by J. A. Faura
And with that Barlow walked through the door, closing it behind him. Stephanie came into the office once the man had left. Steven was sitting at the table with one hand over his mouth, clearly deep in thought. Stephanie became instantly concerned. She had seen the look before, never because of something good.
“Are you alright? You’re a bit pale.”
Steven looked up at her, “Huh? Oh, yeah. Just thinking, just thinking.”
Stephanie decided to leave it alone. He would have told her if it had been something he wanted to talk about, always had.
“I’m going home, Steph. I just came in to talk to him, but I have to get back home.”
Stephanie watched as he picked up his things and got ready to leave, “That man gave me the creeps. I don’t know why, he looked nice enough, but he just had this little grin on his face while he waited for you. Just sat perfectly still with his hands on his lap and that stupid grin.”
As he was walking to leave, Steven looked at her, gave her a sad smile and a little kiss on the forehead, “Yeah, I know what you mean. I’ll see you, Steph.”
He went down into the garage where the driver was waiting for him. On his way home, his mind was racing with possibilities. He should have checked the man out more thoroughly before agreeing to meet with him – damn that had been sloppy – but he had been happy about the news Drew had given him and he wanted to get out of the house. Besides, he would have most likely run into mentions of Barlow in his capacity as a profiler and would have still met with him. Now, with the weight of the trial looming over him, he had to concentrate on the case, put everything else out of his mind. He knew he had to do it, but he also knew, with absolute certainty, that he would never be able to put Barlow out of his mind. If there was one thing he had learned from Tracy’s disappearance, it was that hard as he might try, he was just not capable of lying to himself. Once he got home, the first thing he did was to call Beth. He missed her, missed the sound of her voice. He would never tell her about Barlow, about what he was or that he had met with him.
After asking about the kids and her parents, Steven explained to Beth that right now they were in ‘wait and see’ mode. The DA was analyzing the case and weighing his options, that’s what Drew and Max had said. They had also said that there would most likely be an evidentiary hearing to determine whether the court would even allow the defense to move forward. They had explained that the DA would be asking the court to find, as a matter of law, that Donald Riche was a human being. That had started another round of pundits and legal experts proffering their opinion on the matter. It was on every single news channel and there were millions of results online.
Steven and Beth had almost gotten into a fight when she insisted on coming to New York to be with him and he insisted that she would be far better in a safe place, somewhere they couldn’t be accosted by a mob of reporters. In the end Steven had won, his had been the most reasoned argument and she knew it, but she was still upset.
The truth was that Steven needed elbow room. He had to figure out what to do next. As soon as he got off the phone with his wife, he went online to research Nigel Barlow. He found hundreds of hits from all across the country. He had been telling the truth, he did profiling work for the FBI and various other law enforcement agencies. It was obvious the man worked all over the country. The most recent cases Steven had been able to find were in California and Utah. In both of those instances, there were several people missing and in both, law enforcement was treating them as missing persons but were almost certainly also treating them as murders. Barlow had been a consultant in both instances and no suspects had been apprehended. As he was looking through the information, Steven also found three cases where Barlow had not been a consultant, but rather the therapist that the accused murderers had been going to before their crimes. Steven knew that he would never be able to testify to anything that the accused had said to him during their sessions, but the defense teams in each of the cases had brought him up to support their claims that their client had been under treatment. In each of the cases, the defense had made a claim of diminished mental capacity or insanity, and in each of the cases, the defense had failed and the accused had been convicted of multiple counts of first-degree murder. After staring at the computer for three hours, Steven had a clear picture of who, of what, Barlow was. In every single case he had been involved in, it had been young, college-age men that had gone missing. All of them had come from well-to-do families, all of them had gone missing without a trace and none of them had been found. Barlow had consulted with the FBI and the local police. In every one of the cases, police had not been called initially because it had taken a while for the men to be reported missing.
As he kept reading, Steven noticed that the murder victims in each of the cases where Barlow had been mentioned as having treated the defendant also happened to be young men. A picture was beginning to emerge, a picture that was almost too hard to fathom, but given what he now knew, what he had been through, it was a picture he could not ignore. He believed that Barlow was a Homo sapiens predaer and that he had been responsible for the disappearances. Either he had done it himself or, more than likely, he had directed others like him to do it. He could not imagine the horrors those men had faced at the hands of one or maybe more of these predators. The information Steven had found went back a full 10 years and in that time Barlow had been on the move almost constantly. He knew these things because of what he had been through, but he was also aware that to anyone looking in from the outside it might look like the paranoid mind of someone who has suffered a great loss and who had faced unimaginable evil. He needed for a fresh set of eyes to look at this, at everything he had found about Barlow and to have someone else’s opinion, and he thought he knew who he would call on.
Chapter 21
Cecil and Thurman Meeks were identical twins. They had served under Steven the last three years he was with the SEALs. Both men were just about six feet tall, slender, but with broad shoulders and powerful legs, always dressed in identical Armani or Hugo Boss suits, but different-colored ties. The Twins, as they were known, were black with light blue-green eyes and the only way to tell them apart was how they wore their hair or, as was most often the case, how they wore their facial hair. Both men’s heads were shaved to a smooth shine. Cecil had a goatee while Thurman was clean-shaven. Steven could also tell them apart because of the small, almost imperceptible scar that was just behind Thurman’s ear, a scar courtesy of flying shrapnel from an IED. The Twins had left the service at the same time that Steven had and while he went the corporate route, they went into business for themselves. They had enough contacts around the world and the skills necessary to ensure they would never be out of work. Steven knew that the General called on them from time to time for ‘off the books’ operations. His boss had never offered and Steven had never asked, but he knew that they were called when there could be no trace of company involvement in whatever it was they were doing. They were two of the best operators that Steven had ever worked with and they did everything with one prime, underlying principle: loyalty. The Twins were loyal to those they respected and no amount of money or influence would ever change their zeal. The other thing that Steven knew he could count on was discretion. No matter what it was that he would ask them to do, he knew it would never go beyond them, ever.
He’d asked both men to come to his house to discuss what he needed done and that they do so as discreetly as possible. Both men had arrived in a furniture moving van wearing overalls with the company’s logo on them. Cecil was also wearing a Yankees baseball cap.
As soon as he opened the door and saw both men, Steven took Cecil’s outstretched hand and pulled him in for a hug, “Look at you, you guys went into the moving business? I knew there was a bright future ahead for you two.”
Cecil returned the hug and chuckled at the joke, “You know us, anywhere we can make a buck.”
Thurman, the quieter and more pensive of the two, also gav
e Steven a hug, “It’s been a long time, brother, we’re really sorry about everything you’ve had to go through.”
Steven thanked him for the thought.
Cecil also took on a more serious note, “Yeah, man, we wanted to come by and see you, you know, just to make sure you were doing okay, but then we thought maybe you’d want to be alone for a while.”
Steven motioned for them to follow him to the living room, “Thanks, guys, I appreciate it, and for what it’s worth, you were right. For a while there, I needed to be alone, to figure things out.”
Steven didn’t want to get into everything that had happened, it had been all over the news and just like everybody else, the Twins were well aware of what he intended on arguing.
Never one to dally too much, Thurman got right down to business, “Well, you know you can count on us for anything you need.”
That was his way of asking what they could do for him. Steven explained everything that had happened, the media and all the attention his case was getting. He also explained how he had come to meet with Barlow, how he’d thought he was another researcher, a scientist interested in the case. That was where it had gotten interesting, he couldn’t tell them what he thought he knew, what he thought Barlow was, but he needed to give them some explanation for what he was about to ask them to do.
“After I met with the guy, I looked him up. It’s something I really should have done before agreeing to meet with him, but you know how it is, you get complacent. Anyway, after I met with the guy, I did some research and found out the guy has been a part of more than 12 multiple murders or missing persons cases over the past 10 years. He’s been doing his work for longer than that, but I only went back 10 years.
“Not only that, he was the therapist for three guys that were all accused of murder in three different states. As their therapist, he couldn’t testify in their trials, he could simply acknowledge he had been treating the defendants, and that was how he came to be mentioned in those cases. I’m not sure what the chances are, what the actual statistical odds are that he just happened to be the therapist for three different murder suspects and that he also happens to be a criminal profiler in at least 12 cases, cases where no body has ever been found and where they have no suspects. I’d be willing to bet they’re long odds, though.
“The thing is, he’s constantly on the move; therefore, the cases are in different states and different jurisdictions, so no one has ever put it together.”
There it was, that was as far as Steven was willing to risk it. He had not given them any sense of what he’d been thinking. He had simply let them know why it was he was interested in the guy. Cecil and Thurman looked at each other. With that look, they let him know that they didn’t know what the odds of such a coincidence were, but they too knew they were long odds indeed.
Thurman was the first to articulate what they all knew should come next, “We’ll get into the guy. Find out where he lives, what his patterns are, you know the drill. If he moves around as much as you say he does, he probably keeps more than one house. We’ll get into that first. C, I’m sure this cat has passwords for his passwords wherever he lives, so we’ll have to get the Russian on it.”
Before Steven could protest about bringing someone else into this, Cecil interjected, “Don’t worry, bro, this guy is a Russian outfit guy and he operates out of Lithuania. He’s as off the grid as you can get. He has enough computing power to bring down the servers at companies like Visa and American Airlines, he’s actually done that, wiped the American Airlines reservation system and he did it because they lost his luggage. Whatever this guy’s security measures are, the Russian will get through them.”
Steven nodded, a thought occurred to him all of a sudden, something he hadn’t thought before but which was a possibility, “You know, it may be that he doesn’t have any extreme security measures. I mean, why should he, right? Maybe to hold patients’ confidential files, but that shouldn’t be anything more complicated than a small safe.”
Thurman nodded, “You may be right. All the better that way. Less time to get what we are looking for.”
As that was Thurman’s way of asking what exactly it was they were looking for, Steven obliged. “I just want to know what this guy’s real connection to all these cases is. Maybe it is just coincidence that every case he’s consulted or been the therapist in is a case where young men disappeared or were murdered by one of his patients. Maybe he specializes in missing young men situations, maybe, but doubtful. I just want to know what is underneath the façade he puts on.”
Thurman and Cecil listened carefully, they understood what it was Steven was looking for, but they also had questions of their own and there just wasn’t an easy way to ask them.
Once Steven finished, Cecil asked, “You know you can count on us, Steve, you always will, but we got to know, is this something to do with everything else going on? With your case and all that?”
Steven knew the question would come sooner or later and he wasn’t sure how he would handle it until the very moment when they had asked the question, “Yeah, it’s something to do with the science, with the argument I will be presenting as a defense. But it isn’t related to the case at all, I haven’t spoken with anyone about Barlow and I plan on keeping it that way.
“You two are the only ones I have spoken with. I wish I could tell you guys more, but honestly I don’t even really know what it is I’m looking for. I just have a feeling about the guy and maybe I’m paranoid, or maybe I’m looking for monsters under the bed where there aren’t any, but I need to know what this guy’s about.”
Both men were nodding as he was speaking. These were men that had been in some pretty dicey situations under Steven’s command and they had learned long ago to trust the man’s instincts. Those instincts had saved their skin more than once.
Thurman got up and Cecil followed, “No worries, man, sometimes you don’t know what you’re looking for until you find it.”
Steven hugged both men and sent them on their way. Now it was just a waiting game. Once he’d seen them off, he made himself a quick bite and washed it down with water. He hadn’t known just how hungry he was until he had finished his sandwich. He called Beth to check on her and the kids. As he had suspected, mainstream media looking for an angle had flooded the town, and as he had hoped, they had not been welcomed nor assisted by the small Vermont community of Queensbury.
After hanging up with Beth and as he was getting ready to go to bed, he got a call from Drew. “Steven! Where the hell have you been? Don’t you ever check your messages?”
Steven had to smile, “Only the messages I want to get.”
Drew didn’t pay attention, “Well, I’ve been trying to get hold of you. We have a hearing the day after tomorrow. Just like we told you, the DA has asked that the judge decide as a matter of law that Riche was a human being. That means that the judge could basically crush our defense before we even get off the ground. Basically, he would be deciding that Riche was human before we ever present any of our evidence.
“Max, Ray and I don’t think that will be the case, we have a defense-friendly judge, and we have enough solid science to at least present the argument.”
Steven interrupted, “Ray, who’s Ray?”
Drew sounded impatient on his end of the phone, “Ray is an attorney that Max and I brought in for the case. Trust me, we need this guy. He’s an older guy, old-school attorney, not too flashy and a great litigator.
“We need him because when we put the expert witnesses on the stand it, the one who conducts the direct should be someone who comes across as a wise old hand, someone who has seen it all. We need for the jury to listen to this guy and to feel like they’ve been listening to a story while sitting on grandpa’s knee.”
Steven chuckled on his end, “Okay, okay, I get it, you recruited Santa Claus to be on our team.”
Now it was Drew who chuckled, “That’s right and who better to know who’s been nau
ghty or nice.”
“Ohh, that was awful,” Steven winced at the cheesy reference.
Drew went on, “Anyway, you need to come in sometime tomorrow so you can meet Ray and so we can go over all of the evidence we’ll be presenting. It’s an evidentiary hearing, so the lawyers will do all of the talking. We’re going to get started early, so just come when you’re ready.”
Steven agreed to be there, hung up the phone and went about getting ready for bed. Before going to bed Steven sat in front of his laptop trying to find whatever additional information he could about Barlow’s education and early years. He graduated from UC San Diego with a double major in chemistry and pharmacology, then he got his medical degree at Harvard and interned at Johns Hopkins and at USC Medical Center. He started a neurology practice early in his career, but that hadn’t lasted for long. After he closed his practice, there was no information on the man for six years when he showed up as a profiling consultant for the San Bernardino sheriff’s office. After that first case, Barlow showed up all over the country, always as a consultant or a profiler. In every instance, the case had to do with young men going missing and in every instance, a suspect was never developed. He had also shown up in three cases where his patient had gone on to commit several murders. The mentions were brief as it related to Barlow. He was simply mentioned as one of the doctors that had treated the suspect. No authority or reporter had made the connection given the fact the cases were in completely different states and jurisdictions. Steven finally closed his laptop, his eyes were dry from staring at the screen and he had to get up early.
The next morning, Steven showered, dressed and went to sit at the kitchen table to drink his coffee and read the newspaper. As he expected, his story was the cover story on the front page, as it had been for the past week, and as it would probably be for the foreseeable future. He put most of the paper aside and just read the sports pages. At least there he knew he would not be reading about himself, but he would be reading about the Knicks and how horrible they were this year. He finished his coffee, got his coat from the front closet and went downstairs where he knew there would be a sea of reporters waiting for him, just like there had been all week. He waited in the lobby of his building until he saw the Town Car, and when it was directly in front of the door, he went out.
