What kind of incident might have pushed Donny Ray into such predatory killing behavior that he can’t recall? The repetitive rounds of sexual abuse would certainly qualify. And being abandoned in public afterward, wearing his dead sister’s dress, piled one trauma on top of the other, which would be more than enough to push him over the edge.
But how would the effects of that experience express themselves? Is becoming a serial killer a guaranteed outcome? I’m not sure yet, but my mind is trending toward the idea that the other victim in this—Donny Ray’s sister—may be able to tell me.
I look to the Internet and search the news coverage of Miranda Smith’s disappearance. The first thing that pops up is a school photo of her. I zoom in and see that, much like Donny Ray, she was positively striking in appearance. Same raven-colored hair, same well-defined features. But Miranda’s eyes were mirror opposites of Donny Ray’s: dark as night, yet in their own way, just as intense.
I begin reading an article and learn that she disappeared on her way to school one morning.
Wait a minute.
I flip back to the notes on Donny Ray’s last victim, Jamey Winslow, who also went missing on her way to school. After pulling up the news story about her murder, I at first think it’s the wrong link. Then my stomach seizes.
No way.
Jamey Winslow bore a remarkable resemblance to Miranda Smith.
I bring up more stories about Donny Ray’s other victims, and one by one, with each photo, my mind whirls into a tailspin. Every one of them resembles Miranda Smith—some not as markedly but all with the same color hair and dark, intense eyes—each disappearing on her way to school.
Each wearing a blue dress.
How did I miss these connections while reading through the files? Then I remember . . . I’d planned to go back and look at the girls’ photos but got sidetracked when Donny Ray’s juvenile record was missing. Then his attorney was missing, and after that, so too was Dr. Ammon.
I never saw these images.
My thoughts fly into reverse and land on an earlier session with Donny Ray. How he seemed lost in thought, staring at that picture on the wall. A picture that happened to feature a little girl wearing a blue dress. He wasn’t just lost in thought—he was lost inside his own mind.
A clear pattern: relentless and consistent layers of abuse, followed by behavior that mirrors it in a most striking and disturbing way.
A causal relationship.
Dr. Ammon discounted Donny Ray’s inability to recall murdering Jamey Winslow because his head injury proved inconsequential. And while Dr. Philips was definitely on to something, any progress went flying out the window along with her credibility after the hospital sex scandal broke. But the bottom line is that Donny Ray Smith may be telling the truth about having no ability to recall killing Jamey.
Possible diagnosis: dissociative amnesia, brought on not by a head injury, but instead by acute and repetitive psychological trauma.
50
Don’t tell Adam.
“What are you talking about? We’re working this case together. Of course I’m going to tell him.”
You cannot. He’s part of the Big Plan, him and his bootlicking disciples—they’re all working to destroy you.
“What?” I pull open the door.
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Adam says, frowning at me from his desk. “I just heard you called a security incident down on Alpha Twelve about an hour ago? For no apparent reason?”
“What do you mean, no reason? Of course there was a reason.”
Motioning for me to close the door, he says, “We need to talk.”
I grab a seat across from him. “When I got there, all the patients were wandering in and out of their rooms and through the hallways. Not one locked door, not a single security officer in sight. It was the most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen. So of course I called an incident.”
Adam’s eyes are hazy with doubt as they search mine.
“What is it?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”
“Chris, the rooms in Alpha Twelve are never locked, unless a patient is under special order.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I laugh but there’s no amusement in it. “Of course they are!”
He shakes his head. “That would be illegal.”
“But it’s a safety precaution. They’re not supposed to . . . Wait. You think I just made up this policy?”
“I’m not saying that.” But his expression states otherwise.
I stare at him for about five seconds. He stares back at me, and sticky tension stretches between us.
“Anyway, I’m sure security has the whole mess under control by now, so we’re good there.”
But judging by the crease in Adam’s brow, my assurance offers little relief.
“I’ve got something much more important to tell you,” I quickly move on, “something huge that could blow Donny Ray’s case right out of the water. We just had a breakthrough. I’ve found the trauma trigger that Philips missed. Donny Ray has a pathological need to repeatedly murder his sister, then make her disappear. I strongly believe that’s what caused his dissociative amnesia when Jamey went missing.”
Adam’s eyes flutter.
I start telling him the history of Donny Ray’s abuse, along with an explanation about the picture on the wall of a girl wearing a blue dress. How every victim resembles Miranda. He shakes his head as I continue, but it’s hard to tell whether he’s following me.
“So here’s how the events might have played out.” I lean in toward him. “He sees a girl who looks like his sister, who also happens to be wearing a blue dress, probably the same color dress his father made him wear.”
“You say probably.”
“Well, we weren’t at that level of detail in the interview. He was racked with deep emotional pain, and I wasn’t able to ask him about it.”
“Okay, go on . . . ,” Adam says and starts twisting the ring on his finger.