“The skull.”
“Tacky,” she said. “And juvenile. He saw me looking at it once and said Hope had given it to him. Which I find hard to believe.”
“Why?”
“She was the epitome of class. He was just playing head games with me—anyway, it bothered me for a long time. The rat. I kept thinking I should tell someone—the department has rules about humane treatment of animals. But Hope was his advisor and I knew she liked him and . . . I know this sounds like petty sibling rivalry but he was clearly the favored child. So if I made problems for him, how would she react? Cowardly, Dr. Delaware, but my goal is to finish my Ph.D., get out in the world, make a good home for my daughter. Hope was staying out of my life and I’d adjusted to it.”
“Did she stay out to the point of neglect?”
“Honestly? There were times I needed her and she wasn’t available and sometimes it hung me up. Because of my tight schedule, every delay threw me back. I even tried to tell her once. She was pleasant but really didn’t want to hear it so I never brought it up again. When I picked her, I thought she’d be ideal because of her feminism. My field of interest is cross-cultural sex-roles and child rearing. I thought she’d get turned on by the topic but she really wasn’t interested.”
“But with Casey it was different.”
“Very different. She always seemed to have time for him. Don’t get me wrong, when we did get together she was great—supportive, incredibly smart. And she did come through on my grant. But getting her attention was always tough and after her book came out it became impossible. By the time I left for England, I was starting to feel like an orphan.”
“How do you know she had more time with Casey?”
“Because I saw them together a lot and he let me know. “Hope and I were lunching,’ “I was over at Hope’s house the other day.’ Almost gloating—God, this really does sound like sibling garbage, doesn’t it?”
“Grad school often works out that way.”
“I guess. She even took him with her to TV shows. He told me about sitting in the greenroom, meeting celebrities. Which isn’t to say she wasn’t entitled to work with whomever she preferred.”
“Pinching the rat,” I said. “Gloating. Sounds like he’s into control in some unpleasant ways.”
“Yes. I definitely see him as highly dominant. One of those people who won’t have anything to do with a situation unless he can control it. But he is bright. Very bright.”
“How do you know?”
“During the first three years of classes, he always scored high, and I remember someone saying he was at the top of his class at Berkeley.”
“But no interest in clinical issues.”
“Just the opposite. He used to disparage clinical work, said psychology was presumptuous because it hadn’t laid enough scientific groundwork to be able to help people. That point of view goes over pretty well with lots of the department biggies, so he’ll probably end up a full professor. Heck, with his brains and his dominance needs, he’ll probably end up a department chairman.”
“Chairman in black leather?”
“I’m sure it’s a stage,” she said. “Maybe next year it’ll be tweeds and elbow patches.”
I sat thinking about the rat suffering between Locking’s fingers. Mr. Skull Ring.
Hope’s gift.
Another Berkeley grad.
The Northern California connection. . . . Big Micky moving up to San Francisco because you could get away with more there.
How many connecting threads? How far back did it go?
I tiptoed into the bedroom, determined not to wake Robin. Eased into bed, careful not to rock the mattress.
But she said, “Honey?” and reached out to me.
I wrapped my arms around her.
CHAPTER
31
Next morning my mind was a gun scope with Locking centered in the crosshairs.
I started phoning at nine, in my bathrobe. No answer at his home or his campus office. Down in the basement with his rats?
I had no home address because his file was missing. Had he pulled it himself? Hiding something?