“The CIA, other intelligence agencies, but that wouldn’t be unusual. The CIA funds many such places, some within leading universities and hospitals. Lightpath, I’m told, is run by Sheldon Borger.”
“He is…?”
“A controversial psychiatrist in San Francisco, very rich, with lots of rich patients, handsome, very smooth, lots of white teeth. He was an OB-GYN before becoming a shrink. I met him once at a talk he gave here in D.C. hosted by a right-wing think tank.”
“What did he talk about?”
“The threat to the country by other nations and how the medical profession, particularly psychiatry, could help in the fight.”
“How could they help in the fight?” Smith asked.
“I don’t recall much of what he said. I tuned out halfway through the lecture.”
“Do you think that Sheila saw him when she went with Sedgwick to San Francisco? Your limo company contact told you that Sedgwick had a female companion with him during the four rides to Berkeley.”
“I can’t imagine why she would have accompanied him to that clinic. It’s something I’d like to find out.”
“Think you can?” Smith asked. “She denies even going to San Francisco.”
“I’ll give it my best shot. You’ll have to put in a formal request to MPD to have me examine her.”
“First thing in the morning.”
“Does Sheila have any children?” Tatum asked as he and Mac waited for the elevator.
“I don’t think so. I know that she was divorced and worked at GW. Left with a disability.”
“What disability?”
“I’ll find out. She and Annabel were somewhat friendly. She might know, or I can check at the school.”
The elevator arrived, but Tatum hesitated stepping in. Smith cocked his head.
“I’ve got a feeling, Mac, that we haven’t even begun to scratch the surface with Sheila Klaus.”
He entered the elevator and Smith watched the doors slowly slide shut, Tatum’s words staying with him.
CHAPTER
20
Mac Smith met with Marie Darrow the following morning and brought her up to speed. Darrow was a short, square, curly-haired woman who seldom dressed in anything other than black suits too tight for her frame. Smith respected her intellect and ability to cut to the chase. Anything other than a concise, on-the-topic response to her questions wasn’t appreciated.
“A diminished capacity defense based upon multiple personalities?” she said after Smith had covered everything he’d written on a yellow legal pad.
“At this point, Marie, it’s the only defense.”
“It’ll never play for a D.C. jury, not under the ALI standard.”
She was referring to a standard of legal insanity designed by the American Law Institute and adopted by the District of Columbia in the 1960s, which basically decreed that defendants must have a substantial incapacity to appreciate the criminality of their conduct, or to conform their conduct to the law. It also demanded that the mental disease or defect be a medical diagnosis.
“Besides,” she added, “the whole multiple personality thing is too science fiction. Mind control? There aren’t a dozen people in the District who’ll buy it, unless the defendant is a congressman. We all know that their minds are controlled by lobbyists.”
Smith laughed. “You can use that in your opening statement.”
Darrow played with an errant curl on her forehead. “Think she’ll buy me as her counsel?”
“If she doesn’t, it’s not because of you. When I was with her yesterday, she kept saying she doesn’t need a lawyer because she hasn’t done anything.”
“Despite the evidence?”
A nod from Smith. “I laid out for her what the evidence is so far. You’re meeting her at two?”
“Right.”
“Nic Tatum is with her now.”
“Tell me more about this guy Tatum.”
“As I said, he’s a psychologist and friend. He was with MPD for a few years, now practices solo. He knows medical hypnosis inside and out.”
“And he’s the one who’s come up with the multiple personality theory.”
“Right.”
“We’ll need shrinks with bigger and better credentials than that.”
“Never a problem finding shrinks who’ll testify if the fee is high enough.”
“Dueling shrinks on the witness stand,” Darrow said scornfully. “I love it. There’s plenty of them who’ll debunk the whole multiple personality and mind control notion.”
She was right, of course, but Smith didn’t see anything to be gained by discussing it further. “Tatum will be contacting me once he’s finished with Sheila,” he said. “I’ll let you know what he says before you meet with her this afternoon.”
* * *
Smith had arranged for Tatum to spend an hour with Sheila Klaus. Tatum was in the interrogation room when she was brought in by a male officer and a matron. Tatum had requested and was given a room without two-way glass, or audio- and video-recording equipment. He’d also asked for two comfortable chairs which, after an initial denial, were removed from a reception area and delivered.
Sheila looked totally confused. Dressed in prison garb, she was frail, her eyes red from crying.
“Would you like me to stay?” the matron asked.
“That won’t be necessary,” Tatum said, “but thank you.”
“We’ll be right outside,” the matron said ominously.
“Please, have a seat,” Tatum told Sheila.
She hesitated, as though to take the chair would in some way render her vulnerable.
“There’s nothing to fear,” Tatum said. “I’m Dr. Tatum, Nicholas Tatum. We’ve met a few times.”
“I know,” she said as she perched on the edge of the seat.
“I’m working with Mac Smith. He spent time with you yesterday.”
She didn’t respond.
“The reason I’m with you today, Sheila, is to try and understand you and the situation you’re facing.”
She burst into tears. Tatum handed her a tissue and waited until her tears had subsided.
“The first time we met, I was with detectives who came to your house. I used to be with MPD, but I left years ago. I’m here now to help you.”
“But why am I here?” she said, leaning forward. Tatum thought she might slip off the chair. “They keep saying I killed Dr. Sedgwick. That isn’t true.” She stood and shouted, “That isn’t true!”
Tatum got up and placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right, Sheila. I believe you.”
That simple statement caused her to look at him with wide-open eyes. “You do?” she said.
“Sit down, Sheila, and let me ask you a few questions that might help get to the bottom of this. One of the problems is that the police have evidence that you took trips with Dr. Sedgwick to San Francisco and—”
“No, I did not.”
“You don’t remember ever going there with him?”
She shook her head. “He was a nice man. He was my doctor. But they make it sound as though we were having an affair. That wasn’t true. We never…”
She’d become agitated again, and Tatum gave her time to calm down before continuing.
“Have you ever been hypnotized, Sheila?” he asked.
She looked at him quizzically. “Of course not. I can’t be.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because … because—”
“Hypnosis is a good thing,” he said. “I use it in my practice to help people feel better, to remember things they sometimes forget. I know that you can’t be hypnotized, but would you allow me to try?”
“Why are we doing this?” she asked.
“Can I try? It will help you relax.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He took a small makeup mirror he’d had on his lap and held it up to her face.
“No,” she said.
“I just want you to look in the mirror, Sh
eila, and concentrate. You’re relaxed and calm and enjoying a pleasant place. I want you to take some deep breaths and picture yourself on a sunny beach, a peaceful place where everything is serene.”
She did as instructed.
“That’s it,” Tatum said, bringing the mirror closer to her. “Relax, enjoy deep relaxation. I’m going to count from one to ten, and when I reach ten, you’ll be completely relaxed. That’s right. One … two … three…”
He didn’t have to count further. A serene expression crossed her face and she closed her eyes.
Tatum reached out and touched her right arm. “Your arm is very light, Sheila, like it has a helium balloon attached to it. Let it float up. That’s good.”
Her arm slowly rose and remained suspended.
“Do you know where you are?” Tatum asked.
“I’m with…”
“Yes?”
She opened her eyes, and the change was immediate and startling to Tatum. What had been a frightened expression turned hard. A cynical smile crossed her face.
“Sheila?” Tatum asked.
“Go ahead,” a low voice challenged. “Try me.”
“Try you?”
Sheila laughed. “She’s so pathetic.”
“Who’s pathetic?”
“Little Miss Muffet. She’s a wimp.”
Tatum took a moment to collect his thoughts. When he had, he said, “Am I talking to Carla?”
Another laugh from her. “What do you care?” she said.
“I care because I care about Sheila. Where is Sheila?”
“Oh, she’s right here, and you know it.”
“I know that Sheila is right here, but now you’ve joined her. Why did you decide to come out, Carla?”
“Because she needs me.” Her tone remained scornful and belittling.
“Needs you to do what?”
“To help her. She always needs help. She’s such a weakling, always needing me.”
Tatum shifted gears. “Were you with her when she traveled to San Francisco with Dr. Sedgwick?”
“Of course I was.”
“What did you do there?”
“I don’t want to talk to you anymore. I don’t like you.”
“But I like you, Carla. What did you do when you and Sheila were in San Francisco? Did you go to the Lightpath Clinic with her?”
There was no response. Sheila twisted in her chair and her face scrunched up as though in pain.
“What’s the matter, Sheila?” Tatum asked.
“Don’t do it anymore,” she whined. “Stop it! I don’t want any vitamins. Stop it!”
“Who is giving you vitamins, Sheila?”
“Get away from me. It hurts when you use that needle. Stop it!”
She swung her fist in the air, shuddered, wrapped her arms about herself, and sank back into the chair, a series of moans coming from her until she was still.
Tatum watched with fascination as she went through these contortions. When she was quiet, he asked, “Am I speaking with Sheila now, or Carla?”
Sheila fumbled for an answer before saying, “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Doing what, Sheila?”
“It hurts.”
Tatum changed characters and fell into the role of whomever Sheila had been talking with about the vitamin shots. He altered his voice and said, “The needle doesn’t hurt. It’s just vitamins. They’re good for you. They make you stronger.”
He sensed that she was slowly coming out of her trance state. He tried to deepen it: “Deeper, deeper, deeper.”
She groaned and stretched her arms in front of her like someone waking up in the morning. She shook her head and looked around. “What am I doing here?” she asked.
“You’re here in police headquarters with me,” Tatum said. “How do you feel?”
“I feel … I feel all right. Oh, my God, you think I killed Mark.”
“No, Sheila, I don’t think that you did, but you have to help me prove that.”
“How can I prove something I didn’t do?”
“When you were a little girl, did you have imaginary playmates?”
“No. I mean, yes I did. Every child has imaginary friends. Didn’t you?”
“Sure I did. Do you remember their names?”
She shook her head and smiled. “I don’t think so.”
“Do you remember having an imaginary playmate named Carla?”
The mention of Carla’s name caused Sheila to stiffen, as though Tatum had poked her with a stick.
“Sheila? Do you remember Carla?”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious. I’d like to see you again, maybe this afternoon?”
“I just want to get out of here.”
“I don’t blame you. That’s what Mac Smith and I are trying to do, help you get out of here and go home.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“I’ll see if they’ll let us meet again later this afternoon,” Tatum said as he rose. He went to the door and summoned the matron and the uniformed officer who’d brought Sheila in. They came to Sheila’s side and indicated that she was to stand. She did, and they flanked her as they left the room.
Tatum left the building, got into his car, and used his cell to call Mac Smith.
“I just left Sheila, Mac,” he said. “I think I’m onto something.”
“That’s good to hear. What is it?”
“Not on the phone. I want to meet with Sheila again this afternoon. Will you put in a request?”
“Sure. Where are you now?”
“In my car. I just finished with her. I can come by if you’re free.”
“I’m here, Nic. Care to give me a hint as to what you’ve come up with?”
“Sure. I just met Carla Rasmussen. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
CHAPTER
21
Smith was grading papers in his home office when Tatum arrived. A small TV on his desk had been tuned to CNN for most of the day. The assassination attempt on Virginia senator Marshall Holtz dominated the news, as might be expected. A hospital spokeswoman gave hourly updates on his condition, as well as for the others who’d been wounded. Everyone had survived, although one victim was listed in critical condition. Senator Holtz was listed as serious but stable.
Presidential candidate George Mortinson gave a statement on the hospital steps that CNN aired over and over:
“Marshall Holtz and I have been friends ever since I was elected to the Senate. He showed me the ropes and guided me through the committee maze and legislative roadblocks. I’ve never met a finer man than Marshall Holtz, and thank God the madman who attacked him wasn’t successful in his mission to kill a leading voice in the battle to ensure fair play and a level playing field for every American. It is my hope that this incident, and too many others like it, will act as a wake-up call to curb the insanity of this nation where guns are concerned. My wife, Tricia, and I have met with the senator’s family, and they’re holding up well considering the circumstances. We’ve also met with the families of the other victims, and our hopes and prayers are with them.”
Mortinson was interviewed by reporters following his statement.
“Do you think that the nasty political rhetoric continues to inflame people like today’s shooter?”
“Of course it does,” Mortinson responded, his tone edgy. “Assaults on public officials have increased every year. The problem with those who deny that political hate speech contributes to it is that they hide behind the fact that no one speech or comment can be directly linked to an assassination attempt. But it’s the general atmosphere that feeds it. Can you trace the aberrant behavior of one teenager to a specific violent video game or movie? Probably not. But the prevailing attitude that violence solves everything is there. You add that to the easy accessibility of assault weapons in the hands of the deranged and you end up with what has happened to Senator Holtz, and to Congresswoman Giffords in Arizona.”
Smith turned off the TV as Tatum settled in a chair across from the desk. “If you intended to pique my curiosity, Nic, you succeeded. What’s this about Carla Rasmussen?”
Tatum gave Smith a play-by-play of his session with Sheila as best as he could reconstruct it.
“She just appeared out of the blue?”
“Right.”
“And now we’re talking about needles and vitamins?”
“The government’s experiments in mind control include pharmaceuticals as well as hypnosis. Maybe Sheila was being given shots in San Francisco along with being hypnotized.”
“Slow down,” Smith said. “We don’t have any proof of what happened to Sheila when she was in California. No offense, but having a mention of shots come out while she was in a trance is hardly proof of anything. What about this Lightpath Clinic?”
“That’s on my agenda,” Tatum said, “along with spending another hour with her this afternoon. I have a friend who used to work in the psych division at the CIA and who might be willing to share with me what he knows about Lightpath.”
Annabel arrived. She was in a bubbly mood because she’d just sold a pre-Columbian fourteen-inch-tall green serpentine drinking vessel to a New York City collector for her asking price. “He wanted to negotiate, but I held firm. It’s a spectacular piece, very rare, one I’ve been holding for years, and I wasn’t about to part with it for less than its actual worth.”
“Good for you, Annie,” Smith said. He said to Tatum, “Annabel often has trouble letting go of a piece once she has it in the gallery.”
“Not good for the bottom line,” Tatum said, laughing.
“But good for the soul,” Annie countered. “Lunch, anyone?”
* * *
Attorney Marie Darrow had met with Sheila Klaus earlier that afternoon. Tatum arrived two hours after Darrow had left and settled in with Sheila in the same room in which they’d met earlier that day.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Hollow,” she replied, “as though every ounce of energy has been pulled out of me.”
“I don’t wonder,” Tatum said. “Did you enjoy our session this morning?”
She shrugged.
“You said you couldn’t be hypnotized, but you were.”
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