She’d texted someone.
Keelyn rocked at a slow pace intentionally to ease the tension in the room. “When did you pick up that habit?”
Raven flicked ashes onto the floor. “Does it bother you?”
Keelyn inhaled, the stench of nicotine burning her nose. Sharp pain poked at her left side in protest. “I’m just wondering if you miss her.”
At first there was just a hint of a smile. Not a real smile. The fake one reserved for polite social interaction. Then it faded into a sneer. Just as she’d seen on Rebecca’s face.
Contempt.
Keelyn swallowed heavily. “Did you ever love her?”
“Why would you even ask such a question? Of course I love her.”
“Why did you try to kill us?”
“Who says I did?”
Keelyn drummed her fingers to quell the jitters.
“Who is her father?”
Raven crushed the tip of the cancer stick into her chair. “Some things are better left unsaid.”
“What is your point in bringing me here? For keeping me prisoner?”
“You would be so surprised that I’d want to spend time with you? The chains are so you’ll listen.”
“And the knife?”
“Insurance.”
Raven’s cold demeanor fed Keelyn’s alarm. “We haven’t talked for almost two years. Why now?”
“Everything has its time. Isn’t that what your Good Book says?”
Primal instinct kicked in, and Keelyn began to weigh her options. Whatever Raven’s point was in bringing her to this dismal structure, it wasn’t a good one.
Convincing Raven to release her meant gaining her trust. Finding equal ground.
Time to backtrack.
“I was curious about something.”
“Just one thing?”
It was hard seeing Raven as a woman, a mother, when Keelyn remembered the lanky twelve-year-old girl from that horrible day. Raven at one time had been the peacemaker. The one who would make light of tense moments. Defuse situations. That was the point of her drawings and connecting with Nathan through the windows. She’d made a game out of seeing which person she could get the attention of first.
“The Bibles in your garage. Why so many?”
Raven folded her hands, a shadowy figure in the moonlight.
“Do you believe all that book says?”
“The Bible?” Keelyn rocked. “What do you believe?”
Keelyn’s eyes adjusted to the dark. Raven’s facial features were blurry, and her feet were tucked under her body. It hindered Keelyn’s ability to read her.
Silence.
“Was there anything that spoke to you? There must have been if you were out on the streets trying to convince others about its message.”
“Do you think I’m crazy?”
Keelyn pulled herself tighter into the coat Raven had given her. Between the lingering cigarette smoke and the burned ash from her home that clung to her clothes, she preferred the latter.
She couldn’t knock the chill. “Troubled, maybe.”
“Then possibly you don’t believe what you read in that book.”
A shiver took hold of Keelyn, and she clenched her teeth to keep them from cracking against each other.
Raven stood and opened an old iron stove. Already prepared inside was balled up newspaper and kindling. She pulled a small match case from her pocket and lit the pile. At first the sight of the fire kicked Keelyn’s heart into overdrive. Her head ached at the memory of Sophia trapped in the flames.
Raven blew at the structure’s base, and the flames danced as they consumed her breath. She grabbed a small log and placed it gently on the pyre.
The chains slid over the wood in eerie musical notes as Keelyn pulled her feet away. Would the heat translate up the metal links and burn her? “When did you start to have trouble?”
“Living with John Samuals was never easy.”
Interesting. Not using the word father. She’d distanced herself from any emotional connection.
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
“Raven—” She stopped. The words of an unspoken promise left unsaid.
She added a few more logs onto the growing flames and closed the door. “You were the only joyful thing. I craved your visits. The loneliness was never ending.”
Keelyn’s mind tumbled. For what purpose had she been brought here? Was Raven just trying to reestablish their relationship in a way her sick mind thought reasonable? By force? How could Keelyn convince Raven to set her free?
“I loved our times spent down by the water,” Keelyn said.
Raven returned to her chair and lit another cigarette.
Keelyn continued. “The water was so cold. Looking for minnows. Catching frogs.”
“Every visit you dressed more girly, but you still always acted like a boy,” Raven said.
The glow from the stove warmed Keelyn’s face. To her relief, the metal around her ankle remained cool. “When did you notice Mom getting sick?”
“Something happened with John at work. Eventually, the fences went up. He bought weapons. He had all this lab work he was doing. It seemed to suck the life right out of her. She began to just exist day after day.”
Raven brushed away a fallen tear. Keelyn’s heart hoped the emotional expression was something she could work with to build rapport. “I noticed that, too.”
“At least you had an out.” She flicked the filter to the floor.
Could those embers light the brittle wood?
As they faded, Keelyn felt relief. “I did like to come and see you. When I was with my dad, I was often alone. I understand that kind of loneliness and I loved being with you. I did want to always be with you.” Even in the darkness, she could see the hint of a faint smile cross Raven’s face and her shoulders dropped a little as they relaxed. An emotional opening? “Raven, we can have that friendship again. You haven’t gone too far. Let me go. I’ll say I came willingly. That you saved my life.”
For a moment, Raven seemed to relent. She pulled her legs out from underneath her chair and leaned forward. Then, a faint tremble took hold. Her head dropped into her palms, and her fingers slid up her skull and clenched tufts of her hair so tightly it pulled the skin up from her face.
A futile attempt to hide significant emotional pain.
“Did John hurt you?”
“It depends on what you’re really asking.” She pulled her face up and dropped her hands back into her lap. Another cigarette plucked from the package. “What is it you really want to know?”
“Were you physically abused?”
The embers flared as she inhaled. She raised her head up, the smoke funneled through her nostrils. “There are things worse than that.”
Keelyn’s heart grew heavy. “Like what?”
“Whatever happened at work with John began to haunt him. We’d hear him wake up in the night screaming. We’d hardly see him in the day, and when he came back to the house, he would rant and rave about the government.”
“When did he start to hallucinate?”
“Some things begin so slowly you never really know when the beginning is.”
“Didn’t he get better?”
“Life was hard for all of us. After he lost his job, we were fine for a year. He was in his cave most of the time. We tried to make do. Mom halfheartedly homeschooled us but was never consistent about making sure the work was done.”
“I thought you were going to school.”
“Believe me, it would have been a welcome break.” She tapped more ash onto the floor, and then was motionless as she watched the end sizzle. “We barely made it the next four years. A few months before John took us hostage, the electricity was turned off. The cops were coming by. He was finding more weapons. He taught those of us who could hold a gun how to shoot.”
“I remember the Christmas tree replaced with rifles.”
Raven pointed the cigarette at her like a mother warn
ing her child to back off. Her other hand settled on the knife. “None of you get it.”
“What do you mean?”
“The reason John Samuals killed half our family. Tried to murder me . . .”
Keelyn paused her rocking. “You’re saying it wasn’t because he was hallucinating?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“Then what was the reason?”
“Whatever secret he held, he figured if he was in prison, they’d stop hunting him for it.”
“Sounds like a conspiracy theory.”
“Only if it’s not true.” Raven twirled the knife on the tabletop. “And to answer your earlier question—I’m not letting you go.”
Keelyn’s eyes settled on the spinning blade as it counted off her remaining hours like a fast moving clock hand.
Chapter 42
Tuesday
“THIS ISN’T GOING TO WORK if you can’t keep your cool. He’s not under arrest right now. Let’s just try to build the strongest case possible,” Nathan said.
Lee leaned against the two-way mirror. “I know you’re the expert here. You can keep me on track, but I need to take the lead.”
“Don’t give away too much too early.”
“I know what I’m doing. It’s not my first suspect interview.”
Donnely was a shell of the man he’d met earlier in the week. His skin was pale. A short, scraggly beard was matted with food particles. Though sober this morning, his physical demeanor was slow and uncoordinated. Streams from the water he’d spilled still dripped off the table.
Lee took the towel from Nathan and both headed into the room. Nathan hovered in the corner. Lee began to mop up the water.
“Things don’t seem to be going so well for you, doctor.”
The man sagged into the chair, his eyes downcast, hands limp at his sides. “This is all a misunderstanding.”
Lee tossed the sodden towel into the corner. “Or maybe I shouldn’t use the term doctor, since you crossed so many ethical lines with Raven that you must have burned the Hippocratic Oath as soon as you got your license.”
The slow deflation continued, and Lee thought the man might slide onto the floor like Salvador Dali’s liquid clocks. “I never did anything improper with Raven.”
“That’s why Lucy Freeman filed a complaint against you, right?”
Donnely clenched his hands tightly. “What is it you’re accusing me of?”
“Well, the easy stuff would be serious ethical violations. The medical board is going to be more interested in that. Coming from us as law enforcers could be sex with a minor, arson, and murder. That carries jail time—hard-core jail time. It all depends on what you say. How honest you are.”
His face grayed, and Lee saw the tremble take hold. From the corner, Nathan signaled to back off. Too much too soon and the man would disengage.
Lee folded his hands on the table. “Let me ask you a few background questions. What was your father’s name?”
Donnely clipped his feet around the legs of the chair, clutched his stomach, and swooned forward.
Nathan took two steps from the corner to steady him at his shoulder. “You all right?”
“I’m going to be sick.”
Nathan pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sheen from Gavin’s face. “You’re going to have to settle down. If you’re just truthful about what’s happened, it’s going to be better for everyone.”
He nodded minutely and eased back.
“Your father’s name is Lucent, correct?”
Another affirmation.
“He and John Samuals were coworkers.”
“Yes.”
“Your father died at that company.”
Donnely’s eyes darkened as his brow furrowed. Sometimes affirmation of the truth didn’t come from the spoken word. Lee saw the traces of motivation for what had happened in that look.
“Did you hold Samuals responsible?”
A dark flash. “He was and has never suffered any real consequences.”
Lee leaned back. “That must bother you terribly.”
Gavin folded his arms across his chest. “Of course.”
“So you can see why we’re having some difficulty here. You insinuated yourself into Raven Samuals’s psychiatric care; you used some therapeutic techniques that deviate from standard treatment. Then Raven begins to suffer some striking hallucinations, which she names after your father. The same hallucination her father said instructed him to kill his family.”
“You think I created Lucent?”
“Didn’t you? The psychiatrist we have reviewing your records states it is possible to create pseudo memories under hypnosis.”
“That may be true—but hallucinations?”
Lee eased back. “We found all your tapes. We’ve been watching how you interacted with Raven.”
“Good. Those will actually work for my defense.”
Lee tapped at the desk with his fingernails. “How do you imagine?”
Gavin leaned forward. “Have you ever watched those stage shows with people being hypnotized?”
Lee shrugged. “Once or twice.”
“The first thing a stage performer must differentiate between is the low and high hypnotizable. A low hypnotizable is not really under their suggestion.”
“Nice fact. How does this pertain to Raven?”
“Even before the show, the hypnotist must ferret out those who are most susceptible to hypnosis. He’ll weed out those who don’t seem to be responding, typically these low hypnotizables. He wants to put on the best show possible.”
“And how does this relate to your case?” Lee asked.
“The audience can’t really tell the difference between those who are truly hypnotized and those who choose to voluntarily participate for the good of the show.”
“I don’t see how this helps you.”
“I’m trying to point out that a professional can tell the difference. There are certain mannerisms a low hypnotizable will perform to try to convince the hypnotist they’re really under their influence when the truth is they are not.”
“Like what?”
“Well, if you watch the tapes closely, early in our sessions when I ask Raven to walk around the room, she bumps into the furniture.”
“So?”
“Just because you’re hypnotized doesn’t mean you’re blind. If you review tapes of people under hypnosis, they don’t run themselves into things. So this behavior is a ploy or a lie a low hypnotizable puts forth in order to convince the hypnotist they are under their suggestion.”
“Again, how does this help you?”
“It will be proof Raven was never under my influence. That these choices she made were of her own volition. She’s truly a murderer and not in any way by doing something I told her to do.”
“Doctor, your own theory is working against you. If you knew she wasn’t being hypnotized—then why did you keep doing it?” Lee pressed his palm into the table. “It doesn’t make logical sense unless it was your ruse to frame Raven for the murders. That’s what an expert witness for the prosecution is going to say, and the jury will eat it up.”
“You know this because you’re a lawyer?” Donnely sneered.
“No, but I know people, and I’ve been involved with a lot of jury trials. What you’re doing is setting up an implausible scenario. You’re stating Raven wasn’t under your influence because she exhibited these mannerisms proving she wasn’t hypnotized. Raven will say she was hypnotized because she exhibited those same symptoms. All the prosecution will need is one tape of a hypnotized individual running into something, and your defense is out the window.”
Donnely blew out through puffed cheeks. “Listen, you don’t understand what’s been going on with her.”
“Why don’t you let us in on that.”
“She’s a disturbed girl.”
“And your professional basis for that assessment is what exactly?”
“One, the things I alre
ady stated. Raven was never hypnotized. Two, surely you can see how her mind became deluded living on that isolated property with a psychotic chemist who’d created a particularly virulent bioweapon. She was schooled in living as an isolationist. Taught how to use weapons—like knives—at close range. And three, Raven’s confession of what happened the day her father took her family hostage.”
Lee gave a warm smile. “We appreciate that but Nathan and I are fully aware of what happened. We were there.”
Gavin turned around and looked directly at Nathan. “I know you had a special relationship with Raven. She spoke very fondly of you.”
Nathan shrugged off the compliment. “How does that bear on what you’re going to say? I was trying to help her. It seems you were doing the opposite.”
“You were with the FBI then. You’re likely familiar with all the evidence in the case.”
“Where are you going with this, Donnely?” Lee asked.
Gavin continued to skewer Nathan with his gaze. “Weren’t you confused by the two sets of fingerprints on the knife?”
Nathan eased off the wall. “It’s not unusual to find more than one set of prints on a knife in a household full of people.”
“Maybe a butter knife. But a hunting knife?”
Lee tried to pull Gavin’s focus away from Nathan. “If you’re claiming Raven held that weapon, you just said yourself John was teaching Raven to use them.”
Donnely kept an even stare on Nathan. “You’re right, he was. But the position of the prints will be different if you’re stabbing someone rather than if you’re holding it to draw the blade over someone’s throat.” He took his index finger and mimicked the movement across his neck.
“That’s enough,” Lee warned. “This isn’t helping you.”
“What I suggest to Nathan is that he fess up about the position of those smaller prints on the knife which he never disclosed to the public.”
“Why does this matter?” Lee asked.
“Because Raven confessed to me that John told her if she just killed one sibling all the rest would live. He just didn’t keep his promise in the end and came for her next.”
Poison Page 27