The Clinic

tied her, began the interrogation. She claimed all she knew was that a psychology professor from the U had hired her to pick me up, slip a Mickey in my drink. That she hadn't known why. As if that excused it. I said which professor and she tried to hold back on me. I covered her mouth and pinched her nose the way I'd done with the waitress and she blurted out the name. Which I already knew, because what other psychology prof hated me?”

“Did she say how she knew Devane?”

“Yes. She said Devane had hired her.”

“For sex?”

“Games she called it. She said Hope was into kinky stuff- bondage. Had seen her dance somewhere up in San Francisco and picked her up- sick, huh? A psychologist that twisted.”

“Then what?”

“Then, I untied her and said thanks for being honest with me, baby. To disarm her psychologically. Then, I took her back outside in front of her house, told her I was going to let her go if she kept her mouth shut. She looked so relieved, she actually thanked me, tried to kiss me, showing tongue. It reminded me of how she'd kissed me in my car just before the lights went out. No one was on the street, so I took hold of her hand, held it still so she couldn't touch me. Then I gave her the knife.”

“Where?”

“First in the heart, because they'd broken my heart by looting my body, robbing me of my entire future. Then in her cunt because she'd used her cunt to trap me. Then I put her on the ground and turned her over and stabbed her in the back. Just like she'd done to me. Right over her kidney.”

He reached behind and winced. “Never really knew where the kidney was before.”

“Still painful?” I said.

“Sitting is painful,” he said. “How much more time do we have?”

“Ten minutes. So once you'd learned Hope's name from Mandy it was time to take care of her, too.”

“You bet.”

“And you used the same strike pattern. Heart, vagina, back.”

“Absolutely,” he said. “The only difference was that Hope tried to struggle. Not that it helped her, but it did mess me up. I'd wanted to get the fucking surgeon's name out of her but I was afraid she'd manage to break free and scream, so I just did it.”

“When did you learn the surgeon's name?”

“Not until last week, when that kid attacked him and the news said he'd known Devane. Light bulb on. Two plus two. So I started watching him, too, and got a bonus. The punk.”

“Casey Locking.”

“My other judge. I was never really sure if he was in on the plan but I suspected because he was sucking up to Devane. Once I knew, he was history. I got his file from the psych department, learned his address. I already knew where Cruvic lived because that's where I'd seen him with the punk- his house up on Mulholland. So I started watching Locking.”

“Saving Cruvic for last.”

“You bet.”

“Tell me about Locking.”

“Another easy one- it's so easy.”

“Probably harder to act it out.”

“Definitely… where was I?”

“Locking.”

“Locking. I followed him home, walked into the house, and shot him.”

“Why a gun and not a knife?”

“Three reasons,” he said, pleased to answer. “A. I know cops are into M.O. and I didn't want it to be obvious that the same person had done him and the girls. B. Stabbing was for the women, it just didn't feel right for him, and C. I'd already gotten rid of the knife.”

“Where?”

“Tossed it off the Santa Monica Pier.”

“You could have bought another one.”

“Hey,” he said, grinning. “Starving artist.”

“What about the photos framing Locking's body?”

“Another bonus. Showing the world what she was like- what they were all like. Do you believe that stuff? Sick.”

“So what was your plan? To get Cruvic?”

“Him and the asshole using my kidney. I figured to learn everything, eventually. Perform a little surgery of my own, take back what was mine.”

The deputy said, “Two minutes.”

Muscadine mouthed Screw you to his back and smiled at me. “So how're we doing?”

“Fine,” I said. “I appreciate your forthrightness.”

“Hey, only way to go. Tell the truth, it feels good to finally unload.”

Oster was just outside the prison's main door. The line was still long.

“Well?” he said.

“Well what?”

“I instructed him to cooperate.”

“He did.”

“What do you think?”

“Gruesome.”

“I'll say. So does it fit?”

“Does what fit?”

“Is there severe mental anguish?”

“Definitely,” I said, shaking my head. “No shortage of anguish.”

“Good,” he said. “Great. Gotta go, we'll talk more.”

He hurried into the jail.

Instead of returning home, I drove to a restaurant on Sixth Street where I ordered lunch- nice big one: Caesar salad, T-bone steak medium rare, home fries, creamed spinach, their best burgundy by the glass.

While I waited for the food, I opened my briefcase and took out a yellow pad.

As I sipped the wine, I began.

PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION:REED MUSCADINEPRISONER #464555532EXAMINER: ALEXANDER DELAWARE, PH.D.

I wrote for a long time.

Jonathan Kellerman

Jonathan Kellerman is one of the world's most popular authors. He has brought his expertise as a child psychologist to numerous bestselling tales of suspense (which have been translated into two dozen languages), including thirteen previous Alex Delaware novels; The Butcher's Theater, a story of serial killing in Jerusalem; and Billy Straight, featuring Hollywood homicide detective Petra Connor. His new novel, Flesh and Blood, will be