“Partially, yes, although extremes like that wouldn’t necessarily be evident unless he already had a tendency in that direction.”
“In other words,” Jake said, “he’s already crazy, and all those big words make him crazier?”
The doctor chuckled. “I wouldn’t put it exactly like that, but in layman’s terms, it’s a fair interpretation.”
“So how can all this help me find him?” Jake said.
“I’m afraid it might not be all that helpful. Adam is highly intelligent but unpredictable.” The doctor sighed. “What makes this case disturbing is that Adam, when behaving normally, is rather a likable young man. He seems to be in a struggle with himself, and I believe that’s why he doesn’t remember his actions on occasion. He has periods with either no memory, or a hazy recollection of certain events. His subconscious is at work, suppressing his memory of incidents abhorrent to his normal personality.”
“He’s a complex person,” Jake said.
“A very complex personality, indeed.”
“What about medications?” Jake asked. “Other than what he now takes, is there nothing different he can try?”
The doctor shook his head, his shock of blond drooping. He brushed it back again. “Adam hasn’t responded favorably to any of the usual medications.” He raised his hands as if in surrender. “We’ve tried everything as well as a variety of combinations. His situation has worsened since his father died, and there seem to be no answers.”
“According to Detective Corning, there’re some new, more aggressive medications,” Jake said.
“Yes, there are, but they’re costly, and as I’m sure you’re aware, the Thorburns are not in the best financial position. Additionally, there’s no guarantee he would respond favorably to any of them.”
Jake looked at the doctor, struggling to find an answer in all he heard. He was getting a lot of information but didn’t see how any of it could help him find Adam Thorburn.
“I understand Adam likes solitude,” Jake said. “During your sessions with him, did he give you any indication of places he liked to go to be alone?”
“He wanders off occasionally,” the doctor said. “But for the most part, he prefers to stay home, generally in the isolation and privacy of his bedroom. His withdrawal has been more pronounced recently—again, since his father died—and I believe it also stems from his childhood history of being bullied for being different.”
“What significance do roses have to him?”
“He loves growing roses. It brings him peace. To him, it’s the only source of beauty in an otherwise ugly world.”
“Dr. Zalora, did Adam ever mention any love interest to you?” Jake asked. “Anyone specifically?”
The doctor shook his head. “He often expressed his desire to find someone, but he also realized that in his condition it was impossible. It’s a source of sadness for him.”
“His first murder was Nina White,” Jake said. “The counselor at North Richmond High. The police have a theory Adam had a secret crush on her and killed her because he couldn’t have her.” Jake paused. “Do you think that’s a possibility?”
“I can’t say, either personally or professionally, but it’s a possibility. I’ve been unable to find out what goes on in Adam’s mind when he’s in an aggressive mood.”
“The second victim was a janitor at Millfield Elementary School, the primary school Adam attended,” Jake said. “Do you see any significance in that?”
The doctor pursed his lips a moment. “Adam hated school, and he might be taking his hatred out on anyone connected with school. They might not have been targeted personally, just by association.” Dr. Zalora looked at his Rolex.
Jake leaned forward. “Anything else you can add that might help find Adam?”
“I think we’ve just about covered it.” Dr. Zalora stood. “I have to rush. I have other appointments.” He came out from behind the desk and held out his hand. “Please let me know if you find Adam.”
Jake stood and shook hands with the doctor. “Thank you for your time. I’ll be sure to let you know if I have anything positive to report.”
Dr. Zalora smiled politely as Jake turned and left the office. The doctor had given him a lot to think about. It helped him understand more about what they faced, but he wasn’t sure how any of it would lead to finding Adam Thorburn before he killed another innocent person.
Chapter 25
Wednesday, 1:21 p.m.
ANNIE HAD ARRANGED to interview the Thorburns’ neighbor, Mabel Shorn, at 1:30 in the afternoon. Virginia Thorburn’s closest friend promised she would be available at that time, no problem, she was home most of the day anyway.
Number 114 Mill Street wasn’t much different from the dwellings surrounding it—a small clapboard house, cheaply built and rundown. Annie pulled her Escort into the gravel driveway, stopping in front of a detached single-car garage, built many years ago to match the design of the house. The wooden garage door sagged and likely hadn’t been opened for years.
She picked her handbag up off the passenger seat and stepped out, moving around the rear of the car to the side door. The inner door was open, and the aluminum screen door rattled as she tapped on it. A woman got up from the kitchen table, leaving her cigarette in the ashtray, and came to the door.
Mabel Shorn was scrawny, all skin and bones, her track pants barely held up by her small, bony hips. Smoke trailed from her thin mouth as she pushed the door open. She brushed back a strand of long dyed-red hair and motioned with her head for Annie to come in.
Annie stepped inside. The woman had already moved back to her spot at the table, reaching for her smoke. She took a drag as Annie pulled back a hard wooden chair and sat down, setting her handbag on a free spot on the crowded table.
She held out her hand. “I’m Annie Lincoln.”
The woman gave Annie’s hand a weak shake and blew smoke in the air. “Mabel,” she said, her voice hoarse from too many cigarettes. “Want coffee?”
“No, thanks.”
“Want a beer?”
Annie shook her head and Mabel shrugged. She picked up her coffee mug, downed the last swallow, and set it down with a clunk, pushing it back into the rest of the mess on the table.
“Police were already here yesterday,” Mabel said. “Asked me a bunch of questions about Adam. Couldn’t tell them much.” She shrugged. “Not much to tell.”
“I realize that,” Annie said. “But thanks for seeing me anyway.”
“Might as well. I’m not busy.” Mabel turned her head and gave a loud yawn, sucking her cheeks deeper into her already gaunt face. She dug around on the table, flipped a magazine aside, and found a business card. “Detective Hank Corning was here.” She waved the card. “Said I should call him if I think of anything.”
“I know Detective Corning,” Annie said. “He’s a good cop.”
“Seems like it,” Mabel said. She gave a lopsided grin and tossed the card on the table. “Nice looking, too.”
Annie smiled, paused, and cleared her throat. “As I told you on the phone, we were hired to find Adam Thorburn.”
“It’s a bit of a shame, that is,” Mabel said. “Doesn’t seem like the type to go off and do something like that.”
“You’re aware Adam is schizophrenic?” Annie asked.
“Sure, I know he’s nutty from time to time, but never have I seen him hurt nobody.” She shrugged and took a drag of her cigarette, blowing the smoke in a thin line over Annie’s head. “Course, I seen him fighting with some neighborhood punks once or twice. They started it, though. Can’t leave the kid alone, it seems.”
“How long have you known Adam?” Annie asked.
“Since he was a little kid. Going on ten years now I guess. That’s how long Ed and me been here.” She jerked a thumb. “Ed works at the steel mill.”
“Considering the amount of time you’ve known Adam, do you have any idea where he might be?”
Mabel turned her eyes upward, picking at a
tooth with an extra-long, painted fingernail before speaking. “I know he takes off once in a while. By himself. Virginia tells me sometimes he’s gone all day and comes home late. Not sure where he goes, though.”
“Have you seen him in the last two days?”
Mabel butted her smoke in an overflowing ashtray. “Nope. Virginia tells me he’s gone off. She don’t know where either.”
Annie nodded thoughtfully and took a deep breath. “If you recall the night Adam took the car out, Monday evening, Virginia was here with you. Did you happen to hear Adam leave or come back?”
Mabel gave a hollow laugh. “Didn’t hear nothing. Ed was working overtime, some kind of emergency at the mill, so me and Virginia had a few beers.” She grinned. “I wasn’t feeling much pain that night.” Her face sobered. “Virginia told me the next day what happened. She was kicking herself something awful for leaving Adam alone. She said he felt down and now she feels guilty.”
“He’s an adult,” Annie said. “She can’t be responsible for everything Adam does.”
“Sure enough,” Mabel said, yawning again. She sat forward. “She ain’t like me, you know. She’s got a bit of class. More refined I guess they say. Sure we get drop-dead drunk once in a while, but she’s more of a lady if you know what I mean. No pretenses either. She is what she is and I am what I am.” She sat back and chuckled. “But we get along okay.”
Annie smiled politely. “It’s always nice to have a good friend.”
“We’re closer since her husband died. Guess she has more time on her hands now and the booze helps her cope.” She lit another cigarette and took a couple of long drags. “Her husband worked at the mill too, you know. Got killed there. Some kind of an accident with the machinery. Killed him instantly.” She shook her head. “I tell Ed he better be careful. Could happen to him.”
“How long ago was that?” Annie asked.
Mabel frowned and bit her lip thoughtfully. “Guess it’s going on a year now or thereabouts.”
“Have you noticed any changes in Adam since that time?”
“Can’t say as I did, but I wouldn’t notice. I don’t see him a lot, you know. Like I said, I hang out with Virginia but the kid don’t come around much.”
“Do you think your husband, Ed, might know where we can find Adam?”
“Nah. Him and Adam don’t talk. Ed works hard, you know. Comes home from work and wants to put his feet up, relax, have a beer.” She shrugged. “He deserves it. Works his butt off all day for crappy pay.”
Annie cleared her throat. “Do you know if Adam ever had a girlfriend?”
Mabel threw her head back and laughed, quickly covering her mouth. “I guess it’s not funny. Poor kid. I don’t think any girl would go near him. Not for long anyway. Not with his problems.” She shook her head. “Nope. Far as I know, he’s never had a girlfriend.”
Annie felt like she wasn’t making much headway in finding out where Adam could be hiding. She’d run out of questions and hoped Jake did a little better. She opened her handbag and removed a business card, handing it to Mabel. “You can get ahold of me here any time.”
Mabel took the card and set it on top of Hank’s card.
“Please let me know if you see Adam. Or let the police know. It’s important we find him right away.”
Mabel nodded. “I’ll call you if I see him. Like I said, Virginia’s a good friend and I got nothing against the kid, but if he’s going around killing, it sure ain’t a good thing.”
Annie stood and picked up her handbag. “Thanks for your time,” she said.
The woman saw her to the door and pushed it open. “Sure hope this all works out, Annie. It was good to meet you.”
Annie smiled, waved a hand, and stepped outside, making her way to the car. She sent Jake a text message to tell him she was on her way, then started the car and drove toward home.
Chapter 26
Wednesday, 1:45 p.m.
JAKE DROVE SLOWLY up and down the streets surrounding the Thorburn residence. According to Dr. Zalora, Adam Thorburn preferred to be at home whenever possible. It seemed likely Adam would never wander far from the only home he’d ever known. And though Dr. Zalora said Adam liked to be alone, there was little doubt he had to surface eventually.
With the entire city on the lookout for the fugitive, his only source of food and other necessities would be his mother’s house.
Jake turned onto Steel Road and pulled over. On the left, houses similar to the rest of the neighborhood lined the street. To his right, a vast area housed the steel mill. Set on a score of acres, the mill employed hundreds of workers, many from the immediate area.
Vast smokestacks reached into the clouds, spewing out smoke, darkening the sky. Massive cranes dotted the skyline, moving rolls, coils, and raw materials to and fro. A faint smell, like rotten eggs—sulfur—permeated the air.
A flatbed truck exited the two-lane road leading into the mill. It rumbled past, carrying a load of colossal beams destined for a construction site somewhere in the city.
Jake reached into the backseat for a pair of binoculars and trained them on the sidewalk running down one side of the long street. A few pedestrians trod the concrete walkway. Some were workers, swinging a lunch box or paper sack, on their way to the afternoon shift at the mill. Others perhaps were out for a stroll, or heading to a neighbor’s house to enjoy a cup of coffee and an afternoon of gossip.
He wound down his window, moved his glasses to the left, and gazed past a house to the adjoining property behind it, focusing on the rear of the Thorburn residence. Through the powerful lenses, he saw the rosebushes lining the back wall of the dwelling.
He scanned the neighborhood in all directions, training the glasses on anything that stirred, then turned back to the Thorburn house.
Leaning forward, he squinted through the lenses. Something moved. He sharpened the focus. The rear basement window swung open and Jake held his breath.
It could be Adam.
A figure squirmed from the window and stood, a grocery bag in one hand. Jake focused his binoculars on the face. It was Adam, no doubt.
He watched the figure stoop in front of a rosebush a moment, then stand, lope across the rear of the house, and disappear from view.
Jake tossed the binoculars onto the passenger seat, and the Firebird roared to life when he turned the key. The wheels spun on the soft shoulder, then caught on the asphalt as he swung the vehicle into a sharp U-turn.
He rounded the block, headed to Mill Street, and turned quietly onto the road. He continued at an idle, keeping a close eye out for the fugitive.
Adam was nowhere in sight.
He drove the entire block, scanning the sidewalks and properties until he reached the intersection, and then turned right and headed back to Steel Road.
His quarry had cut through a neighbor’s property and was now approaching the sidewalk, the grocery bag swinging in one hand. Still two hundred feet away, Jake touched the gas and the car surged ahead.
Adam moved into the street, took a few steps, and stopped halfway across. He turned his head and froze a moment, staring at the car bearing down on him. Then the fugitive leaped into a run, crossed the street, and dashed toward the steel mill as Jake ground the Firebird to a stop on the shoulder and jumped out.
He charged ahead, his long legs cutting across the gravel and weeds. Adam approached one of the many ancillary buildings that dotted the property and disappeared behind it. Jake followed, spun around behind the structure, and stopped. Adam wasn’t in sight. He could be hiding behind any of the buildings, maybe inside, or long gone.
Jake glanced around and listened for sounds of his quarry, straining to hear above the constant whine of machinery, rhythmic thumping, and screeches of metal on metal that came from the main building close by.
There were dozens of places to hide and scores of paths to freedom. Jake circled the nearby buildings, scouring the area, then continued toward the back of the property and approached a set of railro
ad tracks.
The engine of a powerful locomotive labored under a heavy load as it moved gradually forward, screeching in Jake’s direction. He stepped across the tracks and looked in both directions as the train lumbered past.
A crash sounded a distance away when a crane dropped a load of scrap onto a stockpile, soon to be turned into molten metal.
Jake ran forward, his feet crunching on the gravel yard as he raced toward the rear of the property. The sounds of the mill lessened, becoming background noise, white noise, as he moved further away.
He stopped at a chain-link fence, ten feet high and barbed at the top, designed to keep the curious from wandering into danger. This was the absolute edge of the city. An empty field lay beyond, unused and overgrown, and a mile further on, a dark line of trees could be seen.
Then on the other side of the fence, fifty feet away, Adam was plodding up the fence line, his head down as he moved toward Jake. He had made it around or through the fence and appeared to be circling back.
Jake glanced up. There was no way to climb over; the barbs at the top would stop him. He crouched down and waited. Adam still came, now twenty feet away.
Five feet away, the fugitive panted from the exertion of the chase, his breathing labored. So close, but out of reach.
Jake stood. “Adam Thorburn.”
The fugitive stopped quick, his mouth open, staring wide-eyed through the links of the fence. He turned suddenly, ready to run, then stopped and spun back, his brow furrowed. He glared at Jake and spoke cautiously, his eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”
Jake studied the young man’s face. He didn’t look like a vicious killer, but Jake knew from past experience, looks can be deceiving.
“Why’re you chasing me?” Adam asked with a puzzled frown.
“The police would like to talk to you.”
Adam scowled. “I have no wish to talk to them.”
“You can’t run forever, Adam,” Jake said.
“How do you know my name?”
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