Mania

by Craig Larsen

  PART 6

  chapter 34

  Three days before Christmas, Nick was sitting on a steel cot in the Seattle jail, his head in his hands, his fingers buried in his unwashed hair. It had been a grueling period of days since Jackson Ferry had escaped from the hospital yard and killed Barnes. Nick had been transferred to the jail the day before, but only after undergoing an extensive psychiatric evaluation at Western State. The drugs that the doctor had been feeding him inside the ward were just now receding from his system.

  Nick looked up at the approach of footsteps. His eyes were ringed with dark circles, because he was still having trouble sleeping, and his vision was bleary. He was feeling much more alert than he had for some time, however, and he was able to track the blur of movement through the steel bars.

  When Nick saw Stolie, a smile spread across his face, and he stood from the cot to greet him. The detective had visited him the day before, too, and he had assured Nick that he would do everything he could to secure his quick release.

  “I have some good news for you, Nick,” the detective announced as he approached the cell. He turned to the guard on duty at a small steel desk just beyond the holding area and asked him to slide back the motorized outer doors. “The prisoner has made bail,” he told the guard. “I have the papers here. He’s to be released into my custody.” Stolie set the small briefcase he was carrying down on the floor and pulled a couple of loosely folded papers from his back pocket, then tossed them on the desk. “Just a few more signatures,” he said to Nick over his shoulder, “and I’ll have you out of there.”

  Nick watched the detective sign his name onto the forms. “Who paid my bail?” he thought to ask, clinging to the steel bars that still separated them.

  “No ‘thanks’? Just who paid?”

  Nick smiled. “You have no idea how grateful I am to you. It’s just that bail was set at five hundred thousand. I don’t know anyone with that kind of money.”

  The guard buzzed open the remaining door. Nick watched the detective grip one of its heavy bars and slide it back on its rails. He had to fight the urge to leap from his confinement. “Come on,” the detective said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  They were walking down the wide corridor when Nick realized how somber Stolie looked. “You’ve made yourself some real enemies in the department,” the detective said, as though he were answering a question that Nick had posed.

  “I imagine that means you have, too.”

  The detective flashed Nick a strained smile. “I suppose. But it’s not my head in the noose.”

  “So tell me, who paid for my release?” Nick asked him again as they approached the jail’s two-story lobby.

  “You have an appetite for some eggs and bacon?”

  Nick shook his head. “Coffee, maybe.”

  “You’re looking pretty damned thin.”

  “I haven’t felt like eating much.”

  “Okay, coffee, then.” The detective’s voice echoed through the tall, empty lobby as he pushed open the front doors. “Let me buy you a cup across the street before I let you go, and I’ll catch you up.” He looked up to measure how hard the rain was falling, then, hunching slightly, placed a hand on Nick’s shoulder and guided him down the concrete staircase.

  “So like I said,” Stolie began as he joined Nick at the bar lining the plate-glass window, handing him a coffee in a tall white paper cup, “you’ve managed to collect a number of enemies in the department. You might have passed your psych tests with flying colors and impressed the doctors over at the hospital, but as far as the lieutenant is concerned, you’re no less guilty today than you were last month.”

  “Lieutenant Dombrowski?” Nick asked.

  “Yeah, Lieutenant Dombrowski. He showed up at your bail hearing himself and personally begged Judge Fong to lock you up and throw away the key.” The detective smiled. “He thinks you’ve got us all fooled. You’re a psycho serial killer, and the last thing we should be doing is letting you out on the street. He doesn’t buy into any of the Dr. Barnes stuff. He’s even talking about a conspiracy between you and Ferry.”

  “What about all the drugs in my blood?” Nick pointed out. “What does he make of that?”

  The detective shrugged. “Says you could have been taking them yourself. Look, Nick, I don’t mean to be freaking you out with any of this. I’m only telling you because I think you should know. With Gutterson stepping down, Dombrowski’s been made the acting chief. The department is going to be watching you, making sure you keep your hands clean. I’ve got my orders, too. One false move and you’re back behind bars without bail.”

  Nick nodded. “Thanks. I appreciate the heads-up.”

  “Yeah, well—the truth is, it looks like you’ve made a few friends, too.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Your bail. The five hundred thousand. It was picked up by Sara Garland.”

  “By Sara?” Nick remembered her standing next to him in the doorway into Jason Hamlin’s room. Don’t touch me! Get away from me! He cringed, remembering the streaks of blood covering his T-shirt and jeans, the small chunks of gore that had been stuck to his hands and arms. He chased the image from his mind.

  “I haven’t spoken to her myself,” Stolie said.

  Nick remembered the horror in her eyes.

  “But she’s standing with you, Nick. I think she wants to see you again.” The detective took a sip of his coffee, then set the cup down and gave Nick a long, assessing stare. “Just keep in mind you’re out of jail on borrowed time. You’re not a free man yet. There’s an evidentiary hearing scheduled for January fifteenth—three weeks from now. After that, it will be up to the DA whether to take you to trial for Jason Hamlin’s murder. Your brother’s, too.”

  “That’s what the public defender told me.”

  “You’re going to have some pretty powerful people in the department gunning for you at that hearing.”

  Nick took the information in. Still untouched, his coffee was growing cold in his hand.

  “Myself, Nick, I’m going to do everything I can in the meantime to see that you’re not only exonerated, but that you don’t stand trial at all. As far as I’m concerned, we’ve got all the evidence we need right here.” The detective lifted the small briefcase he had been carrying onto the table between them.

  “My computer,” Nick said.

  “That’s right. You remember that insurance policy Sam bought over the summer when he borrowed your computer? It turns out Sam was exchanging e-mails with Barnes over the summer, too, and your laptop here automatically made a copy of all the e-mails he sent.”

  “The e-mails confirm that Sam and Barnes were working together?” Nick surmised.

  The detective tapped Nick lightly on the shoulder. “Your brother wasn’t very discreet. Barnes himself didn’t leave much of a trail, but your brother said enough so that we can pretty much piece the whole chain of events together. It’s just like you said—Barnes and your brother were testing their new drug on human subjects without their knowledge, and at higher doses the drug was causing some pretty psychotic behavior.”

  “I still have trouble believing that Sam would poison me.” The disbelief was evident in Nick’s voice.

  “He stood to make millions,” Stolie reminded him. “And for what it’s worth, as far as I’m concerned, the doctor was the ringleader anyway. You know what I discovered, Nick? It turns out the doctor had a vacation house on a certain island on the Puget Sound.”

  “San Juan Island?”

  “That’s right. Not as grand as the Hamlins’, but only a couple of miles away. I don’t have proof yet, but my guess is that Barnes was on the island the same time you were, the night of Hamlin’s murder. I’m heading up there myself this afternoon to question the caretakers at the Hamlin estate. Barnes set you up, Nick. Our forensic tests are going to find evidence linking him to the crime scene. Or maybe we’ll turn up something proving that Hamlin had found out about the doctor’s conspiracy. One way
or another, I’m sure we’ll be able to trace the entire scheme back to the doctor.”

  Nick closed his eyes, considering the idea. For weeks he had been haunted by the vision of a shadowy figure standing in Jason Hamlin’s room next to him, looking down at Hamlin’s mutilated corpse. He tried now to bring the image into his mind, but could barely hang onto it. Was it Barnes? He wanted to believe it, but he couldn’t be certain that he was remembering anything definite. As far as he knew, Barnes may well have been right. The shadowy figure he had seen in Hamlin’s room might have been himself. The drugs had been splitting his identity into fragments.

  “I don’t know,” he said, looking down at the cold cup of coffee cradled in his hands. “Sometimes I think I can remember someone there with me the night Sam was murdered. But then I can remember holding the knife that killed him myself.” He glanced at the detective. “And I think maybe I can remember standing over Hamlin’s body with a knife in my hand. Bits and pieces, you know? Things come back to me from those nights, but not everything. I don’t know. I just can’t remember.”

  The detective regarded him. “Maybe it will come back to you once the drugs are completely gone from your blood,” he said. “I hear the doctors are weaning you off them gradually.”

  “Some of them are pretty powerful,” Nick acknowledged. “You can’t just stop taking them. I’m feeling better every day, though.”

  “I’m sure it will make sense soon enough, Nick. And in the meantime, like I say I’ll do what I can to nail down your innocence.” The detective took another large swallow of his coffee, then pushed the briefcase across the table toward Nick. “Here you go. This belongs to you. We’ve copied everything we need from the hard disk.” He reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet, then pulled out a few twenties, setting them carefully on top of the black nylon briefcase.

  “I can’t possibly take that,” Nick said, looking at the money.

  Stolie smiled. “I can’t give you a ride back to your apartment.” He stood up. “Like I told you, I’m on my way back up to the island now. You’re going to have to catch a cab.”

  Nick was broke. He hesitated, then took the money and slipped it into his pocket. He didn’t know how to thank Stolie, so he didn’t try.

  In the taxi, Nick gave Laura Daly a call. The editor was relieved to hear from him. “I’ve been worried, Nick,” she said. “I was going to visit you today, to see if there was something I could do. From a legal standpoint, I mean.”

  “Sara bailed me out,” Nick informed her.

  The editor took in the information. “She’s more solid than I first thought,” she admitted.

  “I might still need your help, Laura.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Not immediately. Stolie tells me the police are still pursuing me, though. As far as Dombrowski’s concerned, the case isn’t closed yet.”

  “Barnes had his prints all over this thing,” Daly insisted. “The police have got to see that.”

  “Dombrowski’s never liked me,” Nick said. “He’s been dogging me from the start.”

  “We’ll talk once you’ve had a chance to rest. I know some lawyers who’ll love nothing more than to take Dombrowski on.” The editor wanted to reassure Nick. “We’ll see you through this. You can be certain of that.”

  “I don’t know why you’re doing this, Laura.”

  Daly ignored the implicit question. “So what’s next? Where are you now?”

  “On my way home.” Nick shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought maybe I’d try to see Sara.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Daly asked, too quickly. She hadn’t been able to disguise her apprehension, and Nick understood from her tone that it wasn’t for him that she was afraid. She was afraid of what he might do.

  “Don’t worry, Laura,” Nick said dryly. “I’m feeling better. I’m not going to hurt her.” He had managed to keep his voice light. He found himself wondering, though, whether he would ever be free from suspicion. In the end, if it came to a trial, his best defense might be that he wasn’t responsible for whatever he had done. “I didn’t kill anyone,” he said into the phone. He wasn’t talking to Daly anymore, he was talking to himself. “I couldn’t have.”

  “I didn’t mean—” Daly faltered. “I just meant the police will be watching to see what you do,” she said, trying to recover herself. “Especially if what you say about Dombrowski is true.”

  “I appreciate your concern.”

  “Just get some rest,” the editor said. “You’ve been through a scare.”

  Nick hung up the call. It had been more than a scare. Daly was right, though. What he needed now was sleep.

  chapter 35

  The rain had let up, and the asphalt was shimmering in weak sunlight. Reflections of the sky were trapped in puddles scattered across the pavement, as though the atmosphere had shattered, Nick thought, and lay in a million pieces on the ground.

  When Nick stepped from the taxi, Sara’s car was parked in the middle of the lot behind Nick’s apartment building, jets of steamy exhaust billowing from its twin tailpipes. His heart leapt in his chest when he saw her profile in the driver’s-side window. Sara turned to face him as he crossed the rain-soaked lot, and their eyes met through the tinted glass. Nick hesitated in midstep, nervous, anxious not to disappoint her.

  Sara didn’t roll down her window as he approached. Instead, she pushed the door open and flew into his arms. Her skin felt cool and soft in his hands, against his cheek. He could barely comprehend the intensity of her desire, but he didn’t question it. He needed her, too. Without Sara, he would have nothing left. “I didn’t expect you,” Nick said. “I wasn’t sure I was ever going to see you again.”

  Sara took a small step back from him, holding his arms in her hands and looking into his eyes, a slightly quizzical look on her face. “How can you say that, Nick?”

  Nick shook his head. A rush of words came to his lips, but there was too much he wanted to say.

  “I have faith in you,” Sara said. “I know you. You didn’t kill your brother, and you didn’t kill Jason. You’re not capable of it. I’m the one to blame. I’m the one who took you to see Dr. Barnes, and I’m the reason you trusted him. It’s unspeakable, the things he did to you.” She took his hands and lifted them to her lips. “I’m only glad that you’re still alive, darling. I can’t think what would have happened if that man—Jackson Ferry—hadn’t attacked Dr. Barnes. You’d be dead, Nick. And I’d be alone.”

  They stared at one another without speaking.

  “I’ll never be able to repay you,” he said at last, “for the money you posted for my bail.”

  Sara shrugged her shoulders. “This car’s worth three times the amount I had to put up to secure the bond. I would have put up a hundred times as much to get you out a day earlier.”

  Nick’s face was buried in her long silky hair. “I think I really do love you, Sara,” he said. “And it scares me.”

  “I love you, too, Nick.” She raised her hands to his shoulders and pushed him back from her, so that she could look into his eyes. “But it doesn’t scare me. It excites me.” She reassured him with a broad smile. Nick became aware, belatedly, of a rhythmic high-pitched tone emanating from the Mercedes. He turned to glance at the car, realizing that its door was still ajar and that Sara had left the engine running.

  “Aren’t you coming inside?” he asked her. “Aren’t you going to stay?”

  Sara laughed. “I didn’t come here to stay with you,” she said lightly. “I came here to pick you up and bring you home with me.”

  Nick looked at her in question. She had never once invited him to the house in Bellevue. The only time he had seen it was when he followed her there, that same morning that he had seen her disappear into the Four Seasons Hotel. Nick found himself overcome with memories of the two of them together in his small studio. Lying in bed. Waking up in the middle of the night to run downtown and find a place to eat. Sitting on the pathet
ic sofa reading, Sara’s head heavy in his lap. As dazed as Nick had become in the last weeks, these had been some of the most powerful, most meaningful moments of his life.

  “The house is mine now, Nick,” Sara said. “There’s no need for us to stay here in this ridiculous little apartment any longer. My mother is away, down in San Francisco with her sister. They invited me to come down, too—for Christmas—but I wanted to be here with you.”

  “I hadn’t realized.” It hadn’t crossed Nick’s mind that the estate would belong to Sara now that Jason Hamlin was dead. “Jason didn’t have any children of his own?”

  Sara frowned at the idea. “He was a bachelor until he met my mom. I told you that.” She leaned forward and gave Nick another tight hug. “Wait until you see the house, darling. You’re not going to believe how beautiful it is.”

  Nick glanced up at the windows of his apartment. “Maybe I should get a few of my things together,” he said. “I don’t know, some of my clothes. A toothbrush.” Relaxing, realizing how lucky he was, he laughed. “Are we going to be there long?”

  Sara tugged his hands. “I’ll stay here with the car. But don’t keep me waiting. Grab enough for a couple days. After that, we’ll go shopping. I want to wipe the slate clean, Nick. I mean it. I want to start fresh in every way.”

  Nick stood by himself on the pier behind the Hamlin estate. The view over Lake Washington, looking back at the city of Seattle, was extraordinary. The gigantic mansion dominated this corner of the bay. From where he stood, Nick was able to see a number of the other houses along the shore, set in lavish gardens, surrounded by lush evergreen trees. A seaplane like the one Hamlin had piloted to San Juan Island was descending toward the small airport in Renton, at the southern end of the lake. In the far distance Mount Rainier was crowned with a cap of white snow, blending into the clouds as the sky emptied of color.

  At his back, the grounds behind the Hamlin house stepped up from the pier on a series of terraces. A tennis court was carved so discreetly into the side of the bluff that it complemented the landscaping. A huge light blue pool could just as easily have been an elegant fountain. Nick had never experienced wealth like this before. He had never even imagined that wealth on this scale could exist. It seemed inconceivable that a single man could earn enough in a lifetime to own an estate like this one—let alone the house on San Juan Island and the vineyard in Napa, and who knew what else as well.