The Deceiving Look (Shepard & Gray), page 27
Solomon had nothing to say to that. His mind was a mess of swirling thoughts and buried emotions. Why was he trying to save this man? Scouring his memory, he wasn’t able to come up with a single instance where Ethan was kind to him or showed compassion. Of his many tormentors, Ethan was one of the worst.
“They had a library in Lakeview. It was where I spent most of my time. You know my favorite book they had there? Civilization and Its Discontents, by Freud. I think we abandoned Freud a little too quickly, don’t you?” He motioned to the waitress for another beer. “The point of the book is that civilization is necessary to control humanity’s darker impulses, like murder, but by controlling them, we create unhappiness in ourselves with the restrictions. We’re animals with invisible chains on us wherever we go.” He leaned in close, a glint in his eyes. “But we don’t have to be, Solomon. We can break free. Murder frees us from the confines of civilization, from the misery of discontent.”
“I didn’t come here to debate civilization.”
“What did you come here for then?”
“I came here to ask you to turn yourself in,” Solomon said. “You killed the district attorney. There’s going to be a lot of cops with itchy trigger fingers. They’ll be looking for an excuse to pull those triggers. If you turn yourself in, we can save your life.”
He sat back and sighed. “I’ve been down this road before. Many times before. The problem is that I’m not legally competent to stand trial, so they can only hold me in a hospital. And though I’m maybe not legally competent, I am cognizant enough to be able to tell that I’m not legally competent. It’s an odd little section of the law, don’t you think?”
“The law’s inadequately equipped to handle mental health issues.”
“I agree completely. It’s terrible at dealing with mental health. Which is funny because as far as my experience goes, everyone’s insane. Maybe the ones outside the institutions can just hide it a little better.”
Solomon swallowed and looked down to his glass of water. “You took two lives just to get my attention. You have to realize how sick you are.”
“I do. But here’s the thing, I don’t care.” He held out his arms. “I’m happy.”
“Nobody who’s happy kills for fun.”
He looked around at some of the women nearby. “This isn’t exactly how I wanted our family reunion to play out.”
“What did you expect? Barbecues and baseball games?”
“Would it be so bad to have someone to do those things with?”
“No. But not if that person kills two innocent men—”
“There’s that word again. Innocent. In the words of Inigo Montoya, I do not think that means what you think it means.”
“Okay, not innocent. Dennis and Roger were two horrible people, who under normal circumstances it would take a lot for me to feel any sadness over. But to think they died because you thought it’d be fun to mess with me makes me feel sick, Ethan. It’s not a tribute to me. You hated me. I saw nothing but cruelty from you. You killed those men because you knew it would terrify me, and because it would be fun.”
He chuckled, but there was no joy in it. “You really were the smartest of the two of us, weren’t you? I mean, your dad would always tell me that, but our mom never did, so it was hard for me to tell if it was true. But here you are, two master’s degrees and a doctorate in law. To come from the background we came from and achieve that, Solomon, is truly amazing. You should be proud.” He finished his fresh bottle of beer in a few gulps and then belched.
“Let’s go. I have something to show you. You’re gonna like it.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
49
Solomon felt suffocated by the city as he sat in the car’s passenger seat. Despite rolling down the windows and letting the frigid wind hit his face, he still couldn’t shake the sensation that he was trapped in a shrinking box.
They had been on the freeway for over an hour, and the only thing that broke the silence was the occasional pebble flying up and hitting the car.
“How about some music?” Ethan said. “What are you into?”
“You wouldn’t like it.”
Ethan glanced at him. “It doesn’t have to be this way between us, you know. I actually did come here to offer you something.”
“What?”
“A choice. See, I’m free, Solomon. The world is my oyster. Whatever the hell that means. But I’ve connected with myself, with who I am and where I came from, and by doing that, I freed myself. But I couldn’t do it by myself, I had to have someone show me. He was another inmate at Lakeview. An older boy who knew more about the world, I swear, than any ten men I’ve ever met. Pain can do that, can’t it? People who grow up without any pain are helpless in the world.”
“Is that what you think you do? Deliver pain to better the world?”
“No. I mean, granted, most of the people I’ve killed in my life deserved it, like your dear mayor and district attorney, or Fridge, so in a way, yes, I am making the world a better place. But that’s not why I do it.” He held up a finger. “And I think you know that. I think you know exactly why I do it because you have it inside you, too, don’t you? I mean, not enough to go out and kill, I suppose, but it’s in there. Isn’t it?”
“We all have a shadow.”
“Yeah, but most people’s shadows don’t tell them to kill and have the person follow through. It’s more than a fragment of our psyche, it’s who we are.”
Solomon felt nauseated hearing him talk but had to keep him occupied. It was clear he wasn’t going to turn himself in—there was too much damage done throughout his life—but maybe Solomon could still save his life if he could get Billie out here first, before tactical or trigger-happy deputies.
He had purposely avoided the subject of Mazie as much as possible, hoping to make his brother more comfortable first.
“Where’s Mazie, Ethan?”
He grinned. “Why? You banging her?”
“Ethan,” he said softly, “please. Where is she?”
His jaw muscles clenched and unclenched. “I can’t wait for you to see what I have planned. Really. I think you’re just going to love it.”
As Ethan continued to ramble on for another hour, Solomon felt relief when they finally arrived at the top of a hill with a stunning view overlooking the Salt Lake Valley. In the distance, a lone figure, a young woman, made her way up the well-lit hillside of a nearby cemetery, capturing Solomon’s attention.
Beside the cemetery, a striking old building caught his eye. It appeared to be a hospital from the 1950s or ’60s, likely a place where affluent families would send their children or siblings who suffered from unidentified disorders. Solomon knew it was more of a way for families to hide their perceived shame than for any true therapeutic reasons.
A wrought iron sign with the words “The Sanctuary at Lakeview” hung above the entrance to the property.
Ethan drove into the front lot and parked. The headlights lit up the worn-down facade of the hospital.
The building had once been white but faded to a urine-colored dull yellow. Some pillars were on the front porch, but they were chipped and nearly paintless now. Most of the windows were removed, and the ones that hadn’t been were broken out.
Nature had begun to overtake the building with ivy, moss, and ferns growing over the walls. Solomon had read once that if humanity were to suddenly disappear, either by disease or nuclear self-destruction, those would be the three plants that would most thrive in an urban environment without people.
Solomon had dreams for weeks afterward of entire cities littered with skeletons, plants intertwining between the sun-bleached bones.
“Tears on a river,” Ethan said.
“What?”
“Something Fridge used to say whenever somebody cried when he was inflicting one of his punishments. Tears on a river. I hadn’t thought about that in twenty years before today.”
“Ethan, whatever you think’s going to happen in there, it won’t go down like you think. Listen to me, please . . . you are sick. This is all in your head. It’s your trauma response and your mental illness convincing you this is a rational course of behavior. It is not.”
“Do you ever get sick of listening to yourself talk?”
Solomon held his gaze, but there was nothing there. They were like a doll’s eyes, black and glossy.
“I’m not moving until I know Mazie is safe.”
“Really? So you’ll just sit in the car all night? I don’t think so. This night has been years in the making, Sally. You want to see what I have planned for you as much as I do.”
“What you have planned for the little brother you think snitched you to the cops and got you locked up in this place? I think I’d like to skip that part.”
He laughed. “I learned a long time ago that grudges are a waste of energy. It’s all energy, Sally. And you only got a finite amount, so you gotta be careful what you spend it on. I don’t hate you for what you did. In fact, this night, believe it or not, is for you.”
Solomon wanted to explain to him the difference between illusion and reality, and how it was almost impossible to tell the difference. That ever since Solomon could remember, Ethan had been hearing things that weren’t there, misinterpreting social situations and responding with violence, even sometimes claiming to see people no one else saw. If someone had gotten to him young, maybe a difference could’ve been made, but not anymore.
He got out of the car.
“See,” Ethan said, “you can be reasonable when you want to be. I am really excited for this, Sally. It’s really gonna be something.”
Solomon trailed behind Ethan as they pushed open the massive double doors and stepped inside the atrium of the asylum. The scene before them was one of complete chaos, with discarded papers and debris all over the floor. The remaining pieces of furniture were in shambles, either broken down or rusted, and covered in a thick layer of dust that had accumulated over time.
As Solomon took a deep breath, he was hit by the overpowering stench of damp earth, giving the impression that the place had been untouched for decades.
“What are we doing here?” Solomon said.
“It’s no fun to ruin a surprise.”
After a few moments, Solomon cautiously pulled out his phone, quickly typed out a text message to Billie to let her know where they were, and then just as quickly slipped the phone back into his pocket.
As Solomon turned the corner, a reception desk came into view, adorned with a thick transparent plastic barrier that had small openings at the bottom for passing items back and forth. On the other side of the wall, a colossal rusted steel door loomed, its intimidating presence taking over the room.
Ethan stepped forward and placed his palm gently on the cold metal surface, his mind seemingly lost in thought and memory as he ran his fingers over the rusted steel before pulling away and grabbing the door handle to open it.
“Memory lane?” Solomon said.
“Yeah, and not the good kind. This door represented freedom to everybody here. If you could get out of this door, you had a real chance to get away.”
He inhaled through his nose and opened the door. “After you.”
As they ventured farther into the building, the hallway stretched out before them, seeming to extend infinitely into the depths of the asylum. The few windows that were present offered little to no light, leaving Solomon to rely on his cane to avoid tripping on any unseen obstacles.
Ethan was manic. He was skipping and kicked a box, shouted just to hear his echo. It was as if the outside world didn’t exist to him, the circumstances didn’t matter.
“This isn’t good for you, Ethan. Your mind’s not ready to process this kind of trauma from being here. You have to ease into it over time.”
“Oh, I’ve already been here once today. Didn’t I tell you? Yeah, I already took the tour, defecated on the Fridge’s desk, and took a little nap in my old cell. They didn’t call them cells, but that’s what they were.” He held out his arms. “You’re looking at my childhood, Solomon.”
“This wasn’t your childhood. This was the place you went after your childhood. Your childhood before this was—”
“Whatever psychobabble you’re about to say, don’t. I’ve heard it all. Psychiatrists, counselors, neurologists, behavioral experts, you name it, I’ve been through it. This place was nothing if not thorough.”
“You made it sound like nobody in this place gave a crap about you. Sounds like a lot of people did.”
It was the first time he saw a look of . . . not quite surprise but more like hesitation on Ethan’s face. A thought had made a connection that he didn’t want, and Solomon could almost see his mind begin to shut down the thinking process of where it would lead.
“Ethan, do you know why I just made you uncomfortable? Because your mind was about to have a realization that your body already knows. This place wasn’t out to get you. Nobody was. These people were here to help you.” He took a step toward him so they were closer. “There is a disorder called depersonalization-derealization disorder. People that suffer from it are completely detached from their surroundings. It’s like the real world isn’t real and that things that are happening are not really happening.”
He took another step toward him. Ethan was staring wide eyed, unmoving, unblinking.
“You feel like you’re observing all this in a dream, don’t you? Like none of it is real.”
“How do you know?”
Solomon hesitated. “Because I have it too.”
Ethan’s brow furrowed a moment, but only a moment. Then it softened, and he smiled and pointed his finger playfully and said, “You’re trying to stall me because you texted someone back there, didn’t you? Well, it’s not gonna help, Sally. Because I’m pretty sure the person you texted isn’t coming.”
He opened a door to his right and said, “Because she’s already here.”
Solomon’s heart sank as he rushed toward the door and peered inside. The sight before him made his blood run cold. Billie was tied to a metal gurney with straps securing her ankles and wrists, rendering her completely immobile. Next to her, Mazie lay in a similar position, bound by the same restraints, her clothes dirty and bloodstained from a wound on her head that had since dried.
The only source of light in the room was a lamp lying on the floor between them, casting a haunting glow. The corners of the room remained cloaked in darkness.
Mazie was struggling and trying to scream against the duct tape over her mouth, but Billie looked unconscious.
“What is this?” Solomon said breathless.
“This,” he said with his arms out, “is your birth. The real me was born here, right in my cell. This is the place that made me. With beatings and torture, it created who I am. So I figured where better for you to be born into this life with me than here?”
“Born with you?”
“Mm-hmm. We’re all we got left. Neither one of us are going to have kids, so the Shepard line dies with us. So hell, if our genetic lineage is about to be extinguished, let’s go out with a bang.” He put his hands on Solomon’s shoulders. “I’ve studied your life. You might as well already be dead. You sit in that giant house, protected by fences and guns, thinking you can keep the world away. But the world never stays away, Solomon. It’ll creep back in. So don’t fight it. Come with me. We’ll travel around the world doing whatever we want. No restrictions, no slave morality of the masses to hold us back. No discontent. True freedom.”
The thought wasn’t unpleasant. Solomon pictured long drinking sessions in bars in Madrid and gondola tours in Venice. Away from a dark, empty house. Away from everyone who wanted to hurt or use him. But then he looked at Billie and knew that Ethan saw something in his expression.
Ethan’s next words cut through Solomon like a knife, seemingly reading his thoughts with unerring accuracy.
“She used you,” he said, his voice heavy with accusation. “The first time she came to you, she knew exactly what it would do to you. And she knew it this time, too, but she still came to you, didn’t she?”
Solomon felt a surge of anger, but he couldn’t deny it was true. Billie should have known the emotional toll her actions would take on him. She should have understood that he wasn’t psychologically prepared to handle investigating crimes anymore.
Solomon looked at her on the metal gurney. Her face was mostly hidden in shadow, but she looked peaceful. Her brow wasn’t furrowed in concentration, no muscles were contracted, her posture wasn’t perfect. It was only seeing her like this that he realized how intense a mask she had to put on just to survive in the environment she was in.
Solomon shook his head. “Let them go.”
Ethan leaned against the door and folded his arms. “No. But I will make you a deal. You kill one of them, and I’ll let the other one live. Then we fly to Brazil tonight and spend the next year in a haze of drugs and booze.”
Solomon, the fear and rage inside of him barely letting him move, touched Ethan’s arm to make sure his attention was focused solely on him, and spoke calmly as he said, “I know this feels like a show to you, but it’s real, Ethan. You’re about to murder real people. You’re not watching this from somewhere else. You are right here, and you’re the one doing this.”
Ethan looked confused a moment, but the moment passed.
In a quick movement, he picked up a thick knife that was lying next to Billie’s leg on the gurney. Solomon felt an icy fear slither its way up his spine. But Ethan flipped the knife over, holding the blade, and held it out for Solomon.
“Actually, you’re the one doing this. So choose.”
“No.”
“You have to. If you don’t,” he said as he pulled out a handgun from his waistband, “I’m going to shoot both of them in the face.”
“Ethan—”
“No!” he shouted. “No more talking. Choose.”
Solomon’s gaze fell onto the knife, taking note of the blood that had crusted into a small crevice between the handle and the blade. Tentatively, he reached up and grasped the handle, feeling the smooth wood in his palm. The knife was heavy.
