"I think extremes can teach us a lot. What I'm trying to say is, I wanted to see if I was really cut out for mental-health work, figured if I could handle Starkweather, I could cope with anything."
Milo said, "But the job ended up being repetitious."
"There's a lot of routine. I guess I was naive, thinking I was going to see fascinating things. Between their medication and their disabilities, most of the guys are pretty knocked out-passive. That's what I meant by baby-sitting. We make sure they get fed and stay reasonably clean, keep them out of trouble, give them time out when they pull tantrums, the same as you'd do with a little kid. Same thing over and over, shift after shift."
"Dr. Argent was new to the job," I said. "Any idea if she liked it?"
"She seemed to."
"Did she talk about why she'd transferred from County General?"
"No. She didn't talk much. Only work-related stuff, nothing personal."
"Was she assigned to Ardis Peake, or did she choose to work with him?"
"I think she chose to-the doctors have a lot of freedom. We techs are pretty much bound by routine."
"Did she say why she wanted to work with Peake?"
She stroked her ponytail, arched her back. "All I remember her saying about him was that he was a challenge. Because of how low-functioning he was. If we could increase his behavioral repertoire, we could do it for anyone. That appealed to me."
"Learning from the extreme."
"Exactly."
"What about the Skills for Daily Living group?" I said. "What was her goal there?"
"She wanted to see if the men could learn to take better care of themselves-grooming, basic manners, paying attention when someone else spoke. Even with their psychosis."
"How were men picked for the group?"
"Claire picked them. I was just there to assist."
"See any progress?"
"Slow," she said. "We only had seven sessions. Tomorrow would've been eight." She swiped at her eyes.
"Any particular disciplinary problems in the group?"
"Nothing unusual. They have their moods; you have to be firm and consistent. If you're asking if any of them resented her, not at all. They liked her. Everyone did."
Tug. She chewed her cheek, arched her back again. "It really stinks. She was a good teacher, very patient. I can't believe anyone would want to hurt her."
"Even though she didn't get personal," said Milo, "did she tell you anything about her life outside work?"
"No. I'm sorry-I mean, you just didn't sit down for coffee with her."
Yet she referred to Claire by her first name. The instant familiarity of Gen X.
She said, "I really wish I could tell you more. The thing about Peake-it's nothing, right?"
"Probably nothing," said Milo. "But I will want to talk to him."
She shook her head. "You don't talk to him. Not in any normal way. Most of the time he's totally spaced. It took Claire and me months just to get him to pay attention."
"Well," said Milo, "we'll see what happens."
She reached back, pulled a leaf from the tree, and ground it between her fingers. "I guess I expected that. Better brace myself for a lecture from Swig. I probably should've gone through him first."
"Want me to run interference for you?"
"No, I can handle it. At least I know I did the right thing- time to move on, anyway. Maybe do some work with children."
"How much more school do you have?" I said.
"One more year for a bachelor's, then graduate work. I'm paying for it all, so it'll take time. One thing about Starkweather, the pay's good. But I'll find something."
Milo said, "So you're definitely leaving?"
"Can't see any reason not to."
"Too bad. You might be able to help some more."
"Help how?"
"By trying to draw Peake out again."
Her laugh was skittish. "No thanks, Detective Sturgis. I don't want to get any more involved. And he doesn't really talk to me, either."
"He did the day before Claire was killed."
"That was-I don't know what that was all about," she said.
Milo smiled. "I can't convince you, huh?"
She smiled back. "I don't think so."
"Think of it as learning more about extremes-a challenge."
"If I want a challenge now, I rock-climb."
"A climber," said Milo. "I'm afraid of heights."
"You get used to it. That's the point. I like all sorts of challenges-physical things-climbing, parasaih'ng, skydiving.
Getting physical's especially important when you work in a place like Starkweather. Having to watch yourself all the time, but no exercise, no movement. Anyway…" She looked at her watch. "I'd really like to go now, okay?"
"Okay."
She shook our hands, walked away with an easy athletic stride.
Milo said, "So what the hell is this thing with Peake all about?"
"Probably nothing," I said. "He muttered something; normally Heidi wouldn't have noticed. After Claire was murdered, she got scared."
"Little Ms. Daredevil?"
"Jumping out of planes is one thing. Murder's another."
" 'Dr. A bad eyes in a box,' " he said. "What if it's not pure gibberish? What if Peake had a buddy who got out? Someone who told him he was gonna do something bad to Claire?"
"It doesn't sound as if Peake has buddies. Heidi said he rooms alone, no one wants to associate with him. But maybe. Let's have a closer look at him."
"Ardis Peake," he said. "Long time since he did his thing. Sixteen years ago. I know exactly, because I'd just started Homicide, first thing they hand me is a screwed-up whodunit, I'm sweating over it, not getting anywhere, wondering if I went into the wrong line of work. A few days later Peake does his thing over in Whateverville, some local yokel sheriff solves it the same day. I remember thinking some people have all the luck: asshole just hands himself over on a platter with garnish. Few years later, when I took that VICAP course at Quantico, the Fibbies used Peake as a teaching case, said he was typical of the disorganized spree killer, just about defined the profile: raving lunatic with poor hygiene, mind coming apart at the seams, no serious effort to hide the crime. 'Bad eyes in a box'-so now he's gone from psycho to prophet?"
"Or he overheard another patient say something and repeated it. I just can't see him involved in Claire's murder. Because he is disorganized. Borderline intelligence. And whoever murdered Claire-and Richard-planned meticulously."
"That's assuming Peake really is that messed up."
"You think he's been faking all his life?"
"You tell me-is it possible?"
"Anything's possible, but I'd say it's highly unlikely. You're saying he's part of some murderous duo? Then why would he brag about it? On the other hand, a guy like that, withdrawn, never talks, someone might figure he's not tuned in, let down their guard around him, say something interesting. If that's what happened, maybe Peake can focus enough to tell you who it was."
"Back to Bedlam," he said. "Peachy."
We headed out of the park, toward our cars.
I said, "One thing's consistent with what we were just saying about Claire. Picking Peake as a project because she wanted serious pathology. But what if something else happened along the way? In her attempt to open Peake up, she opened herself up-had the poor judgment to talk about herself. In therapist jargon, it's called self-disclosure, and we're taught to be careful about it. But people mess up all the time-focusing on themselves instead of the patient. Claire's specialty was neuropsych. As a psychotherapist, she was a novice."
"She never got personal, but with Peake she related?"
"Precisely because Peake couldn't relate back."
"So," he said, "she tells him something about a box, bad eyes… whatever the hell that means, and he spits it back."
"Maybe a box refers to some kind of bondage game."
"Back to dominance… You really see her that way?"
"I'm just throwing out suggestions," I said. "Maybe Claire selected Peake out of some great sense of compassion. Robin disagrees with my impression of Claire's house. She says it just sounds like Claire wanted privacy."