Robert Walker - Darkest Instinct

“ What’s that?” asked Coudriet, still in an unusually upbeat mood, like a kid pulling a high school prank and enjoying the exquisite moment in which his plan comes together.

“ Nothing… never mind,” she replied.

“ You know you’ve made the right choice; you’re doing the right thing here,” he told her. He was about to shut down his E-mail when a message for Jessica came over. “Something for you here… from London… that fellow Moyler.”

Nigel Moyler said that he was sending a fax over, a description and police sketch of the man who had terrorized the White Chapel District for four years only to suddenly cease, desist and disappear last year.

“ It should be coming over your fax there any moment now. Sorry it took so long to get back to you there. Took some time to locate the file. It had gone to our dead file office. But now here it comes, and I daresay you will find it of peculiar interest.” He signed off as Insp. Moy., Scotyd.

The fax machine began a staccato chorus of cranks, churns and beeps, the paper crawling ahead like an inch- worm, too slow for Jessica’s patience. “Come on… come on,” she nursed it along before ripping it out.

The likeness was remarkable, stunning and stark.

“ Send Moyler a message. Tell him we are ninety-nine percent sure that his man is here. Ask him to find out what he can about a Patric Allain over there. Anything on file- police record, prints, anything at all.”

“ Where are you going?”

“ Going to find Santiva, tell him what I’ve done and inform him that this bloody case has greater jurisdictional boundaries than he imagined.”

“ Yeah, right.” Coudrient chuckled lightly. “What’s so funny?”

“ Santiva… He may just want to get the Queen of England’s fucking views on the case before he steps on her bleeding toes.”

“ Hey, just a minute, Dr. Coudriet,” she brought him up short. “It’s not Santiva’s fault that your local politicians are more concerned about the blight on their tourist trade than the lives of the victims. Or that only Allison Norris, of all the victims, counts!”

“ What are you saying, Dr. Coran? That it’s hardly so simple as all that?” Coudriet was being facetious now, still on a high.

“ If Eriq hadn’t had his hands tied by others, that electronic wanted poster we just sent would’ve gone out twenty-four hours ago.”

“ You think for a moment that he’s going to place the safety of prospective victims of this madman ahead of his own ambitions? Think again. I used to be him. I know. It comes with the territory.”

“ That’s not Eriq.”

“ Power seeks out power, corrupts the soul and-”

“ You don’t know what you’re talking about, Doctor, so please be silent!” She stormed from the laboratory offices and took the elevator to the top floor, where she got out, located a stairwell and climbed to the roof. There she breathed in the night air and stared into the blinking eyes of the black firmament overhead. She felt tears welling up-tears for the victims, their families, Judy Templar, herself-and she wondered little why she’d so easily and readily sided with first Donna LeMonte and now Coudriet against Eriq Santiva. Still, she felt a wave of remorse flow over her, and she silently wondered, Why am I being so self-destructive? But neither the stars nor the land or sea or sky gave her reply….

Early the Next Day in Coudriet’s Office

Women all over Miami and the state of Florida were now being more cautious, for the Miami Herald and the six o’clock news had carried Patric Allain’s likeness into the homes of anyone whose newspaper subscription hadn’t lapsed or who owned a TV set. Armed with the knowledge that Allison Norris, Tammy Sue Sheppard, the more recently identified Kathy Harmon and others like them were abducted through chicanery and charm at local seaside restaurants along the Intracoastal Waterway, police officials had stepped up their surveillance of the area and had gone in with a vengeance, questioning bartenders, employees and frequent patrons of such establishments. Jessica Coran had contacted Inspector Nigel Moyler again, only to learn that there was no record of a Patric

Allain, and that the closest match was an arrest record of a Patricia Allain, an alias for a prostitute whose real name was Madeleine Tauman. She electronically asked Moyler if his killer had used a boat for his deviant operations.

Moyler’s response came up on the computer screen as “Never any killing ground located; however, it was theorized killer used a boat of some sort, yes.”

Jessica sent a reply immediately: “It’s almost a foregone conclusion here that our killer is using a boat as his killing ground. Please, see what you can learn about Patricia Allain. Long shot, but we haven’t much else to go on here.”

“ Right, and good luck. End transmission.”

The moment she ended the E-mail transmission with Moyler, Eriq Santiva entered Coudriet’s office. Livid, Eriq repeatedly slapped a copy of the Miami Herald into the palm of his hand. ‘ ‘Just who the hell gave you the authority to release this information, Dr. Coran? It’s all over the wire services, on every damned network in the nation now. Are you crazy or just an egoistic-”

“ So shoot me, Eriq.”

“ Don’t tempt me! What were you thinking? I gave you a direct order to stand down on this information until you heard otherwise from me. You know this is going to hurt us both, and you in particular, in Washington.”

“ So I’ll bleed some, but maybe in the interim, we’ve saved a life?”

“ Don’t count on it. Damnit, you might’ve at least consulted with me first.”

“ We did consult!”

“ Again then! This going over my head, looks… looks…”

“ I’m sorry if it makes you look bad, Eriq. If it hurts your male ego. That wasn’t my intention.”

“ It makes it appear that we’re at cross-purposes, Doctor.”

“ Well, maybe we are.”

He stared hard at her, fighting to control his emotions, gripping at the back of a chair, his knuckles white against his Latin skin. “Appearances are important, Jessica. You know that, I know that. I asked for a day, a lousy day, and you stab me in the back?”

“ Damnit, Eriq, it isn’t about you; it isn’t about me. It’s about the truth and the out there”-she pointed to the windows-”remember? Remember our obligation to the truth, and to people outside these walls?”

“ Nice sentiments, Jess, but-”

“- And it’s about saving lives,” she continued without a blink, her hands raised to him. “Besides, you led me to believe that the composite would at the very least go out to authorities up and down the coast.”

“ Save your crusading, Doctor. We both know this will likely send our man into hiding, possibly never to be seen again.”

“ We don’t know that, and I don’t believe it-not this guy. He’s too interested in communicating with us, and he’s out of control.”

“ You don’t know what’s going on in this madman’s brain; you can’t know it. You’re not psychic and you’re not inside his head, Jess.”

“ I know he’s still got two more verses to write.”

“ What?” Santiva was incredulous.

“ The e. j. hellering poem; he’ll have to complete it. He’ll contact us again, and he’ll go on killing.”

“ So, now you do believe you’re capable of reading his mind?”

“ Maybe… maybe…”

Santiva’s pride had obviously been badly bruised, but he was fighting to keep his calm and rational exterior intact. To this end, he now paced like a caged lion back and forth, holding his grinding teeth tightly together. Jessica appreciated this great effort.

To keep him focused, she began telling him what was in her mind. “I’ve struggled to hold up a mirror to this maniacal killer, to see him at close range, to understand him, as I’ve understood other monsters I’ve had to cope with over the years, and believe me, doing so is no simple or easy task. In fact, it costs me a great deal of sleep. Makes a person no longer at ease with herself to think like this creature, but it’s the only damned way I know to catch such a monster. You’ve got to go through the looking glass.”