract some of the things we've said about him based on your FBI profile of him.”

“ I didn't give you a profile, O'Brien. I gave you a handful of words. Words that anyone who's read your paper could repeat verbatim. So don't waste my time. Time is a commodity I don't have much of right now.” She thought of how time was running out for Kim Desinor and DeCampe.

“ Jessica, it's him. I know it.”

“ How? How do you know it?”

“ I don't know. You'll just have to take my word for it until you see it yourself. Something… just so right-on chilling about it.”

“ Where is it now?”

“ Under glass in my editor's office. We've made some blowup shots, and we've called in a graphologist to tell us what she can about the handwriting.”

“ What're you guys up to? Trying to do our job for us?”

“ Do you want to see it or not?”

“ We're on our way. Be right there.”

Jessica sent two agents to Nokesville, Virginia, to investigate. Then a wave of fear for Kim washed over her.

Jessica wished she could confer with the psychic FBI detective, realizing that Kim might well get some images from the document if she handled it. Psychometric reading was her specialty. However, in Kim's current condition, she was hardly going to be doing any readings, especially in a public place like a newspaper office.

The others on the team had begun to ask about Kim, and Jessica was running out of excuses. Kim had not been seen by any of them for over twenty-four hours, and there was some notion circulating that she was not well.

“ Is everything all right?” asked Keyes, who had just returned. She stared at Jessica, as if studying her breaking point.

“ It's Dr. Desinor… Kim. She's… she needs me. I'm going to see her before going to see O'Brien.”

“ Sounds to me like you may want someone along,” suggested Keyes. Jessica considered this. “All right, if it suits you.”

“ You told O'Brien that you'd be right over,” J. T. told Jessica.

“ I know what I told O'Brien, but I need to touch base with Kim, and maybe, just maybe,” she said, turning to Keyes, “you can be of help.” She called over to Richard, who was busy following up leads on a telephone, asking, “Will you call O'Brien and tell him we'll be delayed but that we're on our way?”

He replied, “Of course, and I'll meet you there when I get free.”

Outside they found the car that had been assigned to Jessica for her personal use for as long as she remained in D.C. on the case. They climbed in, and Jessica tore off and out of the underground lot, tires barking as if to speak her agitation.

“ What's up?” asked Keyes.

“ The Washington Post claims they have an authentic letter from DeCampe's abductor. However, he makes no ransom demands.”

“ Shit… if only it were about money,” said Shannon. “But I actually meant what's up with Dr. Desinor?”

Jessica had not confided all the details of Kim Desinor's illness to Santiva or anyone other than Richard Sharpe and J. T. Now a twinge of doubt invaded her mind as to Keyes's interest, her motives. Jessica knew that being tired clouded one's judgment, and earlier she had had no such thoughts about Keyes, but now she did. She was unsure why. Some nagging little voice told her to not completely trust Keyes to keep a confidence, so she avoided the question. “Sounds like from what O'Brien said that Purdy wants to know how we dare call him a sex pervert. Meanwhile, we're tracing the letter from its postmark.”

“ Are you intentionally avoiding the question about your friend because I'm a shrink? Trust me, I am only interested in helping, Jessica.”

Jessica asked Keyes point-blank, 'Tell me, Dr. Keyes, did Santiva put you on this case to watchdog me and to report back my team's every move?”

“ That's not entirely true, no, but he did ask me for a special report. You have good instincts, Dr. Coran.”

“ I thought so.”

“ But I'm not spying on you.”

“ Fair enough. Thanks for the honesty.”

“ So how can I help your friend Desinor?” Jessica took in a deep breath of air. “I'm not so sure you can. Not sure any of us can.”

The lights of Washington Memorial Hospital shone in the night sky ahead of them. A siren wail sounded. “Kim's something of an empath, and it takes a terrible toll on her when she does a psychometric reading.”

“ I can only imagine the depth of her feeling.”

“ This case in particular has had a dire effect on her sense of well-being.”

Keyes nodded repeatedly. “Some places in the human psyche no one should go, not even by proxy.”

“ She once told me about the suffering she'd had to endure in Houston, Texas, when she worked the Snatcher case there; the victim was a young boy, who somehow sent out messages-psychic images-of what he was enduring. She received every detail, and it still haunts her to this day. After that, she worked a case with me in Philadelphia, and it took an additional toll on her.”

Keyes sighed heavily and fidgeted in the passenger seat. “And now this.”

“ Now this. I think she may very well be getting images of what's happening to Maureen DeCampe-delayed images.”

“ Or subconsciously blocked images from her earlier reading of the crime scene,” suggested Keyes. “Must be truly difficult for her, indeed.”

“ Difficult isn't the word for it; it's abhorrent to the tenth power. A lesser person, I suspect, it could kill over time.”

“ I suspect you're right.”

Outside the cocoon of the car, the lights of Washington, D.C., gave way to the gloomy darkness of a spiritless gray sky, the blackness seeming to press down around the car they shared. Jessica parked and they hurried toward the doors.

Inside the hospital, Dr. Shoate told Jessica that Kim Desinor was conscious only for short periods of time, and when conscious, she insisted on no visitors other than her fiancee. “She simply wants to die at this point. She doesn't want anything else.”

“ You stay here,” Jessica told Keyes. “If she'll talk to anyone, it'll be me.”

Keyes nodded, frowned, and clasped her hands together. “I'm sure the last thing she needs is an introduction to a stranger who happens to be a psychiatrist.”

“ She's a shrink herself, along with being psychic, so she has a healthy respect for what a good therapist can do, believe me. Once I get to the bottom of this, maybe we can talk introductions, and who knows, maybe she could benefit from seeing you-professionally.”

“ Shrink, heal thyself, you mean?”

“ Something like that.”

“ It's not uncommon that a psychiatrist needs psychiatric care. We're only human, after all.” Jessica left Keyes standing in the hallway outside Kim's door at Intensive Care. Coming out was Detective Alex Sincebaugh of the Baltimore police, Kim's lover and fianc6, who spent every weekend with her when he drove in from Baltimore, where he worked homicide. They'd met in New Orleans, where Sincebaugh had combined on the Heartthrob Murders in the French Quarter. Kim and Jessica had teamed with Sincebaugh to bring an end to the killer's career there.

Sincebaugh had fallen in love with Kim, and he had moved across the country to be close to her. He stared Jessica in the eyes now and said, “I knew you people would kill her one day.”

“ Alex, I'm sorry for what's happening to her as much as you. No one could have foreseen this.”

“ She's literally dying of no apparent cause, but we both know what the cause is, don't we? What the fuck're you people doing about locating and putting an end to this case involving Judge DeCampe?”

She put out a hand to him, but he brushed past, saying, “I've got to call in. Tell them I'm taking time off. I'm going to be with her night and day.” He then rushed away, shaken to the core.

Jessica stepped into the darkened ICU, and seeing the usually vibrant, strong woman reduced to a shell of herself gave Jessica a chill. She went to Kim, whose lesions were covered in bandages, Dr. Shoate using his best elixirs on the continuing decay spots. Shoate whispered now in Jessica's ear that the problem seemed to be arrested at one point, but on further monitoring, this proved false. Nothing seemed to be working.

Kim looked up at Jessica, her eyes blinking. Jessica tearfully said hello.

No answer, only an attempt at a crooked smile.

Jessica wanted to break something. “Kim, we've got to talk. You're scaring me with this bullshit. You've gotta help me here. What the hell am I missing? You've got to pull yourself out of this.”

“ Now that you've seen me again,” Kim croaked out each word separately, “please leave, Jessica. I don't feel up to seeing anyone.”

“ Kim, you're too strong for this, to let this happen. This is ridiculous. Fight back… fight back.”

“ Please, Jess… just go.”

Jessica held firmly to Kim's bandaged hand now. “I wanted to come and reassure you, Kim. We are so close to finding and putting an end to Judge DeCampe's abduction. You are going to be all right, Kim. I'm going to make sure you're all right.”

“ I thank you, Jess, for caring so much.” Her eyes fluttered, and she looked as if she might go back into a sleep. Dr. Shoate checked her vital signs.

“ You're wasting time here,” said Alex Sincebaugh now, in Jessica's ear. “Every minute wasted is a minute that Kim can't afford to lose. Now, go, Dr. Coran, and do your job. Plug into those FBI resources at your beck and call.”

Jessica silently cursed and thought how the considerable resources of the FBI had been put to work, but how little had come of it all. She wanted to pound her fist through a wall. “I've become DeCampe, Jessica,” muttered Kim. “Whatever is going on, wherever she is, she's alive, but she's starving to death and she's decaying.”

More than ever now, Jessica hated the news that had come out of Iowa. Had they found DeCampe's body, it would have been at least closure, and then Kim would be out of this horrid danger as well.

Jessica's cellular phone went off, and she rushed from the room, leaving Alex Sincebaugh, Kim, and Dr. Shoate behind. The call was from Richard, who said, “They really do have something useful over here at the Post, Jessica. You really ought to be here.”

Jessica looked up to see Keyes staring at her as an idea formed in her mind. “What about the power of suggestion? If Kim is told we've located DeCampe alive and we have her in protective custody now, will that help her condition?'

“ It's possible,” replied Keyes.

“ Are you saying that the deception is worth a shot?”

“ Yes, it is.”

“ Anything at this point.”

“ It would appear so, Jessica.”

Jessica returned to Kim's bedside and told her, “That call, Kim… we've located her,” Jessica lied. “Iowa authorities have found a grave site on the old man's property and have recovered her body. It's over.”

Kim took in a deep breath of air. “I want to go home then. Sit out on my porch in my rocker… stare at the stars. Thank God… thank God… now maybe I can heal. No one knows how to treat empathic stigmata like occurrences like this, Jess.”

“ I know.”

“ Dr. Shoate has done all he can. Bless him.”

“ I had hoped he could arrest the physical problem while you dealt with the mental issues. I've called in a psychiatrist, too, Kim, a Dr. Shannon Keyes, to help you with the recuperation process. I won't let you be alone with this.”

Kim somehow managed a weak laugh and said, “You mean friends don't let friends drive themselves to decay? We could call that a new high in friendship.”

Shannon Keyes cautiously joined them as Jessica had asked her to do, and Jessica explained the psychosomatic syndrome that her best friend was suffering under. “Fortressing yourself up and being alone,” Keyes said, “is not going to be as helpful as drawing on others like your friend here for help, Dr. Desinor. Let us help.”

“ Do you two think you can help?”

“ Yes, we do,” Keyes firmly replied. “You'll need a lot of support now that this is over.” As Dr. Shoate was changing the bandage, Shannon Keyes now saw the disfigurement to the right cheek. The sight made Keyes swallow hard; she bit her lower lip to keep from gasping.

Kim had similar bruises and discoloration at each wrist, the abdomen area, the right breast, the ankles, and the knees.

“ How did you locate DeCampe? What was her condition? How alive is she?” asked Kim.

“ DeCampe suffered horribly, just as you. She was de-hydrated, starving, and decaying… decaying-”

“ Alive, decaying alive,” said Kim. “As I said all along. Her killer wanted to watch her decay alive. He somehow managed to cause decay in her where he kept her.”

“ Alive… yeah… alive, and she's going to get well, Kim. Early reports confirm this.”

“ Great… great news.”

“ Now you can put your mind to stopping this thing in you.”

She nodded. “My mind just has to put a stop to this. I have always feared this-that my mind would one day become my worst enemy, that it would in the end destroy me.”

Jessica again saw that her friend was weak, terribly weak. “Now maybe you can keep something down?”

“ Some liquids… nothing solid.”

“ Hell,” joked Jessica, “you've got that on IV.” She pointed to the IV glucose drip.

Kim managed a smile at this. “Maybe some chicken soup.”

“ We've got to go now, Kim, but we'll be back, soon.”

Outside, Jessica began to cry, seeing what a skeleton Kim had become in this short time since the parking garage reading. “She looks so emaciated.”

“ But she was boosted by our story. This could be a turning point for her.”

“ Yeah, until she turns on a TV and learns the truth.”

On the ride to the Washington Post offices, Jessica and Shannon were made aware of just how far along Kim Desinor' s “psychic” wounds were, as the smell of decay filled the automobile. It had attached itself to them, to their clothes, and they simultaneously began wiping their noses, when Jessica said, “My God, what if Desinor is right about what's going on with DeCampe? That she is literally being killed via decay?”

“ I can't begin to imagine such a horrid death.”