Killer Genius

by David Archer

  * * *

  Denny ran his hand along the doorframe and let out a sigh, keeping it as restrained as he could. He was glad Sam was the one doing the talking, because he wasn't entirely sure he could make it through an entire talk with Section Chief Albert Harrelson without committing murder, but being the one to go through Eric's room was… daunting, to say the least.

  He's not here anymore. It doesn't matter.

  Denny took a quick breath and punched in the code he'd been given, waiting for the steel bars to slide up. He watched the simple room slowly enter his field of vision, no longer obstructed by the gate—tan walls, one bed with tan sheets, one tan pillow, a tan dresser possessing all of two drawers, and a prison-esque, stainless steel toilet—and then he stepped in. He walked over to the bed and raised the pillow, finding Eric's book exactly where he was told it would be.

  Eric doesn't have anything else. That didn't kill the curiosity welling up, and Denny approached the nearby dresser, pulling out the bottom drawer and finding three sets of green scrubs just like the ones Eric had been wearing when he first arrived.

  Shaking his head, Denny opened the next drawer up and found it empty. Of course. He doesn't own anything. Why even— He cut off his own question, immediately realizing the answer. Incentive. It reminds him, and all the other consultants, that they could have things to put in their drawers, they just have to do a special job first.

  Disgusted, Denny shut the drawer and took another look around. He didn't really know what he had been expecting. Seriously, did he think he was going to walk into Eric's room and find some obvious, organized evidence of all the kid had been through sitting on display?

  Though, if Denny were being completely honest, he would say the lack of evidence was evidence in and of itself. How could someone live in the same room for five years and not leave a trace of themselves anywhere? Had Eric never gotten bored and picked at the paint? Or tried to do some kind of gymnastics to get his blood pumping, only to accidentally wind up with scuff marks on the walls and footprints on the ceiling?

  Denny gave a sigh and tucked Eric's book against his stomach, half hiding it in his jacket. Not that he didn't have permission to take it, but it was one of the only things Eric had to his name, and it just… it just needed to be treated with some kind of reverence.

  Focus. This isn't the only thing you came here for.

  Denny left the ward, briefly considering an inspection of the occupied cells, and then he began down the hall toward what he knew to be the library. Gratefully, it was close enough to the elevators that he could pretend he'd gotten lost, and even without them, he wasn't too far from Eric's ward. He could come up with an excuse one way or the other.

  Whiz kid, I wish I had your eidetic memory right now.

  Eric had used that wonderful brain of his to draw a map of his floor from memory, and Denny had studied it obsessively, but his memory was far from photographic.

  No. Don't think about that. You're a professional. You know how to memorize a map, and you know what you're doing.

  Denny didn't know what it was about the North Forest Hospital building—maybe all the consultants, maybe knowing he didn't have the upper hand, maybe the smug look on Section Chief Harrelson's face when he began talking to Sam—but the whole building just threw him off his game.

  I should ask Whiz Kid if there's some sort of… psychological setup behind that.

  It would make sense. From the steel walls, laminate flooring, and fluorescent lights alone, he couldn't help but feel he was in some top-secret lab from a sci-fi movie. There was a certain… pressure exuded by his surroundings, a certain authority that dared outsiders to question the precise order maintained within the walls of the building.

  Denny shook it off and walked into the library, discreetly scanning the room as he crossed to the bookshelf. There were two guards—one posted at either end of the room—but Denny simply flashed his ID. As far as they knew, he wasn't anywhere he wasn't supposed to be, so he let the assumption stand between him and any unwanted questions, and he got down to business.

  Denny idly ran his finger along the book spines, skimming the titles as he prepared a precautionary lie in the back of his mind. He looked around the room—it was still empty, but according to Melanie, it wasn't going to stay that way for long—and then he got back to browsing the titles.

  Geeze. Is there anything here that isn't a textbook? Denny found one such book even as he had the thought, a slight frown curling the corner of his mouth as he pulled it out. To Kill a Mockingbird. Huh. He heard footsteps behind him, but he ignored them, opening the book and leafing through it.

  Denny stopped suddenly and grabbed his pocket as if he had just received a text. He tucked To Kill a Mockingbird under his arm with Love Conquers All and fished his phone out, sliding it open. There was no actual text, of course, but there was a small chip that he slipped out as he closed and re-pocketed the device. Of course, he had gotten his arms very twisted up with all that maneuvering, so it was relatively easy to slip the chip under the paper inside the back cover of To Kill A Mockingbird.

  Denny turned around to leave, adjusting his shirt. He looked up enough to see a young girl sitting on the sofa, and he dusted himself off. Only, after he brushed the shirt twice, he dusted in the wrong direction. Then he slipped his thumb between his pinky and ring fingers, stroking his cheek twice like he was trying to clear away dust or tears or both, walking toward the exit all the while.

  Denny returned to the hall, continuing to the elevators and hitting the button to summon a lift. No big deal, just him getting sidetracked on the way back from Eric's room. Sam and Harrelson were probably done talking, Denny would arrive with the book, he and Sam would leave, and all was well that ended well.

  Just, you know, with a chip inserted in the hardcover of a book and a kid on the receiving end of a cryptic, signed message from Melanie.

  That's just not right. Denny refrained from sighing, watching the numbers above the elevator slowly climb. She didn't even get a book. She just sat down and stared at the wall, but it's not like she knew I was making a drop-off, she just regularly does that. Anything to get out of those rooms; to get away from all the tan.

  Denny heaved a sigh and stepped onto the elevator.

  What a mess.

  * * *

  "Eric, are you uncomfortable?"

  Jade folded her arms beneath her cleavage and leveled a calm stare at the recently returned liaison. She reminded herself not to react, reminded herself why she had kept such a careful distance from Eric throughout his stay at Windlass.

  "Um, a little bit, ma'am." Eric shifted in his seat, scratching at his legs. "It's—it's okay, though."

  DHS nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Do you understand why these forms are necessary?"

  Eric tugged on the hot pink button-down shirt he had layered over his AC/Denver tee. "Um, I—I think so. Uh, it has to do with the investigation, right?"

  DHS didn't nod, which both concerned and surprised Jade.

  "It's less about the investigation and more about making these accusations against North Forest Hospital stick." DHS held her hands up a bit. "I know Sam has eight years of experience as a prosecutor, but I know several lawyers who have been in the game a lot longer. I contacted them while I was away, trying to get an idea of how we would approach the case after legal claims are made."

  Jade concealed her surprised at that, too, but she let some suspicion dance in her eyes. She didn't want DHS thinking she had been caught off-guard, but she was more than fine with DHS knowing she was going to watch the section chief's every move. What are you up to?

  "Okay," Eric said softly. "So, um, what's all this?"

  DHS pulled her reading glasses from her jacket and put them on, grabbing one of the many packets. "There are several things. This first one is a requisition for a tracking anklet."

  Eric squirmed a bit. "I—I wouldn't run, ma'am."

  We know, Eric. Jade swallowed the surge of ange
r.

  DHS shook her head calmly. "I don't think you would, but a good lawyer will question where you've been, who you've met with, and whether you've been supervised. We need to be able to defeat every argument the defense makes, completely and decisively. Tracking your movements, however unnecessary, is one way we can do this."

  Jade stamped down her initial reaction, unable to deny the truth in the statement. "Melanie should have one, too," she commented. "Especially because North Forest Hospital has her listed as a flight risk."

  Eric nodded, looking between the two women. "I understand. I won't fuss about wearing it."

  DHS nodded and set the packet aside, grabbing the next one. "I appreciate your cooperation. I'm sure much of this feels like being punished for good behavior."

  Eric shook his head, chewing on his lip.

  Jade allowed herself to relax a bit, shifting her brain from a mode designed to protect Eric into a mode designed to protect the case. Of course, it was still protecting Eric, but it was a long-term protection, and if DHS had other unfair ideas that could keep Eric safe from North Forest Hospital indefinitely… well, Jade was going to help, not hinder.

  "This is a list of people in Windlass I want you to start working with. I'll have Mr. Prichard go over it and make any necessary changes, but it's important that we have more than two emotionally distanced perspectives." DHS adjusted her glasses a bit and leaned back in her chair, letting out a quiet sigh. "Ms. Donaldson, while a good friend, is known for her overly caring nature. I know she took to you quickly, and that's wonderful, but it's something that will be used against us at every possible turn."

  Eric licked his lips and reached out cautiously. "May I see the list?"

  DHS handed the envelope across the desk, sitting in silence as Eric pulled out the sheets and sped through them. She made brief eye contact with Jade, and while Jade wasn't DHS's biggest fan, she acknowledged what DHS was trying to do and offered an affirmative nod to show her support.

  Eric put the papers away and handed the envelope back. "Thank you," he said quietly, fidgeting in his chair. "I… I, um… don't really know what I'm supposed to do with those people to, um, to help the case."

  DHS nodded her head, completely understanding, which earned more brownie points from Jade. "I want you to work with them and consult on cases outside of the ones Mr. Prichard's team handles. If 4013 is willing, I would like to have her do the same."

  It took a moment for Jade to register DHS was talking about Melanie, but Eric simply nodded and waited for DHS to keep going.

  "You know why North Forest Hospital places such heavy restraints on consultants and their contact with the outside world, right?" DHS folded her arms on her desk and leaned forward a bit, meeting Eric's eyes.

  Eric offered a jerky, almost nervous nod. "Yeah, um—because we're so smart, we could trick the general population into doing what we want. Or at least, that's the theory."

  DHS offered a nod of her own, significantly more controlled and dignified. "Exactly. That's something else the defense is going to use against us. They'll try and claim you've manipulated Mr. Prichard's team, first into sympathizing with you, then into sympathizing with consultants as a whole." DHS held up a finger, and if Jade didn't know better, she would have said she saw a faint smile tugging at the corner of DHS's mouth. "We have some advantages. One, this is Windlass. If anybody knows how to predict and resist manipulation, it's profilers. Two, if we can get you working with more and more agencies, the probability that you're manipulating all of them decreases."

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Eric nodded enthusiastically, his hand shooting up as if to ask permission to speak.

  Oh. Wait.

  He was asking for permission to speak.

  "Yes?" DHS asked, arching a brow a bit.

  "Could I make a suggestion, ma'am?"

  DHS nodded and listened.

  Eric cleared his throat and rubbed at his legs a little faster, clearly nervous and excited in equal measure. "Um, it might be beneficial to reach out to various police departments I've worked with since coming to Windlass. I know, um, I know my behavior hasn't been, um… stellar… but a combination of good and bad reports will be much more believable than entirely positive feedback, and, um, going on the assumption that this case will attract a lot of national attention, having the input of everyday, blue-collar workers and small-town heroes could be seen as more valuable to the public than the opinion of bureaucrats." He rubbed the back of his neck a few times and then began scratching there. "Um, depending on how far the case against North Forest Hospital goes, um, my suggestion could apply to police departments where any consultants have worked." He cleared his throat, scratching down his neck and then going after his legs again. "Um, may I, um… make… another suggestion?"

  DHS gestured to the space between them. "By all means."

  Eric nodded and swallowed. "Um, it might also be beneficial to get statements from consultants. I think… I think people would be surprised how many of us… aren't all that manipulative. Most…" He was clearly more off-put by his second suggestion than his first. "Um… most of us have been isolated for so long, we're… um, we just… don't care about a lot anymore. I, um… before I began… with…"

  DHS pursed her lips a bit, unsure of what to do, and she looked to Jade for help.

  Jade dropped her arms and stepped forward, pulling a chair up next to Eric and sitting down. "You were given permission to make a suggestion, Eric."

  Eric chewed on his lips and nodded, eyes misting up. "I…" He reached up and rubbed at his nose again. "Um, I just think… that if people knew… if they could see that consultants aren't angry or malicious or…" He chewed on his lip for a moment, sniffed, and dropped his head to stare at the floor. "We're just tired. If there were angry consultants, they were put down a long time ago. Those of us who are left, just… we just don't want to be where we are anymore." He looked up for a fraction of a moment. "I know—I know that sounds like… all the more reason to do anything to get out, because we do want to escape, but… for a lot of us… we don't see ourselves ever getting out… alive… and if…" He let out a frustrated noise and pressed his hands to his face, muttering unintelligibly under his breath.

  Jade reached out and put a hand on Eric's shoulder, squeezing once before returning her hand to her lap. "Eric, it's okay. Just tell Chief DHS what you wanted to tell her."

  Eric whimpered quietly, but then he nodded, and after another moment of silence and sniffling, he finally spat it out. "Most of us have attempted suicide several times. People don't do that when they think they can escape some other way. If consultants were sitting in North Forest Hospital, plotting ways to get out, scheming so we could make our lives a little more tolerable, a lot more of us would be able to hold on, but… the truth is, we've accepted that we're never getting out, and that means the only escape is…" He gave a shrug. "I don't know. It might hurt the case more than it would help it, but… I—I think it should be considered."

  DHS looked at Eric for a long time, sparing Jade a brief glance, and then she slid her chair back. She pulled a legal pad and pen from her desk drawer and prepared to write. "Eric 4383, do you think you could tell me a little about your experience with this?"

  Jade opened her mouth to protest, seeing no logical reason for that information to be shared, but Eric nodded his head a bit.

  "Yeah, um… about ten years ago… I was on a new medication, and the side effects were bad, and… and it was my mom's birthday, and I just… I really missed her, and…" Eric squirmed in place for a few moments, fingers clawing at his thigh again. "Then, about two years later, I, um, I made a friend… but we talked too much, and they took—took her away. So, I tried again, and, um, they put me on more medicine, but it just made things worse. It wasn't something… medicine could fix. I just… didn't want to be alone anymore. For a while after that, I was kinda okay. I worked on cases, and it kinda felt like I got a glimpse of the outside world, but… I knew they were never going
to let me out, and I… it went from being helpful to being painful… something to remind me about all the things I would never have, and I just… I just didn't want to be there anymore… so, um… I tried one more time. That was… four years ago, I think."

  DHS continued writing for several moments after Eric finished speaking, her head nodding a few times as she expanded the information in front of her. "So," she began, scratching down a few more things and then raising her eyes to Eric. "Out of the three attempts, two of them were triggered entirely by your situation. You didn't try to break you and your friend out of North Forest Hospital, and you didn't try to escape on your own. Both times, you deemed it pointless to try, and you felt you had to escape some other way."

  Eric nodded wearily, wiping at his eyes, but he appeared a little lighter when he looked up at DHS. "I do have depression… and it played a part, which I'm sure the defense will mention, but… but depression often leads to suicidal ideation because it traps you inside your own head, your own body… it makes you feel like things are never going to get better, like you'll always choke on air, like waking up will always be a battle, until you just can't take it anymore, and you…" He shook his head a few times. "Being in North Forest Hospital was different, but… not by much. You have no reason to wake up in the morning, you have no one and nothing to live for, and you know—or at least you feel—like that's just how it's going to be for… forever."

  Jade reached out and squeezed Eric's shoulder a moment, keeping her contact brief. Oh, Eric… I wish I could travel back in time, if only to tell you it would get better. If I could do nothing else for you, I wish I could have told you not to give up.

  DHS removed her reading glasses and set them down on her notepad. "Eric 4383, do you need to take a break?"

  Eric ran his hands through his hair and nodded, taking a deep breath with eyes screwed shut. "Yes, please, ma'am."