Robert Walker - Fatal Instinct

Rychman gathered members of his task force about him and gave each an assignment. One was to interrogate Boyle, to find out how the bodies were discovered and who made the call and what had alerted them. Another was to question Boyle's partner, a rookie who was badly shaken. She hadn't been prepared for what they had found inside the house on a residential block of Nantucket Street.

The Claw, if it was the work of the Claw, had deviated from his normal pattern: he had apparently killed two victims at a single location, and he had chosen to kill indoors, gaining access to the house without apparent difficulty. There were no broken windows, no broken locks. But Rychman knew it was the same bastard, or bastards. He knew it because Jessica had warned him that soon the Claw would be graduating to cannibalizing his victim's brain. He had done so with a vengeance, and he was playing a game with the authorities, seeing just how daring he could be, for the bright streetlamps of Nantucket Street must have shone on him clearly as he stepped up to the front door of the little home.

The keening of the telephone beside her bed was a welcome shock to Jessica's system. She'd been in the throes of a nightmare; an endlessly long snake had been coiling about her, making her feel pinned to the bed. She'd been frustrated by the fact that she'd known it was a nightmare, but could not break free of it. She was prisoner until the phone, an object outside herself, had forced consciousness from unconsciousness. The snake's head had had Matthew Matisak's face.

She grabbed the phone, and for just an instant, she wanted it to be Otto at the other end, but of course, that was impossible.

“ Dr. Coran? This is Sergeant Pierce.”

“ Something's happened?” She immediately feared for Alan Rychman.

“ Captain Rychman asked that I fetch you, Doctor.”

“ The Claw?”

“ 'Fraid so, ma'am.”

“ Can you send a car?”

“ I'm in the lobby, ma'am. I'm to take you myself.”

“ Good, good… I'm dressing… Be right down.”

She pulled herself together quickly, dressing in jeans and a pullover sweater, grabbing her cane and her medical valise. Inside a compartment in the valise was a medical smock she'd throw on at the scene.

Lou Pierce greeted her in the lobby, and it was good to see a friendly face. He instantly took her medical bag, showing her the way to the squad car. He deposited the bag on the backseat, but she asked to ride up front with him. Lou was pleased. He opened the door for her and watched her slide in gracefully, save for a brief fight with her cane.

Lou sped toward the scene, telling her that she had a long night ahead of her.

“ Anything you want to tell me, Lou, that I should know?”

He'd been thinking about the double murder and the missing gray matter from the heads of each victim, and he felt a little unnerved that she could read him so easily. “Well, yes, ma'am, some information… by way of preparation.”

She knew that words could do little to prepare a person for the kind of work she must do tonight. “Go ahead, Lou. What is it?”

“ Well, there're two bodies, same location-”

“ Two? My God.”

“ One's older, one younger; they're thinking it's a mother and daughter, but there's some question about that.”

“ How awful.”

“ And ma'am, well, this time the lunatic took their… took their… well, he took their brains, or ate them. Nobody's sure of that, but the brains are missing.”

She felt chilled, recalling the prediction she had made to Rychman. She hadn't expected the maniac to advance to this stage quite so quickly, and certainly not so dramatically, killing two women in a single night.

“ You okay, ma'am?”

“ Yes, Lou. Just get me there quickly.”

Lou felt uneasy and awkward, and he tried small talk, but it was a poor opponent for the silence that had settled in around them. “Your injury, ma'am?”

She looked up at him. “Yes?”

“ Is it temporary, or will it never heal?”

“ Doctors say it could be almost right someday.”

“ Then you can throw away your cane. That'd be nice.”

“ But only if I stay off my legs.”

“ If you don't mind my saying so. Doctor, maybe you're doing yourself a… a disservice.”

“ I don't put much store in what the doctors have told me. Besides, I'm stubborn, and I'm in a profession that doesn't allow you to be on your behind, so…” She paused. “As for the cane, it's kinda become a part of me; lends character, don't you think?” She smiled. “And it's a constant reminder to never again be naive or foolish.”

“ Tell you this much, Dr. Coran.”

“ What's that, Lou?”

“ Sure hasn't slowed Captain Rychman down; I think he likes your character, if you get my drift.”

“ I think I do.”

“ The Captain, he knows good character.”

Lou returned his attention to the road, and her thoughts drifted back to the Claw. The psycho seemed to be baiting them all, taunting an entire population, daring them to come nearer and nearer only to discover a phantom they could never actually put their hands on, much less cage. More and more, the Claw reminded her of Stainlype, but she wanted to cling to the belief that he was two separate physical beings, and not the single being that Stainlype/Sims had been.

She mentally began to psych herself up for what lay ahead, knowing she could not fully do so until she was in the midst of the carnage with her eyes and hands directly over the remains left her by the Claw.

The squad car pulled up to the police barricade, and when she got out she saw the reporters, among them Jim Drake, who gave a perfunctory wave from the sidelines. She hurried toward the door that would take her into the nice-looking little bungalow that had become a torture chamber for its inhabitants.

Rychman stepped out onto the front stoop and stopped her before she entered the house, saying, “Brace yourself, Jessica. It's the worst yet.”

“ I can handle it,” she said flatly, about to move past him.

“ I managed to secure the scene, and we were able to keep the bodies intact, where they were left. Dr. Darius is inside.”

“ Dr. Darius? I thought he was-”

“ In good shape and saucy as ever. Between the two of you, get us something we can go on.”

“ No witnesses, I assume.”

“ No one useful, and little hope in that direction. We have determined that one of the victims doesn't live here.” The younger woman?”

“ No, the old lady. The younger one lived here alone, parents are Upstate, Albany area. No one knows who the old woman is, and there's no identifying her. Missing Persons is working on a match, but so far, zip. Jess, did anyone inform you of… of the fact that-”

“ It's a little scary, about the brains, Alan, but it simply stood to reason. He treats a corpse like his personal smorgasbord. He was bound to get to the entree soon, the only major organ he had left untouched so far. I'd better get inside now.”

“ Sure… Meantime, the task force detectives are fanned out, checking every possible lead, asking questions. Seems a neighbor became curious when she saw a strange car out her back window. Made a call to the Olin woman-the young one-but got no answer. She didn't see the car's occupant enter or exit. I've got O’Toole and Mannion trying to jog her memory regarding the vehicle.”

She nodded and entered the death house, Rychman just behind her. He watched her go to where Darius was kneeling over the body of the older woman, whose head, like that of the Olin woman, was split completely open, the brains scooped clean from the cranium.

Jessica sensed that Alan was nearby, and part of her wanted him there. She had managed to keep her eye from wandering to the center of the brutality here, concentrating on the details of the crime scene first to maintain her professional bearing. She knew that Darius had already passed through this phase, because he was now on his knees with his gloved hands inside the open wounds, searching for clues to the double murder.