“You knew that case better than anyone other than Marcus and Angela. We have to stop him before he kills again.”
“I appreciate your confidence in me, Doug, but you’re the FBI. You have the best profilers in the world working with you.”
“Yes, but none of them can get inside Marcus’ head like you can.”
“You want me to meet with him?” Penfield asked.
“Yes, and I’ve already got it cleared through the U.S. Attorney’s office. You have no idea the pain in the ass that was.”
Penfield could guess since he’d fought through red tape for all of his career, although he knew McMahon dealt with it on an entirely different level.
“Look, I know how hard this will be,” McMahon continued.
Penfield doubted that, but he wasn’t angry with McMahon for making assumptions. He knew where his friend’s heart was. The MAI killings had been one of the most brutal times of Penfield’s life and somehow, they were back.
“This is a long shot at best, Alex. The truth is you’ll probably get nothing out of him. According to the medical director at Central State, Marcus Carter hasn’t spoken in years, not since he attacked his doctor.”
“I didn’t know that,” Penfield said.
“Dr. Peter Bachman saw Marcus from the first day he arrived at the psychiatric hospital. I read his files. It took Bachman six months to get Marcus to realize the truth of what he’d done. That’s when Marcus attacked him. He injured Dr. Bachman so badly that he couldn’t work again. Ever since then, Marcus has been silent.”
“And you think I can get him to talk somehow?”
“Like I said, it’s a Hail Mary. But we have nothing else to go on right now.”
Penfield paused a long moment.
Then he asked, “How many times have you met with him already?”
McMahon didn’t respond.
“You’re the FBI, Doug, I know you didn’t call me without first taking a run at Marcus yourself,” Penfield continued.
“Twice. We met with him twice,” McMahon admitted.
“And what happened?”
“It was like watching paint dry. He said nothing. Hell, he wouldn’t even look at us. It was like we weren’t even there. The guy seemed to be in some kind of trance.”
“But I’m supposed to be able to make him talk?”
“I didn’t have the kind of relationship with Marcus that you did. Maybe you can push a button.”
“All right. You know I’m not going to say no to you anyway. When can I see him?”
“It will probably take me a couple of days to arrange the meeting. In the meantime, I can send you Dr. Bachman’s files if you want to read them. The FBI would have my head if they knew I gave them to you, but I don’t want to send you in there unless you see what you’re up against.”
“Thanks, Doug.”
“I’ll email you everything I have in the next hour. You’ll hear from me again once I’ve got the meeting at Central State set up. Look, I’ve got to go. Thanks for doing this for me.”
“Of course,” Penfield said, and he ended the call.
True to his word, Penfield received the doctor’s files from McMahon in under an hour. It took much of the night to read the material. According to Dr. Bachman’s reports, Marcus Carter had said nothing for the first six months of his incarceration at Central State. When he finally spoke, Bachman was shocked to see that Marcus had assumed the identity of his deceased partner, Angela Darden.
Throughout their next several sessions, Marcus had relayed the events of the MAI investigation through her perspective, including her thoughts on Marcus and how he’d handled the dark events.
Dr. Bachman believed Marcus was suffering from Dissociative Personality Disorder. Penfield looked up the term and discovered it was a condition that exists when a person develops two or more distinct personalities to avoid painful memories. Approximately ninety percent of patients with the disorder experienced some form of childhood abuse.
Penfield also learned that the condition was controversial within the psychiatric community. Some psychologists believed it was caused more from therapists suggesting that the patient suffered from the disorder when more logical explanations, such as drug and alcohol abuse, should be considered.
In his last therapy session with Marcus, Dr. Bachman made the fateful decision to confront Marcus with his diagnosis. This, in turn, caused other personalities to emerge, apparently ending in the appearance of the MAI killer himself.
Penfield watched the final minutes of the session between Dr. Bachman and Marcus, which had been recorded with a video camera. Judging from the angle of view, Penfield assumed it had been placed in the upper corner of the room.
Dr. Bachman and Marcus were seated at a small rectangular table with the doctor on one side and Marcus on the other. The room was also small, and it had one window off to the side of the table.
“Marcus even continued to talk with a partner after she’d been brutally injured. She barely survived the attack and she still hasn’t regained consciousness,” Dr. Bachman said on the video. “What did you think, Marcus, when you pulled the trigger? Was Angela getting too close? Were you trying to commit the ultimate sin by murdering the one closest to you?”
Penfield watched as Marcus turned from Bachman and stared out the window.
“Marcus,” Dr. Bachman continued.
Marcus turned back to Dr. Bachman.
“Why are you calling me Marcus?” he asked.
Penfield was astonished to hear that the voice sounded remarkably like Angela’s. It was a perfect imitation.
“You were the first to find Angela. You were the one to call in the attack on a police officer.”
Marcus laughed.
“You’ve lost your mind, Dr. Bachman. How can I be in a coma while I’m sitting right here talking to you?” he asked in Angela’s voice.
“Angela is gone from your life, Marcus. She was put in intensive care months ago. You haven’t visited her because you’ve been here with me. You, Marcus Carter, have been at this facility since your arrest outside the cabin.”
“Where is here?” Marcus asked in Angela’s voice.
“This is a psychiatric facility. I’ve been treating you here.”
“And you think Marcus is responsible for those murders?”
“I believe they started years ago with your grandfather. At some point, you must have been brought in on the family secret. I believe that’s when your identity disorder first started taking root. You literally developed into multiple people to protect your true self from the horror you saw around you. I suspect it happened shortly after you found the cabin.”
“The little boy lost in the woods. The little boy with the mask of death,” a childlike voice asked.
“An innocent voice. Is that you, Marcus, as a child? Did they teach you how to kill?”
“The sins of the father are passed to the son. You can’t make him stop. He’ll never stop,” Marcus said in a female voice, but it was one that was distinctly different from the voice he’d used for the Angela personality.
“Is that you, Leah?” Dr. Bachman asked.
Penfield searched his memory for the name Leah. Then he recalled that she’d been one of MAI’s first victims, although the task force had not realized that until they’d found her buried remains much later.
“You have stopped the killing, Marcus,” Dr. Bachman continued on the video. “You can’t hurt anyone. Not anymore.”
“He must die. Marcus Carter must die,” a male voice said, and Penfield recognized it as Marcus’ true voice.
He watched Dr. Bachman study Marcus.
“Is that you, Marcus?” Bachman asked.
Penfield watched as Dr. Bachman continued to study Marcus, who seemed to be slipping away.
“MAI can’t hurt you anymore. He’s gone away. He’s never coming back,” Dr. Bachman continued.
Marcus laughed, but it wasn’t him. Penfield had heard the detective laugh a thousa
nd times and that wasn’t his laugh.
“You don’t believe in demons, Dr. Bachman?” Marcus asked in a menacing voice that Penfield had never heard before.
“Who am I talking to?” Dr. Bachman asked.
Penfield watched in horror as Marcus lunged across the table at Dr. Bachman. The move had been done with astonishing speed and Bachman was on the floor a second later. Marcus held him down with one hand that was wrapped tightly around Bachman’s throat. Penfield saw the doctor struggle to breathe.
“I am loneliness. I am emptiness. I am despair,” Marcus said in the deep voice.
Then he leaned forward and bit Bachman’s face. His teeth tore a large section of Bachman’s cheek off. Penfield saw Marcus rip at the loose pieces of flesh with his fingers, and Penfield knew exactly what MAI was doing. He was trying to claim another face for his hideous collection.
The Central State security guards burst into the room a few seconds later, but they’d been too slow to react. Dr. Bachman might have escaped the deadly fate of MAI’s victims, but he’d been permanently disfigured in the process.
The video recording lasted for another minute and it showed the three guards barely being able to restrain a crazed Marcus Carter. Bachman screamed for that full minute, clutching his injured face the entire time. Then the video stopped abruptly.
There were a handful of written files that had been completed by other doctors at the institution in the years that followed. They all noted the same thing. Marcus Carter had not said a word after his attack on Dr. Bachman. Penfield’s former friend had apparently retreated into his own mind and Penfield wondered which personality had finally won out.
After closing his laptop, Penfield looked at the time on his watch. It was almost four in the morning. His body was exhausted, but his mind was still far too active. He stood and walked into the main room. He stretched out on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. The pain in his side was back with a vengeance. It seemed to reappear whenever he was stressed.
He replayed the video clip in his mind. It had taken Penfield a long time to accept that Marcus was guilty, but he still couldn’t reconcile the actions of the man he’d seen on the video with the detective he’d worked beside for years.
He was about to stand and walk back to the bedroom when his phone pinged. He looked at the display and saw a text message from Officer Drennan: Sexton is going to make it. Wanted you to see this when you woke this morning.
Penfield thought about calling Drennan, but he didn’t want to explain why he was still awake in the middle of the night. He put the phone back on the table in front of the sofa and walked to the bathroom. He turned on the faucet and splashed warm water over his face.
He thought of Dr. Bachman’s words.
I believe they started years ago with your grandfather. At some point, you must have been brought in on the family secret.
Penfield didn’t know what family secret he’d been referring to. Most of the MAI case was still shrouded in mystery. The top brass had done their best to bury the finer details, intent on covering up one of their lead detective’s horrible crimes. Lawsuits had followed and the department had settled for millions, but the whole truth had evaded Penfield. He doubted McMahon knew much more than he did, but he made a mental note to ask the next time he saw him.
Penfield grew nauseous when he thought of his upcoming meeting with Marcus Carter. He didn’t know how he’d respond when he saw the man who’d murdered dozens of innocent people and who’d brutally shot down his co-worker. Would he be able to keep himself from striking out at Marcus? And if he did, what could he possibly say or do to get the man talking again after all of these years?
He doubted Marcus would ever admit to having an accomplice, if he had one at all. He thought it was most likely someone who’d bought inside information from one of the task force members. It wouldn’t be the first time a compromised cop had traded secrets for money.
Penfield dried his face off with a hand towel by the sink and walked back into the kitchen. He opened his laptop and went into his email account. Penfield replied to the email McMahon had sent him.
The message was only once sentence long: I need to meet with Dr. Peter Bachman.
5
The Mask
Doug McMahon emailed Penfield back a few hours later and told him he’d locate Dr. Bachman and arrange a meeting. Several hours went by, but Penfield heard nothing. He busied himself with yard work, trying his best to keep the horrors of the previous investigation from consuming him.
The strong wind coming off the Shenandoah River kept Penfield cool throughout the day. By the afternoon, his body was stiff and sore, and he needed a break. He’d just walked back into the cabin when his phone vibrated. He pulled it out of his pocket and saw McMahon’s name on the display.
“Hey, Doug.”
“Bad news. Dr. Bachman won’t meet with you. He won’t meet with anyone.”
“Did you talk with him?”
“No, I spoke with his son, Timothy Bachman. I think he’s his caretaker too. They still live in Petersburg. He said his father hasn’t seen or spoken with anyone but him since the attack at Central State.”
“You told him this is a new case?”
“Of course. He said he wished he could help, but his father is emphatic. He won’t see anyone.”
“I understand,” Penfield said.
“I still want you to meet with Marcus and try to get him to talk. Are you still willing to do that?”
“Yes, I’ll do my best.”
“Good. I spoke with the medical director at Central State, Dr. Adina Mata. She’s willing to give us access to Marcus tomorrow afternoon. Can you be down in Petersburg by then?”
“Sure, it’s not that long of a drive from the cabin.”
“I’m sorry again for dragging you into this. I’m guessing it’s taken you a long time to get past this and now I’ve brought it all back to your doorstep.”
“Have you learned anything new since we last spoke?” Penfield asked.
“Nothing. We have nothing.”
“Is there anything else I can do besides meet with Marcus?”
“I wish there was, but the FBI has locked this down. It took a lot of convincing just to let me bring you in as far as I have.”
Penfield spoke with McMahon for a few more minutes and ended the call. He thought back to the original case. The FBI hadn’t been involved until the final days of the investigation. He had no way of knowing if they would have been able to solve the case before the local police did. The truth is that no one had solved it. Marcus’ mind had finally broken. He’d set fire to his grandfather’s home and burned it to the ground. When authorities arrived, they’d found the evidence that Marcus and the MAI killer were one and the same.
There was so much that he still didn’t understand about the case and he knew it would be a mistake to face Marcus without having answers to some of those questions. Penfield sat at his kitchen table and opened his laptop. He found a digital photo taken years before and sent it to his color printer in the spare bedroom. He retrieved the photo and walked out to his car. He sent McMahon a text along the way: Send me Bachman’s address.
Penfield backed his car out of the gravel driveway. He knew Petersburg was about two hours from Elkton. He was about halfway there when his phone vibrated with a reply from McMahon. He pulled over to get gas for his car and entered Dr. Bachman’s address into his phone’s GPS app.
He had no way of knowing if he could convince Dr. Bachman to see him, but he had to try. Penfield arrived at the house and found it was surrounded by a high brick wall. He could see several tall trees on the other side, but the house was hidden from the road.
He stopped his car in front of a tall ornate metal gate. There was an intercom box placed on top of a pole by the side of the driveway. Penfield rolled down the window and hit the intercom’s buzzer.
“May I help you?” a man’s voice asked a few moments later.
“Yes, my name i
s Alex Penfield. I’m requesting a meeting with Dr. Bachman. I’m the man the FBI called about earlier today.”
“Yes, Mr. Penfield. As I informed the agent before, my father isn’t able to meet with anyone. I’m sorry.”
Penfield looked toward the gate and saw a video camera placed on one of the columns that supported the gate. He put the car in park and climbed out. He walked up to the video camera and held the photo he’d printed at his cabin to the lens. After a few seconds, he walked back to the intercom and hit the talk button again.
“That’s a photo of me with Marcus Carter and his former partner, Angela Darden. She took her own life. So, you can see I’m pretty motivated to stop this copycat killer. I know your father is in a lot of pain and he didn’t deserve what happened to him. But refusing to help is not an option.”
There was no response on the other end for several long seconds and Penfield thought he’d played too strong of a hand.
Then the intercom buzzed, and the two metal gates slowly opened.
Penfield climbed into his car and drove up the long road to the Bachman house. The driveway ended at a turnaround in front of a large, two-story brick house. Penfield guessed it was probably close to four thousand square feet.
He climbed out of his car and took a quick glance at the estate. The grounds were immaculate. Penfield doubted the salary of a government psychiatrist could afford this, especially one that had retired early for medical reasons. That told him one thing. Bachman came from money.
Penfield walked up the stone steps to the front door. Before he reached the top, one of the double wooden doors swung open. He saw a tall man, around forty, standing in the threshold. Timothy Bachman had short brown hair that was just starting to gray at the temples. He was dressed in a gray sweater and black pants.
“Mr. Penfield, I’m Timothy Bachman. Won’t you come in?”
Timothy stepped back and let Penfield inside the foyer. It had a dark wooden floor and cream-colored walls. There was a chandelier hanging from the ceiling and a large, winding staircase beyond that.
“Thank you for allowing me to see your father.”
Nature of Darkness Page 4