I glanced at his name badge and let out a half chuckle. “No offense intended, Officer Baker, I know why she’s in here, but isn’t that overkill? I mean, so far everyone has been making her out to sound like that serial killer from those movies who ate his victims with fava beans and Chianti.”
“She’s close enough in my book,” he replied. Then he regarded me with a skewed stare before asking, “They didn’t tell you, did they?”
“Tell me what?”
“A couple of months ago she went monkey-shit crazy during a one-on-one therapy session. Then, when the doc called for help she really lost it. Clawed the living shit out of an officer’s face. Ended up taking five of us to restrain the bitch, and pepper spray didn’t even faze her. Neither did the needle full of sedative they hit her with once she was in restraints.
“Worst part is that before we could pull her off she somehow managed to break the officer’s jaw, gouge out one of his eyes, and bite off most of his right ear. But unlike our friend from the movies, she spit the ear back out.” He stopped talking and stared at me for a moment then added, “And that, Mister Gant, is why she has her own special set of rules. Still think it’s overkill?”
I can’t say that Annalise having done this came as a great shock. Still, only just now hearing about it blindsided me quite a bit, and I felt like an ass for making the comparison. I paused briefly then answered him with noticeable hesitation in my voice, “No…they…didn’t tell me about that.”
“Yeah, well it’s not exactly something we publicize,” he told me. “If all that wasn’t enough, when we finally pried her off him she was moaning like a twenty-dollar whore. Crazy bitch rolled around in her cell for the rest of the day and more than half the night acting like she was gettin’ laid, and I mean hard, if you know what I’m saying.”
“I do.” I nodded and then offered. “Actually, I doubt she was acting though.”
“What makes you say that?”
“She’s a sexual sadist. She literally derives carnal pleasure from inflicting pain. What she did to the officer most likely brought her to a very real and very physical orgasm, which she then perpetuated by reliving the event in her mind. That’s actually part of her signature where her kills are concerned. Beyond that…well…it starts to get a little weird.”
“Like that isn’t weird enough?” he asked then issued a thoughtful grunt before adding, “Like I said, crazy ass bitch.”
“That’s one way to put it,” I agreed. “So…how is the officer doing? The one she attacked.”
“Learning to live with a glass eye and spending a lot of time with a plastic surgeon and a shrink.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah, me too,” he grunted. “On the bright side they finally unwired his jaw and let him start back on solid food about a week ago.”
I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, so I continued with my apology. “I’m sorry about the movie reference too. I didn’t mean…”
“Don’t worry about it.” He cut me off, underscoring the words with a shake of his head. “You aren’t the first one to make it, and I doubt you’ll be the last. What it comes down to is that I’m simply trying to warn you, Mister Gant. This woman isn’t one of the run-of-the-mill head cases we get around here. She’s psycho bitch insane.” He wagged his finger in a spiraling loop next to his own head. “Insane inmates are unpredictable, and unpredictable inmates are the worst kind of dangerous.”
I restrained myself from pointing out that Annalise Devereaux was even more dangerous than he imagined-but in a completely different fashion and for reasons he wouldn’t begin to believe. Nobody on this planet knew that better than I.
Instead, I replied, “I appreciate the heads up,” and left it at that.
“You’re welcome,” he said, his expression stoic. “Don’t take it personal, but I’m just doing my job. I don’t know you from Adam, so your problems are yours, not mine. But, you get hurt or killed while you’re in there on my watch, then it is my problem. Doesn’t matter what they had you sign, it’s on me. And, I’ve still got seven more years before I can start collecting a pension, so I don’t need a dead civilian on my hands fuckin’ that up.”
“I understand.”
“Good.”
In the wake of his comment he looked me over, one eyebrow cocked upward in a questioning arch. With a quick thrust of his chin toward me he said, “I have to admit I’m a bit curious about this whole square dance though. The way they fast-tracked you isn’t exactly what we consider normal around here, if you get my meaning. Especially for an inmate like Devereaux.”
I nodded. “I think I probably do.”
“Rumor is you just flew here from Saint Louis a few hours ago.”
“Well, rumor is correct. I did.”
“Must have been an early flight.”
“Too early.”
He pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully, as if chewing on that bit of information before swallowing it. A few seconds later he added, “Also seems like there’s a whole lotta other red tape gettin’ cut real quick like.”
I shrugged and then built upon his metaphor. “I guess the FBI uses some pretty sharp scissors when they have to.”
“Yeah, guess so,” he grunted. “So mind if I ask what your story is? You a big shot criminal psychologist writing a book about freak jobs like Devereaux or something like that?”
“No,” I replied, shaking my head. “I’m just a consultant.”
“Consultant, huh? Well, you seem to know an awful lot about what makes this one tick.”
“Yeah… Unfortunately she isn’t exactly a stranger to me… But, I’m afraid ‘consultant’ is still pretty much the only real label for what I do.”
“So what exactly do you consult about?”
I’d been under this spotlight before, and I knew better than to mention the occult. References to the paranormal generally caused people to look at you like you had lost your mind or simply dismiss you out of hand. I furrowed my brow and gave him a one-shouldered shrug. “Special circumstances. That’s about the only way I can think of to describe it.”
“Yeah…okay.” He gave me a quizzical look. “So what you mean is you consult on crazy fucks.”
“It gets a little more complicated than that.”
“It always does… Well, all I can say is considering the strings that got pulled around here the circumstances must be pretty damn special.”
I sighed then muttered as much to myself as to him, “You have no idea.”
“I probably don’t want to,” Baker replied, then without any further questions he returned to an explanation of procedures. “Okay. So with her history and restrictions, this should actually be a non-contact visit, which means you’re supposed to be talking to her through a pane of reinforced glass.”
“I know. But for reasons I really can’t get into, I need to be physically in the room with her.”
“That’s some of the other red tape I was talking about,” he said with a quick nod. “Now, under these circumstances we’d normally bring her in first and secure her before letting you into the room, but again, we have a change in procedure. On high said to do it the other way around. Is that your understanding?”
“Yeah, that’s the plan.”
“Mind if I ask why?”
“Psychological advantage.”
“And if she goes monkey-shit before she’s locked down?”
“I’m pretty sure they had me sign something to cover that possibility.”
“Yeah, well like I said, it’d still end up being my ass in a sling, so let’s hope you’re right about this whole advantage thing.” He shook his head then turned and unlocked a heavy door. After swinging it outward on its hinges, he pointed through the opening and offered a new set of instructions. “Have a seat on this side of the table. I’ll let them know to bring her in.”