talking about the killer, but as much about Brad.
He motioned at the wall with a nod. “They do what they do out of pain, and a small part of me can understand that. Not the
way they react to it, of course, but the pain itself. Let’s just say I’ve loved and I’ve felt the pain of a terrible loss.
A woman I once knew. It’s why I can identify.”
He stopped, not knowing where he was heading. Suddenly uncomfortable.
After a pause, Nikki stepped up to him and touched his shoulder in a show of empathy. But she seemed awkward, and he felt
the same. She removed her hand and faced the wall.
“You’ve never mentioned that before. I never knew.”
“I know. We were talking about long-harbored secrets, remember?”
She nodded. A long pause flowed between them, one Brad made no effort to end.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she finally said.
“It’s okay. We all do at some point.”
But he wasn’t sure about that. The pain he’d felt had left him wishing for death. In a way, he was waging his own personal
campaign against death even now. It was why he’d joined the FBI, now that he thought of it.
“But you’re right,” he said, resuming an earlier thread, “part of understanding someone else comes from exposing yourself.”
She looked at him, then grinned at his choice of words.
“So to speak…”
There,
he thought with a surge of relief. Back on familiar ground—the tinged banter. Their usual territory.
His cell rang and he picked it up, thankful for the interruption.
It was Frank. The staff had registered an interesting hit while cross-referencing the killer’s note with the mental health
facilities database.
“You ever hear of a place called the Center for Wellness and Intelligence?”
“No, I don’t think so. Hold on.” Brad asked Nikki if she’d heard of the facility. She stared upward for a moment, then shook
her head.
“It’s a private residential facility in the hills south of Boulder that only takes mentally ill patients with high IQs,” Frank
said. “As far as we can gather.”
Brad glanced at the wall. The confession. A single line expanded in his field of view.
Where intelligence does centered.
The
Center
for Wellness and
Intelligence.
Nikki followed his eyes and saw what he saw.
“The program picked up on the words
center
—”
“I got it, Frank. Text me the address and advise the administrator that we’re on our way.”
“Yes, sir.”
He snapped the phone shut.
“You think it’s something?”
“It’s a lead,” he said. “He’s playing us, right? So let’s play.”
5
ACCORDING TO COLORADO’S Department of Mental Health, the state’s organization had certified and currently regulated fifty-three facilities that cared
for the mentally ill, ranging from state hospitals to residential care facilities and nursing homes.
The Center for Wellness and Intelligence was listed as a referral facility, privately run and uncertified.
State-by-state closure of state asylums and hospitals between 1960 and 1990 had flooded the streets with mentally ill patients
who had no provider to take up their care or cause. Many, up to half by some estimates, wound up incarcerated.
Over time, a range of facilities began to take up the slack, but no national care system had yet replaced the atrociously
run asylums that once blanketed the country. There was more to the story, much more according to what Brad had learned while
in Miami. Some said that mistreatment of the mentally ill was one of the country’s few remaining dark secrets. No one wanted
to lock them up in expensive institutions. Yet no one knew how to treat them effectively through any other means. Better to
sweep them all under a rug, otherwise known as the streets and alleyways of the modern city.
They left Nikki’s car at the crime scene and headed east toward Eldorado Springs. The small town was nestled at the base of
the Rocky Mountains, roughly six miles southwest
He motioned at the wall with a nod. “They do what they do out of pain, and a small part of me can understand that. Not the
way they react to it, of course, but the pain itself. Let’s just say I’ve loved and I’ve felt the pain of a terrible loss.
A woman I once knew. It’s why I can identify.”
He stopped, not knowing where he was heading. Suddenly uncomfortable.
After a pause, Nikki stepped up to him and touched his shoulder in a show of empathy. But she seemed awkward, and he felt
the same. She removed her hand and faced the wall.
“You’ve never mentioned that before. I never knew.”
“I know. We were talking about long-harbored secrets, remember?”
She nodded. A long pause flowed between them, one Brad made no effort to end.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she finally said.
“It’s okay. We all do at some point.”
But he wasn’t sure about that. The pain he’d felt had left him wishing for death. In a way, he was waging his own personal
campaign against death even now. It was why he’d joined the FBI, now that he thought of it.
“But you’re right,” he said, resuming an earlier thread, “part of understanding someone else comes from exposing yourself.”
She looked at him, then grinned at his choice of words.
“So to speak…”
There,
he thought with a surge of relief. Back on familiar ground—the tinged banter. Their usual territory.
His cell rang and he picked it up, thankful for the interruption.
It was Frank. The staff had registered an interesting hit while cross-referencing the killer’s note with the mental health
facilities database.
“You ever hear of a place called the Center for Wellness and Intelligence?”
“No, I don’t think so. Hold on.” Brad asked Nikki if she’d heard of the facility. She stared upward for a moment, then shook
her head.
“It’s a private residential facility in the hills south of Boulder that only takes mentally ill patients with high IQs,” Frank
said. “As far as we can gather.”
Brad glanced at the wall. The confession. A single line expanded in his field of view.
Where intelligence does centered.
The
Center
for Wellness and
Intelligence.
Nikki followed his eyes and saw what he saw.
“The program picked up on the words
center
—”
“I got it, Frank. Text me the address and advise the administrator that we’re on our way.”
“Yes, sir.”
He snapped the phone shut.
“You think it’s something?”
“It’s a lead,” he said. “He’s playing us, right? So let’s play.”
5
ACCORDING TO COLORADO’S Department of Mental Health, the state’s organization had certified and currently regulated fifty-three facilities that cared
for the mentally ill, ranging from state hospitals to residential care facilities and nursing homes.
The Center for Wellness and Intelligence was listed as a referral facility, privately run and uncertified.
State-by-state closure of state asylums and hospitals between 1960 and 1990 had flooded the streets with mentally ill patients
who had no provider to take up their care or cause. Many, up to half by some estimates, wound up incarcerated.
Over time, a range of facilities began to take up the slack, but no national care system had yet replaced the atrociously
run asylums that once blanketed the country. There was more to the story, much more according to what Brad had learned while
in Miami. Some said that mistreatment of the mentally ill was one of the country’s few remaining dark secrets. No one wanted
to lock them up in expensive institutions. Yet no one knew how to treat them effectively through any other means. Better to
sweep them all under a rug, otherwise known as the streets and alleyways of the modern city.
They left Nikki’s car at the crime scene and headed east toward Eldorado Springs. The small town was nestled at the base of
the Rocky Mountains, roughly six miles southwest
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