Obsession (A Murderous Mind Book 2), page 17
Maybe the police could help her find him. He was probably having a nervous breakdown, not murdering people. Probably? Hell, that’s what was happening.
Alicia. She might know what to do.
Diane looked at her shaking hand and wondered if she would be able to find Alicia’s number in this state.
“He’s in Mexico, Alicia. He’s in fucking Mexico.”
“Calm down, honey. Just calm down for a second. I can barely understand you.”
Diane sobbed into the phone. “Oh, God!”
Alicia understood the gist of what she’d said, but the backstory, what was happening, she didn’t understand at all. “Okay, take a few breaths, Diane.”
Alicia waited, sitting up in her bed with the desk lamp on. Mark had rolled over on his side and was looking at her. Both of them had woken up when Diane called.
“What’s going on?”
Her voice slightly calmer, Diane said, “John left. He’s in Mexico. He didn’t tell me and didn’t say goodbye to the boys. He just left. I don’t know what to do.”
Alicia paused before she spoke to make sure her thoughts were in order since the last thing Diane needed right now was her saying something dumb. “Did he tell you why he left?”
Diane laughed. “He said he needed a fucking vacation, Alicia.”
She shook her head. She could feel Mark looking at her, wanting to know what was happening, but she didn’t have any answers for him. “What’s going on over there? What’s happened to him?”
“Oh, Christ.” Diane was still crying into the phone. “A cop came by here, Alicia. A week or so ago, he said John was wanted for murder. Murder.”
Murder.
A calm yet awful feeling bloomed in Alicia’s mind. It felt like a rotten flower made of spoiled meat rather than plant matter opening inside her head. Instead of a floral smell, it gave off putrid vapors and was covered in maggots that lunched on its decay.
“The cop said John murdered someone?” Her voice was calm to her ears, and she only asked the question to let Diane know she hadn’t hung up. In truth, what Diane said right now didn’t matter.
That disgusting flower grew rapidly, expanding beyond the first few petals and creating a huge trunk for a massive tree of rotten flesh.
“Murder” fit into a spot that Alicia hadn’t known existed. Even now, unable to stop the flower from growing inside her, she didn’t understand what it meant.
She just knew it meant something important.
“Yes. John said he didn’t do it. He said he was going to get a lawyer, but I don’t even know if he got one.”
“He’s in Mexico?” Alicia confirmed.
“Yes. He went there today.”
“Oh, my God,” Alicia whispered. “Have you talked to our dad?”
“No, I just called you. I didn’t know who else to call. The kids don’t even know yet.”
“Okay. Let me call John. I’m going to call my dad, too. I’ll get ready and come over, okay? I can call in sick tomorrow.” She was already getting out of bed. Mark was sitting up and turning on his bedside lamp.
“Are you sure? You don’t mind?” Diane asked.
“Of course not. Give me a half-hour.”
She got off the phone and headed to her closet.
“What the hell’s going on?” Mark demanded.
“My brother. He went to Mexico, apparently.”
“What?” Mark got out of bed.
“Yeah, I don’t know what’s happening.” Alicia simultaneously dug through her hangers and flicked through her contacts until she found John. “Calling him.”
She put the phone to her ear and listened.
One ring. Then it went to voicemail.
“Damn it.” She hung up.
“Nothing?”
“His phone’s off.” She tugged a shirt over her head and reached for pants while looking at her phone to find her father’s number.
It rang once, then went to voicemail.
“This is insane,” she said loud enough for Mark to hear.
“Him too?”
“The whole world has decided to stop talking.” She shoved her legs into a pair of sweats and exited the closet. “I’m heading over there.”
“You want me to come?”
“No. Get some sleep. I’ll let you know what’s happening in the morning.”
She walked over and kissed him. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” he answered.
Scott woke up in a New York City hotel room. He hadn’t slept in New York before, and he realized that as he opened his eyes and looked out the window next to his bed. He’d spent a good deal of money on the room, which gave him a view over Times Square. This would be the one and only night he slept here—not just in the room but in the city. Whatever he found out today would put such a horrible taste in his mouth that he’d never return.
He had a few hours to kill but didn't know how to spend them. He hadn’t thought about sightseeing when he booked the trip. He’d made the two most important reservations, one being the hotel, and flown out of Dallas.
His phone had been off since he boarded the plane, and he didn’t plan on turning it back on. He would see this out, then make whatever decisions needed to be made. He didn’t want to hear Alicia’s worries or even John’s. Not yet. Lori had left this up to him, so he would be the one to carry it.
Scott toured through the early morning, trying to see as much as he could. His mind wouldn’t let him, not really. It was focused on what was coming next, so the sights were a secondary, perhaps even a third-level issue.
Finally, he went to the building that housed the man he had come to see. It was a tall thing with a lot of offices, which surprised Scott, given the man’s age he wanted to meet. He followed the signs, rose up the elevator, and found the correct office. He told the lady up front who he was here to see, then sat down to wait.
“Mr. Hilt?”
Scott had been staring at the wall, oblivious to the world.
He blinked and looked at the door that led to the individual offices. “Yes. Dr. Brighton?”
“That’s right. Come on back.”
The man was older than Scott, but he stood straight and had a wiry strength under his tailored suit. He wore a tie but not a suit jacket, and his face was clean-shaven.
Scott stood and walked across the office and shook Dr. Brighton’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too. I’m right this way.”
They went through a short hallway, and then they were in the nicest office he’d ever seen. “Wow.”
“Working until you’re seventy-eight does have its perks.”
Scott didn’t turn around, just took in the size of the office and the immaculate decor. The window stretched from floor to ceiling and wall to wall, revealing New York City's skyline. Multiple couches surrounded a marble table as if this were a living room and not the office of a psychiatrist who charged five hundred dollars an hour.
“Sit anywhere you like.”
Scott didn’t know which couch to take, so he went to the one on his right and sat. The doctor walked around the marble table and took the one whose arms touched Scott’s couch.
“You really piqued my curiosity by asking about Vondi. At my age and with this work, it takes a lot to make me curious, so thank you for that. I hadn’t thought about him in ten years. I moved out this way right after his death.”
Scott smiled, though he didn’t want to. “I wish I was here about something more pleasant.”
“So, you want to talk about Vondi? May I ask why?”
Scott looked at the table, not sure what he wanted to say, or rather, how to say it. “My son saw him a long time ago. My son and my wife. Jesus, this is going to sound ridiculous. My wife died a little over ten years ago, and she told me some disturbing things while she was in the hospital. Back then, I thought...well, I thought she was dying and didn’t know what she was talking about.”
Scott looked at the doctor. “Some things have happened recently that make me wonder if I was wrong. I know this is a real long shot, but I wanted to ask if Dr. Vondi ever talked to you about my son.”
The doctor leaned back on his couch and placed his hands on his knees. “What’s your son’s name?”
“John Hilt.”
Dr. Brighton didn’t move, just stayed in that peculiar position. “Have you heard of doctor-patient privilege, Mr. Hilt?”
He nodded. “Yes. I knew this was a long shot, but I hoped... I want to know what’s wrong with my son.”
The doctor stood, went to the window, and clasped his hands behind his back. “I’ve never seen anyone die like Vondi did. It was like something out of a horror movie.”
Scott nodded. “I heard.”
“So, you’ve only just heard? A few days ago? You didn’t know when it happened?”
“No. No one spoke about it back then.”
“Your son John… He was seeing Vondi when it happened, right?”
“Yes.”
“All that happened a long time ago,” Dr. Brighton mused. “At this point, I suppose I have enough money that I don’t need my medical license if I’m called before the board. There are ethical issues with me talking to you as well, but I don’t think Vondi would mind.” He paused long enough that Scott wasn’t sure he’d continue. “I wanted to say something when it happened, but I didn’t because I didn’t know much.”
The doctor turned around. “I remember the name Hilt because it’s unique. He spoke about your son a few times. Did he ever leave the States?”
Scott nodded.
The doctor’s lips formed a thin line. “Vondi spoke about him before he left, then spoke about him when he came back. He was worried about your son. What’s his name?”
“John.”
The doctor nodded and turned back around. “What’s going on with him now?”
Scott looked at the doctor’s back and was glad for it since he didn’t know what the hell to say. “I... This is going to sound stupid.”
“You came a long way, Mr. Hilt. I wouldn’t worry about sounding stupid in a shrink’s office.”
“It’s nothing. That’s the point. He missed his mother’s death anniversary. His wife and his sister say he’s been acting differently. There’s not anything to shake your finger at. Just, I keep thinking about what his mother said to me when she was dying.”
Scott sighed. “John’s gone through a lot of dark spells.” The doctor nodded but remained silent. “He came out years ago and told us he was an alcoholic, and that was why he went through those spells. I think he’s heading into another of those, except he doesn’t sound like he’s drinking.”
“Has he ever sounded like he’s drinking? Have you seen him drunk?” the doctor asked, interrupting Scott.
“No.”
“How long do these spells last, Mr. Hilt?”
“A few months, usually.”
Dr. Brighton faced him. “What did your wife say?”
Scott had already given this man more than he had planned. Now he would tell him something he had never told anyone. When he met the doctor’s gaze, Scott could tell that the man understood the dilemma: how much to give up in his search for answers.
“She said I had to protect his wife and kids. That one day, he’d hurt them.”
Again the slow nod from Dr. Brighton. “Has he hurt them?”
“No. Never.”
“I don’t know everything about what Vondi thought,” Dr. Brighton said. “That’s why I never said anything. He was scared of your son. That, and he felt he had a duty to stop him.”
“Stop him from what?” Scott asked.
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me, and I’m not sure he even knew. He was searching for something on your son that would support whatever he had in his mind. To be honest, I thought he was going overboard until he wound up with a knife lodged in his neck.”
The notebook sang to him like sirens had once sung to sailors.
Scott knew that a lot of pain waited if he opened it, just as the sailors had known what would happen if they responded.
The allure was becoming too great. He knew it, yet he sat on the plane, not opening the carry-on in which the notebook resided.
Vondi had been worried about John.
Lori had been worried about John.
Now, Alicia and Diane were worried about John.
Apparently, the only person who hadn’t worried was him. Scott never worried. Always laughed at those who did and ribbed Lori and Alicia every chance I got. Now it feels like the world sits on my shoulders because I ignored all this for far too long.
I have to open the goddamn notebook and find out what I’m so scared of.
Scott reached under his seat, pulled out the small leather bag, and removed Lori’s journal.
People sat on either side of Scott, but he didn’t notice them. He didn’t even consider what they might think if they glanced at Lori’s notebook. His attention was focused on his hands and what they were doing.
He flipped past the first few pages since he’d already read them.
He had a five-hour flight. He figured he could finish it by the time he landed.
27
EXCERPTS FROM A DEAD WOMAN'S JOURNAL
England.
John’s in England now, and I’m horrified. I don’t know why I ever thought this was a good idea. Here I can watch over him, but there? What the hell can I do?
Vondi’s here, but so fucking what? I could have had John stop seeing him. Could have gotten a restraining order if necessary. We could have moved. Instead, I sent my only son across the ocean just as he’s becoming a man, and I haven’t prepared him for what’s to come.
That’s what scares me the most.
I did nothing to show him what is about to happen, and I’m the only one who knows. I’ve never told anyone. Not Vondi, not other therapists, none of them. Perhaps I’ve been too scared to face it, but I could have helped. I know more than I told Vondi.
Face it? That means I have to face the fact that she was human since, in my mind, she’s inhuman. A monster. I’ve wanted to keep her in that box, and talking about anything other than the horrid things she did... Goddamn it. I don’t know if I want to think about it even now.
John. That’s who I have to remember.
It’s not about me anymore. It’s not about my life. John is the one who’s about to live through this. What my mother already did.
My mother.
Not Clara, but the person who gave me life. The person who gave John life as well.
She speaks to me sometimes. That’s what I didn’t tell Vondi. I’ve told him about some of the dark times, but there were other times too. Perhaps not joyous or happy, never those, but not horrible? Yes.
She told me she knew the day it happened, the very day she started changing from normal to what she became. I still remember the words.
“I can’t help what I am, Lori. I know you don’t believe that, and I don’t expect you to, but it’s the truth. Something changed in me when I was a teenager.”
She didn’t look at me. We sat on our porch, both of us in rocking chairs like the Cleavers. My father had been dead for almost four years at that point. I had a year left before I could legally leave. She was sick by then, though she didn’t know it. One of the guys she’d brought home had a surprise for her too, though it took a lot longer. AIDS strikes both the normal and the abnormal, I suppose.
But all that came later. That day, she was sick. She thought she had a cold, so her mania was tempered.
“My dad used to beat me. Did I ever tell you that?”
“No,” I replied, but I don’t think she heard me. I don’t think she was talking to me. Maybe she subconsciously knew she was dying and that was why she spoke.
“I think the beatings started before I had the ability to form memories. The fucking? He didn’t start doing that until I could remember. It all took off from there, I suppose. When you’re that young and Daddy is sticking his dick in you, the brain naturally does some things differently. I don’t know much about the science, but I know that by the time I was ten, I didn’t care about anyone. I didn’t care about my mom or my dad. They could both have burned alive or been made the President of the United States. All the same to me.”
She paused for a long time, and I was too scared to move. She had never spoken like this, and if I’m honest, I craved it. Fear and desire are strange emotions if you combine them.
“Not caring, and what I am? They’re worlds away from each other. That came later. I was seventeen when the flip happened at prom. At the damn prom. I remember that movie Carrie where a girl has her period and somehow gets superpowers. That didn’t happen, but something close to it.
“I let the boy get on top of me after we snuck out of the gym and into Mrs. Greer’s history classroom. I didn’t care if he fucked me. My dad had just stopped doing it the past year when I threatened to kill him since he knew I meant it.
“He was getting real hot, about to come, and something inside me clicked. It felt like...”
She looked at me then, the only time she noticed I was there. She looked me dead in the eye. “It felt like home.”
She turned back to the lawn. “I won’t go into details about what I did, but he didn’t hump anyone else for a while. Before that, I didn’t care. After that, I enjoyed hating. It’s weird when I think about how quickly the change happened. There wasn’t any going back.”
There’s more to it. She told me a lot more, but...
I think John’s at that point. I think his time of tipping over is about to happen, and Christ, I sent him away. I didn’t even tell him.
ALL I FUCKING SAID WAS TO BE CAREFUL.
I didn’t give him the knowledge my mother gave me.
Vondi knows. He hasn’t said it, but he knows, and he’s going to do something.
I don’t know what, but it won’t be good for John.
John is back now. He was careful in England. At least, I thought he was. Vondi? Why does he care so goddamn much, and whose fault is this, really? Mine. I’m the one who sent John there. Now look at the whole mess.
