glasses and his gentle manner, she says, “You’re the last person I’d find upsetting.”
“Well, if you don’t mind, may I ask a few questions?”
She steels herself. “If I can help.”
“How did you know that Daryl Wayne Flint would go to Dr. Moody’s?”
“It was just a guess, but it seemed obvious that Flint would seek out that connection. Besides, he’d see an opportunity with Moody.”
“In what way?”
“His arrogance, for one thing.”
“Flint’s?”
“No, I mean Moody’s.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, haven’t you read his books?”
A pause. “Um, no, I’m afraid I’ve fallen behind in my reading. I’ve had some health issues.”
She tenses. “What kind of health issues?”
“Just a little surgery.”
“What kind of surgery?”
“Heart surgery. No big deal. They fixed me right up.”
“Heart surgery? Are you okay?” she asks, her voice rising an octave.
“That was years ago. I’m fine now, but I lost track of Dr. Moody. So please continue. Tell me how you figured that Flint would go after him.”
She exhales loudly. “Not that he would go
after
him, no, not that. But think about it: Dr. Moody was his confidante.”
“Hmm, yes, as well as a link to the outside world. So you realized that Flint might have become . . . somewhat dependent on that connection. Is that what you mean?”
“But I have no idea why Flint killed him. Maybe he resented Dr. Moody. Maybe he disliked the notion that his psychiatrist had the audacity to pretend he understood him.”
Bender hums a note. “So you think Flint wanted to prove to Dr. Moody that he was the one in control?”
“But it’s not rocket science. The profilers should have figured this out.”
“You’d think so. But Flint’s case was considered closed.”
“Was. Past tense.”
“Correct. So now they’re at a loss. The initial theory was that Flint’s mother might be hiding him, since she’s the only person who visited him at the hospital.”
“She was weird.” Reeve frowns, picturing the woman. So charming on the witness stand, so menacing in private. An unpleasant encounter in the women’s restroom flashes through her mind and she adds, “Weird in a witchy kind of way.”
“I remember. You and your sister made up a term for her, uh . . . what was it?”
“Obsessive-repulsive disorder.”
He laughs. “That was it.”
“I was wondering, how many times did his mother visit him? Do you know?”
“Good question. Let’s see . . .”
It seems as if he’s flipping through pages, and it occurs to her that Bender has a copy of Flint’s records. She recalls the heavy briefcase crammed with files that he always carried with him.
“Here it is,” he says. “Hmm, this is interesting. Flint’s mother used to visit about four times a year, but she visited fifteen times in the last year, twelve times in the last five months.”
“Really? So what changed?”
“I’m wondering the same thing. I’m sure the bureau is looking into it.”
She rubs her forehead. She’s getting a headache. “So, why are you working on this? I thought you said you were retired.”
“I am. But the FBI stays on you like a tattoo, I’m afraid. And I’m the one who’s most familiar with Flint’s case.”
“Unfortunately for you, right?”
He utters some agreement as she spies a news crew lurking beside Sather Gate. They don’t spot her as she veers away. “Sorry I can’t be more help, but, uh, I’m afraid I’m going to be late for class. I really need to go.”
“One more thing. Where do you think Flint might head next?”
Dark recollections wash through her, but the past has faded. “I’ve no idea,” she says at last. “He has a plan, I’m sure. But he won’t go to his mother’s.”
“So where?”
“Maybe someplace off the grid, like a hideaway in the mountains, like a fishing cabin.”
“Fishing cabin? What makes you say that?”
She closes her eyes, trying to conjure a memory, but
“Well, if you don’t mind, may I ask a few questions?”
She steels herself. “If I can help.”
“How did you know that Daryl Wayne Flint would go to Dr. Moody’s?”
“It was just a guess, but it seemed obvious that Flint would seek out that connection. Besides, he’d see an opportunity with Moody.”
“In what way?”
“His arrogance, for one thing.”
“Flint’s?”
“No, I mean Moody’s.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, haven’t you read his books?”
A pause. “Um, no, I’m afraid I’ve fallen behind in my reading. I’ve had some health issues.”
She tenses. “What kind of health issues?”
“Just a little surgery.”
“What kind of surgery?”
“Heart surgery. No big deal. They fixed me right up.”
“Heart surgery? Are you okay?” she asks, her voice rising an octave.
“That was years ago. I’m fine now, but I lost track of Dr. Moody. So please continue. Tell me how you figured that Flint would go after him.”
She exhales loudly. “Not that he would go
after
him, no, not that. But think about it: Dr. Moody was his confidante.”
“Hmm, yes, as well as a link to the outside world. So you realized that Flint might have become . . . somewhat dependent on that connection. Is that what you mean?”
“But I have no idea why Flint killed him. Maybe he resented Dr. Moody. Maybe he disliked the notion that his psychiatrist had the audacity to pretend he understood him.”
Bender hums a note. “So you think Flint wanted to prove to Dr. Moody that he was the one in control?”
“But it’s not rocket science. The profilers should have figured this out.”
“You’d think so. But Flint’s case was considered closed.”
“Was. Past tense.”
“Correct. So now they’re at a loss. The initial theory was that Flint’s mother might be hiding him, since she’s the only person who visited him at the hospital.”
“She was weird.” Reeve frowns, picturing the woman. So charming on the witness stand, so menacing in private. An unpleasant encounter in the women’s restroom flashes through her mind and she adds, “Weird in a witchy kind of way.”
“I remember. You and your sister made up a term for her, uh . . . what was it?”
“Obsessive-repulsive disorder.”
He laughs. “That was it.”
“I was wondering, how many times did his mother visit him? Do you know?”
“Good question. Let’s see . . .”
It seems as if he’s flipping through pages, and it occurs to her that Bender has a copy of Flint’s records. She recalls the heavy briefcase crammed with files that he always carried with him.
“Here it is,” he says. “Hmm, this is interesting. Flint’s mother used to visit about four times a year, but she visited fifteen times in the last year, twelve times in the last five months.”
“Really? So what changed?”
“I’m wondering the same thing. I’m sure the bureau is looking into it.”
She rubs her forehead. She’s getting a headache. “So, why are you working on this? I thought you said you were retired.”
“I am. But the FBI stays on you like a tattoo, I’m afraid. And I’m the one who’s most familiar with Flint’s case.”
“Unfortunately for you, right?”
He utters some agreement as she spies a news crew lurking beside Sather Gate. They don’t spot her as she veers away. “Sorry I can’t be more help, but, uh, I’m afraid I’m going to be late for class. I really need to go.”
“One more thing. Where do you think Flint might head next?”
Dark recollections wash through her, but the past has faded. “I’ve no idea,” she says at last. “He has a plan, I’m sure. But he won’t go to his mother’s.”
“So where?”
“Maybe someplace off the grid, like a hideaway in the mountains, like a fishing cabin.”
“Fishing cabin? What makes you say that?”
She closes her eyes, trying to conjure a memory, but
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