"That might be a bit harsh-accurate, but harsh." Housmann smiled wryly. "At the very least he was a malignant narcissist. No concept of other people's feelings. I couldn't blame her and I told her so."

"Who?"

"Martin's sister. The articles-at least the cases studies-were libelous."

"So you met Ellen Martin?"

"On a number of occasions, although mostly she called. A few times she did little more than scream at me over the telephone."

"What did she want you to do?"

"Punish Mayfield. Make certain he had no further contact with her brother."

"Did you?"

"I didn't have to, for Mayfield everything came to a head at the same time. There was the other, more pressing unpleasantness."

"Please, I need to know about that."

"Ethically, I shouldn't. After all, that is what we're talking about-a man who let his professional judgment erode, if in fact it was there in the first place."

Barrett opened her mouth.

"But ..." Housmann said raising his hand in front of him. "You put your trust in me, and I'll do the same. What do you want to know?"

"Is it true that he had an affair with a patient?"

"Yes, at least one that we knew of."

"Was he going to lose his license?"

"Not likely, back then, although I would have seen to it that he was terminated from the clinic."

"Who was the woman?" she asked, wondering if it was someone she'd met, or at least knew of, in the forensic system.

Housmann pushed back. He looked hard at Barrett and said nothing.

"Did you know who the woman was?" Barrett repeated.

"I heard you the first time. Yes, I knew her," he admitted. "But now I am in a quandary. You see, everything to this point doesn't have much impact on the living; I don't even see how this relates to the James Martin case. But we've just moved into something trickier."

"Why's that?"

"Well for starters, the woman in question is very much alive. I doubt she'd want this to resurface."

"I thought she was in the system."

"Was ... she was in the system. Before I tell you anything more, I need you to tell me why this is so important."

"I'm not certain," Barrett confessed. "This could be a dead end, but Gordon Mayfield, in his case study-however unethical it might have been-got further with Jimmy Martin than anyone else."

"Because he cheated and used Amytal," Housmann said.

"Yes."

"That was Gordon in a nutsh.e.l.l. The fastest line between two points-and if morals stood in the way he'd just go through them. But you were saying ..."

"Mayfield not only discovered what Jimmy was doing in Nicole Foster's apartment, he also got to a good piece of the why."

"I still don't see what that has to do with knowing the name of the woman Mayfield was s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g."

"I think that Jimmy had something to do with Mayfield's death."

"You need to redo your math; Martin would have still been in Croton when Mayfield jumped. Unless ..."

"Exactly," Barrett said, knowing that the elder psychiatrist had made the logical conclusion. "He had someone else do it for him. He's like a two-headed animal. The only problem is every time one of his heads gets cut off-like Mason Carter-he grows a new one."

"Like the hydra," Housmann commented. "And of course there was his sister. I thought she had the makings of a good slander case against Mayfield. But I also doubted whether she'd bring such a sordid piece of business into court. That was part of Mayfield's gift. He made these excursions into the world of the morally bereft, but he wasn't stupid. He knew that Jimmy Martin would be recognized by anyone familiar with the case. He also figured the family wouldn't do a thing about it, for fear of publicity. But maybe they had other resources. Ellen Martin struck me as a most capable young woman. And now that I think of it, her calls stopped the day that Mayfield jumped ..." he was about to say something further and then stopped.

"Or was pushed," Barrett offered.

"As you say ..."

"The woman who called me tried to disguise her voice. Which makes me think she had reason to believe that I'd recognize her."

"And you think this was the woman Mayfield was involved with?"

"It's possible."

"It is," he admitted. "What will you do if I give you her name?"

"Try to talk with her."

Housmann turned away from Barrett and stared out the windows. "I always thought it was a bad idea."

"What was?"

"Giving her the job."

"I'm not following."

"Of course not. Why do women end up at Croton?" he asked abruptly.

"Because they've committed a violent crime and for whatever reason are found either not competent to stand trial because of mental illness, or they go to court and are found not guilty by reason of ..."

"Not that," he said dismissively. "What kinds of crimes land women in Croton?"

"Crimes of pa.s.sion," she answered. "Is that what you mean?"

"Do better. What separates the men from the women?"

Barrett pictured the faces of women she'd interviewed over the years. "The victim," she finally answered. "They hurt the ones closest to them; typically their husbands, boyfriends, and occasionally their children and parents."

"Right. I often found the women to be far more the victim than the perpetrator."

"Please, Dr. Housmann, I need to know her name."

"Humor me," he said. "I just wanted to be certain that you'd be careful. The woman in question spent a number of years at Croton after accidentally killing her abusive husband. Mayfield worked very hard to have her released. In hindsight I should have known something was up. Gordon Mayfield was no altruist."

"You mentioned giving her a job," Barrett commented. "Where was that job?"

"I think you've figured it out," Housmann answered.

"At the center?"

"Right in one."

"Who is she?"

Housmann brought his hands together and touched his fingertips to his chin, "Marla Dean," he said.

"Marla?"

He nodded. "I knew it was a bad idea, but I couldn't see punishing her for Mayfield's doing, and then when he ... died, I didn't have the heart to fire her. It would have been too complicated, and so ..."

"How long was she at the clinic before Mayfield's death?" Barrett asked.

"A while, certainly more than a year."

"But she would have been at Croton when Jimmy was there?"

"Yes."

"And she would have known who Mayfield's test subjects were?"

"Probably." Housmann sighed, "I think she typed his papers for him, and as you've seen, the case studies were easy to figure out."

"Dr. Housmann," Barrett said, pulling her briefcase on to her lap. "I want to thank you for your time. But I think I should be going."

"Of course," he said, not moving from his chair.

"What is it?" she asked, sensing there was more.

"About a year after Mayfield's death. I got another call from Ellen Martin. She wanted me to try and get her brother released. She was very persuasive, and without coming straight out and offering me a bribe, she informed me that it would be very easy to underwrite my research through a foundation her family financed. A foundation that would never be traced back to her brother. Of course, I declined. Every year or so, I'd get a similar phone call, and my answer was always the same. A year after I retired and Anton had taken over as director, Jimmy Martin obtained his release."

"You think Anton took the offer?" she asked, feeling a pit form in her stomach.

"I couldn't say. I do know that Anton's time is running out; I don't think he'll get tenure. As far as his research goes, it's careful, but it's small in scope and lacks any spark-unlike yours. Ellen Martin's offer would have been difficult to resist."

Barrett said nothing as she took this in, and jagged bits of data clicked into place. It felt as though the floor were dropping out from under her. "I should get going."

"Dr. Conyors ... Barrett?"

"Yes," she was halfway out of her seat.

"Do you have any hard evidence? Anything at all to take to the board?"

"I don't," she admitted.

"That's not good," he shook his head, his expression worried.

"Tell me something I don't know," she said, trying to make light, to not be so afraid.

"You need to drop this case," he said.

"I know ... I can't."

"This could end very badly."

"I have to get him sent back," she replied, but knowing he was right.

"Is there anything I could say that would make you reconsider?"

She shook her head. "He needs to be locked up; he should never have been let out. If I don't do it ..."

He stared at her through the thick, distorting lenses. "I suppose in your position, I'd do the same." He suddenly seemed tired, defeated. "I'll see you out," he raised out of his chair, wincing slightly from having sat so long. As he unlocked his front door, he commented, "I very much enjoyed our talk. If you ever want a sounding board, I hope you'll call."

"Thank you," she said, stepping back onto the liquid-filled mat.

"And Barrett ..."

"Yes?"

"I know that I don't have to say this, but be very careful. And the minute you get the evidence you need, take it to the board and get far away from Jimmy Martin ... and his sister."

TWENTY.

"Marla, could you come in here?" Barrett asked over the telephone.

A breathy voice responded, "Give me a couple minutes, Dr. Conyors."