She went straight from the airport to O'Rourke's office. O'Rourke was a strong woman, firm and sure of herself, always dressed to kill, and she had worked her way up through the ranks to get where she was, but her affair with Bill Leamy hadn't hurt, either. Otto had had great respect for O'Rourke's ability at crime detection and, in particular, psychological profiling-her avenue up the rungs of the FBI ladder.
Their meeting was brief and predictable. O'Rourke was sorely upset. She'd gotten a call from the chief medical examiner of New York City, a Dr. Archer, who felt his entire staff had been maligned by Agent Coran, and that the unnecessary removal of Louise Emmons' body was the final straw. “Archer feels you're out to ruin his reputation in the forensics community, that you bear him some personal animosity, something to do with Dr. Darius' being made some kind of god in your eyes to which no one could possibly measure up; said the entire time you two worked together, you were second-guessing his every finding.”
“ Somebody had to.”
“ Is that all you've got to say?”
“ Why're you so concerned about Archer's feelings?”
“ It's quite simple, Dr. Coran. We will need New York someday in the future, and cooperation between our agencies has to be optimal. You, of all people, should know that.”
Jessica realized that the conversation was being taped, that everything she said was on the record and that her boss was now amassing her own evidence to prove Jessica incompetent and unable to continue in her present position, that her psychological problems were overtaking her.
Something must have shown in her eyes, because O'Rourke, staring coldly at her, said, “You know, Jessica, we're all concerned about you. The FBI family wants only what's best for you, and I, personally, care only to see that we do what's best for you.”
“ Yes, I realized that when you sent me to Philadelphia that first time, to see Matisak… to see the bastard alive and well fed and biding his time. Yes, Theresa… Chief… I've always known that you took my… my problems… as seriously as I.”
“ Are you still seeing Dr. Lemonte?”
“ No… not professionally, but thank you for asking,” she lied.
“ Then you are feeling… emotionally stronger? Good.”
“ I'm so glad that you can see that.”
“ And your… physical impairment? How is that doing?”
She held up the cane. “It's not going to go away, if that's what you mean, but it hasn't kept me from doing my job.”
“ Of course not.”
“ And another thing, Theresa.” Her voice like acid, Jessica was emphasizing her words with a tongue that flicked across her upper lip and disappeared. “You won't win against me; you won't take my job here. I'm too good at what I do.”
O'Rourke pointedly pressed the recorder attachment to her desk to off. Then she came around the desk and stood toe-to-toe with Jessica. “Dr. Archer telephoned Leamy when he finished with me, and-”
“ At your urging, no doubt.”
“ Archer didn't need any urging. Regardless of Archer, it's just this simple, Dr. Coran: you didn't get the collar in New York; you weren't involved in the manhunt to the extent you should have been. Very likely because you were too busy sleeping with Captain Rychman.”
Jessica's jaw stiffened but she refrained from saying another word or raising the hand that so wanted to slap O'Rourke.
“ You're not being credited with the end of the Claw case, Jessica, and you got Otto killed in Chicago. Facts like that have a way of haunting a person's career. Careers here rise and fall on the basis of one's most recent case, not yesterday's laurels. Fact of life here… what have you done for me lately, Dr. Coran? Then there's Matisak…”
“ Matisak?” Jessica's right hand quivered now with a power of its own. Had O'Rourke set her up from the beginning, anxious from the start to see her crumble under the physical and psychological strain of dealing with men like Sims and Matisak? O'Rourke had known from the beginning that Jessica believed O'Rourke's leadership was far inferior to Otto Boutine's as head of the division. It seemed a particularly nasty way to clean house, but then O'Rourke had proven nasty in the past, especially to other women whom she felt threatened by.
“ Yes, he claims you've failed to listen to him-”
“ I don't believe I'm hearing this.”
“- that you've been uncooperative and extremely rude, and-”
“ For Christ's sake, O'Rourke!”
“- and the fact you entered his cell with a gun hidden on your person, Dr. Coran. Very bad… very bad form. That alone-”
“ I deny it all! All the fucking crap that Gabriel Arnold, your penitentiary pimp, has told you. And his word will not hold up against mine! Now, I'm leaving before I actually do commit a punishable act.”
Jessica made it to the door but hadn't cleared it before hearing O'Rourke say, “Well, you have regained some of your old strength, dear, haven't you?”
Jessica had kept going, afraid if she did not clear the building, she'd return and knock O'Rourke on her ass.
Time was crawling by. To keep everything completely objective and unimpeachable, she had turned the Emmons examination over to J.T. and a team that was unlikely to miss the smallest hair or fiber on the slate-white tissues of the body.
And so she had gone home.
How she now missed Alan.
Would she soon be missing J.T.?
She felt alone in her comforting little world, snuggled deeply into the cushions of her soft, beige couch, staring up at the walls, the silence, taunting time and memory, beating out a rhythm not unlike that of her saddened heart. It was not just her loneliness that was poisoning her homecoming, but her fear. She realized now that all this time, since she had recovered from the attack on her by Matisak, O'Rourke had played on her weaknesses and Jessica had become afraid not only of her own decisions but those of others, and of O'Rourke's in particular. O'Rourke held sway over her and had been trying to use her like a dangling marionette first here and then there. It had been O'Rourke who pushed her into taking the Claw case, and she had manipulated her to the interviews with Matisak long before this, and urged her into Gerald Ray Sims' cell, all the time knowing what it must be doing to her, eroding away her mental stability, washing away her strength.
And like a weak and bullied kitten, Jessica had allowed this to continue. No wonder J.T. seemed so estranged. J.T. didn't know her anymore, didn't recognize her, because she had changed long before J.T. had. The tragic effect was that their relationship had also been eroding away. She wondered if it could yet be saved.
In the past, J.T. would never have doubted her actions; in fact, he had always been her chief advocate and champion. The memories flooded in. Cheering her, J.T. was always there to dig in and learn from her actions, to become a principal player in her sometimes dubious attacks and feints, never quite fully apprised of her motivations, and yet trusting her on faith alone, the way Alan Rychman had come to trust her, she thought. John Thorpe had never questioned her ability as a super-sleuth M.E. who worked hard to please the memory of her father.
But she had let J.T. down somewhere along the way. She had let herself down, and the wolves were waiting on the periphery of her waning strength, prepared to tear her apart. And J.T.? Was he among them?
Theresa O'Rourke was her division head now, and Jessica must answer to her, must work with her instead of around her as she had in the past, but she must first face her down, show the woman what she was made of. Until now O'Rourke had only known the wounded Jessica Coran. It might take some doing, and the confrontation might end in her dismissal, but on her way out, she would see that J.T. got her position. No one was more qualified.