She came back to awareness slowly, her mouth so dry her breath came in rasps. She tore her eyes from Jenel’s body. The water beside the bed caught her eye and keeping as far away from the corpse as possible, she made her way to it. Not bothering with a glass, she lifted the small carafe to her mouth and drank eagerly, spilling much of it as she quenched her dry throat, then fell onto the bed.
Pulling her knees to her chest, she returned her gaze to Jenel’s still form and considered for the first time what might have killed him.
“I did.”
The words slipped through her lips with such ease she was tempted to look about the room. She expected guilt to strike at her confession, but only a growing sense of satisfaction that it was she who’d taken the sadist out. A smile graced her mouth, her heart beating faster, stronger.
“Well,” she stood to her feet. “Time to make this creep useful for once in his sorry life.” She walked across the room, stood next to the body of her rapist and gripped an available wrist. Tightening her hold, she grunted slightly as she strained against the man’s weight.
“I need to piss.”
Oliver looked up from his magazine and focused on his prisoner. “What?”
A quiet look of desperation and embarrassment shone in McKenny’s eyes. “I said…I need to take a piss.”
Oliver continued to stare at him, sighed and put down his magazine. This was the craziest mess of an investigation he’d ever hoped to work on. Despite his story and protests, Alicia had flatly declared that if they wanted help, her 11:00am appointment had to be dealt with first, which meant waiting for an hour. Now, McKenny’s bladder was throwing him a curve.
Oliver shifted in his seat. “You’re a big boy, McKenny, hold it!”
He watched McKenny’s face grow red and the fight within the man to control the obvious anger.
“Look, Peidmont.” McKenny squirmed on the couch. “I know you don’t like me, but listen to me.” He stared earnestly at Oliver. “I have to go to the bathroom! I don’t care if you uncuff me or not, but if you don’t do something quick, your doctor will need a new couch in about two minutes, tops!”
Oliver watched him squirm and knew he was telling the truth.
“Shit!” he said, scowling.
“Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused me? I should let you piss your pants for the sheer satisfaction!” Glaring at the squirming giant, Oliver stood, then led him down the hall and into the bathroom. “Listen, McKenny,” Oliver stated, positioning him before the toilet. “I’m going to uncuff one hand....”
“Peidmont, just hurry!” McKenny had started doing a little jig.
Oliver continued, “The other will stay cuffed while you do your business. Are we clear?”
“Yes. Yes! Just do it!”
Oliver slipped the key in, turned and pulled the cuff free of McKenny’s right wrist. He braced himself for anything as McKenny’s free hand whipped around, followed by desperate fumbling. The sound of a healthy stream of liquid echoed off the bathroom walls as well as a deep sigh.
Thirty minutes later, a somewhat overweight woman left Dr. Merrill's office, red eyed and weepy, a tissue dabbing at what still flowed. She was followed a few seconds later by Alicia, who escorted her to the door.
“Okay, Loraine, I’ll see you next week at the same time.” Obviously fearing more tears, the woman simply nodded vigorously and left without a word.
“Oliver, Mr. McKenny, let’s go into my office.”
“Get up, McKenny," Oliver said, turning toward his prisoner. "Time to get you back to your old self. I sure hope it’s worth it, because I’ve got just four hours to find those papers your boss wants.”
McKenny leaned forward, then slowly raised himself to a standing position before trudging like a death row inmate toward his executioner. Oliver walked behind him until all three were in their original seats.
“From what you have told me, Oliver,” Alicia began. “Mr. McKenny has lost a portion of his memory as a result of some recent electric shock. Is that correct?” Oliver nodded.
“And you are hoping,” the doctor continued, “that I can restore his lost memory through hypnosis.”
Again Oliver nodded, somehow feeling foolish. “You’re my only hope on this, Alicia. I can’t go back to JenelCo with him the way he is now. I need the information locked in his head.”
“Do I have any say in this?” McKenny broke in. Both Oliver and the doctor turned toward him. “Maybe I don’t want my memories back, maybe I like the way I am now.”
“Don’t even start,” Oliver began as McKenny turned to respond.
“But Mr. McKenny!” Dr. Merrill jumped in before either could go further. “It simply doesn’t work like that.” Both men quieted, turned toward her and she continued. “The human mind is wonderfully adaptive and resilient, something far more complex than anything else on earth. Because of this, what each of you wants is, quite frankly, not possible.”
"Alicia!" Oliver sat bolt upright. “A woman’s life is on the line here. You’ve got to be able to do something!”
“What about my life, Peidmont?” McKenny retorted. “Don’t I deserve a second chance?” Oliver ignored this and returned his attention to Alicia.
“Listen, both of you!” she said firmly. Let me try to explain why what you want just isn’t possible.” Both policeman and criminal opened, then silently closed their mouths as the doctor held up both palms like a traffic cop.
“What everyone calls 'personality' is the sum of each person’s experiences, memories and choices with a little help from our genes. Imagine a pot of soup that has a million ingredients that become flavors. After a while, all of them settle into one overall flavor which you and I might call a personality.” She looked at both men, saw they were getting the idea and continued.
“When Mr. McKenny received that substantial shock, it was like all those ingredients were stirred up again and as a result, you might say his personality has taken on a new, though temporary flavor.” Both started to reply but again she lifted her hands, then turned to Oliver.
“What you want, Oliver dear, is for me to put all those ‘Ingredients’ back the way they were as quickly as possible. It is true that hypnosis can be quite effective in helping recover lost memories, but only when those memories have been suppressed, usually as a result of some traumatic event.
"In Mr. McKenny's case, you might liken his memories to being scrambled, something that will probably be corrected only over a period of time. I’m sorry Oliver, that is simply the way of it.” She turned toward McKenny.
“You, young man, want me to do just the opposite. You would like me to keep stirring that pot of ingredients so you won’t, once again, become the amoral soul you were. The problem, as I said before, is that the human mind is a powerful and self healing mechanism; one which has no rival. Eventually, most of your memories will return and more than likely, your personality and character will return to its original “flavor.” Further electric shocks would keep your old self suppressed, but irreparable brain damage would also be the result.”
There was some sympathy for McKenny in her tone and for a moment, all three were silent.
“I will say this, Mr. McKenny,” she continued. “You have some hope of changing if you really want to. Recall what I said; your personality is largely made up of experiences and choices. If you truly desire it, you may alter who you are by making new choices and thus different experiences. The decision to do so however, is completely up to you and don’t think it will be easy because I assure you, it won’t.”
Oliver slumped in his chair, staring at a small porcelain figurine on the doctor’s desk before him.
“Then I’ve wasted eight hours trying to get this creep to help me save his wife and I’m no further along than when I started. Wonderful! Fantastic! I might as well go back to Jenel right now and hand him my gun.”
“Why, Oliver, what an excellent idea!” Alicia leaned forward eagerly.
Oliver scowled a
t his former therapist.
“Alicia, this is no joke. If I don’t return with the missing documents in less than four hours, this man Jenel is going to kill McKenny’s wife!”
“Oliver,” the doctor suddenly clapped her hands twice, “this 'Jenel' has taken more than Mrs. McKenny prisoner. He’s also taken you captive as well!” She leaned back in her chair which produced a slight squeak that seemed to punctuate her statement.
"Think back to what I told you about people who demand things, what are they really wanting and why they want them?”
Oliver shook his head at her questions and tried to ignore the anxiety that somewhere a clock was running down. “Alicia, please. Skip the counseling technique! What are you saying?”
“Only this, Oliver,” she smiled at him. “Give this man Jenel what he wants.”
“And what is that?” he asked, his patience thinning.
“Isn’t that obvious?” Alicia's wizened smile grew sad. “To feel powerful at other people’s expense.”
Oliver thought about this briefly before speaking.
“You’re saying that Jenel knew I wouldn’t be able to find the papers?”
“Possibly." The doctor's hands formed into a steeple below her aged chin as she spoke this. "Let us consider the idea that no papers exist at all. Could this be an ugly game to humiliate you so he could feel powerful in the process?”
“She might be onto something, Peidmont." McKenny stirred at this. "If I remember right, this Jenel is known to have a really...twisted sense of humor.”
“What if,” Oliver suddenly felt very uneasy, “what if this whole thing was simply to get us both out of the way in order to be with Jenny?”
“That’s McKenny’s wife, he said, turning to Alicia. "McKen...Collin,” Oliver swallowed hard. "Do you remember if Jenel was ever interested in Jenny?“
McKenny's eyes grew blank, then he shook his head. “I...can’t remember. But I do know he was quite active with the ladies around the office. Yeah! He even had a personal suite at the main building.”
“A personal suite?” Oliver’s breath caught in his throat.
“Oliver, Mr. McKenny!” The doctor’s stern voice ended their speculation. “You need to stay focused, especially you, Oliver. Racing to her right this minute would only hurt matters.”
“I thought that was what you were suggesting!” He shot back angrily.
“Oliver, please.” Alicia’s voice softened. “I am here to help, so try to hold your temper.”
Oliver inhaled deeply, then nodded. “Okay, okay. What do you suggest?”
“First things first, Oliver,” the doctor leaned forward and shot a piercing glance at McKenny. “I have two questions for Mr. McKenny. How much does he really want to change and, secondly, has he had any experience in the theater?”
“Hi, Chief!”
Willy strode into Chief Williams' office and sat down across from his boss. Williams looked up from the report before him and smiled, his beak-like gaze peered intently at him. Few people other than Peidmont walked into Williams' office uninvited without regretting it.
“Hello, Johnson,” Williams pushed the report aside. “Glad you could make it to work, dressed in your off duty clothes and all.”
A siren drew close and seconds later, a familiar black Lincoln town car skidded to a halt in the small lot. Benson and another man leaped out of their poorly parked vehicle and walked briskly toward the station entrance.
“Feds,” Williams spoke the single word as he watched them through his office window. His tone however, made clear his opinion of such government representatives.
“Chief,” Willy pulled his gun out and placed it on his boss’s desk. “I need to be put in protective custody. Those two yahoos are here for me.”
John Collinson walked past the open doorway, then stopped and looked in.
“Willy? Thought you were out with one of your kids today?”
He looked at the detective, shook his head and said, “Long story, John.”
Williams picked up Willy’s gun and released the clip, catching it neatly in his free hand. The sound of arguing erupted in the outer office, with Benson’s voice audible above the rest.
Williams grimaced and turned to Willy. “Did you do what they think you did?”
“Hell, no!”
Williams nodded and settled back into his chair as the sound of approaching feet grew. A moment later, Benson and his partner stormed past Collinson into Williams' office, both coming to stand behind Willy.
“Gentleman..." Williams scowl grew more pronounced. "May I help you?”
“Yeah, Chief...er,” Agent Benson quickly eyed the name plate on the desk. “...Williams. We have the unfortunate duty of arresting Officer Johnson here. It’s a federal matter and you’ll be given a full report in a few days.”
“Let’s go, Johnson." Benson said looking down at Willy while placing a hand on his shoulder. "Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
The distinctive sound of a gun clip being inserted, pulled the agent’s attention back to Williams and it was tough to call what was on the chief’s face a smile. Both lips were now pressed into a single thin line with no noticeable upturn at either end and yet that was the impression Willy got as Williams sat holding the gun.
“What’s your name, Agent?“ the Chief asked, seeming to play with the weapon while not looking at the two agents.
“Benson.” The agent responded after a slight hesitated.
“No, Agent Benson, I meant your full name.”
“Agent Harry Benson.” Benson said, removing his hand from Willy’s shoulder, his tone now icy.
“Where do you live, Agent Harry Benson?” Williams began flicking the gun’s safety, first on, then off and back again.
“That is not relevant to this case, Chief Williams.” Benson placed his hand once again on Willy's shoulder, this time without taking his eyes off Williams.
“You know Agent Harry Benson.” Williams' face suddenly lost all semblance of humor as he pointed the gun squarely at the man’s chest, still without looking at him. “I think it is very relevant.”
Benson stiffened and very slowly, lifted his hand from Willy’s shoulder.
“You see,” Williams said, rising from his chair and finally making eye contact. “I live here, at this office more hours of the day than I do in my own home. You might say that makes Officer Johnson here or Detective Collinson over there a part of my extended family.” He stepped around his desk and sat on its edge. “Have I ever come into your home or office, Agent Harry Benson, and tried to cart away a member of your family, simply based on my word?”
Williams rubbed his chin, absentmindedly.
“No, no, I’m pretty sure I haven’t.” Williams fixed Benson with a stare so cold the hair on Willy’s neck rose. “So please, Agent Harry Benson. Don’t ever think you can do such a thing in mine.”
Several minutes later, Benson and his partner left in their black Lincoln, angry promises that this “Incident would be brought before their superiors ASAP!” could be heard through the Chief’s window as they left.
Willy heard the chief encourage them to do so as he waved them toward their car, gun in hand and a moment later, their Lincoln town car sped away in a squeal of tires.
When Williams returned, he called Willy back into his office and once the door was shut, steeled himself for the worst tongue lashing since his dad was alive. Williams handed Willy his gun, came around his desk before sitting down with a sigh, then leaned his chair back against the wall.
“Willy,” the Chief said, rubbing both temples. “Please tell me Peidmont isn’t at the center of this.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Three quarters of the way to the door, with sweat beginning to soak her top, it suddenly dawned on Jenny that she couldn’t leave the CEO’s corpse just lying around. She released Jenel’s arm with a low thump onto the carpet and simply breathed for several seconds, enjoying the sensation as it cooled her burning lungs
. Her breath slowed and she looked about the room for a place to hide his body, but found only the small closet adjacent to the bed, which was clear across the room.
The term ‘dead weight’ had taken on new meaning early on in her inch by inch progress toward the door. With this realization, she almost wished Jenel had simply passed out from pain instead suffering an apparently fatal heart attack. With little else to do, Jenny reached down and gripped the dead man's wrist, now slippery with her sweat and once again began pulling him toward the door. Four minutes later, with Jenel’s head resting against the door, she positioned and then pressed his thumb against the small green plastic screen. A soft click near the door handle signaled her success and carefully turning the knob, pulled the door open.
From her stomach’s growling, Jenny guessed it must be near lunch time and hoped most employees were away in search of lunch. She stepped out into the hall and glanced in both directions. However, the temptation to simply head toward the nearest exit died when she failed to recognize where she was. The clipped echo of high heels from the opposite direction sent her back into the suite, forcing her to shut the door. Though she detected no pause as they continued down the hallway, Jenny knew there was no guarantee she hadn’t been seen. She noticed also that once the door was shut, it locked itself once again. Which meant once she left, there was no going back inside.
She sat on the bed and tried to think, doing her best to ignore the body lying on the floor across the room. Her mouth grew dry and as she drank what remained of the water, she noticed for the first time the small black phone tucked away on the lamp stand. Picking up the receiver, she listened for a dial tone, yet could hear nothing despite waiting several seconds. The phone in Collin’s office had seemed ordinary enough, yet this one seemed broken. Tempted to dial an operator, Jenny decided against. There was the possibility that someone might start asking questions, or worse. She put down the seemingly defective phone in frustration and decided to make a run for it.
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