by J. Fritschi
“Is that what you think?”
“Look man, you admitted yourself that it’s farfetched. I’m just saying, you’re going to have a hard time convincing anyone that the Sterling Killer walked in here and didn’t even know it.”
Mike rubbed his hand over his wound under his knit cap. He knew Big Pete was right. His theory did sound crazy, but his instinct told him that it was the only logical explanation. Did the Sterling Killer knock the sense out of him?
“Just do me a favor and check the father’s alibi and background and let me know what you find.”
“What are you going to do?” Big Pete asked with a tilt of his head.
“I’m going to contact a criminal psychologist and get her professional opinion.”
chapter 43
BACK AT HIS government issued metallic desk, Mike sat upright with wide eyes and slid his mouse rapidly across the pad as his monitors flashed to life. The multiple personality theory, as much as he knew it sounded crazy, was the most promising lead in the Sterling Killer case to date. There was no other explanation as to how the father could know the things he knew and have the visions he had unless he was at the murders and if he was at the murders, whether he knew it or not, he was the Sterling Killer.
The only thing that troubled Mike was the fact that Father John really thought he was dreaming. It didn’t even cross his mind that maybe he was committing the crimes in his sleep. He genuinely wanted to help catch the killer and didn’t realize he could be incriminating himself. Was it possible? Mike needed to talk to someone who was an expert on criminal psychology and see if they thought his theory was plausible.
Mike remembered the criminal psychologist he saw being interviewed when he was in his hospital room. He couldn’t remember her name, but he did remember her face. She had silky smooth skin, cascading brunette hair and a mischievous twinkle in her brilliant green eyes. She was well spoken and obviously highly educated. She would be the perfect person for Mike to talk to. Now he just needed to track her down.
He remembered that she was interviewed by Ross McGowan of Channel 2 news so Mike Googled Channel 2 and clicked on the stations web-site hoping that it would have a list of guests that were previously on the show. For some reason he thought he remembered her being a PhD or a professor. That’s right! He remembered thinking that he never had a professor as pretty as she was, but then again, he wasn’t smart enough to go to Stanford University. That’s it! She’s a professor at Stanford University. Mike hated Stanford from his football days at U of A, but he respected it.
Mike clicked on a link for previous shows and then on a link for a list of the names of the previous guests of the show. The list was short and he found her name immediately. Kate Wilson, Criminal Psychologist, Stanford University. That’s her. Kate. It had a nice ring to it. Mike copied her name and title into the Google search box and hit find.
There were thousands of matches, but on the first page was a link for Stanford’s Psychology Department. Mike clicked it and a picture of a brick building with a lush green lawn appeared in frames on his screen. Mike admired the photo for a moment. It reminded him of his college days.
On the left hand side of the page, in red wording on a white border, was a link for Criminal Psychology that he clicked. The page for the Criminal Psychology Department popped up and again, on the left hand side in red letters, was a list of the professors’ names and titles. Kate Wilson, PhD Criminal Psychology. There she was. She wasn’t even hard to find.
Mike clicked her name and watched as her picture and bio appeared on his monitor. He examined her picture, but it was disappointingly misleading. Her hair was pulled back and she was wearing thin rimmed glasses. Why would she do that to herself? He guessed that she must have been trying to project a professional image, but she looked stiff, like someone was shoving a stick up her ass. It was almost like looking at a completely different person than the one he remembered seeing on TV. Nevertheless, he needed to speak with a criminal psychologist and she was the only one he knew of.
Mike read her bio and was more than a little impressed. She earned her undergraduate degree from Yale and her PhD from Harvard. She worked for the FBI in criminal forensics before joining the administration at Stanford University. How does someone get to be so damn smart? Her hobbies included skiing, tennis, Yoga and hiking. Yoga…she could probably get her body into all kinds of different positions.
There was a phone number on the top of the page for the criminal psychology department and Mike reached over and picked up the receiver and dialed it.
“Stanford University, criminal psychology,” a nasally female voice said. “How can I help you?”
“Yes, hi, can I speak to Dr. Wilson please?” Mike asked with his most courteous voice.
“May I ask who is calling please?” the woman, who Mike was now picturing as an older lady with silver hair wrapped in a bun and angular spectacles that sat on the end of her long crooked nose, asked guarded.
“My name is Detective Mike McCormick. I’m with the Oakland Homicide Department,” he replied in an official, yet friendly tone.
“May I know what this is about?”
“Yes I’m calling in regards to the Sterling Killer murders.”
“Please hold.”
Soft classical music played in the background as Mike waited patiently for Dr. Wilson to answer. He couldn’t help but smile at the way the lady handled him so matter-of-factly. Her comical voice repeated in his head. May I know what this is about? Who talks like that?
The line clicked and a delicate yet confident voice answered. “This is Dr. Wilson. May I help you?”
“Yes, hi Dr. Wilson. My name is Detective Mike McCormick,” Mike responded in a weird, authoritative voice that he never heard himself use before. What was he doing? “I’m with the Oakland Homicide Department and I’m working the Sterling Killer case.”
“Yes, I know who you are Detective. I’ve been following the case. How is your head?” she asked cordially.
“Please, call me Mike,” he replied as he rubbed his head with a wince. “I’m fine, although I’ll be doing much better once we catch the Sterling Killer. I don’t enjoy my role as the infamous detective when innocent young ladies lives are at stake.”
“It doesn’t take much to go from infamous to hero,” she told him encouragingly. “Either way, you’re never as bad or as good as the press portrays you. The more they can use you to sensationalize the story, the more papers they can sell. Don’t worry about the press; just keep doing your job like you always have.”
Mike paused and chuckled softly to himself. That was the best thing anyone could have said to him. It reminded him of what his dad might have told him and of course she was right. “Thank you Dr. Wilson,” Mike responded taken aback. “That is very kind of you.”
“Please, call me Kate.”
“Kate it is then,” Mike responded feeling at ease as he leaned back in his chair. “Do you have a few minutes that I can pick your brain about the case?”
“Yes, I have about 5 minutes before I have to go teach my next class. What would you like to know?”
“What can you tell me about someone who has multiple personalities or a split personality?”
“Why do you ask?” she replied intrigued. “Do you have someone in mind?”
Mike let out a moan. “I don’t know. It’s just a theory. I need more information to form an opinion.”
“Dissociative Identity Disorder is not my field of expertise,” she warned him. “But I am familiar with it. What do you want to know?”
“Is it possible for someone who has multiple personalities to not realize they have other personalities?”
“Sure,” Kate replied. “Most times the host person does not realize they have alter personalities for years. It’s the alter personalities that know about the host personality and observe the host as if they were another person.”
“Is it possible that the host might remember something the alter personality
did while it was occupying the host’s body?”
“Actually, yes. Some people who have Dissociative Identity Disorder have multiple personalities that live in constant conflict with each other.”
Mike let out a sigh. “Right, but in that case the personalities are aware of each other,” Mike acknowledged somewhat frustrated. “What I want to know is if the host could recall what another personality did and not know where that memory came from?”
“What do you mean?” Kate asked puzzled.
“Let’s say the host personality went to sleep at night and the other personality then took over, got out of bed and made a three course dinner,” Mike explained hypothetically. “When the host personality awoke the next morning, would he recall that the other personality got up and made a meal?”
“I suppose he could,” Kate replied hesitantly.
“Would it be possible that the host would not be aware of the fact that they actually got out of bed to make the meal, but instead mistook the act of cooking the meal as a dream?”
“I’ve never read of a case where a person mistakes the actions of another personality as a dream, but I suppose it is possible,” Kate reluctantly admitted. “Why don’t you tell me about this theory of yours?”
Mike took a deep breath. “I have a person who claims to have dreams where he watches the murders happen through the eyes of the killer.”
“Do you believe him?” Kate asked in disbelief. “You don’t think he’s making it up to gain attention?”
“I have reason to believe that he doesn’t think he killed these women, but I don’t believe that the ‘dreams’ he has are really dreams either,” Mike explained cautiously. “I think it is possible that when he goes to sleep, his alter personality, the Sterling Killer, goes out and makes himself a 3 course dinner, so to speak, and when he awakes, he mistakes the memory he has of killing these women as dreams.”
There was silence on the phone and Mike knew he was on to something. “You think the Sterling Killer is this guy’s alter personality?” Kate clarified in stunned disbelief.
“It’s a possibility that we’re looking into,” Mike said in a congratulatory tone.
“Who is this person?” Kate asked in disbelief.
Mike leaned back in his chair and rubbed his head. “That’s the best part,” he explained hesitantly. “His name is Father John Carpenter. He’s a monk.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“We’re checking his background and his alibi, but he claims he sees the murders as they happen in his dreams.”
“This sounds like your typical psychic using the information that is out there to claim that they can help solve the case.”
“I would agree,” Mike said cautiously. “Except that he knows something about the crime scene that has not been released to the public.”
“What is that?”
“The Sterling Killer leaves a symbol smeared in the victims’ blood and he was able to draw it for me, he claims, based upon what he saw in his dreams.”
“Couldn’t he have got the symbol from someone in the police department?”
“We’re looking into it, but there are only a few people who know about it.”
“It seems to me there are only three options here,” Kate summarized. “Either someone leaked the symbol to him and he is using it to gain notoriety or he has a multiple personality who is the Sterling Killer or he is actually having dreams where he sees the murders.”
“Exactly,” Mike said relieved. “Which one of those options seems the most likely to you?”
“I think it is highly improbable that he is telepathically channeling the Sterling Killer in his dreams. I think it is most likely that someone leaked the symbol to him and he is using it to make a name for himself as a psychic.”
“Yes, but it is possible that he has an alter personality who is the Sterling Killer, is it not?”
“It’s possible that a host could mistake an alter personality’s actions as their dream, especially when the host doesn’t realize he has multiple personalities and his last waking memory is of going to sleep. Why does he think he is having the dreams?”
“He is a man of faith and believes that God is giving him the dreams so that he can help catch the Sterling Killer.”
“Have you told him about your multiple personality theory?”
“Not yet,” Mike explained. “I wanted to talk to you first and get your professional opinion.”
“This is almost too good to be true,” Kate surmised skeptically. “Where is the Father now?”
“He went home to be with his terminally ill father. We have him under surveillance in case he tries anything, but we don’t have any evidence to hold him and I didn’t want to risk alienating him and losing his trust. Is there any way we could arrange a time for you to meet with him and give me your professional opinion?”
Mike could hear her soft breath reverberate in his ear as she checked her schedule. “How about tomorrow morning at 9:00 am?”
“That would be great,” Mike replied emphatically. “I’ll set it up with the Father and plan on seeing you then. Should I call you at this number if he is not able to be here?”
“Let me give you my cell number instead,” Kate said with a sweet whisper and then repeated her number.
“Thank you for your help,” Mike said sincerely. “I really appreciate your time and expertise.”
“If this Monk turns out to have a multiple personality that is the Sterling Killer, it is I who will be thanking you. It would make for the most fascinating case study.”
chapter 44
THE NEXT MORNING Mike awoke in the faint darkness of his room suddenly and at full alert. As he rolled over to look at the digital 5:16 glowing on his clock, he realized that for the first time in a long time, he did not wake up tired and groggy. Quite on the contrary; he felt refreshed and reinvigorated. He lay quietly in his plush bed staring at the wood ceiling fan that was slowly twirling above him. Slowly and enjoyably he began to stretch his muscles, starting with his feet and legs and working his way up to his back, neck and arms.
Usually he would have reluctantly dragged his ass out of bed, but today he hopped up enthusiastically. Gone was the loss of equilibrium stemming from the head injury and coma. He rubbed his hand lightly over the shaved stubble until he felt the bulging of the scar tissue like a caterpillar molded into his skin. It was still tender to the touch, but was healing much faster than he anticipated. He felt strong like he could take the world in his hand, crush it like a wad of paper, throw it up in the air and punt it across the universe.
It was the same invincible feeling he used to have when he was younger, before all of the late nights of partying and dragon slaying took away his zest for life and turned him into a wondering participant who would’ve just as soon preferred to be a spectator on the sideline. How did he allow that to happen?
Today he was going to kick some ass. He could feel the blood coursing through his muscles as he put on his t-shirt, shorts and shoes and went for a jog.
It was damp and foggy in the early morning dawn as the alternating sound of his rubber souls wicked on the street. Everything looked different and new as though seeing it for the first time. Mike had lived in this neighborhood for almost 10 years and went jogging on the narrow tree lined roads that wound their way up to the foothills of Mount Diablo many times before, but today he noticed for the first time the different ranch style houses that were hidden behind the tall Oak trees and lush green shrubs. How did he not notice them before? He was amazed at the rolling grass yards of the neighborhood that until today, he idly went by without taking notice.
And then it dawned on him; it had been 5 days since he drank or did any drugs. That was a long time for him and he felt great. This must be what people who don’t party feel like every day. Mike always thought it was strange that there were people who didn’t drink and he pitied them in a way because, as he liked to joke, when they woke up in the morning, that was as good as th
ey were going to feel. Now he understood why they didn’t need to drink. Damn, if he knew sobriety felt this good he would have quit drinking a long time ago. It had been so long since he experienced pure, unencumbered sobriety that he forgot how awe inspiring life without drugs and alcohol could be. He didn’t even crave them. He could get used to this. He rounded the turn and headed down the home stretch and then trotted to a walk in his driveway with his hands on his hips.
This window of sobriety was all that he needed to remind himself how enjoyable life could be when he wasn’t passing through it in a haze of mind altered numbness. He could go without partying and what’s more, he was excited to be sober. Everything was better. His mind was clearer and sharper and his body was stronger and more agile. Even his heart felt like it had been given a tune up and didn’t have to work as strenuously as it normally did. This was how he wanted to live the rest of his life. If everyone with a drinking problem could get the brief gift of sobriety that Mike was given, he was sure that they all would quit.
He was certain that his sober mental and physical state would also help him solve the Sterling Killer case and he was eagerly anticipating Dr. Wilson meeting Father John. He had a preeminent feeling that today things were going to fall into place. It was going to be a great day. He walked inside to get ready for work. Today was the first day of the rest of Mike’s life and he was determined to make the most of it.
chapter 45
WHEN MIKE BOUNDED through the swinging doors of the homicide department at a little after 8:00 am, there were a few detectives sitting at their desks talking on the phone or clicking away on their keyboards. Mike strode through the room wearing a dark blue beanie cap and his normal attire of boots, jeans and a long sleeve button down shirt. He nodded and smiled at everyone who made eye contact with him and acknowledged a few people by emphatically pointing his finger at them. It was a glorious morning as he made his way over to the refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of water and then shut the door with his foot using a spin move as he proceeded over to his desk and logged onto his computer.