Leighton was immediately greeted by security personal. Before he had even turned off his SUV at the psychiatric hospital, he was met by two armed guards, one on each side of his vehicle. They checked his identification, and made numerous calls before he was allowed to proceed. After he had been deemed worthy, two more armed guards came from inside the building to escort him.
With these two guards was a small man wearing a lab coat. As Leighton waited for them to reach the car, since he wasn’t allowed to move until they told him to, he studied the small man. If this was Dr. Anthony Dublais, which Leighton presumed it was, his appearance didn’t seem to suit his telephone voice. He was definitely small, probably not over five foot 4, with a very slight build. Leighton estimated he wasn’t over 120 pounds, and most likely under.
From the distance he appeared to be an older man, possibly in his late fifties. His sandy hair was thinning rapidly on the top of his head, and the brilliant sun was beaming off of the scattered bald patches. The way the pattern fell actually looked like tufts of hair had been yanked out. It was impossible not to notice. He also wore the thickest glasses that Leighton had ever seen. It made his eyes appear to be over three times their actual size.
Aside from the lab coat, the man didn’t look professional in any way. He was wearing torn blue jeans that were much too long for him. Leighton could hear them dragging behind the strange man. The edges were no doubt torn, possibly missing altogether. They were well worn, as if the doctor didn’t have any other jeans he could wear. His shirt was a death metal band that Leighton had heard some of the younger kids talking about, The Revenge. It seemed a startlingly aggressive choice for a psychiatrist to wear around some of the cities, probably even the countries, most dangerous psychopaths. “I thought they weren’t supposed to wear anything like that, I knew a nurse who had a tattoo sleeve and was forced to wear long shirts because the images upset the patients” Leighton thought, beginning to question the credibility of the man he was about to meet.
“Detective Chase” said the little man in the death metal T-shirt. “I’m Scott Warrock,” he said extending his hand with more confidence than Leighton thought could come from such a mismatched person. “Dr Dublais has asked me to escort you to his office. Something has come up and he’s going to be a few minutes, so I’ll be the one going over Alex Fontaine’s history with you. I have been studying this case for the past seven months, he’s really very fascinating.”
“Are you a psychiatrist here?” Leighton asked, slowly beginning to follow.
“Nope, not yet! I’m a graduate student right now, working my way into the profession. The human mind is an amazing thing, and I always find those who are especially disturbed to be most fascinating. And yes, I know that makes me sound disturbed as well,” Scott joked. “What brings you here to talk to Alex? He hasn’t left in over six years now, I doubt he could be much use to you, detective.”
“I just need to do a thorough investigation,” Leighton replied, not wanting to reveal even the tiniest shred of what he was working on. They were finally entering the huge building. It went from being a castlesque exterior, with large stone bricks and ivy climbing the walls, to being a chic and modern entrance. The entire place was updated and decorated exceptionally well. There was no one around, not even a nurse or any patients peddling about. Leighton couldn’t help but notice not only the change in aroma once he had entered the hall, but also the change in air.
The smell was somewhat similar to a hospital, but with something else. He couldn’t pinpoint what the other smell was, but it was something that made him uncomfortable to be there. Maybe it was the smell of the trapped, of those who are dying to break free and re-join the world. Maybe it was the smell of desperation, of pleading. It hit his nostrils and sank deep into his lungs. The feeling hit him so fast, there was no way he could have prepared himself for it. Once it had penetrated his nostrils it seemed to add an extra weight to his chest, stifling his lungs.
He actually wanted to stop breathing. Maybe it really was the smell of death. So many of the patients here would just live out their days in their little cells until they died. Slowly dying with no purpose, family or freedom. It made his heart ache, even though he hadn’t seen a single person besides his escorts.
The difference in the air was probably what made the smell so much more powerful. The air was just as stifled as his lungs. It’s as if the air couldn’t move, like it was trapped in a building far too small, and this was by far the largest single building Leighton had ever seen. Leighton could almost feel the air moving to let him past, gently brushing the sleeve of his jacket as he went. This was the most depressing, and simultaneously the most beautiful building he had ever seen.
“Great place, hey!” Scott said to him as he veered down a beautifully sculpted hallway. Leighton had never seen an entire hall that was arched. It was beautifully rounded and seamless, with a beautiful green paint accenting the slightest curve.
“It’s definitely a nice building” he said in reply, hoping that he was able to disguise his feeling of anxiety. “I haven’t seen anything quite like this before. Where is everyone?”
“Due to your visit all the patients have been returned to their rooms until after you have left. We have a very strict schedule on when they can be allowed to roam from their assigned spaces, and no one, and I mean no one, is allowed out when a visitor is in the building. It isn’t safe” Scott replied.
“Well, I’m sorry to put you guys through so much trouble. It really is imperative to my investigation that I speak with Dr Dublais and Alex,” Leighton said, trying to grasp control of his lungs again.
“It’s no problem at all. Please take a seat and I’ll go grab the file and be right back. Can I get you anything to drink?” Scott asked as he lingered in the doorway.
“No thank you,” Leighton replied. He was settling into one of the red leather chairs that Scott had motioned to. There were two of them, pointing directly at the huge mahogany desk. There were degrees framed all over the walls, apparently Dr Dublais was more than just a psychiatrist. He had been a trauma surgeon, a plastic surgeon, and judging from the papers on his desk it appeared that the Doctor was still in charge of his own private practice. “Some people need a hobby, maybe golf” Leighton thought, overwhelmed by credentials.
In about a minute Scott had returned to the office, and took the seat behind the desk. Leighton had no doubt that it was not Scott’s office, a graduate student would never be treated this grandly. This office was for someone distinguished, undeniably Dr Dublais. Everything was top of the line, probably custom made, to suit the decor. Somehow even the smell was different, the air was lighter, there was less pain and suffering in this room.
The file that Scott dropped on the desk caught Leighton by surprise. He had expected a normal folder, some notes, possibly the odd photograph. He had interviewed psychiatrists in the past, and this folder was one for the record books. It wasn’t actually a single folder, but rather it was probably about 15 folders, tied together with a huge leather band. It took up Scott’s entire torso and looked like it strained him to carry it into the office.
“This is the relevant information that Dr Dublais asked me to prepare for you. If you need anything else we have more files in the other room,” Scott said, looking exhaustedly at the massive stack of folders.
“How does the doctor know what is relevant information for me? We haven’t discussed why I am here in any way,” Leighton asked, watching Scott for any signs of discomfort or paranoia.
“My assumption is that it’s what he wants to call to your attention. There have been a number of inconsistencies in Alex’s behaviour over the past few months, and my guess is that Dr Dublais has a good idea of why you are here. He’s brilliant you know. I’ve never met anyone like him,” Scott said, opening the first folder. “Alex has always been a major threat. He was brought here six years ago when he was found by a woman running along the river path. He was naked, rubbing his back along a tree. She turned and tried to evade him as soon as she saw him but it was too late. He chased her down before she had a chance to escape. He’s startlingly fast, and was in excellent shape. She dialled 911 before he caught her, so the authorities arrived just in time. Sadly, she had just put the number in when he attacked her from behind. He nearly killed her, it was one of the most violent attacks that didn’t result in death in decades. He said that the woman was going to kill him, that she had demons leaking from her eyes. He claimed to be saving humanity from evil,” Scott said, shaking his head and slowly turning the page in the folder.
“And he’s never left?” questioned Leighton, a little disturbed by the crime scene photos that he was looking over. It was surprising that Alex had done this to her with only his hands, and no weapons. He hadn’t seen this kind of a beating in all his years on the force, well, at least not one where the person lived.
“No, he appears to be getting worse actually. There has been no progress in his care, if we find a way to manipulate him he finds three ways to scare us. He’s brilliant, Detective Chase. Don’t underestimate him,” Scott warned.
They spent another forty minutes going over Alex’s behaviour problems and discussing why he was an unfit member of society. The bottom line was that he was excessively violent and detached from reality. He really thought his purpose in life was to destroy the evil beings in the world. Unfortunately, he seemed to think small women were the epitome of evil. He had an excessive list of violent attacks against the personnel at the hospital, and was spending the rest of his life in solitary confinement. He wasn’t allowed to watch TV with the other patients, because every time he had someone had been seriously injured. So far, no one had died.
“Detective Chase” said a voice from behind “I’m Dr Dublais, I’m glad you were able to come here so quickly. I’m sorry about the wait but I had to prepare Alex for your visit. If Scott has updated you on Alex’s history, I’d like to carry on. There are a few things I’d like to show you, and I’ll explain more as we walk. We keep Alex in the far left wing.”
“It’s good to meet you, doctor. I think we are all caught up here” he said, looking at Scott for confirmation. Scott nodded as he closed the files. “Let’s do this, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
Leighton couldn’t help but notice how different Dr Dublais was to his grad student Scott. They were built so differently, carried themselves in totally different ways. The doctor was dressed very professionally and certainly showed no signs of an attraction to death metal. He also didn’t wear glasses. But they both had sandy hair and looked to be close in age.
As they walked, Dr Dublais updated Leighton on the changes in Alex’s demeanour. All of the sudden he was trying to be very social, and saying that ridding the evil in the world was no longer his job. Apparently someone else had taken over his job since he had been locked up for so long. Alex believed that he was ready to be a part of society again and that he wasn’t dangerous anymore. “This is a change in his personality that we never could have expected” Dr Dublais said, sounding both surprised and apprehensive at the same time.
“You don’t think it’s possible for him to make such a drastic change?” Leighton asked, writing notes in his pocket book. There was too much information being thrown at him for it to be left to memory.
“Well, nothing’s impossible I suppose, but it’s highly unlikely. Alex has never gone an extended period of time outside of an institution. He is very unstable. What makes things more complicated even, is that for the first time ever someone came to visit him about three months ago, and she has been back multiple times since then. Alex seemed to change almost immediately after her first visit,” Dr Dublais stated, seeming increasingly uneasy as they approached the left wing.
“Was the woman’s name Mercedes Fontaine?” Leighton asked.
“No, it was the other sibling, Isabella,” Dr Dublais said with a sigh. “We’re here. Inside this room is where Alex is being held for you. I warn you that he’s unstable, there’s no way I can prepare you for what you’re going to encounter with him. Every time we think we have a handle on his actions, everything changes and we are behind again. That’s why we haven’t been able to implement any successful form of treatment. He is bound tightly, but don’t get to close to him. If he can get a hold of you in any way, he will, and you won’t like it. There will be two guards outside the door, and there’s a surveillance tape in the room. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Thanks” Leighton muttered as he turned to look in through the small window. Alex was tied securely to his chair; he was also in a strait jacket and had a cover over his mouth that reminded him of Hannibal Lector.
“Detective, there’s one more thing I wanted to mention. Alex has recently been obsessed with painting. Dark images, so I don’t believe the darkness is gone from within him. I believe he has a sister who is an artist though, so maybe art runs in the family. It seems very therapeutic for him,” Dr Dublais said as he handed Leighton photos of the paintings. One of them was identical to Mercedes' painting, and the murder of Olivia Dumaine.
“Has Alex received any pictures from his sisters, or has he been allowed any internet access?” Leighton asked, trying to discover how Alex was able to recreate Mercedes' art so closely, her painting had been done over a year before.
“No, we are very strict about what he is exposed to. He is very sensitive. But the paintings are one of the reasons I wanted to see you. I have the originals in my office, and if you have time after you have met with him I’d be glad to release them to you, temporarily of course. He claims that he is painting the murders of the evil beings. He says that the women in his paintings are all dead. I read the newspaper daily, and I can’t help but notice a few similarities between the women being murdered and the paintings. He paints only beautiful girls, and the murders seem to have targeted especially attractive women. There may be no connection, he could have heard some of the staff discussing it and begun painting, trying to take responsibility for the murders, but it seems to contradict the way in which he’s been trying to adjust his attitude so he can leave the institution. I hope I have been of some help to you, detective Chase,” Dr Dublais said as he stepped out from in front of the door.
“Thank you, I’d like to take those paintings back to my lab to be analysed,” Leighton said without removing his eyes from the photos. Not only was there one that was almost an exact replica of Olivia Dumaine’s murder, but there was also a picture of a car with a shattered window, with blood inside. There was a purse with a cell phone on the passenger’s seat. He painted Isa’s kidnapping.
***************************************************
Alex looked like the kind of guy you walk up to on the street, minus the straight jacket and muzzle, of course. He was handsome, friendly looking even. If Leighton had met him in another situation it’s likely that he wouldn’t have been wary of him at all. He had huge blue eyes, that crinkled around the edges. His mouth was relaxed, maybe a little thin. Overall his entire face was soft, he didn’t seem like a psychopath. “That’s what makes the best psycho’s successful,” thought Leighton as he stared at Alex.
“Are you going to tell me your name?” Alex asked, smiling and tilting his head slightly, as if talking to a child he was meeting for the first time. “Mine’s Alex.”
“I’m Detective Chase. I’m here to talk to you about your sisters Mercedes and Isabella, and the paintings that you’ve been doing lately” he replied, trying to sound friendly and relaxed, as if it wasn’t a big deal. It didn’t work.
“I don’t have any family, Detective” snarled Alex, as if he knew what exposing his sisters could cost them.
Leighton’s gut lurched, his adrenaline pumped...he knew that Alex was somehow involved.
“We can discuss my paintings though, if you like. I really enjoy it. Have you ever painted, Detective?” asked Alex in a calm and relaxed tone.
Leighton could see how quickly Alex could change, how dangerous he could be. “No, I haven’t. Where did you get the ideas for these paintings?” he asked as he placed the photos on the table in front of Alex. “Your sister Mercedes did one just like this one, almost identical actually” he said, motioning to the painting on the left. “The difference is that hers was done a year before yours was. How did you copy her painting in here? Did she come in and describe it to you?”
“You don’t listen, Detective. Why are you here?” asked Alex, remaining calm.
“I’ve already told you that,” Leighton replied, unsure of how to question a man in a strait jacket and muzzle. “Who do they think this guy is, Hannibal Lector?” Leighton thought as he stared at the dark leather piece and steel that covered half of Alex’s face.
“No, you danced around the subject. My art is inspired by my dreams. I tell my dreams to anyone who will listen. God trusts me to get rid of the devils that live on earth. Do you know how many people there are walking around with you on the street that were sent by Satan himself? That’s why the worlds so corrupt these days. My job was to take those beings off of the earth, and I’ve failed. Not only did I fail to destroy any of the demons, you see they are harder to kill than a human being, but I’ve also failed to escape from this jail they’ve kept me in for the past three hundred years,” Alex said as he smiled at Leighton.
“Three hundred years? You look great for your age,” Leighton joked, trying to keep the mood light. “Who have you told about this dream, and this one?” he said motioning to the painting that matched Olivia Dumaine’s murder and then to the one of Isabella’s kidnapping.
“I told the good doctor, out there. Yes, he gets to hear all about my dreams. I think he records them. He tells me that he doesn’t, but I know better. You’re welcome to listen to his tapes and get the firsthand account of what I said. It’s hard to remember the details of a single dream so many months later,” Alex answered.
“Did anyone else hear about the dreams? What about your sisters?” Leighton asked, knowing he was pushing the subject of family.
“I think you should ask the Dr Dublais. He knows a lot more than you’d think. But you’re going to have to be cautious, because he’s a lot smarter than you’ll ever know. Isabella knows” Alex laughed.
“I thought you didn’t know Isabella,” Leighton shot back, feeling the fury and panic boiling inside of him.
“I said I didn’t have any sisters, you halfwit,” Alex snarled, staring into Leighton. “I happen to know many women, and none of them are my sisters. Do you follow, or should I draw a diagram?”
“How the fuck do you know Isabella! You’re files say that she is your sister, I have seen the birth certificates, the family photos, I know you sick fuck! Quit toying with me, where is Isabella!” Leighton screamed, leaping up from his seat and towering over Alex like an immovable statue.
His rage was not only brought on by Alex trying to screw with him and waste his time. He also couldn’t ignore how the evidence not only implied that Isabella was involved, but at times it seemed she was the killer, not just an accomplice. He was so torn between loving her, and wanting to arrest her.
Inside, his rage battled his sorrow of losing Isa. The thought of being unable to find her was killing him. It was also one of the only reasons he hadn’t told anyone else at the precinct about her possible involvement in the case. He feared that she was a murderer at the exact same time he feared that she had been murdered. He regretted never telling her that he was in love with her and taking the shot when he had the chance. The worst part was that he never really had a reason for not telling her how he felt. He wasn’t involved with anybody else, Nadia was long gone. He was around her all the time, got to see all the best sides of her, and spent time together outside of work. All that was missing was sex.
“You’re suffering, she will love to hear that” Alex whispered to Leighton, leaning forward as far as he could. His eyes were dark and narrowed as Leighton stared down at him, fearless. Alex knew that as long as he was in the facility, that Leighton couldn’t do anything to him. “The stupid cop probably doesn’t even know that this whole thing is being recorded, I wonder if he’s even thought to look into Dr Dublais yet...” thought Alex as he stared into Leighton’s stone face.
Leighton realized that he was going to have to outwit Alex if he was going to get any information. So far he was just playing into him by getting mad and showing how flustered he truly was.
“Isabella has been here before, I already know that,” Leighton replied, trying to figure out if Isabella was chasing the crime, or getting ideas. She couldn’t be the killer, she was kidnapped and the psycho had her. Mercedes was his prime suspect at this point in time. If the killer had Isa, it wasn’t possible that she was the killer, right?
“I did meet a woman quite recently,” Alex sneered, unblinkingly at Leighton. She was quite beautiful, but I didn’t make a play for her. She was in love with some guy named Chase,” he laughed, “I’m not sure if that’s his first name, or his last.”
Leighton didn’t respond, he turned to stone as he thought about what to do next. Worst case scenario he would creep out Alex by totally ignoring him. He remembered that Dr Dublais had told him there was a surveillance tape, so he knew he was being watched. Dr Dublais had seemed totally unaffected by the whole scenario. He hadn’t asked Leighton any questions, and had a lot of information prepared for Leighton.
“That’s very strange,” Leighton thought. “How did he have the information that I would find relevant prepared before I had even arrived, and without asking me a single question? Something is obviously wrong...” he wondered as he stared into Alex’s cold, absent eyes. He thought about Nadia, if it had really been her. His heart began to ache.
It was like the man was missing his soul. At first it didn’t appear there was anything wrong with him, until you really stared into his eyes. They were cold, as if nothing was behind them, but still alive somehow. As if the basic human emotions that plague every person on the planet were somehow absent from his being. He didn’t think Alex was capable of much, especially some mastermind crimes that leave absolutely no evidence behind.
That was when Leighton started thinking about what Scott the graduate student had said. The way he described both Dr Dublais and Alex Fontaine were very similar. He referred to both of them as brilliant. How often is it that there are two remarkably brilliant people in the same building, two people that spent an intense amount of time together.
Leighton was beginning to think that he was interviewing the wrong person.
****************************************************
“Thanks Alex, have a great day,” Leighton said as he got up and left the room.
Alex sat in shock, uncomprehending the sudden change in events. It’s impossible that the detective learned anything from their conversation... he hadn’t said nearly anything that he had been told say. There is no way that he is going to be lead in the right direction...right into their hands...
“Her name was Nadia!” Alex shouted as Detective Chase made his way to the door. He desperately hoped that would get his attention and bring him back so they could further discuss all the things he was told to say. He realized that they were wrong, that the Detective wasn’t nearly as heartbroken and lovesick as they had anticipated. He was strong, he wasn’t even panicking.
“I don’t know a Nadia,” Leighton replied, fighting the tears that were stinging behind his eyes.
“Yes you do,” Alex snickered, rocking slightly in his chair as he laughed. “And she’s going to die soon. Can you save her, can you save them both?”
Leighton left the room without another word. He doubted he had actually seen Nadia in the park, and he doubted that the killer had been able to find Nadia after he had already been searching for her for over 20 years.
“Detective Chase,” called Dr Dublais as he ran down the corridor behind the detective. He looked nearly as confused as Alex had. “Is everything alright? Did Alex say something that bothered you? Sometimes he has a knack for attacking our most sensitive areas, he’s highly observant you know,” said the doctor as he tried regained his composure.
Leighton realized that the doctor would have had to run from his office, all the way down the hall through the separate rooms and into the corridor in order to catch up with him from where he would have been watching the interview on the surveillance tapes. He wasn’t out of breath in any way. The man had to be in remarkably good shape. It also meant that he didn’t hear the last exchange of words between Alex and him, so there was something secret at least.
Leighton nodded at the doctor, dismissing his statements. “Do you work out often, Dr Dublais?” Leighton asked, trying to seem friendly and as if he had finished his investigation.
The doctor's eyes flashed up at him for just a second.
Leighton held firm, refusing to shift his position and back down. “In the wild, that’s how you become the alpha” Leighton thought, thinking about the episode on the discovery channel he watched recently. The first lion to blink had to bow down, and he was not about to blink.
“I try to keep fit, in my line of work it proves to be an asset sometimes” Dr Dublais replied, sounding completely at ease. His eyes gave him away though, proving to Leighton that something was wrong. The doctor wasn’t as confident as he had first appeared. He was definitely hiding something.
“You know doc, maybe I should just ask you a few questions about the visitor that Alex had, you said it was the first time ever,” Leighton asked, looking and sounding dumber than he was.
“Yes sure, it was very unusual and seemed to spark the change in Alex, as I’ve said,” replied Dr Dublais.
“Alex said that Isabella was his sister,” Leighton lied, watching confusion cloud the good doctor's eyes. “And that she was about 5’11 and weighed close to 200 lbs. He said she was a platinum blonde with dark brown eyes, does that sound like the same woman to you, doctor?” he lied, hoping to confuse the doctor enough into letting something slip.
It seemed to be working, the description he gave of Isa couldn’t have been farther from the truth, and he had confused the so-called doctor long enough to see that he was trying to sort out what had happened.
“No, that isn’t how she looked at all,” he said, fiddling with the sleeves of his lab coat. That’s when Leighton noticed that he had a tattoo on the inside of his right arm, half way to his elbow. It was a prison tat. This was definitely NOT Dr Dublais.
Leighton took a single, tiny step closer to the imposter, staring dead straight into his eyes. “What did she look like, then?” he asked under his breath, barely moving his lips at all. That’s when he saw Isabella in his eyes. This was Alex, not the man locked in the room.
To his surprise, Alex took the same small step, leaning into him, meeting his stare dead on and gave an exact description of Isabella, all the while smiling. This guy was not about to back down, and he wasn’t someone Leighton was going to be able to underestimate. He had obviously been watching Leighton very closely in order to know exactly what to show him that was pertinent to his investigation. “Who is the man in the room...” Leighton thought, trying to figure out the puzzle. Somehow Alex was in control of the facility, one of the most renowned facilities in world, and no one had noticed.
He had to be doing an excellent job, but where was Dr. Dublais? Leighton had asked one of the younger officers to research him as he drove to the facility, and all the credentials had fit, even the physical description was pretty close. Of course, he hadn’t seen a photo.
“Oh I see,” he replied, “I suppose Alex was just wasting my time. He didn’t say anything that is useful to my investigation. And in regards to the paintings, it’s possible that the woman who came in here gave him very accurate descriptions. My time is wasted here, I need to be out looking for someone who has seen the sun in the last few years,” he lied again, trying to lead Alex as far from the truth as possible.
“I see” he replied, looking frustrated and uneasy. Leighton’s plan seemed to be working. “Well detective, if there is anything I can do for you, please feel free to contact me anytime.”
“Actually, may I use your washroom while I’m here? That guy creeped me the hell out and I could sure use a little release, if you know what I mean” he said, nudging Alex with his elbow in a friendly gesture. He was certainly playing up the dumb cop routine. So far it didn’t seem to unnerve Alex at all, which Leighton took as both an insult to his actual person, and as a compliment to his acting abilities. Who knows, after he found Isa and locked the sick fuck up who took her, maybe he’d retire and go into acting.
“Yes of course you may, there is one right down the hallway to your right, three doors down. Would you like me to escort you there?” Alex asked, calm now and getting back into character. Leighton had definitely thrown him off his game.
“Thanks doc,” Leighton said with a huge goofy smile on his face, the same one that Isa had always referred to as a “shit eating grin.” As he sauntered off towards the bathroom, he felt Alex’s eyes burrowing into the back of his skull. He made sure not to look back or walk too fast, he had to act like nothing was going on.
The bathroom was huge. It had one toilet but was probably 1,000 square feet. It was a black and burgundy room, absolutely beautiful and probably belonged on The Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, instead of in a nut house. He checked out the whole room, didn’t find any bugs, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t being watched still. This was a state of the art facility, after all. He went into the stall, and bent forward so that nothing from above could see what he was doing. The guards had taken his weapons and cell phone when he came in, but he had concealed a second phone on a chain around his neck, just in case. He sent a text message to Tess in the morgue, knowing that she would alert the best cops available, and that within no time they were going to be taking over this damn mansion and finding out what was really going on.
He couldn’t help but hold onto a shred of hope that Isabella was concealed within one of the locked rooms. It would be easy to hide someone in here, no one would know. There was no one to notice. When a psychopath is running a nut house, things are bound to get interesting.
Leighton knew that Alex would be catching on, and fast. It was no doubt that he had to be smart in order to get to where he was, and to play everyone including Leighton, the way that he had. Leighton knew he couldn’t leave this bathroom; he was going to have to find another way out. Alex would be watching the door. He spotted a vent just above the sinks going into the roof. It was his only option.
He quickly made his way to the sink, jumped up and pried the vent cover off, placing it just inside the vent itself so he could replace it after he got up there. He took a few deep breaths, cleared his mind, and leaped up as high as he could, catching himself hard in the ribs. The raw edges sliced him, and he nearly shouted out in pain. He could feel blood running down his torso. Leighton quickly pulled his lower body into the vent. Sadly, he didn’t do this much more gracefully than he had jumped up. The edge also managed to slice into his left thigh. His only hope was that he was going to be able to move uninhibited through the vent and the rest of the facility; he couldn’t afford to be slowed down now.
He turned around to replace the vent cover, pinching his fingers as he tried to pull the cover tight. He couldn’t get it quite right, but that wasn’t his biggest problem. There was blood on the floor directly under the vent, meaning that Alex was going to know exactly where he had gone. Leighton could only hope that Alex was going to be slow coming to check on what he was doing in the bathroom, but then again, it hadn’t been a lucky day.
His luck continued to diminish, before he could even move, he heard the door being unlocked from the outside. He knew it was Alex and that he had to get out of there quickly if he had a shot in finding Isabella in here. He began to drag himself as quickly as possible, feeling the strain in left leg. The wound on his ribs wasn’t bothering him much, but the cut on his thigh was deep. “Shit” Leighton thought, as he tried to swim through the vent.
He saw a spot of light coming up, which meant he could check out another room. Looking down, he saw a small single bed with white linens. Everything in the room was white and the small part he could see on the wall appeared to be padded. It was definitely a patient’s room. He could only see a section of the room from this angle, so he awkwardly repositioned himself so he could check out the rest of the room. This was the confirmation he needed that Dr Dublais was in fact, Alex. Whoever had been in that room had been massacred. There was blood everywhere, and what used to be a person looked like a lump of road kill stuffed into a corner, with a few articles of clothing stuffed into the mix. There was no way for him to tell if it was male or female. The stench coming up into the vent told him that the body had definitely been there a while and that Alex’s take over had to be relatively recent, because the smell wasn’t taking over the rest of the building.
He breathed through his mouth and continued towards the next spot of light he could see. Again, a bloody massacre was beneath him. Vent after vent, Leighton found brutal murders.
**************************************************
“Where the fuck are all the cops?” Leighton thought, wondering why he hadn’t heard anything yet. He had to have been in this vent for 40 minutes now, had seen no sign of Isabella and no sign of Alex. He knew it wasn’t safe to exit the vent until the cops had opened a room beneath him so he could actually get out of the locked cells. It was too risky to be trapped in a cell unable to get out. It was a death trap waiting to happen, and he was not that stupid.
Reaching another vent, Leighton realized he was looking down on the imposter who was had been presented to him as Alex, Isabella’s brother. He was very much alive. He sat on his bed with his hand down his pants, pleasuring himself loudly and with great dedication. “Guy seems well practiced” Leighton thought as he tried to decide if he wanted to descend into the room and get some real information.
As he was coming to the conclusion that the guy could be useful to him, he heard someone outside the cell door. He slid back slightly from the light making sure that he wouldn’t be visible from below if anyone were to look up.
“This one’s alive!” shouted a female voice from the hall. “Sir I’m with the police, we are here to rescue you. Can you tell me your name?”
The man didn’t respond, didn’t stop pleasuring himself. He seemed to be unaware of his surroundings. He groaned loudly tensed up, slowly relaxing and then breathing deeply, apparently finished. He began to rub his hands together, playing with his semen. He giggled, “I have a present for you officer. I made it myself!” he shouted, squealing with laughter.
“Please back up to the door and place your hands through the opening in the door. We will restrain your hands and remove you from the building immediately,” the officer said back, knowing exactly what was in his hands since she could see through the slot in the door usually used for serving food. Leighton couldn’t see her, but could tell by her voice that she certainly wasn’t impressed with the man’s choice of gifts.
The man giggled again, still rubbing his hands together, sometimes taking breaks to smell it, and laughing more. He retreated to the back corner of the cell, still exposing himself. Leighton wondered how he had kept it together long enough to detain him for any length of time; the guy was obviously a lunatic. When the cops began to open the door to come and retrieve him, the man turned away from them hiding his face in the corner.
Leighton saw that this man was also tattooed. He had a symbol on the left side of his lower stomach, right on the top of his hip bone. It was a symbol Leighton had seen before but couldn’t place where he had seen it. It appeared to be from a crest or something.
Trying to ignore where he had seen that symbol before, Leighton realized that the female officer was entering the room alone. “What the fuck is she thinking?” Leighton thought as he prepared to lower himself out of the duct. He was going to have to get turned around in order to remove the vent cover and descend, hopefully onto the bed rather than the tile floor. He began to reposition himself to lower himself down when he heard steel smashing into someone and a shrieking giggle erupt from the room beneath him.
Without a second's pause Leighton threw his body weight into the top of the vent, smashing the back of his head hard into the steel. The vent flew off, and he tumbled both backwards and upside down out of the vent. He nearly caught the bed, instead crashing his shoulder into the side of the steel frame. When he hit the floor he managed to land squarely on the vent. Apparently this wasn’t his lucky day. He moved rapidly, making sure to get his wits together as fast as possible. The prisoner had taken down the officer with a steel bowl that was apparently used to store his feces.
She was laying in the ground unconscious, and the man was humping her thigh and giggling. Leighton’s loud entrance hadn’t caught his attention at all. Leighton picked up the vent screen and walked slowly and cautiously toward the man. When he was about five feet away, he noticed that the man had stopped humping the unconscious officer and turned and stared at Leighton.
“Hey Buddy, do you want to get out of here?” Leighton asked, trying to remain calm. Not surprisingly, the man went back to humping the officer’s leg, but now his eyes were on Leighton. Slowly Leighton took another step forward, testing how sensitive the guy was.
Leighton thought he was prepared for any reaction that the man threw at him, but apparently he wasn’t. The tiny shift towards him caused the man to let out a low, creeping hiss that made Leighton’s skin ripple in goose bumps. “Holy crap” he thought, trying to decide what to do.
“Sorry bud, can I use your toilet?” he asked, motioning to the toilet just behind the officer's head.
This seemed to be a suitable question, because the man sighed and went back to aggressively humping. The officer was beginning to come to, and in preparation the man both humped more aggressively, as well as picked the bowl up again in case he wasn’t finished when she was awake enough to get him off of her.
Leighton got to the toilet, unbuckling his pants to make sure that the man bought his excuse. In a smooth and quick motion, he whipped the vent cover towards him, smoking him square in the forehead. Squealing in pain the man began running rapid circles around the room. He screamed and squealed and held his face. His hands were stained red with blood.
The force of turning and throwing the vent had torn Leighton’s cut on his ribs much wider, and now he was feeling its effects. His shirt was soaked with blood, and he felt like his other arm might well be dislocated, probably from hitting the bed when he fell. The officer was beginning to come to, and Leighton ran towards the man and threw him to the ground, using his good arm to hold his hands behind his back, his sore leg was stuck pushing his knee into the man’s back until the officer came to enough to get her cuffs on him.
Finally she was sitting up; she looked over and saw Leighton who looked like a bloody mess. She saw the spray of feces around her, a look of both revulsion and violation spread across her face. She looked about ready to cry, Leighton couldn’t handle that right now, he needed her to be a cop, not a woman.
“Hey kid, I’m Detective Chase,” he said, sounding calm and hoping to keep her calm as well. “I need you to bring me your cuffs, can you do that?”
She looked at him with panic in her eyes, and raised her hand to the lump on her head, and felt the blood on her cheek. She put her other hand onto her cuffs, again looking around the room, and finally settling her eyes on the man squirming beneath Leighton’s hold.
“How old are you” he asked her, trying to take her attention off of her attacker. The last thing he needed was her being too scared to come close enough to cuff him, and he knew that his other arm wasn’t functional enough to both hold and cuff the guy.
“I’m um...I just turned...fuck. 22” she stammered, still looking at her attacker.
“Don’t worry about him, I’ve got him. I need you to cuff him for me though, ok? Can you do that?” he asked her, seeing that she was still in shock. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“S-s-s-s-st-st Stacey” she stammered.
“Stacey, I need you to look at me. Come here now, don’t hesitate. You can handle this. This guy attacked you and now you are in control. I need you to cuff him so we can get out of here. There may be more people we need to help in this building, and you’re a great cop, you just got unlucky with this guy. It’s not your fault, now cuff him,” Leighton told her, doing his best to keep eye contact with her. He hoped he was instilling confidence in the young officer; she probably hadn’t been on the force for more than a few months.
She slowly stood up, holding her cuffs in her right hand. She took one small step towards them, then seemed like she was thinking about backing up again.
Leighton was getting desperate. The man he had pinned to the ground was beginning to loosen his grip, and his other arm was numbing fast. If he got loose Leighton didn’t think that he was going to be able to pin him down again.
“Stacey!” he shouted, snapping her attention immediately back onto him. “Get your ass over here now and cuff this fuck!” he screamed, shocking her back into the rookie routine and acting like a drill sergeant. He was glad he accurately estimated how long she had been on the force. When he took on the role of drill sergeant, she immediately snapped into routine and came over to him. She paused beside him, tears welling in her eyes.
“Cuff him!” he yelled.
She jumped, dropping her cuffs and tears running down her face. She fumbled the cuffs, slowly getting them onto the man’s wrists. After they were on, Leighton quickly tightened them, since Stacey had barely secured them at all. As soon as he was secured Leighton told Stacey to go find another officer to escort him outside, and to find medical attention for herself. By the time another officer reached him, he was feeling light headed. He was worried about losing consciousness and being killed before someone finally came to get the man.
As he stood up, releasing his suspect to the care of the other officer, he realized where he had seen that symbol before. It was the crest of one of Dr Dublais’ medical schools; he had seen it earlier in his office on one of the degrees. “It’s Dublais,” he told the other officer as he swayed and staggered, struggling to maintain consciousness. The loss of blood and the injury to his arm had obviously done more damage than he realized.
“What? Who?” asked the other officer. “Hey man, are you ok?” he asked Leighton, pausing at the door of the room.
“The man, he’s Dr Dublais,” Leighton mumbled, slurring his words. He immediately felt the darkness engulfing him as he slipped into unconsciousness.
“Detective Chase, Tess contacted me. Where’s your partner?” asked Captain Reid. Leighton knew that his time to conceal her involvement was up, and that he had to tell the Captain everything from the top. Still, he wanted to procrastinate. He clung to the hope that somehow an idea was going to hit him that would clear her name so he could explain it to the Captain.
“Where am I?” Leighton asked as he slowly sat up and tried to look around.
“You’re at the Angel of Grace hospital. You lost consciousness at that nut house. You busted up your arm pretty bad, and had cut some important shit in your thigh. How the hell you managed to stay awake as long as you did is a freaking mystery in itself. Why the fuck were you in a vent?” Captain Reid asked.
“Doing my damn job, Captain” Leighton shot back at him, annoyed that the Captain was questioning his tactics.
“Quit your fucking stalling, where is Isabella? You’re crew said that there was a carjacking, that’s all I fucking know. I need to know what the hell you think you’re doing keeping this information from me. I ought to lock you up in that god damn mad house when I’m through with you,” the Captain said, obviously impressed with his empty threat. He smiled seeing Leighton's annoyance.
“What happened, I saw so many dead bodies in the rooms when I was crawling through the vent, it’s like he killed everyone who was there. Do you know anything yet?”
“Yes, you were right; the patient you got off of Stacey is Dr Dublais. It appears that Alex outsmarted him, believe it or not. I thought that doc was supposed to be a genius?” he wondered out loud, shaking his fat grey head. “Anyways, yes. He killed all of the patients who were there under the doctor's care. Somehow he broke Dublais down and overtook the facility.
“What about the grad student, Scott something. Weird little guy with a death metal T? Shouldn’t he have noticed?” Leighton asked, trying to piece the puzzle together.
“He was apparently an accomplice, one that was expendable. The real guy was found dead about 12 years ago, died of old age in a retirement home. They just stole the identity. I don’t know the real name of the accomplice. Alex Fontaine tried to kill him before he fled the facility. His throat was slit, his vocal chords severed. He was also stabbed in the stomach and chest. Somehow he survived, so far that is. He was rushed to surgery as soon as he got here. We are all hoping to get information out of him, if he makes it that is. Now, I’m not telling you anything else until I know what the fuck is going on with Isabella,” Captain Reid said, crossing his arms over his round, protruding stomach.
“How many dead, and do any of the killings fit the description of the previous murders?” Leighton asked, trying to make sure that Alex was the killer.
“No, nothing fits. We didn’t find Alex Fontaine, and there are 126 dead bodies locked up in those cells, most unidentified at this point. It’s your turn, where the fuck is Isabella!” Captain Reid shouted, no longer willing to play Leighton’s game of avoidance. He needed to know what was going on in his precinct, and was pissed that he had been left in the dark.
Leighton knew that his time was up, and he was inevitably going to have to tell Captain Reid everything he knew, so he figured it was going to be easiest if he started at the beginning...
|
|
 |
|
