First to Kill (23 page)

“Thank you, Doctor,” Henning said. “I appreciate it.”

“I’d prefer if we talk out here,” Fitzgerald said. “The less we’re seen together, the better. I know a nice spot under some trees. I eat lunch there all the time.”

The cabdriver looked over with a questioning expression. Nathan asked him to keep the meter running and wait. The three men began walking down the sidewalk. After several hundred yards, they veered over to a group of oaks. There wasn’t any place to sit except on the grass, so that’s what they did. The meeting instantly became cordial as though they were there for a picnic, not a discussion of national security.

“This okay?” Fitzgerald asked.

“Perfect,” Nathan answered. “You know why we’re here.”

“I do.”

“I appreciate you meeting with us on such short notice.”

“You realize I’m hanging my tail out on a limb talking to you.”

“You have my word as a Marine Corps officer, it doesn’t go any further than us. We need to find Ernie Bridgestone and his brother. Find them fast.”

“I’m not sure what I can do to help.”

“There are a couple of things. First, I’m looking for any insight into his head, how he thinks.”

“I’ve counseled hundreds of troubled souls, but he possesses a pathology we don’t see very often.”

Nathan waited while the doctor gathered his thoughts.

“He’s what I’d consider a borderline devoid.”

“Devoid?” Henning asked.

“I’ll try to explain by using an example. A mother has a child, a little boy for our purposes. As the child matures, his mother starts to notice he isn’t like other boys. He doesn’t smile or laugh or cry or show any type of emotion at all. He’s picked on by other children. They think he’s stupid because he doesn’t laugh when they do, and it’s made worse when he doesn’t react to their ridicule. So imagine the mother sitting the little boy down and explaining that when he sees other children laugh, he should do the same thing. She teaches him to curve his lips up in a smile, show his teeth, and make a heh-heh-heh sound like the other children do.”

“That is seriously messed up,” Henning said.

“That’s right, Special Agent Henning. Just as some children are born with a childhood disease that cripples parts of their bodies, others are either born or molded into masking emotions. That’s why I consider him a borderline case. I believe his emotional responses are suppressed, not missing altogether, although I can’t be certain of that diagnosis.”

“I’m assuming guilt would be missing as well?” Nathan asked.

“Definitely. As a child, he would’ve had a hard time distinguishing between right and wrong. What all of us instinctively know as being wrong, say like mistreating an animal, is missing, or more accurately, short-circuited. The safety mechanism is bypassed, or it’s missing altogether. He doesn’t feel any regret for the Sacramento bombing. None.”

Henning visibly stiffened a little.

“What about his brother, Leonard?” Nathan asked. “What would Ernie feel toward him?”

“Loyalty isn’t clearly defined as an emotion. In fact, I don’t think it’s an emotional state of mind per se. I mention it because Ernie Bridgestone is extremely loyal to his older brother. He talked about Leonard often.”

“In what way?” Nathan asked.

“Mostly about their childhood. Their father was abusive. Brutally so, I’m afraid, and their mother didn’t intervene. A common belief among psychologists is that the first year of a baby’s life is perhaps the most important. I wouldn’t be surprised if Ernie had also been neglected for long periods of time. Try to imagine it: An infant cries because it’s hungry or lonely, but there’s no one there to feed or comfort it, to give it the tactile feedback it needs to feel secure and loved. Think of it, an infant screaming into the dark, isolated and alone, for hours, maybe even days.” Fitzgerald shook his head. “It’s cruel beyond comprehension. I truly believe Ernie is the product of such an environment. Leonard is a few years older, so he might have filled in where his mother didn’t. It would explain the strong family bond Ernie feels toward Leonard.”

“Isn’t it reasonable to assume Leonard was subjected to the same neglect?” Henning asked. “And wouldn’t he then have the same condition?”

“Yes and no. I believe he was, but some people can overcome such trauma through intellect. My own father, for example. He was from a broken and abusive home, but he became a valuable member of society, putting himself through medical school and becoming a Naval flight surgeon. He was also a loving father to me and my sisters. He broke the cycle. Some can, some can’t, or more accurately, some won’t. They justify their negative behavior by blaming someone else. This act of blaming, of being a victim, if you will, becomes part of their pathology.”

Nathan nodded his understanding. “Would Ernie have been able to form a meaningful relationship with anyone other than his brother? We know he was married.”

“The answer is yes, but it depends on what you mean by meaningful.”

“Love, would he be capable of love?”

“I’d have to say no. At least not in the way we think of it. His love would be based on actions, not emotion. I’ll give you an example. Let’s say Ernie comes home from work and his wife hasn’t cleaned up the kitchen from breakfast. She’s tired or having a bad day, or whatever. Ernie would interpret the dirty dishes in the sink as a sign she didn’t love him. Follow?”

Nathan nodded. “Tough situation. She’d never be able to do enough to prove her love.”

“That’s exactly right. A relationship like that is doomed from the start. No matter what she did, it would never be good enough because the emotional bond is missing. When people are truly in love with each other, small things are forgiven and forgotten. Not so with a devoid. Seeing those dirty dishes is like a slap in the face. He doesn’t look at the dishes with compassion and ask her if anything’s wrong, he just sees them as indication she doesn’t love him. Living with a devoid would be the ultimate walk on eggshells.”

“Why would someone stay with a person like that?” Henning asked.

“The simplest answer is love. She loved him and was willing to put up with his shortcomings. There are other reasons. She might’ve had nowhere else to go, or she was convinced she could change him if she only did this. None of it would make a difference. The tragic reality is, unless Ernie gets comprehensive psychiatric help, he’ll never change. He’ll never come to terms with who and what he is. I was beginning to make some real progress with him just before he was released. You have to remember, on some level these people instinctively know there’s something’s wrong with them, they just don’t know what it is or how it happened. To use a simplistic example, take cats. If kittens are exposed to human love and affection within the first few weeks of their lives, they become pets. If not, they’re feral. Of course, it’s not that simple with humans, but the principle’s basically the same. Unless an infant receives the stimuli needed to feel safe and secure, it’s guaranteed to grow up with emotional problems to one degree or another.”

“What’s his prognosis?”

“Unless he receives comprehensive therapy, hopeless. He won’t change. He can’t. To use a metaphor, he’ll spend the rest of his life barking at the moon.”

“What did you talk about?” Nathan asked. “I mean generally. You know. What did Ernie think his problems were?”

“That’s easy,” said Fitzgerald. “It was the drunk-driving incident that landed him here. He claimed he was railroaded.”

“Was he?”

“I reviewed the police reports and eyewitness accounts. There’s no question Ernie was legally drunk, but not overly so. From everything I remember reading, it wasn’t truly his fault. The woman walked out from between two parked cars. Even if he hadn’t been drinking, she still would’ve died. She was quite drunk herself.”

“But railroaded?” Nathan asked. “It sounds like you actually give that some credence.”

“I do give it some credence. Some, mind you.” Fitzgerald paused, trying to remember. “I don’t recall her name, but I think she was from a family of some influence. Justice acted swiftly in the case, that’s for sure. I kept copies of the newspaper articles in Ernie’s file. He griped about it a lot, to the point of being obsessive, swore to get revenge someday. He also never believed he got a fair court-martial.”

“They’re all innocent,” Henning said.

“Point taken,” Fitzgerald said. “But if the circumstances had been slightly different, there may not have been any charges leveled at all.”

“We’ll check it out,” Nathan said. “Please send us everything you have on Ernie’s DUI conviction.”

“Will do.”

Nathan stood, shook hands, and gave Dr. Fitzgerald a business card with his cell and fax numbers handwritten on the back. Henning did the same. “I really appreciate you talking to us.”

“To be honest, it wasn’t my decision. I got a call from the USDB’s commanding officer, who got a call from the fort’s commanding officer, who had received a call from the Chief of Staff of the Army.”

Good old Thorny
, Nathan thought. “Well, I still appreciate it.”

“One last thing,” Fitzgerald said. “Watch yourselves. They don’t come more vicious than Ernie Bridgestone.”

Chapter  15

On the drive out of the fort, Nathan and Henning rode in silence. They didn’t want to discuss anything in front of the cabbie. Back at the motel, Nathan paid the fare and offered a generous tip.

Walking through the lobby, Nathan asked, “So, what do you think?”

Henning shook his head. “That stuff about teaching a kid to smile was creepy.”

“Yeah, it’s weird, all right.”

“What do you think?”

“What I think,” Nathan said, “is that wherever we go next, we should rent a car. It’d be better than taking taxis all over creation.”

“So where do we go next?”

“Fresno, to pay Amber Sheldon a visit.” Nathan looked at his watch. “I want to keep moving. When we find her, we won’t have time to conduct a prolonged surveillance. We’ll take the direct approach and knock on her door.”

“Just like that?”

“You have a better idea?”

“Not really.”

“We need to run her through the NCIC. Can you access the database from the motel?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe we’ll catch a break. If she’s in the system we’ll have a current address, even better if she’s on parole or probation. If she’s not at home when we show up, her PO will have her employment info.”

“What do you hope to learn from her?” asked Henning. “I mean, besides the obvious,  Ernie’s whereabouts.”

“I’m not sure yet. I won’t know until I talk to her. We might be able to use her.”

“Use her? Like bait?”

Nathan needed to change the subject. He didn’t want to discuss this train of thought aloud. “We should call and check on your SAC, see how she’s doing and give her an update.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

“I’ll swing by your room in ten minutes.”

Back in his room, Nathan thought about Amber Mills Sheldon. Interrogating a woman involved different techniques and psychology. In truth, he hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. He’d interrogated women before and in some regards found them to be more resilient than men. Despite common belief, interrogation was a mind game more than anything else. To be effective, the victim’s spirit must be broken. Physical discomfort, while effective, wasn’t the best method unless the information was time-sensitive.

He wished he had a female interrogator available. The psychology of having a woman present, looking on with emotional detachment and a complete lack of sympathy, worked well toward breaking a female’s spirit. Having a woman present was especially effective against men. Nathan figured it was the macho syndrome. Men didn’t like to appear weak and vulnerable, especially in front of women. Once again, it was all about mind games. Unless the victim had counter-interrogation training, it usually didn’t take long to wring information out of them. If that held true, Amber Sheldon wouldn’t be much of a challenge.

He gave Henning a few extra minutes before knocking on his door.

“It’s not locked,” Henning said.

Nathan stepped in and left the door partly open. Sitting at a small desk, Henning was typing on his laptop’s keyboard.

“What’ve we got?” Nathan asked.

“Amber Sheldon is currently on probation for drunk and disorderly contact, disturbing the peace, and driving while intoxicated. Here, take a look. I didn’t bring a printer.”

Nathan looked over Henning’s shoulder while he scrolled down to Amber Sheldon’s color mug shot. As usual, she didn’t look real happy. She had stringy blond hair, blue eyes, and a hollow, sullen-looking face, probably from using. She looked hard, a summa cum laude graduate of the school of hard knocks. When the picture was taken, she definitely fit the description of
rode hard and put away wet
. The photo was a year old.

“She’s got a fairly long sheet,” Henning continued. “Nothing too serious. We have a current address, phone number, and place of employment. She lives in Fresno. Works at an establishment called Pete’s Truck Palace. Let’s see… After her arrest in 2006, her driver’s license was revoked for six months. Based on her background and the trouble she’s had with the law over the years, I’m not expecting her to be real friendly. Let’s make that call to SAC Simpson. I think she’ll want you present for the call.”

Henning pulled his cell and scrolled down the numbers stored in memory. When he found the number he wanted, he hit send. He didn’t put it on speaker yet. Nathan waited.

“Hi SAC, how are you feeling? Yes, he’s here. Okay.” Henning pressed the speaker button. “You’re on speaker.”

“Hi, Nathan.”

Nathan sat on the bed. “Hey there.” He didn’t ask how she was feeling, he already knew.

“How are things going out there?” she asked.

“Good. The meeting with the Castle’s shrink was helpful.”

“What did you find out?”

Nathan went over the salient points of their discussion. He finished with what they found on Amber Sheldon in the NCIC.

“That’s good,” Holly said. “You heading to Fresno?”

Nathan nodded for Henning to take over.