The Competition - [79]

“Did the doctor believe there was a suicide risk?” Nick asked.

Bonnie swallowed and nodded. “But he also said it was something the medication and therapy would alleviate. That and time. The doctor felt very sure Logan’s problems would be resolved over time.”

“That must have been very hard for you,” Nick said.

Bonnie teared up. “The poor little guy was giving himself fits.” Then she looked out the living room window and drifted off. No doubt to a happier time, before the “poor little guy” turned into a vicious killer.

“And was the doctor right?” Nick asked. “Did the therapy work?”

Bonnie nodded. “Yes, therapy and the medication. He seemed to calm down considerably.”

Shit. I could see it coming already. A mental defense: the drugs made me do it. “Do you remember what kind?” I asked.

Bonnie squinted at the floor for a few moments. “Luv…something. Luvox? Was that it?” She nodded. “Yes, I believe that’s it. But after about a year, the doctor said he was over the hump and took him off it.”

Nick gave me a look that said he’d take it from there. “Then he wasn’t taking anything by the time he got into middle school?”

“Oh, no. By then he was certainly not taking it anymore.” Bonnie gave a heavy sigh that seemed to deflate her whole body. She was worn down to a nub. “Now I remember. It’s Dr. Bingham. Jerry Bingham.”

Nick asked a few more questions to make sure Bonnie wasn’t sitting on any other information, and then we left and huddled at Nick’s car.

“Thanks for that,” Bailey said to him.

He tipped an imaginary hat with a smile. “Always happy to help out lovely ladies.” Then he looked back at the Jarvis house, his expression somber. “You know, if I met her on the street, I’d never figure her for the mother of a maniac like this.”

True that.

“So how’s that nephew of yours doing?” I asked. Nick looked puzzled. “Your sister’s kid, the one who had mental problems.”

Nick gave a little smile. “Always wished I had a sister.” Nick saluted and took off. We got into Bailey’s car, and I called Dr. Michael to ask if he’d heard of Luvox.

“Of course. It’s a preferred drug for OCD. Just a general question, I assume?”

“Right. A friend of mine asked me about it yesterday.” I had warned the doctors not to mention this case on the phone. “What are the contraindications?”

“There have been some studies that show it may cause suicidal ideation, depression, and violence.”

“Even if he’s not still taking it? Our information is that he stopped taking it years ago,” I said.

“It’s possible. The long-term effects are not well documented.”

I asked Michael if we could drop by. I had more questions, but I couldn’t ask them on the phone.

“Probably better if I meet you at the station,” he said. His office was just ten minutes from the Police Administration Building. “There was a shooting across the street this morning, and the reporters are still floating around.”

“We’ll meet you in the lobby,” I said.

When Michael arrived, we took him straight to an interview room.

“Do you know of a psychologist or psychiatrist by the name of Jerry Bingham?” I asked.

“I do,” Michael said. “He’s a good guy. He was Logan’s doctor?” I nodded. “I’m sure he’d have useful information. But of course…”

“Yeah.” Dr. Bingham couldn’t tell us a damn thing. The information was all privileged. “Would Logan have any way of getting his hands on more Luvox without his parents finding out?”

“Well, I’m not sure why he’d want to. It’s not exactly a hallucinogenic, though I guess you never know.” Michael sighed. “It would have to be under the table. Maybe he could find it online-”

“Or maybe he could talk the doctor into passing him free samples.”

“I really wouldn’t expect any doctor to do that,” Michael said. “Especially with a minor. And even if he did, I doubt he’d have continued to do so over any extended period of time.”

But he couldn’t rule out the possibility. We wouldn’t know for sure until we got to trial.

“Do you have anything more for us on Shane?” Michael asked.

“We’ve got reports on his stint in the Army for you,” Bailey said. “But from what I saw, there’s nothing out of the norm. We’re still digging into his earlier stuff.” Like crazy, actually. But it’d only been two days since we’d identified Shane Dolan as our likely second shooter, and his pre-military history was a little harder to find than we’d expected.

Shane was adopted, no known siblings, and both parents were dead. We hadn’t found his birth parents yet. He hadn’t gone to college, his high school records were archived somewhere-we had unis working on it-and his elementary school records had all been on paper (the school didn’t have digital records when Shane was a kid) and they’d been purged.

Michael frowned. “That’s too bad. What your witnesses have said so far is helpful, but it really only gives us a thumbnail sketch. And there are some…anomalies in terms of Shane being the follower. I have no doubt that Logan chose Fairmont High as their first target. But that doesn’t necessarily mean Shane will let him choose their future targets. The problem is, we don’t know enough about Shane to make even an educated guess about what target he’d choose.” Michael paused. “There’s no indication Shane had any problems in the Army? None at all?”