“Where the fuck were you?” I croaked.
Baker tried to get me to my feet but my muscles were locked so tight from the Taser hits I couldn’t stand on my own. It took some time for feeling to return to my arms and legs. LeMaster slowly made his way to my leather chair. He looked at the syringe on the floor, the overturned vial of China White, the cooked soda can, and the rubber tubing Baker had taken from my bicep and thrown on the desk.
LeMaster said, “After all he’s done, you’re telling us not to hurt him?”
I shrugged, feeling light-headed. I tried to regain control of my breathing. “What took you so damn long? You were supposed to take him down long before it got this far.”
LeMaster picked a miniscule fiber of lint off his suit and looked at his partner.
Baker said, “Broken transmission on the SWAT van. Called for Clayton officer presence until we arrived, but the rookie went to the wrong building. Good thing you made your confession to us earlier, but you should have allowed one of us to be in the office instead of having ears only on you. Hard to follow the sheep and catch the wolf sometimes.”
“You were supposed to be outside.”
Baker said, “Was a perfect shitstorm of fuck ups. Sorry, my man.”
Hair matted to my forehead, my arms began to sting as the feeling returned to them. I looked down at the priest, face down on the carpet. “I had him under control.”
LeMaster rolled his eyes.
“If I had use of my arms right now, I’d punch you both. You first, LeMaster.”
“I’d give you the first one,” Baker said.
“Help me to the bathroom.”
He sniffed the air, smiling. “That your shirt smoking?”
“The latest fad. Caliente is the brand.”
By now a small army of people had entered the scene; a bevy of forensic techs and a police photographer. LeMaster shook his head. “You’re part of a crime scene. This was kidnapping and attempted murder. Everything by the book. First we take pictures of you in your disabled state and inventory his weapons to prove he could carry out his plan. We caught him, now we have to make sure we can make the charges stick.”
“We caught him?” I groaned. “I really have to pee.”
“He should have taped your mouth. Sit.” LeMaster said as he brought the photographer for quick pictures. He shook his head and a hint of smile appeared.
“Ah, now we’re buddies? I don’t think so.”
“That’s it,” LeMaster called over his shoulder. “Anybody got a roll of duct tape?”
While LeMaster helped me to the chair and lightly reaffixed the tape, I watched Detective Baker manhandle Father James off the carpet with one hand and Mirandize him. Baker got nose to nose with him and said, “You a rapist, murderer, and a Catholic priest? My momma and auntie go to mass every Sunday. You lucky they not here right now cause they would kick yo’ ass back to me-dee-E-VIL times, but we got somethin’ almos’ as bad. The brothers in lockup got a thing about rapists. Some of them know people been diddled by priests. Some of them been diddled by priests themselves. You gonna learn what vengeance feels like—”
“He’s had plenty of that, Detective,” I said.
Now I’m shielding him from Baker’s anger. Amazing.
He ignored me and kept his cold glare on the fallen priest. “Go ahead. Say those four little words I know you itchin’ to say,” Baker said.
The frightened little boy was gone. Father James now stood toe to toe with Baker. “I want my attorney.”
Baker grinned and said, “You a fast learner. He better be fuckin’ Johnny Cochran, F. Lee Bailey, and Perry Mason all rolled into one.” He grabbed him by the shirt, tossed him to a uniformed officer and said, “Get this piece of monkey shit off Dr. Adam’s carpet.”
Baker saw the look of concern on my face and said to me, “What? Want me to dial it down? Too over the top, too black?”
Father James kept his vulture eyes on me and said, “First round goes to you, on points. We are not done here.” Two cops escorted him from my office to a waiting squad car below.
“What? You think I hurt his feelings?” Baker said.
“I helped him recall his childhood. Prison can’t be worse.”
Baker looked puzzled.
“Listen to the tape.”
He looked more confused.
I’d fantasized so much about what I’d do to the man who killed Kris that I was becoming someone else. Now I felt sorry for us both.
I fixed a blank stare on the photo technician. It felt like a mug shot. I took the Dictaphone from my pocket, turned it off, and handed it to Baker.
“It’s all here. He told me to empty my pockets, not turn them inside out. So I gave him what he expected, my wallet and change. I turned on my Dictaphone and left it in my pocket. Maybe you’ll understand why I wanted you to ease up on him after you listen to it.”
If you figure it out, maybe you can explain it to The Stranger.
Baker and LeMaster sat down with the Dictaphone while I staggered to the bathroom, peed like a racehorse, and splashed water on my face. My hands still shook and my head throbbed, but a little less. The armpits of my shirt were soaked through. I checked the vein in my arm to make sure there were no puncture marks and cleaned the marks and burns on my chest. My arms felt like they were bleeding. The gravity of what happened hit me all at once. The walls closed in. I rode out a series of dry heaves.
The phones in the outer offices, except my ripped out one, were flashing nonstop, for who knows how long. As police and forensic people moved in and out of the offices, I was surprised to learn that Marilyn and Gus were in the hallway at this late hour, badgering the cops for information. I smiled at the sound of Marilyn’s shrill voice and the cops growing impatience with her. One threatened to cuff and haul her to jail if she didn’t shut up. I shouted to them that I was okay and would see them after the police had finished with me. Marilyn couldn’t enter the office earlier in the evening for her client’s appointment due to the chair blocking the outer door and, dedicated therapist that she is, found another office in the building that offered privacy for her client and they had their session. Then she set about to the mystery of the door that wouldn’t open and paged Gus, who was on-call that evening. Once Marilyn sets about to fixing something, she doesn’t quit until it’s fixed and she protects the office and her work like a mother bear with her cubs.
While the rest of the police unit examined, scraped, lifted, collected, dusted, and photographed the crime scene from every possible angle, LeMaster and Baker took my statement in one of the adjacent offices.
LeMaster handed me a cup of coffee and said, “Good thing you called earlier to tell us about the phone calls and the tie. I could tell how hard it was for you to admit you withheld evidence for so long. You should have told us sooner so we could have been more organized. If you hadn’t called at all, though, you would be dead or on your way to jail.”
I put the cup down because I don’t drink coffee. “I almost died because you were late.” I was glad I wasn’t in the throes of a heroin overdose or thrown through my ninth floor picture window, but I’d have been more grateful if LeMaster and Baker had been on time. I never anticipated a Taser Velcroed to the inside of an umbrella. “I’d already made the appointments with my three suspects. I couldn’t back out to buy you time. That would have tipped off the killer. Was Father James ever a suspect for you?”
LeMaster took my coffee and shrugged. “We weren’t aware of a connection between Miss Gray and the priest. We wanted to question the ex-husband but never found him. We were about to arrest you for murder.”
“Why today?”
“The preliminary DNA report on that pubic hair. Came back a highly probable match.”
“But she was my girlfriend.” My voice cracked. That simple word—was—threatened to overwhelm me.
Baker handed me a bottle of water. “We had the world of circumstantials against you. I noticed the tie you wore at the studio was the one around her neck….”
“But?”
“Some things didn’t add up. Anonymous calls pointing to you. They were too convenient, too neatly packaged.”
LeMaster rewound the tape and played the first few minutes as we sat and listened. He looked up at me. “I was convinced you were guilty—”
“I didn’t like it. The calls were untraceable,” Baker said. “From phone booths and prepaid cell phones. My gut told me the killer was callin’ us, framin’ you. Now we compare voices. You weren’t the type to kill his girlfriend and leave trails Stevie Wonder could follow. Not without leaving yourself a solid alibi.”
I stood up, less wobbly this time, and said, “We caught the bad guy. All’s well that ends well.”
LeMaster cleared his throat and said to me, “Not so fast, Dr. We didn’t listen to the whole tape, but we heard enough. You knew about the Gemini symbol. You knew how the body was posed. How?”
Busted. I was so close.
Tony risked his job to get me access to the file. Improvise. Once I knew what the folder looked like, I knew I had seen it earlier. “When you escorted me to the station for my samples, the desk officer called you away. The file was on your desk. I looked at it then,” I said. Why start telling the truth now?
LeMaster eyeballed me with disbelief. “Seeing those pictures would have been traumatic. You weren’t fazed at all when we returned.”
I met his gaze. “I can keep things bottled up when I need to. It’s a therapy trick.” One I just invented.
“Why don’t I believe you? You must be quite the speed reader, we were gone a minute, two at the most. You and our police psychologist are thick as thieves. Did Tony Martin have a hand in this?”
Less is more when you lie. Creating a diversion helps, too.
I shook my head. “No, but I can help you solve another crime. I know where to find Steven Gray. You still want to question him. Trust me.”
LeMaster braced himself and kept his eyes on me. “Fine, I’ll bite. Why?”
“He’s living in seclusion at Warren Green’s Frontenac estate, on Green’s payroll, conducting research involving the development and sale of some sort of biochemical weapon that, when entered into a country’s water supply, causes permanent sterility in women. Green may have recently brokered a deal with a foreign military power. There may not be much time to prevent this weapon from being used in the field, maybe even against a civilian population.”
“Who’s your source?”
I said nothing.
They looked at me, incredulous. LeMaster’s mouth hung open. “I’m not going to like the answer or you’re not at liberty to tell me, right?”
I nodded. “Door number two. I’m ethically and morally obligated to tell you what I’ve learned, but I can’t reveal my source. Pressure Steven Gray and he’ll roll over on Green in exchange for immunity and the chance for a fresh start.”
LeMaster looked at his watch and dialed a number on his phone as he started walking down the hall.
Once LeMaster left, Baker grinned and extended his massive right arm for a fist bump. “You were one Cool Breeze alone in here with that whack job.”
“Thanks.”
He chuckled softly and said, “Shit, brother. You look like twenty miles of bad road. You need medical attention?”
“I’m okay.” I double-checked—again—the vein in my arm to make sure Father James’s needle hadn’t punctured the skin.
The toothpick quickly moved to the other side of his mouth and Baker said, “Pretty slick, you changin’ the subject from the Voice. Wave the carrot of another big collar in my ambitious partner’s face and he chases it like a draft horse hooked behind a plow.”
I said nothing, repressing a smile.
He grinned and said, “Your secret’s safe. You helped us get a psycho off the streets and now maybe some high roller assholes. So, whatcha got on this uppity doctor who mixes and barters the plague from his fancy west county mansion?”
I walked between the forensic techs as they gathered their equipment, preparing to leave, found the cassette I recorded while hiding in the trough of Green’s converted stable and handed it to Baker. I told him what it contained and admitted my trespassing. I had an ethical decision to make next and decided to condense what Wolf told me in session about the chemical weapons deal, without releasing his name. I did this to save lives, possibly generations of them. If the cops connected Wolf Paxton to Warren Green, they have to do so by their own police work. I’m mandated by my Code of Ethics to go to jail rather than surrender Paxton’s name or confidential treatment history. Green’s the driving force behind the research and development of the bioweapon, and he’s the one who must be stopped. Wolf is merely an investor and lackey. Nonetheless, I anticipated some restless nights for telling the cops what I knew.
Baker scowled. “Doubt we can use this in court, but now we know some of the players and where they at, we turn over a rock or two and see what scurries away from the light. Then we turn the screws.”
“I know how that feels.”
Baker grinned and said, “Shit, we didn’t cuff you or throw you in a holding cell downtown. You only got the one barrel, Doc.”
“Thanks for going easy on me,” I lied.
“How the hell you hypnotize that crazy dude who was hell bent on destroyin’ you, then convince him to let you go? I thought no one could be made to do somethin’ they don’ wanna do under hypnosis.”
“It fit his comfort zone. He had me under his thumb. Part of him longed to remember the motivation behind his behavior. His delusional rage was coming from his subconscious. Abusers were often victims of sexual abuse as children. Abused kids often repress gruesome memories for years as a way to cope with a chaotic and dangerous environment.”
“How many years you been doing this hypnotic voodoo shit on your clients,” Baker asked.
I looked at him and said, “That’s only the third time I’ve ever tried to use a hypnotic induction on a client.” And only the second time it worked. I was suddenly cold and clammy. “Thanks for getting here when you did.”
“Happy to. That’s the cool part of the job, watchin’ their faces when they know it’s all over.” He shook his head and added, “Weird takin’ down a priest for murder, it’s usually pederasty and even then it’s not often we get our hands on ’em. The church takes care of its own, alright. Times like this make me wish there’s a hell.”
“He grew up in hell. He needs to be in a place now where he can’t hurt innocent people.”
“Amen to that, brother. He gonna lawyer up and cop an insanity plea.”
“He needs help. A forensic psych hospital may be the best place for him, and they can study him. He’s educated and physically healthy. We should find a way to use him rather than warehouse him in a cell or execute him.” Said the man who wanted to kill him earlier.
LeMaster remained engaged in an animated conversation on his cell phone, but soon motioned Baker to join him.
Baker shifted the toothpick in his mouth a final time and said, “We gonna need you to come to the station, get your complete and signed statement on record. We better get a move on, that gonna take some time. You the man, Cool Breeze.”
In the lobby, Gus the elderly security guard saw me and pushed his way through the crowd. He called my name and waved me over. Then he said, “Was that young man who just left able to talk to you?”
I looked at Gus, confused. “Who?”
“He didn’t tell me his name. In his thirties, maybe forties, I’m not good with ages anymore cuz everyone’s younger than me. He had a thin build and wore a baseball cap low over his eyes. He paced by the elevators and, you know me, I went over to chat, help pass the time. Young fellow didn’t like chit-chat; he kept looking at his watch like he wanted to leave but couldn’t. I thought he might be one of your patients who got scared off by the excitement.”
“Why do you think he was my client?”
“After SWAT entered, he asked if you were okay. I said I think so, and he left in a hurry.”
“Thanks, Gus. You remember anything else about him, call me on my cell. I don’t care what time it is, call.”
His concerned look seemed to ask if everything was still okay. “I will, Mitch.”
Outside the front door to my office building, a large crowd pressed up against police barricades along the street, a buzz ran through the throng after a handcuffed Father James was escorted and helped into the back of a police cruiser near the SWAT van. People pointed as Baker and LeMaster escorted me to their unmarked car, most likely wondering what I was in custody for. As we walked past the barricades, rumors ran through the crowd about a hostage situation inside and dead bodies.
It was after four in the morning when they finished with me. Baker drove me back to Clayton for my car. I was so drained I was slap happy. “How’d you get that scar?” I asked.
“What scar?” Baker said and winked at me as he dropped me off at my red Solstice, the last car left in underground parking. “Get some sleep, Cool Breeze,” he called to me over his shoulder. His grin revealed the shiny gold tooth again. “We heroes now.”