Neither Foster nor Li said a thing, but Silva could tell she’d just become more interesting to them both. She decided to make good use of the moment. “Young women of a certain type. Concealed, especially their faces.”
“Who is he?” Foster asked.
Li added, “And where can we find him?”
Satisfied she’d broken through, moved from quack to serious contender, Silva took a moment to collect her thoughts and choose her words carefully. “He’s a former patient, a man I believe to be very unstable. His name is Bodie Morgan, and I believe he is a danger to himself and others.”
“You’re turning in your patient?” Foster said.
Silva’s eyes held hers. “I’d like to think I’m helping him. That’s how strongly I take this. Mr. Morgan had been arrested for stalking two young women several months ago. That much he told me, though, of course, he maintained it was all a misunderstanding. Apparently, Morgan’s lawyer suggested Westhaven, and he resented having to take the suggestion. He isn’t the first person to flee to a psychiatric facility to avoid jail time or demonstrate good faith to a judge. Thirty days. I listened to him tell me about himself. He wasn’t truthful.”
“Go on,” Foster said.
“I couldn’t break through,” Silva said. “The sessions ended in stalemate. I can help him. There’s a course of therapy. But he has to be willing. And though I suspect him, believe him to be dangerous, I have no proof that he killed anyone.”
“You come forward now? After three deaths,” Foster said. “Why not after the first or the second?”
“You’re angry at the loss of life. You also feel some personal responsibility for the victims, for not catching him in time to save them.” Silva wasn’t talking to Foster directly, just running through ideas aloud, confident she’d read Foster correctly.
“Can we skip the parlor tricks?” Foster asked. “Tell us more about this Bodie Morgan.”
“He’s deeply damaged. Trauma literally oozes out of him. I’ve spent my entire career working to understand the mentally ill.”
Silva folded her hands on the table, enjoying being the center of attention, maybe a little too much. She was in no hurry to wind it all out for them. “He’s suffering from a disconnect. A short circuit in the wiring. I would say brought on by childhood distress, maybe even abuse. There’s active abuse, you see—slaps, beatings, kicks—and passive: emotional manipulation, neglect, the use of fear or persuasion. Bodie Morgan has experienced some or all of this and is likely acting it out with the women to which he’s drawn.”
“Not all abused children become murderers,” Foster said.
“True. But you’d be hard pressed to find a murderer who hasn’t been abused in some way. If I had to guess, and I rarely do, I would say whatever happened to Bodie changed him in profound ways. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you more. I can only bring him to your attention. I would be willing to be of assistance if you decide to look at him further. He might feel more comfortable speaking with someone familiar.” Silva slid her business card across the table. “I’m available day or night.”
“His address?” Li asked.
Silva recited it, then sat back and waited. “I’ve been completely truthful here.”
Li flicked Foster a look, got up, and left the room.
“More checking?” Silva asked.
“Yes,” Foster said.
Silva had expected an easier time and a lot more deference. She got neither. “You don’t trust me,” she said.
Foster paged through her notebook, waiting on Li. “I’m not in the trust business.”
“No, I can see that.”
Li returned. Silva tracked her as she sat down and slid a file toward her partner. Everyone waited in silence until Foster read the contents.
“The officers who arrested Bodie Morgan found him on the roof of his building ready to jump,” Foster said. “So he’s suicidal on top of being a psychopathic killer?”
Silva shook her head. “He wasn’t going to jump.”
“You sound sure of that,” Li said.
“I am. If he was found on the edge of that roof, it was for some other reason.”
The room grew so quiet that Silva could hear warm air blowing out of the vents. Foster closed the file and stood up. Li stood too. “Thanks for coming in, Dr. Silva.”
The meeting was over. She was being dismissed. Would they consult her when they spoke to Bodie? She needed the guarantee. “He’ll shut down,” Silva said. “I should be here when you talk to him. In fact, I believe, given the choice between talking to me and talking to you, he’ll choose me.”
Foster smiled, but there was something in it that Silva couldn’t quite make out. “We won’t give him that choice. An officer will see you out.”
Silva was guided to the exit. As the police escort walked her down the hall, she could feel Foster and Li watching her, judging her. She grew angrier with every step she took. What right did they have to question her motives? They were going to freeze her out; she knew it. She pushed through the front doors, leaving her escort behind.
“Damn them,” she said under her breath.
CHAPTER 44
At her desk, Foster pored over the record of Bodie Morgan’s stalking arrest. She looked up at Li sitting across from her, pulling up ID records on the women who’d pressed charges against him. “He does seem to have some serious issues,” she said.
Li stared at her monitor. “Listen to this—the two women who reported Morgan for stalking them say he really freaked them out. It wasn’t just him showing up at the same places, a bar, coffee shop, whatever.” She shoved a copy of a driver’s license across the desks. “This one, Katherine Wright, filed her complaint first. Morgan wouldn’t let up. I really hate a creepy guy.”
“She met him where?”
“Both complainants say they remember meeting him in a bar. Not the same bar. But both bars aren’t far from Morgan’s apartment or theirs. And meet him, apparently, is all they did. He approached, tried to pick them up, and I guess they smelled the weird on him and froze him out.”
“But he kept coming back?”
Li nodded. “Nearly every time they walked into a bar, he’d be there. Again, different bars, different nights, he’s there and starts up again. What’d they both do? They complain to the owners. He gets tossed.”
“And they choose different bars the next time,” Foster said.
“Right. Logical. Only he shows up there too. He gets tossed again, and for a while it’s all good, and then, bam, he’s back. Then the second victim swears she sees Morgan in her backyard, just standing there looking up at her windows. That would have done it for me.”
“There was a chase,” Foster said, referring to the report in front of her. “A Detective Tynan caught him?”
Li leaned back, smiled. “Oh, this is rich. The second victim’s Reese Tynan, whose brother, Detective Ciaran Tynan, just happens to work out of the Sixteenth District. Reese tells Ciaran all about the bar creep; bro cop moves into her place, staking it out. Morgan shows up doing his creepy loser thing, and Ciaran comes barreling out the door to grab him, only Morgan runs off. The chase ends on the roof of Morgan’s place. Tynan put in the report later that it looked like Morgan was getting ready to jump when he finally cornered him, but he snatched him back before he could. Morgan’s sporting a fat lip and a shiner in his mug shot. Tynan swears Morgan tripped on the stairs on the way down. I say he had the trip coming. Silva was right. It being his first offense, he got probation instead of time. His walking voluntarily into Westhaven, I guess, was his attempt at proving he wasn’t a complete scumbag?”