Robert Walker - Fatal Instinct

“ That bad, huh?”

Lou slumped down in the chair across from him and dropped the paper in front of his captain all in one languid movement. He seemed to be melting into his chair, shutting his eyes, feigning sleep. “Been reading up on self-hypnosis techniques, Captain,” Lou said. “Everywhere you look, everybody's saying how important relaxing is-to the health, the body, the soul, I mean…”

Lou kept his eyes closed tight as he spoke and as Rychman scanned the story on page one. The byline was that of a now familiar reporter, Jim Drake III.

The headline was scorching: “6th Claw Mutilation Murder-Police Without a Suspect, Leads or Clues.”

“ Just heard it on a talk show the other day, 'Donahue.' Had a lot of doctors on and they all stressed the same thing, about learning how to relax,” Lou prattled on. “Say if you can't relax, you'll wind up with bleeding ulcers, a heart condition or in a mental ward, or all three.”

Rychman wasn't relaxing as he read down the column, his anger rising with each printed word. He was now at the center of the story where he was, named as a questionable selection to head the special task force put together by the city to end the terror.

And the bastard actually brought up a bar fight that was sixteen years old, along with Rychman's controversial and nasty divorce.

“ Christ,” he muttered, “Jesus Christ.” He imagined Dr. Jessica Coran in her hotel room reading the story over her coffee.

“ Consider the source,” said Lou cautiously.

Rychman stood up, knocking over his coffee, cursing and slapping the paper down so hard that papers flew in all directions. “Lou, I'd like to consider the source. I'd like to hang the goddamned source. I want a fucking gag order on this whole damn building, you got that, Lou?” And as he spoke, the door burst open and in walked the mayor, his Commissioner, Eldritch, and Dr. Jessica Coran.

So she's an early riser, too, he thought as he stared across the disheveled desk at them, Lou trying desperately to pick up the loose papers and dry up the still-dripping coffee.

Rychman made no attempt to hide his anger. Everyone must know that the press seemed to be stalking Alan Rychman. But he calmed long enough to say, “I guess you've seen the papers.”

“ Making us look like idiots, this bastard,” said Commissioner Eldritch.

His Honor the mayor, Dan Halle, came right to the point, his style, which Rychman liked. Halle was concerned about the image of his office and the police department, but he seemed also genuinely concerned about the realities of the situation. Alan Rychman had learned on earlier occasions that His Honor had studied the facts and details of the Claw slayings. He knew what they were up against. “Alan, I'm very concerned that we make some kind of break in this bloody case. We've got to show some progress. That's why we called in the FBI, and that's why they sent Dr. Coran, here.”

The commissioner was not so straightforward, and while Coran was nodding, saying they'd met, Carl Eldritch said, “That's why you were selected to head the task force, Alan.”

Rychman knew a lie when he heard one. The C.P. wanted to remain the C.P., and Alan presented a real threat to him, and they both knew it. Eldritch knew that it was a make-or-break case, and he also knew that the department was coming up empty at every turn. He was gambling that Rychman and company would be as inept as the press painted them. He continued, his tongue greased, Rychman believed, so that he wouldn't choke on his own lies. “I'm sorry I couldn't have been in two places at once yesterday when Dr. Coran arrived. The mayor had hoped to be here, too, but circumstances-”

“ Circumstances being as they are, I fully understand,” Rychman said with an edge to his voice. “Not to worry, everything's in hand. The ball's rolling, right, Lou?”

Pierce had remained silent and had slipped toward the door. He was about to disappear when Rychman asked the question.

He inched back through the door, saying, “Absolutely… everything is under way. And might I add, sir, that everyone associated with the task force is enthusiastic and hopeful.”

“ Good, good,” said the mayor, “we need all the enthusiasm we can muster for this heinous work.”

Lou finished his disappearing act.

Rychman exchanged a look with Jessica Coran. Lou had turned off the radio, tidied the mess Rychman had made, and had done so like a doting servant or faithful wife.

“ It must be good to have such a loyal aide,” she said.

“ I insist on loyalty.”

“ So,” interrupted the C. P, “what're your plans at this point. Captain Rychman?”

“ Plans?”

“ For the apprehension of this… this Claw character.”

“ We are proceeding as quickly as we can, but the task force was just begun yesterday; if you remember, sir, I suggested such a special team two weeks ago, but-”

“ Two weeks ago there were only a few deaths, one victim a prostitute,” countered the C.P. “Allocating a fortune in city funds to this madman-at that time-”

“- would have reflected badly in the papers, I know,” Rychman finished. “Now we've arrived at the same destination. So tell me honestly what sends you gentlemen here, besides this?” He punched his large forefinger at the copy of the Times.

“ It's not just the press, Captain Rychman,” said the mayor. “It's everyone, the clergy, the PTA, the Rotarians, for Christ's sake, the whole city, the community.”

Alan put up his hands. “You think I don't know that everyone is on us?”

“ We need to make an arrest.” The C.P. finally got around to what the visit was actually about.

“ Arrest, huh?” he said, muttering under his breath, “Jesus.” Rychman began to pace like a large, caged bear, then stopped before Jessica and coolly stared her in the eye, asking, “That'd look good? Calm the community brain? Do you agree with this… thinking, Dr. Coran? That we ought to make a wholesale arrest?”

“ No one said wholesale arrest, Alan,” interrupted Eldritch.

But neither Jessica nor Alan Rychman heard him, so intent remained their attention to each other. She said calmly, “No… no, I don't believe an arrest for the sake of an arrest will, in the long run, serve any purpose.”

Rychman's face brightened, but he quickly squelched his smile when he saw the confusion in Eldritch's eyes. Eldritch had apparently believed Dr. Coran was sold on the idea.

She stood up and paced, her cane tapping out a soft requiem. “Gentlemen, detaining and questioning your thousands of MSDOs has already cost more time, energy and paperwork than you can afford, creating several thousand paper trails that will likely lead nowhere.”

“ We can't stand idly by a moment longer!” shouted Eldritch.

She met his eyes. “This killer is not your usual sex offender; he's not a rapist; he's in no way a typical killer.”

Mayor Halle asked her what she was driving at.

“ This maniac is the rarest of murderers. A man who has acquired a taste for female flesh and female suffering. He kills women because he hates women; he is a predator, and people of my sex are his prey.”

“ Is that how you see it, Captain?” Halle asked.

Rychman nodded vigorously. “That's about how 1 see it, yes.”

Dr. Coran continued. “His taste for flesh is an integral part of his gaming.”

“ Gaming?”

“ Fantasizing, fantasy fulfillment, sport, if you like.”

Mayor Halle swallowed. “Well… yes…”

“ He hunts for flesh, for the excitement of it all, to quench a perceived need,” she said, pacing nervously before the three men. “A flesh-eater, like a blood-drinker, is an aberration far beyond your normal sex deviant. He's gone so far beyond what we know as our normal lunatic that… well, this man has returned to a state of cannibalism; in his head and in his genes he is a cannibal doing only what comes naturally, like the flesh-eating ape from which mankind evolved.”