“At this point, sir, we’re simply trying to find him. To help him.” Her index finger touched the Sony’s REC button.
I shook my head.
“Sir, we could arrange for you to be questioned at Bureau headquarters.”
“That would take time, paperwork, and something tells me time’s of the essence,” I said. “On the other hand, you could tell me what’s going on and I could cooperate and we could all try to have something of a weekend.”
She looked at Bratz. No signal for him that I saw, but she turned back to me and her expression had softened.
“Here’s a summary, Doctor. All you need to know and more: Leimert Fusco was a highly admired member of the Bureau—I assume you’ve heard of the BSU? The original Behavioral Science Unit at Quantico? Mr. Fusco was a member of the freshman class. Actually, he’s Dr. Fusco. Has a PhD in psychology, same as you.”
“So he informed me. Why was he asked to leave the Bureau?”
Bratz leaned across and clicked on the recorder, said, “How’d you meet him, sir?”
“Sorry, I’m not comfortable with this,” I said, sorry about a lot more. Moments ago, I’d been ready to focus on Michael Burke as the real Dr. Death. If Fusco had lied, what happened to that scenario?
“What’s the problem, sir?” said Donovan.
“Talking to you, going on record, without knowing the full picture. I spent time with Fusco. I need to know who I was dealing with.”
Another looked passed between them. Donovan’s mouth turned up again and she crossed her legs, setting off little scratchy sounds. Short legs, but shapely. Runner’s calves in sheer stockings. Bratz snuck a peek at them, as if they were still a novelty. I wondered how long they’d been partnered.
“Fair enough, sir,” she said, suddenly sunny. She tossed her hair, but it didn’t move much. Leg recross. She inched closer to me. I could imagine some FBI seminar. Achieve rapport with the subject by any appropriate means. “But first, let me take a stab at how you met him: he contacted Detective Sturgis and asked to meet with you to discuss a homicide—most likely that of Dr. Mate— because you’re the psychological consultant on the case. He told you he knows who the murderer is.” Lots of teeth. “How’m I doing so far?”
“Very well,” I said.
“Michael Burke,” said Bratz. “He wanted you to believe in Dr. Michael Burke.”
“Is Burke fiction?”
Bratz shrugged. “Let’s just say Dr. Fusco’s obsessed.”
“With Burke.”
“With the idea of Burke,” said Donovan.
“Are you telling me he made Burke up?”
She glanced at the recorder. Switched it off. “Okay, here’s the whole story, but we insist you keep it confidential. Agent Fusco had an honorable career with the Bureau. For several years, he was assigned to the Midtown Manhattan office as director of behavioral sciences. Five years ago, his wife died—breast cancer—and he was left sole parent of his child. A daughter, fourteen years old, named Victoria. What made Mrs. Fusco’s death especially traumatic for Agent Fusco was that Victoria had also been diagnosed with cancer. Several years before, as a toddler. A bone tumor, she was treated at Sloan-Kettering, apparently cured. Shortly after his wife passed away, Fusco requested a transfer, said he wanted to raise Victoria in a quieter environment. An administrative position was found for him in the Buffalo office and he purchased a home near Lake Erie.”
“Not a career move,” I said. “He was devoted to the girl.”
Donovan nodded. “Everything seemed fine for a couple of years, then the girl got sick again, at sixteen. Leukemia. Apparently the radiation she’d received for her bone tumor years ago had caused it.”
“Secondary tumor,” I said. Rare but tragic; I’d seen it at Western Peds.
“Exactly. Agent Fusco began bringing Victoria down to New York to be re-treated at Sloan-Kettering. She went into one remission, relapsed, received more chemo, achieved only a partial remission, started to weaken, tried some experimental drugs and got better but even weaker. Agent Fusco decided to continue her treatment closer to home, at a hospital in Buffalo. The goal was to increase her strength until she was able to tolerate a bone-marrow transplant back in New York. She improved for a while, then came down with pneumonia because chemotherapy had weakened her immune system. Her doctors hospitalized her and, unfortunately, she passed away.”