by LS Sygnet
"And Kelly and Varden are involved in these kinds of union disputes? To the highest bidder, you said."
"Uh, yeah, which is usually the union in question."
"That makes no sense. Why would these guys be interested in me?"
Charlie shifted in his seat enough to tap the accelerator. The car surged ahead and didn't slow when he settled. "Because the guy most directly involved with union business in this city is –"
"Danny Datello," I muttered.
"How the heck would Datello know that Hardy and Weber wanted to snatch you away from the FBI? That doesn't make any sense. Orion must've been wrong. Or lied."
"Yeah, that's probably it. Like I said. It's probably nothing."
The heart knows what the mind wants to deny. I knew that Datello had an axe to grind with me before George Hardy ever conceived of picking up the telephone to ask for my help. The code of family meant something different to Danny than it did to most, even to his corrupt Uncle Sully. I violated the code. I turned on the man I promised to love and honor 'til death parted us.
Explaining that to anyone, let alone Charlie Haverston, opened a well hidden can of worms that I wouldn't even acknowledge existed.
"It can't be nothing, Helen. They were in Washington you say?"
"Charlie, not right now. We've got another more serious matter that demands our full attention. We've got to get Candy Blevins into custody before someone else gets hurt. I'm still a little bit fuzzy on some of our conversations this week, so I don't remember if I shared a theory Maya postulated when she discussed the autopsy findings on Gwen Foster."
"I wasn't aware there was a final report."
"There isn't yet. Toxicology testing takes time, so she can't close the file from her end until that's finished." I filled him in on the bruising Maya discovered and the possible source.
"So you're thinking that this guy gained a partner at some point, and that this smaller, weaker person would have to be female since Foster wasn't a giant like …"
"Like I am," I chuckled. "I think that sums up the obvious."
"And Candy Blevins fits the bill."
"She wasn't held for two days. She didn't come home naked or her parents would've known that she wasn't lying about the sexual assault. She has a criminal history that stretches back into early childhood. In a twisted way, it fits the Foster crime scene and helps explain why this one felt so much different than what I read about Brighton Bennett's murder."
"Because Candy would've been seven years old when Brighton was murdered. She couldn't have been part of it."
"This is my theory right now. If our perp happened on Candy first and abducted her, the response he received from his typical scare tactics wouldn't have been one he ever anticipated. We're talking about someone who thrives on psychological terror."
"And Candy is that messed up?"
"From what Carrie told us tonight and what I gleaned from the statements that Candy made to the police, and her criminal record in Portico as well as the continued arrests here in Darkwater Bay, I would conclude based on that alone that before Candy reached her teens she suffered from something we call conduct disorder in psychology. It can be a precursor to antisocial personality disorder, a maladaption during personality formation that predisposes its subjects to a total lack of empathy for others."
"It's that mirror image twin thing, isn't it? You're saying that Candy is more than the physical reverse of Carrie."
"There is no research or documentation that would support that theory, Charlie. As far as I know, its never even been studied. But the thought occurred to me while Carrie was talking to us tonight. We don't fully understand why personality disorders develop in general, but for antisocial personality, it has been suggested that childhood trauma may be a factor. Early trauma, not what Candy and Carrie endured at the hands of our perpetrator."
"So what was it for Candy?"
"Like I said, it's just a theory, Charlie. Nobody really knows for sure. You can find examples of extremely violent people with antisocial personality disorder in patients who had storybook childhoods. We simply don't know why it happens."
"Head full of bad wiring," he grunted softly. "In my opinion."
"You could be right. Several years ago, a scientific study was done to ascertain brain activity when subjects were exposed to ethical dilemmas. An MRI was performed while the subjects were presented with scenarios. When they believed that they had achieved the most ethical decision they could, the researchers noticed an interesting correlation on the brain scans."
"What was it?"
"The same primitive area of the brain that compels us to feel pleasure when we eat or have sexual intercourse lit up like a Christmas tree. The implication was that perhaps the human species evolved successfully because in social settings, it feels good to do the right thing. Our social skills, our ability to work together for the common good of a group is what is absent in other animals. At least we've always thought it was absent. Researchers are learning new things all the time about the cooperation capacities in the ape kingdom."
"So what makes people do bad things if its supposed to feel good to be part of the pack?"
"Evolution. Genetic variance. Reinforcement of bad behaviors that conditions a pleasure response when negative behavior is exhibited. Nobody can say for sure, but there are plenty of theories."
"What's your theory, Helen? Don't tell me you don't have one. You've rubbed elbows with some very bad dudes over the years."
"Some might say the worst of the worst," I agreed. Then again, there was my personal gene pool in evidence in my mind. Still, with all the so-called evil done at the hands of my father, I understood his ethics in a way that no one else possibly could. Wendell had a code he not only practiced, but passed onto me. There wasn't a pair of innocent hands on the roll call of Dad's hit list. There wasn't a child he placed elsewhere that had grown up hungry or neglected. There wasn't a business that folded because of his theft. On the contrary, it was their thieving insurance companies who ultimately paid the well deserved price.
"And?" Charlie intruded into my thoughts with a verbal nudge.
"I think that people ultimately make choices. We all have the capacity to find good in the evil deeds we might commit or the polar opposite. It's all a matter of perception."
"Is that a fancy way of saying you don't have a theory?"
"I liked yours just fine, Charlie. Some people are born with a head full of bad wiring." What gnawed in the back of my brain was another tidbit of my perception. Even though Orion struck me as annoying and reluctant to share what he knew, I didn't get the same sense from him that I get when I am confronted with truly evil men.
"Charlie, there's something else you should know about what happened to me before I came to Darkwater Bay," words that were difficult to form clawed their way off the tip of my tongue.
"What? Is this about Kelly and Varden?"
"Not exactly. Indirectly maybe."
"What was it?"
"I believe it was their intent to abduct me. Someone stopped that from happening. Someone from Darkwater Bay."
I heard the frown in his question. "Who was it?"
"Johnny Orion."
Chapter 33
Charlie hit the outskirts of Downey and didn't slow down. Instead, the lights on the unmarked car flashed in warning to motorists to get out of his way.
"Why aren't you saying anything?"
"I'm not sure what I should say, Helen. Don't think think that was a rather important detail to omit?"
"I promise you, whatever Kelly and Varden did was unrelated to this case. How could it have been? Gwen Foster was still alive when it happened."
"You're saying you've got some other link to this city, one that you don't want to explain?"
I was convinced that Haverston had what it took to make a good detective. He missed very little. "It's complicated, Charlie. And no, the link wasn't mine personally. It involved someone I once knew very well. At least I thought
I knew him well."
"I need to know the truth."
"What you need to know pertains to this investigation. Everything else is background noise. Let's get back on topic. Candy Blevins wasn't scared of the guy we're trying to find. How he reacted to that is the significant point in the evolution of his pathology. Perhaps he was getting bored, feeling that his routine had become stagnant. He might've given Candy a chance to spice things up for him."
"How?"
The truly horrific thought that occurred to me earlier returned. "By offering someone who not only fit this guy's exacting and specific type, but would be terrified of him."
"Sweet mother. You think Candy offered up her own sister? Not just a sister, her twin?"
"I suspect that the only emotion Candace Blevins feels is negative. She would hate her sister, because Carrie is sweet and kind and loving. Even through all of this, Carrie is the only person who refuses to give up on her sister."
"She hoped that Carrie would fight this guy, didn't she?"
"In a way, it makes a lot of sense. It's all theory until we can find Candy and talk to her. I should warn you in advance. You've never been manipulated until you've tried to pry the truth out of a true antisocial. They're the best natural profilers in the history of mankind."
"Are you telling me something about yourself, Helen?"
"I don't follow."
"You're pretty damned good at this profiling thing yourself. Without your insight, no way would we be this far on the case. In fact, I'm pretty sure that Rogers and Daltry would be at the bar by now, tossing back a few cold ones and watching the NBA finals."
Maybe Charlie was right. Except I didn't suffer from a conduct disorder when I was a child, which is a prerequisite for the diagnosis of antisocial personality disorder. Or so we in the field believe. Even viruses mutate and evolve. Was I the next stage in conscienceless killers?
"Hey," he reached across the console in the car and bumped a fist into my shoulder. "I was kidding."
"Candy Blevins won't be easy to coerce into honesty. I'm not sure she knows how to tell the truth. Anyway, her interview is moot if we can't find her."
"Adams and Taylor will get the job done. We've got Carrie helping now, remember."
"Right now, I can't put off talking to Orion."
"I figured as much. We're only a few minutes away from central."
"Has anyone had time to move my car to the house?"
Charlie shot me a sheepish grin. "We got your luggage wedged into the car, but didn't have time to move it out of the garage at central. I'm sorry, Helen."
"It's just as well. It'll be convenient if you and I need to split up after I talk to Orion."
"Don't I get to be part of this interview?"
"You can observe from the room, but I want him to believe this is a one on one chat with me. If you're there, I doubt he'll be the Johnny Orion I've come to expect."
By the time we reached central, the detective squad room was quiet as a tomb. "Did Thieg or Adams mention how they knew there was a powwow up here tonight when Orion was brought in?"
"The place was buzzing when they showed up for their briefing with the sergeant tonight. Before you ask, Thieg never mentioned why. You're probably right that it's this thing with Captain Martin. Police captains generally don't disappear around here."
"No, but a former chief of detectives did die in this building."
"Right. McNamara, wasn't it? That way way before my time."
Ironies, coincidences, horrible murders unsolved … they started to worm around in my gut. My sense of unease grew. I glanced over one shoulder expecting to find David and Seleeby watching me from the shadows.
"Get Orion up into the interview room. I'm gonna hit the bathroom for a minute."
"Are you all right, Helen? You look tired."
"Fully recovered since the end of our interview with Carrie Blevins. I'll meet you by the interview room in five."
I splashed water in my face, washed my hands and stared at the mirror. Charlie was right. So many events in so few days was taking a toll. There was something to be said for taking time away from work after a tragedy.
Gwen's tragedy weighed heavily on my mind. My little problems with the FBI paled in comparison to her fight for life. She too learned to go through the motions, much like the man who attacked her when she was a child. She spent more than eighteen years waiting for the day he'd be back to finish what he started.
Had it really been as simple as all that? Were all this man's victims equally at risk for a reunion? Something still didn't fit. What prompted this man to come back to Gwen? She hadn't simply disappeared. No, he left her body where it would be found. And who would've he expected to find it? I knew he must've stalked his victims in some of the cases. Until I interrogated Candy Blevins, I wouldn't know if she had anything to do with helping this guy find a substitute. Probably a wild theory.
All sorts of things raced around in my head. David and the FBI investigation were still on my mind more than I wanted to admit. I fingered the cell phone in my pocket. I could call. A simple apology might make David drop his guard. At the very least, I could ask if he and Seleeby were still nosing around in Darkwater Bay. What if, while following Kelly and Varden follow me, they learned the identity of the person who hired my shadows?
I dialed a number nothing could ever erase from my memory.
"Levine."
"David, it's Helen."
"Hi."
All right, he didn't sound thrilled to hear my voice. My perception of our relationship over the years might've been misjudged too.
"Is this a bad time?"
"You were the one who closed the door on communication. Was I supposed to divine another message from that?"
"I'm sorry, David. This has been a difficult time for me. Add to that the fact that I'm working a case that at best is a nightmare, and find out that I'm being followed by a couple of sleazy PI's from Darkwater Bay who broke into my hotel room and stole from me, and perhaps you'll understand why I was short with you the other night."
"Ah, Mr. Kelly and Mr. Varden."
"Were you following me?"
"Hmm."
"David, please talk to me. Were you lying when you said that the FBI doesn't think I'm part of Rick's criminal enterprise?"
"I know you're innocent. I have no doubt that Sully Marcos had Rick murdered."
"You, but not the FBI."
"It will blow over. They'll find evidence that points toward the guilty party, Helen."
"Were you following me?"
"I was concerned that you were getting in over your head out there."
"You've gone back to Washington?"
He chuckled softly. "After we put the fear of God into those investigators following you."
"When was that? What day?"
"Thursday. Is that important? Are they harassing you again?"
I heard his favorite leather office chair squeak. It wrapped around me like a hug. "No, David. I noticed that they weren't following me anymore today."
"We detained them after you entered a store, Apple, I believe."
"When I replaced my laptop. Did you find out who hired them?"
"Some nobody, Helen. We suspected to find out it was somebody from Marcos' clan, like Mr. Datello, who I can only warn you to stay away from because we already know he had nothing to do with Rick's death."
"Did you see the man who hired them?"
"Tall guy. Dark hair. Thin without being skinny. Why?"
Two-thirds of David's description matched what Carrie Blevins said about her rapist. How on earth could he know I might be hired by the police in Darkwater Bay? It was a secret shared by three men, possibly a fourth in the form of … now missing Rodney Martin.
"Oh my God."
"What? Helen, what's wrong?"
"I'll call you soon. Gotta go."
Charlie had Johnny Orion tethered to the table with cuffs in the interview room. "Are you sure about this, Helen? He's pissed
enough to tear that table apart with one hand."
We watched him for a few minutes through the glass in silence. "I'm sure. You didn't say anything to him about who wanted to question him, did you?"
"No. He has no idea why he's here, only that he was arrested for suspicion of murder."
"Watch and learn, Charlie. Things are about to get interesting."
I mussed my hair and paused at the door. Wanna play games, Orion? Let's play.
The door to the interrogation room opened a crack. Orion's eyes snapped into focus on that gap. I felt it. Quickly, I stepped inside, spun around and peeked through the crack I left when I swung the door shut.
"Doc?"
"Shh. They're out there. I had to sneak in. I came the second Charlie found out our investigation has been compromised. I figured you went out looking for me when I got back to the penthouse and you were gone. The interview ran long. I fell asleep waiting for you to come back."
"They arrested me on suspicion of murder. My alibi is solid, you know that."
I nodded and crept toward the table.
"Let me out of these cuffs."
"Johnny, I can't help you escape, but I can tell you why you're here."
"Why?"
"Because they suspect that you're an accessory after the fact. Gwen was already dead when she was dismembered."
"And they think I did it?"
I sat across from him and reached over to grip his hands. "I'm being cut out of the case because I let you go that night. Lowe is livid. Rogers, Daltry and Myre couldn't rub it in hard enough that they were right and I was wrong. Surely you heard the buzz around the division when you were arrested."
"I heard they were all here, but had no clue why. Doc, are you all right? You look terrible."
Part of my body wanted to recoil every time he used that little nickname, but the stakes were too high. The game had to be played. "A little tired, but I'll survive. We don't have long before whoever really wanted to talk to you comes in here."
