12th of Never

shouted, “Fish! Let her go or I’ll blow your brains to the moon.”
    I hoped like hell that he would obey because I didn’t know if my aim was good enough to take him out before he killed his hostage. Luckily, I didn’t have to find out.
    The human shield broke free. Fish bolted into the street toward oncoming traffic. I ran, too, yelling, “Stop or I’ll shoot.”
    He must’ve heard the conviction in my voice.
    He stopped running, and when I told him to drop to the ground and interlace his hands behind his neck, he did it. He laughed at me when I kicked the knife into the gutter. When Jacobi cuffed him, Fish told Jacobi he was so fat he was headed for a heart attack.
    Frankly, I couldn’t believe what Fish looked like in person. I had to shake my head and reorder my thoughts. But never mind his appearance—he was down. The FBI took him into custody and we were all jubilant.
    It was frigid and I was shaking from the cold. It was one of the best moments of my life.

Chapter 56
    THE NIGHT WE captured Randolph Fish, Ronald Parker, special agent in charge of the FBI’s San Francisco field office, said that Fish would be more responsive to a female interviewer than to the men working the case.
    “He’s all about control,” Parker said. “He’s like a drug addict, and his drug of choice is dominating women. He’ll try to get under your skin, Lindsay. If there’s any chance of getting Sandra Brody back, you’ll have to get under his.”
    I interrogated Randolph Fish for fifteen hours on each of three consecutive days. I used every interview technique I knew. I threatened him. I negotiated with him. When these methods failed, I shut off the camera and I threw the man to the floor. I kicked him nine times, once for each of his victims.
    Fish laughed and told me what a cute piece I was when I was mad. He had gotten under my skin after all, and he never told me or anyone else what happened to Sandra Brody.
    Fish was tried, convicted on five counts of homicide in the first degree, and sent to the federal prison at Atwater, where he was locked in a nice private cell.
    A year later, he was on the way to the infirmary for shooting pains in his chest when a riot broke out and a guard was shot. Fish made a break for an exit—and was clubbed across the back of the head.
    He slipped into a persistent coma and was handcuffed to a bed in the prison wing of a nearby hospital, where he had been for the last two years.
    I’d long hoped that Randolph Fish would wake up with his memory intact. There were four families who wanted to know where their daughters were buried, and nine families who wanted to watch Randolph Fish die in the chair.
    Now I gripped the phone and said to Brady, “What’s his condition?”
    “He spoke in full sentences,” Brady said. “He told the warden he’ll take the feds to the missing bodies if he gets a deal, and if he gets to talk to you. Do you want in on this, Boxer? Ron Parker asked for your assistance.”
    I didn’t want to say no to Ron Parker.
    “I’ll do it,” I told Brady, “but I can’t make it tomorrow. I just can’t.”
    “Fish could go back into a coma. It happens, you know. Parker’s not going to wait,” he said.
    “That’s okay.”
    “Are you all right, Lindsay?”
    “I’m absolutely terrific. Joe and I were just saying that these are the best days of our lives.”
    “Uh-huh. Go feed your baby. I’ll ask Jacobi to call Parker. See what he can do.”

Chapter 57
    JOE, JULIE, AND I were in Dr. Gordon’s office promptly at nine the next morning. I looked down into my baby’s sweet face, hoping for a smile, some little sign that would make me say, “She’s fine.”
    “I’m not so happy with the results of the blood test,” Dr. Gordon said.
    I tried to read her inscrutable face. I realized that Dr. Gordon was younger than I am. And for the first time, that really worried me. Did she have enough experience to help Julie? Was she the best doctor in the world?
    “What about her blood tests? What’s wrong?”
    “Her white blood cells are abnormal in shape.”
    Abnormal? I grabbed the desk with both hands, as if to stop myself from lifting off and rocketing away from the planet. I had never heard more terrifying words in my life.
    “What do you mean by ‘abnormal’?” I said.
    Joe shielded the baby from me and from what the doctor was saying. He said, softly, “What’s the worst-case scenario?”
    Dr. Gordon said, “Let’s not go to worst cases.