No Grace, page 12
She had been following the elderly woman for some time now, biding her time, waiting for the right moment to strike. The woman was completely oblivious to the danger lurking behind her as she walked to her car, fumbling for her keys.
The woman was frail, the years having taken their toll on her body. She had an air of frailty that the killer found contemptible. Her bumbling search for her car keys only made it easier for the killer to stalk her without drawing attention.
The killer felt a sense of anger build inside her as she got closer to the woman. She couldn't wait to put electricity through the old woman's body, to see the fear and pain in her eyes. For the killer, electric shock treatment was barbaric and more harmful than helpful, and that old woman had once been a part of it. She hated ECT and everyone involved with it, and now she was taking her revenge.
For the briefest moment, the killer felt a tinge of sadness. She touched her temples imagining what the horrifying jolt of electricity through the brain would feel like. But as quickly as any empathy had come, it was contorted by anger and spite. The killer continued to observe.
The woman finally reached her car and opened the door, the light inside illuminating the deep wrinkles on her face. The killer's heart raced with excitement as she watched the woman place her purse on the passenger seat and start the engine. The killer slowly crept closer to the car, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. She was so close now, she could feel the electricity pulsing through her veins.
Just as the killer was about to make her move, she heard a noise that made her freeze in her tracks.
Footsteps.
Someone was coming.
She looked up and saw a security guard moving between the cars, his flashlight cutting through the gloom of the poorly lit underground parking lot like a beacon of hope. The killer cursed under her breath and quickly ducked behind a car, waiting for the guard to pass before she could continue with her plan.
The killer watched as the security guard approached. Panic set in as she realized he was heading in her direction.
She couldn't let him see her. Not now, not when she had the perfect victim right in front of her. The old woman was oblivious, now rummaging through her purse on the passenger seat, no doubt for her driving glasses. The killer needed to act fast if she was to claim her next victim.
She quickly, opened the driver's door while the old woman was distracted, lunged forward, and covered the woman's mouth with her hand, yanking her back into the shadows. The woman's eyes widened in terror, but the killer relished in the fear. It was like a drug, fueling her rage and hatred.
The security guard's footsteps grew louder, and the killer's heart pounded in her chest. She tried to quiet her breathing, but it came out in ragged gasps. She couldn't be caught now. Not when she was so close to achieving her goal.
The guard rounded the corner, and the killer held her breath. He walked past, oblivious to the danger lurking in the shadows. She waited until he was out of earshot before administering the shocks from her taser.
She dug the prongs into the woman's side with glee as she let go so she wouldn't be shocked herself.
The woman convulsed, and the killer cackled with delight. She relished the fear in the woman's eyes as she administered the shocks. It was a moment of pure power, of control over life and death. And it was ironic, using electricity against someone who had done the same to so many others.
Helpless patients... the killer thought.
But the victory was short-lived. The woman was only unconscious, and the security guard had now turned and was coming back.
The killer had to hide.
She closed the door of the car with the old lady slumped in the driver's seat, and then the killer squeezed into a small alcove between two cars, nerves shredding as the guard walked past. He now stood between her and the car.
The killer looked over her shoulder, but a wall was there.
She was trapped, with no escape in sight.
The killer's hand reached for the stun gun, but it was too late. The guard spotted her and shone his light on her.
"What the hell are you doing down here?" he said. Then the beam of his light shone on the old lady's car, revealing the woman unconscious and slumped in her seat.
The guard let out a gasp. "Hold it right there!"
Adrenaline surged through the killer's veins as she lunged forward, striking the guard with a blow to the head, then plunging the taser into his chest and pulling the trigger. He let out a gasp and shook as the electricity went through his body, then he staggered backwards, falling in front of the old woman's car, crumpled to the ground, groaning.
With the coast clear, the killer bundled the woman into the passenger seat of her car and fumbled for the keys. Her hands shook with excitement as she revved the engine and pulled out of the parking spot.
But the security guard was not done yet. He stirred on the ground, and the killer could see him getting to his feet, dazed. She didn't have time for this. She hit the gas and aimed the car straight at him.
The guard had no chance. He stumbled forward, and the car ran into him with a sickening thud. The killer felt a jolt of satisfaction as she watched him in the rear view mirror, lying on the ground like a bundle of rags.
The car sped away, leaving behind a trail of dust and destruction. The killer was free once more, exhilarated by the rush of adrenaline and the knowledge that she had once again cheated death.
She looked at the old woman, still knocked out in the passenger seat. The killer knew she would need to ditch car and have her revenge on the old woman at the same time.
"Maybe I'll do both at once," she grinned to herself as the skies above darkened into night.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Valerie slumped onto the lumpy motel bed, her mood as dismal as the dingy room. Defeated, she took in her surroundings--the peeling wallpaper, the flickering light in the corner, and the smell of mildew. All of it compounded her weariness after hours of chasing down every lead on the murderer to no avail.
It had been too late to travel back to her apartment, and so she, Will, and Charlie had decided to stop over in a motel for the night.
She let out a sigh and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. The weight of the case was heavy on her shoulders, and she couldn't shake the feeling that time was running out.
She sipped some cheap wine she'd bought at a convenience store and looked at her phone. Her intention was to phone Tom for comfort, but what she saw made her feel nervous instead.
She felt horrified that she had missed a call from her mother's doctor.
Have Heinlein's men questioned her? she thought.
Valerie took another sip of wine, hoping to numb the anxiety that was starting to take over. She stared at the phone, wondering whether she should call the doctor back or just wait until morning. She felt guilty that she had been so focused on the investigation that she had neglected her mother's well-being.
But something inside her stirred, pushing her to make the call. She took a deep breath and dialed the number.
Valerie took a deep breath and dialed Doctor Robertson's number. The phone rang several times before the doctor picked up.
"Hello, Valerie," the doctor said in a somber tone. "I was hoping to speak with you earlier."
"Hello, Doctor Robertson," Valerie replied. "I'm sorry I missed your call earlier. Is everything okay with my mother?"
There was a long pause before Doctor Robertson spoke again. "The board of directors at the hospital has granted the FBI permission to speak with your mother," he said hesitantly.
Valerie's heart sank. "And there's no way to stop them?"
"They say they are actively investigating a cold case," the doctor said. "They believe your mother can help them with their inquiries about the murder of a man named... Let me see in my notes... Yes, Jake Wilson."
Valerie felt a lump form in her throat. "I understand," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. Her worst fears had been realized The FBI believed that her mother was a suspect in her father's death. "But how is my mother doing? Is she stable enough to be interviewed?"
"I have my concerns, as I told you before," Doctor Robertson admitted. "Your mother's mental state is still quite fragmented. But my hands are tied in this matter. I have to follow the orders of the board."
Valerie let out a frustrated sigh. "I appreciate you letting me know, Doctor. I'll make arrangements to come see my mother as soon as possible."
"I'll inform the staff to expect you," Doctor Robertson said before hanging up.
Valerie put down the phone and rubbed her temples, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over her. She knew she needed to be there for her mother, but the thought of confronting her past was overwhelming. And now she was on an active case. If she left it behind, Heinlein would have all he needed to suspend her.
The thought occurred to Valerie that this was exactly Arthur Heinlein's hope.
I can't break, she thought to herself, taking a sip from her drink.
A loud knock suddenly came at the door.
Valerie went to answer it. She was surprised to see Will and Charlie there, drinks in hand. "Hey, guys," Valerie said, stepping aside to let them in. "What brings you two here?"
"Charlie thought it would be nice to have a nightcap together," Will said, holding up the bottle of scotch in his hand.
Valerie smiled and nodded, grateful for the company. Charlie sat down on the bed next to Valerie and took a swig from his glass. He looked troubled.
"What's wrong?" Valerie asked, sensing Charlie's unease.
Charlie sighed and set his glass down on the nightstand. "I guess I have a different motive for this drink before bed... There's been something I've wanted to talk to you both about, but I haven't brought it up. Not really. It's a problem with my son, Richard."
"I remember you said to me a while ago that you were concerned for him?" Will asked.
"It's worse than that, Will. I... I found a knife in Richard's school bag," he said, his voice heavy with worry. "I don't know what to do about it."
Valerie and Will exchanged a concerned look. "Have you talked to him about it?" Will asked.
Charlie shook his head. "I don't even know how to bring it up. I don't want to believe that my son could be capable of something like that. I... I worry he's going to end up like one of the killers we chase. Ever since those thugs turned up at our house, he's never been the same."
Valerie remembered. It was the previous year and Charlie's brother was involved in something illegal. A crime gang turned up to seek revenge and took Charlie's family hostage. Valerie and Charlie had fought them off, but it must have been terribly traumatic for all of them, especially the children.
Valerie put a comforting hand on Charlie's shoulder. "You're a good parent, Charlie," she said. "And Angela is a great mother. There's no way your son is going to end up like one of the killers we chase."
Charlie smiled weakly, grateful for the support. "It feels good to get that off my chest... I've been holding onto it for a while."
"Richard is so young," Valerie said, soothingly. "He probably took the knife because he's scared that the bad men will appear again. But I think it would be worth talking this through with an educational psychologist."
"Yeah, I'll think about it," Charlie said. Then he looked at Will, strangely. "Okay, your turn."
"My turn?" Will laughed. "Is this a group session I wasn't aware of?"
"No," Charlie said. "But I've known for a while we're all carrying things. Maybe it's time we stopped bottling it up."
"And you think I'm bottling something up?" Will asked.
"I think you've been fiddling with that envelope in your inside pocket since we got here."
Will looked down and seemed to see that his hand was unknowingly sitting on the outline of the envelope through his coat.
He sighed.
"What's going on, Will?" Valerie said, feeling guilty that she'd been so wrapped up in her own problems that she hadn't noticed her two closest friends were having difficulties.
Valerie took another sip of wine and watched as Will reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. She raised an eyebrow.
"What's that?" she asked.
Will sighed. "Notes and contact details on an upcoming parole hearing," he explained. "For a criminal I helped put away 23 years ago. His name is Damian Skorzeny."
Valerie and Charlie both looked at him with interest.
"Who's Damian Skorzeny?" Valerie asked.
Will leaned back in his chair. "He's a violent killer. But the people overseeing his case say he's been cured."
Charlie shook his head. "I don't believe it. Once a killer, always a killer."
Will nodded. "But are they? Always? Or can a person fundamentally change? In any case, I've been contacted by a retired detective who was on the case. He wants me to contact the board to stop his release. I just don't know if it's ethical to tell them they should keep him locked up, especially since I believe in rehabilitation. No soul is a lost soul. What if I'm stopping a rehabilitated person from gaining their freedom? Isn't that as bad as jailing an innocent man?"
Valerie listened as Will explained his dilemma. She understood his conflicted feelings. She also knew the dangers of releasing a violent criminal back into society, but she truly believed that everyone could be brought back from the depths of psychopathy. Even when the chances were slim.
"How violent was he when he killed?" Valerie asked.
"A butcher," he said. "There was one victim, I'm certain Skorzeny was the killer. But he's never admitted it. The poor woman was killed in a horrible manner."
Charlie put his hand on Will's shoulder. "Will, if you think he killed someone and hasn't owned up, then Skorzeny hasn't changed. You should do everything you can to make sure he remains in prison." His voice softened. "You're doing the right thing protecting society from a man like that."
Valerie felt uncomfortable with that. She thought of her mother. “Do we condemn people forever, then, with no chance of redemption?”
“This is my thought,” Will said. “I want to keep Skorzeny away from society, but could I be keeping a man behind bars who truly has changed? And if he has, can it be said he's even the same person who was initially incarcerated?”
“If you ask me,” Charlie added. “People who cross the line into being cold, calculating, sadistic killers... They rarely change. We just don't know how to treat them, yet. If it is an illness and not a choice to be like that.”
“Surely an illness?” Valerie asked, thinking of her mother again.
“Perhaps,” Will said, tilting his head in deep thought. “But someone who is motivated to kill by an illness is still a danger. It's just that they should be in a psychiatric setting rather than a prison.”
"The world is a dangerous place," she said softly. "And people like Skorzeny are one of the biggest threats of all. I understand that... But I don't know if I could take away someone's right to redemption. Not everyone stays evil forever.."
“Or good,” Charlie said. “Can you take the risk?”
“I don't know what you should do, Will,” Valerie said. “But it needs careful thought. I'm sure either way, you'll make the right call.”
Charlie looked across at Will with a sterner expression. "But by speaking out against him, you could be saving many lives. Ask yourself, would you be happy for a loved one to meet Skorzeny on a quiet street? If that fills you with dread, there's your answer."
Will nodded, feeling the weight of his responsibility. He looked around at the two people he trusted most in the world and smiled. "Thank you both," he said. "Talking about this with you has made me feel better. It's good to hear both perspectives. I'm sure the good will win out."
Valerie didn't say any more. She was thinking of whether her mother could truly change. If she had done bad things in the past, Valerie wanted more than anything to believe that she was beyond that and on a road that would lead to a cure.
A silence pervaded the room.
Then Will looked at Valerie as if to fill it.
"Tag, you're it," he said.
"My turn?" Valerie felt her heart race. Deep down she wanted to share it all. The hallucinations. The fear her mother was a killer and killed her father. Her ups and downs with Tom, but it was too much for one night. Maybe one day, when the time was right.
"I think I should get to bed," she said.
"No way," Charlie added. "You can't get out of it that easily."
Valerie took a sip of her drink and set it down on the table. She took a deep breath and looked at her two colleagues. It was time to be a little more open. She'd push the door to honesty just a little, a gap wide enough to share something important, without giving away her own demons.
"You know, my mother has important memories about my childhood, but she can't remember them," Valerie said.
Will raised an eyebrow. "I know you had said her memories were fragmented before, but how bad is it?"
Valerie nodded. "She has moments of clarity, but that's all. I want to help her remember, but I'm scared it'll push her over the edge. Still, I think if she could remember some things, maybe the memories will give her a foundation to build on."
Charlie leaned forward. "What do you mean push her over the edge?"
Valerie sighed. "Well, you know she's in a psychiatric ward. She has a history of violence... Against me and my sister. But I swear, it's the illness that does it. She has made progress and I don't want to push her back into that state of mind."
Will nodded. "I understand. But maybe there's a way to help her remember without causing any harm."
Valerie looked at him, intrigued. "What do you suggest?"
Will smiled. "I know a hypnotist who could help her rediscover her memories."
Valerie looked skeptical. "But isn't there a risk of false memories with hypnosis?"
Will shook his head. "I can't rule it out, but the hypnotherapist I know is extremely careful. If anyone can get to your mother's memories, he can."
Charlie rubbed his chin. "I don't know, Will. Hypnosis seems a bit... out there."
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