Fragmented (21 page)

He jerked her wounded body up with one yank.
“Get up, you goddamn fuckin’ bitch.”

She struggled against him as he dragged her across the floor to the wall. He forcibly seized her arms. She heard clinking of metal. Through her fear
, she could see shackles in his hands. She squirmed, twisted, and screamed again. She was no match for his strength. He restrained one arm with a click of metal. Her arm ached. He brutally pulled her other arm across the wall.

“
Why, Cameron? I had everything worked out. Everything, until you screwed it up!” His hand rubbed her hair. “I wanted to take care of you. Never to have to worry again. Now you’re going to have to pay.”

“
No,” she cried to deaf ears. Her words echoed in her musty dungeon. He stepped back. Her cries broke into sobs. “No, Greg…no.”

“
You’re going to have to live with Matthew’s death. It was your fault. He wasn’t on my list. He wouldn’t let it go,” he mumbled. He cracked the whip against the floor. She jumped. Her legs trembled. Tears flowed down her face. “He had hurt you, though. He didn’t deserve you, but you’re supposed to take care of me. We’re a family. Cameron, you know you can’t break up a family. You were trying to break up our family. You can’t do that. Ask Matthew.”

A silence ensued, a frightening silence.
“There’s nothing I can do about this,” he rambled. “You have to be punished.”

He whipped back his weapon.
A pain seared throughout her body as he unleashed another lash. One more crack of the whip became another searing mark. She pulled her knees against the wall, trying desperately to loosen the hold, but it was no use. The sound again swept into the air. Her body tensed as it prepared for another blow. She cried, “Greg. It’s me, Cameron. Greg, for God’s sake!”

Another lash, another gripping, excruciating pain scorched her back.

“Greg, help me. Oh, God, help me. Greg, it’s me, Cameron,” she cried before the next blow landed again on its mark…over and over again.

Brophy stood staring through the two-way mirror. Karl Neslund sat, calmly waiting for him. Brophy intended to make him wait as long as he could. His head was still pounding. Centrello suggested heartily that Brophy should go home. Neither took it as a serious suggestion. He wasn't leaving.

Brophy leaned against the wall. He had finished questioning Zach Quinn, and had sent the boy home. He had gotten someone to drive him, though. The boy was pretty shaken up, as one could imagine.

Zach had barged into the apartment. He had seen the rampage—the eruption of a psycho’s mind. Zach’s call to Kennedy had confirmed their worst fears: that Cameron had been in the apartment.

After entering the apartment, Brophy first hoped against hope
that the girl had gotten away. She wasn’t there. Fifteen minutes. Brophy calculated the time that she disappeared before the apartment had been surrounded. Missed her by fifteen minutes!

The knowledge that they had identified the serial killer, Greg Mobley, was of little comfort. They lost the girl, the bait they had used to flush him out. And if they
didn’t find the girl alive, they all would have to live with that.

All the information needed to identify Mobley had come in a flurry. Dr. Levy had received an email from a Dr. Schafer, which had been of interest, especially after he emailed the only picture he had of his patient, a Raymond Duffy
, the patient he had suspected of killings in Virginia three years earlier. It was Greg Mobley.

Brophy had already
begun to piece together the motive for the killings…the stalking of Cameron. The FBI took a closer look at the artist, Greg Mobley. They found a man of different faces. They discovered a loft where he kept paintings, disturbing paintings…and a computer lab, a lab that would have been quite expensive. The FBI had an expert forensic accountant looking into his financial background.

They also discovered a stash of different drugs including
Rohypnol, GHB, and other benzodiazepines,
which they suspected Mobley used to drug Zach and his friend the night in question.

Brophy wondered what awaited Cameron from this psycho. Would he think she betrayed him
? Why the hell did the girl run? Women! He had a sinking feeling from the start of Dunn’s plan that this was going to happen.

The fresh blood they had found at the crime scene was determined to have come from two different individuals.
 Cameron had to have been injured. They had no witnesses to the attack. One neighbor saw Greg driving off in his car, a four-door Camry sedan. No one had seen Cameron. Brophy had no doubts Greg had already dumped the car. The question lay with what he had done with the girl. He took a deep breath in. He was ready for Mr. Neslund.

* * * *

“Mr. Neslund, before I begin, do you want anything? A drink? Food?” Brophy began. He pulled out the chair across from Karl and sat down. Karl shook his head. Brophy nodded and continued. “You realize why we’re here. Correct?”

“
Yes,” Karl replied calmly. “You are investigating my roommate and friend, Greg Mobley, as a suspect in a murder case, and the disappearance of my other roommate, Cameron Quinn.

“
First, let me state for the record, I'm being fully cooperative. I do not want a lawyer here. My first and only concern is getting Cameron back safely. I can’t believe Greg would ever do such a thing. In all honesty, it is beyond belief he would harm Cameron, or anyone for that matter.”

Brophy noted his calm, contained manner. Odd, given everything that had gone down. Brophy nodded and scuffled a few papers around. He looked back up at Karl.
“But of course, you didn’t notice anything peculiar with your roommate’s behavior, or you would have informed us before now. We appreciate your effort here, sir. I can assure you that is one of our utmost concerns.” He paused for a moment. “You are aware that we are videoing this interview.”

Karl shrugged.
“As I said before, anything to help out.”

“
That’s good. Real good, Mr. Neslund.” Brophy paused. “So your contention is that you had no clue…idea…or inkling, that Greg Mobley could be the serial killer?”

“
None whatsoever. I wish I had.”

“
Isn’t he your best friend and roommate, Mr. Neslund? And you want me to believe you had no knowledge of his actions?”

“
No, I didn’t. Look, Detective, I’ve known Greg a long time, since eighth grade. He has always been a quiet guy. He was only in town a couple of years before he moved away. We kept up with each other occasionally over the Internet, but it wasn’t until he moved back to Boston that I saw him again. He needed a friend.”

“
Did you know his parents well?”

“
No. His parents died before he moved to Hull. He lived with his aunt, who has also died. I don’t think he has anyone—family, I mean.”

“
What has been his relationship with Cameron Quinn?”

For the first time
, Karl hesitated slightly. “I’ve always known Greg was a little strange at times. He’s quirky. I’ll admit that, but let me get this straight, I had no idea that he was capable of murder. Yes, he had an obsession with Cameron. Always did, from the moment he met her.”

“
In what way?”

“
Not sexual, if that's what you’re insinuating. Cameron was the first girl who was nice to him, talked to him. Didn’t make fun of him. Here is this pretty, popular girl talking to you, not caring what other people thought or said. I’m sure there were plenty of times she stood up for him. Cameron always had the idea she could change the world. So I believe it was natural that he reacted the way he did to Cameron.”

“
But you, all three of you, were strictly platonic friends. Nothing that could have sparked this behavior?”

“
Strictly platonic. Although, if it hadn’t been for Greg, I would have probably made a move on Cameron. Wouldn’t have been human living in such close contact with her, if I hadn’t at least thought about it.”

“
Why would it have bothered Greg?”

Karl gave a forced laugh.
“In high school, neither Greg nor I were what you would have considered popular. We were the nerds. It wasn’t until I was in college that things changed for me. Being smart in college was different than in high school for me. I started working out and well, let’s put it this way—I haven’t had any problems in that department.”

“
Your undergrad studies. Where?”

“
Dartmouth College, Hanover, New Hampshire. Majored in English, top three percent of my class. I graduated Harvard Law last spring, top five percent.”

“
Impressive, I’m sure,” Brophy said dryly. “Back to Greg and Cameron.”

“
I ran into Cameron after I started at Harvard. It was just about the time of her break-up from old Matthew. She wasn’t going through a good time. She was looking for a roommate because he had left her high and dry as soon as Mommy called. With all his money, he left her with the lease. Unbelievable, but it all worked out.”

“
How did Greg get into the picture?”

“
Greg and I had always kept in touch. He was coming to Massachusetts College of Art and Design. Honestly, the whole situation seemed heaven-sent.”

“
So you have maintained close contact with Greg since junior high?” Brophy eyed Karl carefully. The guy was holding back.

“
I suppose so. I mean, maybe I should have picked up on his behavior, but maybe I was too close to the situation. He was always so protective of Cameron.”

“
You were saying about your relationship with Cameron? Why didn’t you take it further? You just don’t strike me as the type who stands on moral ground.”

Karl leaned onto the table
, as if in an intimate conversation. “The night Dr. Halliday got married, Cameron was in bad shape. We were sitting on the couch. She was depressed. I tried to comfort her. I kissed her and Greg walked in. It was a big scene.”

“
Why? Why would that bother him, Mr. Neslund?”

“
How am I supposed to know?” He flung his arms down and sat back into his chair. “Maybe…maybe he thought I was no good for her. He said I wouldn’t know what a real relationship was if it hit me in the face. That I was taking advantage of the situation. She didn’t need it. Cameron didn’t need me complicating things. It came to blows. Cameron stormed off. The next morning, without a doubt, Greg had been right. It would have ruined a great friendship.”

Brophy made a note. Then he looked back up at him.
“I’m not sure if I get where you’re trying to go with this.”

“
I don’t know if I can spell it out any clearer for you, Detective. He looked at her as a sister, or maybe a mother of sorts. Substitute mother. No kid wants to see his mother make out with someone.”

Brophy sighed. He started to say something
and then hesitated. He began again. “I’m just a little slow here. You never noticed anything unusual in his behavior, and yet you just came off as a psychiatrist. Have you gone to a psychiatrist?”

“
Of course not.”

“
What about Greg?”

Karl rolled his tongue over his teeth. His irritation to being grilled showed. He pushed back from the table.
“You know, I believe I’ve helped as much as I can.”

Brophy didn’t look up as he wrote.
“Sit down, Mr. Neslund. If you want to do this the hard way, I will, but you’re not leaving here without finishing.”

“
I know my rights.”

Brophy scratched the back of his neck.
“Frankly, Mr. Neslund, I don’t give a shit about your rights. There is a young woman whose life hangs by a thread. A man who has already killed four times. I have literally walked out of an emergency room sickbed to find this sick sonofabitch.”

Karl rose. Brophy pushed up off the table with his hands and stood.
“Try me.”

Karl thought for a moment. Then he sat back down.

“So now,” Brophy dropped the notepad down on the table, “the question now stands at not if he went to a psychiatrist, but when and where. Time is ticking, Mr. Neslund.”

* * * *

Darren walked in the observation room as Brophy finished up his interview. He stared intently at Karl. Darren didn’t like the man. Too arrogant…confident. Contrary to his words, the man didn’t seem the least concerned about Cameron.

His roommate, his friend, was in the hands of a madman, and he sat there talking as if about a television show he saw last night, showing no emotion.

Brophy stood, finishing his portion of the interview. Darren walked out into the hall and waited for Brophy. “Did you get anything?”

Brophy breathed out deeply and shook his head.
“A lead to his psychiatrist. Nothing pinpointing where Greg might have taken her, or what he would have done to her.”

Darren grimaced. Then out of the blue, he pushed past Brophy. Brophy grabbed at him, but Darren jerked his arm back free of Brophy. He opened the door and stood face to face with Karl.

“All right, Mr. Neslund. Tell me you don’t know anything. Tell me to my face because I don’t believe a word coming from your fucking mouth.”

“
Temper, temper, Kennedy,” Karl said. “Don’t blame me for your incompetence. You took her from our apartment. You promised to keep her safe. She trusted you. Misplaced trust, wouldn’t you say? Why did she leave you, Kennedy? Shouldn’t you take the responsibility? In a way, you will be totally responsible for her death.”

Darren grabbed him by his shirt collar.
“Why would you insinuate that she’s dead? Do you know, you sonofabitch?”

“
I don’t know, Kennedy. What else would he want with her after everything that happened? You promised to protect her and now look at her. He’s got her. However are you going to live with yourself?”

Karl barely got the last words out, when Darren
took hold of him and threw him across the table into the wall. Darren didn’t relent. He leaped over the table himself. His right fist swung back. Brophy caught his arm midair.

Two uniforms converged in the room. One grabbed Darren and pulled him off Karl.

Karl stood, rubbing his arm. He turned to one of the officers. “You saw that, didn’t you? You saw what your esteemed ADA did.”

Brophy commanded the two
, “Get him out of here, now.”

“
You saw him, right?” Karl demanded of the other officer as he was leaving the room.

“
The only thing I saw was you tripping over a chair. Didn’t see anything else. You’re just clumsy. What about you, Sean?”

“
It’s what I saw.”

Karl roared back at Darren.
“It’s not the last of this, Kennedy. You can rest assured.”

Brophy pushed his arms against Darren, restraining him from attacking the man again. He looked directly at Karl.
“I’m only telling you one more time. Get the hell out of here.”