Blood Memory

Kaiser looks honestly perplexed. “Then why does he want to talk to you now? It seems a strange time for him to choose to renew a casual acquaintance, don’t you think?”

“Ask him that!”

“He doesn’t want to talk to us. He wants to talk to you.”

Suddenly I know why Kaiser has come. “You want me to talk to him, don’t you? To Malik.”

The FBI man’s face betrays nothing. “Do you want to talk to him?”

“I’m not answering that.”

“Why not?”

I shake my head angrily. “Don’t play games with me, Agent Kaiser. There’s no right answer here. If I say I want to talk to Malik, you suspect I was involved with him. If I say I don’t, you ask ‘Why not?’ like I’m hiding something. Do you want me to talk to the guy or not?”

Kaiser holds up his hands in apology. “I’m coming off like a jerk here. I’m sorry. Why don’t we sit down for a minute?” He gestures at the kitchen table.

When I remain standing, he takes a chair and waits. I look at Sean, who shrugs and sits to Kaiser’s right. After a moment, I sit opposite the FBI man.

“I know this situation is difficult,” Kaiser says. “But it’s nothing compared to what’s about to come down on you outside that door. We’ve had two murders in three days. The media’s in a frenzy. If they find out Malik asked to talk to you, that’s bad enough. If they find out about”-Kaiser indicates Sean and me with a nod of his head-“you can pretty much kiss your careers good-bye.”

“Why is that?” Sean asks, sounding defensive. “So we’re having an affair. That doesn’t have anything to do with our work.”

Kaiser looks down at my table, which is covered with crime-scene photos and copies of police reports.

“Shit,” mutters Sean. I can tell from his face that he can’t quite believe this is happening. He’s thinking of his wife and kids. His retirement. I feel more alone and isolated than I did last night.

“I’m more sympathetic to you guys’ situation than you might think,” Kaiser says. “I met the woman I’m with now during a high-profile murder case. I wasn’t married at the time, but I have some insight into that problem, too. Okay? But right now, the thing for us to do is focus on this case. If we solve this case, a lot of shit gets resolved with it.”

“How did you know about us?” Sean asks. “How did you know I was here?”

Kaiser throws him a look that says, Give me some credit, then turns to me. “You’re right, Dr. Ferry. If you’re amenable, I’d like you to talk to Malik. The judge is almost certainly going to order Malik’s arrest today for contempt of court. He’s flat-out refused to give up the names of any of his patients or their records. I’d prefer not to arrest him yet, but there’s tremendous political pressure to force some kind of break in this case. We’re already in an adversarial relationship with Malik. Before we jail him and make a bad situation worse, I’d like to learn everything we can from him. Because he’s asked to speak to you, we have a unique opportunity to do that.”

“But…?”

“A meeting like that is risky, and in more than one way. Before we go ahead with it, I need to speak very frankly to you. No room for hurt feelings.”

John Kaiser is only three or four years older than Sean, but he appears to possess a depth and honesty that make Sean seem a boy beside him. A weariness that has nothing to do with the simple passing of years. Yet Sean is no boy. He’s a veteran homicide detective who’s witnessed much human misery. What did this FBI man experience that aged him this way?

“I understand,” I say, oddly excited by the prospect of speaking to Nathan Malik in person. “Ask away.”

“Your father served in Vietnam, correct?”

“Yes.”

“One tour? During 1969 and 1970?”

“Yes.”

“He was later murdered in 1981?”

I resist the urge to shift in discomfort. “That’s right. I was eight.”

“I tried to get a copy of your father’s autopsy record, but the State of Mississippi appears to have lost the original. Was there any aspect of your father’s murder that could possibly relate to the murders happening here over the past month?”

“You mean bite marks? Like that?”

“Any similarity at all.”

“Nothing. Are you suggesting that my father knew Nathan Malik in Vietnam?”

“It’s possible. Maybe even before Vietnam. Nathan Malik and your father were both born in 1951, both in Mississippi. Different towns, it’s true-separated by two hundred miles-but their paths might have crossed before Vietnam or after they were in-country.”

Sean looks impatient. “What do their army records say? Was it possible?”

“If only it were that simple,” says Kaiser. “I’ve seen Malik’s file, but Luke Ferry’s military record is sealed by the Department of Defense until 2015.”

I feel a sudden dislocation from the world around me. “I can’t believe that.”

“What the hell are we dealing with here, John?” Sean asks.

“No way to know yet.” Kaiser looks unhappy. “But it’s safe to say this case is a lot more complicated than I first imagined it was.” He turns to me. “I know it’s upsetting to have your personal life pried open, Doctor. But if you can-”

“Ask what you need to,” I tell him. “I know there’s worse coming.”

Kaiser looks as if he’d prefer not to venture down the path he’s about to take. “After you and I spoke yesterday, I called Dr. Christopher Omartian. To find out what he remembered about Malik.”

I close my eyes and steel myself. Chris Omartian tried to kill himself because of me. He probably had plenty to say, none of it good.

“Dr. Omartian said some unkind things about you,” Kaiser confirms. “I sensed that he has some issues of his own, particularly as related to you. But I need to ask some questions based on what he said.”

“Go ahead.”

“He suggested that you might be manic-depressive.”

“I’m not. But I have been diagnosed as cyclothymic.”

Kaiser gives me a questioning look. “Cyclo-what?”

“Cyclothymia is a mild form of bipolar disorder. I have symptoms of mania that fall below the cutoff for true mania. They call it hypo-mania. The diagnosis depends on the frequency and severity of your manic episodes.”

The FBI man clearly wants more specific information.

“Look, I suffer from depression. I also have occasional episodes of manic behavior. The periods alternate with varying frequency. Sean has suffered through these swings for almost two years. I can be suicidally depressed, then a week later, flying. I think I’m invulnerable, I take crazy risks. I do not-very-nice things sometimes. And sometimes-not very often-I don’t remember those things.”

Kaiser glances at Sean, who surprises me by saying, “It’s not as bad as she makes out. She’s been doing really well.”

“Dr. Ferry,” Kaiser says carefully, “is there any possibility that you’ve ever seen Dr. Malik as a patient?”

“What?”

“I have to ask you that.”

“Why? Do you think I have multiple personalties or something?”

“I’m just trying to put together a picture.”

“Nathan Malik and I don’t fit into the same picture! I don’t know the guy.”

“All right.” Kaiser steeples his fingers, his eyes uncertain. “Do you feel that you’re stable enough to handle a meeting like this?”

I start to answer, but he holds up a hand. “I’m thinking of your panic attacks at the murder scenes. There’s no telling what kind of head games Malik might try to run on you.”

“Where would this meeting happen?”

“Malik suggested his office. It’s not far from here, actually. On Ridgelake. Just off Veterans’ Boulevard. He