Ruthless Game (A Captivating Suspense Novel) (28 page)

"You got it."

She let her head fall into her hands for a moment and then pulled herself up. She couldn't be weak. After a deep breath, she looked at Greg. "What now?"

He glanced at the computer screen. "What's that?"

"An article by some doctor—looks like an interview with Androus's sister."

Alex began skimming the article, but her mind was on the gun. It couldn't have been Greg's. Intellectually, she knew that, but she couldn't help but feel a little tremor of fear at the possibility.

The subject had been interviewed at her home in Upshur, West Virginia, on November 1, 1972, as part of the Stanford University Department of Psychology's study of criminal psychology.

Alex skipped the rest of the introduction. Nothing stood out, so she scrolled down to an excerpt from the full interview.

DR. DANIELS: Can you tell us something about your brother, Ms. Androus?

MAGGIE ANDROUS: I don't know much. I left home when I was sixteen. He was only thirteen. He left two years later.

DD: Why did you leave home?

MA: Don't see how that's relevant.

DD: I understand the questions may be difficult. But we need to ask them to help us understand why your brother did what he did.

MA: Oh, I know why he did it. Our father was screwed up. Worked the coal mines down here—drank too much.

DD: Did your father hit you?

MA: On a good night.

The doctor notes that Stanford research has shown a history of familial abuse is a prominent theme in homicides. Androus's family environment fits this pattern.

Alex skimmed over the rest of the discussion on family abuse and kept reading. She thought about Maggie Androus's words, flat and unemotional on the page, imagining her voice when the words had been spoken. Had they been angry and upset and spiteful?

A cop was trained to sense the emotion below the surface. Alex wished she could have heard the tape.

She had started to scroll down again when Greg grabbed her hand. "Slow down. I'm reading." Alex waited until he nodded and moved further down the page.

DD: Did your father sexually abuse you?

MA: (No answer.)

DD: Did your father force you and your brother to perform sexual acts with him?

MA: (No answer.)

DD: How about with each other?

MA: (No answer.)

DD: I know this is difficult, but the information you're providing is going to be pivotal to helping us understand what happened to Walter.

MA: Yes, he did. All of us.

DD: All of you? Can you be more specific?

MA: Me, Walter, and Ben.

DD: Ben?

MA: My brother.

Alex halted, puzzled. Androus had only one sister as far as she knew. Where had the brother come from? The next sentence grabbed her attention and she continued.

"Whoa, slow down. Who's the brother?"

"Shh. I'm trying to find out," Alex said, reading on.

DD: Ms. Androus, we don't have a record of Walter having a brother. Where is he now?

MA: Dead.

DD: When did he die?

MA: Six years ago. In New York. He was eighteen.

DD: How did he die?

MA: Killed himself.

DD: How?

MA: Jesus Christ, have some respect. Does it really matter how he killed himself? He isn't going to help your little project. He's dead.

DD: I apologize, Ms. Androus. Maggie. May I call you Maggie?

MA: (Nod.)

DD: Maggie. I know this is difficult, but it will help us. Understanding how Ben was feeling, how you're feeling, too, will help us with how Walter felt, what led him to do what he did.

MA: Fine. He shot himself—with a .22—our father's .22. I never even knew he had taken it, but I guess he did. Walter confirmed it was Daddy's gun.

DD: Was Ben older or younger than you and Walter?

MA: He was Walter's twin.

"His twin? Holy shit," Greg said, voicing Alex's own reaction.

"B.A.," Alex said.

"What?"

"There was a picture in Loeffler's things—a guy with red hair. On the back were the initials B.A." Alex had read theories on twin behavior in her psych classes. Plus, she'd seen James and Brittany anticipate each other's thoughts and feelings in more intense ways than most siblings. She couldn't believe Ben was still alive and had decided to come finish what his brother had started. It was too Hollywood to be real. But why was his picture in Loeffler's file? If it was his picture? And where was Maggie now? "Ben Androus," Greg said. She looked at him and raised her eyebrows. "Ben Androus is Alfred Ferguson?"

"It's possible, I guess." She thought about the man in the gym. He hadn't had red hair, but that would be easy enough to change. And she hadn't gotten a good look at his face. He'd seemed younger than she would have imagined Androus would be. Androus would have to be almost fifty-five by now. But it was possible. "Did you see his picture?"

"I couldn't get in. James—" He stopped and shook his head. "I know."

She could see him getting angry and he motioned to the screen. "Keep reading."

DD: Who found Ben?

MA: Walter. Walter found him. He hadn't heard from him in a few days. They were very close, Walter and Ben. Ben was living in New York, Walter was in L.A. So he bused out to see him. Then he called me. Ben had been dead awhile, I guess.

DD: How about your mother?

MA: She was a drunk, too. I felt sorry for her. She drank to get away from him.

DD: From your father?

MA: Right.

DD: Did you have any correspondence with your brothers after you left home?

MA: Walter would drop me a note once in a while.

DD: Did you keep his notes?

MA: No. For a while, we kept in good contact. After Ben died, it stopped. Then, about four years ago, we started to write again. But Walter's notes were strange. I barely read them sometimes. He wasn't right—if you know what I mean.

Alex cringed. Obviously he wasn't right. She read on.

DD: What gave you that idea?

MA: He was seeing a doctor and stuff.

DD: Do you remember anything that he told you about the doctor?

MA: Hardly anything. He used to write tons about going to a school out there.

DD: What school? You mean as a student?

MA: Don't remember the name, but he wasn't no student.

DD: How was he going to school?

MA: As a patient.

"Write that down—he was a patient somewhere," Greg directed. Alex nodded and wrote.

DD: Maggie, could you elaborate? What sort of patient way Walter?

MA: I don't remember much now. Said he was going to some special center—being evaluated.

DD: As in mentally evaluated?

MA: I always assumed that's what he meant.

DD: Do you remember anything else about his correspondence?

MA: He used to say weird things.

DD: What sort of things?

MA: Like the power of the mind. He used to say he had to capture the power of the mind. That's what life was all about.

DD: Anything else?

MA: He used to write about a friend named Jay.

DD: Jay? Do you know who that was?

MA: I think it was his doctor.

DD: Can you tell me what specifically made you think that?

MA: Oh, I think he told me that in one of his letters.

Otherwise, I wouldn't have thought it. He used to talk a lot about Jay—Jay this, Jay that, how great Jay was. Always struck me as off.

DD: Why's that?

MA: Our father's name was Jay.

Chapter 22

Alex scrolled down and looked for more interview, but the rest was commentary. She skimmed a bit of it, discussion about Walter's attempt to replace a father figure with a shrink of the same name.

"Fucking weird."

Alex nodded. She typed in NT SEC and scrolled through the hits: Windows NT, the website for the Securities and Exchange Commission, articles about the SEC. Nothing seemed to fit.

"You saw that in his calendar?"

She nodded and continued to search.

"It's probably shorthand for something," Greg said, watching over her shoulder.

Alex blew her breath out in a frustrated stream. "We need someone who has access to the case. Someone who knows if Ben Androus was checked into, if he's really dead. Also, Maggie's whereabouts and who Walter's friends were. Who could have helped him? Maybe we can find his shrink and ask him." She exhaled. "And I want to confirm who was the shooter." She paused.

"Confirm that it was you, you mean."

"Right. Confirm that I shot him." She shook her head. "What a week."

Greg put a hand on her shoulder. "I'd say."

"The Internet isn't going to help with this. We need insider info. And most of the guys who worked this case are going to be retired if not dead."

"I agree. But even if we find someone, remember it was a long time ago. If it was obvious back then, the police down here would've answered these questions. It's not going to get clearer after thirty years."

She sighed. "What do you suggest then?"

"I think we need to find someone in the police station."

Alex slumped into her chair. "And how do you suggest we do that?"

"I have an idea."

"I hope it's a good one."

Greg put his hand on hers. "I think it is."

Alex felt a strange tension, but she didn't pull her hand away. She needed Greg like she'd never needed anyone. Later, when this was all over, she could figure out how she felt, how he felt. There wasn't time for it now.

"I've got a connection down here." He paused. "It's not a great one, but it's okay. It's my mother's cousin's kid. She's a detective."

"A kid detective?"

"She's about forty, I guess. I haven't seen her since we were kids. But her dad was a detective here, too. Maybe she knows something about the case."

"She's a cop, Roback. She's not going to talk to me." He caught her gaze and held it. "Not if she knows who you are, she's not."

"I hate to lie to a cop."

"You want to get arrested?"

Alex thought a moment. "I can lie."

"I knew you could." He stood from his chair and put his hand out to pull her up. "Come on. We're meeting her at my great-aunt's diner."

"You have a great-aunt with a diner?"

Greg pulled her out of her chair. "There's a lot you don't know about me."

Alex followed him back through Palo Alto and down a narrow street called Hamilton. He parked across from a brightly lit diner. A small sign hung over the door, suspended by two large hooks: "Cardinal Cafe." Inside, clusters of red chairs sat around white tables. A trim older woman worked the counter.

Greg waved to her and she frowned.

"Is that little Gregory Roback?"

Alex smiled.

"Hi, Mina." He turned back to Alex. "My great-aunt."