Allison Brennan - See No Evil

Grace Simpson, crime reporter. She knew more about the story, otherwise she wouldn’t have been assigned to it. Maybe she thought she could get someone to talk about the “issues” Michelle O’Dell had mentioned. Was Michelle the girl Jason had been accused of raping? Or perhaps she knew what had happened.

Julia wondered if journalist Grace had been trying to get more information about the underground market for steroids.

Only one person knew for sure. Julia hesitated before picking up her cell phone.

“Grace Simpson. Talk to me.”

“Grace, it’s Julia Chandler.”

A long pause. “You’re just about the last person I expected to call me. Do you have a comment about Victor Montgomery’s murder? Or maybe why you were put on administrative leave?”

How did everyone know about her leave? “No. I want to talk off the record about something other than Victor’s murder. I’ll buy you lunch.”

“It’s well past lunchtime. You’re going to have to give me more. The judge’s murder is my number one priority right now and I can’t waste my time.”

“I promise if anything comes of this, you’ll be the first to know. And it could be really big. Please.”

Julia could almost hear Grace weighing the pros and cons. “All right,” Grace finally agreed. “When and where?”

Julia named a restaurant in La Jolla, far from where any of her colleagues might spot her talking to a reporter.

Julia hung up, far from certain she’d made the right decision, but her instincts told her there was something about Jason Ridge’s death that seemed peculiar, perhaps related to the other two murders. She hoped Grace had information to share.

And she hoped it didn’t cost her.

Dillon feared he’d missed Garrett Bowen at the country club, but saw him above an empty plate, drinking a cocktail at a table overlooking the golf course.

“Dr. Bowen.” Dillon sat across from him.

“Dr. Kincaid. This must be important to track me down on a Friday afternoon. May I call you Dillon? ‘Doctor’ seems too formal among colleagues.”

Dillon nodded. “It’s about Wishlist, Doctor.” Keep it formal. He watched Bowen’s expression. Except for a tightening around his mouth, his expression didn’t change. If Dillon hadn’t been watching carefully, he’d have missed it.

“Yes?”

“Have you heard of the group?”

“Of course.”

“How?”

“I created it.”

Though Dillon knew he shouldn’t be surprised, since all the evidence pointed to Dr. Bowen’s involvement in the online community, he was nevertheless shocked at the frank admission. “Why?” he asked.

Bowen cocked his head, looking at Dillon as if he’d asked a ridiculous question. “It’s therapeutic, of course.”

“How so?”

Bowen laid his hands on the table. His right index finger lightly tapped on the linen cloth. “Anger management is a difficult discipline, as I’m sure you well know,” he began. “Especially with teenagers. Especially today. Young people mistrust their elders. They’d believe the word of a fellow teen-however ill informed-over the word of an experienced adult.”

“That’s nothing new,” Dillon said.

“True, but with the additional pressures of a complex, sensory-rich society with every fantasy, every wish, able to be fulfilled, keeping young adults focused on their own health and safety-as opposed to the take-what-you-want-when-you-want-it attitude prevalent today-is an almost impossible task for parents. Add to that dilemma the situation of rich kids with distant parents, physically or emotionally, and you have a recipe for disaster. In my practice, I deal almost exclusively with teenagers who have problems with their parents and their teachers-in essence, those in authority over them. I realized this when I started taking cases from the court with youth who vandalized property, acted out against people in a rage, anything that stemmed from anger. And these weren’t the underprivileged, but kids with means and education.”

Bowen was on a roll. “Take the issue of cutting. You know what that is, correct?”

“Of course. When people, usually young teens, mutilate their bodies in order to feel pain.”

Bowen shook his head. “Partly, but you’re focusing on the pain when in fact it’s the feeling and the control that they hold on to. That the feeling comes from pain is incidental. Cutting is about being in control. Some kids turn to drugs or drinking to dull the feelings-to give up control and responsibility. If under the influence, they become detached from themselves. Cutting is the exact opposite. In fact, in my practice, cutters often have a disdain for drug users. Cutters would rather die than give up their bodies and minds to drugs and alcohol. Cutting heightens their feelings, gives them control over their own destiny. Drugs take away control.”

“I understand, but what does cutting have to do with Wishlist?”

“Cutting is anger management. They can’t release their feelings, or they don’t know how to release them, so they turn inward. It’s empowering. Just like yelling at your parents or vandalizing the school. They get a brief high. But each time, they need to go deeper, hurt longer. If they can’t control it, they’ll self-destruct.” Bowen sipped his drink as the waiter cleared his dishes.

“So you started Wishlist for people who cut themselves?” Dillon said.

“Originally, several years ago I put together a small online group of cutters. I felt they would benefit from talking to each other. And I was right. The results one-on-one were far better after the anonymous group therapy. So I expanded Wishlist to include all teens with anger management or emotional control issues, which is really the same thing. A teen who lashes out in anger has the same basic problems as a teen who turns to promiscuity to solve problems. They don’t feel as if they are in control of their destiny.”

“There are a thousand underlying reasons for self-destructive teenagers. You can’t put them all in the same category.”

“I understand that, Dr. Kincaid,” Bowen said, irritated that he’d been contradicted. “But together they see that others have problems like theirs and they can try different methods to control their spontaneous destructive behavior and to develop sound coping mechanisms.”

“Kids counseling kids.” Dillon couldn’t hide the disdain in his voice.

“I supervise the list,” Bowen insisted. “I use the information in my practice and work with other teens experiencing the same problems. It’s the same principle as group therapy.”

“Except there’s no professional supervision.”

“It’s anonymous.”

“You’ve gone online. You’ve read the messages.” It wasn’t a question.

Bowen acknowledged the fact. “Just to observe or to provide prompts.”

“Like how they would kill those who hurt them.”

He shook his head. “You don’t understand. It’s about getting rid of the anger in a safe and anonymous environment in order to move on and heal.”

Dillon said, “So when Emily Montgomery wrote that she wanted to kill Judge Montgomery by making him choke on his penis, that’s healing?”

“I didn’t know the message came from Emily. It was anonymous.”

“But you saw the message.”

He hesitated. “Yes. But-”

“Why didn’t you go to the police?”

“It’s therapy. And there was no threat. It was a fantasy, nothing more.”

“It’s a secure server that you need a password to join and is monitored by a licensed psychiatrist who should know better than to put a group of mentally imbalanced young people into a group to talk about murder.”

“That’s not the purpose, Kincaid. You’re only looking at one message out of thousands.”