CELEBRITY STATUS (The Kate Huntington mystery series #4) (24 page)

            “Here it is, ‘Diagnostic criteria for Antisocial Personality Disorder.’” She ran her finger down the page, then waggled her hand in a maybe-maybe not gesture. “Based on what we know, he just barely meets three, maybe four, of the criteria, which is the minimum to justify the diagnosis. Impulsive and irresponsible, definitely. Irritable and aggressive, yeah, but we don’t know if he’s ever actually been violent. His twisting things around so they’re always Cherise’s fault might indicate a broader pattern of lack of remorse.”

            “So you don’t think he’s sick enough to be our stalker?”

            “I didn’t say that. If we assume he
is
the stalker, he fits the criteria better. Killing animals is definitely aggressive, and he’s engaging in unlawful behavior, another criteria, by sending threatening notes and dog parts through the mail. But I’d have to know more about his history to tell you if he’s full-blown antisocial. Did he torture animals as a child? Get into fights with little provocation? Lie and steal in his teens?

            “What you
are
describing is something that’s not in the diagnostic manual.” She tapped the book in front of her. “An abusive personality. Starts out charming and sweet. Once the partner is hooked, becomes controlling and angry. Blames the victim, et cetera.”

            “So, bottom line?” Skip asked.

            “Someone who is abusive is capable of being your stalker. If your instincts are telling you that he was behind the bouquet and the dog head, I’d trust that. Also, his parents cutting off his money could have been a trigger, made him feel desperate. He’s rejected by them and has no place to live. So he focuses on getting Cherise to let him move in. When she rejects him too, it sends him around the bend.”

            Skip processed all that for a moment. “What about the timing? It’s been well over a year, closer to two years, since they broke up. Why’s Thompson suddenly obsessed with her now?”

            Kate shrugged, then winced when the gesture tugged at her sore elbow. “I’m just speculating, but it’s possible that he normally does the dumping when he’s tired of a relationship. Cherise may be the only woman who’s ever broken up with him. He’s managing to ignore that blow to his ego, until his parents cut off his funds and he gets tossed out of his apartment. Now his life is spinning out of control, and he twists it around to be Cherise’s fault. His problems all started when she dumped him. I’m sure he’s convinced he’s in love with her, but it’s really about control and possession. His women are his, until he doesn’t want them anymore. So she’s still his, and he’s bound and determined to get her back under his control.”

            Skip nodded. “If we push her to press charges and the police can’t get him to confess, we may not have enough evidence to get a conviction. What’s his reaction likely to be then?”

            Kate shook her head. “I’d be afraid to guess. It might scare him into backing off, or piss him off and he’ll escalate.”

            “So maybe celebrating’s a bit premature then, huh?” Skip said.

            Kate patted his hand, lying on the table. He wrapped his long fingers around hers.

            “Enough talk about psychopaths,” he said, as he lifted her hand toward his mouth to kiss the palm. The action was aborted when they heard the children clattering down the stairs.

            “You may have to behave yourself tonight, Mr. Canfield,” Kate said, tapping her bandaged arm.

            Skip pushed himself to a stand to go perform his storytelling and tuck-in duties. As he moved around her chair, he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll be extra gentle,” he whispered.

* * *

            Skip called Rose first thing Saturday morning and gave her the gist of Kate’s observations about their suspect.

            “I’m thinking we need more evidence before she presses charges,” Rose said when he’d repeated Kate’s comment that Thompson could escalate. “Let me do some more research. See if I can find a pattern of this kind of stuff in the past. Thompson grew up in Montgomery County. I’ve got a buddy from the force who transferred over there. He can at least confirm or deny if he has a juvie record. Then I’ll see if any of his old neighbors or school friends are still around.”

            “Let me know if you need my help with anything,” Skip said. “Kate had a rough week, so we’re going on a family outing this afternoon to de-stress.”

            “I’ll let you know if I dig up anything interesting,” Rose said and disconnected.

            The red minivan got somewhat better gas mileage than Skip’s Expedition, so they used it for their outing. The weather was gorgeous, one of those rare summer days in Maryland when a cool front from the north pushed the temperature and humidity down to tolerable levels. They spent the afternoon hiking some of the paths around the reservoir, then stopped for homemade ice cream at a little country store on the way back, even though it would spoil the children’s appetites for dinner.

            By Sunday, Kate’s scraped up arm had healed enough to take the bandage off but her elbow was still swollen and bruised. She decided against going to church since she didn’t particularly want to recount her adventure to every well-meaning parishioner who would ask her how she’d come by her injury.

            Skip dropped the kids off for Sunday school, and then came back home with a glint in his eye.

            Forty-five minutes later, Kate left Skip sleeping in post-coital bliss and went to pick up the kids. Heading out of the church parking lot, she decided to swing by the pharmacy and pick up a prescription, something she should have done the day before. After utilizing Walgreen’s drive-through window–such a convenience for parents of small children–she looped back around via Charles Street to head home.

            As the van crested a hill and started down the long incline to the light at Towsontown Boulevard, Billy whined, “Mommy, I wanna go home.”

            Kate glanced up in the rearview mirror. “We’re headed there now, son.” It took a second for her brain to register that the light tap she had just given the brakes had not slowed the van. Instead, it was picking up speed. Kate hit the brake pedal harder. It went to the floor.

            Glancing quickly over her shoulder, Kate veered into the far right lane and prayed no one would pull over in front of her and the light would stay green. Her first prayer was answered.

            The light turned yellow when she was still a hundred feet away. She remembered the emergency brake and crammed her left foot down on it. Nothing happened.

            She lay on the horn, praying the drivers on Towsontown Boulevard would hear it and look her way, before they drove into her path. She hit the intersection doing sixty.

            “Mommy?” Edie’s worried voice came from the back.

            “Wheee,” Billy squealed. He had no concept that one was not supposed to run red lights at sixty miles an hour.

            A driver turning left onto Charles Street saw the van careening toward him. He swerved to miss it and the tail end of his car spun around. Kate yanked her steering wheel to the right, almost losing control of the van when two of its tires hit the gravel of the shoulder. She held her breath as she narrowly missed the man’s back bumper.

            Still wrestling with the steering wheel, she realized they were now going up a gradual incline. The van was slowing ever so slightly. She downshifted. With a jolt, they slowed a bit more.

            Now some idiot was behind her, blowing his horn. Turning on her flashers, she pulled the rest of the way onto the shoulder, then downshifted again. Another jolt and the van slowed to twenty, then ten, as the upward incline became a bit steeper.

            She shifted into neutral. At the exact moment the van came to a stop, she jammed the gearshift into park. The transmission banged in protest but it kept the van from rolling back down the hill.

            Kate turned off the ignition and collapsed onto the steering wheel, trying not to pass out from hyperventilation. “What happened, Mommy?” Edie timidly asked from the back seat.

            “Do again, Mommy!” Billy said.

            “I don’t think so, son.”

            After arranging to have the disabled van towed in for their mechanic to look at the next morning, Skip took his family to the Sunday evening church service in his truck. There was an extra degree of fervor in his and Kate’s voices as they recited the prayers.

            Kate sat on his right side, her good arm stretched across the pew behind his shoulders. Edie snuggled up beside him on the other side. Skip held Billy on his lap, jiggling him on his knee when the little boy became restless.

            Afterwards they were among the stragglers greeting the rector at the back of the church. Kate gave a brief and quiet synopsis of their adventure earlier in the day. “Oh, child,” Elaine said, as she enveloped Kate in a hug. The flowing white sleeves of her robe made Kate feel like she was being held by an angel.

            “It fun. Do again!” Billy chirped.

            Elaine and Kate broke the hug, both laughing.

            “I guess it was, from the perspective of a two-year-old,” Elaine said, ruffling Billy’s hair.

            “Two an’ half,” Billy said, crossing his chubby little arms.

* * *

            Shortly after eleven on Monday, Ben called Skip. “Got a development out here. I thought you should know about this right away. Another note in today’s mail sack. This one says, ‘I’m going to take care of those people who are keeping us apart. Then we’ll be together forever, my love.’”

            “Shit. When was it mailed?”

            “Lemme see...Wednesday in L.A.”

            “I’ll call you back in a minute.” Skip had a bad feeling. He punched in the number of the auto shop.

            “I was ’bout to call you, Mr. Canfield. I ain’t never seen both the front and back brakes fail at the same time, not in twenty years of fixin’ cars, so I looked the whole system over real good. There was almost no brake fluid in the reservoir, but none of the hoses was loose or cracked. Finally found a small hole poked in the side of the reservoir, near the bottom. Woulda leaked out slow, little faster in stop an’ go traffic. And the emergency brake cable was disconnected. Coulda come loose on it’s own but considerin’ the hole in the reservoir, I’d say somebody tampered with it.”

            “You didn’t fix anything yet, did you?”

            “No, sir.”

            “Good. Don’t touch anything else. I’ll be there shortly. With the police.”

            Skip was out of his chair and striding down the hall to Rose’s office. Her door was open. She was on her computer and Mac was sitting in her visitor’s chair. Skip filled them in with two sentences. “Another note at Cherise’s, threatening ‘those people who are keeping us apart.’ The van’s brakes were sabotaged.”

            “I’m on the kids,” Mac said, jumping up from his chair.

            Skip turned to Rose. “Who we got to replace Ben out at Cherise’s? I want him on Kate again.”

            “I’ll go out for now. With the new note, she’s not gonna be happy with second string,” Rose said.

            “Who we got outside who can go in until you get there? I want Ben with Kate now!”

            Rose brought up the duty roster on her screen. “Manuel Ortiz. He’s been with us two years. He’s solid.”

            Skip nodded. “Dolph around?”

            Rose nodded, already punching Ben’s number on her phone. “I’ll have Ben at Kate’s office within an hour,” she said.

            Skip pulled out his cell as he headed for Dolph’s cubicle. He got Kate’s office voicemail. “Darlin’, there’s been a development. Kind of complicated. But there’s a slight chance of some danger to you and the kids. Very minimal but to be on the safe side, Mac’s with Maria and the kids, and Ben’s on his way to your office. You know me.” He faked a chuckle. “I’m Mr. Overly Cautious when it comes to my family.” He disconnected and dialed her cell, also got voicemail there and left the same message.

            He collected Dolph and headed for Jimmy’s Auto Place. “Who do you know at the Baltimore County Police Department who will take this seriously?” Skip asked after filling Dolph in.

            The older man scratched his head. “We call it in the normal route, they’ll send uniforms.”

            “That’s why I’m asking. Who do you know who will connect the dots without two hours or more of explanations?”

            Dolph made a call while Skip drove. “Judith, sweetheart, I need a favor,” he said into the phone.

CHAPTER TWENTY

            At Jimmy’s, Dolph’s former partner, Detective Judith Anderson, connected the dots in less than five minutes. “Shit, what are you doin’ to me here, Dolph? This is a jurisdictional nightmare. We got one vic in Howard County, another in Baltimore County and the perp’s in the city.”

            “If he’s even still there,” Skip said. “He tends to be a moving target.”

            After a short squabble over whether or not the civilians would be included in the questioning of the suspect, it was agreed that Skip would lead the way in his truck, Judith following in her unmarked car. No sirens to spook the guy.

            “I’ll ride with Judith,” Dolph said. “Give her some more background.”

            In the elegant hallway, Judith knocked on the door of apartment 310. After thirty seconds, she knocked again, this time leaning toward the door to listen for a response. She shook her head slightly, barely ruffling the cap of short dark hair surrounding her narrow face. “Hollow sound in there, bad feeling in here.” She pointed toward her chest, that was covered by a crisp white cotton shirt, tucked into tailored black slacks. She pushed aside the edge of the matching black jacket. Putting her hand on the butt of the gun holstered at her waist, she knocked again with her left hand. “Police. Open up,” she called out.