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department has solved, he said, and left it at that. Not exactly praise, but
at least he hadn t gone on the attack.
Halpern nodded sagely. What, if anything, has changed his performance
recently?
Pittman looked my way, then answered. A woman he was seeing disappeared
while they were on a trip together in Bermuda. Since that time, he s been
distracted and distant, quick to anger, not himself.
Suddenly I wanted to speak up in the courtroom. Pittman didn t know the first
thing about Christine and me.
Chief Pittman, was Detective Cross ever a suspect in the disappearance of
his girlfriend, Ms. Christine Johnson?
Pittman nodded. That s standard police procedure. I m sure he was
questioned.
But his behavior on the job has changed since her disappearance?
Yes. His concentration isn t the same. He s missed days of work. It s all a
matter of record.
Has Detective Cross been asked to seek professional help?
Yes.
Did you ask him to seek help yourself?
I did. He and I have worked together for a number of years. He was under
stress.
He s under a lot of stress? Is that fair to say?
Yes. He hasn t closed a single case recently.
Halpern nodded. A couple of weeks before the Hampton homicide, you suspended
some detectives he was friendly with.
Pittman s look was somber. Unfortunately, I did.
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Why did you suspend the detectives?
The detectives were investigating cases outside the auspices of the
department.
Is it fair to say they were making up their own rules, acting like
vigilantes?
Catherine Fitzgibbon rose to her feet and objected, but Judge Fescoe allowed
the question.
Pittman answered. I don t know about that. Vigilantes is a strong word. But
they were working without proper supervision. The case is still under
investigation.
Was Detective Cross part of the group that was making up its own rules to
solve homicides?
I m not certain. But he was spoken to about the matter. I didn t believe he
could handle a suspension at that time. I warned him and let it slide. I
shouldn t have, said Pittman.
No further questions.
None needed, I thought.
Chapter Eighty-Five
That night after he left the courthouse, Shafer was flying high. He thought
that he was winning the game. He was manic as hell, and it felt both good and
bad. He was parked in the dark garage under Boo Cassady s building. Most
manics aren t really aware that they re exhibiting signs of a manic episode,
but Shafer knew. His spirals didn t come out of nowhere, they built and
built.
The irony, and the danger, of being back in her building wasn t lost on
him. Scene of the crime and all that rot. He wanted to go to Southeast
tonight, but that was too risky. He couldn t hunt - not now. He had something
else in mind: the next few moves in his game.
It was unusual, though not unheard of, for the defendant in a first-degree
homicide trial to be out roaming the streets, but that had been one of the
prerequisites of dropping his immunity. What choice did the prosecution
have? None at all. If they didn t agree, he had a free pass to keep him out of
jail.
Shafer followed a tenant he d seen several times into the lift from the
garage and took it to Boo s apartment. He rang the doorbell. Waited. Heard her
padding across the parquet floor. Yes, Act One of tonight s performance was
about to begin.
He knew she was watching him through the door s peephole, just as he had
watched Alex Cross there on the night Patsy Hampton got her just deserts. He
had seen Boo a few times after his release, but then he cut her off.
When he stopped seeing her, she lost it. Boo called him at work, then at home
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- and constantly on his car phone until he changed the bloody number. At her
worst, she reminded him of the nutcase Glenn Close had played in the movie
Fatal Attraction.
He wondered if he could still push her buttons. She was a fairly bright woman
- and that was a large part of her problem. She thought far too much, double
and triple think. Most men, especially dull-witted Americans, didn t like
that, which made her even crazier.
He put his face against the door, felt its cool wood on his cheek. He started
his act.
I ve been petrified to see you, Boo. You don t know what it s been like. One
slipup, anything they can use against me, and I m finished. And what makes it
worse is that I m innocent. You know that. I talked to you the whole time from
my house to yours that night. You know I didn t kill that
detective. Elizabeth? Boo? Please say something. At least swear at me. Let the
anger out... Doctor?
There was no answer. Actually, he rather liked that. It made him respect her
more than he had. What the hell, she was more screwed up than he was.
You know exactly what I m going through. You re the only one who understands
my episodes. I need you, Boo. You know I m manic-depressive, bipolar, whatever
the hell you shrinks want to call my condition. Boo?
Then Shafer actually started to cry, which nearly made him laugh. He uttered
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