David Baldacci - Memory Man

He had a photo of Leopold on his phone, but of course he couldn’t show it to Rabinowitz to see if it might be Sizemore.

He looked at Rabinowitz. “Do you know what happened to Sizemore? Why did he leave the institute?”

The older man was nervously tapping his fingers against his thigh. “As I said, I was gone long before he left.”

“But you also said you keep in touch with former colleagues.”

“Yes, well, he had some professional issues.”

“What sort?”

“I really can’t get into that. But I can tell you that they were serious enough for him to be asked to leave.”

Jamison said, “What sort of problems did you have with him, Decker?”

“He had his protégés, and I wasn’t one of them.”

Rabinowitz said, “Chris did have his favorites. I would like to think that I treated all of our patients with the same level of courtesy, respect, and thoroughness. But I’m also human, and I of course would have certain cases that interested me more than others. There are very few blunt-force brain trauma cases where the patient actually died before being resuscitated that result in the sort of cognitive rerouting that took place with you, Amos.” Rabinowitz paused to smile. “And I’ve been a Bears fan for over sixty years, and though you played for Cleveland, you were the only NFL player to ever come through our door. Now that you mention it, I do remember Chris having issues with that. Whether it was from a genuine dislike of you, or rather from the effects of his personal issues that later led him to leave the institute, I don’t know. But he seemed to think that with you our priorities were off.”

“I don’t get that,” said Jamison. “What would he base that on?”

Decker answered, “Sizemore thought that, being a football player, I had accepted the risk of getting my brain destroyed. I guess he thought I was taking up the space of someone who deserved to be there more.”

Rabinowitz said, “Now, that I didn’t know.”

“That’s because I never told anyone. He let that slip during a ‘conversation’ we had one day in the hallway.”

“That was highly unprofessional of him,” said Rabinowitz sharply.

“Perhaps. But I also never considered that it might be the motivation for what happened at Mansfield.”

Jamison said, “So the million-dollar question: Where is Dr. Sizemore now?”

Rabinowitz said, “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him since I left the institute.”

“Maybe he moved to the Burlington area?” commented Jamison.

Decker said, “If he’s still in the profession he has to be on a database somewhere for licensing purposes. We should start there.”

“I can call the institute and get whatever information I can,” offered Rabinowitz. “Since it doesn’t involve a patient, I think they would be more forthcoming. Some of them might know where Chris is now.”

Decker gave him their contact information.

“We’ll be in town for a day or so.” Decker rose and said, “Thank you, Harold, you’ve been a big help.”

Rabinowitz stood too. “I pray that Chris is not your man, but if he is I pray even harder that you will be able catch him and stop him from harming anyone else.”

“Then let’s hope that God is listening,” said Decker.

“So you think the person might kill again?” said Rabinowitz.

“I know he’ll try .”

After they left Rabinowitz, Jamison and Decker stopped to grab some lunch. While they were at a café, Decker called Lancaster and filled her in.

She said, “Okay, we’ll track down this Sizemore guy if we can. And if his prints are online somewhere we’ll subpoena them and compare them to Leopold’s. As soon as we find out anything I’ll call you.” She paused. “So, back at your old stomping grounds. I never knew you were at this institute place.”

“No one knew, other than Cassie.”

“We were partners for a long time, Amos.”

“It never occurred to me that you would be interested in my past, Mary.”

“Well, that goes to show, even people with big brains make mistakes,” she said curtly, her frustration and disappointment evident.

She clicked off and Decker set his phone down next to his plate containing a half-eaten cheeseburger and a small mound of fries.

“Everything okay?” asked Jamison.

“Yeah,” said Decker as he picked at a fry.

Jamison said, “If it turns out Sizemore is Leopold, he must be one sick dude.”

“If he killed thirteen people he is one sick dude.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“So explain.”

She slid her plate aside and leaned in. “The ‘diss’ was you got more attention than some of his protégés? Like it was a beauty pageant for brains? Really? So in retaliation he kills all those people?”

“Correction, if he is Leopold, he killed no one. Well, we don’t know who killed Agent Lafferty. But Leopold was in jail when my family was killed and also when the shootings at Mansfield happened. He has a rock-solid alibi. And it seems that both incarcerations were planned.”

“Meaning he knew your family was going to be killed and he knew the shooter was going to attack Mansfield?”

“The timing of his coming in to confess to the Burlington police was a little too coincidental. And I checked on the arrest record from Cranston. Disorderly conduct. He spent one night in jail and that was it. They didn’t even bother arraigning him. They just let him go the next morning. But that unequivocally proved he could not have committed the murders of my family.”

“Right, so he’s partnered with someone, our five-foot-eleven skinny dude turned broad-shouldered maniac, to do the actual murdering.”

“And there is no way that person is Sizemore.”

“So if Sizemore is the one you dissed, he’s partnered with this person who impersonated a waitress at the bar. I wonder who that person is that kills so readily?”

“I wonder too.”

“But still, if Sizemore is behind this, how does someone that effed up become a psychologist?”

“Something in his mind could have snapped. He could be bipolar and the meds aren’t working anymore. Leopold apparently told his lawyer he was bipolar and had gone off his meds, or at least that’s what the PD told the judge. Or he could have had some sort of trauma, either physical or emotional, that changed him. He had a lump on his neck and drug tracks on his arm. Could be a lot of stuff going on inside him. A lot can happen to someone in twenty years. If it is Sizemore, he took a risk in letting me confront him. He knows how my mind works. I don’t forget anything. If it is him, I could have recognized him.”

“But you didn’t. So maybe it’s not him.”

“Maybe.”

“It’s still all so scary.”

“Of course it’s scary. Because something like that could happen to any of us.”

“Or he could be just plain evil.”

“Or he could be,” agreed Decker. “Does that make you feel better?”

She shivered. “I don’t think anything about this case could make me feel better.”

Decker’s phone buzzed. He answered it.

Rabinowitz said, “Amos, I don’t know if this is good or bad news, but the institute has been forwarding professional mail to Chris since he left. Enough time has passed that it’s slowed to a trickle, but they did have an address.”

Decker wrote it down, thanked Rabinowitz, and then looked up the address on his phone.

He said, “It’s halfway between Chicago and Burlington. We passed it coming up here.”

“Meaning if he still lives there he could get to Burlington and back relatively easily.”