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“Yes.”
“And the younger one was nine months pregnant.”
“I know all this.”
“So you know that your mother picked up those two women on the highway. She drives them thirty miles away, to a shed in the woods. Crushes their skulls with a tire iron. And then she does something surprisingly-weirdly-logical. She drives to a service station and fills a can with gas. Returns to the shed and sets it on fire, with the two bodies inside.” O’Do
“I find it sickening.”
“Yes, but on some level, maybe you’re feeling something else, something you don’t even want to acknowledge. That you’re intrigued by these actions, not just as an intellectual puzzle. There’s something about it that fascinates you, even excites you.”
“The way it obviously excites you?”
O’Do
“Two days ago, I didn’t know who my mother was. Now I’m trying to come to grips with the truth. I’m trying to understand-”
“Who you are?” O’Do
Maura met her gaze. “I know who I am.”
“Are you sure?” O’Do
“What makes you think I would?”
“You are Amalthea’s daughter.”
“I’m an accident of biology. She didn’t raise me.”
O’Do
Maura remembered what Rizzoli had told her about Dr. O’Do
“I came to talk about Amalthea,” said Maura.
“Isn’t that who we’ve been discussing?”
“According to MCI-Framingham, you’ve been to see her at least a dozen times. Why so often? Surely not for her benefit.”
“As a researcher, I’m interested in Amalthea. I want to understand what drives people to kill. Why they take pleasure from it.”
“You’re saying she did it for pleasure?”
“Well, do you know why she killed?”
“She’s clearly psychotic.”
“The vast majority of psychotics don’t kill.”
“But you do agree that she is?”
O’Do
“You don’t sound sure. Even after all the visits you’ve made?”
“There’s more to your mother than just psychosis. And there’s more to her crime than meets the eye.”
“What do you mean?”
“You say you already know what she did. Or at least, what the prosecution claims she did.”
“The evidence was solid enough to convict her.”
“Oh, there was plenty of evidence. Her license plate caught on camera at the service station. The women’s blood on the tire iron. Their wallets in the trunk. But you probably haven’t heard about this.” O’Do
Maura opened the folder and saw a photo of a white sedan with a Massachusetts license plate.
“That’s the car Amalthea was driving,” said O’Do
Maura turned to the next page. It was a summary of the fingerprint evidence.
“There were a number of prints found inside that car,” said O’Do
“A fourth set?”
“It’s right there, in that report. They were found on the glove compartment. On both doors, and on the steering wheel. Those prints were never identified.”
“It doesn’t mean anything. Maybe a mechanic worked on her car and left behind his fingerprints.”
“A possibility. Now look at the hair and fiber report.”
Maura turned to the next page and saw that blond hairs had been found on the back seat. The hairs matched Theresa and Nikki Wells. “I see nothing surprising about this. We know the victims were in the car.”
“But you’ll notice that none of their hairs appear in the front seat. Think about it. Two women stranded at the side of the road. Someone pulls over, offers to give them a lift. And what do the sisters do? They both climb into the backseat. It seems a little rude, doesn’t it? Leaving the driver all alone up in front. Unless…”
Maura looked up at her. “Unless someone else was already sitting in that front seat.”
O’Do
“She hasn’t told you?”
“Not his name.”
Maura stared at her. “His?”
“I’m only guessing the sex. But I do believe that someone was in the car with Amalthea at the moment she spotted those two women on the road. Someone helped her control those victims. Someone who was strong enough to help her stack those bodies in the shed and helped her set them on fire.” O’Do
“All your visits to Amalthea-they weren’t even about her.”
“Insanity doesn’t interest me. Evil does.”
Maura stared at her, thinking: Yes, it would. You enjoy getting close enough to brush against it, sniff it. Amalthea isn’t what attracts you. She’s only the go-between, the one who can introduce you to the real object of your desire.
“A partner,” said Maura.
“We don’t know who he is, or what he looks like. But your mother knows.”
“Then why won’t she say his name?”
“That’s the question-why is she hiding him? Is she afraid of him? Is she protecting him?”
“You don’t know if this person even exists. All you have are some unidentified fingerprints. And a theory.”
“More than a theory. The Beast is real.” O’Do
In the silence that followed, Maura heard the sound of her own heart, like the quickening beat of a drum. She swallowed. Said, “We’re talking about a schizophrenic. A woman who’s probably having auditory hallucinations.”
“Or she’s talking about someone real.”
“The Beast?” Maura managed a laugh. “A personal demon, maybe. A monster from her nightmares.”
“Who leaves behind fingerprints.”
“That didn’t seem to impress the jury.”
“They ignored that evidence. I was at that trial. I watched the prosecution build its case against a woman so psychotic, even the prosecution had to know she wasn’t responsible for her actions. But she was the easy target, the easy conviction.”
“Even though she was clearly insane.”
“Oh, no one doubted she was psychotic and hearing voices. Those voices might’ve screamed at you to crush a woman’s skull, to burn her body, but the jury still assumes you know right from wrong. Amalthea was a prosecutor’s slam dunk, so that’s what they did. They got it wrong. They missed him.” O’Do