“Corinne’s mother mentioned that her drive for tennis dissipated when she got into high school,” Taylor said. When Ricard didn’t comment, she asked, “Would small things that normally wouldn’t be a big deal to you or me set this kind of person off?”
“Certainly. Someone so in control would have great difficulty in letting others take the reins. Unless she was compromised, to a point. Something that wouldn’t be rational. Like being in love.”
Well, that made sense. Taylor thought back to the first video she’d seen, with Todd and the two girls. Corinne was manning the camera. Perhaps she enjoyed the sex play, perhaps not, but by taking control of what the audience saw and felt, she took control of her situation with her husband. She was directing him, a thoroughly nontraditional role.
“Was there something in Corinne’s life that presaged this need for control?”
“Ah, sadly, Lieutenant, since we are only discussing a hypothetical situation, I can’t answer that. But someone with this level of need for stability might have a past that saw some sort of abuse, self-inflicted or external. With many young phenoms, their manifestation comes out in their talent. Once that talent is taken away, even something as simple as a parent telling the child he or she must go to bed now instead of studying their art could send a child of extreme gifts into a tailspin. They use their talent for control, just like an anorexic child uses starvation to whittle away her body. It’s all perception.
“Take that away, by force or necessity, and you’d have a child who couldn’t, or wouldn’t be able to survive without some sort of mechanism to control the behavior and desire.”
“Sexual promiscuity?”
Ricard gave a ghost of a smile. “Very good, Lieutenant. You’re catching on. Monogamous sexual promiscuity, another example of how distasteful anything indiscriminant could be to a child like this.”
“But that child would grow into an adult. I take it that she wouldn’t grow out of it?”
“Some do. Some don’t. Some follow their art, some, when separated from the one item that controls their identity, decline rapidly. They shrivel up, and ultimately end up institutionalized or dead. But that is only extreme cases. Most go on to lead productive, if not happy, lives.”
“Would there need to be a catalyst? Something that would send a person like this over the edge, make them do things they otherwise wouldn’t?”
“Yes, I believe you could say that. A life-changing event.” Ricard spoke pointedly, and Taylor began to understand.
“Was this pregnancy unwanted?” she asked.
Ricard nodded, but said, “I couldn’t say one way or the other about that. Corinne was a very regimented, controlled person.”
So, that was the problem. She had gotten pregnant and wasn’t thrilled about it. That was strange, for a young mother who was seemingly happy.
“Would an unplanned pregnancy be difficult for a woman who has to have control over everything? To the point that it would spark a pathological issue?”
“Nicely deduced, Lieutenant. In some extreme cases, an individual would have difficulty relinquishing control over their body in order to carry a baby. The individual might feel that the fetus is a foreign being and experience moments of hatred so profound that the only comfortable resolution is termination. Or, the individual may seek counseling to better handle the claustrophobic tendencies they are experiencing. High-level anxiety, overwhelming desire to escape, to effect a separation, yes, those things would need to be dealt with using extensive cognitive therapy, regression, relaxation and biofeedback.”
“Was Corinne having these problems? Claustrophobia about her pregnancy?”
“Now, Lieutenant, you’re treading too close to our hypothetical line again.”
“All right. What about medication?”
“Well, in the case of a pregnancy, the client would certainly be encouraged not to use medicinal means to handle the situation.”
“But Corinne chose the medicinal route. Why?”
Ricard glanced at the clock. “Oh my, Lieutenant, I’m afraid we need to wrap things up here.” She stood.
“One last question.” Taylor got to her feet too. “Would Corinne Wolff have been a danger to herself?”
Ricard straightened her glasses and pulled her tunic down so it lay tight across her hips. “She may have been. But I think it highly unlikely that she wielded the murder weapon and beat herself to death.”
Thirty-One
T aylor left the doctor’s office, head spinning, full of ideas and theories. A better picture was emerging of Corinne Wolff. Taylor knew that the best way to solve a murder was to know the victim. Chances were the murderer was someone in the victim’s sphere. The deeply personal nature of the beating, the accessibility to the house, all pointed to a killer bent on revenge and punishment. Ergo, someone Corinne knew. If Taylor could get to know Corinne intimately, she would find the person who killed her. It may have been Todd-the evidence against him was certainly damning-but it could have been someone else.
Since she didn’t have anything better to do, she decided to go ahead with her illicit day. She wondered if Julianne Harris would accept a phone call from her? Michelle Harris had obviously checkmarked the box that said Taylor wasn’t on their side, but if the mom hadn’t shut her out yet…She pulled out her notepad and flipped back to the first few pages. Yes, there was the number for the Harris house. She dialed it, fingers crossed on her knee. Julianne Harris answered on the second ring.
“Do you have news about my daughter?” she said without preamble.
“Mrs. Harris, thank you for taking my call. I appreciate-”
“I don’t want to talk about what’s been happening to you, Lieutenant. What do you need?”
Short and snappy. Taylor knew she was only going to have one shot at this. “Mrs. Harris, were you aware that Corinne was taking medication for anxiety?”
There was silence, then Mrs. Harris sighed deeply. “Yes,” she said.
“Do you know why she was so…anxious?” Taylor asked.
There was silence again. “Let me ask that a different way,” Taylor said. Mrs. Harris interrupted.
“No, Lieutenant, you don’t need to do that. Yes, she was anxious. She was having panic attacks about the baby. She wouldn’t tell me why, but I had my suspicions.”
“Which were?”
“I don’t want to defame my daughter, Lieutenant. I think it would be best if we stopped now.”
“Was Corinne having an affair, Mrs. Harris?”
Mrs. Harris gave an anguished whimper. “Oh, God. How did you find out?”
I guessed, Taylor thought. “Who was she involved with?”
“That I don’t know. I don’t even know for sure that she was having an affair. She was acting so strangely before she died. Erratic. Obsessed. I’ve only seen her like that one other time, over a boy she had a crush on in high school. They dated briefly, very briefly, and when he broke up with her, she collapsed. Sank into a deep depression, began writing letters to the boy, begging him to take her back. It was a phase, we snapped her out of it after a few weeks. Lately, though, she’s had that air about her. A mother always knows when something’s wrong with her daughter, Lieutenant. I don’t know any more than that.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Harris. You’ve been a huge help.”
They clicked off, and Taylor tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. Todd Wolff changed his story about when he had sex with Corinne the last time. He initially said they hadn’t had sex that week. An affair would explain the semen. The DNA wasn’t back yet, that would confirm or destroy Wolff’s claims. If Corinne was having an affair, who was her lover?
She made her notes, thought for a few minutes, then decided to keep pushing. Thalia Abbott was next on her list.
The bright morning sun created a glare off the midtown skyscrapers. Lost in thought, shielding her eyes, Taylor didn’t see the dark-haired man watching her from across the street.
