“That’s exactly right. A relationship like that is doomed from the start. No matter what she did, it would never be good enough because the emotional bond is missing. When people are truly in love with each other, small things are forgiven and forgotten. Not so with a devoid. Seeing those dirty dishes is like a slap in the face. He doesn’t look at the dishes with compassion and ask her if anything’s wrong, he just sees them as indication she doesn’t love him. Living with a devoid would be the ultimate walk on eggshells.”
“Why would someone stay with a person like that?” Henning asked.
“The simplest answer is love. She loved him and was willing to put up with his shortcomings. There are other reasons. She might’ve had nowhere else to go, or she was convinced she could change him if she only did this. None of it would make a difference. The tragic reality is, unless Ernie gets comprehensive psychiatric help, he’ll never change. He’ll never come to terms with who and what he is. I was beginning to make some real progress with him just before he was released. You have to remember, on some level these people instinctively know there’s something’s wrong with them, they just don’t know what it is or how it happened. To use a simplistic example, take cats. If kittens are exposed to human love and affection within the first few weeks of their lives, they become pets. If not, they’re feral. Of course, it’s not that simple with humans, but the principle’s basically the same. Unless an infant receives the stimuli needed to feel safe and secure, it’s guaranteed to grow up with emotional problems to one degree or another.”
“What’s his prognosis?”
“Unless he receives comprehensive therapy, hopeless. He won’t change. He can’t. To use a metaphor, he’ll spend the rest of his life barking at the moon.”
“What did you talk about?” Nathan asked. “I mean generally. You know. What did Ernie think his problems were?”
“That’s easy,” said Fitzgerald. “It was the drunk-driving incident that landed him here. He claimed he was railroaded.”
“Was he?”
“I reviewed the police reports and eyewitness accounts. There’s no question Ernie was legally drunk, but not overly so. From everything I remember reading, it wasn’t truly his fault. The woman walked out from between two parked cars. Even if he hadn’t been drinking, she still would’ve died. She was quite drunk herself.”
“But railroaded?” Nathan asked. “It sounds like you actually give that some credence.”
“I do give it some credence. Some, mind you.” Fitzgerald paused, trying to remember. “I don’t recall her name, but I think she was from a family of some influence. Justice acted swiftly in the case, that’s for sure. I kept copies of the newspaper articles in Ernie’s file. He griped about it a lot, to the point of being obsessive, swore to get revenge someday. He also never believed he got a fair court-martial.”
“They’re all innocent,” Henning said.
“Point taken,” Fitzgerald said. “But if the circumstances had been slightly different, there may not have been any charges leveled at all.”
“We’ll check it out,” Nathan said. “Please send us everything you have on Ernie’s DUI conviction.”
“Will do.”
Nathan stood, shook hands, and gave Dr. Fitzgerald a business card with his cell and fax numbers handwritten on the back. Henning did the same. “I really appreciate you talking to us.”
“To be honest, it wasn’t my decision. I got a call from the USDB’s commanding officer, who got a call from the fort’s commanding officer, who had received a call from the Chief of Staff of the Army.”
Good old Thorny, Nathan thought. “Well, I still appreciate it.”
“One last thing,” Fitzgerald said. “Watch yourselves. They don’t come more vicious than Ernie Bridgestone.”
Chapter 15
On the drive out of the fort, Nathan and Henning rode in silence. They didn’t want to discuss anything in front of the cabbie. Back at the motel, Nathan paid the fare and offered a generous tip.
Walking through the lobby, Nathan asked, “So, what do you think?”
Henning shook his head. “That stuff about teaching a kid to smile was creepy.”
“Yeah, it’s weird, all right.”
“What do you think?”
“What I think,” Nathan said, “is that wherever we go next, we should rent a car. It’d be better than taking taxis all over creation.”
“So where do we go next?”
“Fresno, to pay Amber Sheldon a visit.” Nathan looked at his watch. “I want to keep moving. When we find her, we won’t have time to conduct a prolonged surveillance. We’ll take the direct approach and knock on her door.”
“Just like that?”
“You have a better idea?”
“Not really.”
“We need to run her through the NCIC. Can you access the database from the motel?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe we’ll catch a break. If she’s in the system we’ll have a current address, even better if she’s on parole or probation. If she’s not at home when we show up, her PO will have her employment info.”
“What do you hope to learn from her?” asked Henning. “I mean, besides the obvious, Ernie’s whereabouts.”
“I’m not sure yet. I won’t know until I talk to her. We might be able to use her.”
“Use her? Like bait?”
Nathan needed to change the subject. He didn’t want to discuss this train of thought aloud. “We should call and check on your SAC, see how she’s doing and give her an update.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“I’ll swing by your room in ten minutes.”
Back in his room, Nathan thought about Amber Mills Sheldon. Interrogating a woman involved different techniques and psychology. In truth, he hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. He’d interrogated women before and in some regards found them to be more resilient than men. Despite common belief, interrogation was a mind game more than anything else. To be effective, the victim’s spirit must be broken. Physical discomfort, while effective, wasn’t the best method unless the information was time-sensitive.
He wished he had a female interrogator available. The psychology of having a woman present, looking on with emotional detachment and a complete lack of sympathy, worked well toward breaking a female’s spirit. Having a woman present was especially effective against men. Nathan figured it was the macho syndrome. Men didn’t like to appear weak and vulnerable, especially in front of women. Once again, it was all about mind games. Unless the victim had counter-interrogation training, it usually didn’t take long to wring information out of them. If that held true, Amber Sheldon wouldn’t be much of a challenge.
He gave Henning a few extra minutes before knocking on his door.
“It’s not locked,” Henning said.
Nathan stepped in and left the door partly open. Sitting at a small desk, Henning was typing on his laptop’s keyboard.
“What’ve we got?” Nathan asked.
“Amber Sheldon is currently on probation for drunk and disorderly contact, disturbing the peace, and driving while intoxicated. Here, take a look. I didn’t bring a printer.”
Nathan looked over Henning’s shoulder while he scrolled down to Amber Sheldon’s color mug shot. As usual, she didn’t look real happy. She had stringy blond hair, blue eyes, and a hollow, sullen-looking face, probably from using. She looked hard, a summa cum laude graduate of the school of hard knocks. When the picture was taken, she definitely fit the description of rode hard and put away wet. The photo was a year old.
“She’s got a fairly long sheet,” Henning continued. “Nothing too serious. We have a current address, phone number, and place of employment. She lives in Fresno. Works at an establishment called Pete’s Truck Palace. Let’s see… After her arrest in 2006, her driver’s license was revoked for six months. Based on her background and the trouble she’s had with the law over the years, I’m not expecting her to be real friendly. Let’s make that call to SAC Simpson. I think she’ll want you present for the call.”