By Reason of Insanity (David Brunelle Legal Thriller Series Book 3)

by Stephen Penner

  Brunelle grinned. “No time for that, Jess. I have an innocent woman to put in prison.”

  Adrianos was listening to every word.

  Chapter 37

  Arkham Asylum had nothing on Cascade Mental Hospital, at least not at twilight, the turrets and gables casting long shadows over the barred windows of the sanitarium. Brunelle parked his car in the same spot, the gravel crunching even louder in the silence that stuck to the scene like the new dew forming on the grass. He shut his car door and walked slowly to the heavy wooden door that was the border between the sane world outside and the insanity within. A moment later he was walking into the insanity.

  Again, there was no receptionist. Again, One-Eyed Eddie sat on a bench to his left. If he was rocking, it was imperceptible. Brunelle wondered if he was sleeping. He wondered how much more violently Eddie would react to a bell that woke him from a deep sleep.

  Mercifully, he didn’t have to find out. Adrianos came swiftly down his hallway to the lobby. Brunelle looked up and saw the video surveillance camera blinking at him from a corner.

  “Mr. Brunelle.” He was on Brunelle in a flash, shaking his hand and steering him by the shoulder back toward his office. “Thank you for coming in. I’m sorry about all the confusion.”

  Brunelle shrugged as his shoes clacked off the institutional floor. “That’s okay. It happens.”

  Adrianos looked down at him. “Does it happen a lot?”

  “Discovery violations?” Brunelle answered. “I guess so. It’s not supposed to, but we all have a lot of cases and—”

  “No,” Adrianos interrupted. “I mean you being confused. Does that happen a lot?”

  Brunelle frowned. “I wasn’t confused. Jessica made a mistake.”

  Adrianos offered a grin as they reached his office. “You avoided my question, Mr. Brunelle. Well done.”

  Brunelle looked at him. “I don’t think I did.”

  “You don’t?” Adrianos said as they stepped into his office. “That’s interesting.”

  He gestured at the guest chairs. “Have a seat.”

  “I’d rather stand,” Brunelle replied. It was uncomfortably quiet in the hospital. There were no sounds save their voices. He almost would have preferred some background screaming, or at least moaning.

  Adrianos smiled sideways at him as he opened his file cabinet. “Interesting,” he repeated. He pulled a file out and closed the drawer.

  “Here you are, Mr. Brunelle.” He handed the file to Brunelle.

  Brunelle opened it and flipped through, looking for a report he didn’t recognize. It was in the back. Only a few pages, but still, Edwards should have given it to him before she called Adrianos to the stand. Brunelle frowned at that, and also at his realization he wasn’t going to be able to leave quite yet.

  “There are no discs,” he observed. “You couldn’t transfer the video, huh?”

  “No,” Adrianos answered. “We have a proprietary system. All of our videos can be viewed on our system, but it’s not compatible with other players.” He raised an eyebrow at Brunelle. “I mentioned that in court today. Did you forget?”

  Brunelle shook his head. “No, I was just hoping I could get out of here sooner rather than later.”

  “Oh.” Adrianos nodded. “Is someone expecting you?”

  “No,” Brunelle answered too quickly. “I don’t have any plans tonight. I just don’t like to spend my free time in mental hospitals.”

  “Are you feeling uncomfortable?”

  “I’m just looking forward to getting home,” Brunelle replied brusquely. He was getting tired of the psychobabble. “Can we just watch the videos? Maybe I’ll watch the most recent one first. I might not need to see the others.”

  He’d memorized the first two reports already anyway. The sooner he could get out of Chez Adrianos the better.

  And for the third time, Adrianos said, “Interesting.”

  Brunelle wished he’d stop saying that.

  “The video viewing room is in the forensic wing.” Adrianos pointed toward the door. “Shall we?”

  Brunelle nodded. “By all means.”

  He closed the file and followed Adrianos into the hallway. The echoes of their synchronized steps filled the corridor.

  “You did a good job today,” Adrianos said without looking at him.

  “Oh, uh, thanks,” Brunelle replied. He didn’t usually get feedback from his witnesses, especially not in the middle of their testimony.

  “You’re a very good lawyer.”

  Brunelle nodded cautiously. “Thanks.”

  “That’s fairly normal for narcissists,” Adrianos observed. “They are usually very good at what they do, and receive praise for it. It’s when the amount of praise they need reaches an unhealthy level that one can begin to see the pathology behind the competency.”

  “Uh, okay,” Brunelle answered. “I think I’m doing fine, thanks. I like what I do. I don’t need praise.”

  “We all need praise,” Adrianos countered. They had reached a heavy metal door which separated the administrative wing from the forensic wing. Adrianos entered a code into the keypad and the clang of the bolt unlocking echoed through the hallway.

  Brunelle shrugged. “Sure. But I know I’m good at what I do. I don’t need people telling me that all the time.”

  They stepped through the door and it slammed shut behind them. It seemed even quieter in the forensic wing, Brunelle thought, if that were even possible.

  “Well, what about the opposite?” Adrianos asked. “Are you afraid of losing this case?”

  “Not afraid,” Brunelle replied. “Anxious, but not afraid.”

  “Anxious?” Adrianos repeated. “That’s interesting. What are you anxious about?”

  Brunelle tapped the file folder. “A murderer might go free.”

  “What about losing face? Status? Respect?”

  Brunelle shook his head. “No, I’m confident in my abilities. This is a difficult case. If I lose, I lose. But if I win—”

  “Then you really are a great lawyer,” Adrianos finished his sentence, and came to a stop in front of another metal door. “Right?”

  Brunelle stopped too and looked Adrianos in the eye. He really hated psychologists. “Right,” he admitted.

  Adrianos raised an eyebrow. “And if you lose the case, you might lose your job.”

  Brunelle grimaced. “You heard about that, huh? I’m not too worried. Like I said, I do a good job.”

  “Of course you do,” Adrianos said as he entered another code into this next keypad. “But sometimes, it’s that one extra fear that can send us over the edge.”

  “I’m not going over any edge,” Brunelle assured him.

  “If you lose your job,” Adrianos ignored Brunelle’s protest, “you lose your identity. You won’t be a prosecutor any more. You won’t be the hero any more.”

  “I won’t be able to eat any more,” Brunelle quipped, uncomfortable with Adrianos’ two-minute psycho-assessment of his life.

  The door unlocked with another armored clank and Adrianos opened it, gesturing Brunelle to walk in first. “So, you’re confused, forgetful, anxious, and about to lose your hero identity.”

  Brunelle turned back and frowned. “I didn’t say that,” he was pretty sure. “You did.”

  Adrianos stood in the doorway. “Do you know what a D.M.H.P. is, Mr. Brunelle?”

  Brunelle had heard the acronym. They had them in the jail for the crazy inmates. His expression must have betrayed his uncertainty.

  “It stands for Designated Mental Health Professional,” Adrianos explained. “I’m a D.M.H.P.”

  Brunelle nodded slowly. “Okay.”

  Adrianos stepped up to Brunelle. Brunelle was reminded of the several inches and dozens of pounds Adrianos had on him.

  “A D.M.H.P. has the authority to detain someone who is undergoing a psychotic episode,” Adrianos said. Brunelle suddenly noticed there was no video-viewing equipment in the room. In fact there was nothing i
n the room at all. Adrianos grabbed him by the shoulder and he felt a sharp prick at the base of his neck.

  Brunelle grabbed his neck and stumbled backward. He felt a rush of heat into his face and extremities.

  “You’re having a narcissistic break, Mr. Brunelle,” Adrianos said as he stepped back into the hallway, the hypodermic needle now obvious in his hand. “I can’t let an innocent woman be convicted by a man who is having a psychotic breakdown.”

  Adrianos clanked the door shut as Brunelle felt his legs weaken. He dropped to one knee.

  “Just try to relax, Mr. Brunelle,” Adrianos’ voice came over a loudspeaker. “You need rest. A nurse will be by in the morning to administer more meds.”

  The heat in Brunelle’s extremities was turning into an all-over warmth. It engulfed the beat of his heart and the stream of his thoughts. He was only minimally aware of the room going dark before he slumped to the floor and passed out.

  Chapter 38

  Brunelle knew he’d dreamt, but he couldn’t remember the dreams. Somehow, he knew to be glad for that. But his head was still thick with whatever Adrianos had stuck into his neck, so when the door clanked open and a ray of light fell across his face, he was pretty sure he was still dreaming. Or else he was dead.

  Looking up he guessed the latter. There was an angel kneeling down next to him.

  “Dave,” said the angel. “Dave, wake up. Are you okay?’

  Brunelle forced his eyes to focus on the scarred face in front of his. It was Robyn.

  ‘Robyn,’ he tried to say. It came out as “Rrrgghhnmm.”

  She helped prop him into something resembling a sitting position. His limbs felt like lead.

  “Breathe deeply,” Robyn told him. “You’ll feel better in a few minutes.”

  “Whunngh?” Brunelle tried. He took a breath and focused on making his tongue work. “What happened?”

  “Peter injected you with a narcotic,” Robyn explained. “He thinks you’re insane.”

  Brunelle, with some conscious effort, managed to swallow. Then he nodded heavily. “Takes one to know one.”

  His wits were returning to him. “Hhnn—How did you find me?”

  Robyn looked down. “Peter likes to celebrate his victories,” she said.

  Brunelle shook his head at her. He didn’t understand.

  “He talks in his sleep,” she expounded.

  “Ah.” He got it. “Celebrate. You. Bed. Sleep. Got it.”

  He tried not to puke.

  “You need to get out of here before the nurse comes,” Robyn stood and started to pull him to his feet. “She does her rounds at nine.”

  “What time is it?” Damn, that light from the hallway was bright.

  “Not quite eight. Enough time to get to the courthouse before she finds you missing and calls Peter.”

  Brunelle nodded. It hurt less than the last time he moved his head. That was good.

  She handed him his wallet and keys. “I couldn’t find your phone,” she apologized, “but Peter left these in his desk. Now get out of here.”

  Brunelle didn’t need to be told twice. Well, apparently he did need to be told twice. But not three times.

  He took his keys and wallet and staggered into the hallway. His head was clearing. He remembered something important to say. “Thank you, Robyn.”

  She smiled. He loved that dimple of hers. “You’re welcome. Now go.”

  Three times after all. He was a stubborn bastard. As Adrianos was about to find out.

  Chapter 39

  Brunelle would later blame it on the drugs still in his system, but as he exploded into Perry’s courtroom, he realized he hadn’t thought things out quite enough. For starters, he looked like hell. This was confirmed by the expressions of shock he received from those inside the courtroom—a shock exceeding that warranted simply by the courtroom doors banging open. He also had a vague awareness that he might not have smelled all that good either. He realized he didn’t need to use the bathroom, and didn’t recall any toilet in his cell. That left only one unappealing conclusion as to where he had last urinated.

  But more than all that, he realized he hadn’t called Chen or anyone else in advance. He hadn’t even recruited the security guards as he passed the metal detectors at the front entrance. Instead, he had gone directly to the courtroom and stormed in, probably looking just about as crazy as Adrianos claimed he was.

  All of which meant, when that happened, and everyone stopped whatever they were doing—like the scene in the Old West bar where the piano player stops playing and everyone looks at the gunslinger who just walked through the swinging door—there were only two people who actually knew what was going on: Brunelle and Adrianos, the man who’d risked everything to kidnap him. Everyone else stood there, momentarily stunned.

  Which gave Adrianos just enough time to grab the gun from the holster of the corrections officer standing next to him.

  Sometimes, narcissists just need one more thing to snap.

  The corrections officer reached for his belt, but it was too late. He stepped toward Adrianos, just as the two other officers unholstered their own weapons—and Adrianos grabbed Edwards as a shield. He put the gun to her neck and backed up, looking around wildly.

  Perry wasn’t on the bench yet. The bailiff hit the alarm and he and the court reporter ducked behind the bar. Brunelle heard the door to the judge’s chambers lock from the inside. The two reporters in the front row ran out the main door. Thompson, who’d come to watch Adrianos testify again, crouched down between the gallery benches. Fargas, that bastard, hadn’t arrived yet. And the unarmed officer abandoned Adrianos, and instead secured his prisoner, pulling Keesha away from the gunman and handcuffing her to a chair in the back corner.

  The standoff was complete.

  “Let her go,” Brunelle tried to command. He didn’t slur his speech, but there wasn’t much force to his voice either.

  “Why?” Adrianos answered. “She’s my only chance of getting out of here alive.”

  Good point, Brunelle admitted to himself. Instead he said, “You’re not getting out of here period. You know that. Don’t make this any more serious than it already is.”

  A good counterpoint, he thought.

  Adrianos seemed to think so too. His mind was racing behind wild eyes. “Damn you, Brunelle. How did you get out?”

  He was thinking clearly enough to say, “I’m not telling you that.”

  But it didn’t matter.

  “I let him out.” Robyn walked into the courtroom. She stepped around Brunelle and right up to Adrianos and the understandably silent Edwards.

  “You two-timing slut,” Adrianos growled. “I never should have trusted you.”

  “You didn’t, Peter,” she replied. “You never did. But you talk in your sleep and you’re too proud for your own good.”

  “So you let your new boyfriend out. Fine. Another fuck-toy for you. You never were anything more than a common whore.”

  “I’m an uncommon whore,” she said. Then, her voice lowered just a notch. “I’m your whore.”

  That was an unexpected turn in the conversation, but then again, the last twenty-four hours had been pretty unexpected. But the comment jarred Brunelle from merely observing the scene to analyzing it. He noticed that no additional officers had arrived. Undoubtedly they had been called. He supposed they had set up a perimeter and were guarding all possible exits. Which meant they were guarding all possible entrances too. But Robyn had been let through. ‘I can be very convincing.’

  It was a set up.

  “Peter,” she said. “Let Jessica go. She had nothing to do with this. Take me instead. You’ll still get out of here. Then we can talk.”

  Adrianos didn’t say anything. He looked at Edwards, who was trying not to hyperventilate with a .45 caliber semi-automatic shoved under her jaw, then at Robyn again.

  “Put the gun to my neck, Peter,” she said. “Let her go.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’
t you?” Adrianos sneered. “You pretend you like that stuff, but you don’t really. You pretend I’m in control, but I’m not. It’s really you. Always you. Just like all women.”

  This isn’t going well, Brunelle thought. But for some reason he had faith in Robyn.

  “Let her go, Peter,” she repeated, taking a step toward him. “Take me. You won’t hurt me. That’s our deal, remember? You never really hurt me.”

  Robyn reached out and pulled Edwards from Adrianos’ grasp. He didn’t resist. She pushed Edwards to the side and took her place in front of Adrianos, her back against his chest, the gun against her dimple. Adrianos let her do it. He was right: she was in charge.

  She looked up at him. “Ready, Peter?”

  He nodded. “Yes. I’m ready.”

  “Me too,” she breathed, and reached up to kiss him. Adrianos hesitated, but then leaned into the kiss. That’s when she bit down on his lip and tore away, blood spurting across her dimple.

  “You bitch!” he yelled and shoved her away.

  Brunelle didn’t know if he’d pushed her away just out of blind rage, or to line up the kill shot he was going to take on her. But it didn’t matter.

  Robyn was clear.

  The officers opened fire.

  First Epilogue

  “Not guilty by reason of insanity?” Kat asked over Brunelle’s glass. She was trying some of his whiskey. “Do you think that’s justice?”

  Brunelle nodded. They were at the same bar as the night he hadn’t gotten any dinner. Not that he was complaining.

  “I always did.” he said. “She’s insane. She belongs in a mental hospital, not prison. After the first trial ending in a mistrial—that happens when the star defense witness goes nuts and gets shot dead in the courtroom—Jessica was in no mood to try the case again. Especially without Adrianos to bullshit the jury. Besides, no other psychologist wanted to validate that nut job’s opinions, so she really had no choice. We drafted up an agreed NGRI judgment and Keesha will spend the next twenty years at Western State Hospital where she can get the help she needs.”

  “What about Fargas and his lawsuit?” Kat slid the glass back to Brunelle. “And your job?”