Greg Iles - Blood Memory

A hard knocking reverberates through the house. We both whirl toward the garage door as though expecting it to burst open, but nothing happens.

Sean looks at me in a dazed panic.

I shrug in resignation. “I guess you’d better let the man in.”

Special Agent John Kaiser is taller than Sean, and he fills the space in my kitchen in a different way. He seems denser somehow. And though clearly more reserved than Sean, he seems capable of sudden action if that becomes necessary. The friendly face from the LeGendre crime scene is gone, replaced by a piercing gaze that misses nothing.

“Dr. Ferry,” he says, nodding curtly.

“Is this some kind of joke?” I ask. “Something you guys cooked up to scare Sean and me?”

“No joke. Nathan Malik has requested a personal interview with you.” Kaiser’s eyes tell me he’s not lying. “Do you have any idea why he might do that?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Did you tell me everything you remember about the period that you knew him when you were in med school in Jackson?”

“Absolutely.”

Kaiser glances at Sean, then back at me. “Would you remember everything from that time?”

“What do you mean?”

“You told me that you drank quite a bit in those days.”

The FBI man’s attempt at tact does not lessen my sense of violation. I look at Sean, but he’s staring blindly forward, his jaw set tight. “What the hell are you saying? What’s going on here?”

Kaiser’s eyes don’t waver. “You know what I’m saying.”

I take a step back, trying to tap my reserves of self-restraint. “Do I remember everything that happened at those dinner parties? Every word and gesture? Of course not. But everything big, I remember.”

“You never blacked out in Nathan Malik’s presence?”

“ Hell no. Did he say I did?”

“Dr. Malik hasn’t said anything, Dr. Ferry. I’m just trying to learn as much as I can.”

“I never blacked out in his presence.”

“Do you always remember when you black out?”

“How do you know I black out at all?” I ask, glaring at Sean. “Look, I met Malik under another name over ten years ago. He hit on me a couple of times. I rejected him. That’s it.”

Kaiser looks honestly perplexed. “Then why does he want to talk to you now? It seems a strange time for him to choose to renew a casual acquaintance, don’t you think?”

“Ask him that!”

“He doesn’t want to talk to us. He wants to talk to you.”

Suddenly I know why Kaiser has come. “You want me to talk to him, don’t you? To Malik.”

The FBI man’s face betrays nothing. “Do you want to talk to him?”

“I’m not answering that.”

“Why not?”

I shake my head angrily. “Don’t play games with me, Agent Kaiser. There’s no right answer here. If I say I want to talk to Malik, you suspect I was involved with him. If I say I don’t, you ask ‘Why not?’ like I’m hiding something. Do you want me to talk to the guy or not?”

Kaiser holds up his hands in apology. “I’m coming off like a jerk here. I’m sorry. Why don’t we sit down for a minute?” He gestures at the kitchen table.

When I remain standing, he takes a chair and waits. I look at Sean, who shrugs and sits to Kaiser’s right. After a moment, I sit opposite the FBI man.

“I know this situation is difficult,” Kaiser says. “But it’s nothing compared to what’s about to come down on you outside that door. We’ve had two murders in three days. The media’s in a frenzy. If they find out Malik asked to talk to you, that’s bad enough. If they find out about”-Kaiser indicates Sean and me with a nod of his head-“you can pretty much kiss your careers good-bye.”

“Why is that?” Sean asks, sounding defensive. “So we’re having an affair. That doesn’t have anything to do with our work.”

Kaiser looks down at my table, which is covered with crime-scene photos and copies of police reports.

“Shit,” mutters Sean. I can tell from his face that he can’t quite believe this is happening. He’s thinking of his wife and kids. His retirement. I feel more alone and isolated than I did last night.

“I’m more sympathetic to you guys’ situation than you might think,” Kaiser says. “I met the woman I’m with now during a high-profile murder case. I wasn’t married at the time, but I have some insight into that problem, too. Okay? But right now, the thing for us to do is focus on this case. If we solve this case, a lot of shit gets resolved with it.”

“How did you know about us?” Sean asks. “How did you know I was here?”

Kaiser throws him a look that says, Give me some credit, then turns to me. “You’re right, Dr. Ferry. If you’re amenable, I’d like you to talk to Malik. The judge is almost certainly going to order Malik’s arrest today for contempt of court. He’s flat-out refused to give up the names of any of his patients or their records. I’d prefer not to arrest him yet, but there’s tremendous political pressure to force some kind of break in this case. We’re already in an adversarial relationship with Malik. Before we jail him and make a bad situation worse, I’d like to learn everything we can from him. Because he’s asked to speak to you, we have a unique opportunity to do that.”

“But…?”

“A meeting like that is risky, and in more than one way. Before we go ahead with it, I need to speak very frankly to you. No room for hurt feelings.”

John Kaiser is only three or four years older than Sean, but he appears to possess a depth and honesty that make Sean seem a boy beside him. A weariness that has nothing to do with the simple passing of years. Yet Sean is no boy. He’s a veteran homicide detective who’s witnessed much human misery. What did this FBI man experience that aged him this way?

“I understand,” I say, oddly excited by the prospect of speaking to Nathan Malik in person. “Ask away.”

“Your father served in Vietnam, correct?”

“Yes.”

“One tour? During 1969 and 1970?”

“Yes.”

“He was later murdered in 1981?”

I resist the urge to shift in discomfort. “That’s right. I was eight.”

“I tried to get a copy of your father’s autopsy record, but the State of Mississippi appears to have lost the original. Was there any aspect of your father’s murder that could possibly relate to the murders happening here over the past month?”

“You mean bite marks? Like that?”

“Any similarity at all.”

“Nothing. Are you suggesting that my father knew Nathan Malik in Vietnam?”

“It’s possible. Maybe even before Vietnam. Nathan Malik and your father were both born in 1951, both in Mississippi. Different towns, it’s true-separated by two hundred miles-but their paths might have crossed before Vietnam or after they were in-country.”

Sean looks impatient. “What do their army records say? Was it possible?”

“If only it were that simple,” says Kaiser. “I’ve seen Malik’s file, but Luke Ferry’s military record is sealed by the Department of Defense until 2015.”

I feel a sudden dislocation from the world around me. “I can’t believe that.”

“What the hell are we dealing with here, John?” Sean asks.

“No way to know yet.” Kaiser looks unhappy. “But it’s safe to say this case is a lot more complicated than I first imagined it was.” He turns to me. “I know it’s upsetting to have your personal life pried open, Doctor. But if you can-”

“Ask what you need to,” I tell him. “I know there’s worse coming.”

Kaiser looks as if he’d prefer not to venture down the path he’s about to take. “After you and I spoke yesterday, I called Dr. Christopher Omartian. To find out what he remembered about Malik.”