And specific facts stuck out.

He looked at Felicia. ‘So with the exception of the Risperidone – which is an antipsychotic, by the way – every other medication Billy was on is the exact same as those for Mandy Gill, Sarah Rose, and Larisa Logan.’

She nodded absently as she thought this over. ‘But is that because they’re cookie-cutter referrals, or because each one of those patients suffered from the exact same disorder? Maybe those medications work most effectively in that combination.’

Striker bit his cheek as he thought. ‘That’s not what bothers me. What does is the preference of the drug type.’

‘I don’t follow.’

He explained. ‘There’s over a thousand types of mood stabilizers out there, but our victims and our bad guy were on the same type. And the same type of antidepressant as well.’

‘So? They were also all in the same programme.’

‘And therein lies the problem,’ Striker said. ‘Dr Ostermann is the one who runs the therapy group, this SILC or whatever the hell it’s called. And yet, with the exception of Billy, the one who’s providing all the medications is Dr Richter. Why is that?’

‘Is it really all that important?’

‘Maybe yes, maybe no. But this much is certain: Dr Richter is one of the main connections here – to Mandy and Sarah through their medications, and to Larisa through the counselling.’

‘And Billy?’

‘Indirectly through the Mapleview Clinic. With Ostermann. And all their rehabilitative programmes.’

Felicia nodded. ‘And no callback from Richter yet?’ she asked.

‘No, and I’ve left several messages. But in reality it’s only been twenty-four hours.’ Striker thought this over. ‘Maybe, in the end, there’s a logical answer to Richter and Ostermann being involved.’

‘There is. It’s called counselling,’ Felicia said.

Striker raised a hand defensively. ‘I’m not completely discounting their validity here, I’m just . . . analysing things. Carefully.’ Striker looked out of the window, at the sun which was now slowly falling in the west, into a darkening blue skyline. ‘There’s something else, too.’

‘What?’

‘The gun Mercury used. Dispatch broadcast that it was taken from one of the fallen officers.’

‘The unit on scene said that.’

Striker nodded. ‘Well, that was a mistake. It wasn’t even a SIG Sauer. Maybe a nine mil.’

Felicia nodded. ‘Then let’s trace it.’

Striker agreed. He got on the phone and called Noodles, hitting Speakerphone as it dialled. The technician answered on the second ring. ‘Shipwreck,’ he said.

‘The gun,’ Striker replied. ‘You have a chance to check it yet?’

‘Sure. It’s been almost two hours since the shooting, so the entire scene has been photographed, the body autopsied, the gun tested for ballistics – and oh yeah, I also discovered the cure for cancer.’

Felicia laughed at this; Striker did not.

‘I need the results on that gun, Noodles. And I need them quick.’

The man just laughed sourly. ‘Can’t run it through the registry anyway, if that’s what you’re thinking – there’s no serial.’

Striker cursed. He should have figured as much. ‘They filed it off?’

‘Filed and acid burned.’

‘Really?’ Striker thought this over. He said goodbye to Noodles and hung up the phone. Then he turned in the seat to face Felicia. ‘Doesn’t that seem a little strange to you?’

‘What part?’

‘The whole thing. Billy somehow obtains a gun—’

‘Nothing surprising there. The guy was in the army. Did time overseas. He could probably get a rocket launcher, if he wanted one.’

‘Fine, fine, I’ll give him that. But then he files off the serial numbers and acid treats the metal.’

‘So?’

‘Two questions: one, would someone as delusional as Billy Mercury be focused on doing something like that in his current mental state? And two, why would he bother getting rid of the serial numbers in the first place? Did he think we’d never guess his identity? It was a suicide mission. He went toe-to-toe with us in a gun battle. Does it make sense from a psychological perspective?’

Felicia shrugged. ‘I don’t know, I’m not a psychiatrist.’

‘Exactly, and the one we wanted to talk to skipped the hospital the moment he got a chance.’

Felicia nodded. ‘He really hightailed it.’

Striker turned back in his seat. He put the car into Drive, hit the gas, and pulled back on to the road. But instead of heading west, he headed north. Felicia cast him a questioning stare.

‘Where we going?’ she asked.

‘Back to Mapleview. I’m seizing Mercury’s medical files.’

Fifty-Nine

Striker and Felicia parked directly in front of the Mapleview Mental Health Center, and got out. The wind was strong, blowing in from the park to the south, and it was cold. Felicia bundled herself up and got moving; Striker walked by her side.

With the sun now dipping behind the rising cloud banks to the west, the building was cloaked in purple-grey. In this dimmer light, it looked less like a modern-day mental health clinic and more like a retail store.

Striker said, ‘First we get Billy Mercury’s file, then we find Ostermann.’

Felicia was in agreement.

They reached the front steps, and Striker stopped. He got on his phone and called up Sue Rhaemer at Dispatch. He got her to send a message to the Coquitlam police. He needed a patrol unit to attend Riverglen immediately; they were to seize Billy Mercury’s file, and any other seemingly related files the officer stumbled upon.

When he hung up, Felicia frowned. ‘I know you don’t want to hear this,’ she said. ‘But we really should be getting a warrant first.’

‘There’s no time for that.’

‘The court will disagree. They’ll say there was nothing but time. After all, with Mercury dead, why rush? If we don’t do it right, some judge will throw out anything we find in that file. It will never be admitted as evidence.’

‘Like I said, Feleesh, these are exigent circumstances.’

‘Exigent? How? The man is dead.’

‘And we have doubts he was acting alone.’

She gave him one of her sceptical looks. ‘We do?’

‘I sure as hell do.’ He explained. ‘Those two phone calls back at Billy’s place make me wonder. They were made right when we left Mapleview, and the moment we entered the block – as if someone was doing recon on us. I don’t like it. So when you break it down, we don’t know yet if anyone else was involved. But if someone else was involved, you can bet your ass the first thing they would do is start getting rid of any evidence pertaining to the case or the patient involved. I’m seizing the file. Now.’

Felicia’s sceptical look never faltered. ‘Nice speech, Martin Luther King. You just want to see what’s in that file.’

Striker only grinned. ‘Six of this, a half-dozen of that – it’s all the same.’

Felicia made no response, and Striker started up the stairs. It was cold out, and the wind was blowing worse with every minute. He pulled open the double glass doors and stepped aside.

‘After you, Princess.’

Felicia smiled. ‘Well, at least you’ve learned your place.’

She walked through the front door, and Striker followed.

Stepping in through the front doors brought Striker a strange sense of déjà vu. A lost feeling. It had been only, what, two hours since he’d rampaged through here, ordering the receptionist to lock all the windows and doors, and then kidnapping Dr Ostermann and dragging him up to Safe Haven Suites to deal with Billy. Now, it all felt like a bad dream.

And in some ways, it was.

Striker slowed down walking, looked at the clock, then leaned on the banister of the stairway. A wave of mild dizziness washed over him, and he felt like his blood pressure had just skyrocketed through the roof.