Rusty Nail

CHAPTER 15

ALEX SHIFTS ON the couch and mentally replays the shrink’s question.

“What are some of the things your father did to you?”

There are so many, Alex sometimes wonders if they were all real. The punishment box, the size of a coffin, locked inside for days without food or water. Wetting the bed and being forced to lick up the mess. Kneeling on thumbtacks. Being hung from the rafters and lashed until you went hoarse from screaming. Having to help Father kill people. Even other children, friends from school.

“He did many things,” Alex says. “If there was an award for child abuse, he’d have won.”

“You know it’s abuse as an adult. How about as a child? Did you understand your father was unfit?”

“I knew Father was different, but I didn’t understand he was crazy until years later. I didn’t question the abuse. I just tried to cope.”

“By killing cats?”

Alex smiles. Dr. Morton has probably been waiting to slip that in.

“Among other things. We lived in constant fear, and did things to help with the fear.”

“What things?”

“I would cut myself, sometimes, on my legs. Isn’t that strange? Here I was, a kid, being horribly abused, and I abused myself even more.”

“Perhaps you were doing it to express the pain you were feeling inside.”

Alex digested this.

“Or perhaps I began to like the pain.”

“Do you enjoy pain, Alex?”

Alex sneaks a glance at Dr. Morton. The good doctor is calm and composed, as usual.

“I’m not sure. I was always terrified of being hurt. But after a while, it was kind of like a challenge. Sort of like, I can handle this, what else have you got? I don’t think I enjoy the pain so much as I enjoy mastery over it.”

“How about the pain of others?”

Alex grins, full wattage.

“Oh, now that I love.”

“Hence the cats.”

“Yeah. Hence the cats.”

“But you know now that it’s not beneficial for you to harm animals.”

Alex nods. “Right. No more animals. I’m clear on that.”

Dr. Morton makes a grunting sound, perhaps trying to convey approval.

“What are some of the other things you did to cope, Alex?”

“Sex. I had sex.”

“Were you sexually abused by your father?”

“No. Never. For Father, sex was something perverted. Unnatural. The devil’s work.”

“Is that how you feel about sex?”

“No. I think sex between two people who love each other can be a beautiful thing.”

“How old were you at the time?”

Alex thought about it. “Fourteen.”

“And the person you had sex with?”

“Fifteen.”

“Were you in love?”

Alex’s eyes close, and the memories seep in. Stolen kisses. Sideways glances. Shameful caresses that felt so good, they couldn’t be the devil’s doing.

“Yes. Yes, I was in love.”

The timer on the desk beeps.

“We’ve come to the end of another session.” Dr. Morton stands up, smiles benevolently.

“Same time tomorrow?” Alex asks.

“Unfortunately, no. I’m booked for the day.”

Alex’s mood darkens. “You told me we could have daily sessions. I’ll only be in town for a short time, and I have a lot to figure out.”

Dr. Morton pats Alex on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, but it can’t be helped. I can see you the next day, same time.”

“I’d really like to see you tomorrow.”

“Impossible. But if it matters, I think you’re coming along wonderfully.”

Alex blinks. “I am?”

“You are. You’re well on the road to recovery, Alex. The progress you’ve made in these last few sessions is tremendous. Take a day off. Do something fun. Enjoy yourself.”

Alex stands, extends a hand.

“I’ll do that. Thank you, Doctor. See you tomorrow.”

Dr. Morton smiles. “The day after tomorrow, Alex. You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

Alex walks outside, to the rear of the rental car. Looks carefully up the street. Down the street. No one is around. Alex opens the trunk.

Dr. Francis Mulrooney stares up, eyes wide with terror. Clothesline binds his wrists and ankles, tight enough to be cutting off the circulation. It’s probably excruciating, Alex thinks. The graphologist’s hands are an ugly blue. Deprived of blood, necrosis is already setting in. Like dead fruit, rotting on the vine.

It doesn’t matter. He won’t be needing his hands ever again.

Mulrooney tries to scream, but the gag muffles it. Alex shushes him.

“It’s okay. My psychiatrist says I’m making a lot of progress.”

Mulrooney had been incredibly easy to locate; a quick call to the university did the trick. And kidnapping is child’s play. All a person needs is some Rohypnol, available over the Internet, and a used wheelchair. Jab a man on the street, sit him down as the drug takes immediate effect, and take him anywhere. He won’t even complain.

Alex opens the kit bag by Mulrooney’s feet and removes a syringe.

“Nighty-night time. When you wake up again, we’ll be at my new place. I’m going to see how much of your skin I can peel off before you die.”

Another muffled scream. Alex jams the needle into his biceps and injects the drug.

It will be a pleasant warm-up for Jack. Alex is pleased that the lieutenant survived. It would have been a shame for her to die without getting to know her.

Mulrooney’s eyes begin to flutter. Alex pats him on the cheek.

“I have to enjoy myself. Doctor’s orders. But first, we need to stop at the hardware store and get some tools. Can’t skin you without tools.”

Mulrooney continues to scream as the trunk is closed.