In The Bleak Midwinter: A Special Agent Constance Mandalay Novel (38 page)

However, even with the severe marring and
excessive blood, the features were intact and distinct. The image
of a mug shot filled Constance’s already overtaxed brain.

After a prolonged hush, with the petite
federal agent motionless and staring at the severed head, Skip
cleared his throat.

“Recognize him at all?” he finally asked.

A heartbeat later Constance replied, her
voice flat and soft but clearly audible in the still basement.
“It’s John Horace Colson…”

“Yeah,” Skip grunted. “The sonofabitch hasn’t
changed a bit. Not bad for a guy that’s been dead for thirty-five
years.”

C
HAPTER
29

7:53 P.M. – December 25, 2010

Highland County Regional Hospital

Psychiatric Wing

Mais – Northern Missouri

TWINKLING
lights chased each other in
a tightening upward spiral with ever-increasing speed, dancing
briefly on the tips of lightly flocked green plastic branches. The
miniature glimmers of color reflected wildly from glass ornaments
that dangled as shiny obstacles in their paths. Finally, the racing
points of brilliance reached an ornate silver-trimmed starburst at
the top, and its own hidden cluster of tiny bulbs sprang to life in
a radiating display of commercialized holiday cheer.

Constance quietly watched the flickering
decorations on the Christmas tree as the strands of lights rolled
through a half-dozen differing patterns before going dark for a
moment and then starting the sequence from the beginning once
again. As the chase began anew, she turned her face away from the
animated distraction, lazily uncrossed her legs, and then leaned
forward in the molded plastic waiting room chair. She pursed her
lips then arched them into a hard frown as she hunched over and
rested her forearms atop her knees. Staring downward, she thumbed a
button to illuminate the screen of the cell phone she held cradled
in her hands. She’d been sitting here waiting for almost
twenty-five minutes now. Any other time she would already be well
on her way to annoyed, but not this evening. She was willing to
wait as long as necessary.

Somewhat more than twelve hours ago, sleep
had finally come screaming at her with the throttle wide open and
no brakes to speak of. She had seen it coming and her only course
of action at that point had been to brace herself and let it
happen, so that was exactly what she did. No sooner had she
returned to her motel room from the crime scene than the exhaustion
struck head on and the pillow came rushing into her face like a
deploying airbag. Fortunately, she had just enough time to extract
herself from the Kevlar and get undressed before impact.

After that she didn’t remember much of
anything. All she knew was that according to the clock, she had
spent slightly more than nine hours horizontal and for a change,
she’d been blissfully unconscious and devoid of the terrors that
had been plaguing her previous attempts at sleep. Beneficial as
that was, it still simply wasn’t enough. While the restful slumber
had definitely taken the edge off, she needed much more.

Unfortunately, she was well aware that more
sleep wouldn’t fix the other problem at hand. She could have sacked
out for three days straight and still would have awakened to the
realization that none of what had transpired in the early hours of
the morning was a dream. It was most definitely a nightmare—of that
much she was certain—but it wasn’t the kind that went away when you
opened your eyes. That point was driven firmly home when she awoke
to find a text message impatiently waiting on her chirping cell
phone.

And now, here she was in Mais, hoping to fit
a few more pieces of the puzzle into place.

She yawned, then allowed herself a tired sigh
and closed her eyes. Even though she kept herself in excellent
shape, she had dealt out some serious self-abuse over the past few
days. On top of that, no matter how much training you did, you
could never truly prepare your body for what a serious dose of
adrenalin and a sudden fight would do to cold, stiff muscles. She
had felt those effects the moment she rolled out of the bed, and
she knew she’d be paying the price for at least another day or so.
She didn’t think there was any serious damage, but she was
definitely sore, wearing a couple of new bruises, and had aches on
top of aches. She was fairly certain that meant the pains were
procreating. However, she had dulled them as best she could with a
pair of ibuprofen caplets and would take some time to whine about
it later. Right now, she was chasing answers—or so she hoped. The
way things had been working out since this all started, she
wouldn’t be at all surprised to find that she was really chasing
yet another impossible question.

Constance fluttered her eyes open and saw
that the cell phone screen had timed out, winking itself into
dormant darkness. She thumbed a random button to wake it up. She
had been waiting almost a full half-hour now. No big deal. She had
time.

She scrolled to the text folder then pulled
the message back into view and read it for the thousandth time.
Then she read it again just for good measure.

It hadn’t disappeared, and it hadn’t
changed—not that she expected it would, but in a way she wished it
had. Something of that sort happening would be much easier to
fathom than most anything else regarding this case so far.

Across the room there finally came a sharp
click, followed by the whooshing sound of a door. Constance looked
up expecting the nurse, but was greeted instead by a new face.

“Good
,” she thought. Though
unexpected, it was exactly what she wanted. She slipped the cell
phone into the pocket of her coat on the chair next to her and
stood.

“Good evening,” the man said as he
approached. “I’m Doctor Poe.”

His voice was cautious, as was his
expression. However, there was a hint of curiosity showing in his
eyes. Constance reached into her blazer and withdrew her badge
case, displaying it with an easy flip of her wrist as she returned,
“Special Agent Mandalay, Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

Doctor Poe settled a pair of readers onto the
end of his nose and inspected the credentials, then gave her a nod
as he returned his gaze to her face. “I was told you want to speak
with a patient?”

“Yes, Doctor,” she replied, stowing the
leather badge case back inside the folds of her jacket. “Edgar
Virgil Reese. I’m given to understand he checked himself into this
facility for observation yesterday afternoon.”

“Well, I’m afraid that it goes against policy
to allow visitors during a seventy-two hour observation period, not
to mention that it’s rather late…”

“I understand that,” she said, cutting him
off. “The nurse already told me the same thing.”

“Good, then you are aware of our policy.”

“Yes, Doctor, I’m well aware, but as I told
her, I can’t accept that.”

“She was just doing her job, Miz
Mandalay.”

“Special Agent
Mandalay, Doctor,” she
corrected. “And I understand her position. That is why I’m now
talking to you instead.”

He nodded and replied with a guarded, “I
see.”

Constance couldn’t help but think about the
fact that if Ben were here he would be cracking a joke about the
psychiatrist’s stereotypical choice of words. She’d heard the
detective rib his own sister over such things. Fortunately, Helen
Storm was very good-humored where that was concerned. Something
told her, however, that Doctor Poe didn’t share that trait.

This wasn’t her first go around with someone
like him. She suspected that he was already profiling her as an
insecure woman who was overcompensating because of her rampant
penis envy. She’d been told something very similar once before by a
psychiatrist who had stood between her and the resolution of a
case. He hadn’t stood there much longer after that.

But right now she didn’t care. Doctor Poe
could think whatever he wanted. The truth is, she had already
profiled him as a mid-level administrator with a God complex, so
technically they were even.

He fell silent and simply stared at her on
the heels of his two-word commentary, seemingly sure that he had
the upper hand. Constance mirrored his gaze and kept her own mouth
shut. She had played this version of chicken before and with people
far better at it than him. Psychiatrist or not, he was actually the
one at a disadvantage in this stare-down test of wills. She had
paid close attention to his face when she’d flashed her badge.
Federal credentials almost always made people nervous, even when
they were innocent, and he was no exception to that rule. He may
not realize it yet, but he had already blinked before they ever
started.

Silence filled the waiting room as an unseen
second hand swept around a figurative clock. A minute passed, then
a minute plus one-half. It never made it as far as two.

Doctor Poe shifted in place then cleared his
throat and followed with a nervous-sounding cough. “May I ask why
you want to speak with Mister Reese, Special Agent Mandalay?”

“It’s simply part of an ongoing
investigation,” she replied.

“Is he a suspect in this investigation?”

“More like a person of interest.”

The doctor seemed unsatisfied with the
answer. “I need to know if he poses a danger to the other
patients.”

“Wouldn’t you be the one to answer that
question?” she replied.

He appeared to ponder her return quip for a
moment, then began to object, “Special Agent Mand–”

Before he could finish, Constance
interjected, “I just want to ask him some questions, Doctor, that’s
all.”

“Mister Reese is here for a seventy-two hour
observation and evaluation.”

He regurgitated the same line she’d already
heard a dozen times since her arrival here. Obviously he wasn’t
going to easily give up his attempt to stonewall.

“Voluntary,” Constance added. “You and I both
know that the Missouri revised statutes guarantee him the right to
visitors unless you have good cause to deny such. Do you?”

“I believe it also states,
at reasonable
times
,” he added.

“Hospital visiting hours don’t end until
nine, Doctor,” she replied. “It’s only eight.”

“Those are general hours. The psychiatric
wing hours end at eight.”

“I was here at seven-fifteen and you kept me
waiting,” she countered.

“I’m very busy.”

“I’m sure, as am I.” Constance nodded then
tried to relax her posture slightly, making a slightly conciliatory
appeal. “Listen, Doctor Poe, I understand your situation, not to
mention that it’s Christmas. Believe me, I’ve been away from home
since the twenty-second. I’d rather not be here either, but with a
little cooperation this can be relatively painless.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, shaking his head.
“Visiting hours are still at our discretion.”

“This is official, Doctor.”

“My hands are tied, Special Agent.”

“Okay, then,” Constance huffed as she reached
down and retrieved her cell phone from her coat pocket. “Let me see
if I can untie them for you. I’ll make a call and get a court
order.”

“If you could do that you would have already
had a court order in hand,” he rebuked.

She replied, “Do you really want to take that
chance?”

He stared at her again, and she held his
gaze, thumb hovering over the keypad of the cell. Finally, she
keyed in a speed dial code and placed the device up to her ear.
After a trio of rings it was answered at the other end.

“Yes, SSA Greene, this is Mandalay… Yes sir,
Merry Christmas to you too… Yes, sir… Yes, that’s where I am right
now, and it’s actually why I’m calling. I’m very sorry to be
bothering you at home, but I’m meeting some resistance from Doctor
Poe here at the hospital. Yes, sir… Yes, exactly… Yes, I think we
might need to obtain a court order… Yes, sir… Yes, I’ve tried… Yes,
sir, I know… All right, just a second…”

She lowered the cell for a moment. “What is
your full name, Doctor Poe? The judge is going to want it for the
warrant.”

“Wh-wh-why my name?”

“It’s just procedure,” she told him. “We like
to have a paper trail in case there are any significant turns in
the investigation, you understand.”

Doctor Poe quickly waved his hands and
instead of answering said, “Slow down… Just… Let’s back up…”

Constance raised an eyebrow then pushed the
phone back up to her ear and said, “I’m sorry, sir, could you hold
for another minute? Thanks…”

She lowered the device again and stared
questioningly back at the doctor.

He huffed out an exasperated sigh and said,
“We don’t even know if Mister Reese is willing to take a
visitor.”

“Why don’t you start with asking him?” she
said.

He regarded her quietly for a moment before
finally huffing again and all but spitting her title as if it were
poison to his tongue. “All right,
Special Agent
Mandalay,
we’ll do it your way. You don’t need to get a court order. But if
Mister Reese refuses to speak with you, that isn’t my fault.”

“I understand. Thank you,” she replied, then
pressed the phone back to her ear. “I’m sorry about that, sir… No,
it actually appears that I bothered you for nothing. Doctor Poe has
changed his mind. Yes, sir… Yes, sir… I will. You too… And Merry
Christmas to your family… Sorry again for bothering you…
Goodbye.”

Constance thumbed off the phone and breathed
an inner sigh of relief. Given that she’d just carried on a
one-sided conversation with her own answering machine at home, she
was thankful the doctor hadn’t called her bluff.

“Follow me,” Poe said, turning to lead her
toward the door from which he’d entered earlier. “I still want you
to understand that this is highly irregular.”