Killer Genius

by David Archer

  "I don't know what really went on in there, Detective Darren." Melanie sounded unusually somber, particularly considering her pink sweatpants and white hoodie with glitter all over. "All I know is… North Forest Hospital has more to hide than some unfair treatment that civil rights activists can get angry about. You don't euthanize people and refuse to share intel with other divisions of the government and potentially blow up your own building to hide something like that." She shook her head, red waves falling over her shoulders. "It's gotta be bigger than that."

  Darren looked at the schematics again and slowly nodded, lips drawn into a grim line. "You're right about that, kid."

  Darren sighed and pulled his phone from his hip, mentally preparing himself for whatever might follow his call. He was just about to dial when he stopped, turning to look at the young woman on the sofa—wide eyes trained on her screens, fingers flying, red hair stubbornly falling back into her face no matter how many times she pushed it back—and he smiled.

  "Hey." Darren nudged her on the arm and waited until she looked at him to continue. "You did a really good job, kid."

  Melanie blinked, stared for a moment, blinked some more, and began to move her mouth. "I, uh—oh, well, I—thanks, I mean—it's nice to, um, to be helpful, and to—to have someone listen, you know, like all the way to the end and—yeah, thanks, I mean—just—just thanks." She blushed and pushed her hair back, smiling to herself in that way children often did when they received the approval they were so desperate for. "Thanks."

  Darren hummed quietly and looked back at his phone, punching the two and holding it down until Sam's ID showed up on his screen.

  "Let's rock and roll, kid." Darren held his fist out where Melanie could reach it.

  Melanie looked at it for a moment, and then she bumped fists with him. "Most awesome, sir Darren. Most awesome."

  * * *

  Sam looked at his cell phone, taking a moment to reread the text and make sure he knew exactly what he had permission to do.

  Summer We have a green light to investigate North Forest Hospital as it relates back to the bombing ONLY. Still working on clearance for a full investigation.

  "Georgie, I want to…" Sam snapped his phone shut, "…talk to you about North Forest Hospital."

  Georgie stayed just as still as he had for the past several hours, eyes downward.

  Sam set his phone down on the table where Georgie could see it, and then he leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. He maintained his air of nonchalance, but truthfully, he was starting to get frustrated. He could read Georgie easily—probably more than Georgie realized; his face was so young and expressive—but that could only get him so far.

  Sam knew Georgie felt guilty about the people he had hurt, including the North Forest Hospital staff, though his guilt was significantly less intense in that area. He didn't regret the damage he had done to the building. He wasn't off-put by any of Sam's reiterating the chain of events, so that was most likely accurate, but Georgie appeared unsettled by the idea that Sam knew a little bit of what North Forest Hospital did behind the scenes. Georgie kept tensing, almost imperceptibly, as if waiting for a trap to spring.

  But that didn't tell Sam anything new.

  Well, maybe a new line of questioning can.

  "What do you think North Forest Hospital is going to do to punish you for the bomb?"

  Georgie didn't do anything, and he didn't seem afraid. Odd.

  "Oh. Maybe they won't, then. Though I do wonder why you would think that." Sam let the statement hang for a moment, and he caught the faintest shade of fear passing through Georgie's eyes. "I've been given permission to investigate North Forest Hospital as it relates back to this case." He let that linger, too, and then continued on. "I have several detectives at the hospital where the consultants are recovering, and everyone we've talked to says you stick to yourself more than other consultants. I spoke with your psychiatrist, and she said you were antisocial. However…" Sam uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, resting his arms on the table and tilting his head down to get a look at Georgie's face. "…your fellow consultants say you're just as non-violent as you are non-participatory. You haven't had an official reprimand in over four years, and several of the guards who work on your ward say you're better behaved than anyone else in the facility."

  Georgie shifted a bit, eyes glassy and somewhat dilated, but he didn't say a word. He didn't make any noise at all, he just kept his head down and tried to stay as still as possible.

  "Would you like to hear my theory, Georgie?"

  Georgie jerked his head to the right. It was a slight movement, and he only did it once, but it was still a response. It was his first response, after almost ten hours of questioning, and it was such an odd thing to finally respond to.

  "I'm sorry, Georgie, but that was a rhetorical question." Sam gauged the increasingly nervous body language, approaching the topic cautiously. Georgie didn't want to hear Sam's theory, so Sam was moving into dangerous territory; territory Georgie was afraid of. "I think you don't talk to anyone because it's against the rules."

  Georgie pulled on his handcuffs a bit. Once again, it was a quick and sharp movement that didn't get very far, but also once again, it was more response than he had given since his detainment.

  "Most of the other consultants have found little ways to communicate despite the rules, but not you. I think you're withdrawn because you're afraid to break the talking rule, not because you're antisocial."

  Georgie frowned tightly and tensed up for a moment, every muscle in his body going tight before he relaxed, turning into a ragdoll on the chair. His head continued to hang down, his shoulders slouched, his hands dangled from their cuffs…

  Georgie went catatonic.

  Sam barely kept himself from letting out a sigh, but he didn't want to relay any kind of disappointment or dissatisfaction. If Sam gave Georgie even the faintest idea that he was prone to anger in any way, Georgie could be too afraid to tell him anything even after Sam eased him back out of his shell.

  "Georgie." Sam lowered his voice, softening it a bit. "What did North Forest Hospital do to you?"

  Georgie looked like a dead man, just as he had when Sam first entered the room three hours earlier.

  "We've heard a lot of things from consultants we've spoken to. Not necessarily about you, just… things… and we've seen some concerning behaviors. We're giving these concerns our full attention." Sam kept his tone level and almost kind, a conversational lilt to his voice as he continued. "You might recognize some of the names my detective sent me. If they're familiar to you, you might know about some of these concerns we have." He pulled out his phone and scrolled until he found Summer's text message. "Here we go… let's talk about…"

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  "Lonnie Winston?" Summer whispered the name as she entered the room, blue eyes wandering over the various pieces of equipment, tubes, and wires. "644021, are you awake?"

  There was a noncommittal moan from the sheets, and after a steady inhale, brown eyes flickered open and peeked up at her from underneath a mop of dark brown curls.

  Summer smiled kindly and held up her ID. "Hi. Summer Raines, Windlass Security." She saw the fear cross his face but pressed on, keeping her voice soft. "Is it alright if I call you Lonnie?"

  Lonnie looked at her for a moment or two, and then he offered a slight nod, suspicion casting a shadow over his features.

  Summer offered another small smile. "Do you remember anything about the explosion, Lonnie?"

  Lonnie licked his lips and looked at his bandaged hands and arms, confusion twisting his lips and creasing his brow. "I was…" His voice was raspy, and he coughed a few times before clearing his throat and starting again. "Sorry. Uh, I was in the library, and I saw 2219652219 go by with something in his arms. It looked like, uh, like a stack of books, maybe? But I assume… given that there was an explosion… the books were hollowed out." He coughed a few times and tried to rub at his chest, but his hands
were completely wrapped in bandages, and it looked like moving the burned limbs hurt him. "I tried to… visually estimate the dimensions, but the way he was carrying the item made it tough. He, um, he had a jacket on, a dark blue hoodie, unzipped, and it was sort of wrapped around whatever he was holding. He—" Lonnie broke off into a coughing fit, quickly trying to bury his mouth in his shoulder.

  Summer grabbed the water from the bedside table and held it where he could reach, holding the straw near his lips. "Here."

  Lonnie coughed a few more times and then caught a breath, sucking on the straw shortly after. He pulled away and took another second or two to breathe. "Sorry…"

  Summer shook her head, setting the water aside. "Don't apologize. Just… take your time." She pressed her lips together, wondering exactly how many consultants were as timid and jumpy as Eric. "You were telling me about seeing 2219 and the jacket he was wearing."

  Lonnie cleared his throat and nodded a bit, taking a deep breath before replying. "I only saw him for a few seconds, and he was…" He coughed a little and then gave her a cautious look. "Could I… possibly have another drink, please?"

  Summer immediately grabbed the drink and held it where he could latch on to the straw. "Of course. Please, just ask, and I'll get it for you." She watched him for a moment, sadness creasing the corners of her eyes. "Don't drink too fast."

  Lonnie pulled his lips off the straw and gave her a brief but genuine smile, his baby face making him seem younger than his file said he was. "Thank you." He cleared his throat a few times and then began to tell his story again. "Um, as I was saying, he was using the jacket to hide what he was doing. We aren't allowed to talk, so I couldn't ask him why…" Lonnie trailed off for a moment, eyes losing some of their focus as an almost haunted expression crossed his face. "He never talked to anyone, really. He was so quiet… non-violent… I get bored sometimes, and I… calculate random statistics to pass the time. I calculated the probability of various people on or around my ward using violence to get what they wanted. 2219 was… he was in the bottom five. He's just…"

  Lonnie looked at Summer then—really looked at her, eyes bright and focused and pained and locked on hers—and he opened his mouth like he had something of grave importance to tell her. It lasted all of two seconds, and then he sort of… deflated, sinking into the sheets and dropping his eyes back to his injured arms.

  "He's not violent," Lonnie whispered.

  Summer waited for him to continue, but he didn't. So, Summer softened her voice and looked at him with kind, sincere eyes. "Lonnie, look at me."

  He did as she asked, and Summer held his gaze for a long moment. She scanned his face, peering into his eyes, and she decided to go with her gut. She might not have had as much time to script her interactions as she would have liked, but it was her job to read people and communicate on the fly. Sam would follow her lead as best he could.

  "Lonnie," she began, "are you trying to tell me 2219 isn't what North Forest Hospital is going to paint him as?"

  Lonnie licked his lips, hesitantly hopeful, tension crawling across his shoulders.

  "Because if you want to tell me something North Forest Hospital is going to disagree with, that's okay." She folded her hands in front of her but kept them in plain sight. "I know it's hard to believe, but I'm on your side, not theirs."

  Lonnie swallowed, eyes sliding across her face as he examined her. "Your side is their side," he said quietly.

  "I swore an oath to protect and serve." Summer gestured vaguely to the hospital bed. "You need protecting and serving." She smiled briefly but let it fade, silence lingering between them for a moment before she tried to relay as much safety and understanding as she could in one paragraph. "I know the government failed you. We let things get bad, and you had to pay for that. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't right, but some of us still remember what our IDs represent, and I need you to believe me when I say we are going to make it better."

  Lonnie looked at Summer for a long time. He scanned her like Eric scanned crime scenes and case files, gathering information and calculating and analyzing, equations swirling in his coffee-colored eyes. His brow crinkled, his chin wobbled ever-so-a bit, and then he offered the faintest smile Summer had ever seen.

  "I do."

  Summer returned his smile tenfold, genuine gratitude shining on her face. "Thank you, Lonnie." She licked her lips and looked over her shoulder at the clock on the wall. "I need to ask you some more questions about the current case, and then I'd like to ask you a bit about North Forest Hospital itself, okay?"

  Lonnie nodded his head, that little smile still lingering on his lips. "Yeah, I can do that."

  "Great. Tell me about what happened after 2219 went past the—"

  "Summer." Eric swung into the room with a somewhat frazzled appearance. "We have a problem."

  Summer opened her mouth to ask for specifics, but she was answered by a shout, distant and barely decipherable underneath the pleasantly surprised, "Eric?" from Lonnie.

  "Just point," a voice snapped. "644021. Just give me a general direction, and I'll take it from there."

  "Eric, stay with Lonnie." Summer slipped out of the room in time to see an angry young man pushing past a nurse to storm down the hall.

  "Kenny," an older gentleman said, trailing behind him with yet another man trailing behind him. "This isn't helping things."

  Summer squared her shoulders and began for Kenny head-on, already reaching for her ID.

  Kenny saw her coming and pulled out an ID of his own when there was about a yard between them. "FBI, get out of my way."

  Summer held up her own credentials, intercepting him when he tried to go around her. "Windlass Security, absolutely not."

  Kenny came to a sudden stop and looked at her with eerily familiar, dark brown eyes. They flashed and burned, frustration written clearly on his face, and he probably would have shouted some more if the gentleman from before hadn't put a hand on his shoulder.

  "Kenny, calm down."

  Summer slowly folded her ID and put it back in her pocket, never once letting her eyes leave her target. "What do you want with Lonnie?"

  "What I w—" Kenny stopped suddenly, and his entire demeanor shifted. Like magic, the anger was gone, replaced with a suspicious confusion that held none of his former malice. "What did you just say?"

  Summer frowned, but he spoke again before she could even think about replying.

  "Sorry. Uh, no cop has ever called him Lonnie before except…" Kenny looked at her for a few more moments and then cleared his throat, extending his hand. "Kenny Winston. Lonnie is my little brother." He shook her hand and gestured to the older gentleman on his right as well as the man behind him. "Our father, Lester Winston, and Dr. Larry Ingvar, family friend."

  "Summer Raines." Summer shook their hands in turn, overtaken by an 'aha' moment as the introduction sank in. "And I understand. I would be… upset, too." She would be murderous. "Uh, you'll be happy to hear Lonnie is doing well. He suffered a minor concussion, but he's awake and alert. He also has some pretty bad burns on his arms. He dragged another kid out of the fire, a, uh…" Summer pulled her notebook from her pocket and flipped it open, paging through until she found what she was looking for. "Belinda Patel. Her injuries are more severe, and she inhaled a lot of smoke. I spoke with the doctors, and they don't know if she's going to make it, but… she's young and strong, and they seem very hopeful for her."

  Kenny nodded rapidly, seeming more interested in shutting her up so he could go see his brother, but Lester and Dr. Ingvar both shared a slower, more sympathetic nod. Lester had a proud glimmer in his eyes.

  Summer cleared her throat and tucked her notebook back into her pocket. "I'll need to speak with each of you before you leave, but I understand you want to visit. Lonnie is in room 320, with another kid named Eric. Eric needs to stay as long as you're in the room with Lonnie, and unfortunately, there's a maximum of three visitors at a time, so…"

  Dr. Ingvar immediately stepped back a
nd waved the other two along. "Go, go."

  There were no false pleasantries or obligated 'are you sure?'s; Kenny and Lester were walking away before Dr. Ingvar even finished the sentence.

  Summer watched them for a moment, and then she turned back to Dr. Ingvar. "You don't mind if I ask you some questions while you wait?"

  Dr. Ingvar shook his head with a knowing smile. "Not at all."

  "Thank you." Summer folded her arms across her stomach and looked at Dr. Ingvar inquisitively. "North Forest Hospital isn't the most helpful when it comes to information sharing. What's Lonnie's story?"

  Dr. Ingvar looked toward the ceiling and let out a wistful sigh, his eyes growing almost reminiscent. "I met Lonnie when he was my student. He was bored out of his mind, pretending his intelligence level was lower than it was, and we would often talk after hours or in between classes. He used me as an excuse to be late from time to time, and in exchange, I got mentally stimulating talk I couldn't get from most of my students."

  Summer nodded silently, listening to every word and trying to find parallels between Eric's story and Lonnie's. They both faked their intelligence level. I wonder how common that is and what lengths consultants will go to.

  "We're well past the statute of limitations for harboring a kid, so I don't mind telling you I often helped him cover his tracks. I warned him time and time again to be careful…" Dr. Ingvar shook his head with a short sigh. "Lonnie was coasting along with a recorded IQ of 158, right under North Forest Hospital's 160 cutoff…" He clucked his tongue and let out another sigh, shaking his head at the ceiling, as if he could still see the moment things went south. "But he was onto something. He was sixteen, and he didn't want to wait until he was old enough to explain his advanced results. He sent his research out of the country, to a third-world country where he felt it could do the most help and intellect isn't policed." Another shake of the head, this one slower. "But, as with all things of worth, there was a cost."

  Summer licked her lips and continued to listen, blue eyes focused, examining Dr. Ingvar's body language. He appeared a bit vague, almost spacey, but his emotions were genuine, and there was no sign of deceit.