Chapter 105
I WAS FEELING strangely emotional and vulnerable, and I guess, maybe, alive these days.
It was both a good and a bad thing.
I had breakfast with Nana Mama at around five thirty or so almost every morning. Then I jogged to my office, changed clothes, and started my sessions as early as six thirty.
Kim Stafford was my first patient on Mondays and Thursdays. It was always a hard thing to keep personal feelings out of the sessions, at least for me, or maybe I was just out of practice. On the other hand, some of my colleagues had always struck me as too clinical, too reserved and distant. What was any patient, any human being, supposed to make of that? Oh, it’s okay if I have the affect of a turnip; I’m a therapist.
I needed to do this my way, with warmth at times, with lots of feeling and compassion rather than empathy; I needed to break the rules, to be unorthodox. Like confronting Jason Stemple at his station house and trying to punch that scum’s lights out. That’s what I call professional.
I had a break in my schedule until noon, so I decided to check in with Monnie Donnelley at Quantico. She was doing some research on a theory of mine about the Butcher. I hadn’t said much more than hello, when Monnie interrupted. “I have something for you, Alex. I think you’re going to like this. It’s your idea anyway, your theory.”
Monnie then told me that she’d used my notes and tracked down news about Sullivan’s wife through a mob soldier who was in the Witness Protection Program and now living in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.
“I followed the trail you set up, and you were right on. It led me to a guy who was at Sullivan’s wedding, which was small, as you might expect. The pal from Brooklyn you told me about, Anthony Mullino, he was there. Apparently, Sullivan didn’t want many people to know about his private life. His own mother wasn’t invited, and his father was dead, as you know.”
“Yeah, killed by his son and a couple of pals. What did you find out about Sullivan’s wife?”
“Well, it’s interesting stuff, not what you’d expect, either. She’s originally from Colts Neck, New Jersey, and she was a first-grade teacher before she met Sullivan. How about that? Salvatore Pistelli, the Witness Protection guy, said she was a sweet girl. Said Sullivan was looking for a good mother for his kids. Touching, huh, Alex? Our psycho hit man has a soft spot. The wife’s name was Caitlin Haney. Her family’s still living in Colts Neck.”
That same day, we had a tap set up on the phones of Caitlin Sullivan’s parents’ place. Also on a sister who lived in Toms River, New Jersey, and a brother who was a dentist in Ridgewood.
I had some hope again. Maybe we could close this case after all and bring down the Butcher.
Maybe I would see him again and take a little bow myself.