Red Widow (Vivian Xu, Book 1) (22 page)

“
God damn it, no!” he
screamed.

The girl’s body lurched as someone
yanked her back.

“
Never run ahead of me like
that again,” her mother seethed. Her anger quickly dissolved into a
loving embrace, determined to keep her daughter safe from
harm.

Nikolai melted in relief. To see
child-like purity come so close to the brink of destruction nearly
crippled him. He retreated to his desk, trembling from head to
toe.

If only he had protected his daughter
before tragedy plucked her precious soul from the world. What
penance could possibly cleanse him of his mortal
failure?

Was his dedication to this case merely
an attempt to redeem himself in his own eyes, to convince himself
he could save others? He couldn’t salvage his own daughter, but
perhaps he could save someone else’s.

His vision began to blur under
exhaustion. He dangled by a thread to consciousness, encroaching on
that dangerous slope to oblivion. Lukewarm beads of sweat dribbled
down his forehead.

His lips barely mouthed her
name.

Emily.

Suddenly, his head lie on his desk,
his cheek nestled against crime reports and newspaper clippings.
Several words from the front page glared into his eyes.

Sixth woman vanishes near
apartments.

THIRTEEN

Vivian regarded the ominous cassette
in her hand. Would it offer her a glimpse into the mind of this
depraved killer? Would it leave her on the precipice of insanity
once she peeked inside?

“
Shut up,” she said,
speaking more to her relentless imagination than anything else. She
almost considered leaving the tape in this hidden room, where no
one would ever unearth it.

Alas, her curiosity had been stoked
and there was no cure for what ailed her except the naked
truth.

I guess I have no
choice.

Retracing her steps through the
tunnel, she plodded up the rickety stairs.

The den was barren all but for a faded
carpet, a green suede couch, and a television equipped with a VCR.
How strange that these objects were left behind in a house
virtually stripped bare. She flipped the switch on a floor lamp and
scarlet light doused the room.

She shoved the cassette into the jaws
of the VCR. Sinking into the depths of the musty couch, she punched
play and stared at the screen.

A strange droning emanated from the
television, like a key stuck on a demented organ. It oozed through
the room, burying the background noise of creaking walls and a
sinking foundation. The screen faded to a funeral gray, interrupted
by spasms of static.

“
December 6,
1997.”

The sound of his voice sent her
spinning as surely as if the couch electrocuted her. She tumbled to
the floor and grappled for the gun in her waistband. The room was
devoid of his unholy presence.

“
The subconscious is
believed to be contained in the hypothalamus portion of the
cerebellum and the temporal lobe of the cerebral cortex,” the voice
said.
She swung back toward the
TV.

“
It’s him,” she murmured.
The static melted away to reveal a research lab. Several MRI scans
of brains flickered on a computer screen. She stared at gray gobs
with nerves and blood vessels tunneling through spongy
tissue.

“
The subconscious is a
repository for secret desires, trauma, and fantasies expelled from
the mind by psychological repression. The subconscious is also
instrumental in functions such as breathing and heart rate. I have
filed a patent for an innovative drug designed to delve into the
realm of the subconscious to expose the origins of repressed
trauma. This project has been dubbed Syllax.”

She starkly remembered the way he
spoke to her in the cellar, like a patient during
therapy.

“
He was documenting his
research. He actually
is
a psychiatrist,” she whispered. The camcorder
panned toward a stainless steel table ornamented with trays. The
lenses zoomed in on a set of needles.

“
If I can subdue the
inhibitory reflex and access the subconscious, I may be able to
reveal the source of a patient’s trauma,” he said. “I may even
trace the origins of eating disorders and treat the
symptoms.”

Vivian leaned forward.

“
What is this? Did he
actually think he could treat depression and anorexia this way? By
digging around in the subconscious?”

“
It’s an exciting mystery,
trying to unravel the patient’s mind and discover that pivotal
event that changed his or her life forever,” said the silky voice.
“What unnerves me is the fact that I may soon know them even better
than they understand themselves.”

Static resumed and the screen shifted
to a woman in a barren room. Ginger hair flowed down her shoulders
as she sat complacently in a chair.

“
January 6, 1998. Patient
session with Eileen Slezakova. Eileen has graciously volunteered
for a clinical trial to assess the effectiveness of
Syllax.”

The young woman smiled
sheepishly.

“
Is anyone else going to
see this?”

“
Just me and members of the
research team. You can rest assured, Eileen, nothing you say will
make it beyond these walls.”

“
All right.”

“
Now I want you to relax
and close your eyes.” Vivian jerked when she saw the needle
outstretch toward Eileen’s arm. An anonymous, gloved hand swabbed
the site with alcohol and the needle finally pressed against the
skin. A prick later and a bandage sealed the tiny hole.

“
How are you
feeling?”

“
Okay.”

“
Good. See, that didn’t
hurt at all, did it? Nothing to worry about. Now tell me, has your
mood improved since the last time we met?”

“
A little. I’m getting out
of my room more often and spending time with friends. I actually
went to a club last weekend with Amy.”

“
Eileen, that’s wonderful!
I’m so pleased to hear that you’re branching out of your comfort
zone. I can’t begin to stress just how important it is that you’re
making the effort.”

“
Yeah, it’s growing clearer
to me that I need to get out of the apartment and start interacting
with people.”

“
So tell me about your
experience at the club.”

“
Well, I’ve always felt
kind of silly dancing in public,” she blushed, crossing her legs.
“I feel exposed in club settings, if that makes any sense. I never
know who’s looking at me, who’s laughing…”

“
You should live the life
you want without fear of being judged. You can’t stop people from
thinking ill of you, Eileen. As long as you don’t let that stop you
from being who you aspire to be, it doesn’t matter what they
think.”

Eileen chuckled.

“
That’s what Amy told me,
although her language is a bit more colorful than yours. I’ll
admit, her advice didn’t sink in until I downed a few drinks. I
guess I needed a dose of false confidence to hit the dance
floor.”

“
Well, I suppose that’s a
start. Hopefully, you don’t need a substitute for confidence in the
future.”

“
I know. One more thing…
Before we left, Amy introduced me to a cute guy named
Kristian.”

“
You met him at the
club?”

“
Yeah. We only talked for
five minutes, but it felt like hours. I swear I met him somewhere
before, even though I know it can’t be true. We just clicked
instantly.”

“
Where do you see this
friendship going? Are you imagining something along the terms of a
relationship?”

“
I really like him but I’m
afraid of letting him get too close because… after the incident…
when…”

“
Yes?”

“
After…”

Eileen fell silent. Fear smoldered in
those brilliant eyes.

“
You
,” she breathed.

“
Eileen, are you all right?
What’s the matter?”

“
You!” She howled like a
terrified animal confined to a cage. “What are you doing
here?!”

“
Eileen, calm down! Focus
on me, just focus on me and—”

“
No! Get away from me! Stop
touching me!” She toppled to the floor, scraping her knees. Without
warning, she grabbed her chair and lobbed it across the room. “Stop
it! Just stop!
Stop fucking touching
me!
” A silhouette scrambled toward the
camcorder and the tape cut out.

Vivian dug her nails into the couch,
her entire body knotted in tension.

“
What the
hell?
” she murmured. The video resumed. At
first, she couldn’t understand anything the voice was
saying.

“
Eileen suffered a
post-traumatic episode during clinical trials. Security was forced
to restrain and sedate her until her caregiver arrived. The results
of her session have been rendered void due to her lapse into the
past.”

Suddenly, his voice zipped along at a
rapid speed, and the film deteriorated.

“
January 14. Syllax has
shown promising results in the remaining clinical trials. Ten to
fifteen milliliters of Syllax decreases activity in the left
hemisphere of the cerebral cortex. This dose subdues the conscious
mind’s inhibitory reflex. Activity increases in the right
hemisphere of the cortex, which plays a role in creativity and
imagination; this gives reign to the impulsive subconscious. In
other words, I have replicated the effects of hypnosis. Syllax will
be on the market very soon, I expect.”

The audio dropped and resumed upon the
next entry.

“
February 20. Syllax has
adverse effects on the amygdala in the brain.” This time his voice
sounded frantic, almost out of breath. The camcorder bounced to the
left. “It heightens hostility and fear, inducing a trance of ‘fight
or flight,’ accompanied by a flood of epinephrine. Erratic brain
waves are present in the third week of exposure to
Syllax.

“
A study of patients
exposed to Syllax revealed tumor formation in the cerebrum, which
analyzes sensory information and compares it to memories. Damaged
cells continue to rapidly multiply in this region. The tumor
applies pressure to the occipital lobe and begins to produce
hallucinations. Long term brain damage is present. Syllax has begun
to induce seizures, vomiting, sudden cardiac arrest, and violent
tendencies.”

The tape blacked out again. A white
dot burned in the middle of the screen, swelling in size until a
ghostly pall illuminated Vivian’s face. She blinked and saw a blur
of mortgage papers, foreclosure documents, and court subpoenas.
Bank statements of accounts bled dry were scattered on a desk. His
voice rang out in a depressed, monotone sound.

“
June 14. What a fitting
death.” The needle stabbed a vial and withdrew the amber-colored
nectar. His jittery fingers flicked against the syringe, spattering
a few drops. “To overdose on the drug that has stolen everything
from me: my house, my practice, my reputation. A thousand words
cannot express my sorrow for the harm I have caused. I never
intended for this outcome. I thought I was helping others. I
sincerely do not expect understanding or forgiveness.”

Vivian stared hypnotically as he set
down the camcorder. His shaking hand held the needle to his
wrist.

“
I never intended for this,
I swear.” His voice cracked as tears threatened to surge from a
broken place inside his heart. “There is no way to undo my crimes.”
He thought of the promising future that once beckoned him from
behind a microscope lens. How could something so small take away
everything he fought so hard to achieve?

How many souls had he salvaged
compared to the ones he destroyed? He had accomplished much good
during his practice, but he had also wreaked devastation. Perhaps
no amount of reparations could atone for that. But maybe his life
would suffice.

The needle kissed his vein, ushering
in a toxic dose of Syllax. Chainsaw static rippled across the
screen, shredding the image of a man’s trembling hand. The tape cut
out. The screen refused to yield its pull over Vivian, drawing her
deeper into the pool of black. Then a voice cut through the jarring
static.

“
Mother
… you cannot hurt me anymore.”

The breath caught in her
throat.

* * *

The door swung open to Nikolai’s
office.

“
You arrogant bastard!”
Tatiana yelled, slamming her palms down on Nikolai’s desk. “Did you
forget to tell me you were raiding the suspect’s house?! We’re
supposed to be on the same team!”

“
I was just assembling a
report for you,” Nikolai said, sliding it across the desk. The
gesture did little to placate Tatiana, who viciously swept it
aside.

“
I want to know everything
you’re planning before you make such a rash
move—
not after!
Did
you stop to think about the possibility of hostages? What if the
killer was keeping victims alive in his house? They would have been
slaughtered the moment those armored vans rolled up!”