Resuscitation (23 page)

But it wasn’t just his obsession with the research project that gripped him, nor his growing apathy toward his family. There was another issue that weighed heavily on his mind. Why the sudden uncontrollable fixation with sex? Somehow, he had managed to defeat the temptation to have his way with Genevieve. Whatever honorable values remained in his character at that time, he had been able to overcome his raw desires. But with Rachael, it had been quite another story. He had not been the same man who spared Genevieve. Not only did he take Rachael without regret or the slightest compassion, he had deceived her into believing that he would set her free.

He gulped the last of the Scotch and poured another. This time, nearly to the brim.

His first instinct was to blame his preoccupation with sex on his lackluster physical relationship with Nicole. He had tried unsuccessfully to ignore his frustrations for years. He loved her. At least he thought it was love. But a nymph she was not. With her, he would never fulfill his deepest, darkest sexual fantasies. She could never be Eva. Or Rachael. Conservative and inhibited, Nicole would never consider experimentation or anything even remotely unconventional. He almost dreaded those rare occasions when she was actually “in the mood.” Every time they made love—if that’s what you could call it—he felt as though he was performing as a circus animal, trained to obey her every whim. He had never imagined that he would force himself on a woman, never dreamed how delightful it could be. But oh, how much he had enjoyed ravishing Rachael. His one regret was that he had never had the opportunity to take his cousins so brutally. But he remembered them every time he penetrated a woman.

He still couldn’t understand why he hadn’t felt compassion for Beer-Man. It was as if he had been operating on a cadaver rather than a human. The experiments he’d performed were beyond excruciating; Julian knew this, yet he felt no empathy for Beer-Man’s suffering. Granted, Beer-Man had humiliated him. But did that give him reason to treat him so sadistically?

At one point during the experiments, he had not given Beer-Man sufficient anesthesia to paralyze his muscles. Right in the middle of a major surgical procedure, Beer-Man’s ribcage spread wide open, his heart completely exposed, Julian was ready to perform an ablation on the posterior of the left atrial wall with radio-frequency energy when Beer-Man’s entire body began to spasm, and, remarkably, he screamed so loudly that the duct tape broke free from his mouth and Julian thought for sure a passerby would hear him. Fortunately, he had a syringe of anesthesia handy. But something strange happened. Instead of immediately injecting the potent drug into Beer-Man to render him unconscious and relieve his agony, Julian hesitated as if he had derived pleasure from Beer-Man’s suffering. He remembered glancing at the pliers sitting on the surgical cart and feeling a wave of excitement. Had he lost all sense of reason and humanity?

He finished his second Scotch, the smooth alcohol doing what it did best. His thoughts shifted to another disturbing issue. For now, he would enjoy his sovereignty and continue with his surgical experiments. But in a few days, Nicole, Isabel, and Lorena would return, and again they would restrict his activities. How could he be husband and father and still complete his research? He had no answers, at least not yet, but he started to see that the situation called for a permanent solution.

Emily had just prepared breakfast: chocolate-chip pancakes for Angelina, Eggbeaters and turkey sausage for Josephine, and a Spanish omelet for Sami. Emily sipped orange spice herbal tea.

“You’re a gift from the gods, Emily,” Sami said.

“You might change your mind when you taste the omelet.”

“And what’s with you, Cuz?” Sami said. “You on a diet?”

“Trying to lose a few pounds.”

“You look fine to me,” Josephine said. “I could understand it if you had hips like my Sami.”

“Gee, thanks, Mom, I can always count on you for support.”

“Would you rather have me lie?”

“Yes,” Sami said. “As a matter of fact I would.”

Emily, five-foot-eight, silky black hair to the middle of her back, chocolate brown eyes, and an absolutely perfectly proportioned figure, needed to be on a diet about as much as Sami needed to eat a pound of Godiva chocolates every day. Sami was about to taste the first bite of her omelet when her cell phone rang. She shuddered instinctually, thinking that it might be Al with bad news. But then she realized she had not heard his personalized ring. Relieved, she excused herself, walked into the living room, and opened the Motorola flip phone.

“This is Sami.”

“Ms. Rizzo, this is Mayor Sullivan. Is this a convenient time for us to talk?”

When would it
not
be convenient to speak with the mayor of San Diego?
“Absolutely, Mayor.”

“Just so you know,” the mayor said, “Captain Davidson and Police Chief Larson are conferencing on this call.”

Sami wasn’t sure what to think. That the three of them called could only mean that whatever they wished to discuss had to be important. No, more than important. Monumental. “What can I do for you, Mayor?”

“This is Chief Larson, Sami. Are you still interested in being reinstated as a homicide investigator?”

Her first thought was to pinch herself. Since Chief Larson had rejected her request, she’d completely wiped the possibility from her thoughts and decided to focus on school, regardless of her apprehensions about the life of a social worker. “To be honest, Chief, I kind of put it on the back burner.”

“Well,” the mayor said, “I’d like you to consider putting it on the
front
burner.”

“Sami,” Captain Davidson said, “we’ve just been informed that two more bodies were found at the Fanuel Street Park.”

A long silence.

Chief Larson chimed in. “There are many similarities between these homicides and the two previous, but our killer has kicked it up a notch.”

“What do you mean?” Sami asked.

“We’d rather discuss the details face to face,” Captain Davidson said.

“Boy,” Sami said, “I don’t know what to say. But I’d like to at least bounce this off Al.”

“Ms. Rizzo,” the mayor interrupted, “we now know for certain that we’ve got another serial killer on our hands. You’ve got more experience dealing with one than anyone else in homicide. Detective Diaz is in Rio and no one has a clue when he’ll return. In the meantime, we’ve got some lunatic walking and stalking the streets of San Diego. This is not what people expect in America’s Finest City.”

Sami wished she could talk to Al. “As much as I’d like to say yes, I need a little time.”

“In all honesty, Ms. Rizzo,” the mayor said, “we don’t have the luxury of time.”

Another long silence.

“Agree to be reinstated,” the mayor said, “and I’ll personally guarantee that all your benefits and seniority will be restored. We can’t pussyfoot around. If we can’t make a deal with you, we’ll be forced to seek help elsewhere. We need your decision right now.”

“If I accept your offer, I have two questions. First, how quickly do you expect me to start? Second, who will I partner with?”

“We want you yesterday,” Chief Larson said. “We have to locate this maniac before there’s a fifth victim.”

“The entire homicide squad will be at your disposal,” Mayor Sullivan said. “But be warned. If you’re not making significant progress within the next week, the FBI will muscle in and take over.”

Fraught with uncertainty, Sami now realized that her idealistic vision of once again carrying the title of Homicide Investigator suddenly seemed like the foolish ambition of a spoiled child.

“Just give me twenty-four hours,” Sami said.

“Twelve hours, Ms. Rizzo,” the mayor said. “That’s the best I can do. Call me on my cell no later than ten tonight. Can you live with that?”

“I guess I have little choice.”

Sami scribbled the number she gave her on an envelope.

“One more thing,” the mayor added. “If you agree to be reinstated, I want you in Captain Davidson’s office tomorrow morning at eight sharp for a comprehensive briefing.”

After Sami hung up, she was astonished that both her mom and Emily said they supported her regardless of her decision—her mom reminded her that she’d broken a promise to her father. Sami sequestered herself in her bedroom and carefully weighed the pros and cons. Was she really prepared to be a homicide detective again?

For some reason, it was not the impending offer from the mayor or Al’s sister on the brink of death that first came to her mind. It was Simon. Her visit to Pelican Bay State Prison did not go as planned. She thought that she could control the situation, keep Simon on the defensive, but he had proved otherwise. She had gone to see him with hopes that a face-to-face encounter would give her closure. But Simon, true to his nature, completely took control and forced her to literally bolt out the door before she had a chance to say what she needed to say.

She now clearly understood that the missing words from their dialogue were, “I forgive you, Simon.” This was the declaration that would have freed her soul and given her closure. How could she find peace and harmony in her life with so much hatred in her heart? All her anger and rage didn’t hurt Simon one bit. But it had been eating her up. She remembered a quote she’d heard a few years ago:

“Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.”

Sami had been feeding herself a steady dose of poison for nearly two years. She had to let it go.

After a few hours of teetering back and forth, her mind aswarm with morbid visions of what might happen if she once again wore the prestigious badge of a homicide investigator, she concluded that she was incapable of making the decision on her own and needed to speak with Al. Guilt-ridden to be burdening her lover with the trials of her life, she reluctantly made the call.

“Hello, Sweetheart,” Al said, his voice flat and lifeless.

“Any change in Aleta’s condition?”

“Negative.”

“That’s good news, right?”

“If you look at the glass as half-full, I guess it is.”

She struggled to find the appropriate words. “I’m sure my timing is for shit, but can I ask for a little advice?”

“The most independent woman of the new millennium actually wants advice from
me
?” For the first time since he had gotten the call about his sister, his witty sense of humor peeked out from behind his dwindling hope.

“I’m really at my wits’ end.” She gave him a recap of her conversation with Mayor Sullivan and company. “I feel like I’m between a rock and hard spot.”

“I’m not sure I can help you. You’re a great cop. Top notch. But I can’t feel…as you know…what’s in your heart. Working as a homicide investigator is unlike any other career. You can’t approach it with a lukewarm attitude. It’s gotta be one thousand percent. Every day. Every minute.” He paused for a moment. “There’s only one question for you to consider: are you capable of giving it your all?”

She could never expect viable advice from Al if she didn’t share every detail with him. It would be like expecting him to complete a five-hundred-piece puzzle with four hundred fifty pieces. “I flew up to Pelican Bay State Prison and visited Simon.” She hadn’t expected that her announcement would slip off her tongue so effortlessly.

“Are you fucking
serious
?”

“Please don’t be pissed at me, Al. No one knows more than you that I haven’t been myself since the incident with Simon. I needed closure, and Doctor Janowitz felt that the only way to put this to rest once and for all was for me to confront Simon face-to-face.”

“So you’re telling me that you actually feel closure?”

“I blew it. I really blew it.”

“Talk to me.”

She told Al how Simon took control and derailed her plan to forgive him. There was a long silence before he spoke.

“In my opinion, I think it’s time for you to slay the dragon. Doctor Janowitz was right. You have to face your fears head on. When you resigned, I had to enlist every ounce of willpower to keep my big mouth shut. You’re a social worker about as much as I’m a rocket scientist. Whether you accept it or not, detective work is in your blood. It’s what you were meant to do. I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that I have concerns. But I have to deal with them myself. Personally, I think you’ve been out of sorts more because you resigned than because of your ordeal with Simon. It’s been over two years. You have suffered and our relationship has been strained. Brush yourself off, climb back up on that horse, and ride like there’s no tomorrow. Cause there isn’t. Not for you. And not for us as a couple.

“If you feel in your heart that you have to forgive Simon to put this to rest once and for all, then write him a damned letter telling him exactly how you feel. Forgive him, Sami. And forgive yourself for hating him.”

His was the taut dialogue of a warrior. Sami felt his words like a face full of ice-cold water. “Thank you for being so honest.”

“Now call the mayor, write the letter, and get on with your life.”