The Tower

by Gregg Hurwitz

  Leah ran screaming into the room and pulled the tape from her hair, not even noticing the sting as it yanked a clump from its roots. She fell on top of Robbie and stuck the tape over his eyes. The scream kept coming, “DON’T BE SCARED, ROBBIE! JUST DON’T LOOK! DON’T LOOK!”

  Then she ran back down the hallway, closing her eyes when she again passed the room in which her parents lay. Feeling the rest of the way with her hands, she reached the kitchen and called 911.

  It was quiet and the dimmed green lamps glowed across the dark wooden bookcases. The occasional clicking of footsteps was all that interrupted the perfect silence of the Josephine Public Library.

  Allander’s book list was set evenly in a black folder. Jade pulled it out, placed it on the big oak desk, and reviewed it again. He was amazed by its contents. Though the Tower restricted reading, Allander had checked out an incredible range of books during his time at Maingate proper. Library resources were unlimited at the main prison; officials even borrowed books from local libraries if the prisoners requested them.

  It seemed Allander had read everything: Victorian literature, biographies of composers, art theory, legal journals, historical analyses. He had also read a number of computer journals, Jade noted. Even from within prison, Allander was trying to keep up with modern technology, probably so he could be self-sufficient if he ever escaped.

  He scanned the rest of the list, his finger running down the page. One author’s name appeared over and over: Sigmund Freud.

  At first he didn’t think it was so unusual; the study of psychology was encouraged because of Maingate’s association with the Ressler Institute. But as Jade glanced down the page, he realized that Allander must have read Freud’s entire canon. The materials by and about Freud far outnumbered those of any other author.

  Lacking a familiarity with some of the works listed, Jade asked the librarian for help. “I need a brushup on Freud. I’ve read him before, but I was hoping I could get something like a summary.”

  “I should recommend a reader,” the librarian said. “Peter Gay edited one. He’s fantastic on biography and—”

  “Peter Gay. Good.” Jade turned and left.

  He found the suggested reader after spending a few minutes poking around the dusty shelves. He also grabbed Introductory Lectures on Psycho-Analysis. He settled into an armchair by a window and didn’t move for an hour and a half as he leafed through the books.

  Much of Allander’s recorded interview came into focus as Jade read. One piece of the puzzle fell into place almost immediately. The first footnote he came across stated that Freud’s given names were Sigismund Schlomo. Freud was the “Doctor Schlomo” Allander had spoken of on the tape. He had been taunting his psychologist, daring him to discover the hidden clues.

  Jade had already recognized some of Allander’s language as Freudian, but now he uncovered more of its meaning. For example, Allander had expressed disdain for sublimation. “What I carve, I’ll carve in flesh. What I write, I’ll write in blood,” he had said. He felt that his art was reality; by his art, he meant his violence. Instead of sublimating his violent tendencies into something productive or healthy, he prided himself on acting them out. While others distracted themselves with fantasies, he alone indulged his true self. His way was more real, he thought, more courageous.

  So what was it he admitted? What did he need or want to act out?

  On the tapes, Allander had talked about something that’s “there in every little boy.” The Oedipal complex? The complex, like the myth, was certainly filled with sexual violence.

  Jade jotted notes down on a pad. He’d have to run a lot of this by a psychologist when he got a chance. Setting down his notes, Jade stood up and cracked his back all the way up from the base. He stretched his arms over his head as he walked back to the front desk.

  “Where’s a phone?” he asked the librarian.

  “There isn’t a public phone in the building,” the man replied, folding his thin arms across his chest.

  Jade looked down over the counter at the white phone in front of him. He pointed at it.

  “I’m sorry. No public use.”

  Jade flipped his badge open as he reached across the counter and grabbed the phone. “Yeah, well I’m not the public.”

  “Goddamnit! Where is he? Why hasn’t he checked in?” Travers circled the conference room, eyeing the telephone that sat silently on the middle of the table.

  McGuire looked over at her. “He said something about going to the library.”

  “Well, that’s helpful. We’re knee deep in shit and he’s off reading books.”

  McGuire raised a finger. “I told you, we need to cooperate,” he said sternly. He grabbed his briefcase and checked his watch. “You keep an eye out. I gotta run home. The boys have a baseball game.”

  He walked out of the room, then stuck his head back through the doorway. “As soon as you hear from him, I want him to go over to the crime scene to see those kids.”

  “I know, I know,” Travers yelled down the hall after McGuire. “He needs to—”

  The telephone rang, the shrill sound echoing off the walls.

  Travers grabbed it before the first ring ended. “Marlow, where’ve you been?!”

  “I missed you, too, Agent Travers. Where’s McGuire?”

  “Actually, he’s at his kids’ baseball game. Think you can lower yourself to talk to me?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Well, while you were out, Atlasia committed two more murders and held two children captive.”

  “Fuck! You got him?” Jade grimaced at the thought of missing out on the capture.

  “Glad to see your priorities are in place,” Travers said sarcastically. “No, we didn’t get him. He tied up a little girl. She freed herself to call nine-one-one after he left.”

  “He tied her?” Jade sounded surprised.

  “Well, he taped her,” Travers replied.

  Jade pushed his hair out of his eyes as he adjusted the phone on his shoulder. “Yeah, that figures. He was tied himself. He wouldn’t re-create that experience. Not with the same constraint. He’d adapt it and make it his own.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Nothing. Where’s the hospital? I’m there first, then I’ll check the scene.”

  “St. Mary’s. And Jade these kids are traumat—”

  Travers heard the dial tone and let her breath out in a hot rush. She had to get over to St. Mary’s to protect the children from Jade.

  27

  JADE drove his car onto the curb directly in front of the hospital’s lobby entrance. As he stormed through the sliding glass doors, he flashed his badge and shouted at the lady in the reception booth, “If you tow that car, I’ll arrest you.” A silence fell over the lobby and lingered even after the elevator doors had closed behind him.

  The trauma unit was on the second floor. Jade had been there many times before to interview witnesses and suspects, so he knew the drill. The first person who tried to stop him was the woman at the front desk, but she was new on the job, and not quite clear on patients’ legal rights.

  Jade faced her, slamming his badge down on the counter. He leaned forward on both hands, his eyes focused on hers. “I need to see a kid who got brought in here this morning from the hostage situation. Immediately.”

  The woman cleared her throat nervously, her hand hovering in front of her nose. Jade knew he had her.

  “I’m sorry, visiting hours are—”

  “I’m not a visitor, I’m an FBI agent. And I need to talk to this child immediately. We need her in order to apprehend a murderer and child molester. Unless you want to be personally responsible for wasting my time while this suspect flees, Ms.”—his emerald eyes lowered to her name tag—“Doren, then I suggest you don’t jerk me off any longer and tell me the room number.”

  She gasped. “Well … I … There’s two … children. A little boy—but he’s in deep posttraumatic shock and not speaking. The girl i
s eleven.” She paused and her eyes flicked around nervously to locate her superiors. Finding nobody to bail her out, she surrendered. “She’s in room two-twelve.”

  Jade was gone, running down the corridor. Ms. Doren stood up abruptly, knocking over a pencil holder. The pencils rolled across her desk and fell to the floor, chattering like rainfall.

  “She’s very fragile right now,” she called after him. “You can’t just—”

  Realizing that Jade was not listening, she sank back into her chair and paged a physician.

  When the door to her room flew open, Leah sat up in bed, drawing the blanket protectively around her chest and up under her chin. Her eyes regarded Jade with fear and suspicion. She was shaking violently.

  “It’s all right. It’s fine. I’m on your side.” Jade flipped out his badge and flashed it at her. Crossing to her bed, he stood over her for a moment, then gripped her shoulders firmly. She continued to shiver.

  “Don’t be afraid. I need to know what happened.”

  Her bottom lip quivered, and tears began to roll down her cheeks.

  Jade let go of her shoulders and sat on the edge of the bed, swearing softly.

  A team of doctors burst into the room, knocking the charts from the back of the door. The largest doctor stepped forward. He wore wire-frame glasses and had a decent physique. The other doctors crowded behind him.

  “Who are you, the intimidation factor?”

  “I’m Dr. Levinson. I’m going to have to ask you to leave the room immediately or I’ll call security.”

  “Now maybe they lied to me in training, but I always thought the FBI took precedence over the security team at St. Mary’s. And I’d suggest you stand back a little. I don’t like your posture.”

  The doctor stepped back. “Sir, you cannot be in here right now. This patient has just undergone a horrible experience. The last thing she needs is offensive external stimuli.”

  “I haven’t even begun to get offensive,” Jade said. “But try me.”

  The doctor shook his head nervously. “Not that kind of … that’s not what I meant.” He paused, assessing the situation, trying to figure out the best tactic to follow.

  Jade ran his thumb across his lip. “Look, Dr. Levinwhatever. I’m pursuing the most dangerous—”

  “Sir, look at the girl.”

  Jade looked over at her. The tears were flowing, and her face was swollen. He noticed the red marks around her wrist, the only part of her body exposed from under the blanket. His breath started to come harder as he felt the anger flooding his veins.

  “Please,” Dr. Levinson said.

  The door opened behind them and Travers pushed her way through the team of white coats cowering behind Dr. Levinson. Leah began to sob.

  Travers’s badge hung from the pocket of her white blouse, and her blonde hair was down across her shoulders. She was dressed more femininely than Jade had seen her before. She saw Leah and her jaw tightened. “Marlow. Outside. Now.”

  Jade looked at the doctors and then at Travers. He could tell she was somewhere between livid and incensed. Impressive. He opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind. Quietly, he got up and followed her out of the room.

  The minute they turned the corner, Travers spun to face Jade, pressing her finger into his chest.

  “Did you see that girl, Marlow? You scared the shit out of her. Your tactics are fine for harassing adult suspects, but they don’t work on small children who are victims. VICTIMS! This girl found both her parents dead.”

  Jade’s jaw shifted over and he bit his cheek. “First of all, take your finger off me. Second, you didn’t tell me her parents got iced. I would have been more—”

  “More what?! Like you can be more anything. The doctors are furious, the girl is probably too scared to talk now. Great piece of work, Marlow.”

  She was right. He should have proceeded more gently if he wanted to get the kid to talk, and he knew it. She unbuttoned the top of her shirt and pulled it in the back so it shifted on her shoulders. “Well, I’m handling this now. I’ll deal with the girl. What do you need me to ask her?”

  She unbuttoned her cuffs and rolled her sleeves up, then took her badge from her shirt pocket and slid it in her back pants pocket.

  Jade paused for a minute, then answered very seriously. “I need to know how they responded. The kids. What they said. And ask her if … ask her if he explained what he was doing as he did it. If he gave them any insight into his rationale. He’d want to, I think. He’d want them to know, to understand.”

  The rage behind Travers’s eyes subsided. She nodded and turned to go, but Jade caught her arm.

  “You look good,” he said.

  “Well, thank you, Jade,” she said sarcastically. “That’s what I’m here for.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I mean you look good. Maternal and caring. Perfect for the kid. Smart move.”

  “Oh. Thanks. I try to go for that Nancy Reagan look.” She turned and walked away.

  28

  ONCE he was safely past the roadblock, Allander removed the bathrobe and nightgown and peeled off the beauty mask. Underneath, he still wore the comfortable blue silk shirt and loose pants. After taking out the curlers and applying a generous amount of gel, he parted his hair to one side and slicked it back neatly over his ears. Big sunglasses covered his eyes, and he had pushed cotton balls into his cheeks and under his lips to change the shape of his face.

  Having already taken care of an important stop that he had planned, he relaxed and hummed along with the classical music pouring from the car’s topnotch speakers. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, allowing himself to enjoy the simple perfection of a Mozart symphony.

  A green sign appeared over the highway just ahead of him, announcing the next exits. It was followed by a smaller blue sign with crude symbols for food and transportation. Having still not fully adjusted to driving again, he gripped the steering wheel tightly as he put on his blinker and cautiously pulled over, exiting the freeway. He passed a Greyhound station and found a deserted factory several blocks from the main road.

  He slid open the rusty gate, leaving the car humming. The gate’s lock had been smashed open already and it hung from the fence. Allander inched the Mercedes through the gate, pulling up in an alley between a warehouse and an old building. He climbed in the backseat and curled up on the fine leather, content to pass the night planning and dozing.

  The house was crawling with agents by the time Jade got there. He wandered through it, thinking that only hours earlier Allander himself had walked through these very rooms, had seen the same table, the same flower arrangement, had probably gone to the bathroom here and eaten from the refrigerator.

  So close in time, so far away. Allander’s presence still hung about the house the way a man’s shape fills a shirt after it’s been worn. Jade could sense him, sense that he had been here, and he walked around the house as if in a trance, feeling the walls and floor.

  When Travers arrived a half hour later, Jade ignored her. He didn’t have time for distraction until he’d made his first complete pass through. The other officers weren’t sure what to make of him, but Jade hardly noticed their presence. He was alone in the house with the scent of Allander.

  The door to Leah’s room was slightly ajar, and Jade rested his forearm on the frame as he gazed in. The letters of her name on the wall made him smile. Allander would have appreciated them.

  The bed was still wet with urine, and Jade crossed the room heavily and looked at the stain, a dark mass spread across the soft pink comforter. He touched it absentmindedly, gazing around the room.

  Jade closed his eyes and imagined Allander’s approach to the house in the early light of morning. The ground was cold under his bare feet. He rang the doorbell and waited. He heard approaching footsteps. His stomach was nervous but excited. The footsteps stopped and he leaned forward, driving an instrument through the peephole. He pushed the door open and it stopped when it hit the man’s
body. The body slid as he opened the door the rest of the way. He stepped over the corpse and he was inside. What was he thinking? Was he imagining the feel of children’s skin against his fingertips? Was he nervous at the likelihood that there was a woman in the house?

  An agent with a clipboard bumped Jade as he passed and Jade spun around, startled. The agent saw Jade’s wild eyes and backed around the corner, mumbling an apology. Jade turned back to study the letters on the wall.

  These killings were his worst fears confirmed. Allander had spent his years in jail developing an elaborate fantasy, and these deaths were the result. This was not an immature murder. Younger, inexperienced killers start with older women, prostitutes, or kids. Easy to target, easy to isolate, easy to dominate. That’s where Allander had been when he’d first gone to jail at the age of eighteen. But he had matured since then, Jade thought. Matured into a master killer.

  His feet sank in the thick carpet as he made his way back to the living room. He noticed two brown lines on the love seat, edges of foot marks. The bloody letters remained on the window. The woman’s body lay crookedly beside the man’s, her stomach open in a bloody gash. Jade heard Thomas’s words rolling around in his head: One foot still in the womb, so to speak.

  He mumbled to himself and wandered back into the foyer. The other agents looked at him expectantly.

  “You. What’s your name?” Jade asked, pointing at one of the younger agents.

  “Daniel Harris,” he said nervously. After a short pause, he added, “Dan.”

  “I figured. Check for the toolbox. See if there’s a hammer missing.”

  “Where would it be?” he asked.

  “You’re an FBI agent. Figure it out. Start with the garage.”

  Dan looked angrily at his colleagues before leaving the room.

  Travers walked in from the back bedroom. “Still working on those people skills, Marlow?”