left of her head was pasted to the refrigerator. The thing is… ' He paused and took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. 'The thing is, she had a newborn. The baby had been playing in the other room, but it found her. Crawled across the damn apartment. It was nursing on her when we showed.' He lowered his head. 'That's the kind of thing you're supposed to see in a war. Bosnia, or some village in Vietnam. Not in an American city.' He shook his head. 'Not here.'
A few cars pulled up front, blue lights flashing. Coming in the open front door without knocking, Yale announced his arrival with a sharp snap of his gum. He was dressed for the office at a Wall Street firm. Behind him, Dalton looked more aptly like someone roused in the middle of the night. His stained tie was jerked hard to one side, Rodney Dangerfield style, and he wore unmatched socks.
David followed them silently back to the bedroom. Yale appraised the scene silently, then gestured with two fingers for David and Dalton to follow him into the bathroom. He leaned into the shower and turned it on as hot as it went. The head sputtered a few times, then the water turned cloudy. Using his pen, Yale flicked the head to the side, and the water sprayed onto a bar of soap. It fizzed, then dissolved rapidly under the alkali.
'Looks like our boy had plans for your pretty face,' Dalton said.
'No,' David said. 'He knows I've been unscrewing that showerhead every time before I turn on the water. That's what he wants-my anxiety.'
Yale worked his gum as they headed back into the living room, where Jenkins was just signing off a radio call. 'Everything clear on Peter Alexander,' Jenkins told David.
Yale threw open the front door and nodded, and the Scientific Investigation Division poured into the house, toting bags and boxes.
Yale lowered his hard, cool eyes on David. 'I'm gonna take a look around,' he said. 'Then why don't we have a chat at the barn. Get out of these boys' hair.' He turned to Jenkins. 'We got it from here.' Yale winked at Jenkins, and Jenkins headed slowly for the door.
'Officer Jenkins,' David called out. When Jenkins turned around, David said, 'Thank you.'
Jenkins nodded once before ducking outside.
Chapter 65
Waiting in the back of the detectives' generic sedan while Yale, Dalton, and the SID went over the house, David paged Ed on his cell phone. Ed was seemingly at a club or bar of some sort when he called back, leaving David to wonder when, exactly, he slept. In the background, Gloria Gaynor's 'I Will Survive' blared. For Ed to hear him, David had to raise his voice. Ed grew upset once David described the night's events, displaying an endearing sense of responsibility.
'I just got the security equipment delivered this afternoon. I was gonna install it at your house tomorrow. I've been on a stakeout all night. Fuck, I'm sorry.'
'It's okay,' David said. 'We can get it done today. Nothing truly awful happened. Besides, this might give us a good lead.'
The sky was just beginning to lighten when Yale and Dalton emerged. On an ordinary day, David would just be getting ready for work. At a stoplight, they pulled alongside Dr. Woods, the lethargic gastroenterologist, in a BMW. His eyes first found the removable police light on the dash, and then he did a double take at David in the backseat. David raised his hands together, as if they were handcuffed, and waved. Woods's jaw was just beginning to drop when Yale pulled forward, leaving him at the stoplight.
David told the detectives about the picture frame and said he'd added Peter to his list of potential victims. Dalton threw a weary look in Yale's direction. 'Captain's been chafing at all the OT as is. We're gonna have to kiss some serious ass to get another unit for Peter Alexander.'
Yale took a turn a little too fast. 'Pucker up.'
When they pulled up to the station, David waited patiently to be let out. The LA Times dispenser showed a color photo of Don's fallen body in the ER waiting room, David looming unpleasantly in the background. Front page. It was too bad that no media had staked out David's house through the night; they might have seen Clyde breaking in.
They headed directly upstairs; David was relieved not to have to deal with the contentious desk clerk. Yale's and Dalton's desks were pushed together so they faced each other as they worked. A stained coffee mug at the edge of Dalton's desk proclaimed world's greatest mom. Next to it were the film reels of the fear study.
David gestured to the reels. 'Did you take a look at those yet?'
Dalton sat back down heavily. Yale pushed his fingertips together and pressed them over the bridge of his nose. 'Late last night,' Yale said softly.
Dalton's thumb fidgeted on his cheek. 'The shit they did to those poor little bastards… ' he said. 'No kid should have to go through something like that.' A series of crayon streaks stained Dalton's shirt near the pocket, and David thought again of Dalton's picnic at the Academy. He found something poignant in the crayon streaks, as he did in Dalton's rumpled shirt, though he wasn't sure what or why.
'Are you done speaking with the other subjects?' David asked.
'A few we're still running down. Nothing's rang the cherries.'
'He's so withdrawn,' David said. 'I'd say it's a long shot that he's had real contact with anybody.'
'Aside from you,' Yale said. He flipped through his ever-present notepad. 'He used surgical scalpels on the bird. Correct?'
'Yes.'
'Any special kind?'
David shook his head. 'He had plenty of medical supplies at his apartment. Maybe he took them before he fled. The needle he wielded at Diane-I saw a similar one in his car. For all we know, he's got a Dr. Mengele funhouse in his trunk.'
'You were right about the urine sample,' Yale said. 'Our guy at County Med said his kidneys were clearing a lot of the stuff. He estimated something like a 2.3 blood level. That mean anything to you?'
David nodded. 'That's bad. Really bad. But if we're correct in our assumption that he's no longer taking lithium, it'll be lower by now. It must be, for him to have driven over and broken in.' He paused and moistened his dry lips. 'Some pretty dexterous maneuvering.'
'Why didn't he attack you? He's bigger and certainly a more capable fighter.'
David suspected the latter remark was intended as a dig, though he found it merely accurate. 'I think he's more interested in scaring me. First the torture tape, then the attack on Diane, then this. The phonetic graffiti on my car is probably intended to humiliate me. Diminish me further.'
'Fits your theory,' Dalton said. 'Lucky for you, huh?'
'Actually, I'd be thrilled to figure out a way to make him come after me more violently. Better likelihood of catching him.'
Dalton stood up and ran a hand through his already tousled hair, his cheap button-up shirt pulling untucked at the side. He chuckled to himself. 'You've got balls, Doc,' he said. 'I'll give you that.'
'The key is to instigate him consciously and intelligently,' David said.
'I'd have to say you've been doing that from the get-go.'
'But if I could provoke him in a way we could channel… '
'Then what?'
Before David could answer, Yale did. 'We could designate his next victim. The question is: How do we place a fitting stimulus to prompt him to make a move?'
Dalton sat back down, the effort pushing a grunt out of him. 'Female cops going UC as nurses?'
'But where? We haven't turned up shit over in his neck of the woods, and as you said, he's gotta know we'll nail him if he steps on Med Center grounds again.'
'A nurse might be a step back for him,' David said. 'He's already attacked people further up the hierarchy of influence at the hospital.'
'Maybe he'll go after that bitchy chief of staff. Who's on her?'
'Bicks and Perelli,' Dalton said. 'They'll have it covered. Perelli's the Police Olympics freehand shooting
