“ 'Hyperprosexia,' I think they call it,” Jessica suggested.
Max nodded. “That's it.” He went carefully toward the exit in search of air. Jessica followed in his wake. Just outside, Max lit up a cigarette and added, “Said even if Cahil could not be proved insane by reason of multiple- personality disorder, that he could easily be proved to have this hyperprosexia thing.”
They looked to the sky for signs of stars, the moon, anything for some respite from this place. “As I remember it from the trial,” Strand continued, “it had something to do with the sheer depth of his obsession with the brain. Course, at the time, I thought it all hogwash. But now… seeing that piece of brain tissue in there.. this Rheil thing…”
“ Hyperprosexia is a term for rigid, undeviating attention of a pathological intensity. It's considered a psychotic condition in which the mind takes hold of an idea with unshakable fixity. It certainly fits the Skull-digger's profile.”
J.T. had followed them out, listening to their conversation. He added, “In layman's terms, it's a morbidly adhered to fixation, like monomania-idk fixe the French call it.”
“ Like I told them in '90,” said Strand, inhaling deeply from his cigarette. “If they ever let this guy out again, he'll go right back to what he did before. Looks like he's cooked it a little differently, but he's still after the same thing. He's only recently displayed the picture of it, I can tell you, or I'd have been on his ass in a flash.”
“ Which of his recent victims-murdered this time around-do you suppose this brain item came from?” asked J.T. “The girl in Virginia, North Carolina, Georgia or Florida?”
“ Hopefully it's his last,” said Jessica falling silent, thinking about the second near-abduction incident in New Bern, North Carolina, and trying to square it with the newly discovered evidence against Daryl Cahil. She thought of the female voice on the phone the night she had first heard of Cahil, the voice that had so pleaded for Jessica to take an interest in Daryl as the Digger. Had the first call actually been from Cahil himself while under the control of another personality? Could he be working with an accomplice? Or were both of the failed abductions the work of another man who had no bearing on their case?
Owens had gone out to his car to call for a team of evidence techs to get to the address. He returned now to the rear stairs where the others stood talking.
Jessica told Owens, “Dr. Thorpe will have the honor of overseeing the evidence collection from here on. Right, John?”
J.T. nodded his assent. “I know you need to get to Quan-tico, and picking through this mess… well, it'll take some time. I'll see to it that Cahil's computer will follow you. We're going to need some real experts to delve into the man's website, to determine just how nuts he and his cyberspace connections are. We'll bring in someone from the Cyber Squad and get a fix on anyone out there who has taken Cahil too seriously.” “What for?” asked Strand. “You can't charge them with anything. Hell, he's selling those brains through eBay and Amazon, along with his damned Rheil noodles.”
“ Agreed, but we may just want to put any of his more serious followers on a watch list,” replied J.T.
“ And remember, no one has yet proven that this creep Cahil is in fact the Digger,” added Jessica. “If we learn there's still a killer at large, even though Cahil is in custody, then we may have someplace to start over. That's supposing Cahil has become master to some disciple out there.”
J.T. contemplated the complexities of getting at Cahil's Web list. “We've got a lot of decisions to make. Do we go back six months, a year, two, three? It's all for nothing if we can't force the Internet server to give up the profiles of the people who've logged on. And we're bucking the ACLU here, known for fighting any infringement on Internet users, Jess.”
“ I thought servers didn't want profane garbage on the Net,” said Owens, “that they monitored everything.”
“ Not Cahil's server. They've built a reputation as the bad boys of the Net. Anything goes. That way, they get subscribers,” replied J.T.
“ We'll need a fire-and-brimstone federal judge to get a warrant to open the thing up then,” said Jessica. “I'm sure it won't be a problem for the FBI.”
“ The creep has been influencing a potential audience of billions,” said J.T. “That's got to stop.”
“ Still, good luck getting the Net server to release the information. It won't be easy. I've tried it myself,” said Strand. “It'll take an act of God, Dr. Coran, not the FBI.”
“ Maybe if we can narrow it to people who keep coming back to the well, not to mention we'd like to know if any of the Digger's victims are among the subscribers to Cahil's site, then-” “It's a catch-22, I tell you. Without that list, no court will give you a warrant, but you can't get that list without a damned warrant,” Strand assured her. “Trust me. I've worn myself out pleading for it.”
“ You're dealing with local judges. We'll get our top echelon at Quantico on it,” J.T. assured Strand.
“ Owens, can you drive me to the airport?” Jessica asked.
“ Of course.” She detected a note of happy anticipation in his two-word response.
“ I've got to hook up with Eriq Santiva and meet this guy Cahil, face-to-face.”
“ Wish I had ten minutes alone with him,” commented Strand. “Or at very least help in his interrogation, but I'm not feeling so well, and doctors tell me I need another operation, so I'll be sticking close to home.”
“ Sorry to hear it. Your insights have been extremely helpful, Max.”
“ Just get the confession, Dr. Coran.”
“ Do you think you can get a confession out of him?” asked Owens.
“ With this in my possession”-she held up the formaldehyde-filled vial in which the tissue found in Cahil's refrigerator floated-”we might have the leverage needed to shock him into confessing, yes.” Making certain the cap was properly tightened, she placed it again inside her medical bag.
“ Are you sure you can take that without it having been put through the chain of evidence process?” asked Owens.
“ For once, the kid's right,” added Strand. “You break chain of evidence nowadays and you'll get an O.J. result.”
“ I know you're right, Strand, but I need something to scale and gut this guy with, and this… this is perfect. So, since we conducted the search and seizure under a federal warrant, I'm officially declaring all evidence goes directly to Quantico. That makes our lab there responsible for the chain of custody. We'll take everything but the dog and cat remains, and should a body be located here, you guys can process it and ship it to Quantico.”
“ Leaving us with an animal-cruelty case against Cahil?” asked Owens. “Thanks a heap.”
Strand held back a laugh. “Let Fromme choke on that.”
“ Exactly.” Jessica did laugh.
“ A wise move, Dr. Coran. Do an old detective a favor. Put that bastard away forever this time, will you?”
“ I'll certainly do my best.”
After Jessica Coran got on a flight, leaving New Jersey and the “estate of Rheil” as J.T. had jokingly referred to Cahil's house, Owens and his men canvassed the place another time, while J.T. packed the computer for shipment. Meanwhile, Max Strand oversaw the grid out back to determine if any fresh graves had been dug. Enlisted to help were cadaver dogs. As the dogs worked, Strand wondered again if dogs and other animals had this Island of Rheil in their heads. He asked Owens what he thought of the notion, but Owens said he'd just as soon not give it any more thought.
Strand felt a pull, a kind of fixation on the question. If animals did not, it might prove interesting; if they did, it might prove there could be some credence to the whole idea of where the soul resided, and if not in this small cross of tissue, then where?
With the search turning up nothing untoward in the backyard, Strand said his goodbyes to everyone and walked to his car. Earlier, when Owens was busy and J.T. was occupied, Strand had taken one of the cat brains from the refrigerator. He now drove off with it beneath a coat on the passenger seat beside him. When he got to Ash Pine Park, only blocks away, he stopped the car and got out. He reached in and took hold of the cat brain. Discarding the foil wrapping, Strand held the fist-sized walnut-shaped organ over a water fountain, thawing it under the water. He next pulled out his Swiss Army knife and began hacking away at the little brain. He easily opened up the two hemispheres and began searching for the Rheil tissue inside the medulla ob-longata. These many years of chasing Daryl had left him with some knowledge of where to cut.
