Chapter 28

Hunt and Peck

Furey came in around noon complaining of being hungry and asking for his Dad.

"He had to go in to the hospital for a new patient, but you and I are going down to see him at two, so you need to stick around." I handed him a sandwich, "Furey, tell me about your impressions.

Furey seemed unfazed by my question, he looked up at me and tilted his head, "This guy is mad at you Auri. He doesn't like it that you're smart."

"Does he know I'm an Intuitive?"

Furey nodded, "He's really fuzzy though. I get imprints and then they blur, know what I mean?"

It was my turn to nod, "Yeah, usually when that happens it means I'm getting them from another Intuitive or people who are sensitive enough to know when I'm reading them."

"Auri?" he hesitated, "I wasn't trying to read him, honest, but I got a strong broadcast from my Dad while I was down at Keith's house. Did he ask you to marry him?"

"No, he didn't sweetie. He was mulling it over, but he never asked."

His face fell and he went back to chewing his sandwich.

"Now, back to your impressions, continue."

"He followed us to California…no, he followed you. Auri, what you said, it makes sense. I think he's an Intuitive. I think he's still trying to figure out how to close his gate, because when he's really excited, his thoughts and emotions seep through. That makes him mad. He doesn't want us to read him."

"Can you see him, give me a description?"

"No, because it's weird, I see everything as if I'm looking through his eyes."

My heart jumped, and my nerves tingled. "Furey, listen to me carefully. If you get an impression of him, or anyone, where you are looking through their eyes, it means they have a direct line to you too. They see what you see. You need to mentally jump out of their body. It takes practice, but it can be done. He may not know how to do it either, but you have to try and jump outside of him. Do you understand?"

He looked scared and so did I, "But I don't know how!"

"We can practice. I'll put myself into your brain, allow you to see everything from my eyes and you practice on making your mind jump. But for now, keep telling me your impressions." I didn't like that he had a direct connection with Furey, it made Furey much more susceptible to the killer's thoughts. It meant that his thoughts could possible control what Furey did and vice versa.

"He likes it when he pulls the clothes off the women and has sex. He likes it when they try and fight back, because he can hit them, make them stop."

I took in a deep breath. I really hated the fact that Furey was receiving this, but I couldn't stop the killer from projecting it or Furey picking it up. I figured I might as well get as much from Furey as I could to help me catch the guy and put a stop to it. I leaned forward on the counter to encourage him to continue.

"He makes them get dressed. He likes it when they think he's going to let them go. He tells them to get up and start walking to the car. That's when he comes up from behind them and chokes them with a cord or something. He likes the way they look when they realize he's going to kill them. He's mean Auri, he's really mean."

"I know honey, anything else?"

"He watches us. He's watching us now."

A cold, cold chill ran up my spine, literally raising the hairs on my neck. I reached over, grabbing Furey's hand and opened the gate.

"Okay, Furey, let me see what you see."

He closed his eyes and I slipped directly into Furey's mind, something that took tremendous energy and work. When you slip into this area of the mind, it means that the connection is so opened, that you can each see, feel and sometimes control what the other is doing. I searched around for the killer's link to Furey. I found the killer; he was watching Greg as he sat in a lab reading a magazine while his team worked around him. It made sense to physically stalk Greg. Anytime he wanted to see what Furey or I were doing, he just had to open the gate and look through Furey's eyes. This wasn't just a serial killer, this was a monster. I had to teach Furey how to jump out of the killer's mind, but I couldn't do it for him. He was going to have to work with me and do it himself.

"Auri, he's watching you and me through me, isn't he?"

I nodded solemnly.

"I'll just keep my gate down."

I was hoping my voice didn't clamp down from the fear washing through me, "That would probably be a great idea honey. Now we have to let the FBI know the man is at the hospital." I ran out and told the guys in the car and they relayed it in. I called Greg on his cell and prayed that he would pick up. He did.

"Greg? Are you with someone?" My voice was wavering up and down an octave.

I heard him snort, "What's wrong with you? You sound like Rosanne Barr at a Padres Game."

"We've determined that the murderer physically stalks you and mentally stalks Furey."

There was silence. I could just imagine him sitting there staring off into space trying to put this together. "So, he's physically in the hospital?"

"Yes and mentally seeing me through Furey's eyes. He's stalking us all."

More silence. I thought I'd swallow my tongue, I was so nervous.

He whispered into the receiver, "He's Intuitive?"

"Yes, I should have figured it out. He can't see through me; I've learned to put up the right guards, know how to keep someone from doing remote viewing through my eyes. But Furey's never had someone do this. This guy is still a little fuzzy with his abilities, but he's getting better all the time. Furey has closed his gate, but with someone like this, I don't know how well that's going to work or if Furey can keep it down long enough."

"Now what?" He sounded pissed off, but I knew that was Greg's way of saying he was scared.

"FBI is on their way. I don't know if he's caught on that we know. It's possible. I touched Furey and could see through the killer's eyes. You were sitting in a lab, feet up, reading a magazine while others worked around you. I'd say I was passing by the lab about twenty feet from you."

"Fuck! He was less than twenty feet from me?"

"Yes. So stay somewhere in public and don't stay alone, the more the merrier."

"Now you tell me." He whispered and it was so low, I almost didn't hear, "I'm in the bathroom stall taking a dump and there's someone out there…waiting."

I inhaled sharply, grabbed Furey's hand and dragged him into a closet, closed the door. It was dark, pitch black, hard to see anything. "Furey, open the gate, try to see through the guy's eyes."

I had the phone to my ear and I could hear Greg whisper, "No, don't, he'll see you two."

"No, I've got us in a dark closet. All he'll see is black." I touched Furey's hand and waited as his mind whirled, trying to find the killer. We zoomed into his mind, Furey opened the gate as wide as he could. I let out a sharp, tiny scream, dropping Furey's hand and stepping out into the hall. "Greg, he's in there with you. Do you have anything you can use as a weapon? Your cane?"

"I left it by the sink."

I wanted to run towards the hospital and shoot the S.O.B. "Honey, I'm hanging up and calling Freddie, let him know where you are and what's going on. Stay in the stall, make some grunting noises, make him think you're still doing your business."

"I am…but now I've got the pucker factor going on."

I didn't bother to respond. I dialed Freddie who picked up on the second ring.

"Freddie? The killer is in the bathroom on the third floor, west wing, with Greg. Hurry!"

"I'm two, maybe three minutes from the parking lot." He sounded reassuring.

I nodded to myself, "I'm in touch with him; I'm going to try something. Bye." I didn't wait for a response. I opened the door to the closet where Furey was still ensconced. "Close your eyes and turn around." He did as I told him. I grabbed his head and immediately leaped into the killer's mind. I tried to hear his thoughts, but the killer was concentrating so hard on the stall door, he wasn't really thinking. His feelings were primal, like a big cat ready to attack. I could feel the cane in my hand ready to strike when Greg came out. I could smell the bathroom soap. Our hearts were beating quickly, in unison. We were both sweating, excited. We were watching Greg's feet under the stall, staring at his new Nikes. The killer was so entranced he didn't realize I was there. But then, I'm better at stealth mind reading than most, more practice.

I could hear Greg grunting as if he were straining. I almost laughed, but that would have given me away. I concentrated on the killer's process of thinking and realized that I had to bring him down from the thrill of killing to the fear of being caught in such a public place. I started placing brief thoughts of people coming through the bathroom door, busting in with guns drawn. I could feel doubt creeping in his head. He was starting to think. Too public, too risky, leave the cane and run. Get out. I added more thoughts, It's been too long in here, the odds are going up that someone is going to find us, walk in when they shouldn't, get out, get out, another time…leave, leave.

I watched as our latex gloved hand put the cane back, balancing it on the counter next to the sink. He turned away from the sink, but I caught a glimpse of white clothing in the mirror, but didn't dare draw attention to it with my mind or he'd know I was there. We walked quickly out of the bathroom and down the long corridor, into the stair and down a flight, coming out on the second floor of the west wing.

I pulled my hands from Furey and whispered, "Close the gate." I then pushed open the closet door and dialed Greg.

He whispered, "What?"

"He's gone, get out of there."

He raised his voice back to normal, "Yeah, try telling my bowels that. Right now anal retentive would best describe me."

"Geg, I don't care if you crap your pants. Do not take the stairs, stay in a public place on the third floor, do not go down to your office. He got off on the second floor. I'm on my way." I ran up the stairs and strapped on my gun, put a blazer on and took off, Furey in the passenger seat. When we got into the parking lot I turned to Furey, "You still have the gate down, right?"

He looked frightened, his face tight with fear, "Yeah. He's in there with Dad, right?"

I shrugged, "I don't know if he's still in there, possibly. But, I want you to stay on my left side right next, but slightly behind me. If I stop, I expect you to be so close that you run into me. Understand?"

He nodded and we crossed the parking lot, my hand inside my jacket, ready to pull my gun. I had an arm sticking out shielding Furey's body as we passed through the lobby where everyone stared at us like we were nuts. I called the elevator, staying out of the stairwell. When it arrived I made Furey wait while I checked it out. I allowed a family in with us, although it frightened me to think that they may get caught up in our drama. We got off on the third floor and then went to the charge nurse's desk. Greg was sitting in the middle of the nurses' station reading again. He had a lollipop in his mouth and next to him stood Mark, one of our junior agents.

Greg pulled his legs down and smiled at Furey, "Dude, you look like you just saw Freddy Krueger!"

Furey ran and hugged his Dad, holding him so tight I could tell it was physically uncomfortable for Greg, but he said nothing. He wrapped his long, safe arms around his son and hugged back. He smiled at me.

"I want to go back to my office. You think we could manage that now?" He asked it more of Mark than me, but Mark looked to me for direction.

"Yeah, we'll take an elevator and let Mark do reconnaissance."

We took twice as long as necessary, but made it to Greg's office without incident. When we entered his dark office I looked at Furey who looked back knowingly.

I swallowed, nodding at Furey, "Greg, he's been in here and it's been in the last few hours. Did you have any contact with a man in brown shiny slip on shoes with a buckle?"

He laughed at me, "Like I look at men's shoes. I haven't been in my office much today and when I was, no one but my team showed up."

I nodded, acknowledging that he had no information to add. I watched Freddie come in, shake his head to let me know they found nothing and continue to look around.

I broke the silence, "I think we need to start a profile from what we know. Greg, can we use your white board?"

"Yeah, let me just write on a pad what's already up there. Furey, here, go write what's on the whiteboard." He handed Furey a pad and pen. We watched as he went next door to take down the information.

Greg said out loud to no one, "Should we send Furey somewhere else? If so, where would he be safe?"

I looked out at the Furey, sitting and writing down what was on the board. My heart swelled with love for the child, "With your permission, I'd like him to stay. He can help if he remembers anything important. Plus, he's seen some pretty bad things so far and he's holding up pretty well. It's only when he thinks you or I are threatened that he gets upset."

Greg looked at me with those big blue eyes as if he was trying to see inside my brain. He finally exhaled, "Sure, but if he gets upset, he's outta there."

"Understood."

We all moved into the office with the white board, Greg standing holding the marker. He turned to me and Furey, who was sitting next to me leaning on my arm.

"Well, for those of us who don't know much about these things, tell us how to profile, give us some background."

I turned my palms up, "The FBI defines serial murder as: A minimum of three to four victims, with a "cooling off" period in between; the killer is usually a stranger to the victim — the murders appear unconnected or random; the murders reflect a need to sadistically dominate the victim; the murder is rarely "for profit"; the motive is psychological, not material; the victim may have "symbolic" value for the killer; rarely, but sometimes, the method of killing may reveal this meaning; and, they often choose victims who are vulnerable like prostitutes, runaways, etc."

Greg wrote a few buzzwords on the board, 'stranger, domination, vulnerable.' "Okay, what else can we assume?"

"Assume is a bad word, because no two serial killers are alike, but statistically, the average serial killer is a white male from a lower-to-middle-class background, usually in his twenties or thirties. Many were physically or emotionally abused by parents. Some were adopted. As children, fledgling serial killers often set fires, torture animals, and wet their beds- these red-flag behaviors are known as the "triad" of symptoms. Brain injuries are common. Some are very intelligent and have shown great promise as successful professionals. They are also fascinated with the police and authority in general. They have either attempted to become police themselves, but were rejected, worked as security guards, or served in the military. Many, including John Gacey, the Hillside Stranglers, and Ted Bundy, have disguised themselves as law enforcement officials to gain access to their victims."

Greg listened intently as he watched me. He wrote up on the board, '20-30, white, abused, fires, torture, wet the bed, fascination with cops."Okay, what else?"

Freddie spoke up, "I'm not as good as Auri at this, but In trying to figure out the personality traits of a homicidal predator, many things are taken into consideration, including victim background, time and place of the murders, method of abduction, murder weapon used, degree of planning, and evidence of overkill."

I nodded, "Freddie's right, plus a relatively recent development in the profiling field is the analysis of a suspect's geographic patterns—victim selection area, where the crime was actually committed, travel route for body disposal, where and how he dumped the bodies, and the degree of isolation of the dump site. It tells something about the suspect's mobility, method of transportation, potential area of residence, and ability to traverse barriers, such as crossing state lines."

Greg looked at Furey to see if he was okay, "Dude, are you alright? Is this upsetting you?"

He smiled at his Dad, "No, I think it's cool."

"Okay, then let's take a look. Anything consistent about the victims?"

I looked to Freddie. He waved for me to go on, "Females 19-39, no specific "type" but each had a job that kept them out late, sometimes they had to lock up their stores for the night before leaving. The only deviation from this was Tricia. But then, she was targeted because of her association with you." I saw Greg flinch and was glad to see that he did have some compassion for the girl who died simply because she had dated him. It wasn't his fault, but a normal human would feel some guilt. Obviously, Greg did, even though he'd never admit it. I took a breath, "They're abducted outside of work by knife, raped with a condom, dressed and then strangled with a variety of weapons, including panty-hose, wires, belt even, rope. Lots of planning, he has to observe their schedules, determine when they work and whether they're alone when they go home. He has access to a vehicle, kills the vic in one area and dumps, buries or cements the body in another area. So he is an organized killer, not an opportunistic murderer."

Greg narrowed his eyes in contemplation, "How many are we talking about?"

"He's killed nine so far, that we know of. Plus, killers usually start out killing in their own back yard so to speak, where they know the lay of the land and can dispose of the body without having to drive around searching for a good area. Later, they may branch out as law enforcement starts closing in. They even move away to other areas. So, we have been concentrating in the Reston area and now Philadelphia-Princeton."

Greg stared at the white board with determination, "He killed the one before this, near Philadelphia and Tricia in Princeton."

"But he's completely changed everything with Tricia. He knows we're on to him, so he doesn't feel the need to cover up who did the crime. We haven't caught him so he's feeling smarter than all of us. He's taunting us with Tricia. She was killed right under our noses and dumped in my house. Now it's very personal."

"But, is it personal against you or me?" Greg asked.

I looked at Freddie. But it was Mark who suprisingly spoke up, "Auri. He eliminates Auri's female competition, Tricia, and puts her body in Auri's house as a present. He's indicating a certain respect for Auri."

Greg looked at me to see if I was buying this. I took a deep breath, "I think you're right. One thing we're ignoring, this guy is a psychic and knows I am too. He's just now starting to flex his abilities. He's had intuition all his life, but never really pieced or honed it until the last few years. If we put in that he probably has contact with law enforcement, psychic, Reston, maybe we have something to investigate. In other words, a male psychic who probably offered his talent to law enforcement in or near Reston and was turned down."

Mark nodded, "I'll get right on it. We've got several agents lurking around here; I think you three will be safe."

I held up a hand to stop Mark, "Here's some other things that have to be checked, rosters for flights from Trenton, Philadelphia, New York and Newark to San Francisco, Fresno, Los Angeles and Sacramento for the week we were gone. The staff at PPTH because he's wearing a white lab coat. So check all recent new employees and vendors for PPTH. People who could walk around and not be suspected. I think that will keep you busy."

Mark shook his head, it was a needle in a haystack trying to find someone among all the flights and in the hospital, but it was what the FBI did best, look for needles in haystacks.

Greg grabbed the paper that Furey had written the medical information down. "Okay, Furball, now write what's on the whiteboard down for me. I think I need to bring in my team and work on my medical diagnosis."

I smiled at him and nodded, "I think it's time that I teach Furey how to keep someone from looking through you when you're trying to read their mind."

Preventing another intuitive from using you as human binoculars is a hard principle to get and even more difficult when you are a kid just learning how to close gates, bounce thoughts and deal with the impact on your life of being intuitive. But I patiently tried working with Furey for an hour and then we were both exhausted. Remote viewing wasn't something I liked to do or did well. It took a tremendous amount of energy and there was no denying that, for whatever reason, men seemed to do it better than women. Women were much better at projecting thoughts and emotions, soothing people, planting ideas and deflecting feelings. But actually seeing through someone else is an art that I can do, but hadn't mastered; luckily, neither had our perp.

I watched Greg leaning on the white board yelling at Dr. Taub for some reason. He was so alive and excited. It was rather fun to watch him so into his work. I poked my head inside.

"Greg, I'm taking Furey home and making dinner. Are you going to be home for dinner?"

He looked at the shocked looks on the faces of his team. Apparently, they weren't expecting a domestic question.

"I think we're going to wrap this up in few hours, I should be home around seven. Send Gumby in here."

I motioned for Furey to go and see his Dad. He walked through the door and stood next to his Dad. I broke out into a big grin, they looked so much alike. This obviously wasn't wasted on the team.

"House, you'd never be able to deny that he was your son. Hi, Furey." Taub smiled at him.

"Hello Dr. Taub, nice to see you."

Taub shook his head and with stage shock put a hand to his chest, "Polite? Who's genes are those?"

Greg smirked, "Wilson's."

We all laughed. I grabbed Furey's hand, but he pulled away and gave his Dad a quick hug in front of everyone. House looked like he was in pain. I was surprised. Around Wilson, Jennifer and myself, House was very affectionate with Furey. So I wondered what this was about. I opened up and discovered that he was slightly embarrassed. He didn't want his staff to know he was a good father! That he loved his son desperately and worshipped the ground he walked on.

Furey didn't seem to care that his father didn't give him the usual hug back. He just turned and walked away. But I cared. I gave Greg a look of disappointment and he gave me back one of frustration. He reached out, pulled Furey by the arm and wrapped those long, hairy, safe arms once again around the kid who loved his Dad. I gave Greg the approving nod he so well deserved. He snarled at me. His team smiled, amused that the great Gregory House showed his son affection.

We drove home with a car of agents following. I cooked dinner and invited the guys to join us, giving the agent who stayed outside a sandwich. Greg walked in and found Agent Petrie sitting at the counter eating.

"Are we running a wayward home for Junior FBI agents?"

I spooned out the beef bourguignon on a plate and handed it to him, "I'm just giving John a little dinner before he goes back outside to protect your sorry ass."

John looked up at Greg, to see if Greg was going to say something, but he didn't. He just grabbed the plate and took it over to the table.

"Some wine?" I asked.

"Sure."

I gave him the wine and he acted somewhat perturbed that John was still around. I sat down with my plate and glass of wine too.

"Where's Gumby?"

"Gumby? You're going to start calling him Gumby again?"

He looked sheepishly towards John and then back. He spoke in a quiet voice, "I only stopped because it reminded me of Aspen Valley, Teags, how happy we had been. I think I'm okay with all that now."

I felt elated, "That's great honey."

John turned when I called Greg, honey. He wasn't used to seeing me in a domestic surrounding. He shoved the rest of his meal down and took the plate to the sink, "Thanks." He turned, gave me a quick smile and went outside to join Harry.

Greg watched me as I ate. I finally put my fork down and glared back, "What?"

"What are we going to do? We can't keep Furey locked in his room forever?"

I looked around the kitchen, "Yes, I know. But, we weren't successful this afternoon. It's going to take more time to teach him." I picked up our plates and took them to the sink, "I'll go home tomorrow. They said the smell is almost gone."

He looked surprised, "Tomorrow? You don't have to go home. I mean the smell is probably still bad."

"I'm just thinking that if I'm not here, then the perp can't see me through Furey. It will give me a better opportunity to find this guy. He's been good at screwing with my abilities. Had I realized he was an Intuitive, I would have concentrated my efforts on tuning into his intuitive…well, we call it, 'intuitive frequency'. I've got to figure out what's my best tactic. I want this guy."

He looked down at his wine, "You'll stay tonight, right?"

"Sure. If you want me to."

He nodded and that was it. I asked Furey if he had any homework, but since it was the end of spring break, he had nothing. He kissed me and his Dad before going up and taking a shower. Greg and I watched The Dog Whisperer and then went to bed to read. I worked on reports and internet searches on my laptop, Greg read some journals and then a tabloid.

We turned out the lights around ten thirty. I had just gotten to sleep when we were both awaken by a loud scream and crying from Furey's room. Before we could even get to him, he was standing next to Greg's bed sobbing. I sat up, reached around and pulled him onto the bed to hold him. He was hysterical, blubbering and sobbing.

"Baby, baby, it's okay. Your Dad and I are here. We're here. You're okay, you're okay."

Greg had crawled on his knees over to our side of the bed and was touching Furey's knee to comfort him. "Dude, what's wrong? It's okay, it's okay. Shhhh. Come on Gumby, tell us what's wrong?"

It took several minutes of me rocking him back and forth before we could sooth him enough that he could tell us what was wrong. Even then, he did it with halting breath and huge, heart wrenching sobs in between words.

He looked at Greg, "I saw Auri…(sob)…she was…(sob)…standing in the kitchen and he…(sob)…comes up behind her and…takes a wire and he puts it around her throat…she's choking and trying to kick him, but she couldn't get him to stop. Her tongue flopped out and her eyes were bulging." He looked up at me, "He dropped you on the ground; you were dead. He killed you Auri. You die."

I turned and looked at Greg. He was an ash gray, clearly disturbed by this dream. "Greg?" I said as softly as I could, "It's just a dream."

He nodded, but clearly he didn't believe me. I pulled Furey up into bed with us and held him, holding him as tight as I could and petting his hair. He finally fell asleep fifteen minutes later. I got up and went downstairs to get some water and try and calm myself down. I heard someone coming down the stairs and realized from the gait that it was Greg.

He stopped at the kitchen door, "Auri, I can't go through this again."

"What do you mean?"

He took a breath and grimaced, "The dream. Teags had dreams and they always came true. I can't handle losing you. I lost Teag. I can't be close to you and lose you too…"

"Oh, Greg, it was just a dream. He can have dreams that have nothing to do with his talents. And it's only natural with all this going on, he's going to have these kind of dreams." I could see from his desperate expression that he wasn't convinced, "I'm feeling guilty though. I only realized tonight how hard Furey is taking all of this. I think it would be better if, at least until we catch this guy, I don't have any contact with you two."

He leaned his head on the jamb of the door, crossing his arms in front of him, "How do I explain it to Furey?"

"Tell him that I got called away on the case."

"Auri, if this dream is true, then you're alone in a kitchen when this happens. How can I let you be by yourself? I may be sending you to your death by letting you leave."

I walked over and he put his arms around me. "I'll be okay. I'm a big girl. I need to pull the perp's attention back to me, away from Furey and you."

"That's what I'm afraid of…you'll be the sole focus of his attention."

"Better me than Furey." I went upstairs and picked up my things as Greg watched.

He whispered, "You don't have to go now. It will freak him out to wake up and you're not there."

"I need to go now. It's okay. Just say that I got a phone call and had to go." I walked over, gave him a kiss. As I started to walk away he grabbed my hand and stopped me, giving me the saddest look.

"Auri, be…"

"Careful? Hey, I'll be fine."

"When this is over, we need to talk."

I kissed him on the cheek, "Sure."

I took off into the night, giving instructions for the guys in front to stay with Greg and Furey. I arrived home, opened the door and took a sniff. It had an industrially clean smell that the people who clean up after dead bodies leave behind. I turned on the light and went into the kitchen, flipping on the switch for the alcove, but the light didn't go on. It spooked me a little, but I could see the desk from where I was standing and I was happy to see that the desk chair had been taken-- probably to the dump.

I stood, remembering the images of Tricia being strangled and dragged through my kitchen. Chills ran up my arms. I had an unusual feeling. I tried to figure out specifically what it was I was picking up. Listening closely, I could feel Furey, and yet, not Furey. The images were coming from someone in Furey's mind. He was feeding Furey images of him strangling me and of the women he had killed. I wrestled with the gate, Furey's gate. Being the stronger intuitive, I was able to push Furey's mind towards nicer thoughts and away from the images of me dying that the perp had been feeding him. Anger welled up in me, this meant war. The son of a bitch was messing with my kid and I wasn't going to take it.

I went up to bed and woke up early, ready to find me a murderer.