Everywhere That Tommy Goes (21 page)

“Very well, Detective. You have my attention. Please proceed.”

“Okay, this concerns a patient of yours. . . .”

The doctor interrupted, “I’m sure you’re aware of privilege, Detective.”

“I am, but hear me out.”

“At this point, all I intend to do is listen. Go on, Detective.”

“Understood. This is about Thomas Sullivan.” Stone was examining the pill vial as she spoke. “We know he’s a patient of yours and that he’s involved in one of your migraine studies.”

The doctor rose from his desk, walked to his office door, and closed it. “You’ve got my attention.”

“Thank you,” Stone said, casting a glance at Watts. “As I said, this is regarding Thomas Sullivan. We have him in custody, and he’s a suspect in a number of serious crimes, including kidnapping and homicide.”

“That’s horrible, Detective. I never would have imagined. . . .”

“Yes, Doctor. I don’t doubt that, but it’s true. In any event, Mr. Sullivan has been complaining of a severe headache, and he’s asked for his pills . . . which is why I tracked you down.”

“I’m listening.”

“Well, my first concern is whether I should give him his medication.”

“Okay, Detective. At the risk of breaking privilege, is there any reason why you feel you shouldn’t give him his medication?”

“As a matter of fact, there is. You see, I’ve counted out the number of pills he’s taken since the prescription was refilled two days ago.”

“Your point?”

“Based upon the instructions on the label, it appears that he may have taken quite a few more pills than directed. The label says ‘Contents: ninety pills,’ and the dosage says ‘Two every twelve hours.’”

“And?” Dr. Diamond said, growing impatient.

“There’s only seventy pills here, Doctor. Which means he’s overdosing big-time.”

Alarmed, the doctor quickly changed his tone. “I see.”

“My question to you, then: Have any of your patients experienced side effects from the administration of large doses of the drug?”

Dr. Diamond thought for a moment and sat down in his chair before answering. “Now we’re treading on thin ice. You see, this is a very important study. I’ve been working on this for quite some time. I have a lot invested here, both in time and money. And if this drug continues to perform as our initial results indicate, we may be on the verge of a breakthrough. If you’re suggesting that a large dose may be responsible for causing someone to engage in violent criminal activity, I would have to say no, and then I would have to end this conversation right here.”

“I’m not suggesting anything, Doctor; I’m just trying to gather some information. As I said before, there may be a life at stake. I simply want to know whether, in the course of your study, any of your patients have exhibited behaviors that seem . . . uh . . . let’s say . . . violent or erratic.”

“No, Detective. I assure you that we have not observed reactions like that. Our study focuses on the type of pain the patient is suffering, the frequency, the medications they tried in the past, and the success of those efforts.”

“Still, Doctor,” Stone continued, “you prescribed a certain dosage based upon something. Why limit it to two pills every twelve hours?”

“The dosage varies among our test subjects. That is part of our study. Some are given more, some less, in an effort to determine the most adequate dosage.”

“Okay, then, let’s talk in generalities. Of the subjects who have been given higher doses, have you seen any indications of abnormal or aggressive behavior?”

“I’m sorry, but disclosing our findings at this stage is premature.” Dr. Diamond was pacing now and becoming concerned that perhaps a critical angle of inquiry may have been overlooked in the study.

“You’re being evasive, Doctor, and that won’t help either of us.” Stone hardened her tone. “You must know that given sufficient time we’ll get a court order and compel you to disclose the information we seek, and that may completely undermine your study. If you work with us, we’ll keep things quiet and let you continue your research. We certainly don’t want to ruin legitimate efforts to find a cure for migraines.”

“Sounds like you’re strong-arming me, Detective.”

“No, just giving you the facts as I see them.”

Dr. Diamond swallowed. “You’re putting me in quite a predicament here. I don’t want to compromise a patient’s confidentiality, but at the same time, you have no idea of the magnitude of this study.” He picked up a wire-stick figure of a doctor that had been collecting dust on his desk for the past fifteen years. On the base was an inscription that read, “World’s Greatest Doctor.” It had been made by his son when he was nine years old. Diamond began to wonder if he would regret the next thing he said. “Detective, what I
can
tell you is that I have not seen results in any of our test subjects so far that would indicate a propensity toward violence or other abnormal manifestations.”

“I get it. One more question and I’ll let you go for now. As relates to Thomas Sullivan, can you tell me if any of his results have caught your attention?”

“Answering that question puts us on a slippery slope, Detective. I have to be careful about privilege, you know, but I do want to help, so I will say this off the record. Sullivan has responded well to the therapy, and the drug seems to be working for him. When I last saw him, he thanked me and said no other medicine had ever stopped the pain like this one.”

“Fair enough. So would it be your recommendation to give him the pills he’s been asking for?”

“That depends. First, I would ask him when he took his last dose. If it was more than twelve hours ago, it should be safe to give him two, but monitor his behavior and let me know if you notice anything strange.”

“Okay, Doctor. I’ll be in touch.”

Dr. Diamond hung up the phone, immediately pulled open the file cabinet behind his desk, and thumbed through it. In seconds, he found the file he had been looking for, ripped it open, and madly flipped through the pages. Reading from the notes: “Patient number forty-one reports a series of blackouts during which he cannot account for his time or his actions.” Turning back to the first page, he focused on the dosage—four pills every six hours. More concerned, he went back to the file cabinet, pulled out another file, and read the patient’s report: “Patient number seventy-seven reports that he woke up in his car with no memory of how he got there. Hours were unaccounted for and the last thing he remembered was lying in bed with an agonizing headache.” Dr. Diamond checked the dosage—four pills every four hours.

The doctor stuffed the files back in the cabinet and slammed the drawer shut. He knew there were others, but at that moment, he didn’t have the stomach to continue.

CHAPTER 63

I look up as the door to the room opens, and in walks the cop from Cape May.

“Remember me, Mr. Sullivan?” she asks, with this smart-ass grin.

“How could I forget?”

“I told you we’d be seeing each other again.”

“Yeah, so what of it?”

“You’re in quite a bit of trouble here, Thomas. I wouldn’t be so nonchalant if I were you.”

“Look, I’m not being that. I’m just in a lot of pain right now. My head is killing me. I asked that other cop to get me my pills from the car. I hope you have them because otherwise I’m gonna say you cops are torturing me. Speaking of which, aren’t you supposed to be getting me a lawyer or something?”

“A lawyer is being arranged, and I have your pills, as well. I just need to ask you a few questions first.”

“I already answered the questions. Isn’t that enough for you? I mean, come on. My head feels like someone hit me with a baseball bat. I can’t even think straight.”

“I’ll make this quick, then. When was the last time you took these pills?”

“What difference does it make? Just give me four. Then, when my headache goes away, I may feel like talking again.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that just yet. It would be improper. You see, the dosage on the bottle says two every twelve hours, and I wouldn’t want to be responsible for an overdose.”

“Come on. I haven’t taken any pills since yesterday, and two don’t work; I need four. I always take four.”

“As long as you agree to answer my questions when you’re feeling better.”

She has me by the short hairs and my head’s killing me, so at this point, I’ll say anything. “All right, gimme my meds and let me rest for a bit. Then I’ll answer your questions.”

“Very well, Thomas.” She shakes the pills out of the bottle and places them in my mouth.

I swallow them dry. “Any chance you can take off these handcuffs?” I ask, pulling at them.

“Not at this time. I’ll be back in forty-five minutes. Meanwhile, get some rest.”

“Yeah, right. You got a pillow?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

*   *   *

I wake up to the sound of the door opening. In walks Detective Stone.

“Are you ready to talk, Thomas?” she asks, all sweet and shit.

“I suppose.”

“Okay, let’s start with the night Jamie Houston disappeared. You told Captain Parker that you witnessed Troyer Savage cut her throat. I want you to know we also have your computer, and we know you’ve spent quite a bit of time researching sites related to the Gilgo Beach case. We’ve also found a number of bodies there too.”

“So what? I just happen to be interested in all that. I’m a big
CSI
fan and that case got up my curiosity. Especially because it’s so local.”

“I don’t think you understand, Thomas. We are no longer just looking at you with regard to the disappearance of Jamie Houston, you are now a suspect in connection with the other bodies discovered there.”

“But I didn’t do anything.”

“That’s not what the evidence is telling us. Oh, I forgot to mention that the police in Seaview found a soiled white undershirt of yours in the dumpster behind the Mobil station where your car was repaired. There’s blood on it that matches the girl who was murdered in your room at the motel. It’s time to come clean and admit what you’ve done. Save us the trouble of a trial and the embarrassment it will cause you.”

My heart’s racing, and my mouth goes dry. “Hey, this is crazy, I didn’t do any of this. It’s all a huge mistake. I don’t know anything about bodies at Gilgo Beach. All I can say is that Troyer Savage is the one responsible for the bartender and the girl at the motel.”

“Well, if that’s true, then you need to help us find him. Until then, you’re our prime suspect. The fact is, everything points directly to you, and the evidence is overwhelming. Oh, and we haven’t even gotten to the latest crime. Kidnapping the motel clerk from the Jervis Lodge was not your smartest move.”

“That wasn’t me either. I told Parker that before.”

“Come on, Thomas. You lifted her out of the trunk and dropped her. She also heard you call out Troyer’s name. She can identify your voice. We’re putting together a voice lineup right now. In a few minutes you’ll be brought in to be identified.”

It takes some acting, but I say, “Fine. You do that. I’m not worried. There’s no way she’ll be able to identify me.”

“If you say so, Thomas,” she laughs, “but I’m not finished yet. We found Aurora Storm at Camp Lakewood. We also know that you took a canoe from Lakewood and paddled across to Seneca, where we caught you.”

“You found Aurora! Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, Thomas. But it makes me wonder: What were you doing at Camp Lakewood?”

“Like I told the other cop, Troyer kidnapped Aurora to stop me from ratting him out. I convinced him that I wouldn’t, so he agreed to let her go. He took me to Lakewood to get her, and when we got to the shack, we saw that she escaped. Troyer freaked out and took off. I started looking for her, but when I saw lights flickering in the bunks, I got scared. I panicked and ran.”

“Well, if you didn’t do anything wrong, why did you run?”

“Are you kidding me? You just rattled off enough shit to bury me for the rest of my life. The only way I’m getting out of this predicament is if you can find Troyer. You’ve got to help me. I swear I’m not responsible for any of this. Troyer is framing me. You’ve got to believe me.”

“I’m not saying I don’t, Thomas, so help us catch him. Where do you think he’d go?”

“I haven’t got a clue. The dude ran off like a bat outta hell when he saw that Aurora escaped from the shack. He has to be somewhere nearby the camp.”

“For your sake, I hope you’re right. We have a lot of men searching the area, and Captain Parker just dispatched another six officers to join in. If he’s out there, we will find him.”

CHAPTER 64

After leaving Sullivan, Stone joined Watts and Parker in the viewing room.

“First you give him four pills, Stone,” Watts yelled, incredulously. “Then you continue to question him without his lawyer. What are you trying to do?”

“Cut me some slack. He’s in handcuffs; he can’t do anything. And he waived his rights. We have it all on tape.”

“Yeah, but what if he strokes out?”

“Come on. They’re only headache pills. That won’t happen.”

Watts looked Stone in the eyes. “And you know we can’t back any of the crap you said about the murder in Seaview or the Carbone girl.”

“We know that,” Stone answered, “but he doesn’t.”

“Your partner’s right,” Parker said. “That bluff won’t hold up after Sullivan gets his lawyer.”

“I realize that, so delay his counsel for now. There’s no reason why we need to provide him with an attorney at this late hour.”

Parker placed both hands behind his head and squeezed his neck uncomfortably. “Detective, I can only do this for so long. I run a clean precinct, and the law is the law. Where are you going with all this?”

“I need some time. I want to observe him for the next few hours and see what the pills do.” Watts pulled Parker aside. “Captain, we understand your position. Just give us until morning. You’ve got to trust her instincts. She’s one of the best cops I’ve ever worked with.”

Parker thought briefly, then turned back to Stone. “You have until morning. After that, I have to give him his lawyer.”

Watts sat with Stone in the viewing room for three hours and watched as Sullivan alternated between consciousness and sleep, sometimes staring directly into the mirror. Finally, Stone rose and made her way into the interrogation room.