Dreamscape (19 page)

“Marcus DeNair believed the best of people. He wanted to keep the boy, but his wife believed that there was something wrong with Henry. I believe she said more than once that he was possessed. Marcus DeNair swore he never saw any of the behaviors his wife did, but she was concerned about their two children.

“Henry’s grandfather passed away shortly before the incident with his hands, but even after that Marcus’s wife said no to taking Henry in. When Henry was eleven, his aunt passed away from breast cancer. Shortly after, Marcus DeNair took Henry in for good. That’s when I began to see him.

“Henry exhibited many characteristics of a sociopath even at that time. Over the years, his profile heightened. Marcus DeNair sent Henry to the best schools. And even being behind due to his upbringing, Henry thrived academically. I believe his IQ is almost genius level, but if anyone made him mad, he had a bad temper. He enacted revenge of some sort or other.

“At first, it was small things like stealing the other kid’s backpack or keys. Little things, but when he was in eighth grade he got caught leaving dog droppings in a kid’s locker that had beaten him in a math test. Mr. DeNair had to change his school after that one.

“I began to know Henry better and better. I had to wear down the front he put on. He presented himself rather well, was even likable at times. But if I pushed beyond the mask, a scary individual lurked behind it capable of all sorts of evil.”

Dr. Lewis cleared his throat. “The last incident was the one that I had to take action on. It screamed sociopath. Henry had always been sensitive to his height. He was on the short side, I don’t know if that’s changed or not. He asked a girl to the Freshman Dance. I was aware of how much it took for him to ask the girl. I even encouraged him to.

“Unfortunately, the girl said no. The next day, the girl’s parents found the girl’s cat hanging in front of their daughter’s bedroom window. The cat had been tortured—gutted—and finally hung. The girl saw it all. The day after, the girl got a note saying she was next.

“The school or police couldn’t charge Henry with anything. They had no proof, but again Henry was asked to leave. It was then that I saw a side of Henry that even scared me. He never admitted to the cat incident, but he began sharing his fantasies with me.

“He had two favorites. One was his aunt being raped and cut up so no one could recognize her. The other was about his mother. He wanted her to die a slow, agonizing death in front of him.”

Dr. Lewis rubbed his eyes before continuing. “I had no choice but to recommend that Henry be institutionalized. Marcus DeNair would hear nothing of it. He thought love could cure all. I never saw Henry again.

“A few years later, Marcus DeNair’s children died in a freak car accident. Then I received a phone call two years later from Marcus DeNair, but I was on vacation. When I returned the call, he too was dead. I was told it was a heart attack. That left Henry DeNair an extremely wealthy young man. I didn’t believe then the car accident was an accident and I don’t believe that Marcus DeNair’s death was a heart attack.

“I went to the police with my suspicions. It went nowhere. There was no evidence, none, even though the police, too, thought it suspicious.

“Henry DeNair isn’t the garden variety sociopath. I would consider it a challenge to exactly pinpoint his mental status. He’s far more complicated than what we would consider the standard antisocial personality. What makes him even more dangerous is that he seems to be able to control or channel his feelings of aggression when he feels it necessary.

“As with other sociopaths, Henry showed only a token ability to empathize with other people’s feelings on any level. Obviously Henry showed narcissistic traits that the world revolved around him, but I doubt he could be considered legally or medically insane. He knows right from wrong. In fact, I believe he took pleasure in the fact he felt no compassion for anybody or anything.

“His psyche is made up of many personality disorders, borderline personality, narcissistic personality, and histrionic personality. For him to endure his early years, he pieced together a bizarre psyche.”

Jackson blew out a breath. “Why do you think—if it is this Henry DeNair—he’s doing it?”

“If it is Henry, he likes to play games. He wants the attention without getting caught. The thrill of stumping law enforcement, the questions in the papers, the distraught families. He always seemed to take his thrills in another’s pain.

“Henry hated his mother and held deep resentment for his aunt. In some of his fantasies he fantasized about his cousin, Maureen, dying in front of his aunt. He described holding his aunt back and her crying, begging. He wanted power over life and death, and his aunt knew it—at least in his fantasies she did. He imagined her begging for forgiveness, and he would laugh. He gained sexual pleasure from the scenario.”

Thorpe and Jackson exchanged looks. Without question, Henry DeNair was at the top of their list. Dr. Lewis paused for a moment. He collected himself, but tension ruled his voice.

Dr. Lewis inhaled. “Henry haunts me. His words still echo in my mind. I taped most of my sessions. I kept this particular one. It disturbed me. Listen.” He bent over his desk and hit a button. The tape scratched, but the words resonated throughout the room.

Eerie laughter began the session followed by silence. A few moments later, a voice—Henry’s. “I have been offered keys to a kingdom, Doc. To have the ability to get whatever I desire. What do you think?”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Henry.”

“Yes, you do, Doc. Revenge; to enact and obtain the perfect revenge. No one will waste their pathetic stares on me anymore. Power, Doc. I have power.”

“You won’t go there, Doc.” Henry sounded arrogant, confident. “You have a family. You love your family, love your children? Do you want to see my power?”

Dr. Lewis turned off the tape player. He sat back in his chair. “Henry looked intently into my eyes. His eyes, I’ve never seen such hatred, evil. I’m ashamed to admit it, gentlemen, but he scared me. I have never been as scared in my life. I know what I’m about to say will sound like I’m the crazy one, but do you believe in demons, that they can possess a human soul?”

Thorpe leaned forward. “Why do you ask?”

Dr. Lewis stood and walked around the back of his chair. He gazed out the window, his back turned away from the officers.

“I was fully prepared to report him as a threat to himself and others, until that night….” Dr. Lewis felt the back of his neck. Jackson noticed a red mark there. He couldn’t make out what it was.

Within two hours, Jackson and Thorpe stood in the middle of what had been the residence of Henry DeNair. The whole of the house empty, totally empty. In a matter of days, DeNair had packed up and disappeared.

“Agent Dunn,” one of the officers said when Jackson came in the front door. “The neighbors say that the day after Christmas a moving company came and loaded up. They were gone by nightfall.”

“Find out which company they used and where they went!” Jackson yelled more at himself for having come so close, only to find Henry gone. “Damn!”

Thorpe shook his head. “This isn’t good, Jackson. This guy is one step ahead of us. Look at this place. He probably hired a cleaning crew. The place is totally wiped down.”

“I wonder where he’s gone? There has to be a trail. We just have to find it.”

Thorpe stood in the middle of huge open foyer, silent.

* * * *

Thorpe sat at his office desk. No one bothered him, not wanting to deal with his mood. He talked on the phone with Jackson. The FBI had put an APB out on Henry DeNair, no solid leads as yet. Thorpe comprehended that with his guy’s money he could well be anywhere in the world by this point.

“The trail led to an auction house in Boston. DeNair requested them to sell all his belongings. He stated that he wanted to travel, that he wouldn’t be coming back. The auction house was thrilled with the opportunity, to say the least. DeNair informed them that the furniture had not been used for a long time and needed cleaning up. Seemed he didn’t want to be embarrassed by their appearance,” Jackson told Thorpe.

“They didn’t think it strange to auction a whole house full of furniture?” Thorpe complained. “I don’t understand why he even took the time. If he knew we were on his tail, why did he take the time?”

“Chain of evidence, I assume,” Jackson said. “Some of the furniture had been cleaned, but there was too much to have it all done. But now if we find any evidence, there’d be a question of where it came from. There was also another problem. Turns out DeNair rented a Uhaul that he’s never returned. It’s my guess everything he wanted to keep is in there. We’re now in the process of doing a background search. Interviewing anyone and everyone that had contact with him. He’s a Harvard grad and a former medical sales representative. He knows the medical field. He also has an obsession with boats. It’s going slower than we hoped, but something will turn up.”

Thorpe tapped his pen against his desk as he listened. His mind raced. Details gnawed at him. Time worked against them if they hoped to stop DeNair before he inflicted more harm. He clicked his cell phone shut, his only hope that Jackson had been correct, but he couldn’t shake this feeling that something inauspicious threatened in the wings.

Chapter Fourteen

Ramona Damsun sat across from her supervisor in the lab’s conference room. The chair felt hard against her back. Never ending problems kept arising since her promotion to lead tech. Peggy Lopez had brought in the lab manager, Mary O’Donovan. Ramona took a deep breath, once again placed in the situation of defending herself, her actions. Her nerves shot. The constant barrage had worn on her, every situation, every decision.

“Ramona, I asked you to write up the report on the Thomas specimen, did I not?” Lopez sniped.

“I believe I did just that. It should be complete. Was there something wrong with it?” Ramona asked, undaunted. She refused to give an inch.

“Ramona, you’re going to have to rewrite this. It isn’t acceptable. You summarized a conclusion. You were only supposed to provide facts of what happened. This can’t be placed in the file.” Lopez flung down papers in front of her. “This isn’t the first time. I’ve continued to try to explain to you this isn’t acceptable. This time I’ve written up a verbal warning against this happening again.”

“Peggy, wait just a minute. You can’t do this. You’re trying to write me up for doing my job?” Ramona’s eyes widened. “I did write down just the facts. The time the first specimen came down; the time it was called back. Two hours later, the next specimen, the hematocrit, dropped in half. I called and gave the verbal results and asked for a redraw to confirm. They sent down another, and the hematocrit had dropped further. It wasn’t compatible with life. They weren’t calling for blood. I had already checked with Blood Bank. They’d given the last unit set up four hours previous. I asked them if they wanted a cooler and the blood sent up even though it wasn’t our responsibility to do so. I was extremely concerned with patient care. The nurse responded that the patient was going to CAT scan. The patient had a hematocrit of seven and she didn’t want any blood.”

“I’m not signing anything. There’s only one reason you want me to change it. I won’t be a party to a cover up.” Ramona stood up. Her eyes bored into her supervisor’s. “And if you feel the need to talk with me, next time I want a member of human resources to attend.”

“Ramona, that’s enough. You can go now.” Lopez flipped her a back hand, dismissing her.

Her anger flared. Ramona walked toward the door. She heard the manager, Donovan.

“I thought you had all your details straight. What a mess. We need to talk.” Donovan whispered to Lopez as Ramona walked out the door.

Ramona grimaced. Donovan saw through Lopez, but Ramona understood fully that fact wouldn’t help her. She hesitated to go back to the lab. A voice called to her from behind. Hazel Miller, one of the section leaders from across the street.

“Bad?”

Ramona nodded. “Keep telling me why I work here. Patient care only if it doesn’t interfere with politics of the hospitals. It might be a lawsuit waiting in the wings. It’s okay to leave a guy over the weekend bleeding, giving him blood to keep up his crit waiting for Monday. Too bad the poor guy bleeds out on a Sunday night. Too much of an inconvenience. They wanted me to take away the results of the previous days to compare with.”