Apex Predator

by J. A. Faura

  Leonard nodded, “That’s the idea. As is the case with humans, Homo predaer that exist at the fringes, on either end, are the ones that stand out the most, the ones that draw our attention and thus the first to be found or defined.

  “My interest, my education, my work and my career have always dealt with deviant human behavior. From very early on, I decided to concentrate on establishing the reasons that humans, psychopaths, sociopaths and others with mental deficiencies, do the things they do and to try to understand it at the very edges of established norms, where new science is found.

  “It was only natural that if there was something beyond my end of the human spectrum, the bad end for lack of a better word, I would be likely to run into it.

  “So, to finally answer your question, we call them evolved from a survival of the species and natural selection standpoint, not from the standpoint of altruism.

  “The fact of the matter, Mr. Loomis, is that there is now a species higher on the food chain than humans, there is a new apex predator sharing the planet with us.”

  Leonard said this last part with a thin smile on his face, but there was something else there too, worry, serious worry.

  Steven, now getting up, had one last question, “You said there are other scientists studying the new species, but not at your end of the spectrum. Do you know any of them?”

  Leonard thought for a second, “I know a few of them from conferences I have attended around the world. There are some incredibly interesting studies going on in Germany and Holland. The best one here in the states is Dr. Jim Scoma out at the University of California at Irvine. He is a character, but a brilliant scientist. His work has delved more into the opposite end of the spectrum from mine.”

  Now at the door, Steven, surprised by that, stopped and asked with a bit of sarcasm, “You mean people like saints, like Jesus or John Paul II or Mother Theresa?”

  Leonard, now standing himself, chuckled, “That’s a bit further down the spectrum from where he is looking, but in essence, yes, he is more dedicated to individuals who also fall outside of human norms in many of the same ways, from a physiological or a sensory ability standpoint for instance, who lead normal lives, but who do extraordinary things, not just once, but on an ongoing basis. He has more of an uphill battle than those of us on the other end of the spectrum, believe it or not.”

  Steven looked puzzled, “Oh? How’s that?”

  Leonard’s smile widened again, “You see, we’re more likely to accept that acts of predation or hunting behavior can in fact define another species, something not human. But when it comes to acts of extraordinary kindness or altruism, we want to believe that they are the actions of our species.

  “We want the good and are more willing to accept the bad is the result of evolution. When I say we are willing to accept the result of evolution, I mean it in a hypothetical sense, of course. The fact is that both areas of research, Dr. Scoma’s and mine, have found very vigorous detractors and naysayers, not the least of which has been the religious establishment.”

  Steven could understand it. It was human nature.

  Leonard turned, sifted through some papers on his desk, found a pen and wrote down a number. “Here, this is Dr. Scoma’s number. I’m sure he would have no problem chatting with you about his work.”

  Steven took the paper and shook Leonard’s hand, “Thank you for your time, Dr. Leonard, I appreciate it.”

  Leonard nodded, “It was a pleasure, Mr. Loomis. I’m always up for talking about my work. I hope I have answered your questions and given you what you were looking for.”

  Steven looked at the man directly and held his eyes for just a beat, “You have, Professor, you have, again, thank you.” He turned and walked down the hall he had come from. He made it to the street and caught a cab almost immediately.

  Harvey Lynch had gotten exactly six hours of intermittent sleep in the last three days. Even with every one of his clerks and paralegals handling calls and preparing for their case, he still could not separate his role as an attorney from his capacity to understand what he had heard his client tell him as a human being. He had spent a total of 12 hours speaking with Donald Riche and for the first time in his career was truly at a loss as to how to best proceed. He knew he would have to represent him at the arraignment and enter a plea, but he still didn’t know exactly what that plea was going to be. In all of the time he had spent with him, and no matter how many times he explained that he would have to enter a plea, he had not gotten a straight response from Riche. What he had gotten had been some of the most horrific mental images he could have ever imagined and a look into the mind of a true monster.

  Donald Riche had laid everything out for Lynch; he knew he was his attorney and the duty that entailed. He knew if Lynch wanted to drop him as a client he would now need to formally petition the court to do so, and based on Lynch’s reaction, Donald Riche knew Lynch was not going to drop him as a client, regardless of how much he might want to.

  Now, with the arraignment looming, Lynch was determined to get Riche to understand that he would have to stand in front of a judge and answer whether he was guilty of the charges being brought against him or not.

  Riche was being held at the central holding facility, which is where Lynch was headed for his third interview with Riche. After the first two, Lynch had developed a thicker skin for the things Riche was telling him, what he could still not get over was the way Riche looked when he was talking about what he’d done.

  From the beginning he had acknowledged everything he had done, how he had done it and why he had done it. He had explained to Lynch that since he was a young boy he knew his destiny was to correct what nature had gotten wrong, he knew that a power greater than him had placed him on the earth to right what man and the world had ruined over the ages. He didn’t consider himself as one of ‘them,’ something that also included Lynch, he existed in a body that wasn’t his and he knew the reason for that. He had to fit into what the world considered normal in order for him to carry out his mandate.

  He had explained how he had tried to correct women when they were older but had found out they were too far gone, that in order for his craft to reach the sublime level it was meant to he, had to get the girls when they were pure of body and soul, before they were corrupted by the world around them and their imperfect parents.

  It wasn’t all of this or the gruesome details that still got to Harvey, those things had given him nightmares every time he closed his eyes for the past two days, but it had gotten easier to listen to over time. It was the joy, the sheer delight that Riche’s eyes reflected when he talked about it.

  Harvey Lynch had seen some of the preliminary photographs from the scene and read some of the coroner’s reports and had a hard time reconciling that carnage with the almost giddy mood that Riche got in when Lynch laid the pictures out on the table and started to explain what the prosecution and the police had by way of evidence. He had looked at the photographs not with regret or sadness, but with pride.

  Today, he would have to get Riche to let him know what he was planning on pleading or how he wanted to proceed with the case. Harvey had already explained that it was customary to plead not guilty at the arraignment in order to let all of the evidence be processed, regardless of what he would want to do later on in the process. Basically Harvey was just going to ask Riche to plead not guilty to give him the time he needed to mount a defense.

  After listening to Harvey, Donald looked at him with almost pity in his eyes, “Harvey, Harvey, of course I am going to say I am not guilty. What would you have me plead guilty to?”

  Lynch looked at him, not able to believe what he was hearing, “Donald, what are you talking about?! There are nine dead little girls and there is a mountain of evidence showing you did it! You told me you did it and it is illegal, do you understand that?! Everything you are being accused of is a horrible crime in New York, it is a horrible crime anywhere in the world!”

/>   Donald continued with the condescending tone, “Of course it is, in your world, do you understand that? There is more out there and you and everyone in your world will never understand the grander picture, the mandate. You kill each other without purpose and for that there should be a punishment, but mine is a purpose beyond anything your world will understand.

  “I don’t know this for a fact, but something beyond me tells me there are others, there are others who have their own mandates, their own destiny. I would like to think I was the only one destined to correct the things man has screwed up, but I am not worthy of being the only emissary of destiny. I am not the first one, you know I’m not, and I won’t be the last and you know that too.

  “Don’t worry, Harvey, when we get up in front of that judge, I will tell him and the world I am not guilty because there is nothing to be guilty about.”

  Harvey breathed a sigh of relief, “Okay, but in this hearing you will only say ‘Not guilty,’ do you understand? We will have plenty of time to let the world know about everything you want them to know as the case goes on, but at the arraignment you just say ‘Not guilty,’ you got that? Just that.” Trinity leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs and with a comfortable smile simply said, “Yes, I will say just that. You’re right, there will be enough time to tell the world, to explain the beauty of what I was doing, of what needs to be done.”

  Harvey packed the photos, his notes and his pocket recorder, something he had begun using in his conversations with Riche, more than anything to protect himself and to have some sort of record of what had transpired between them. As his attorney he would never release the tape, but as a human being he would have it and put it in a safe place, should anything happen to him. Someone, some doctor somewhere would surely make use of this, trying to understand what it was that this man, this creature was actually made of, what made him tick.

  “Good. Now, Donald, you understand you still shouldn’t talk to anyone, right? No one at all.”

  Donald, still relaxed and content, said, “Yes, Harvey, I understand, all in good time, all in good time.”

  Harvey finished packing his things and left the interviewing room. At least he knew they could get through the arraignment without much trouble. After that, he was still trying to figure out how to come at it.

  It was obvious the guy was guilty, he confessed to everything and there was a mountain of forensic evidence that could convict him, even if he was able to somehow prove he was in an entirely different continent when the girls went missing. So the “who” was not in contention, neither was the “how.” There was also a mountain of evidence making it very clear how he had done it. The big question was why, and from what Lynch had heard over the last few days, it was clear that this man was sick. He was a schizophrenic or a psychopath or a sociopath or something much worse, that would be something that the experts would have to determine. Lynch knew if this went to trial it was going to be all about some sort of fucked up childhood and how it affected Riche as an adult. The whole guilty by reason of insanity went out the window when Riche had explained in detail how he lured his victims, how and why he rented the warehouse in the industrial park and how he had been careful, almost meticulous about not leaving any evidence. No, Donald Riche was definitely not going to go down the ‘Not Guilty By Reason of Insanity’ route. Even if he had the best medical and psychiatric experts money could buy, the political fallout from anything but a conviction with the maximum sentence allowable by law was not something anyone involved in the case, from the mayor to the commissioner to the DA, were willing to bet their reelections on. At this point, Lynch was angling for some sort of plea that would put Riche away for life without the possibility of parole by having him plead guilty to some of the cases and pleading guilty to lesser-included offenses for the rest.

  Lynch had been around the block, however, and he knew that the political value of a televised trial with all the world watching was worth millions if not billions to too many people up for reelection, so the likelihood that they would be willing to give up their day in court and the opportunity to grandstand and come in as the knight in shining armor rescuing New York from this monster was slim indeed.

  Harvey Lynch was a smart and competent, if somewhat uptight attorney and one of the things that made him smart and competent was knowing that there was no way in hell his small law office would be able to shoulder the weight this case carried with it. He had already put out half a dozen calls to high-profile litigators that might be willing to partner with him when this thing went to trial. So far, only three had been willing to talk and only after negotiating extremely favorable financial terms for themselves. Lynch didn’t care, after hearing what he had heard from his client, all he wanted was to have this thing over with as soon as possible so he could begin the counseling and recovery process he knew he would need after this.

  Chapter 11

  Felix Garcia headed straight down to the precinct. It had been a few days now since the arrest and he had kept his reporting low-key and to the point, all in the hope that Grady would give him 20 minutes where he wouldn’t hold anything back. He understood that the first couple of days after the arrest had been a madhouse of forensic evidence, public information, coordination of involved agencies and all the rest, but now he felt there was enough of a lull in the action that Grady could give him 20 minutes of his time.

  He headed down to the precinct not willing to take no for an answer. He would wait hours if he had to, but he had held up his bargain with Grady and now wanted some reciprocity. He walked in and as usual said hello to the watch sergeant and asked for Grady, and as usual he was told Detective Grady was busy, but if he wanted to leave a note or a message, the watch sergeant would be more than happy to relay it to him.

  Felix finally lost his patience, “C’mon, Sarge, you know me and you know Grady and I have a working relationship, so how about you let him know I’m here and that I just need twenty minutes of his time.”

  The watch sergeant, an old hand at dealing with reporters, said, “I know, I know, trust me, Felix I know, but you’ve seen what it’s like around here, we’ve got guys that haven’t been home in two days, Grady being one of them. If I let you through, you know he’ll have my ass.”

  Felix answered, “I get it and I don’t want to be a nuisance, but he and I came to an understanding and I’ve held up my end of that understanding. If I can’t get just a few minutes with him, I’m going to have to go with whatever sources I can dig up, right or wrong.

  “You know all the bullshit that’s being floated out there about the NYPD not doing their job and about how this guy should have been stopped much sooner.”

  Garcia knew he was pushing the right buttons because an expression of indignation came over the sergeant’s face, “What the fuck did they want us to do, go knocking doors down? And if we had, we’d have some fucking liberal group crying about civil rights and all that other bullshit.”

  Felix was nodding, “Exactly and I just want to get things right, my paper wants to make sure everyone knows everything that could have been done was done. That’s what I want to talk to Detective Grady about and it won’t take more than 20 minutes of his time.”

  Watch Sergeant Simms thought about it for a beat and said, “Just wait right here.”

  He went to an office in the back, picked up a phone and dialed. After what seemed to be an animated conversation, he came back. “Alright, you have 10 minutes and not a second more.”

  Garcia picked up his briefcase and made his way to Bob Grady’s office. He knocked on the door and came in at the same time, “Hello, detective.”

  Grady looked up from his desk, “What’s up, Garcia? As you can see, we’re a little busy around here, so make it quick.”

  Garcia sat down without being invited, “You and I had a conversation, and if I remember correctly, we had a tacit understanding that I’d keep my pieces low-key and to the point and you’d share more with me when you got
something.”

  Grady stopped shuffling papers and looked up incredulous, “Are you fucking serious? Look around, Felix, this place is a madhouse, I can’t remember the last time I got more than three hours of consecutive sleep. I’ve been dealing with the task force, the media, the DA and some of your colleagues from the tabloid rags, and you expect me to come find you with every piece of new information?”

  Garcia answered, “No, I don’t, but I do expect that you send me an email or call in response to mine even if it just to tell me you can’t get together now. I just need five minutes of your time; you know there is a whole bunch of information out on this already. I know most of it is bullshit, but there is enough there for me to put together a story. I just wanted to see if there’s anything out there that’s just blatantly wrong or made up. I still want to keep my pieces low-key and factual. I’m staying away from the sensationalistic angle all together. There’s plenty of that out there already. I just thought you might help me keep it that way.”

  Grady looked at him for a few seconds and let a hint of a smile creep across his face, “Alright, alright, you made your point. What is it you’re looking for?”

  Garcia pulled out his computer and began, “Can you tie Riche to all the disappearances in New York?”

  Grady answered him, “Yes, at this point we have enough forensic evidence to tie him to all the disappearances of the girls that went missing that fit the profile.”

  Felix went on, “Any indication whether there may be more victims out there?”

  Grady, now looking down at his paperwork, said “We haven’t had a chance to interview Riche. He lawyered up when we went to his house, and we haven’t been able to interview him without his attorney. No way to know. If I were a betting man, though, I’d bet there are a lot more victims.”

  Garcia was typing into his computer and Grady looked up from what he was doing, “You know you can’t print that, right? That’s just my opinion.”