Killer Genius

by David Archer

  I can't think about Eric right now. I have work to do.

  "Hey, Sam!"

  Or not.

  Denny stepped into the doorway, wiping sweat from his brow with a shop rag. "You know where whiz kid got off to?"

  Sam arched a brow. "Whiz kid?"

  "What? I've used it before."

  "Yes, once."

  "Twice," Denny corrected, holding up the appropriate number of digits.

  Sam grimaced. "Please don't tell me it's going to become a regular nickname."

  Denny shrugged. "I dunno, mate. You know me, everybody gets a nickname now and then."

  Sam pursed his lips, mildly amused by the idea. "I don’t even want to know what mine is."

  “It’s Gimpy,” he said, and Sam glared at him. Denny chuckled at that. "Yeah, well, you get my point. Seriously, though, where is he?"

  "Summer took him shopping, I think. They've been gone at least a half an hour now."

  Denny nodded a few times. "Got it. I'll catch him when they get back. I have some questions about his room."

  "Yeah." Sam began typing, silently reminding Denny—and himself—that he had work to do.

  Denny got the message and left with a quiet chuckle.

  Paperwork. Sam sighed. Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork.

  * * *

  Darren couldn't help but grin to himself when he saw Sam sitting on the floor in a sea of files, and he briefly wondered if stopping here had been a good idea.

  "I see you’re hard at it," Darren said.

  Sam didn't even glance up from the book in his lap, circling a few things as he spoke. "I found something interesting. I found a lot of things, to be honest, but right now I’m looking at unusual diagnoses."

  Darren looked at the mess for a moment and then sat on the sofa, facing Sam. "Well, tell me what you got."

  Sam nodded and tucked his pencil behind his ear. "I think Eric is too overmedicated for any diagnoses to be made or confirmed today, but I do believe he has at least a couple of emotional disorders. According to his records, though, he’s suffering from severe personality disorder and may be schizoid, with a healthy dose of paranoia thrown in."

  Darren crinkled a brow and leaned back, propping his ankle on the opposite knee and considering the detective before him. "Explain."

  "Well, does he seem delusional to you?"

  Darren scowled and inhaled slowly. "I don’t think so, no."

  Sam considered the papers in his lap, silent for several moments, fingers drumming on the folder to his left. "I know he's not crazy, Darren."

  "Good." Darren nodded his head. "You're trusting your gut, and you should, but don't lose your ability to play the devil's advocate. Remember, in the end, it's not me you have to convince; it's the higher-ups, and eventually, you may have to go before a judge."

  Sam looked at the book for another moment and nodded his head. "You're right." He ran a hand through his hair. "I really don't have any evidence."

  Darren gave a sideways sort of nod. "Maybe, but that doesn't mean you're wrong; it just means you have to dig deeper. You said you requested files on Eric's ward mates, right?"

  Sam nodded.

  "No one corrected you, so we know there were other consultants there. We can get information on them and see if it matches what Eric told you about his friends. If it does, that's one more piece of evidence that Eric is sane and not hallucinatory."

  Sam grabbed a piece of paper and began scratching down notes. "I'll work on getting those."

  NINE

  "Thanks for taking me shopping, Ms. Raines."

  Summer looked up from her ice cream cone and offered a quick smile. "It was my pleasure, Eric." She licked the dessert a few times. "Do you like everything you got?"

  Eric nodded his head rapidly and took a bite of his own cone. "I can't wait to wear a new outfit tomorrow." He barely got the last word out before a frown tugged at his lips. "Do you think I'll be able to do that? It's… been a long time since I picked my own clothes."

  Summer paused, thinking back to the hours they had spent combing through the racks at the thrift stores. Eric had collected quite the array of vibrantly-colored, obnoxiously-patterned shirts and ties, and during several of his trips to the fitting rooms, Summer had wondered if she could get away with sneaking some to the return rack. If not, she wondered whether she would be able to talk him into putting them back himself without making a scene. Finally, though, she had come to a simple conclusion.

  "Eric, if you look in the mirror and what you see makes you happy, then you picked a good outfit." Summer kept her tongue on the ice cream and twisted the cone with her hand. "That's all there is to it."

  And if anyone had a differing opinion they felt the need to voice, Summer would handle them privately.

  "You really think so?" Eric bit his lip, rubbed his nose a few times, and took another big bite. "You think it's okay that I like… really, really bright things?"

  Summer smiled at him, the epitome of encouraging support. "If I spent the last five and a half years of my life surrounded by green, I would like bright things, too."

  Eric chuckled nervously, uncertain words slipping between his lips. "Yeah, um… green is really boring. Even black and white would be better. Black is black, and white is white, y'know? But green is… well, what is it? Yellow and blue?" He chuckled again, even more nervous than before, and Summer immediately realized he was trying to make a joke.

  So, she smiled and chuckled along. Maybe it wasn't the funniest thing she ever heard, but delivery had a lot to do with humor, and if nobody encouraged Eric to be funny, he would never learn how to get the timing right.

  "Ms. Raines, what's your favorite flavor of ice cream?"

  Summer pursed her lips, considering the question before replying. "I’m pretty simple,” she said. “I’m fond of neapolitan. It’s chocolate, vanilla and strawberry, all together."

  Summer licked what ice cream she still could before finally caving and biting into the cone. "Someday," she said, covering her mouth, "maybe I'll take you to my hometown."

  Eric's eyes lit up, mouth stopping halfway to his ice cream. "Really? I would—I would really like that, Ms. Raines!"

  "You don't even know where I'm from." Summer chuckled and took another bite.

  Eric chuckled too, more joyous than amused. "It doesn't matter. I would love to see more of the world." He paused to finish his cone, crumpling the wrapper in his hand. "Where are you from, Ms. Raines?"

  "Texas." Summer was just a few bites behind him, the ice cream very nearly spilling over the edge as it melted. "A small town outside of Dallas.”

  Summer finished her ice cream and jumped to her feet, dusting off her hands. "So, you asked me some questions. It's your turn to answer."

  "Answer what?" Eric blinked a few times, completely lost.

  "Favorite ice cream flavor and hometown." Summer held out her hand for his wrapper and took it, along with hers, to the nearby trash can. "Come on. It's only fair."

  Eric appeared surprised for another moment or two, but then he brought out that toothy grin he appeared so fond of. "I'm from Colorado Springs, and… my favorite ice cream flavor is silly."

  Summer quirked a brow. "How can it be silly?"

  Eric shrugged. "Everyone always laughs."

  "That doesn't necessarily mean it's silly. It could be cool or interesting or enjoyable." Summer nudged him on the shoulder and smiled. "You can tell me, Eric. You can tell me anything."

  Eric bit down on his lip, dropped his gaze to the dirt, and shrank in on himself. "Vanilla."

  Summer didn't miss a beat. "With or without chocolate?"

  He appeared genuinely surprised when she didn't laugh, and it was with a hesitant smile that he answered, "With."

  Summer did laugh at that, but her only comment was, "Classics never go out of style, Eric."

  Eric smiled at that, clearly relieved by her lack of ridicule, and got to his feet. "So, are we going back to your house?"

  Summer
shook her head and began for the car. "No, I got a text from Denny. He has some questions about your new room, so I'm taking you to the office, and then we’ll go home later. Okay?"

  Eric nodded his head rapidly, an excited giggle rising in his throat. "I can't believe I get my own room at the office."

  They both got into the car, and Summer put her keys in the ignition. "I just hope it doesn't take too long for us to get it ready for you."

  Eric turned his head and looked at her, nothing but adoration in his eyes. "Ms. Raines, you could keep me in a cage, and I would be happy."

  Summer licked her lips, swallowing around the lump that formed in her throat. "We would never put you in a cage, Eric."

  Eric didn't lose his exuberant smile. "I didn't think so; you guys are too nice, but, you know…" He shrugged and looked out the window, tone still peppy. "Like, if you couldn't get the permanent residency approved or ran out of funding or if I was bad…" He shrugged again. "Well, I would still be happy. That's all I meant."

  Summer's heart fluttered, but she maintained her outward composure. She wanted Eric to have a very specific idea of who she was: calm, strong, compassionate, but above all, level-headed. She wanted Eric to know he could tell her anything, and she would never respond with shock or disgust or anger. She wanted to be a person Eric instinctively classified as safe.

  "Eric," she said softly, putting a hand on his knee. "We will never put you in a cage. If you do something wrong, you are still keeping your room. It will be yours, and no one will take it from you. If, for some reason, you couldn't go to your room, you would come home with someone on the team." She smiled a bit, meeting his eyes and praying he saw nothing but care and compassion. "Okay?"

  Eric considered the words for a moment, and then he began to smile and nod. It was slight, just a faint jerk of the head and a twitch of the lips, but it was there.

  "Thank you, Ms. Raines." His smile broadened a bit. "Thank you so much." He leaned toward her, reaching out an arm, but then came to an abrupt stop. "Um…"

  Summer simply kept looking at him. "What is it?" she prodded gently.

  "Well, it's just…" Eric dropped his arm and fidgeted in his seat. "I just… Mr. Prichard said that sometimes… sometimes friends hug each other. You just… you just made me really happy with what you said, and I was wondering… I was thinking maybe…" He looked down, as if ashamed. "Can I hug you, Ms. Raines?"

  "Of course you can, Eric. You can always, always hug me."

  Eric let out a little noise of delight and threw his arms around her, squeezing tightly with another whispered, "Thank you, Ms. Raines."

  "You are so very welcome, Eric."

  It was a good thing he couldn't see her face. She didn't want him to feel responsible for her tears.

  * * *

  "Is that… is that a planner?"

  Sam looked up from the book in front of him, startled.

  Summer covered her mouth, clearly trying not to laugh. "What, are you a soccer mom now?"

  Sam maintained a scowl for no more than three seconds, and then he caved. "Soccer dad, thank you very much." He looked back down at the planner. "Kenzie actually has been talking about joining a soccer team."

  Summer approached the desk and looked over his shoulder. "Seriously, why the planner? You usually keep everything on your phone." She squinted and leaned a little closer. "Are you color coding your ink?"

  Sam let out a sigh and looked up at her, irritation seeping from every pore. "Yes, Summer, I'm color coding the ink in my planner." He once again failed to stay angry. "It's for Eric. Well, it's for me, but it's for me for him."

  Summer gave him a questioning look, and with a twist of embarrassment in his gut, he began to explain.

  "My schedule is in black ink, and anything scheduled for Eric is in blue. For example…" He pointed to July 27th. "He has an appointment with the new psychiatrist next week. I'm in a meeting that day, so…" He held up the red pen. "Darren is going to stick around and keep an eye on things, which it says right there. If the date is circled in red, it means Eric can stay with Darren that night."

  "What color am I?"

  Sam looked up from his project, a slight grin tugging at his lips. "Pink," he said

  "Cute," Summer said. “And not a bit sexist. What are you using for his social appointments?”

  "Social appointments?" Sam echoed, both amused and surprised by Summer's sudden and intense involvement in Eric's life.

  "You know what the job is like, Sam. If we don't schedule things like taking him for coffee or getting him a library card, it'll never happen. He's never going to learn to interact with people in a healthy way if he doesn't get out." Summer snapped her fingers and pointed at him. "We should get him a map. Denny said it really freaked him out when he got lost, but with his memory, it would be easy for him to memorize the layout of everything in and around Denver. It would be a great way for him to learn independence. You know, running for coffee by himself or just taking a walk around the area."

  Sam leaned back in his chair and watched her carefully, a faint smile touching his features. "You seem to have put a lot of thought into this." He paused. "Why the sudden interest?"

  Summer frowned, a bit offended. "What do you mean?"

  "Well, everyone on this team is invested in Eric, but he's been here for… eight days now, and all of a sudden, you're just…" Sam rolled his hand, letting her brain fill in the blank for him. "Did something happen?"

  Summer looked down at her hands, toying with the ring on her right index finger. "A lot of things happened,” she said, but she didn’t go into detail.

  "Is there… something else you came in here for?" he ventured, watching her cautiously.

  Summer inhaled to clear her sinuses, and when she looked back up at him, there was no moisture in her eyes. "Yes. Jill Molson from DHS called and said we have a case. She said it's sensitive, and she wants to discuss it with you, personally, in her office."

  Sam couldn't help the instinctual sensation of dread brought on by imminent interaction with their DHS liaison, but he tried to maintain his professionalism. "I'll go there now. Gather everyone in the conference room?"

  "Can do." Summer nodded and left to follow orders.

  Sam let out a sigh and got to his feet, deciding there was no point in putting off the inevitable. He grabbed his cell phone and headed for the door, stopping just long enough to glance at the stack of North Forest Hospital files he and Darren had only gotten halfway through.

  Easy, Prichard. Rome wasn't built in a day.

  Sam shook his head. He had a job to do.

  * * *

  "I'm sorry you had to stay behind because of me."

  Summer looked up from the case file in her hands and found herself mesmerized by Eric's outfit for the third time that day.

  Blue jeans, a white button-down shirt with long sleeves, and a thin cotton sports jacket, which he let hang open. At least he wasn’t wearing a tie. He had walked into the office that morning with a black ball cap on his head, plain sneakers on his feet, and a giddy smile on his face.

  But it looked right on him. Summer couldn't explain it—maybe it was the way he wore it, or maybe it was the obvious happiness it gave him—but for whatever reason, it looked right.

  "Uh…" Summer blinked and shook her head. "Sorry, what?"

  "I apologized for keeping you here." Eric shifted in his seat and rubbed his nose a few times. "I know the only reason you stayed behind is because someone has to watch me."

  Summer set the file aside and shook her head. "Don't apologize. If I wanted to go along that badly, I would have asked Sam to keep someone else here." She smiled. "If you ask me, I got lucky. I have the whole conference room to myself, my favorite coffee shop is two blocks away, and I get to sleep in my own bed tonight."

  Eric relaxed a little, looking down at his lap with a tiny smile. "You're too nice."

  "No such thing." Summer began spreading pictures and papers out on the table. "Besides, I didn't sa
y anything that wasn't true."

  Eric rubbed his nose. "Can I…" He trailed off and didn't attempt to finish his question.

  "Can you…?" Summer pressed.

  Eric looked up for a moment and then looked back down. "Um, never mind." He rubbed his nose a few times, shifting from foot to foot. "Wanna work on the case?"

  Summer was curious, but Eric had already shared quite a bit with her the day before. She didn't want to make him feel like he had to tell her everything, so she let it drop with a smile.

  "Well, if we don't want to get in trouble with Sam, I think we definitely have to work on the case."

  Eric cracked a fleeting smile, looking over the information they had before tossing out a comment. "I don't like this case."

  Summer frowned a bit and looked at him. "What do you mean?"

  "They told us the staff at Landsdown Boys School cut the boys down because they thought they might still be alive. Just looking at the pictures the medical examiner sent over, I can't see how that's possible. They have extensive bruising around the neck and eyes, and if the time of death that came with the files is accurate, rigor mortis would have definitely set in by the time they were found. I can understand a random passerby thinking there was something they could do, but the staff would have at least some level of medical training."

  Summer nodded her head slowly, considering his argument. "So, we could be walking into a deliberately contaminated crime scene." She paused, following his train of thought to the next conclusion. "Which would mean we can't trust the statements of the people in charge."

  "Which means all the evidence is corrupted to some extent."

  Summer blew her hair out of her eyes and pulled her phone from her belt. "I'll message Sam and see what he wants us to do."

  Eric picked up one of the school transcripts. "You should also tell them not to assume these are suicides." He read the whole sheet in thirty-seven seconds. "Donnie Halper didn't back out of a suicide pact."