Matisak had treated her as if she was a slaughter animal. He had drained her of her precious blood, and had fed on her blood, swallowing it.
At the courtroom door her gun had been taken from her, but she had also had the concealed one in her wheelchair. She had been brought in to point a finger at him, but she knew what she really wanted to point at him.
The courtroom appearance became excruciatingly painful and difficult for her, to have to talk about the details of his treatment of her, and she found herself physically ill at the sight of the plain-looking, ordinary-enough man in a gray suit and tie who did not look capable of the crimes she had watched him commit. He sat emotionless throughout the trials as if an observer from another country or planet, never once revealing the least emotion until he made his insanity bid.
Since the trial, she had gotten away on a much-needed rest, leaving J.T. in charge of the forensic testimony, unable to be both victim and forensic expert in the case. J.T. did an extremely good job on the stand, nailing the lid shut on Matisak. He demonstrated the spigot for the court and jury, explained how Dr. Jessica Coran had uncovered the truth below the huge throat gashes of three successive victims, and how Dr. Robertson had pinpointed the use of a sable brush used in a cosmetic attempt to cover the fact that the bodies were drained of blood.
The evidence of DNA meant another nail in the coffin over the vampire. A physical examination of the accused showed that he suffered from Addison's disease, which linked him with the cortisone capsule found at the Zion murder.
Teresa O'Rourke took the stand to explain how the psychological profiling team, using the innovative approach pioneered by Otto Boutine, had arrived at Matisak as the killer. She took too many bows so far as Jessica was concerned, but the logical, step-by-step process that led judge and jury from Wekosha, Wisconsin, across the Midwest to Chicago and Balue-Stork, was something ev-eryone became fascinated with. They could understand this a great deal easier than the scientific aspects of the investigation.
The weakness in the case against Matisak was due to Otto's recklessness as well as her own, Jessica knew. Otto, in a highly charged emotional state, had not taken legal precautions. As a result nothing taken from Matisak's house, nor any photographic evidence from the house taken the night that Otto and Brewer had broken in, was held as admissible by the presiding judge, who quoted chapter and verse of the laws surrounding FBI and local police officials' necessity in securing proper search and seizure warrants, even in cases of probable cause where the FBI was concerned.
So the jury never heard it. This enraged anyone familiar with the case and particularly Jessica, who would have died as Matisak's final victim if Otto had waited for papers to be served. As a result none of the evidence so carefully gathered at Gamble's house by Brewer was admissible, either. The prosecutors could find no way to get this information before the jury.
This made the hair, fiber, blood and DNA evidence trebly important. Matisak was prosecuted not for killing Melanie Trent, Candy Copeland, Tommy Fowler or his many other typical victims, but for murdering Gamble, Maurice Lowenthal, Captain Kaseem, and for returning fire and killing Otto Boutine. He was convicted on two counts of murder and one count of manslaughter. Despite the fact the FBI evidence pointed to Matisak as the Chicago vampire and certain items found at Lowenthal's, such as the spigot and the designs and patent papers in his lockbox, also pointed to Matisak as the serial killer, he was acquitted of the charges of these heinous acts on the grounds of reasonable doubt and his insanity plea.
Jessica now stood before the man's cell.
She could not believe that she had made it this far. Her crutches were pinching at her underarms, and she perspired badly.
The door swung silently on an inward hinge, opening on a serving area. Matisak received his food through a tray that opened outward and moved inward electronically. At no time did a guard have to put his hand into the cell. A single chair stood in the ante-area outside the cell. This area, along with the cell itself, and the creature that stood in it, staring wide-eyed back at her, gave her the impression of a zoo, except that there were no bars here, only a thick, Plexiglas divider between them.
Matisak looked like a pathetic little man inside his cloistered, white cell behind the glass that separated him from the rest of the world. He looked like a specimen in a laboratory to be studied.
The guard pointed to an intercom in the wall beside the chair.
“ You talk through there,” he said.
Matisak stared at her as if she were the bug behind the glass, his blue crystal eyes never leaving her. She fought her way into the hard chair from her stilts with as much grace as she could muster, found a good place for the crutches to be leaned and then she fished in her purse for a number of items. She tried to avoid his gaze as she prepared for the interview.
As she did so, she looked into the bottom of her purse, thought about a false bottom there where she had once concealed a gun and carried it into a courtroom. The false bottom was still there. She wondered if the glass between them was bulletproof, guessing that the state would not foot the bill for such an expense. No one expected someone to come in with the intention of murdering an inmate. Perhaps the glass would deflect the bullet, however, causing her only to injure him. It might take two, three shots.
She lifted out the pad and pencil she had brought, and below this, she fished for the tape recorder.?
THIRTY-THREE
She showed him the tape recorder. It was her stipulation that she would come only if he would allow it. She said nothing to him, not wishing to initiate anything with Matisak. Rather, she spoke into the microphone her intentions as he leered out at her, his dark blue eyes like crystals, the only feature about him that might be called redeeming, and yet they were filled with a kind of unfathomable mad light.
“ I knew you'd come… couldn't help yourself,” he was saying as she pressed the go button on the recorder.
“ Let the record show that on this day, August 13, 1992, prisoner AK2115 of the Pennsylvania Federal Penitentiary at Stony Meadow, Matthew Matisak, here on three counts each of homicide-”
“ Never mind all that, Dr. Coran.”
“- and serving two life terms consecutively-”
“ I understand your father was also a doctor, a coroner, in fact, like you.”
“- had indicated a wish to talk openly with agent Jessica Coran, also Dr. Coran, Chief Medical Examiner, Division-”
“ He was a good man, your father, wasn't he?”
“- that said prisoner has agreed to this taping. Say it now!”
“ I've read one of his books. Kind of obtuse writing, but very inform-”
“ Say it, damn you!”
“ All right… all right, I agree to this taping.” 321 “Now, will you tell me what it is you wish to discuss?”
“ You.”
“ No, no, we are not here to discuss me, Mr. Matisak. If that is all you wish…” she started to get up and ring for the guard.
“ No, no! Don't go!” His voice was filled with a pitiable sob that seemed to her rehearsed. “I meant only to ask… how you are.”
“ How I am,” she repeated, almost laughing at the irony of this man's asking her how she was. “You bastard.”
He stared at her, his eyes riveting hers. “I fully understand your hatred for me.”
“ Good. Then we know where we stand with each other. Now, shall we continue with this… this interview?”
“ Yes.”
“ Are you prepared to talk seriously?”
“ Yes.”