he did it."
"You may not be a licensed professional in this state by the time he comes to trial."
My elevator was headed for the roof. I took a deep breath. "Stop threatening me, Emma. I don't respond well to being pushed around."
"Could be those late-night shopping sprees in front of the Emerson Hotel," she mocked. "If you don't sleep, you get edgy. Your judgment can be way off. That's something else I'm supposed to let the Board in on."
"What the hell are you—"
"Save it, Frank. We've had surveillance cameras in front of the Emerson for months. You really should be more discreet."
Just then Officer Lucey raced in. He looked panicked. "We need help in there. Westmoreland's going off again."
I ran to the cell with the two of them. Westmoreland was pressed against the far wall with Malloy facing him. He had stuck his tongue out and was biting into it. Blood was streaming down his chin and neck.
Malloy's hands patted the air. "Go easy," he said.
Westmoreland screamed. Blood sprayed into the air. He caught his tongue between his teeth again and bit down hard.
"Shit," Malloy said. He seemed to be wiping blood off his face.
"Can somebody bring me up to speed here?" Hancock demanded.
Malloy didn't turn around. "I asked him one simple question, and he went berserk."
I walked into the cell and stood next to Malloy. "What question?"
He shrugged. "His real name. That's it."
"Did he tell you?" Hancock asked.
"Not at first. I had to ask him half a dozen times before I got George La-something out of him. Then he went into his clam act."
Westmoreland clenched his jaws. The blood started flowing even faster.
"George, you're only hurting yourself," Hancock said.
It was a mindless thing for her to say and it made Westmoreland scream out, then bite even more fiercely into himself. But it also gave me an idea. I was starting to think that the only person Westmoreland was really willing to hurt was himself. I walked away from Malloy and stood against the wall about ten feet from Westmoreland. I took out a little silver pocket knife I carry to cut coke and clicked the blade into place.
"Put that thing away!" Hancock yelled.
I looked over at Westmoreland. His eyes met mine. I held my arm up where he could see it and pressed the blade against my wrist. "Your suffering is my suffering," I whispered. "Tell me when we can stop."
Westmoreland kept his jaw tight.
I ran the blade over my skin so that it scratched a white line across my wrist.
His eyes widened, but his jaw stayed set.
I gritted my teeth and dragged the blade across my wrist with just enough pressure to break the skin. A clean line appeared, then turned bright red with blood.
"Oh, my God," Malloy whispered.
Westmoreland stared at my wrist, then glanced at his own.
I moved the blade to the beginning of the cut, closed my eyes and pressed hard enough for the tip to sink in about a quarter inch. I felt a sharp pain for a second, then a deep aching sensation spreading down my hand. I squirmed against the wall.
Westmoreland began to sob.
I looked over and saw he hadn't let go his tongue.
I pushed the blade in a little further.
He fell to his knees. His jaw finally relaxed. "Stop, Father," he pleaded. "My sins are great enough."
I lingered against the wall a few moments, then pulled the blade out of my wrist and walked over to him. I held out my hand. He took it and let me guide him to his cot.
"Make sure he gets seen at an emergency room," I told Hancock once I was out of the cell.
"That was quite a show, Frank," she said. "How did you know he'd stop?"
"Because he's not a killer."
She stiffened. "Your batting average on curve balls is already pretty low."
"I've never thought to keep score with people's lives," I said. I walked past her and out of the station.
Chapter 4
I trudged to the parking lot, pulled myself into the car, started the engine, then just sat there
"You may not be a licensed professional in this state by the time he comes to trial."
My elevator was headed for the roof. I took a deep breath. "Stop threatening me, Emma. I don't respond well to being pushed around."
"Could be those late-night shopping sprees in front of the Emerson Hotel," she mocked. "If you don't sleep, you get edgy. Your judgment can be way off. That's something else I'm supposed to let the Board in on."
"What the hell are you—"
"Save it, Frank. We've had surveillance cameras in front of the Emerson for months. You really should be more discreet."
Just then Officer Lucey raced in. He looked panicked. "We need help in there. Westmoreland's going off again."
I ran to the cell with the two of them. Westmoreland was pressed against the far wall with Malloy facing him. He had stuck his tongue out and was biting into it. Blood was streaming down his chin and neck.
Malloy's hands patted the air. "Go easy," he said.
Westmoreland screamed. Blood sprayed into the air. He caught his tongue between his teeth again and bit down hard.
"Shit," Malloy said. He seemed to be wiping blood off his face.
"Can somebody bring me up to speed here?" Hancock demanded.
Malloy didn't turn around. "I asked him one simple question, and he went berserk."
I walked into the cell and stood next to Malloy. "What question?"
He shrugged. "His real name. That's it."
"Did he tell you?" Hancock asked.
"Not at first. I had to ask him half a dozen times before I got George La-something out of him. Then he went into his clam act."
Westmoreland clenched his jaws. The blood started flowing even faster.
"George, you're only hurting yourself," Hancock said.
It was a mindless thing for her to say and it made Westmoreland scream out, then bite even more fiercely into himself. But it also gave me an idea. I was starting to think that the only person Westmoreland was really willing to hurt was himself. I walked away from Malloy and stood against the wall about ten feet from Westmoreland. I took out a little silver pocket knife I carry to cut coke and clicked the blade into place.
"Put that thing away!" Hancock yelled.
I looked over at Westmoreland. His eyes met mine. I held my arm up where he could see it and pressed the blade against my wrist. "Your suffering is my suffering," I whispered. "Tell me when we can stop."
Westmoreland kept his jaw tight.
I ran the blade over my skin so that it scratched a white line across my wrist.
His eyes widened, but his jaw stayed set.
I gritted my teeth and dragged the blade across my wrist with just enough pressure to break the skin. A clean line appeared, then turned bright red with blood.
"Oh, my God," Malloy whispered.
Westmoreland stared at my wrist, then glanced at his own.
I moved the blade to the beginning of the cut, closed my eyes and pressed hard enough for the tip to sink in about a quarter inch. I felt a sharp pain for a second, then a deep aching sensation spreading down my hand. I squirmed against the wall.
Westmoreland began to sob.
I looked over and saw he hadn't let go his tongue.
I pushed the blade in a little further.
He fell to his knees. His jaw finally relaxed. "Stop, Father," he pleaded. "My sins are great enough."
I lingered against the wall a few moments, then pulled the blade out of my wrist and walked over to him. I held out my hand. He took it and let me guide him to his cot.
"Make sure he gets seen at an emergency room," I told Hancock once I was out of the cell.
"That was quite a show, Frank," she said. "How did you know he'd stop?"
"Because he's not a killer."
She stiffened. "Your batting average on curve balls is already pretty low."
"I've never thought to keep score with people's lives," I said. I walked past her and out of the station.
Chapter 4
I trudged to the parking lot, pulled myself into the car, started the engine, then just sat there
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