Psychopath by Keith Ablow Page A

met, that I’d call her, which took till like five-fifteen, five-thirty, then it was dark, so I figured I might as well wait."
    "Why didn’t you get the test done before going to the shipyard, like we agreed?" Clevenger asked.
    "A million things," Billy said.
    "A million..."
    "Honestly?  I slept in ’til like noon, then ended up going for a run to kind of clear my head, grabbed lunch and whatever.  Then I got worried how jammed the clinic might be, that I might miss Peter.  You know?  But I can definitely go get it done tomorrow morning."
    Clevenger knew enough about drug abusers — himself included — to know they were always stalling to avoid turning over their bodily fluids, buying time for their bodies to detoxify, for their kidneys and livers to obliterate the truth.  "How about right now?" he asked.  "We can drop by my buddy Brian Strasnick’s lab in Lynn.  Willow Street Medical Center.  He’s there half the night."
    "I told Casey I’d meet her," Billy said.
    "Meet her afterwards," Clevenger said, trying to stay in control.
    Billy smiled, shook his head.  "She’s not gonna like—"
    "I don’t give a fuck what she likes," Clevenger sputtered.  "We had a deal that you’d have a tox screen done at Mass General, then you’d go to your interview at the shipyard.  And you let me down.  So now you’re gonna take the ride to Lynn with me."
    "Because you don’t trust me," Billy said, trying to sound wounded.
    "Because you didn’t hold up your part of the bargain," Clevenger said.
    Billy shook his head.  Fuck it , he thought.  Maybe this Strasnick’s machine was a dud.  Maybe he’d get the chance to add some water to his urine and dilute any drug metabolites below their recognizable concentrations.  If none of that worked, he’d still get another night out with Casey before the shit hit the fan with Clevenger.  "Fine," he said.  "Let’s go."
     
    *            *            *
     
    "How was Quantico?" Billy asked, as soon as they’d climbed into Clevenger’s truck.
    "I think it went pretty smoothly," Clevenger said.  He hoped Billy would let him leave it at that — for two reasons.  First, he was too angry to make small talk.  Second, and more important, he wanted to keep Billy at a distance from his forensic work, to avoid feeding him a steady diet of darkness.
    "What case do they want you on?"
    "A murder case."
    "The Highway Killer?" Billy asked excitedly.  "How cool would it be working on that?"
    "They asked me not to talk about our meeting," Clevenger said tightly.  He glanced at Billy, saw him deflate.  "Not to anyone."
    "Sure," Billy said.
    "That’s the way they want it."
    "But you told them you don’t keep anything from North."
    Clevenger could feel Billy jockeying for position.  There was part of Billy that wanted nothing to do with Clevenger and part of him that wanted to get as close as he possibly could.  Closer than anyone else.  And maybe if Billy had followed through with the drug test, Clevenger would have told him a little more about his meeting.  Nothing too grisly.  Nothing truly classified.  Just something to let him know Clevenger was taking him into his confidence.  But that would be sending the wrong message now.  Billy had to learn that trust was something you earned.  "North hasn’t let me down in a long time," he said.
    Billy turned away and stared out the passenger window.
    They drove in silence the next few minutes, headed down Route 16 East through Revere, Clevenger wondering what Billy was thinking, figuring he was probably less focused on the drug test than on whether he would be done with the drug test in time to catch the train out of Lynn to meet his girlfriend at the North Shore Shopping Center ten miles away in Peabody, something he’d arranged to do just before leaving the loft.  Maybe he was wondering whether Tower Records would have a CD he wanted or whether he had enough cash for a room at the Motel 6 up the street