The Monolith Murders (23 page)

“Okay, use cash and not your credit card for all your purchases. She can’t trace cash. Also, rent a car for a month or so. Give me the location of your motel, and I’ll contact the San Diego cops to have Atwell’s car picked up. I’ll also make sure you won’t be charged with auto theft.
 

“Maureen, something is bothering me and I never had a chance to ask you about it. What was the disturbed logic behind Donna’s condemnation of the Rorschach test when she confronted us in our kitchen? Why would she even have been exposed to the test?”

“Fred, I don’t really know except that defense attorneys sometimes employ the tests to prove that their client is not mentally fit, prosecutors seek the opposite conclusion when they use them. I don’t use it, I just don’t believe it has that much reliability. But it appears that she was given that test repeatedly, perhaps while in prison and maybe even by her defense attorney. Her responses to the tests, I would guess, remained constant and that constancy was troublesome to her.”

“I understand, but what was her diatribe about ink spots solely being ink spots? I’ve always heard that the Rorschach test has an enormous amount of ambiguity associated with it.”

“Well, actually, even though I don’t have much faith in the test, they are still used in courtrooms all over the country, especially in the area of child custody and involuntary commitment cases.
 

“But ambiguity is actually the element in the test that allegedly makes it valuable. Subjects are supposed to project from their inner self what they perceive from the ink blots. If one sees a bat eating a human, for example, that would indicate an abnormal personality. It gets much more complicated than that, but you get the idea. However, I’m assuming that Donna was tested several times using that test, and that contributed to her frustration. And from what she said, in each case she had never perceived anything in the drawings other than ink blots. She seemed to be highly defensive about that.”

“What does it all mean?”

“As far as her reaction and her defensive manner, I would guess the tests indicated she has a trait that she doesn’t like. But it’s integral to her personality; she’s encased in it for a lifetime.”
 

“You mean people’s personalities don’t change over time?”

“Not normally, what you may see is a new persona emerging. Think about O.J.; he had a persona that made him highly likable; but hidden beneath was a dark revengeful core. I suspect he probably tore the wings off flies when he was a kid.”
 

“Again, what about Donna’s response to the Rorschach?”

“Fred, I rarely have heard of that type of rigid a response from an adult. Virtually everyone sees something more abstract than the ink blot itself. Not being able to discern anything means she is super literal. Often perfectionists are highly literal, many children are also literal; but as their exposure to the world expands, their literal bindings become loosened. It appears that never happened to Donna; in that respect she is still very childlike and highly inflexible. I don’t think it helps us understand Donna as an abnormal personality, but maybe it could in some way help you capture her, because her trait appears to govern part of her personality. I’m sorry, hon, but that exhausts my memory bank on the Rorschach test. I’m sorry that I couldn’t help more.
 

“To change subjects, Fred, I bought a CD with songs from the 60’s today along with a battery powered CD player.”

“Yes?”

“The lyrics of one of those songs contain words such as
when the night has come, and the land is dark, and the moon is the only light I can see
. It continues,
no, I won’t
be afraid
. Fred, I concentrate on the line that I won’t be afraid. Of course, I changed the lyrics in my mind somewhat as I played it. I played the CD during my drive up here; and I played it again several times in my motel waiting for your return call. Somehow those lyrics fit my situation so well; they imbue me with the strength to go on for another day.”

“All right babe, keep playing it if it gives you comfort, and soon I will see you again. Before we cut off I want to ask you—how well do you really know Sue Granton?”

“Fred, if I didn’t know you so well and recognize that you are at all times a detective seeking clues, I wouldn’t believe you are now becoming suspicious of my best friend. Don’t do that, Fred, I need Sue and I trust her without reservation. I understand people a hell of a lot better than you do.”

“I know, but—”

“—No buts, Fred; that ends our discussion relative to Sue unless you have something positive to say.”

“Okay,” Fred laughed. “I love you.”

“Ditto, Fred.”

As she pushed the end button on her cell phone, Maureen looked out her hotel window. The endless night had passed; dawn was lifting in the distant mountain peaks of Mount Rainier, casting a pale orange light on its snow covered caps. Although she had not slept for over 24 hours, she realized that it was almost time for her to get on the road again. God, how she longed to be back in Fred’s arms. But soon she would be traveling due east, seeking sanction in another far place where she hoped that Donna couldn’t touch her.

At that moment her phone rang. As Maureen picked up the phone, she thought Fred must have forgotten to tell her something.

“Hello, Fred, my darling,” she cooed.

It was a woman’s voice on the other end. “I’m neither Fred nor your darling. I’ve finally located you, Maureen.”

Chapter 37

A bright flashlight was shining directly in Anderson’s eyes.
 

“What in God’s name happened to you?”

He was too blinded to distinguish the features of the figure standing above him but it was a male voice—certainly not Donna’s, but not that of Polish, either.
 

“I was kidnapped,” Anderson managed to croak out.

“You’re damn lucky I came by. I was hunting coons and I thought I saw you, but then you disappeared behind a tree. For a moment I thought you were a piece of my imagination.”

A disheveled Anderson replied, “I thought you were my kidnappers; I was trying to get away from your flashlight beam.”

The man carefully studied the chains binding Anderson. “You’re too damn big to carry and you certainly don’t look like you can walk with that getup on you. So I’ll get my four-wheeler and come right back for you. It won’t take me more than ten minutes. My house is less than a couple of miles from here. Here, put my jacket around you, you must be freezing.”

“Oh, God, thank you—and please, please hurry.”

The man returned as promised. He determined that the only way he could transport this large man was in the bed of his truck. He apologized profusely as he lifted Anderson over the lowered tailgate and gently deposited him on the truck’s bed. He recovered his jacket, and wrapped a thick blanket around Anderson.
 

A short time after receiving a call from the good Samaritan, Fred arrived with several other officers. Seeing Anderson’s condition, Fred suggested that they deliver him directly to Sarasota Memorial for treatment.

Anderson wanted none of it. “No! I’m going to stay right here! I’m trying to warm up in this blanket. I need to warm up slowly, or in my present state I could die.”

Fred called Jim, who was still at the station, and reported that they had the kidnapped doctor.
 

“Thank God, Fred. Any sign of Donna Lang?”

“No, not so far; but we’ll try to get as much information from Dr. Anderson as we can. Anderson is alive, very cold but communicative; emotionally he doesn’t seem to be doing too well.”

“Thanks Fred, let me know what happens.”

Jim said to himself, now that we have the doctor in custody I can release the police watch that we had guarding AU in case Donna was going to go back there to have the doctor operate on her in the medical unit. Actually, he thought, I could have released the detail earlier when Fred told me he was quite sure that Donna had regained her ESP capabilities, but we both wanted to be sure. I’m short of officers already, and having them maintain 24 hour vigilance at AU is taking critical resources away from me. It didn’t help that we needed police protection for Fred’s wife either, he thought. But now that she’s somewhere out west, I fortunately have also been able to cancel that detail as well and free up more resources.

* * *

Anderson was insisting that he wanted to be protected night and day. A large part of his constant shivering was the end product of his fear, and not of his exposure to the cold.

One of the officers emphasized that Anderson would be fine if he was treated at the hospital. “You really need immediate medical care,” he told him.

Fred interrupted, “No, Anderson’s correct, we need to give him full protection. You just don’t know the type of adversary he’s facing—that we’re all facing.”

Anderson was in tears, “Oh, thank you, thank you.”
 

Fred could see that, after weeks of striving to hold onto his sanity, Anderson was now starting to lose it.
 

A locksmith was called to the house, and in a few minutes Anderson was freed from all of his bonds. He was taken to the Sarasota police station and provided access to the station shower; then he was given county underwear and a green prison jumpsuit until they could retrieve civilian clothes for him.
 

Anderson continued to beg for full protection. At his request they agreed to put him in a cell in the prison complex that adjoined the station. When they started to put him in a cell on the first floor, he cried out, “No! She’ll get me here! It has to be high up where she can’t reach me. Please, don’t let her get to me!”

Fred was standing next to one of the jail guards, “He’s crazy,” the guard said. “It doesn’t matter if he’s on the bottom or the top floor, he’s safe here.”
 

Fred said, “Hey! Just give him whatever the hell he wants.”

Anderson was taken to the top floor. The windows in his cell were just adequate to allow light to enter and for someone to look out of. They were no larger than slits, built to be escape proof—not even a three year old could wiggle out of them.
 

Anderson said, “No, no, you have to cover the window! That’s how she’ll get in.”
 

The jailer started to say, “This has gone on too long—”

Fred interrupted, “—Goddamn it, give him what he wants! His wife has been murdered and he’s been held captive for weeks. Now give him anything in hell he wants!”

The irritated jailer left and came back with a half inch thick piece of a four-by-four plywood sheet. He fashioned it in a makeshift way to attach it to the cell window shutting out all exterior light.

By now Anderson was totally uncommunicative; he was sitting in the cell’s corner with his arms wrapped around himself, rocking back and forth. His fear seemed to be intensifying.

Fred had had hoped to interrogate Anderson, but it was obvious it would do no good in his present state.
 

Fred requested that the head of the county prison get the county psychologist over so she could try her hand in trying to get Anderson to open up. He wished Maureen were here—she would know what to do, Fred thought.

Fred’s subordinate officers had interrogated the good Samaritan who found Anderson hiding in the moonless night. The man said, “Well, he sure couldn’t have gotten far from where he escaped, the way he was tied up; it’s surprising that he could have moved at all.”
 

Based on that, the man assumed that he would have had to have traveled a short distance, either from his neighbor’s house or the nearby trailer park. “But I believe the park is closed; they’re going to try to sell it to a developer. That’s all we need,” he added, “more homes to ruin our peaceful rural setting.”
 

Chapter 38

Donna and her companion drove up to their trailer just as Anderson was about to reach the wooded area. Donna sensed something was wrong even before she entered. She immediately went to the laundry area. She cringed when she saw the broken vent pipe, part of it still firmly secured in its cement base, the other half lying on the laundry room’s terrazzo floor. Polish had just entered the room. “Jesus!” he said, “he got away.”

“You idiot! I put you in charge of finding a way to secure him so there was no way he could get out.”

“Well, damn it!” he said. “You agreed that he wouldn’t be able to get free! Anyway, he’s still chained up, so he couldn’t have gone far; we should be able to spot him easily.”
 

“Oh, yeah?” Donna said, “He could have flagged down a passing car; he could have gone anywhere—to a neighbor’s house, or who knows where? For all we know, the cops could be on their way right now. And wouldn’t it be great fun if they pulled up while we were outside with our flashlights looking for him. What would we say? ‘Uh, officer, have you seen our kidnap victim, he was in the trailer a short time ago and we seemed to have lost him, would you please help us?’
 

“You dumb-ass, we have to get out of here. I’ll make sure there’s no paperwork in the drawers, and you go wipe the prints off everything. But make it fast. You take your car and head back in the direction of Sarasota. I’ll head east toward Arcadia and then southwest on route 17. But first, there’s something I have to do.”