Apex Predator (45 page)

As soon as he opened the door and saw both men, Steven took Cecil’s outstretched hand and pulled him in for a hug, “Look at you, you guys went into the moving business? I knew there was a bright future ahead for you two.”

Cecil returned the hug and chuckled at the joke, “You know us, anywhere we can make a buck.”

Thurman, the quieter and more pensive of the two, also gave Steven a hug, “It’s been a long time, brother, we’re really sorry about everything you’ve had to go through.”

Steven thanked him for the thought.

Cecil also took on a more serious note, “Yeah, man, we wanted to come by and see you, you know, just to make sure you were doing okay, but then we thought maybe you’d want to be alone for a while.”

Steven motioned for them to follow him to the living room, “Thanks, guys, I appreciate it, and for what it’s worth, you were right. For a while there, I needed to be alone, to figure things out.”

Steven didn’t want to get into everything that had happened, it had been all over the news and just like everybody else, the Twins were well aware of what he intended on arguing.

Never one to dally too much, Thurman got right down to business, “Well, you know you can count on us for anything you need.”

That was his way of asking what they could do for him. Steven explained everything that had happened, the media and all the attention his case was getting. He also explained how he had come to meet with Barlow, how he’d thought he was another researcher, a scientist interested in the case. That was where it had gotten interesting, he couldn’t tell them what he thought he knew, what he thought Barlow was, but he needed to give them some explanation for what he was about to ask them to do.

“After I met with the guy, I looked him up. It’s something I really should have done before agreeing to meet with him, but you know how it is, you get complacent. Anyway, after I met with the guy, I did some research and found out the guy has been a part of more than 12 multiple murders or missing persons cases over the past 10 years. He’s been doing his work for longer than that, but I only went back 10 years.

“Not only that, he was the therapist for three guys that were all accused of murder in three different states. As their therapist, he couldn’t testify in their trials, he could simply acknowledge he had been treating the defendants, and that was how he came to be mentioned in those cases. I’m not sure what the chances are, what the actual statistical odds are that he just happened to be the therapist for three different murder suspects and that he also happens to be a criminal profiler in at least 12 cases, cases where no body has ever been found and where they have no suspects. I’d be willing to bet they’re long odds, though.

“The thing is, he’s constantly on the move; therefore, the cases are in different states and different jurisdictions, so no one has ever put it together.”

There it was, that was as far as Steven was willing to risk it. He had not given them any sense of what he’d been thinking. He had simply let them know why it was he was interested in the guy. Cecil and Thurman looked at each other. With that look, they let him know that they didn’t know what the odds of such a coincidence were, but they too knew they were long odds indeed.

Thurman was the first to articulate what they all knew should come next, “We’ll get into the guy. Find out where he lives, what his patterns are, you know the drill. If he moves around as much as you say he does, he probably keeps more than one house. We’ll get into that first. C, I’m sure this cat has passwords for his passwords wherever he lives, so we’ll have to get the Russian on it.”

Before Steven could protest about bringing someone else into this, Cecil interjected, “Don’t worry, bro, this guy is a Russian outfit guy and he operates out of Lithuania. He’s as off the grid as you can get. He has enough computing power to bring down the servers at companies like Visa and American Airlines, he’s actually done that, wiped the American Airlines reservation system and he did it because they lost his luggage. Whatever this guy’s security measures are, the Russian will get through them.”

Steven nodded, a thought occurred to him all of a sudden, something he hadn’t thought before but which was a possibility, “You know, it may be that he doesn’t have any extreme security measures. I mean, why should he, right? Maybe to hold patients’ confidential files, but that shouldn’t be anything more complicated than a small safe.”

Thurman nodded, “You may be right. All the better that way. Less time to get what we are looking for.”

As that was Thurman’s way of asking what exactly it was they were looking for, Steven obliged. “I just want to know what this guy’s real connection to all these cases is. Maybe it is just coincidence that every case he’s consulted or been the therapist in is a case where young men disappeared or were murdered by one of his patients. Maybe he specializes in missing young men situations, maybe, but doubtful. I just want to know what is underneath the façade he puts on.”

Thurman and Cecil listened carefully, they understood what it was Steven was looking for, but they also had questions of their own and there just wasn’t an easy way to ask them.

Once Steven finished, Cecil asked, “You know you can count on us, Steve, you always will, but we got to know, is this something to do with everything else going on? With your case and all that?”

Steven knew the question would come sooner or later and he wasn’t sure how he would handle it until the very moment when they had asked the question, “Yeah, it’s something to do with the science, with the argument I will be presenting as a defense. But it isn’t related to the case at all, I haven’t spoken with anyone about Barlow and I plan on keeping it that way.

“You two are the only ones I have spoken with. I wish I could tell you guys more, but honestly I don’t even really know what it is I’m looking for. I just have a feeling about the guy and maybe I’m paranoid, or maybe I’m looking for monsters under the bed where there aren’t any, but I need to know what this guy’s about.”

Both men were nodding as he was speaking. These were men that had been in some pretty dicey situations under Steven’s command and they had learned long ago to trust the man’s instincts. Those instincts had saved their skin more than once.

Thurman got up and Cecil followed, “No worries, man, sometimes you don’t know what you’re looking for until you find it.”

Steven hugged both men and sent them on their way. Now it was just a waiting game. Once he’d seen them off, he made himself a quick bite and washed it down with water. He hadn’t known just how hungry he was until he had finished his sandwich. He called Beth to check on her and the kids. As he had suspected, mainstream media looking for an angle had flooded the town, and as he had hoped, they had not been welcomed nor assisted by the small Vermont community of Queensbury.

After hanging up with Beth and as he was getting ready to go to bed, he got a call from Drew. “Steven! Where the hell have you been? Don’t you ever check your messages?”

Steven had to smile, “Only the messages I want to get.”

Drew didn’t pay attention, “Well, I’ve been trying to get hold of you. We have a hearing the day after tomorrow. Just like we told you, the DA has asked that the judge decide as a matter of law that Riche was a human being. That means that the judge could basically crush our defense before we even get off the ground. Basically, he would be deciding that Riche was human before we ever present any of our evidence.

“Max, Ray and I don’t think that will be the case, we have a defense-friendly judge, and we have enough solid science to at least present the argument.”

Steven interrupted, “Ray, who’s Ray?”

Drew sounded impatient on his end of the phone, “Ray is an attorney that Max and I brought in for the case. Trust me, we need this guy. He’s an older guy, old-school attorney, not too flashy and a great litigator.

“We need him because when we put the expert witnesses on the stand it, the one who conducts the direct should be someone who comes across as a wise old hand, someone who has seen it all. We need for the jury to listen to this guy and to feel like they’ve been listening to a story while sitting on grandpa’s knee.”

Steven chuckled on his end, “Okay, okay, I get it, you recruited Santa Claus to be on our team.”

Now it was Drew who chuckled, “That’s right and who better to know who’s been naughty or nice.”

“Ohh, that was awful,” Steven winced at the cheesy reference.

Drew went on, “Anyway, you need to come in sometime tomorrow so you can meet Ray and so we can go over all of the evidence we’ll be presenting. It’s an evidentiary hearing, so the lawyers will do all of the talking. We’re going to get started early, so just come when you’re ready.”

Steven agreed to be there, hung up the phone and went about getting ready for bed. Before going to bed Steven sat in front of his laptop trying to find whatever additional information he could about Barlow’s education and early years. He graduated from UC San Diego with a double major in chemistry and pharmacology, then he got his medical degree at Harvard and interned at Johns Hopkins and at USC Medical Center. He started a neurology practice early in his career, but that hadn’t lasted for long. After he closed his practice, there was no information on the man for six years when he showed up as a profiling consultant for the San Bernardino sheriff’s office. After that first case, Barlow showed up all over the country, always as a consultant or a profiler. In every instance, the case had to do with young men going missing and in every instance, a suspect was never developed. He had also shown up in three cases where his patient had gone on to commit several murders. The mentions were brief as it related to Barlow. He was simply mentioned as one of the doctors that had treated the suspect. No authority or reporter had made the connection given the fact the cases were in completely different states and jurisdictions. Steven finally closed his laptop, his eyes were dry from staring at the screen and he had to get up early.

The next morning, Steven showered, dressed and went to sit at the kitchen table to drink his coffee and read the newspaper. As he expected, his story was the cover story on the front page, as it had been for the past week, and as it would probably be for the foreseeable future. He put most of the paper aside and just read the sports pages. At least there he knew he would not be reading about himself, but he would be reading about the Knicks and how horrible they were this year. He finished his coffee, got his coat from the front closet and went downstairs where he knew there would be a sea of reporters waiting for him, just like there had been all week. He waited in the lobby of his building until he saw the Town Car, and when it was directly in front of the door, he went out.

As he was quickly making his way through the reporters and the security staff in front of the building, he ran straight into a woman who had her arms loaded with packages and was also trying to make her way through the crowd as she walked down the sidewalk. They bumped into each other with some force. Steven moved people aside to help her pick up her packages. The woman was also trying to pick up her things, but the commotion and the pushing and shoving from the reporters made it difficult. Once she had her packages back in hand, she thanked Steven and went on her way. Steven jumped into the waiting car and got on his way.

As soon as he settled in the car, he noticed that it was not the same driver that had been driving him, “Where’s Manny today?”

The driver looked in the rearview mirror and responded, “Took a sick day. Must be coming down with something.”

As he listened to the man, Steven felt strange, as if he were hearing what the driver had said through a thick glass partition. He looked out the window and blinked several times, trying to get his eyes to focus on something, anything, but he just couldn’t do it. As he leaned back in the seat, he realized he was fading and fast. With his last remaining bit of consciousness, he tried to grab the door handle to open it, but he just didn’t have the strength. His last waking thought was of the woman with the packages…

When he finally opened his eyes, he was sitting in the middle of a drab, nondescript room with a bed, a small desk and a television. It looked like any one of thousands of rooms in small motels all over the country. He hands and ankles were cuffed to the chair he was sitting in and he had a piece of duct tape over his mouth. At first he thought he was alone in the room, but then he heard the faucet run in the bathroom. He couldn’t turn his head far enough to see who was behind him, but he knew whoever it was was standing at the threshold of the bathroom because the light was projecting their shadow on the floor. Steven looked around the room to try to get as much detail as he possibly could about where he was. There was nothing in the room that could tell him where he was. He could hear the rumble of big 18-wheelers roaring nearby, which meant this was exactly what it looked like, a little motel on the side of the interstate, somewhere where tired drivers could put their heads down for a few hours or where weary families could stop and rest on their way to grandma’s house.

Loomis tested the cuffs on his wrist and on his ankles, there was absolutely no play in either, they were firmly on. Finally, a voice came from behind Loomis. He recognized it immediately.

Barlow walked from the bathroom and sat on the bed directly in front of Steven, “I’m sorry for the extreme measures, Mr. Loomis, but I’m sure you can understand that I simply could not have you free while I talk to you. I hope you can appreciate the risks that I took in order to make this little meeting possible. Switching cars was easy enough, but to administer the sleeping agent and to do it in the middle of a crowd of reporters, now that took some finesse.

“After our last meeting, I was quite interested in you, far more than I would have believed. My initial interest had to do with young Mr. Riche’s exploits, but after talking to you, after observing you, my interests have grown much further than they had been originally. Even so, I was prepared to simply observe you from afar, to do research on you through my usual sources. But then you were also clearly interested in me, so interested that you sent people to look into my background, to go in my office and into the home I keep here in New York.” Steven didn’t move or react in any way, but his eyes moved when he heard Barlow talk about being tailed.