“It was a rough conversation, if you know what I mean.” He scratches his two-day-old whiskers and shoots a look at Danielle. “I kinda need to know the rules of the road here. You want the straight skinny or do I gotta water it down through big boy over there?”
Danielle looks back. “I want it straight. I’m a lawyer, Mr. Doaks, and I’m tougher than I look. I know that my son and I are in a terrible position and that we very much need your help and that of Mr. Sevillas. So fire away.”
Doaks glances at Sevillas, who nods. His milky, blue eyes fasten upon hers. “I only got one rule.”
“Which is?”
“Don’t lie to me,” he says quietly. “If you tell me the truth and don’t bullshit me, we’ll get on just fine.”
Her voice is deadly serious. “I don’t lie, Mr. Doaks. And my son is not a murderer.”
Doaks swills down the last of his coffee and grins at her. “Then this ought to be as easy as greasin’ a goose.”
Danielle nods at the box. “Let’s get to work.”
“Okay. I had a brew over pool with my buddy Barnes last night.”
“Who is Barnes?” asks Danielle.
“My partner when I was on the force,” says Doaks. “He knows I’m a damned good dick and that whatever he’s got, we’ll wind up gettin’ anyway. Bottom line, Barnes knows I’m comin’ from the exact same place he is—as a cop. It’s like bein’ Catholic, ma’am. Once they get you, you’re theirs forever.” He flicks a fleck of pastry from his chin, kicks back and looks at the ceiling as if he is an altar boy reciting the catechism. “I ain’t gonna rehash what you and Sevillas talked about yesterday. I’m just gonna lay out the scoop—the physical evidence. And it ain’t good.”
Danielle tenses. Doaks fixes rheumy eyes upon her. “As if it ain’t bad enough that we got your boy all bloody in the dead kid’s room and you tryin’ to drag him outta the crime scene—with the murder weapon stuffed in your purse, no less, we got a few other strikes against us that I’d bet dollar to doughnuts are in that big box over there.” He holds up a gnarled index finger. “First, they got tapes.”
Danielle’s mind flashes to the white cameras that stare down from each room in Maitland. Oh, God. That meant they already knew Max had the comb in his hand before she came into the room or, God forbid, that they have him on tape actually killing Jonas. But if Max didn’t do it, then they must know who did. She tries to keep her voice calm. “What tapes?”
Doaks shrugs. “They got ’em in every room and at the secured exits. Video feeds into the nurses’ station and the main security post.”
“Are you telling us they have the murder on video?” asks Sevillas.
Danielle holds her breath. Doaks takes another slug of coffee. “Them fuck-ups? Nah, it’s one big blank—the whole thing.”
Her heart pumps again. “Malfunctioned?”
“Disabled, more like.” He gives her a look that she finds more than casually probing.
She doesn’t care. Max is safe. And a blank is better than the jury seeing Max standing there with a bloody comb in his hand. At least he is no worse off than a few minutes ago. She pushes aside how quickly she had leapt to the possibility that the tape would show her son killing Jonas. And after all is said and done, this might well be the tragic truth. Maybe she’s the crazy one, denying Max’s guilt when the overwhelming evidence points directly at him.
Doaks sticks another stubby finger in the air. “But the tapes they do have are doozies, Barnes says. Max gunnin’ for the decedent; him flippin’ out at night; you denyin’ stuff the docs are sayin’. You name it, they got it.” He turns to Danielle. “We’ll need to look at all of ’em together.”
She nods. “Listen, I need to tell you both something. I think I saw someone outside of Jonas’s window while I was in the room.”
Sevillas leans forward, his eyes eager. “Who was it?”
“I couldn’t make out his face. It was just a flash of color, a blur.” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. All I could focus on in that horrible room were Jonas and Max.”
Tony’s brown eyes seem perplexed. “Why didn’t you tell us this before?”
She flushes, but her voice is iron. “Because I wasn’t sure.”
“And now you are?”
“Sure enough to mention it.”
Doaks and Sevillas exchange a look. Doaks heads for the coffee pot. “Well, that and a dime won’t buy me this cup of coffee.”
Danielle bristles. “It shows that someone else could have been in that room and then ran out when he heard me coming.”
He walks back, sloshing coffee from cup to saucer. “Like who—the headless horseman?”
“Like the person who killed Jonas and was about to frame or kill Max.” She gives him a sharp glance. “And who probably would have killed me if I’d walked in five minutes earlier.”
Doaks lifts his cup and grins. “Touché, Ms. P.”
She can’t help but smile back.
The phone buzzes. Sevillas punches a button and listens. “Put him on.” There is a short pause. “This is counsel for Ms. Parkman. Just a moment.”
Danielle’s heart leaps as Sevillas motions for her to take the receiver, but to share it with him so he can listen. Hands shaking, she grasps the black receiver. “Max? Max, is it you, honey?”
“Mom!” The voice she loves as no other is so strong, so real, that she can almost reach out and touch it. If it weren’t for the piteous, terrified tenor of his one word, Danielle has never been so thrilled to hear it. “Where are you? When will I see you?”
“Shh, sweetheart, don’t worry.” She forces calm into her voice. “It’s going to be all right. I’m here in our lawyer’s office, and we’re working very hard to get you out of there.”
“But I can’t—” His voice cracks, an ice floe against the merciless hull of an arctic tanker. “I’m scared, Mom.”
Her need to hold him close, to reach him with her eyes, is overwhelming. “I know, Max. Please believe me when I say it’s going to be all right.”
“But why do they think I killed Jonas?” His fear is palpable. “You know I didn’t! I don’t know how I woke up in all that blood!”
“Honey, listen to me.” She takes a deep breath. “Do you remember anything at all about that day? You’ve got to calm down so we can figure this out.”
A sob stabs through the receiver. She gives him time to collect himself. “All I remember is being out all morning. And before lunch, I think somebody put those goddamned things on my arms and legs. I passed out again. Then you came or the cop grabbed me and there was blood all over me…”
“You didn’t see or hear anything at all before that? Do you remember how you wound up in Jonas’s room?”
“No!” he cries. “I can’t remember anything! They dope me up half the time, and then everything is all fucked up in my head. I get pissed off…crazy. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. You’ve got to come get me, Mom.”
“I can’t, sweetheart. They’ve got a restraining order against me.”
“But when will I see you? Can’t I even call you?”
“Not right now.”
“Then I want my goddamned iPhone—and my computer.”
“Honey,” she says. “If they made me take them away when you were admitted, there’s no way they’ll let you have them now.”
“Just do it.” His words are clipped. “I’ll find a way to call you—and do a few other things they’ll never figure out.”
“Max—”
“Forget it, Mom.”
She sighs. Like some people with Asperger’s, Max is a computer savant. He could probably launch nuclear warheads with that iPhone. “I’ll ask Tony to bring it the next time he sees you, but it won’t do any good.”
“Sevillas? He’s a cool guy.”
Tony smiles and takes the receiver. “Hey, hotshot. Forget about the computer and the iPhone. We’re on thin ice with the judge as it is, and I’m not risking my behind so you can surf the Web.”
/>
“Well,” says Max. “The iPhone is actually a computer, so I guess I don’t really need the laptop.” A slight pause. “Look, I’ve got my Game Boy. They’re both black. We’ll swap.” There is a pause, and then a whisper. “Shit, here comes the Gestapo.” A few moments elapse. “Okay, they’re gone.”
Danielle takes the receiver from Sevillas. “Max, I have to ask you this question again. It’s important. Why did you want to hurt Jonas?”
“I didn’t!” he groans. “Look, the kid was weird, but I didn’t give a shit about him.”
“But we’ve talked about this before. Remember what happened on the unit that day? And when I was in New York? And the hospital has records of other…incidents.” She draws a deep breath. “I need to know the truth.”
“Why do you keep asking me these stupid questions?” Anger laces his words. “Has everybody gone nuts?”
“Calm down, sweetheart, I’m just trying—” There is a scuffling noise. “Max? Max!”
“Ms. Parkman.” Danielle hears the stern voice of Nurse Kreng. “This conversation is concluded.”
Fury overcomes her. “You put my son back on this phone—now.”
The calm in Kreng’s voice is maddening. “I have complete authority to terminate these telephone conferences when I determine the patient is overwrought. Goodbye, Ms. Parkman.”
The line goes dead. Danielle turns to Sevillas. “She cut me off! Tony, Max—”
Tony replaces the receiver. She puts her hands over her eyes as sobs rack her body. The next thing she knows Tony’s arms are around her, holding her tightly to him. She can’t stop crying. She can’t bear it—any of it. She presses her face against his chest until his heartbeat slows her cries. She looks up as Tony takes her face in his hands, his eyes steady and warm. Before she can say anything, he leans down and kisses her. Gently, lovingly.
“It’ll be all right.” He uses the same words she said to Max. “I’ll take care of you. Both of you.”
She nods. Words won’t come. Tony leads her to her chair. Once there, she glances at Doaks. His raised eyebrow says: “So that’s how it is.”
“Okay,” says Sevillas, “let’s get started.”
Danielle wipes her eyes. She has to put whatever she’s feeling aside or she won’t be able to help Max. She takes a deep breath and nods.
Sevillas’s words are brisk. “Does he remember anything, Danielle?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
Doaks gives her a crinkly smile. “This is where I come in. If somebody else did it, I’ll find him.”
She nods. “I appreciate that.”
“Okay, so listen up,” he says. “There’s somethin’ Barnes told me last night that don’t figure for me. They tossed Max’s room after the murder, and I got a few questions about what they found.”
“Like what?” asks Sevillas.
Doaks turns to Danielle. “Like how come they find the dead kid’s St. Christopher necklace under Max’s pillow?”
Her heart lurches. She can’t remember Jonas ever wearing a necklace. She takes a deep breath. “Someone must have put it there. Someone who was trying to frame Max.”
Sevillas turns to Doaks. “Did it have fingerprints on it?”
“Don’t know yet, but I’m sure they’re gonna be real pleased to tell us if it does. And that ain’t all.” He pulls a crumpled scrap from his worn pocket and hands it to Danielle. Her hands tremble as she unfolds the paper and reads it. Impatience and disbelief rise in her throat.
Sevillas leans forward, curiosity on his face. “What is it, Doaks?”
He shrugs. “A page from Jonas’s chart. They found it under Max’s mattress.”
“What does it say?” asks Sevillas.
“It’s a copy of the dead kid’s schedule—for the day of the murder.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Danielle stares at the empty paper plates. Lunch has come and gone. She has done her best to tell Sevillas and Doaks everything that happened at Maitland. She has not minced words about her suspicion of the treatment Maitland provided Max and Jonas: Fastow’s overdose of Max; their secret use of restraints; and their refusal to let her participate in the process, ultimately forbidding her access to her own son. She stressed that Max had been depressed, but not violent, and drastically deteriorated only after he was admitted to Maitland.
It is what she has not told them that troubles her.
She has excluded Max’s violent behavior toward her and the damaging comments in the computer entries—not to mention her hacking into Maitland’s computer to view that information. She has to constantly remind herself not to expose another indictable crime by revealing things she should have no way of knowing. The State already has enough rope to hang her.
The most critical omission, of course, is Max on the floor of Jonas’s room, curled into a bloody ball, clutching the murder weapon. That she will take to her grave.
Sevillas and Doaks have returned from their bathroom break. She wonders why men seem to do their most important conversing while dangling their penises over a urinal. In this instance, there is little mystery why they have absented themselves. To go over her story. To see if they buy it. To see how they can build a defense around it.
Sevillas pours another cup of coffee before he joins her. Doaks slumps in his chair and pokes a fork at the remains of his pastry. The black box sits at the end of the conference table, waiting.
“So,” says Sevillas, “we’ve laid out the bare bones of their case. We’ve heard your version. What we haven’t discussed yet is whether or not you have some idea who could have done this thing.”
Danielle feels their eyes upon her. She forces herself to forget about Max and to think like a lawyer. “I think we have to keep in mind that anyone could have done it. We have to explore every avenue, every staff member—from the janitor to the doctors, anyone with grudges or violent records who had an opportunity to be there, whether or not we think they had a motive.”
“Good idea,” says Sevillas.
“We should also subpoena the files of other patients on the unit who had violent tendencies,” says Danielle. “Remember, I told you about that girl, Naomi, who was there when Max had the…altercation with Jonas and had to be dragged to her room. She is very bizarre and violent, not to mention the fact that she has at least a brown belt in karate. The orderlies can testify to that. And she also told me she cuts people. We need her records and background information. There’s also a boy named Chris who had broken his mother’s arm, but I’ve only seen him once on the unit. I’m not sure he’s still there.” She marshals her thoughts. “To be safe, I think we should subpoena the charts and histories of all of the patients on the unit. I’m sure they’ll claim privilege, but we have a right to know the details of who was on the unit that day and if their psychiatric histories include physical violence of any kind.”
Sevillas nods. “What about the boy’s mother? Is there any evidence of her having violent tendencies toward her son?”
“No,” she says and then stops. Nothing Danielle witnessed of their interactions even hints that Marianne harbored any ill will toward Jonas. In fact, her overwhelming impression is precisely the opposite. Even so, she has to find another suspect to shift the investigation away from Max. She hates what she is about to do, but she has no choice. “We can’t rule anyone out at this point. I’d also like to talk about my taking a very active role in this investigation.”
Doaks rips off a sheet of his legal pad. It looks like hamburger grease has been ground into it. He wads it up and shakes his head. “No offense, but I’ve been goin’ down this road since before you started callin’ your panties lingerie, and there ain’t no way I’m gonna agree to somebody else callin’ the shots on my part of the show.”
Sevillas looks away and coughs, but not before Danielle sees his smile. She turns to Doaks. “I’m sure you understand that my son’s life is at stake here. I won’t interfere, but I have information you don’t have, and there are a lot o
f people to track down and talk to.”
Doaks waves a gnarled hand. “No way. I may not look like it, Ms. P., but I got everything I need—right up here.” He taps his temple. “I ain’t had any help in thirty years, and I’m way too old to start now.”
“Come on, Doaks,” says Sevillas. “For once you have a really smart defendant. She’s the best source of information we’ve got. Maybe she can help you out. Besides, it’ll keep her out of my hair on the legal side.”
He flashes Sevillas a look that could slice boot leather. “You stay outta this.”
Sevillas turns to Danielle. “Can you promise not to get in Doaks’s way?”
“Absolutely,” she says.
“Then get yourself another dick.” Doaks grabs his legal pad and starts to rise.
“John, let’s not forget why we’re here.” Sevillas gives him a meaningful glance.
“Don’t push me, Tony. I don’t care what you did to get Madeleine sprung from that place. You used up that card a long time ago.” He falls back into his chair and turns to Danielle, who has silently observed this verbal volley that is fraught with a meaning she doesn’t understand. “Look, Ms. P….”
She smiles at him. “Danielle, please.”
“Yeah, yeah, Danielle,” he mutters. “If you’re plantin’ yourself in the middle of my mess kit, we gotta have, ya know, some serious boundaries. Lines you don’t cross.”
“You’re absolutely right,” she says. “What would you suggest?”
Doaks scratches his white stubble. “There are some places you ain’t gonna go,” he says. “Some things I gotta do alone, like interviewin’ important witnesses, without some broad trailing along behind me.”
She nods.
“Nothin’ personal,” he says. “But I got connections you’d queer if anybody knew I was—”
“Listening to a woman?” She tries not to smile.
“No,” he says irritably. “It ain’t no male-pig thing. It’s just that all my contacts know I fly solo. That’s why they trust me.”
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