Absent Feeling, page 12
Simon knocked.
“You’ll have to wait!” a man’s voice called from inside. “I’m in the middle of a session.”
“Dr. Harvis, this is the FBI. We need to talk to you.”
There was no answer from within. Amber looked over to Simon. If Dr. Harvis was potentially their killer, was it possible that he was using this opportunity to run or to destroy evidence? Could they risk waiting?
Amber didn’t think so. Nor, it seemed, did Simon. He opened the door, leading the way into an office that looked like it was halfway to being a personal study. Bookcases stood against one wall, littered with a combination of books on psychiatry and objets d’art. Amber spotted a skull up there, along with a stuffed raven.
A large, mahogany desk sat at one end of the room, partially covered in green leather and with a computer screen set atop it. There was also an old-fashioned writing set there, presumably more for appearances than use, complete with inkpots and a large letter opener balanced on top.
Then there were the inkblots. They were everywhere in the room, framed and looking down from around the walls, designs appearing on the front of books, so that Amber seemed to be surrounded by them. Intriguingly, a couple of the designs up on the walls were not the standard ten, and Amber found herself wondering if there were others there that were more similar to the one that had been found at the crime scenes.
A woman sat in front of the desk in one of a couple of uncomfortable looking chairs. She was middle aged, blonde haired and blue eyed, wearing a white sweater and jeans. The man behind the desk was the one Amber was more interested in. He was in his early fifties, shaven headed and bespectacled, with a tall frame crammed into a much more comfortable looking chair. He was wearing a dark suit. Currently, he looked almost furious.
“I said that I’m in the middle of a session!” he snapped, rising to his feet.
Simon held up his badge. “I’m sorry, Dr. Harvis, but this is urgent.” He turned to the woman. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we need to speak to Dr. Harvis.”
The woman got up, looking worried, and hurried out of the room. Dr. Harvis looked, if anything, even more angry.
“You do not get to end one of my sessions,” he said.
Simon didn’t seem to be about to back down. “Dr. Harvis, three people have been killed in the last three days, and it’s possible the killer responsible for it will keep going at that rate until he is stopped. I’m sorry to interrupt your work, but we do not have any time to wait.”
“I do not believe that I’m stopping you from doing your jobs,” Dr. Harvis said. “I simply don’t see what any of this has to do with me, or why you need to interrupt my work.”
“Because we need to talk to you,” Amber said. “We’re told that you’re an expert on the Rorschach test.”
“The expert,” Dr. Harvis insisted.
“And Rorschach designs have been found at our murder scenes,” Simon said.
“So, you want my opinion on them?” Dr. Harvis asked.
“Yes, but we also want to know about your movements,” Simon said. “Where were you last night?”
Dr. Harvis stood there next to his desk, his anger palpable now.
“You think that I’m some kind of suspect? No, this is preposterous.”
“We’re completely serious, Dr. Harvis,” Amber said. She found herself thinking about the way the murders had happened. About a man who could be calm and in control enough to break into people’s homes and leave no trace, but who then lashed out in a frenzied attack. “The killer is obviously someone obsessed with the Rorschach test, for some reason, and one look at this room says that you meet that description.”
“Obsessed? Young lady, you have no idea what you’re talking about. And I have no intention of talking to either of you.”
Simon took a step forward then. “Dr. Harvis, if you won’t have this conversation here, then we’ll have to have it down at the Guisborough PD.”
Amber saw Dr. Harvis start to reach out for something and realized that the letter opener was there, easy for him to grab. The letter opener was long and leaf bladed, its hilt worked with intricate silver designs. Amber was more interested in how sharp the edge would be. Was this the murder weapon?
If he was grabbing for it, Amber had no time to waste. If he got a grip on it, he might be able to lash out at Simon, even kill him before he could clear his gun. At close range, a knife could be at least as dangerous as a firearm. Amber’s weeks of training kicked in then, and she threw herself forward.
“Knife!”
Amber leapt around the table, tackled Dr. Harvis, slamming into him with all the weight she had, trying to force him away from the knife he was reaching for. She bore him to the ground, grabbing his arms and trying to wrench them behind his back.
“What are you doing?” Harvis demanded. “This is assault!”
“You were reaching for a knife,” Amber said.
“I was reaching for my phone. To call my lawyer. Who is going to want to hear all about what you’ve done here!”
“He can hear about it down at the station,” Simon said, moving in and helping Dr. Harvis to his feet. “Unless you’ve suddenly decided to cooperate?”
“Do you really think that I’m going to say anything after everything that you’ve just done?” Dr. Harvis demanded.
“Then we’ll continue this conversation down at the local police station.” Simon looked over to Amber; he didn’t seem happy. “Come on, Amber, let’s get him back to the department. I just hope, for both our sakes, that he talks.”
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
“The lawyer’s here,” Detective Heart said, approaching. “How do the two of you want to do this?”
It took Amber a moment or two to realize what he wanted. He was trying to get in to be a part of the interrogation, presumably trying to cement his part in catching the killer. For a detective in a town like this, catching a serial killer might be the biggest break he could get in his career.
Amber could only wait in frustration from outside the interrogation room that currently held Dr. Harvis. The doctor sat within, looking stony faced, and had flatly refused to answer any questions until his lawyer got there. Simon was standing across the corridor from her with his back to the one-way glass that let Amber see into the interrogation room. He’d barely said anything to her since they’d gotten back to the precinct.
Amber saw the lawyer approaching. He was younger than Dr. Harvis, probably in his thirties, with dark hair and a checked blue suit with gold cufflinks. He walked up and held out a hand to Simon, then Detective Heart, then Amber. He looked her in the eye as he shook her hand, and there was an expression almost of amusement there, almost as if he were looking forward to this.
“I’m Gerald Webber, Dr. Harvis’s lawyer. I’ll need a moment to consult with my client and then, from what I hear about what happened, we’ll get around to all the different ways I’ll be suing you for how you’ve treated him.”
“We just want to ask your client some questions,” Simon said. “Advise him to cooperate, and if he’s not the man we’re looking for, he’ll be free to go.”
“He’ll be free to go anyway, soon enough,” the lawyer said. There was an arrogance there that Amber didn’t like.
He went into the interrogation room to confer with his client, leaving Amber, Simon, and Detective Heart waiting outside.
“Is he really going to sue, do you think?” Amber asked.
“It’s hard to tell,” Simon said. “Probably not. But this isn’t how I imagined our conversation with Dr. Harvis going.”
His phone started to ring then, and he stepped a pace or two away while he took it. Amber could still hear his side of the conversation, though. It seemed to be Agent Palliser calling him, demanding an update on the case.
“Did you really tackle the doctor?” Detective Heart asked. He looked faintly impressed.
“I thought he was going for a weapon.” Amber knew that she needed to make that clear. She hadn’t just jumped on him because he was refusing to cooperate. That letter opener had looked more than dangerous enough to kill someone with.
“And the two of you went to speak with him because …”
“Because he’s clearly obsessed with the Rorschach test. This is a guy who has tried to introduce new designs to it. Is it so hard to imagine that the one we found at the scenes might be another of his?” Amber could even think of a possible motive for the murders now. “Maybe the people who died are those he feels are responsible for holding him back in his attempts to get a new design out there or something. Maybe he figures that leaving it at the crime scenes will eventually get it out there into the public consciousness.”
“That’s an … interesting theory,” Detective Heart said. He didn’t sound as though he believed it was likely to be true, though.
“We’re dealing with someone who is obviously mad in some way, or why murder like this?” Amber pointed out. “The motive only has to make sense to the killer.”
“Ok, I can buy that maybe he was obsessed with the Rorschach patterns, but I still want to see something linking him physically to the crimes.”
“If he hadn’t caused such a scene at the Wellness Institute, then maybe we would have had a chance to look,” Amber suggested. Maybe that had even been the point. Maybe the doctor had gambled that he could distract the FBI agents visiting him and get them to ignore whatever evidence he had in his office by making them focus on him instead. Amber wondered if she and Simon should go back to search Dr. Harvis’s office.
Simon came back to them then. He didn’t look happy.
“That was Palliser,” he said. “She wanted to know what progress we were making, and I had to tell her about bringing in Dr. Harvis. I didn’t tell her everything that happened, but she’s still not happy. She wants results.”
“So, we go in there and get answers,” Amber suggested. Even as she said it, she saw the lawyer waving them in.
“Not you, Amber,” Simon said.
That made Amber stop and stare at him. “What do you mean, not me?”
“You saw that lawyer,” Simon said. “He’s the kind who’ll make a big deal about you still being a consultant. And … well, you were pretty impulsive back there. I don’t think I can afford to have you in the room on this.”
“But I might be able to help,” Amber insisted.
Simon shook his head, though. “I’ll take this one with Detective Heart. If you want to be useful, run as much background as you can on Dr. Harvis. Try to find something incriminating, some reason why he would want to kill these three people.”
Amber wanted to say no, wanted to insist that she should be a part of this, but she knew that she didn’t have some automatic right to be in the interrogation, and she could remember the things Simon had said earlier about her needing to do whatever was necessary for the investigation, not just what she wanted.
That raised concerns for her, more questions to worry about when it came to whether she should become an FBI agent. Could she work like this, taking orders, doing this someone else’s way? She thought of Simon as a friend. Could she handle him as something closer to a boss?
Amber had to force herself to nod. “I’ll do what I can.”
“You’ll still be able to listen to the interrogation,” Detective Heart said.
Simon shook his head again, though. “I need Amber back at our desk, researching. If you find anything, message it through to me, Amber.”
Again, Amber made herself nod. She was there to help, so she would help as much as she could.
While Simon and the detective went through into the interrogation room, Amber went back out into the main office of the Guisborough PD. She headed back to the desk that she was working from, using a terminal there to start to pull up more information about Dr. Harvis. She guessed that Simon wouldn’t want all of this, so the question was how to reduce it to something manageable, finding the parts that might actually help to get answers out of the doctor.
It was frustrating being there at the desk, rather than in the interrogation room. It felt as though Amber was being punished for following her training, moving to stop a man from lashing out. Ok, so he said that he was reaching for his phone, but Amber had no way of being certain of that at the time, did she?
Did she, or had she just been so on edge trying to prove herself that she’d acted without really thinking? Amber didn’t know, but the result was that she had to be here, rather than in the place where she could help the most.
No, Amber was determined to find a way to help here. She started to look for Dr. Harvis’s work and started to skim through it, trying to find answers. She found her eye drawn by his suggestions for new inkblots to add to the existing set. His argument seemed to be that adding them would allow the Rorschach test to have greater diagnostic power in a wider range of conditions. Copying the images, Amber sent them through to Simon.
Ask him about the design we found at the scene, she messaged to him.
Amber kept looking online, looking for images of the doctor. It wasn’t hard to find pictures of him with all of the victims so far. Even Constance Banks, standing beside her husband and Dr. Harvis. She sent those to Simon as well, wondering if it would do any good. Judging by the way he had been back in his office, Amber doubted that Dr Harvis had any intention of answering any of their questions.
It was frustrating, and not just because Amber couldn’t find out what was going on without heading back to the interrogation room against Simon’s instructions. No, not instructions, orders. Again, he’d treated her like she was a subordinate who had to be told what to do in every situation, not like someone he truly trusted to work alongside him.
Amber got up, frustrated. She needed some air. This time, she didn’t even care if the reporters spotted her outside. She needed to think. Walking out of the office, Amber headed through the police department’s reception area and then out into the open air. There were fewer reporters there than there had been, but they still called out questions as Amber passed.
“Ms. Young, have you made any progress on the case?”
“You have a suspect in custody. Does that mean that you’ve found the murderer?”
“When will you be joining the FBI full-time as an agent?”
Amber kept walking, even though the last question made her want to stop. The truth was that she didn’t know the answer to it. She still didn’t know if she wanted to accept Agent Palliser’s offer. If anything, she was further away from accepting that ever. What kind of partnership would it be between her and Simon if he pulled rank on her every time they disagreed, and he didn’t allow Amber to pursue the things that she felt certain were relevant?
Maybe there was a reason why Amber hadn’t said yes to Palliser straight away. Maybe a part of her had been worried that this wouldn’t work out. Maybe she’d known that, as much as she liked solving puzzles, she wasn’t really cut out for the structure and hierarchy of the FBI?
Amber didn’t know, and for the moment at least, she didn’t want to think about it. She wanted to find a way that she could genuinely help with this case. The only question was how.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
He couldn’t strike until tonight, so he was following Dr. Eamon Sutton around Guisborough. Imagine learning that the man he planned to kill had the day off. Imagine seeing him leave his tastefully appointed, slightly too expensive home and head, not for the so called “Wellness Institute”, but for the middle of town.
He’d followed, of course, because he wasn’t about to let this deviation from routine go unwatched. What if the doctor had worked out what all of this was about? What if Dr. Sutton had realized that he would be the culmination of days of work and was even now trying to find a way to flee?
That couldn’t be allowed, which was why it was important to follow him, keeping a couple of car lengths back, trying not to be obtrusive. If Dr. Sutton left town, then, out of the city where there was no one around, it would be easy to stop him and kill him. If the doctor went to the train or bus station, then he would die there. He wasn’t going to get away with the things that he’d done.
That they’d all done. Each of them had played their role, even down to Constance Banks. Now that he’d thought more about it, he was sure that, without her standing behind her husband, whispering to him, that he would have been released, not locked away like some kind of animal.
Dr. Sutton’s crimes were some of the worst. The others had helped to put him in that place or had made conditions worse for him, but it was as if Dr. Sutton had actively been conducting a campaign against him. The man had lied over and over to keep him in that place. He had withheld food from patients as a punishment and put them on drugs they didn’t need to be on. He had gone out of his way to inflict suffering as a doctor over years …
He saw Dr. Sutton pull up, and he found a spot to park a little further along, getting out and following the man on foot. He had a knife in his pocket, and he always had one of the designs on him, so for a brief moment, he considered simply walking up and stabbing the man repeatedly, shouting Dr. Sutton’s crimes to the world.
It was tempting, but he knew better than to give in to that kind of temptation. He wasn’t someone who simply gave in to his impulses; he was a man who considered situations carefully, one who judged what was required and acted accordingly. When he killed, it was because he had decided that someone should die, and that they should do so in a particular time and place.
Doing it here would only mean that he was put back in that place. It would mean no one was listening, no one was looking at what these people had done. Whereas, if he did this the way that he’d planned, then he would be able to simply disappear. No one would know that it was him, and the time people spent looking into the murders would slowly reveal the full story of what had happened. People would see that he was doing the right thing. He would be a hero for this.
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