by Julie Cave
"You know, I'm mighty sick of you and your buddies in Congress giving the Senate impossibly long bills and expecting us to pass them without thorough and careful analysis," said Devine, his voice suddenly and worryingly quiet. "It happened with the Financial Regulation Bill in January. It makes me start to wonder if you're trying to hide something."
Winters had learned long ago in the military how to deal with stress. With a deep breath, he said, "We have nothing to hide. We have a pressing desire to make our health system fairer and accessible to all."
Devine just looked at him, a cynical smirk on his face. "I just don't quite believe you, Senator. So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to insist that the bill is read in full in the Senate, however long that may take. Let's see exactly what's in it. What do you say, chief?"
Winters just smiled. "Then I guess you're going to waste everyone's time, and I'll just have to let the American public know that you're doing it."
"Don't threaten me with the media, boy," snapped Devine. "I've got my own sources, and when the time comes that I find what you're trying to hide, they'll be the first to know."
With that, Devine turned and stormed out of the office. Trixie appeared in the doorway, her forehead still wrinkled with worry.
"Is everything okay, sir?" she asked.
Winters turned. "I want no further interruptions," he said frostily. "On pain of losing your job. Understand?"
His door was hastily shut and Winters was left to deal with the ramifications of Devine's threats. The truth was, he couldn't afford for the bill to be read in full. His provision was small and insignificant in the grand scheme of things but would cease to be so if the conservatives got wind of it.
However, the worst possible outcome would be if the media got hold of his amendment. Winters represented California, a state with bastions of conservatism still flourishing in certain pockets. His seat was by no means assured. If he was voted out, his access to money from groups such as the Movement would cease.
Winters kicked the side of his desk angrily and cursed Devine. He could not let this happen. The bill had to be passed through the Senate without his provision being read. He'd seen it happen with the Financial Regulation Bill and there was no reason it couldn't happen again.
Winters sat down, controlling his breathing. In time, he felt calm again and he smiled. Devine was a country bully, used to getting his own way by bluster and threats.
Winters was smarter, craftier, and more cunning. He would find a way to deal with Senator Devine.
****
Night fell over the city as Dinah devoured a pizza she'd ordered. She was too tired to think about cooking, and her last attempt had been so pathetic that she was a little scared to try again.
Sitting in front of her laptop, she was keen to continue looking into eugenics. In the absence of any other solid leads, she hoped that it would eventually lead to the killer.
Dinah cruised through several websites until she came across a university website that had archived the history of the eugenics movement in the United States with what appeared to be some credibility.
As she read she made notes, and eventually she became so aghast she had to stop.
Drumming her fingers on the desk, she pulled out her cell phone and called Detective Cage.
"Well," he said, when his wife called him to the phone. "At least it isn't the middle of the night."
"I've been researching eugenics," said Dinah, ignoring his jibe. "You won't believe what I've found!"
"I guess you'll tell me," said Cage.
"Eugenicists in the late 19th and early 20th centuries had studied psychiatric traits thought to be inherited, such as schizophrenia," said Dinah. "They expanded their studies to include physical traits, such as hemophilia. You know what that is? The blood doesn't clot properly and…."
"I know what hemophilia is," interrupted Cage. "Keep going."
"Okay, so it's not a bad thing to understand the cause of an illness and whether it's preventable," said Dinah. "But then they started applying this principle to social traits, such as sexual immorality, alcoholism, and feeble-mindedness. Eugenicists explained that these traits were likely to originate in races from southern and eastern Europe."
"They actually narrowed it down that far?" Cage asked skeptically.
"Indeed. Clearly they had a lot of power and influence, because federal legislation was passed to support these claims. For example, in 1882 the Act to Regulate Immigration was passed, which vastly reduced the number of immigrants from southern and eastern Europe. By 1914, the surgeon general had publicly aligned himself with the eugenics movement. In 1917, Congress expanded prohibited entry into the United States to include idiots…."
"Well, I guess you wouldn't have been allowed in," said Cage, with what sounded suspiciously like laughter.
"Shut up. You wouldn't have been allowed in either, because you're an imbecile and that's what's next on my list. Not to mention epileptics, and anyone found to be mentally or physically defective." Dinah stopped, if only to take a breath.
"All jokes aside, that is disturbing," said Cage.
"Did you know that by 1928, eugenics was a topic in 376 separate college courses as a legitimate science and that textbooks of the era taught sterilization, racial segregation, and immigration restrictions as worthy public policies?"
"I didn't," admitted Cage.
"The influential writer Madison Grant warned that racial mixing was a social and racial crime, leading America to racial suicide and the eventual disappearance of white civilization altogether," continued Dinah. "As a result of this thinking, Virginia passed the Racial Integrity Act of 1924, which disallowed marriage between a white person and a person of another race. Alabama and Georgia also passed similar laws."
"Wow," said Cage very quietly.
"But listen to this. Sterilization laws were first passed in 1907 in Indiana, but by 1914, 12 states had enacted laws allowing for the involuntary — yes, involuntary — sterilization of those maintained at the public expense. Such poor individuals included the insane, epileptic, alcoholic, blind, deaf, deformed, orphaned, homeless, and poverty-stricken. Do you know how many people were involuntarily sterilized under these laws?"
"No."
"Sixty thousand people! Sixty thousand! And it continued among institutionalized people until the mid-1970s!"
Cage was silent for a while, then he said, "That is mind-blowing, Harris. It's terrible, but I'm not surprised. What do you think this has to do with our killer?"
Dinah took a deep breath and realized she had to calm down. The information she'd just read had made her angry, but Cage was right — what did it have to do with a killer?
"Is it possible," she said, "that the perp killed Lakeisha Tennant and Benjamin Steffan because they would have been deemed undesirable? Both would have fallen into that category quite easily." And so would I.
"I gotta go," said Cage. "But I think you might be onto something. I'll talk to you more about it tomorrow, okay?"
They hung up and Dinah continued to research the topic.
Dinah began to feel sick. The science of eugenics, if it could indeed be called a science, seemed wholly lacking in compassion and totally steeped in ignorance.
What wounded her was the constant reference to alcoholics as inferior, unworthy, and substandard human beings. She had a profound weakness, she knew that. The temptation to drink would live within her for the rest of her life. Yet, surely it didn't overrule the other labels she wore — those of college graduate, FBI agent, mother, and wife. Would the eugenicists have overlooked the good she had done and her obvious intelligence because she possessed an undesirable trait? Could a person really be pigeonholed according to his or her worst flaw?
Of course she understood that even today her alcoholism was considered undesirable. Perhaps people might even look down on her. At least today she wouldn't have been involuntarily sterilized.
She stood to stretch and her eyes settled upon the b
ottle of vodka sent by Senator Winters, nestled cozily on the top shelf above her refrigerator. Her heart began to thump and her brain dumped adrenaline into her system. With sweaty, slick palms, the nasty voice of enticement began to whisper in her ear.
I can't, I mustn't, I'm clean. I don't drink anymore.
What difference will one little drink make? Just a small one.
I can't, I can't just stop at one.
You can handle it. You've learned your lesson. Just having one drink won't mean that you go straight back to being a raging alcoholic!
Yes, it does. Leave me alone!
You are so pathetic. Listen to yourself. Is it any wonder you needed to drink to be even vaguely interesting?
Hands shaking, Dinah knew that she had to occupy herself. She swiftly left the kitchen and found her Bible. Her counselor, Faith, had suggested that she occupy herself with Bible reading or prayer to combat the cravings. She had started reading the gospel of John, and so she continued, trying to force herself to concentrate. Eventually, the panicky, fluttery feeling in her chest subsided and her hands stopped shaking. She closed her eyes to pray, but her thoughts were still jittery.
I'm sorry, God, I can't seem to organize my thoughts tonight. Please forgive me, but I'm having a hard time beating this alcoholic thing. Is this how hard it's going to be? Do I have to face this for the rest of time?
The answer popped into her mind so quickly it seemed that it didn't belong to her.
Yes, Dinah, but you are not alone.
Chapter 9
This night, the killer waited until darkness draped the city before taking his van back to the streets where the homeless congregated. The balmy summer evening meant that the streets were busy and crowded and so the killer had to think hard about how he was going to deal with Ashleigh. He'd spent the previous night cruising the streets until he had hit upon a plan.
She appeared almost immediately, with relief and excitement etched on her face.
"I thought you weren't going to come!" she said. "I'm so excited, I barely slept a wink last night."
He smiled at her. "Sorry I'm late. It took a bit longer than I thought to organize everything, but it's ready now. Are you ready to start your new life?"
"Absolutely!" Ashleigh threw her backpack — the sum total of her belongings — into the back of the van. "Can I ride in front?"
"Yes, of course," said the killer, closing the back door and jingling his keys. He could scarcely believe how easily this was going.
As they drove, Ashleigh chattered incessantly, her excitement obvious. She didn't seem to notice that he was taking her deep into the industrial area toward Hyattsville, where car lots, manufacturing, and auto repairers were the main tenants. At this time of night, few people still remained in the neighborhood and this was what drew the killer to the area.
Finally, he stopped outside a catering business that had put on a nice facade, with picture windows, gables, shutters, and ornate wrought iron. If Ashleigh didn't look too closely, it could have been a pretty hostel where women down on their luck might go to stay. Preparation is the key, thought the killer, smugly. Ashleigh climbed out of the van.
"Wow, this place is really nice," she exclaimed. "Will I get my own room? Do you think they have a television? I can't wait to taste real food again!"
"Yes," said the killer absent-mindedly. He'd brought her here for the facade of the building, but also because there was an alley next to the building in which he thought he would finish the job. As imperceptibly as possible he checked around them, trying to see if any workers remained in the surrounding buildings. The street seemed quiet and deserted.
"Yes to what?" Ashleigh said teasingly. "The room, food, or TV?"
The killer glanced at her indifferently, not bothering about the rapport and trust he'd built anymore. "All of the above." He handed her the backpack and hunted around in the back for the card he wanted to place on her body.
"Hey," said Ashleigh suddenly. Her voice had changed, becoming wary. "Why does the sign above the door say that this is the Gourmet Gastronomical Company?"
The killer gave a fake laugh as he located the card and pushed it into his pocket. "Oh, it's because that's the last owner of the building. I don't think they ever took the sign down. And they don't want loiterers hanging around."
Ashleigh gave him a strange look. "Who would hang around here?"
Think fast. "Some of the women here come from abusive relationships," he said. "They don't want the husbands coming down here and getting violent or making a scene." Nice one.
This seemed to satisfy Ashleigh, although the killer knew that it was time to finish things quickly, before Ashleigh started asking more questions. She was still caught up in the excitement of the promise of a new life to think rationally.
He gestured toward the alley. "We have to go to the back to be let in."
She walked toward the alley, not sensing the imminent danger. With a quick glance around before he followed her, the killer moved up quickly behind her.
She was taken completely by surprise, and she was a small woman. It took only a minute to break her neck and leave her on the concrete. He hunched over her as the life drained from her face, the light in her eyes dimming.
He placed the card carefully in the waistband of her jeans.
"I'm sorry," he told her. "But it's just the way it has to be. Someone has to stop the cycle."
Then he stood, looking around him for any signs that he'd been watched. The street seemed just as quiet as when he'd arrived.
He drove the van to an auto dealership a block away. There, under cover of darkness he unscrewed the license plates from the van and swapped them with the plates from a '67 Mustang. Then he peeled off the markings of the charity he'd claimed to belong to, the Drug Response Team, from the side of the van.
He climbed behind the wheel and checked the fuel gauge. He had enough fuel to take him to Dulles International Airport, where he planned to leave the van in long-term parking. From there, he'd catch a cab home. He'd even brought a suitcase with him so it looked like he'd just flown in.
You can never be too prepared.
He drove away without a second thought to the lifeless body he'd left behind.
****
Dinah had just settled down with her morning cup of black coffee and a croissant when the phone rang. Thinking it must have been Detective Cage, she answered it around a mouthful.
"Hi, Dinah. It's Andy Coleman," a familiar voice came down the line. Dinah swallowed hastily.
"Hey! Hi, Andy," she said. "Sorry, just had a mouthful of breakfast. How are you?"
"Great," he replied. "Just thought I'd let you know we landed in Washington last night and we're going to the National Prayer Breakfast at the White House this morning."
"Wow!" said Dinah. "I didn't know you were pals with the president."
Andy laughed. "I don't think the president would want to be friends with me! No, I was invited by our senator. He's a big supporter of the Genesis Legacy."
Dinah immediately thought of the senator with whom she'd had the misfortune of becoming involved, one who bore her ill-will rather than support.
"Anyway, I was wondering if you'd like to catch up for lunch," suggested Andy. "We're going home tomorrow."
Dinah put down her coffee mug with a bang. "That'd be great," she said. "I have to pick your brains about something."
She met with Andy and his wife, Sandra, for barbecue ribs not far from Capitol Hill. She had first met the Colemans during the Smithsonian case. They had been friends with the murdered secretary of the Smithsonian and had provided valuable information in hunting down his killer. In time, they had grown to be friends as well; Sandra helping Dinah to understand God and His acceptance of her, even in her broken and failed state of humanity. The Colemans ran a Christian ministry called the Genesis Legacy, which sought to protect the foundations of Christianity and defend the Bible. Andy Coleman spent much of his life defending the authority and authenti
city of the Bible, including its account of creation, as atheists and evolutionists waged a fierce debate about the origins of human beings, the earth, and the universe.
Now, sitting over a plate of baby back ribs and a root beer, Dinah asked, "Have you ever heard of eugenics?"
Andy raised his eyebrows and smiled sardonically. "Yes, I have. I know you're not much of a reader, Dinah, but I sort of did write a book about it."
"Really?" Dinah reddened with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."
"I should stipulate that it's not totally about eugenics. There are a host of other subjects in it, too." Andy laughed to show he wasn't offended. "What is it you want to know?"
Dinah explained the bare facts of the case, and how the investigation seemed to be headed down the path toward the subject. She explained what Dr. Nelson Sharp had told them during their visit to the university. She ended by saying, "I guess I just want your take on the whole thing."
Andy nodded and steepled his hands under his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose what it all comes down to is that eugenics, like the ideas of evolution and the big bang, is what we're left with when you reject God's authority. Ultimately, eugenicists formed the basis for their science on Darwinism, which teaches that human life has no intrinsic value and that mankind is actually a random accident. I think it's important to understand the environment in which eugenics formed because, frankly, we could learn a lot from it."
He paused while he jammed as much barbecue rib into his mouth as possible and chewed. Finally, he continued, "As you probably already know, the mid to late 19th century was a time when the foundations of society were being questioned. Up until that point, Christianity was very dominant in Europe and America. However, a number of philosophers, writers, scholars, and ethicists began to challenge Christianity. For example, the philosopher Nietzsche wrote tomes such as Beyond Good and Evil and The Gay Science, and Charles Darwin wrote Origin of the Species and The Descent of Man. Nietzsche was the philosopher who notoriously declared God to be dead and argued that people should focus on their freedom in the existing world and forget about the concept of heaven. He also suggests that there is no universal morality applicable to mankind, and that any concept of guilt or conscience is the result of Christianity turning an evil eye toward our natural inclinations. He also claimed that Christianity was for weak and unhealthy people.