Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of DM. I do own the ones that I created.
Author's notes: Doctor Gavin Reed appeared in the Season Four episode "Delusions of Murder" (spoilers). Also major references to "Alienated" and minor ones to other eps.
Apologies for the delay in updating. No excuses other than the fact that I've been busy. Thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review.
TRANCE.
Part Twenty-Six.
The man who was currently so occupying Steve's thoughts was completely unaware that there was even a hint of suspicion surrounding him. As the detective had been staring at scratchy monitors, Reed was sitting on the terrace of his rented house, unfolding the newspaper that he had collected a half hour ago. The light of eager anticipation that had shone in his eyes swiftly faded as he scanned the front page.
"RAIL TRAGEDY DEATH TOLL RISES TO SIXTEEN"
Okay, so yes it was big news – important enough to warrant the entire front page; important enough to relegate other news to further inside the publication. With growing impatience, Reed flicked through the entire newspaper – his eyes rapidly scanning every headline.
When that failed to produce the desired result, he went back over it again; scrutinising each page – each article and footnote – in more detail. He knew that he was clutching at straws. The murder of Mark Sloan would definitely warrant more publicity than a mere mention tagged on almost as an afterthought. But he needed to know if his plan had come to fruition. His obsession had driven him for too long and he was left feeling lost and almost bereft – caught in a kind of limbo of uncertainty. He no longer had the vengeance fuelled drive that had sustained him for the last five years – but nor did he have the satisfaction of closure. And, therefore, he couldn't find a way to move on.
He knew there was a strong chance that maybe the deed hadn't been done yet – after all, he had stressed Travis wouldn't act until he was alone with Sloan. But 'maybe' wasn't going to help him to sleep at night. He needed to know for sure.
Heading back into the house, Reed turned on the television – that was kept permanently tuned into the local news station. The news would break on there before the later editions of the broadsheets hit the news-stands. And if that failed to yield results, then he knew a man who would be able to provide him with the answers he craved. Richard Liddell had seemed to have an intimate knowledge of young doctor Travis's every move.
Across the city, Mark blinked his eyes open and was surprised to find that he was alone in his room. Worry briefly clenched in his gut, but then common sense prevailed. They were caught up in an investigation that had, thus far, yielded very little in the way of clues. And seeing as it was Jesse who stood in the very centre of that mystery – who was currently languishing in jail, a place where Mark could never believe he belonged, no matter what the circumstances – he knew exactly what both his son and Amanda would be doing.
Mark fully approved of their absence. They needed to be tracking down the truth – not babysitting him when it was becoming more and more clear that he was going to be fine. But he did momentarily wish for someone to talk to. He'd had an idea – and his ideas always worked better after he had bounced them around with someone for a while. Usually that someone would be Steve, Amanda or Jesse but, at this moment in time, he wouldn't have cared who it was. He just wanted to speak the idea aloud – to give life to it and see if it remained credible.
Moments later his wish was granted as the door swung open. Even better, it was Amanda's beautiful face that peered in at him. Seeing that he was awake, she stepped fully into the room and Mark could see that she held a standard tan file in her hands. His eyes were instantly drawn to it and he knew what it was without having to ask.
"Jesse's blood?" He said the words anyway and the pathologist's returning nod confirmed them.
"There was an unidentified substance in there – one that couldn't be accounted for by either the drugs that we knew about or the alcohol. It was some kind of a compound and there's one anomaly, but I have been able to identify most of its components." She handed him the file, knowing that it would be easier for him to read the information for himself. In all honesty, she didn't think she could stomach saying the words aloud.
Mark plucked his glasses off the bedside table and balanced them on his nose. His eyes had barely scanned the document before he was looking back up at the young pathologist – shock evident on his face.
"Isotretinoin? Diazepam?" He shook his head. "Individually either one of these could increase aggression and violent behaviour. Combined…"
"Not only combined," Amanda told him, grimly. "There's more."
Mark returned his eyes to the page and Amanda knew the exact moment that he came across her final finding. His eyes closed and pained remembrance passed across his features. "Scopolamine," he sighed. "Dear God, not again."
Amanda shared his horror – well remembering the last time that their mutual friend had unknowingly ingested the drug, or at least a drug with similar properties. It had been at the time of his ordeal at the hands of Perris Pharmaceuticals – and had culminated in him drawing a gun on Mark and almost shooting him.
And she hadn't forgotten that she had already drawn comparisons to that time once before – when they had first learned that Jesse was locked up, apparently stinking drunk. She felt tears fill her eyes as she wished that she could have noticed something sooner and spared them all of this.
"How did you know to look for it?" Mark asked her, quietly. He too remembered the incident – of looking into Jesse's wild and paranoid eyes and trying to convince him that he cared about him. He had succeeded in getting through to him on that occasion, why couldn't the same have been true this time?
"I didn't – I was alerted to the isotretinoin by an abnormally high concentration of Vitamin A. Once I'd isolated that, the diazepam seemed like an obvious test to try next. After that… I wasn't specifically looking for scopolamine, but I think… Maybe I had a hunch…"
"You were remembering the last time." Mark smiled gently at her. "It's a good thing you did. Now we have something definite to go on. Those are some very specialist drugs and, as far as I'm aware, Gavin Reed never had a degree in chemistry."
"No, Mark," Amanda corrected him – less concerned about Reed than she was about what a combination of such chemicals could do to Jesse. "These aren't drugs that were administered individually – they're just components of a whole. Unfortunately, that whole had already begun to break up in Jesse's blood stream. We're working in trace amounts here and I still don't think that we've got it all. Something had to provide the base – and something had to make them override basic human nature and take every last shred of free will away from Jesse."
"And that was your anomaly. But this doesn't make sense," Mark murmured. "I'm seeing more in common with Perris Pharmaceuticals than I am Gavin Reed." His eyes fell back to the file and the complexities that currently invaded Jesse's blood. "One thing's for certain – he wasn't working alone. He couldn't have created this drug."
"But Perris Pharmaceuticals are ancient history," Amanda put in.
"I know," Mark mused, having played a major part in that coming to pass. "And I'm thinking that maybe this is just a coincidence. But…"
"But you don't trust coincidences – and neither do I." The pathologist finished the thought for him. "I'll see if I can find anything else."
"Amanda, be careful." He didn't need to say any more than that – even if the choice of drug was merely a coincidence, they were still dealing with some very dangerous individuals. Jesse's current situation stood testimony to that.
The young woman nodded as she got to her feet – the warning had been welcome but unnecessary. She wasn't about to take any chances.
"You want to keep hold of that?" she asked, indicating Jesse's blood work file.
"Yes, I'll have another look through." A frown settled on Mark's features. "Before you go, I…" He hesitated, knowing that she wasn't going to like what he was about to say. "I need you to contact Steve. Tell him that he needs to release the news about my attack."
"What?" Amanda's mouth dropped open in shock. They had been lucky so far that the press had yet to get hold of this. At least that was what she'd thought. Now Mark wanted to invite them in?
"Word of this has to get out. Reed has to know that he failed." This was the idea that he'd been toying with when he'd first awoken.
"What? So that he can try again? Mark, wouldn't it be easier to let him think that he succeeded? You can't put yourself back in the firing line."
"There's only so many times I'm willing to fake my own death, Amanda," he retorted with a familiar and welcome twinkle in his eye. "Or else providence might think that I'm tempting her."
It made sense, Amanda mused – even though her gut instinct was to protest against the plan. Mark had been through so much already. Two heart attacks and the trauma of being attacked by his dear friend had taken a heavy toll. And now he wanted to volunteer himself for more danger.
She knew exactly how Steve was going to react and it would make her own protests seem tame in comparison. But how else were they supposed to clear Jesse? It was all very well conjecturing that Reed was ultimately behind the attack, but they needed solid proof. And the first step in obtaining that proof was confirming that the hypnotist had indeed returned to LA.
"Amanda?" Mark's voice cut through her musing and she glanced up with a start.
"Steve's not going to like it," she said softly – not needing to add: 'neither do I'.
"Then you have to make him like it." He leant forwards and took hold of her hand. "We're never going to find some anonymous chemist. Reed is the best lead that we have."
"That's assuming that he's still around."
"I think that he is." Lying in his hospital bed, Mark had had a lot of time to remember the man. "Gavin Reed isn't the type of person to leave a job half finished. He'll want to be sure."
She wanted to protest further – but there was something in Mark's face that stilled her tongue. He had a look of determination about him that indicated his mind was made up and nothing would sway him from his plan of action. And if she didn't do what he'd requested, then he would be out of bed and on the phone the second her back was turned.
"I'll talk to him," she acquiesced, with a sad half smile.
Some time during the night, Jesse too had drifted off to sleep. An IV drip snaking into his arm most probably had something to do with it – and the fact that his sleep had been mercifully dreamless.
But the drugs couldn't hold him in thrall forever and he blinked his eyes open; only to close them instantly again when he saw that he was not alone. He wanted to turn away, to give an unmistakable message with his body language that that person wasn't welcome, but straps still held him immobile and he had to settle for merely turning his face away. It was never going to be enough, but he'd known that anyway. He'd just had to try.
"Jesse, open your eyes." His visitor spoke and there was warmth and compassion in her voice – the same things he'd seen reflected in her face. Things that he did not deserve. "Jesse, please?"
He couldn't comply. His guilt flared anew and he wasn't strong enough to face her. But nor could he simply ignore her – that would only compound the sin. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice dry and scratchy from having just woken up. "I'm sorry I hurt you."
"Sweetheart, you didn't mean to."
"I hit you." His words were spoken with finality and when he felt a hand reach out to his he closed it into a fist. He couldn't pull away, but he didn't want her sympathy.
"You weren't in control, Jess." Amanda refused to be swayed by the negativity that Jesse was displaying and she rested her hand on the one that refused to grasp hers. She needed the contact even if he didn't. "You couldn't help what you were doing. You couldn't fight it, couldn't stop it. You were drugged, honey." She paused, wondering how much she should disclose – how much he already knew.
"It doesn't matter." His voice was whisper soft and his eyes remained firmly closed. "I hurt you. I… I would have… killed…"
"Jesse…" The pain in his voice was too much for her and she sought some words of comfort. But before she could try to voice them, she was rudely interrupted.
"You wanna explain to me what the hell she's doing in there?"
Amanda's head whipped around – knowing that the 'she' had to be her. She had been the only female in the room. She closed her eyes briefly as she saw Captain Newman glowering back at her. Then Steve came into view and he looked equally as unhappy as his superior.
"Amanda…" Steve took a step towards her, but Amanda rose swiftly to meet him at the door, not wanting to have this conversation within Jesse's earshot.
"I'm visiting my friend, Steve," she hissed, ignoring the imposing presence of Newman. "We know he's not guilty and I have that right."
"No, you don't." It was the Captain who responded, his voice low and dangerous. "The last time I looked, Travis was still the prime suspect. I still haven't seen any evidence to the contrary. And you don't have any right to interrogate my suspects."
"And you don't have any right to keep him tied down!" Her patience broke at the cold way Newman was treating her friend and her voice got progressively louder. "We have evidence. He was drugged, he was restrained and he was beaten. How much more do you need?"
"Amanda." Steve quickly stepped in before Newman could really lose it. This was not the way to get him on side. Taking hold of her arm, he dragged her a short way down the corridor. "You shouldn't have gone in there." He spoke quickly before she had the chance to interrupt. "There are still charges filed against Jesse. We don't have enough to get them dropped as yet."
"Don't have enough?" She thrust the file that she had been holding into his chest. It was a copy of the one she had left with Mark. "Scopolamine, Steve." Tears filled her eyes as he stared disbelievingly at her. "Scopolamine combined with a whole host of other drugs – designed to increase aggression and violent behaviour; designed to confuse and disorientate; designed to control him, Steve."
"How come our guys didn't get this?" All anger forgotten, the detective got straight back to business.
"I knew what I was looking for."
"Have you done any tests?" Newman stepped back into the fray, having overheard her words. "You know for certain how these drugs interact?"
"What, you want me to inject myself with it?" She was still annoyed enough not to be at all intimidated by the man. "See if it makes me want to kill you? Believe me, I'm not sure that I'd even need the drugs right now."
The Captain didn't respond but just raised one sardonic eyebrow at her passionate outburst. That alone was enough to make her mentally replay exactly what she'd said and she glanced downwards, sheepishly. Passion wasn't going to sway Newman. Only facts would do that.
"I'm sorry," she muttered, with bad grace. Then she looked up and she was once again Doctor Bentley. "We haven't tested the compound because it has already broken down in the bloodstream. But we don't need to test it to know its effects."
"So." He turned his attention back to Steve. "We know he was drugged. He still could have taken it voluntarily."
"Jesse doesn't do…" Amanda had spoken instinctively, but quieted at the dark look Steve gave her. This was his territory after all.
"Drugged and, we think, hypnotised." At another questioning look, he pressed on. "We think Gavin Reed is back in town."
Newman stared impassively back at him for a moment. "Prove it to me," he eventually said, before turning on his heel and disappearing back down the corridor.
"So, what were you doing in there?" Steve asked, when the two of them were alone again.
"I was looking for you," she answered honestly. "Your phone's switched off."
He frowned when he heard those words – he rarely turned his phone off – and fumbled in his pocket to produce the object in question. Glancing at it, he offered Amanda a sheepish smile: "Battery's dead," he explained. "Why were you looking for me?"
"Your dad asked me to talk to you, but…" She bit her lip and glanced back down the corridor towards the infirmary. "Why's he in restraints, Steve?"
The detective couldn't meet her eyes. He didn't want to see the accusation, real or imagined, that would be there. It was hurting him, too. "They're for his own safety," he eventually whispered. "He's been… unstable."
"Can you blame him? Steve, he needs help."
"And he's getting it."
"That's not how you help people, Steve," Amanda shot back; shock adding uncharacteristic venom to her voice. "That kind of treatment belongs in the dark ages. What are you going to try next? Electric shock therapy?"
"Amanda…" Steve didn't need the pathologist to add to his guilt. He was handling that all by himself.
"No, Steve. That's Jesse in there – our Jesse." Her anger refused to be abated. "And we know that he's done nothing wrong. So are you going to release him or am I?"
"It's not possible – not yet at any rate." Steve grabbed hold of her arms, determined to get through to her. "He was on suicide watch, Amanda. I'm sorry, but that's not 'our' Jesse in there – not at the moment."
The young woman's anger turned quickly to grief as the truth of his words sunk in. She looked away, fighting away tears.
"I am sorry, honey." He turned his grip into an embrace. "But we will get him back, I promise you." His mouth set into a thin line. "But that's not gonna happen until we can get some proof – and we all need to be doing that together. So, what did my dad want?"
Amanda sighed and again glanced towards the infirmary. She wanted to be with Jesse – to let him know that he wasn't alone and that his friends were standing by him – but she had been forced to face up to reality. And, no matter how much she yearned to, she couldn't just barge back in there, not without risking causing further damage to Jesse's already shattered emotional state. She blinked away her tears and allowed Steve to lead her away.
Once they had found some place quiet to sit and talk, her conversation with Steve went exactly as she had feared it would. To say that he was vehemently opposed to his father's idea was an understatement of massive proportions. She tried to be logical – to use the same argument that Mark had used to persuade her – but the detective was not about to be swayed. In fact, he answered her every comment with an obdurate and categorical 'no'.
"I can't believe that you're even discussing this," he snarled, after another failed rationale.
His voice was tight with emotion and his expression stubbornly set. Amanda's shoulders slumped in defeat. She had known that this would be the outcome and she'd given it her best shot. Now, though, she was at a loss as to what they could possibly do to clear Jesse's name.
"Dammit, what the hell was he thinking?" Steve ranted on, oblivious to her distress. "You can tell him from me that… Hell, I'll tell him myself." He grabbed for his cell phone, belatedly realising that he had not yet had the chance to recharge it. But he was not about to let that stop him from telling his dad exactly what he thought about his potentially suicidal plan. He reached for the phone on his desk but before he could even begin to dial, a slender hand rested on top of his own.
"Steve, don't you think that you should at least calm down first? Please?" Amanda's voice was small and pleading, but the look she gave him was filled with sincerity. "I know it's only because you're worried, but he honestly thought it was the right thing to do. He said… He said he didn't know how else we could ever prove…" She trailed off, because she agreed with that sentiment and it scared her to death.
"There's always another way, Amanda. A way that doesn't involve anybody putting their lives at risk." He had enough experience as a cop to genuinely believe that but as he sought to reassure her with a viable alternative, he was sickened to find that his mind was completely blank.
TBC…