What Have You Done(19)

There was a knock on the door. Detective Keenan was standing just outside Liam’s office, his giant frame taking up most of the doorway. “You got a minute?” Keenan asked.

Liam waved him in. “Yeah. What’s up?”

“Just want to bounce a couple of questions off you based on what we have so far for the homicide at the Tiger. Make sure I’m heading in the right direction.”

“Sure.”

“What do you think the significance of shaving the victim’s head was?”

Liam leaned back in his seat. Images of his mother hanging over the tub, trying to drown him when he was a little boy, slipped into his mind’s eye. “My guess would be trophies. Something like that. I’ve read cases where the killer would have wigs made from the victims’ hair in order to stay close to their murders. There apparently is such a rush they get when committing these kinds of crime they need to keep something to remember it by, remember the feeling of that rush. It’s not uncommon for a murderer to want to keep something from the victim as a souvenir.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too. And the stomach. I’m thinking cutting her was an act of rage. I mean, she was going to die from the hanging. Why cut too?”

“Maybe,” Liam replied. “Could also be the opposite. Maybe he cut her deep across the stomach to expedite her death, make it quicker. Some kind of a mercy kill.”

“Yeah, maybe. Helluva way to show mercy, though.”

“I’m going to call Gerri Cain and get some time with her. See what she thinks. I’ll give you the information when I get it.”

“Good.” Keenan leaned against the door. He tapped his pen against the butt of his gun that was strapped to his hip. “One more thing?”

“Yeah.”

“I just gotta say that I didn’t like that your brother came to the scene yesterday without you telling us. I didn’t want to cause any trouble with the uniforms there, but just so we’re clear, that was crap. You do something like that again, and we’re going to have a problem.”

Liam nodded and said nothing. Keenan waited a moment longer, then turned and left.

When he heard the door to the lab close and the office was quiet again, Liam picked up the phone and noticed his hands were trembling slightly. He scrolled through his contacts list on his computer and dialed.

“Jefferson Hospital, Psychiatric Unit,” a pleasant voice announced.

“Dr. Cain, please.”

“Whom shall I say is speaking?”

“Liam Dwyer, Philadelphia Police. She’ll know who I am.”

“One moment, please.”

Music played, and as he waited, Liam pulled up the Automated Fingerprint Identification System from the FBI database and uploaded the prints that were still on his computer screen. The AFIS held millions of fingerprints taken and scanned from countless suspects, convicted felons, law enforcement officials, military personnel, and those in the financial industry. He rose from his chair as the computer searched its files for possible matches. The process would take several minutes.

“Liam Dwyer. Long time since I last heard from you.”

Liam immediately felt at ease when he heard the gentle caress of Gerri Cain’s voice. “Hello, Gerri.”

“How have you been?”

“I’ve been good,” he lied. “And you?”

“I can’t complain. You know, trying to help as many people as I can in as little time as they give me. Same old story.”

“I see Mitchell still has high aspirations.”

“I couldn’t get my husband off the podium if I tried. Next stop is the White House, as far as that man is concerned.”

“Well, tell him I said hi.”

“Of course.”

Liam gripped the phone tighter. “I was hoping you might be able to help me with a case I just inherited.”

The doctor’s voice rose in anticipation. “Will we be working together again?”

“I need some questions answered, but only if you can spare the time. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re never a burden. I love getting in on this stuff.”

“I need about a half hour as soon as you can spare it.”

Shuffling of an appointment book. A pause. “How about my office this morning around eleven? If that doesn’t work, you’ll have to wait until the end of the week.”

“Eleven is fine. Thanks for squeezing me in.”

“Shall I call in Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys? I hear they like this sort of thing.”

Liam smiled. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. The Hardy Boys’ll make it too crowded, and Nancy’ll want to do it her own way and then write a tell-all afterward. I hear she’s a control freak. I’ll just take you and that wonderful noggin full of stuff I need to know.”

The doctor laughed. “Sounds good. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay, see you then. Bye.”

Liam hung up and logged the appointment in his planner. Gerri had helped him on cases before, drawing up psychological profiles to assist the team in tracking suspects. Perhaps she could help again. At the very least she would be able to provide some good insight into the questions surrounding the case.

The phone rang.