Now, though, he had another body on the slab to contend with. The rapist himself.
Reginald Forrester had been taken into custody nearly a week before. He had been thoroughly searched at that time, including all body cavities. If he had smuggled something in, some sort of weapon to inflict harm on himself, he’d hidden it in a place that only God had known about. But there was no forensic evidence of any kind to show he had punctured, stabbed, or slit himself in any way.
There were no other signs of trauma either. He had a fading bruise on his hip, from when he’d been kicked in the skirmish leading to his arrest, some contusions around his wrists from the troopers who had put the clamps on him and then jockeyed him into custody in a way that couldn’t quite be described as gentle. But there were no ligature marks around his neck, however. He would have had nothing to hang himself with as it was. He’d been in buttoned fatigues with Velcro shoes on his feet.
The peculiarities of Forrester’s condition, however, turned Clark towards other scenarios.
Forrester had lost some of his hair. He had begun to go bald during his week-long stint in the jail. He also appeared to have lost weight. An examination of his bowels showed that he’d eaten next to nothing in the days leading up to his death. Clark had also learned that the Deputy Corrections Officers had noted Forrester’s lack of appetite and generally distressed condition.
When Clark completed the toxicology report, it confirmed his mounting suspicions. Forrester had died of a slow poisoning. He would need to run a couple more tests for it to be conclusive, but it was looking like something called Thallium, which was a highly toxic compound that was odorless, colorless, and could be absorbed through the skin.
Usually, significant contact with Thallium, unless treated by Prussian blue, the antidote, would render its victim dead within three to five days. Absorption into the body, typically through potassium uptakes, wrought havoc on the cells. The drug laid siege to proteins like cysteine residue, and the body basically broke down. The peripheral nervous system was disarrayed and became unruly.
Clark had heard of victims of Thallium poisoning experiencing horrific hallucinations. The nerves in the feet making a person feel like they were walking over burning coals. The hands and arms might signal alarms as though they were being mangled by a machine. There were many possibilities.
If Reginald Forrester had committed suicide, Clark wondered if the man had known this road through hell. Maybe he hadn’t cared. Or maybe someone had killed him.
Usually, Clark effectively divorced himself from feeling anything about the bodies he examined – be they victims or suspects, and there were a lot of both. But he thought about this man, who the police were saying killed women, who kept children from their mothers, who reveled in perversion and torture, and wondered how he had experienced the effects of the Thallium, hoping it had been most unpleasant. Clark imagined Forrester had met his end while feeling that his lips, tongue, and the muscles of his face were being eaten alive by a swarm of insects.
* * *
Olivia Jane was picked up at the house in Boonville, the one owned by Reginald Forrester. Brendan had suggested she might be found there. He didn’t expect her to flee entirely, not yet, but he’d suspected she would put some distance between herself and the Sheriff’s Department. She had no idea that Brendan had learned about the house in Boonville, a place probably used as a halfway house for many of the girls on the circuit. She immediately requested legal counsel.
Healy leaned on a crutch and offered a debriefing to Taber and Skene. Delaney was not present. Colinas was allowed to observe.
They sat in the Sheriff’s office as the sun waned outside.
“She claims she is innocent, that she had no knowledge of Rebecca’s involvement with Forrester, or that Forrester had any kind of relationship with her.”
Skene was brusque. “We have the murder weapon in her house, but the defense is going to claim that it was planted there. Probably by Kevin Heilshorn on his way through the kitchen during the shooting incident. We need a confession out of her.”
“I think she’ll talk to me,” Brendan said.
Skene looked doubtful. The Sheriff seemed more hopeful. “Take Colinas with you,” he said.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT / FRIDAY, 7:37 PM
Olivia was being held in the smaller pod where women were housed. She was wearing orange inmate fatigues with “ONEIDA” on the back. A corrections officer was in the room with them, and her lawyer, a pugnacious-looking man named Carl Guth. They sat at a table with two empty chairs opposite them.
Colinas held the door open for Brendan. He walked through on his crutches. Colinas pulled the chairs out and helped him to sit down.
“Hi, Olivia.”
“Hello, Brendan.”
He tried to arrange himself comfortably in the chair, but it was a challenge.
“Look where this friendship has got us.” He smiled, but she didn’t appreciate his attempt at humor. “This was my first case,” he continued. And look at me. Should’ve stayed where I belong.”
She was impassive.
Brendan studied her face. Her mouth was set in a grim, determined line. Her eyes were gelid.
“I just wanted you to know that I think you killed Rebecca Heilshorn. I think that you came in the room after Forrester and put her to death. And I think that I saw you in the video.”
Olivia blinked. She seemed incredulous that Brendan was making these statements. Her lawyer, Guth, leaned over and spoke quietly in her ear.
Olivia said, “Aren’t you supposed to have an observer present when you question someone like this? I could have you written up.”
“This is not an interrogation. This is just a visit. I’m just sharing what I think. And I also think that Reginald Forrester’s relationship with Rebecca made you jealous.”
“This is absurd. I haven’t seen or heard from Reginald Forrester since he was my professor in college.”
“I still think you’re the killer.”
The lawyer leaned over again, but Olivia Jane pushed him away. She smiled, though her face was ashen and weary. “You’re trying to play a little psychological poker with me, Detective Healy. I’m a psychotherapist. You think I’m going to reveal something?”
“Have you got anything to reveal?”
“You’re a depressed alcoholic who is obsessive and anxiety-prone. Your neglect as a husband and parent led to the death of your spouse and child. Since then you have become delusional. You’re what we call in lay terms ‘a wreck.’ I’m a respected psychotherapist with an Ivy League background who has worked within this community for eight years. And I have worked with the police for three of those years. But you have the audacity to come in here with your unfounded ideas, and treat me like a piece of shit, questioning me.”
“I’m not questioning you. Just telling you what I think. The system protects that. Just like it protected your withholding, so it protects my espousing. So, listen. You said before that you wanted to help me. If I’m wrong about you, then show me why.”
She scowled.
Brendan held her gaze as he shifted in his seat, crossing his legs. Beside them, Colinas watched with rapt attention. Normally Colinas sat like a linebacker squatted – that was how his wife put it. But here he was in the presence of well-educated individuals and he was trying to affect an air of decorum.
“I think that Reginald Forrester used you,” said Brendan. “He exploited a deep psychological connection – something which formed when you were just a young woman.”
She looked at him flatly. But Colinas thought he saw some small crack of light in her mortar.
“He’s a monster, you know,” Brendan continued. “He’s not human.” Brendan could remember everything, with gruesome clarity, that had transpired when he had been in that building with Forrester. He was sure he’d carry it to his grave. “We’ve got him on video having sex with the victim. But, you knew that. Maybe you didn’t know that we’ve got his boot print. And w
ith the CSI team back at the Bloomingdale house for another pass, I’m sure we’re going to turn up more. Maybe something under the plastic-wrapped mattress?”
Olivia looked away.
“You’re going to post bail. I’m sure your counsel has informed you of the charges of aiding and abetting. Very flimsy charges. But I’m about to open a new case on you, alleging that you’re the actual perpetrator of Rebecca’s murder, that it was you who stabbed her to death with your own knife. And I’m going to further allege that Kevin Heilshorn knew it was you – that when you met with him the morning of his sister’s murder, he knew who you were, and he discovered the truth for himself. He came to your house and opened fire on you, not me. So, if you have something else to tell me, something that would explain you had nothing to do with Rebecca’s death, no knowledge of Forrester’s intentions, you need to tell me now.”
He looked across the table at her. It was hard to imagine that it was the same woman he had sat with in her house – twice. The first time had erupted in the tragedy with Kevin Heilshorn, but their second encounter had actually been pleasant. Almost as if they were starting something together. As if, after eight long years, he was going to be truly able to start a new life. A new town, a new job; maybe even a new relationship.
He’d always had a problem being presumptuous.
The lawyer spoke up. “Okay, this is coming to an end.” He stood, expecting Olivia Jane to do the same.
But she remained seated. “Why don’t you ask Forrester about this yourself?”
“I can’t. He’s dead. There’s an internal investigation going on in my department. Alexander Heilshorn is being watched around the clock, with extra security. Everything is upside down. They found poison in Forrester’s body – that’s what killed him. Your life is in danger, too, and you know it, don’t you? Let me help you.”
Her face was drawn, growing paler by the second. She hadn’t known about Forrester’s death. He watched her absorb it, and then he continued.
“This is the story the prosecutor is going to spin: You came in after Forrester and you put a knife in Rebecca’s body. You stabbed her multiple times. The motive that will stick is that you were recruiting girls for the escort service, along with Forrester, and Rebecca was one of them. She had grown unruly. Too many children lost; too much pain. No matter how you threatened her, she was going to blow the lid eventually. Her father was involved, but compromised, not going to talk. But when she started meeting with her brother you began to worry. So you had Forrester show her who was boss, by making that video. Only when she didn’t respond the way you wanted, you killed her.”
“Enough,” said Guth. “Olivia, don’t say another word.”
Brendan leaned forward again, oblivious to the searing pain in his upper body. He was not on the full-strength painkillers, because they were addictive. Brendan had spent the last two weeks building up a tolerance for the piercing bolts of pain that coursed through him like jags of barbed wire tearing his flesh from the inside.
“Damaged women, coming to you from abusive families, violent husbands. Or maybe just foolish young girls wrapped up in the sexual hedonism of today. Maybe they’ve been captured by the rampant libido at work here in the existential vacuum.”
She opened her mouth, maybe to respond to his attempt at philosophizing, but Brendan barreled forward.
“The D.A. is going to put you at the scene. They’re going to put a murder weapon in your hands. I remember fretting over those forty seconds of silence on the 911 call. The forty seconds the killer lingered downstairs. Doesn’t take that long to come up the stairs, but it’s not enough time to do anything significant, like write poems on photographs. It’s just enough time, though, to let you in, to have a little conversation with you before going upstairs.”
He was close to her. He could smell the stale linen of the fatigues she was wearing. He could smell her fear beneath. Or maybe it wasn’t fear. Maybe it was something else.
“You know,” he said, “I marvel at you a little bit. You’re good. So by-the-book. Never willing to bend. Except in treating your former college roommate. That type of dual relationship is unethical. Which is how I explained to myself why you hid it. Maybe your heart got the better of you. But it just didn’t stay put in my mind, and I came to see how you were using the veneer of ethics to keep your real relationship with her concealed. You also used it to conceal your real connection to Kevin. I don’t think he knew who you were – not when he first saw you, but I think Rebecca had been telling him things. But you, I bet you came right out and told him exactly who you were. And that you would kill women and children if he said anything.”
Brendan took a deep breath. His ribs hurt, but he paid them no mind.
“And as your attorney here full well knows, all your confidentiality with Rebecca and Kevin is going to be countermanded by this investigation. There’s nowhere to hide any longer; we have an ironclad case.”
“Guard,” said the lawyer, Guth. “Let us out of here, now.”
The Deputy Corrections Officer, Robertson, glanced at Colinas and then at Healy. Taber had already called and spoken with him to insure full cooperation. No one was going anywhere without his say so. Carl Guth could sue the entire Department – it didn’t matter. They were going down, anyway.
Brendan remained leaning forward, very close to Olivia. His eyes searched her. “Who is Titan, Olivia?”
Her face had taken on an ashen cast. Her eyes were vapid. Her lower lip seemed to quiver, just a little.
“Alright,” said Guth. “Then let me out.”
Robertson promptly escorted the lawyer out of the room.
Finally, Brendan sat back. He tried to give her space. He was patient. After nearly a minute passed with her looking down at the table between them, Brendan grabbed the crutch propped beside him and Colinas rose and stood at the ready.
Then she spoke. She leaned forward, and she whispered in Brendan’s ear.
Then she sat back. Her face was an inscrutable mask.
Brendan suddenly felt hot. The room seemed too small. He needed air.
And then he got out of there.
* * *
Colinas was driving, but his mind seemed to be anywhere but on the road. They turned a corner and an angry driver shook his fist at Colinas for coming too close.
“Watch the road, Rudy.”
“What did she say?”
Colinas looked over at Brendan.
“Healy, Jesus. There’s something huge going on here. Something we can’t even touch. What did she say?”
Brendan continued to look out the window. He shook his head, as if trying to come to terms with something.
“She said, ‘Titan is the government.’”
Colinas turned his head. The car swerved. “What?”
Brendan glanced at him. Colinas resumed watching the road, and righted their course.
“She said,” Brendan amended, “‘Titan is so entwined with the government that you’ll never get it free.’ I distilled it.”
The men fell silent as Colinas absorbed what Brendan had told him. Then Colinas said, “It’s amazing you’re still alive.”
Brendan found himself remembering that Heilshorn had said the same thing.
He hoped Heilshorn was doing okay. Men his age didn’t fare well in lock-up. Brendan told himself he would do whatever he could to help Alexander get back on the right side of things again. He believed that whatever the man had done, he’d done for the best of reasons.
It was disconcerting, though, what had turned up from the little bit of digging Colinas had done while Brendan was recovering. Heilshorn’s accountant turned out to be an interesting person after all. A subpoena opened up Heilshorn’s accounts. Heilshorn had made substantial investments in a company which patented advanced medical technology. It was called Titan Med Tech. The records also showed that Heilshorn, a registered voter, had donated hundreds of thousands to a gubernatorial candidate not of his party. Money was flowing between
Alexander Heilshorn and some very influential people.
“What – I mean what exactly does that mean? ‘Titan is the government?’”
“It means, for one, that Leah is probably the child of someone who would never want his paternity known. Probably Aldona, too.”
“No. We got a match for Kettering on the Aldona baby.”
Brendan’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yeah, I haven’t had time to tell you. Aldona is the baby Rebecca had with Kettering.”
Brendan took out a cigarette and lit it. It was a challenge with his bandaged hand, but he was going to give himself a little time with this relapse.
“This is huge,” Colinas breathed. “Is that why Forrester is dead? Because of Titan? Because they are – what, top brass? I mean, an escort service, prostitution, porn, all of this – and the government is supporting it? Protecting these black markets? Is that possible?”
Brendan looked off in the distance, in the direction of Albany. He thought of how the city had looked from the windows of the darkened Business School building. “I think that’s a very dangerous question.”
Colinas spun the wheel and they turned down a side street. He grew thoughtful for a moment.
“You know, you hear crazy shit.”
“Like what crazy shit?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Like Bin Laden. Like the attacks of 9/11 were meant to bankrupt the economy. And look at us.”
Out the window, Brendan observed the single-story homes with junk out on the front porches.
“And you hear about how the US is the biggest provider of funds to the World Bank. You know, how we kind of prop up the world economy.”
Brendan waved some smoke out the window. “That great divergence is ending. China and India are going to have stronger economies than the U.S. very soon. We won’t be number one for long.”
HABIT: a gripping detective thriller full of suspense Page 34