The doctor narrowed his eyes in thought. “Schizophrenics rarely display aggressive or violent behavior, in fact, no more than the average person. There are exceptions, of course, but generally any display of aberrant behavior is often due to the subject’s background and other environmental factors.”

“And in Adam’s case?”

The doctor thought a moment longer. “In Adam’s case, in addition to schizophrenia and all that involves, he occasionally displays psychopathic and sociopathic tendencies.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, on occasion, he shows abnormal or violent social behavior combined with a lack of conscience.”

“And that’s what led him to murder?” Jake asked.

“Partially, yes, although extremes like that wouldn’t necessarily be evident unless he already had a tendency in that direction.”

“In other words,” Jake said, “he’s already crazy, and all those big words make him crazier?”

The doctor chuckled. “I wouldn’t put it exactly like that, but in layman’s terms, it’s a fair interpretation.”

“So how can all this help me find him?” Jake said.

“I’m afraid it might not be all that helpful. Adam is highly intelligent but unpredictable.” The doctor sighed. “What makes this case disturbing is that Adam, when behaving normally, is rather a likable young man. He seems to be in a struggle with himself, and I believe that’s why he doesn’t remember his actions on occasion. He has periods with either no memory, or a hazy recollection of certain events. His subconscious is at work, suppressing his memory of incidents abhorrent to his normal personality.”

“He’s a complex person,” Jake said.

“A very complex personality, indeed.”

“What about medications?” Jake asked. “Other than what he now takes, is there nothing different he can try?”

The doctor shook his head, his shock of blond drooping. He brushed it back again. “Adam hasn’t responded favorably to any of the usual medications.” He raised his hands as if in surrender. “We’ve tried everything as well as a variety of combinations. His situation has worsened since his father died, and there seem to be no answers.”

“According to Detective Corning, there’re some new, more aggressive medications,” Jake said.

“Yes, there are, but they’re costly, and as I’m sure you’re aware, the Thorburns are not in the best financial position. Additionally, there’s no guarantee he would respond favorably to any of them.”

Jake looked at the doctor, struggling to find an answer in all he heard. He was getting a lot of information but didn’t see how any of it could help him find Adam Thorburn.

“I understand Adam likes solitude,” Jake said. “During your sessions with him, did he give you any indication of places he liked to go to be alone?”

“He wanders off occasionally,” the doctor said. “But for the most part, he prefers to stay home, generally in the isolation and privacy of his bedroom. His withdrawal has been more pronounced recently—again, since his father died—and I believe it also stems from his childhood history of being bullied for being different.”

“What significance do roses have to him?”

“He loves growing roses. It brings him peace. To him, it’s the only source of beauty in an otherwise ugly world.”

“Dr. Zalora, did Adam ever mention any love interest to you?” Jake asked. “Anyone specifically?”

The doctor shook his head. “He often expressed his desire to find someone, but he also realized that in his condition it was impossible. It’s a source of sadness for him.”

“His first murder was Nina White,” Jake said. “The counselor at North Richmond High. The police have a theory Adam had a secret crush on her and killed her because he couldn’t have her.” Jake paused. “Do you think that’s a possibility?”

“I can’t say, either personally or professionally, but it’s a possibility. I’ve been unable to find out what goes on in Adam’s mind when he’s in an aggressive mood.”

“The second victim was a janitor at Millfield Elementary School, the primary school Adam attended,” Jake said. “Do you see any significance in that?”

The doctor pursed his lips a moment. “Adam hated school, and he might be taking his hatred out on anyone connected with school. They might not have been targeted personally, just by association.” Dr. Zalora looked at his Rolex.

Jake leaned forward. “Anything else you can add that might help find Adam?”

“I think we’ve just about covered it.” Dr. Zalora stood. “I have to rush. I have other appointments.” He came out from behind the desk and held out his hand. “Please let me know if you find Adam.”

Jake stood and shook hands with the doctor. “Thank you for your time. I’ll be sure to let you know if I have anything positive to report.”

Dr. Zalora smiled politely as Jake turned and left the office. The doctor had given him a lot to think about. It helped him understand more about what they faced, but he wasn’t sure how any of it would lead to finding Adam Thorburn before he killed another innocent person.

Chapter 25

Wednesday, 1:21 p.m.

ANNIE HAD ARRANGED to interview the Thorburns’ neighbor, Mabel Shorn, at 1:30 in the afternoon. Virginia Thorburn’s closest friend promised she would be available at that time, no problem, she was home most of the day anyway.

Number 114 Mill Street wasn’t much different from the dwellings surrounding it—a small clapboard house, cheaply built and rundown. Annie pulled her Escort into the gravel driveway, stopping in front of a detached single-car garage, built many years ago to match the design of the house. The wooden garage door sagged and likely hadn’t been opened for years.

She picked her handbag up off the passenger seat and stepped out, moving around the rear of the car to the side door. The inner door was open, and the aluminum screen door rattled as she tapped on it. A woman got up from the kitchen table, leaving her cigarette in the ashtray, and came to the door.

Mabel Shorn was scrawny, all skin and bones, her track pants barely held up by her small, bony hips. Smoke trailed from her thin mouth as she pushed the door open. She brushed back a strand of long dyed-red hair and motioned with her head for Annie to come in.

Annie stepped inside. The woman had already moved back to her spot at the table, reaching for her smoke. She took a drag as Annie pulled back a hard wooden chair and sat down, setting her handbag on a free spot on the crowded table.

She held out her hand. “I’m Annie Lincoln.”

The woman gave Annie’s hand a weak shake and blew smoke in the air. “Mabel,” she said, her voice hoarse from too many cigarettes. “Want coffee?”

“No, thanks.”

“Want a beer?”

Annie shook her head and Mabel shrugged. She picked up her coffee mug, downed the last swallow, and set it down with a clunk, pushing it back into the rest of the mess on the table.

“Police were already here yesterday,” Mabel said. “Asked me a bunch of questions about Adam. Couldn’t tell them much.” She shrugged. “Not much to tell.”

“I realize that,” Annie said. “But thanks for seeing me anyway.”

“Might as well. I’m not busy.” Mabel turned her head and gave a loud yawn, sucking her cheeks deeper into her already gaunt face. She dug around on the table, flipped a magazine aside, and found a business card. “Detective Hank Corning was here.” She waved the card. “Said I should call him if I think of anything.”

“I know Detective Corning,” Annie said. “He’s a good cop.”

“Seems like it,” Mabel said. She gave a lopsided grin and tossed the card on the table. “Nice looking, too.”

Annie smiled, paused, and cleared her throat. “As I told you on the phone, we were hired to find Adam Thorburn.”

“It’s a bit of a shame, that is,” Mabel said. “Doesn’t seem like the type to go off and do something like that.”