Do No Harm

They headed directly upstairs; David was relieved not to have to deal with the contentious desk clerk. Yale's and Dalton's desks were pushed together so they faced each other as they worked. A stained coffee mug at the edge of Dalton's desk proclaimed world's greatest mom. Next to it were the film reels of the fear study.

David gestured to the reels. "Did you take a look at those yet?"

Dalton sat back down heavily. Yale pushed his fingertips together and pressed them over the bridge of his nose. "Late last night," Yale said softly.

Dalton's thumb fidgeted on his cheek. "The shit they did to those poor little bastards… " he said. "No kid should have to go through something like that." A series of crayon streaks stained Dalton's shirt near the pocket, and David thought again of Dalton's picnic at the Academy. He found something poignant in the crayon streaks, as he did in Dalton's rumpled shirt, though he wasn't sure what or why.

"Are you done speaking with the other subjects?" David asked.

"A few we're still running down. Nothing's rang the cherries."

"He's so withdrawn," David said. "I'd say it's a long shot that he's had real contact with anybody."

"Aside from you," Yale said. He flipped through his ever-present notepad. "He used surgical scalpels on the bird. Correct?"

"Yes."

"Any special kind?"

David shook his head. "He had plenty of medical supplies at his apartment. Maybe he took them before he fled. The needle he wielded at Diane-I saw a similar one in his car. For all we know, he's got a Dr. Mengele funhouse in his trunk."

"You were right about the urine sample," Yale said. "Our guy at County Med said his kidneys were clearing a lot of the stuff. He estimated something like a 2.3 blood level. That mean anything to you?"

David nodded. "That's bad. Really bad. But if we're correct in our assumption that he's no longer taking lithium, it'll be lower by now. It must be, for him to have driven over and broken in." He paused and moistened his dry lips. "Some pretty dexterous maneuvering."

"Why didn't he attack you? He's bigger and certainly a more capable fighter."

David suspected the latter remark was intended as a dig, though he found it merely accurate. "I think he's more interested in scaring me. First the torture tape, then the attack on Diane, then this. The phonetic graffiti on my car is probably intended to humiliate me. Diminish me further."

"Fits your theory," Dalton said. "Lucky for you, huh?"

"Actually, I'd be thrilled to figure out a way to make him come after me more violently. Better likelihood of catching him."

Dalton stood up and ran a hand through his already tousled hair, his cheap button-up shirt pulling untucked at the side. He chuckled to himself. "You've got balls, Doc," he said. "I'll give you that."

"The key is to instigate him consciously and intelligently," David said.

"I'd have to say you've been doing that from the get-go."

"But if I could provoke him in a way we could channel… "

"Then what?"

Before David could answer, Yale did. "We could designate his next victim. The question is: How do we place a fitting stimulus to prompt him to make a move?"

Dalton sat back down, the effort pushing a grunt out of him. "Female cops going UC as nurses?"

"But where? We haven't turned up shit over in his neck of the woods, and as you said, he's gotta know we'll nail him if he steps on Med Center grounds again."

"A nurse might be a step back for him," David said. "He's already attacked people further up the hierarchy of influence at the hospital."

"Maybe he'll go after that bitchy chief of staff. Who's on her?"

"Bicks and Perelli," Dalton said. "They'll have it covered. Perelli's the Police Olympics freehand shooting champ."

"Clyde's not going to attack someone with visible police protection," David said. "He may be getting bolder, but he's still essentially a coward. And besides, I still think I'm a more appealing target. We could wait for him to contact me or come after me again."

"Waiting," Dalton said, "sucks."

"For the next few nights, I'm putting a unit on you," Yale said. "If Clyde calls again, make sure you record it. I assume it's okay with you if we start taking steps to trace your incoming calls?"

"Yes. Fine. Can you do it immediately? I imagine he's gonna call to soak up my reaction to Stanley." At their blank looks, David added, "The bird."

"You named your bird Stanley?" Dalton said.

"My wife did. Clearly she had lapses in taste if she married me."

Yale cracked a grin-the first David had seen. "Unfortunately, even with your approval, we have to jump hoops," Yale said. "Every major post-O. J. Simpson investigation's gotta squeak. With the political pressure on this one, we can't sneeze without the DA checking in. We'll have to subpoena the phone company, get a search warrant for subscriber information. A couple of days minimum."

"Why didn't you start this already?"

"We did."