"The guys on Five do it all the time," said Milo.
"And rarely succeed," I said. "But Peake's a genuine schizophrenic. For him, it wouldn't be a matter of either-or, it'd be the intensity of his psychosis. At an optimal level, it's possible Thorazine made him more lucid. Clear enough to be able to cooperate in the escape. Crimmins could have played a role, too. He was a significant figure in Peake's life. Who knows what fantasies his showing up on the ward could have stimulated."
"The good old days," said Milo. "Like some damn reunion. And once Crimmins got here, he'd have seen right away how rinky-dink the system was. Pure fun. Betcha he had keys to every door within weeks. We know he floated overtime on Peake's ward. Meaning he could wear his badge, drop in whenever he wanted, arouse no suspicion." He shook his head. "Peake must've seen it as salvation."
"Crimmins dominated him before, knows he's passive," I said. "Slips him a knife. No one bothers to check Peake's room for weapons because he's been nonfunctional for sixteen years. Crimmins cues Peake that the time's right; Peake sneaks up on Dollard, cuts his throat, leaves on the staff elevator. Dollard was a perfect target: lax about the rules. And if he was involved in a drug scam with Crimmins, that would be another reason to hit him. You asked Swig if Dollard had access to the drug cabinet, so you were thinking the same thing. Or maybe Crimmins sneaked in and did the cutting himself. Showed up on the ward during the staff meeting, knowing he had only Dollard to contend with."
"What drug scam?" said Banks.
Milo explained the theory, the cars in the driveway that had bedeviled Marie Sinclair. "What's better than pharmaceutical grade? Dollard's the inside man, Crimmins works the street. That's why Dollard got so antsy when we kept coming back. Idiot was afraid his little side biz would be blown. He shows his anxiety to Crimmins, tips Crimmins that he can't be counted on to stay cool, and signs his own death warrant. Crimmins has a history of tying up loose ends, and Bollard's starting to unravel."
"This," said Banks, "is… colorful."
"Lacking facts, I embroider," said Milo.
"Whatever the details," I said, "the best guess is that Crimmins managed to get Peake down in that elevator. I think he entered the hospital grounds tonight through that cut in the fence, made his way across the rear yard, maybe hid in one of the annexes. Easy enough, no one uses them. Coming in through the foothills wouldn't be much of a problem. Crimmins used to race motocross. He could've brought a dirt bike or an off-roader."
"Where does your vie come in?" said Banks. "The Argent woman?"
Milo said, "She could've come across the drug scam. Or found out something from Peake she wasn't supposed to."
"Or, she was part of the drug scam."
Silence.
"Why," said De la Tone, "did Peake start prophesying?"
"Because he's still psychotic," I said. "Crimmins made the mistake of divulging what he was going to do, figuring Peake would keep his mouth shut. Don't forget, Peake's been mum for sixteen years about the Ardullo murders. But recently something-probably the attention Claire paid him-opened Peake up. He got more verbal. Started to see himself as a victim-a martyr. When I brought up the Ardullos, he assumed a crucifixion pose. That could make him a threat to Crimmins. Maybe the role Crimmins has hi mind for him is victim."
"Not if he's the one sliced that woman up on the I-Five."
"Not necessarily," I said. "In this case monster and victim aren't mutually exclusive."
Banks ran his hands down his lapels, looked up at the helicopters.
"One more thing," said Milo. "That fence wasn't cut tonight. There was some oxidation around the edges."
"Well rehearsed," I said. "Just like any other production.
That's the way Crimmins sees life: one big show. He could've come anytime, set the stage."
"What a joke," said Banks. "Place like this and they take keys home."
"Not that it matters," said De la Torre. To Milo: "You ever seen a maximum-security prison that wasn't full of dope and weapons? Other than my mother-in-law's house."
"Can't stop inhuman nature," said Banks. "So now Crimmins and Peake are heading back to the hometown? Why?"
"The only thing I can think of is more theater. A script element. What I don't get is why Crimmins would leave that woman on the freeway. It's almost as if he's directing attention to Treadway. So maybe he's deteriorating. Or I'm totally wrong-the escape's a one-man operation and Peake's fooled everyone. He's a calculating monster who craves blood, is out to get it any way he can."
Banks studied his notes. "You're saying the Ardullo thing might've been financial revenge. Why kill the kids?"
"You ruin my family, I ruin yours. Primitive but twisted justice. Derrick might have planned it, but at twenty he lacked the will and the stomach to carry out the massacre himself. Then Peake entered the picture and everything clicked: the village lunatic, living right there on the Ardullo ranch. Derrick and Cliff started spending time with Peake, became his suppliers for porn, dope, booze, glue, paint. Psychopaths lack insight about themselves, but they're good at zeroing in on other people's pathology, so maybe Derrick spotted the seeds of violence in Peake, put himself in a position to exploit it. And it was a no-risk situation: if Peake never acted, who'd ever know the brothers had prodded him? Even if he said something, who'd believe him? But he did follow through, and it paid off, big-time: Carson Crimmins was able to sell his land; the family got rich and moved to Florida, where the boys got to be playboys for a while. That's one big dose of positive reinforcement. That's why I called Peake a major influence on Crimmins."
"Crimmins didn't worry about Peake blabbing back then," said Milo, "but now it's different. Someone's listening."
"Maybe Claire was involved in the drug scam," I said, "but unless we find evidence of that, my bet is she died because she'd learned from Peake that he hadn't acted alone. And she believed him. Believed in him. Because what she was really after was rinding out something redeeming about her brother. Symbolically."
"Symbolically," said De la Torre. "If she suspected Crimmins, what was she doing getting in that Corvette?"
"Maybe she got involved with Crimmins before Peake started talking. Crimmins held himself out as a cinematic hotshot, a struggling independent filmmaker trying to plumb the depths of madness or some nonsense like that. He calls his outfit Thin Line-as hi walking the border between sanity and insanity. Maybe he asked her to be a technical adviser. The guy was a con; I can see her falling for it."
"Something else," said Milo. "If Peake's blabbing to Claire, he's telling her about Derrick Crimmins. The guy she knows is George Orson."
That made my heart stop. "You're right. Claire could've told Crimmins everything. Fed him the very information that signed her death warrant."
"Eye wounds," said Milo. "Like the Ardullo kids. Only he sees. No one else." He rubbed his face. "Or he just likes carving people's eyes."
"Evil, evil, evil," said Banks, in a soft tight voice. "And no idea where to find him."
The helicopters' sky-dance had shifted westward, white beams sweeping the foothills and whatever lay behind them.
"Waste of fuel," said De la Torre. "He's got to be on the road."
Chapter 35
Milo and the sheriffs did more cell-phone work. Better suits and they might have looked like brokers on the make. The end result was more nothing: no sightings of Peake.
Milo looked at his watch. "Ten-fifty. If any reporters are playing with the scanner, this could make the news in ten minutes."