The Shadowed Mind

by Julie Cave

  Dinah thought about the murders of Lakeisha Tennant and Benjamin Steffan, and how the quote was relevant to them. Was the killer trying to prove some eugenic point about the worth of these individuals? There was a big leap from forced sterilization to murder.

  Dinah didn't even know if eugenics still existed today. At some point, it had clearly fallen out of favor with the legislators, but that didn't mean that there weren't supporters of eugenics still around.

  She called Detective Samson Cage, who answered groggily after several rings.

  "Do you know what time it is?" he asked her.

  Dinah glanced at her watch and saw that it was just after midnight. "Sorry," she said. "I didn't realize it was so late. I just wanted to let you know that I know where the quote comes from, but I'm not sure what it has to do with the murders."

  "I'm awake now so you might as well tell me," Cage said after a heavy sigh.

  Dinah explained the quote, the case from which it came and the famous justice.

  "Eugenics?" Cage said, when she'd finished. "That's a foreign concept to me."

  "Me, too," admitted Dinah. "I've been thinking that the murders are staged very precisely and the killer leaves a calling card. This indicates to me that the killer has a clear message. He's motivated by something — not rage or hatred, but something else. Perhaps his motivation has something to do with eugenics."

  "He's trying to rid the earth of all the defective people?" Cage said.

  "Just a thought. I'd better let you get back to sleep," said Dinah. "I'll see you tomorrow."

  Dinah re-read through the website from which she'd obtained the eugenics information. Something she'd read disturbed her and awoke a heavy feeling of self-disgust. There it was — eugenicists argued that undesirable traits such as poverty, mental illness, disability, alcoholism, criminality, and prostitution could be bred out of society.

  I have struggled with alcoholism, thought Dinah. Does that mean I'm one of the defectives? Would I have been considered an undesirable who shouldn't have been allowed to breed?

  She finally went to bed, but couldn't sleep. Instead she stared at the ceiling, thinking that society had taken full measure of her, and she had been found wanting.

  ****

  Despite his midnight wake-up call, Detective Cage appeared refreshed and well rested the following morning. They met at the local Starbucks as usual, and Cage brought with him a laptop that he used to connect to the Internet wirelessly.

  "So we're thinking our guy perhaps believes in these eugenics ideals," he told her. "He'd have to hang around with people who share those ideals. I'm willing to bet eugenics hasn't gone away. There must still be some advocates living among us, somewhere."

  Cage flipped the laptop around so that Dinah could see it. It was a website called Future of Life and it was a pro-eugenics organization.

  "I've looked through it briefly," said Cage. "It is reasonably benign, just articles about selective reproduction."

  "What is that?" Dinah asked, raising an eyebrow.

  "Not allowing people with low IQs to pass on their genetic flaws to the next generation and so forth," said Cage. "I found it to be pretty disturbing, but I guess some people don't. Anyway, the administrator of the site has authored a few articles himself and it didn't take me long to track him down."

  "Who is he?"

  "Edward Sable. By day, he runs a small organic supermarket. By night — who knows?" Cage lifted his massive frame from the table. "Want to pay him a visit?"

  Edward Sable had managed to cash in on the wave of health-conscious consumerism, where shoppers would pay inflated prices for natural and organic food. His supermarket was located on the edge of trendy Georgetown and was bright and clean.

  The sullen teenage cashier with sparkly lipstick and a dog collar around her neck directed them to an office at the back of the building. Dinah glanced out of a small window as they walked, which afforded a view of the parking lot. Snuggled next to the building was a brand new BMW 535, with the personalized license plate "SABLE." Obviously, he was doing pretty well for himself.

  The cashier must have reported their arrival, because the middle-aged owner opened his office door and came out into the hallway to greet them. He had longish grey hair pulled into a ponytail, wore trendy square-framed glasses, and sported a shirt that was a truly hideous shade of pink. "I'm Edward Sable," he said. "Please come in. What can I do for you?"

  "I'm Detective Samson Cage." He flashed his badge. "This is Dinah Harris, a consultant who works with the police."

  The office was small and spartan, with no personal furnishings of any kind. Detective Cage dwarfed the cheap aluminum chair on which he sat.

  "What can you tell me about a website called Future of Life?" Cage began, without preamble.

  Sable raised bushy grey eyebrows. "It's just a site of information, for people who are interested in or curious about eugenics. I post articles written by others and some written by myself for people to read. There is also a small book shop attached so that people can buy books on the subject online."

  "Articles such as 'Intelligence and IVF: The New Marriage?' " Cage asked, consulting his notebook. "And books such as A Complete History of Eugenics?"

  "That's right. I'm not sure that there is a problem with that." Sable leaned back in his chair as a show of relaxed confidence, but Dinah could see the tension in his jaw.

  Cage looked at him hard. "There's some pretty confronting stuff in those articles, Mr. Sable."

  Sable sighed. "I know that some of my views are deemed politically incorrect. But we live in a country with free speech. So I am free to speak my mind about the direction of the human race."

  "And what direction is that?"

  Sable locked his fingers together under his chin. "Human beings are the most highly evolved creatures on the planet. Yet we've overruled the most basic law of nature — survival of the fittest — by allowing members of society who are most definitely not the fittest to thrive. The human race is at risk of sliding backward unless something is done about it."

  "What is it you think should be done?" inquired Cage, his big shoulders tense.

  "We advocate the advancement of the human race through selective reproduction," said Sable grandly.

  Dinah snapped, "That's a fancy way of saying you're willing to sterilize anybody who doesn't fit your mold of somebody fit to reproduce."

  Sable shrugged and held his hands out flat, palms upward. "I suppose that's true, Ms. Harris. Nevertheless, that's the direction we feel the human race should take."

  Cage glanced through his notebook again. "Qualities that should be highly prized by the human race include intelligence and freedom from physical and mental illness, which would then eliminate poverty and criminality. Have I got that right?"

  "It's a bit more complex than that, Detective, but in essence that's correct."

  "I see. Does your politically incorrect organization condone murder, Mr. Sable?" Detective Cage's words dropped in an icy staccato in the silent room.

  Mr. Sable's mouth dropped open. "No, absolutely not! We're a humanitarian organization."

  Dinah muttered, "You've got to be kidding me."

  Sable opened his mouth to reply but Cage cut him off: "Are there human beings living among us right now whom you would consider to be unworthy of life?"

  "I don't know if I'd put it that way…."

  "You make it pretty clear that anybody of substandard intelligence or mental illness or of a criminal mindset really shouldn't be alive," Cage continued. "Have you ever acted on that belief?"

  "Listen!" said Sable, looking wild-eyed. "I admit that I do believe that. But my organization believes in prevention. We are proactive, not reactive. That means we think the problem should have been taken care of before conception and birth. By no means do we condone violence of any kind."

  "You think forced sterilization isn't violence?" demanded Dinah, half-rising from her chair.

  Cage shot her a warning look and a
sked, "Where were you two nights ago?"

  Sable looked confused and worried. "Wait, am I a suspect in something? Do you think I had something to do with murder?"

  "Yes. Where were you two nights ago?" Cage remained calm and unflappable.

  There was a period of silence as Sable tried to remember. Finally he said, with some triumph, "I was at the country club for dinner with my wife and some friends. It was a fundraiser and there were hundreds of people there."

  "What time?"

  "Uh …got there at six, left at about midnight. We went back to our place for drinks and we were up until about two," said Sable.

  Cage wrote it down dutifully and obtained the names and addresses of the man's friends while Sable wiped sweat from his forehead.

  "So what happened?" he asked.

  "Where were you five nights ago?" Cage asked, which immediately sent the other man into another sweating episode.

  Again he was silent for a moment. "We did stock take here that night," he said, relief evident. "I was here with two staff members until about eleven, eleven-thirty."

  Dinah was a little disappointed, but not surprised. The man sitting in front of them didn't match the physical descriptions given by the working girls or Reverend Notting of the man thought to be the killer.

  "Can you tell me what I was a suspect in?" Sable asked.

  Cage briefly explained the two murders but didn't give Sable much information.

  While it was probable that the supermarket owner hadn't been involved in the murders, it was entirely possible that another member of the eugenics organization, Future of Life, had been. Or that Sable had ordered the killings. Dinah told Cage as much as they returned to the unmarked police car.

  The big detective nodded. "I agree. We need to understand more about these eugenic folks. We need to find an expert."

  ****

  Edward Sable peered through his window and watched the unmarked police car leave. His hands shaking, he took a few deep breaths, and then returned to his computer. Calling up the email list of the members in the Movement, he sent out a quick email to all of them entitled: URGENT, SKYPE ME IN 15 MINUTES.

  He brought up Skype on his computer and waited for the others to call in, drumming his fingers impatiently.

  Eventually the Skype calls began trickling in. Sable knew he wouldn't be able to have everyone present — it wouldn't be a discussion most people could have at work or college — but most would find a way to call in.

  "Hi, Eddie," said one of the ladies, a middle-aged woman named Angela. "What's going on?"

  "Hi, everyone," Eddie Sable said. "Sorry for the urgency to this meeting, but something's happened that I thought you should all know about." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "I've just had a visit by a homicide detective. Apparently, I was a suspect in a couple of murders until just now."

  "What have you been up to, Eddie?" laughed Angela.

  "It's not funny," said Eddie tersely. "The police weren't kidding around. I don't know the specifics of the murders in question, but they tracked me down through the website. For some reason, they seem to think that eugenics has something to do with it."

  There was silence. "Well, did you do anything we should know about?" one of the younger male members, Leonard, asked.

  "No, I didn't. Thankfully I had alibis for both murders." Eddie waited then asked, "Has anyone else done anything we should know about?"

  "Who was murdered?" Angela asked.

  "I don't know," said Eddie. "The police asked me to provide an alibi for two nights ago and five nights ago."

  Angela's fingers flew over the keys and she looked momentarily distracted as she searched the online news sites for information on the murders.

  Everyone waited in silence for her to speak. Finally, she said, "There isn't much about it, but I have found a mention of the murder of a street kid five nights ago and the murder of a half-way house resident two nights ago."

  Someone snorted. "Why bother even reporting that?"

  "The major newspapers didn't," replied Angela.

  "I can't believe the police are even involved," Leonard said. "Good riddance, I say."

  "Leonard!" Angela said.

  "Well, it's true. That's exactly what we all believe, don't we?" said Leonard bluntly. "Eddie posted an article on the website just last week about trying to eliminate people with low IQs from the breeding pool. How is this different?"

  "Well …it's murder," said Angela.

  The other members looked on the argument with interest.

  "Yeah, and if neither of these victims had children, then I'd say society has been saved an awful lot of time and money," replied Leonard, again bluntly.

  "Selective reproduction is one thing," said Eddie gravely. "Actually murdering someone is quite another."

  "I don't really see what the problem is," repeated Leonard. "Look at the bigger picture, people. Has the elimination of those two victims resulted in a greater good for society?"

  "Good point, Leonard," a young female, Susan, piped in. "Definitely the greater good."

  "For pity's sake, don't say that to the police," said Eddie. "They won't empathize with your opinion."

  "I won't," said Leonard. "I know better than that. But just think: weak or sick members of any animal group are left behind or sacrificed for the greater good of the group."

  "Right," agreed Susan. "Last week on National Geographic I saw a program where a herd of wildebeests left behind one that had been injured for the lions to take. It stopped the lions from pursuing the rest of the herd."

  "There you go," said Leonard. "If wildebeests are smart enough to do that, why isn't the human race?"

  "I don't think . . ." Eddie began.

  "We're lucky we don't have any natural predators hunting us, like lions hunt wildebeests," continued Leonard. "But it's also a curse, because the weak and sick members of our society not only survive, but often thrive. So instead of letting nature take its course, we allow our species to become contaminated. Before you know it, we'll be devolving instead of evolving. Then we…."

  "Leonard, can you just shut up for a second?" Eddie broke in, exasperated. "I don't think any of us disagrees with you, necessarily. The reason for this entire conference call is to warn you that the cops might come sniffing around. And if they do, I'm telling you not to go on like you just did. Okay?"

  "Okay, okay," said Leonard. He was silent for several moments. "I didn't have anything to do with it. Just for the record."

  "Right. Anyone have anything else they'd like to add?" Eddie asked. Everyone shook his or her head. "Okay. I'll see you all at the next meeting."

  Eddie ended the call and shook his head, staring at the blank wall of his office. Everyone knew that Leonard was a hothead. Was he also a murderer? He had one of the more extreme viewpoints of the group, but as far as Eddie knew, he had never exhibited any violent tendencies.

  Still, you just never knew.

  Eddie resolved to keep an eye on Leonard.

  ****

  Ella jerked awake, her heart racing and sweat shining on her forehead. She was haunted by a recurring dream wherein her father lay in a hospital bed, attached to tubes and machines. As she reached down to turn the life support machine off, her father would suddenly wake and grab her arm violently. "Why are you trying to kill me?" he would demand. "You are a murderer!"

  Ella sat on the side of her bed, trying to quiet her pounding heart. She sat that way for several minutes, trying to think of how she would get through the day. Since that disturbing conversation with the stranger in the park, her thoughts had been troubled.

  What would her father have wanted? He had been a proud, strong man. He was the rock of his family. To be reduced to a frail shell, without the use of his faculties, would have been a fate worse than death. Her heart broke several times a day, upon finding him standing in the kitchen thoroughly confused by the toaster, or roaming the corridor unsure of where he was, or unable to dress himself.

  Ella shook
her head and decided to take a shower. But the relentless roar of her mind didn't stop.

  Euthanasia? Surely that was not the answer. Ella had trouble even thinking of putting her father into a nursing home, where at least he could receive adequate medical care and he could no longer scare ordinary citizens. Putting him down like the family dog was unthinkable.

  Ella emerged from the bathroom, her hair still wet. Her father stood in the hallway, staring at her.

  "Who are you?" he demanded, glaring at her with a venom Ella had never seen before. "What are you doing in my house?"

  "Dad, it's me. Ella."

  The old man still glared at her, no sign of recognition on his face.

  "Your daughter."

  He snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. I don't have any children. I'm not even married!"

  Ella digested this, realizing her father was currently locked into a time and place in his memory she really knew nothing about.

  "I'm just doing the cleaning," she said lamely, trying to talk her way out of confrontation.

  "Why didn't you just say so in the first place?" John Barnett shook his head as though she were a first-class idiot. He stalked away, heading for the family room.

  Ella breathed a sigh of relief and followed him downstairs. She quietly worked in the kitchen, making two cups of tea. Her father accepted the tea without further comment and Ella returned to the kitchen, seeking solitude.

  Ella thought about what she knew of Alzheimer's disease. Her father would continue to deteriorate rapidly, and could start to exhibit violent tendencies. Eventually he would be totally dependent and his physical health would suffer. Most Alzheimer's patients died from complications such as pneumonia. Her father had been diagnosed seven years ago and, on average, he had another three years to live. Could she really cope with deterioration in her father, to the extent that she would have to feed him, bathe him, and assist with bathroom activities?

  Feeling a heavy dread drape across her heart, Ella decided she needed to reach out. She dialed the number of her pastor, the Reverend Cameron Lockhart, at the First Baptist Church.

  His secretary put her straight through, hearing the shaky desperation in her voice.