The Killing Code (5 page)

“
Don’t worry friend.” Alan calmed him, pulling his badge from his belt to provide the startled man some relief. “I’m here on official police business. In fact, I’d appreciate your fax number so my lieutenant can send me some paperwork, if you wouldn’t mind.”

The man’s face relaxed into a
slightly less maniacally comical look as he leaned forward to examine Alan’s badge. “Oh, OK then officer detective, sir.” He fumbled, relieved but gently rubbing his chest over his heart.

The man gave Alan the hotel’s fax number,
his room key, and breakfast order form, still wide eyed and rubbing his chest. “Goodnight officer detective, sir.”

“
Just plain ‘detective’ is fine.” Alan said smiling.

Alan went to his room and found a pizza delivery menu on the bedside table
, picked up the phone to order and watched television to fill in some time. After eating he pulled his notebook out and fingered through the pages. His meeting was at ten o’clock but he decided to arrive a little early to give himself the chance to survey the building and security. Alan pondered what it would be like to have a conversation with this brutal murderer in the flesh and thought about the questions he would ask. Eventually, sleep came.

Chapter
4

Alan woke fresh and had breakfast. Having a bit of time to kill, he decided to take advantage and take a walk. He kept a brisk pace for half an hour, trying to fulfill his promise to himself to exercise more regularly. When the time came, he checked out of the motel, got in his car and drove away from town to his appointment.

Approaching the building, he
pulled the car over on the side of the road and examined the institution’s security measures through binoculars. There was an elaborate system of three different chain link fences standing over twelve feet high. All three had rolls of razor wire at their bottom and top, with the middle fence also bearing signs to warn of electrification and there were manned guard towers surrounding the expansive, four storied structure, sufficient to observe and prevent any attempt to escape. The wire mesh windows looked as though they had been recently updated with the latest locking mechanisms and were encased in steel bars. It seemed quite obvious to Alan from what he saw, that no one was getting out of this place without permission – and his evaluation didn’t take into account any internal security measures they may have utilized.

Satisfied
that Bryan Adler would not have been able to escape and return unnoticed without inside help or a very clever plan, Alan proceeded to the visitors’ car park and on to the outer security check point. He pulled his badge from his belt to show the guard and surrendered his weapon then moved on to the secondary check point. The guard there checked for his name on the appointment roster and asked for any metal objects to be placed in a lockable tray. Alan held up his badge.

“
This is metal but you can’t have it.”

“
Understood Detective Beach but I will need to see it again when you leave to ensure you still have it with you.” he said as he extended his hand toward Alan. “In the meantime, I’ll need to have a closer look please.”

“
Wow, you guys really take this seriously!”

“
This facility has successfully contained the country’s most devious, depraved, and violent criminally insane inmates for over thirty years detective. No one wants that to change on their watch.”

“
I understand officer, thank you.” Alan said, retrieving his detective’s shield then he passed through the heavy rotating bars of the checkpoint.

His eyes moved searchingly over the front of the building as he walked the distance to the main doors
finding nothing but the highest possible security standards. At the front door, there were four guards armed with automatic rifles. Two were positioned outside the doors and two inside. The exterior guards didn’t ask for ID or even acknowledge Alan. Their purpose was purely to scan the grounds between the front door and the security check points. As Alan approached the doors, an interior guard swiped a card across a sensor and the heavy bullet-proof glass glided apart allowing entry. The guard motioned toward the step-through metal detection unit and Alan complied. The machine made a loud beep and one of the guards held a detection wand up. Alan pulled his shield out and handed it to the man but he continued his sweep anyway. Satisfied, the guard returned Alan’s badge and instructed him to proceed to the waiting room outside the administration office. A couple of minutes later, a voice came from the door.

“
Detective Beach, I’m David Tinsley, Head of Psychiatry at Sherbourne Institute for the Criminally Insane. Please follow me to my office.”

The man was in his fifties, tall and sturdy with a goatee and glasses.
He extended his hand to shake Alan’s and with the formalities complete, they proceeded to Tinsley’s office. The room reminded Alan of a dean’s office in an old Ivy League school. It felt old and formal but richly historical with its timber walls and book cases, buttoned leather chairs with matching sofa and huge oak desk and chairs. The Chief Consultant Psychiatrist motioned to the sofa in the sitting area and sat himself down in one of the leather chairs. As Alan sat, he noticed a large file on the coffee table in front of the doctor.

“
Would you like coffee or tea detective?”

“
I’m fine thank you but please call me Alan.”

“
Alan it is then – indeed, let’s dispense with formalities. You may call me David. I have Mr. Adler’s complete file here but perhaps you would prefer to discuss the patient rather than wade through all these medical notes and terminology?”

“
You read my mind David. I’m afraid they didn’t teach, ‘Medical’ where I went to school.”

“
And where might that have been Alan? Your accent is faintly New England but I can’t be sure.”

“
Well picked. I’m from Boston but I’ve managed to avoid the typical accent of the area.”

“
Ah yes, the wonderful city of Boston. I attended Harvard and have fond memories of my time there. But you’ve come from Columbus I believe?”

“
That’s right. I moved there a few years ago. It’s a long story and not worth telling.”

“
Oh but all stories are worth telling Alan.” Tinsley spoke with long held wisdom. “Still, for the sake of time, let’s get to Mr. Adler shall we? How does he relate to your case?”

“
I can’t really discuss details of the case but there has been a suspicious death and Adler’s name came up in the investigation. The victim was in your profession; Dr. Helen Benson.”

David Tinsley’s face sank.
“Helen Benson the Neuro-Psychiatrist?”

“
That’s right, did you know her?”

“
Everyone in this profession knows of Helen Benson. An extremely gifted woman and considered the leader in her field by many, including myself. This is a great and terrible loss! How did she die?” Tinsley’s brow was tensed in a deep furrow and his eyes welled slightly.

“
That’s what I’m trying to find out. It appears as a suicide but there are suspicious circumstances which I can’t go into at this point.”

“
Suicide - that’s impossible detective!” he railed. “Dr. Benson would never have done such a thing to herself. Besides, she had two young daughters, a happy marriage and an incredibly bright future. How could anyone think such a thing?”

“
I understand Doctor but she was found by her husband in their home with a massive, apparently self-inflicted wound to her forearm which caused exsanguination.”

“
My God… I can’t believe this! I’ve had dinner in that very home with Helen, Jim and other friends and colleagues. When did this happen?”

“
Last night - about eight fifteen.”

“
I don’t understand. She was keynote speaker at the National Psychiatric Medicines Convention in Washington. She should have been there until today. I would be there myself but I sent some of our junior faculty for the experience.”

“
Her husband said she had already performed her formal duties in the first two days of the conference and missed her family so she asked a colleague to cover her remaining minor responsibilities and returned home last night.”

“
That poor man, he must be completely distraught!”

Alan winced slightly
; recalling Jim’s pain and how closely it mimicked his own.

“
I apologize for my incredulity. This is very difficult to accept. Did you say she cut her own forearm?”

Alan composed himself,
“That’s right - does that mean something to you?”

“
Yes - and it will certainly mean something to Bryan Adler!”

Tinsley went on to describe Adler’s predilections
and details of his long and brutal life as a serial killer. He explained how Helen had done a period of consultation and pharmacological research at Sherbourne, during which she had regular ongoing sessions with Adler for many months. He then used Helen’s exhaustive notes and transcripts to detail the psychopath’s history and pathology for Alan.

Bryan
was born in the latter months of 1972 outside a rural Arkansas community to Curtis and Ruth Adler. It was a home birth and since his mother never ventured into town, no one outside the Adlers had ever known she was pregnant so there was no record of his birth. He was one of those statistics that just fell through the cracks of bureaucracy due to the sheer social and geographical isolation his parents had created. The Adlers had a small farm miles from the nearest town and his parents would allow no outside interaction so his upbringing had been extremely solitary, with only his parents and a few farm animals for company. He was never allowed to attend school; in fact, Bryan didn’t even know what school was until later when he entered into foster care.

Curtis Adler was an extremely paranoid man and strict disciplinarian who hated any kind of interaction with anyone outside his direct family.
They were self sufficiency farmers and the only time he went to town was to get seeds for their vegetable gardens, glass jars for pickling, heating oil, tools, and a few other items that they couldn’t do without and couldn’t make for themselves. It was a harsh way of life but the couple wanted it that way and Bryan was an unwelcome arrival. They believed that the world would end very soon and that they, by living the way they did and following the bible virtually to the letter, would be the only people saved from the wrath of God. In fact, they saw themselves as a kind of renaissance Adam and Eve in their own twisted minds.

Ruth was the illegitimate result of two first cousins in Tennessee, who were unable to control their lust and some reports had it that she had always been a bit ‘touched’; even as a child.
She was a social embarrassment to the cousins’ families so they had sent her to be raised by her maternal grandparents in neighboring Arkansas. She was brought up in a very religious and strict household, where corporal punishment was the norm. By the time she was fifteen years old Ruth had met twenty year old Curtis at a church picnic and was smitten by his physical power and clear vision of what he believed righteous. Shortly after her sixteenth birthday, they were married in a small church ceremony with only one paid witness since her grandparents had both died mysteriously in their sleep a few weeks earlier and Curtis’ parents had both died years before.

Curtis and Ruth took over her grandparents’ property and set about converting it from a commercial crop growing operation to a self sufficiency farm to minimize their interaction with the outside world.
They lived their harsh lifestyle far from the prying eyes of neighbors or townsfolk and about five years into their union, Ruth became pregnant with Bryan, which filled them both with dread at how God may judge them.

After Bryan was born, Curtis decided that Bryan must have been sent to them as a test by God so he quickly won Ruth over to his way of thinking and they raised him according to the strictest
interpretation of biblical stories and proverbs. The overriding rule was: ‘Spare the rod, spoil the child’ and they enforced this rule and others with a sadistic savagery unimaginable to Helen Benson.

Of course there were no witnesses to Bryan’s claims about these times, other than the hundreds of scars, which had been dated by medical experts as having been inflicted all throughout his childhood from a very early age.
The knowledge that his parents had been so physically and mentally cruel to their son had filled Helen with anger toward Curtis and Ruth, and pity toward her patient. But as she progressed through his file to Bryan’s psychotic deeds and the coldness with which he had recounted them to prosecutors when he was finally arrested; her ability to think rationally and clinically about her patient was challenged. Her clinical training and experience demanded that she act as a professional physician and treat him as psychiatric patient that needed her help but his lucidity, clarity of thought, and utter remorselessness toward his victims triggered her instincts and basic nature as a human being, causing her constant internal conflict when dealing with him. As a true professional and one of the leaders in her field, she kept her emotions fully in check during their sessions but she had an ominous feeling that he always knew her inner thoughts.

Bryan was a highly intelligent subject who, despite his complete lack of education until he was about fourteen years of age, was extremely devious, calculating, and meticulous in his every action.
It was as though he could transcend normal thought and his pain threshold as well as his physical strength and capabilities far exceeded that of a normal man of his size and weight. His eyes were almost imperceptibly exotropic, which meant that they pointed slightly outward from each other so one could never be certain which eye to focus on when making eye contact or during a conversation. This was not only disconcerting but rather intimidating in his particular case. He had the condition from birth as far as anyone could tell and told of a designated weekly beating his father would give him on Saturdays because he saw the defect as a sign of the devil and another part of God’s test.

When Bryan neared the fourteenth anniversary of his birth, he finally snapped during one particular unearned beating from Curtis.
Bent over the workbench in the shed just off the house, the searing pain of his father’s belt buckle burning into his back, he saw an old fencing hammer in front of his hand and instinct took over. He grabbed the hammer, turned violently and with strength born from years of built up anger and hatred, he struck out and landed a powerful blow to his father’s head. Curtis reeled back severely dazed, lost his footing and fell to his knees while Bryan, his wiry frame strengthened from years of hard physical labor, his mind steeled by years of abuse, dropped the hammer to unleash an indescribable fury of violent, powerful punches on his father. He kept beating Curtis’ unconscious head until his energy began to wane then he kneeled up and watched the foamy red blood gurgling from his father’s mouth and nose. He stood, grabbed a rusty, old cut-throat razor from the bench and without hesitation, slit his father’s throat, causing the carotid arteries to spew forth pulsing rivers of blood until the gurgling stopped and he knew that Curtis Adler was no more.