No Grace, page 11
"Thank you, Doctor," she said, standing up quickly.
"You... You don't think he's in there, do you?" he stammered.
"I'm going to look," she said.
"Let me call security..."
"Wait," Valerie explained. "If he is in there, I might be able to talk him down. With all due respect to your security guards, they're not trained to deal with this sort of thing. Have them on standby and put a call into the local police department; get them to send a couple of patrol cars out."
"And in the meantime?" the doctor asked, his face grave.
"In the meantime," Valerie said, "I'm going in there myself."
*
Valerie rushed towards the gray building, her heart racing with adrenaline. She looked up at the open window on the second floor and thought that, for the briefest of moments, she saw a dark figure standing there, staring down at her. She hesitated for a moment, unsure whether it was a hallucination or not, but then forced herself to move forward.
Reaching the main door, she pulled it open and headed inside.
As she made her way through the stacks of chairs and cleaning supplies which populated the interior of the building, Valerie listened intently for any signs of life.
Gun drawn, she felt nervous. There was something about those stacks of boxes and chairs. They were pulsing, vibrating out of the corner of Valerie's eyes. Every time she turned to look at them directly, the pulsing ceased.
Oh, no, she thought. Not now.
But she had come to realize that the hallucinations would come regardless of how she felt.
Valerie moved cautiously between the piles of boxes and furniture, her gun held tightly in her hand. The shadows loomed around her, casting strange shapes that flickered and danced in the dim light. She stopped for a moment and heard what sounded like bare feet on the floor, shuffling around unseen.
Valerie followed the noise, nervously, getting closer and closer. But she couldn't see exactly where it was coming from due to the cluttered supplies.
As she rounded one particularly large pile of office equipment, suddenly, a white figure leaped out at her from the shadows, causing Valerie to jump back with a gasp. She caught her breath and watched the ghostly figure of her mother wearing a straightjacket and giggling maniacally. The figure darted away into the darkness, leaving Valerie feeling shaken and unnerved.
Then she heard those terrible words: "Twinkle, twinkle, little star..." A mockery of the lullaby her mother used to sing to her.
"Even stars die..." her mother's voice whispered from the shadows.
Pull it together, Val, she thought, trying to veer her mind away from the pain. She tried to think of something good. Tom instantly fell into her mind. His smiling face looking at her from the comfort of their own bed.
That calmed her.
But as she continued to move cautiously through the labyrinthine piles of boxes and furniture, Valerie realized with a sinking feeling that she was in way over her head. She shouldn't have come into the building in such a fragile state of mind, not alone, at least.
The combination of her recent hallucinations and the eerie atmosphere of the abandoned building was playing tricks on her mind, making it difficult to discern what was real and what was not.
Valerie's grip on her gun tightened as she continued to move through the darkness, the silence broken only by the sound of her own footsteps echoing eerily off the walls. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched; that there was someone, or something, lurking just out of sight. And she felt in her bones that it was not her mother.
Something banged in the building as though someone had knocked over a box. She heard footsteps above her.
Valerie sprinted towards a doorway and then to the stairwell. She climbed up the stairs, her gun drawn, ready for a fight. But as she reached the top and moved through a shadowy doorway, a man appeared an inch in front of her from a side door, his eyes wild with fear and anger. He lunged at her, grabbing her around the neck, and she stumbled backward, struggling to free herself from his grip.
The man panted in her ear as Valerie fought, and he was able to wrench the gun from her hand.
Valerie fought back with everything she had, but the man, John, was strong, and he knew how to use his weight to his advantage. They stumbled and staggered around a large duty room, crashing into stacks of chairs, and knocking over boxes of cleaning supplies.
They continued to fight, their movements becoming more and more frenzied as the adrenaline surged through their bodies. Valerie knew that she was running out of time, that John could overpower her at any moment. But she refused to give up, determined to bring him to justice. She managed to break free, momentarily, from his grip.
She ran, but he continued to chase her down, relentlessly. Valerie grabbed a small box of screws from a pile as she passed and threw them at her pursuer. He reached out and batted them away, but inadvertently smacked the box against a light bulb above.
It cracked and a spark flew before it died.
Valerie saw something in the man. A look of fear. He even let out a gasp, but then recovered and kept chasing, angrily.
Finally, as Valerie neared the back of the building, she saw an opportunity. He was big, but that weight could be used against him. John had backed her into a corner, and she knew that this was her chance; if she didn't take it, she'd soon be dead.
Valerie waited for him to lunge at her. Wide-eyed and angry he soon did, seething and frothing from the mouth. Valerie ducked to the side and nimbly pushed him off balance. She then grabbed a loose metal folding chair, climbed up onto a stack of boxes and used them as leverage to jump up and bring the chair down on top of John's head. The blow knocked him out cold, and he crumpled to the ground, his body limp and motionless.
Valerie stood there for a moment, catching her breath, and trying to steady her nerves. She knew that she had taken a risk, that things could have gone very wrong. She waited momentarily for the wave of success that normally followed apprehending a killer.
But this feeling did not come. Instead it was replaced with lingering doubt and puzzlement.
She looked down at John's unconscious form, shaking her head.
“No...” she said out loud.
Something grim had become apparent. Suddenly, victory felt like a bitter defeat.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Looking around the small interview room at Marrington Police Station, Will felt apprehensive. He had seen the twisted horror that the killer was capable of inflicting, and he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if John Fox became agitated or violent in this confined space.
The walls were a drab beige color, and there was a single, harsh, overhead light casting an unflattering glow over everything. There were no windows, no decoration, nothing to break up the monotony of the room. Will found these places to be incredibly bland, but he recognized that for interrogating suspects, a space with too many distractions could overstimulate them, causing them to become more evasive or agitated.
As he sat there, the door opened, and in walked Charlie and Valerie, holding onto the cuffed arms of John Fox. The man was large, and he looked to Will as though he could have broken out of custody if he flew into a rage.
But the man had a beaten look in his eyes. He looked afraid and worried.
They sat him down on the opposite side of the table, his eyes darting around the room, clearly uncomfortable. Valerie then turned to the door and brought in Doctor Evans, the doctor who had overseen John Fox's treatment. He sat down beside John Fox, and Valerie and the others took their seats on the opposite side of the table.
Will studied John Fox carefully, trying to read his body language. He was tense, fidgeting in his seat, and avoiding eye contact. Will couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the situation.
Will watched as Valerie turned on the recording device on the wall, announcing that the interview with John Fox was beginning. She stated the date, March 29th, and explained that John had requested Doctor Evans's presence for support during the interview, to which Valerie had agreed.
Valerie then turned to face John, who was sitting still cuffed, on the opposite side of the table. "John, do you understand that this interview is being recorded?" she asked.
John nodded, his eyes flickering between the faces of the officers and Doctor Evans. "Yes."
"Good," Valerie continued. "Can you please state your full name for the record?"
"John David Fox," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
Valerie then turned to Doctor Evans. "Doctor Evans, can you confirm that you have been treating John at Marrington Hospital?"
"Yes, that's correct," Doctor Evans replied.
"And can you confirm that John was released from your care two months ago, after showing significant improvement?" Valerie asked.
"Yes, that's correct," Doctor Evans confirmed. "There was significant improvement in his ability to handle things calmly."
Valerie leaned forward, her voice firm. "John, we've brought you here today to discuss the recent murders in the county. We believe you have information that could help us solve these crimes. Do you know anything about the murders?"
John's eyes darted around the room, and for a moment, Will thought he saw a glimmer of fear in them. But then John's expression turned blank, and he shook his head. "I don't know anything," he said quietly.
Valerie leaned back in her chair, a skeptical look on her face. "John, we believe that the killer we're looking for has a background in using electricity, just like you as a trained electrician. We also believe that person may have undergone ECT, just like you. Do you see where I'm going with this?"
John's eyes widened slightly, and he swallowed hard. "I never killed anybody," he said. "Please leave me alone. I just want to go back home."
Will actually felt for the man. He had the suspicion that the home to which John Fox referred was the hospital and not his parents’ house. How bad did things have to be to feel at ease removed from society?
Valerie pressed on. "Do you know a man named James Asper?"
John shook his head. "No."
"What about Morris Davenport or Dennis Newbury?" Charlie interjected.
John Fox said nothing, but he looked bemused.
Valerie exchanged a look with Charlie. Will had been around both of them long enough to know what it meant. They were having doubts.
Valerie then turned to Doctor Evans. "Doctor, can you tell us about John's mental state when he was under your care?"
Doctor Evans cleared his throat. "John was diagnosed with schizophrenia, and he was experiencing auditory and visual hallucinations when he first came to us. He then had fits of rage and emotional distress that were so overwhelming he couldn't function. Eventually, he agreed to a course of ECT. After a couple of treatments, his symptoms improved significantly. We deemed him stable enough for release."
"Are you medicated, John?" Will now asked.
John whispered, "Yes."
Valerie nodded, and then turned back to John. "John, are you not taking your meds?"
John shifted in his seat, his eyes darting around the room once more. "I forgot sometimes," he said.
Valerie leaned forward again, her voice low and dangerous. "John, we need you to be honest with us. Did you stop taking your medication on purpose?"
John's eyes flicked to Doctor Evans, and then back to Valerie. "I...I didn't want to be on them anymore," he admitted. "They made me feel like a zombie."
Valerie's eyes narrowed. "And did you have any hallucinations or delusions after you stopped taking your medication?"
John hesitated, and then nodded. "Yes," he said quietly. "Sometimes I saw things that weren't there. I got scared. That's why I came back to the hospital. But I knew they wouldn't let me stay, so I hid in the other building."
Will watched John's face as he spoke, and noticed that his gaze had been slowly drifting to the right, towards the recording device on the wall. There were two plug outlets there, and Will could see a subtle lean in John's body language where he was moving away from the wall. He wondered if John was looking at it because he had seen something suspicious there, or if he was just drawn by its presence. Either way, it seemed clear that he was more than a little intimidated by it.
Will decided to intervene and ask about John's experience with electricity. "John, do you remember that you used to be an electrician before you got ill? Do you ever intend on going back to being an electrician?"
John seemed frozen and he shook his head, fear etched on his face.
"No," he said weakly. "Never."
Will couldn't help but notice how hesitant John sounded and he pushed further. "Why not?"
John looked panicked, his eyes flicking from side to side as if searching for an escape. He seemed on the verge of tears, so Will decided to take it easy on him.
"It's okay," he said softly. "You don't have to be scared. But you can tell me if you like. I'm a doctor too. Just like Doctor Evans here."
John looked relieved and he took a deep breath before answering Will's question. "I'm scared because I think electricity is alive," he said in a whisper, his voice trembling slightly. "I think it might take over humanity someday."
"Do you have any other thoughts like this, John?" Will asked gently.
John nervously nodded his head and he looked up at them with scared eyes. "I do," he said softly. "But I'm afraid to talk about them."
Doctor Evans cleared his throat and placed a hand on John's arm reassuringly. "It's okay, John," he said calmly. "You can tell us what you're thinking. We won't judge you for it."
John stayed quiet for a few moments, then let out a deep sigh before speaking again. "I think electricity has its own consciousness," he said slowly, as if he was still trying to process the thoughts himself as he spoke them aloud for the first time ever. He continued: "I don't know how or why it's happening, but I keep having this feeling that electricity is controlling everything we do - like it knows what will happen next before we even make our decisions."
Will and Doctor Evans exchanged a glance and Will could tell that the doctor was as surprised as he was by John's confession. He asked cautiously, "Do you think this has ever come up in your therapy sessions with Doctor Evans before now?"
John shook his head. "No," he said, sounding relieved. "I never thought to bring it up because I didn't want you to think I was crazy."
Doctor Evans smiled reassuringly at him and patted his arm again. "John, this is a real breakthrough in your treatment," he said kindly. "It's so important to talk about these things without fear of judgment or ridicule. We're here to help you work through it all - we won't judge you."
Will now had a thought, and there was only one way to test it. He took out his phone and offered it to John.
John stared at the phone in terror. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice quivering with fear.
Will smiled reassuringly and spoke in a gentle, calming tone. "It's okay John, I just need to be sure of something."
He put the phone into John's hands.
At that moment, John screamed out in fright and begged Will to put the phone away. Will quickly obeyed and he wrapped an arm around John's shoulder as he comforted him. “It’s okay,” he said calmly. “I won’t do anything like that again without asking you first, okay? Doctor Evans can talk it through and figure out what is best for you."
"Valerie?" Will asked. "Can we talk outside?"
John nodded and slowly calmed down. Will then stood up and motioned for Doctor Evans, Charlie, and Valerie to follow him out of the room. As they left, Will looked back at John who was now sitting in silence, his eyes still wide with fear.
Once they were in the hallway, Doctor Evans spoke first. "That was quite a breakthrough," he said thoughtfully. "It seems like electricity is something that really resonates with John."
Valerie nodded in agreement and added, "I'm glad... But what you did in there, Will, it's only reaffirmed something I noticed during John's arrest."
"That he's terrified of electricity?" Will asked, knowing the answer.
"Yes," Valerie said, sounding disheartened. “When he and I fought during the arrest, I saw him frightened by sparks of electricity coming from a light.”
"If he's frightened of electricity," Charlie observed. "There's no way he's our killer. Not when the killer messes around with electrical supplies. Hell, in the Morris Davenport death, the killer had to get up close and personal with a power line without getting themselves killed. That's no mean feat, and not something you'd do if electricity scared you."
Valerie nodded, mournfully. "You're right," she said, her voice heavy with frustration. "John Fox is not our killer."
Charlie added: "We still need to keep an eye on his movements during the murders, but I think it's safe to say that we can rule him out as a suspect for now if that checks out."
"Where does that leave him?" Doctor Evans asked.
Valerie sighed. "Well, he still needs to be charged and the court will have the final say on his admittance to Marrington. But I think with your support, Doctor Evans, we can get him readmitted. At least he'll feel like he's home again."
Will nodded in agreement. "That sounds like a good plan," he said, looking back towards John's room with a sad expression on his face.
"Thank you," Doctor Evans said. "I'll keep an eye on him."
"Thank you, Doctor Evans," Valerie said.
And then it was just Charlie, Valerie, and Will.
Will looked at Valerie for a moment. It was as if she saw something or someone along the corridor. Her face looked perturbed. But when Will turned and looked, he saw no one there.
"Are you all right, Valerie?" he asked.
"No," she said, clearing her throat. "I don't know where we go from here."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The killer, shrouded in darkness, stalked through the underground parking lot, watching her next victim.
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