Eyes Wide Open

His secretary asked us if we wanted anything; we both asked for some water. Then she took us in.

Bob Hutchins was a trim, pleasant-looking man with a long forehead and hair closely cropped around the sides. He stood up at his desk to greet us. He had a military bearing. In fact, the pictures on the wall of him with a bunch of brass confirmed that he had once been a sergeant major in the military police. He held out his hand. “Gentlemen…

“Good to see you again, Don,” he said to Sherwood. Years back, Sherwood had been the arresting detective of a couple of high-profile inmates who had ended up there, and the two had collaborated on the convicts’ parole hearings.

He introduced me.

“So you’re up here for a tete-a-tete with Russ,” Hutchins said. “He’s like royalty up here. Our longest-running inmate. And one who’s not likely to leave.”

Hutchins patted what appeared to be a prisoner file. “We’ve got him sequestered in a holding cell for you over in SHU A. Try to keep in mind, he may not resemble exactly what you might expect. Not many requests to see him these days, and he rarely accedes to the few that come. You ought to consider yourself lucky.”

Sherwood glanced my way. “I have a feeling the good doctor here should take the bow on that one. Apparently they’ve met.”

“I was just a kid,” I said. “He and my brother came up to my father’s house looking to raise money to cut a record. Apparently, my brother had been living on the Riorden Ranch. This was around 1972. A year before it all happened…”

The warden nodded, shaking his head, then glanced back at Sherwood. “You say this is related to a string of new killings? That they may have some connection to the original case?”

“A possibility…,” Sherwood said. “Almost two weeks ago, Dr. Erlich’s nephew was found dead at the bottom of the Morro Bay Rock, in what we first deemed to be a suicide, but are now looking into further. Last week, a retired police detective from Santa Barbara was murdered as well, who had played a role in the Houvnanian investigation.”

Hutchins pursed his lips judiciously. “Anything else linking them?”

“Both bodies were found with similar items on them at the time of death,” Sherwood said. “And we also found out they had recently been in touch.”

“I guess it could always be some kind of copycat crime.” The warden opened the file. “Houvnanian doesn’t have a lot of contact with the outside world these days. Any calls, and incoming or outgoing mail, are closely monitored. Have been since he first came here. And, like I said, he may not resemble what you may recall. He’s basically lived in a five-by-eight cell for the past thirty-seven years. He gets thirty minutes of exercise a day, which for him is just supervised pacing back and forth in the hall outside his cell. He’s rarely even seen the sun in years. His reasoning abilities, such as they ever were”-the warden smiled-“have deteriorated over the years. We have a name for it up here-‘cabin fever.’

“Mostly he just reads-the Bible, Greek philosophy, a bunch of stuff on physics, I’m told. Listens to music. He really doesn’t even belong here anymore, it’s just that…” Hutchins smiled. “Well, he’s Russell Houvnanian. No one’s about to transfer him out. He’ll be fully restrained when you meet with him-standard procedure. And if you would, please refrain from handing him anything without first passing it by the guards. Ready?”

Sherwood and I both nodded.

The secretary came in with our waters.

“I wish I had something stronger to offer you, gentlemen.” Hutchins stood up. “Take a breath. You’re about to enter Ground Zero for the human race.”

Chapter Forty-Six

W e walked down two flights of stairs through a secure glass door leading to a long underground tunnel.

It was perhaps a two-hundred-yard walk to the prominent white X I had noticed from the air. The corridor forked at the end. Hutchins directed us to the left, through a door that read A BLOCK. THE SHU.

We climbed a flight of stairs and were buzzed in through another security door. This time it was manned by two khaki-clad guards, billy clubs attached to their belts along with firearms. My heart accelerated with the knowledge we had entered a very dangerous place.

“Every one of these inmates has a history of being a violent offender.” Assistant Warden Hutchins took us down the hall. “And in most cases, they’re already incarcerated for life, so there’s nothing for them to lose except privileges for being rowdy. I’ve had Houvnanian brought to a holding room on the block. Rudy…” Hutchins waved hello to an officer. “As I said, he’ll be fully restrained and there’ll be two guards with you at all times. You can ask him anything you want, but again, there can be no physical contact or exchange of materials.”

Sherwood nodded.