Slasherazzi (19 page)

I spent the rest of the day cooped up in the motel room while Vince worked through some new theories, pointless though they were. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense that I was the killer. My job gave Russell— me—the means and the opportunity to carry out the kills while staying ahead of the game. And Russell supplied the motive. A childhood filled with sexual abuse and beatings at the hand of his own father, creating an intense hatred that burned deep within my subconscious, waiting for the right moment to be unleashed.

By the evening, I was convinced that the killer and I were one and the same. How else could I explain my sudden disappearance the night before? I had no recollection of ever leaving the motel, only of falling asleep next to Vince and waking up to find him watching me. I’d seen similar cases before, where the suspects would claim no memory of their crimes. Only, I thought they were joking. Now I wasn’t so sure.

It wasn’t just the previous night that had me convinced, though. Ever since the deaths started, my sleep hadn’t been very restful. I’d chalked it up to the stress of the case, especially with it being my first as detective and the most gory and disturbing I’d seen since joining homicide. The night David Ashcroft had been murdered, I’d slept through my alarm. That never happened to me. If I had been up most of the night to settle a score with my biological father, then it would explain why I felt like shit the next morning. And I had no alibi for the nights of the other murders, except that I was asleep, and alone.

Later that night, Vince and I agreed that we would head back home the following morning. We settled into bed, and I closed my eyes. Vince drifted off first as I’d hoped. I waited a short while before slowly climbing out and picking up a fresh set of clothes that I had left on the chair near the window. After dressing, I picked up my backpack and pulled a folded piece of paper from the front pocket, which I left on the bedside table next to the alarm clock.

Vince had sprawled across the bed to fill up the empty space, his chest rising and falling in long, slow movements. A small smile graced his lips. I reached out a hand toward him but pulled it back. Couldn’t risk waking him up. If he knew what I was planning, he would convince me not to go, which said a lot about my resolve. But there was no other option, short of turning myself over to the feds.

Already feeling my determination crumble, I tiptoed to the door and slipped out into the cool night air. I threw my backpack into the car and climbed in to start the engine. Before long, I was pulling up to St. Cuthbert’s. I waited for a few minutes in the parking lot, my hands gripping the steering wheel. I could still turn back and curl up in bed with Vince again. He would never have to know I left. Maybe if I confided in him, he could help make sure I wouldn’t kill anyone again.

I shook my head. It was too risky. Nine people were dead already—that we knew of—and I wasn’t about to risk anymore lives, innocent or otherwise. Especially Vince’s. I stepped outside and walked briskly up to the empty reception area, where a tall Hispanic woman greeted me from behind a glass screen.

“Can I help you, sir?” she asked.
“I’d like to commit myself.”
“May I ask why?”
“Because I’m a danger to everyone around me. I hurt

The woman’s eyes widened, and she reached over to the side of the desk for a clipboard with a form attached. “You’ll need a psychiatric evaluation before we can commit you. I’ll see if any of the doctors can fit you in. For now, please fill out this form. I’ll be right back.”

She handed me the clipboard and pen before exiting through a door at the back of the reception. I sat down in the waiting area and read through the questions. Name. Address. Emergency contact. Easy enough.

Any previously diagnosed conditions or prescribed medications? None. Reason for wanting to commit myself. I tapped the pen against the corner of the board before scribbling down an answer, omitting the part about my alter ego being a serial killer. The last thing I needed was to have the cops called on me.

The receptionist returned shortly after and took my form, leaving me with an assurance that one of the doctors would see me sometime within the next couple of hours. I slumped down into the seat, leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes to let my thoughts drift away.

When I looked down at my watch, only twenty minutes had passed. I tapped my foot and folded my arms. Hopefully, the doctor would come sooner rather than later. After the first hour, my ass started to tingle, and I took to pacing about the small room until the numbness passed. Then I began a game of Solitaire on my phone. I’d never understood why some people played it until that point. The damned thing was so frustrating at times, and the more I was forced into a dead end with no moves to make, the more determined I was to finally win a game.

I was down to only five cards left unturned when a pair of feet came to stop in front of me. Tearing myself away from my first victory, I glanced up at a woman in a black skirt and red blouse. She wore a nametag on a blue lanyard, and held a clipboard by her side. Doctor Maria Collins. She smiled at me and motioned with one hand to the far door.

“Mr. Beckman? If you’d like to follow me to my office, please?”
I put my phone away and followed her through a set of locked doors, down a narrow corridor and into a square room with a desk at one side and a coffee table in the center, on which there was a jug of water and two glasses. Either side of the table was a black couch. We sat opposite each other, with Dr. Collins crossing her legs, and after a brief introduction, we started with the questions.
“So, tell me, Alex. Why do you feel you need to be committed?”
I slumped my shoulders and rested my forearms on my knees. “I want to stop myself from being able to hurt people.”
The doctor scribbled some notes on her notepad. “Have you hurt people before?”
I nodded.
“Who have you hurt? And in what way?”
“A guy at work. A woman I barely knew. Complete strangers. I, uh, cause them physical harm. Cuts mainly.”
“Hmmm,” she hummed. “Why do you think you do this?”
I shrugged. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Try me.”
“Well, I think there are two of me. In my head, I mean. All my life, I remember being Alex, but before that, I was someone else. Russell. His father abused him a lot after his mother died in a car accident.” I paused to glance up at the doctor. She stopped jotting down her notes and nodded for me to continue. If she was surprised by my proclamation, she didn’t show it, her face remaining blank.
“He ended up here because he reacted violently toward men. But then he got better, and I became Alex when I went to the orphanage. Does that make sense?” I asked, being aware of how ludicrous the whole thing probably sounded. Then again, the doctor was probably used to dealing with wild tales.
“I think I understand,” she replied. “But I’d like to hear more of your thoughts on the matter. What do you think happened during Russell’s treatments?”
“I only found out recently about what happened. The doctor couldn’t help Russell with the traumatic experiences he’d been through, so he attempted to make him forget and start again. I think he created me.”
This time when the doctor paused, her mouth was slightly open. “You mean to say that you believe this doctor was able to make you…um, Russell, believe he was a different person? And inadvertently may have compartmentalized the original personality?”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
“Fascinating. I’ve heard of such experiments being carried out before, but usually not outside of theories about top-secret government projects to create sleeper agents and spies.” Dr. Collins froze but regained her composure a moment later, sitting up straighter. “I’m sorry, I normally don’t start babbling like this during an evaluation. After all, the purpose of this session is for you to give the answers. It’s just that such cases are normally considered to be urban legends.”
“I can hardly believe it myself. I mean, I don’t actually remember ever harming anyone.”
“Then why do you believe it?” she asked. “Do you have any evidence to suggest that it is you harming other people?”
“Just recently it was captured on video. A man wearing my clothes attacked another man.”
“But from the video, it wasn’t clear who the attacker was?”
I raised one eyebrow at her question. “What makes you say that?”
“You referred to the attacker as ‘a man’. That makes me think you didn’t actually see who it was.”
I chuckled and shook my head. “You’re good. His face was hidden from the camera, but I recognized the clothes as being my own. I found the bloodstain on my jacket when I got back to my motel room, along with the knife that was used. And then there was something Vince said. My partner. He said I left the motel room that night, but I don’t even remember waking up.”
“I see. And what do you hope to gain from your stay here?”
“I only want to make sure I stop hurting people.”
Dr. Collins wrote down some more notes. “Okay. I think I’ve heard enough for now. We’ll move on to the next part of the evaluation.”
For what seemed like an eternity, we went through multiple choice questions, the kind that asked me to agree or disagree with the statements about me. Then Dr. Collins spent a good while analyzing the results while chewing on the end of her pen. She finally put her pen and notepad down on the table to look me in the eye.
“Okay, Alex. I must say that this is certainly an unusual case. From the personality test I conducted, you seem to be perfectly well adjusted. Perhaps a little stressed and with a few trust issues, but let’s be honest, these days that would describe almost everyone. However, I do have concerns about Russell. I’d like to keep you under observation and continue our discussion from earlier at a later date.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“I do need to make you aware that as you are voluntarily committing yourself to our care, you can request to leave at any time. However, we reserve the right to refuse your request if we believe you may be a danger to yourself or others. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
“Great. Come this way, and we’ll get you registered.”
I followed the doctor back toward the entrance, feeling as though a weight had lifted from my shoulders. It might not have been as good as getting the killer behind bars, but it was definitely the next best option that didn’t involve incarcerating myself.

“How can I help you, sir?” the young man behind the reception desk greeted me.
“Vincent Fairfield,” I replied. “I’m here to see a friend of mine, Alex Beckman.”
The man tapped at his keyboard, then looked up and smiled. “Go right on through,” he said, motioning to the doors on the left. They buzzed and clicked open, allowing me to leave the sweaty throng bustling about the waiting area behind.
Once inside, there was another desk with a nurse sat behind. “Oh, you’re back again. I forgot it’s the big day today. Bet you’re glad to be getting Alex out of here.”
I nodded and grinned from ear to ear. “Yeah, it’ll be nice to be able to see him without the visiting hours. Assuming the doc lets him go, that is.”
“I’m sure she will,” Nurse Joy replied. She’d been on the desk almost every time I came to visit. “Alex is a lovely young man. I can’t understand for the life of me why he’d want to be in here.”
“Well, we all have our dark sides. Some more than others.”
She nodded, then handed me a visitor’s badge. “I’d better let you go. Alex and Dr. Collins are waiting for you. Second door on the right.”
“Thanks,” I said, attaching the badge to the pocket of my jeans.
I knocked twice on the door before entering. Alex nearly jumped off the couch to greet me and wrapped his arms tight around my chest.
“Nice to see you too,” I said, giving him a quick pat on the back.
“I missed you.” Alex released his grip on me and pulled away so our eyes could meet. “This place is hell.” He turned his head to the doctor who sat with her legs crossed on the couch. “No offense.”
“None taken,” she said as she stood to extend her arm. I shook her hand, and we took up our seats on the couch. “Thank you for coming, Vince. Alex wanted you to be here for this.”
“Right. So what’s the verdict? Are you discharging him?”
Dr. Collins nodded. “It’s been almost four weeks since Alex came to us, and while it’s clear he may have some issues resulting from a lot of stress, I’ve found nothing to indicate that he would be a danger to himself, or anyone else.”
“But what about Russell?” Alex asked. “What if he comes back again? I can’t let him hurt anyone else.”
“Are you sure Russell really exists inside you?” The doctor paused for a moment, her expression blank as she watched Alex. “We’ve talked about this a few times now. Since you’ve been here, Russell has never once appeared.”
“Because he doesn’t want to be caught,” Alex snapped. “If he showed his face, then you’d have to believe me and keep me locked up. He doesn’t want that.”
“But what if the doctor’s right and it’s not you?” I asked him, taking his hand in mine. “There’s no sense keeping you here if it’s not needed.”
“But you saw the evidence, Vince,” he replied, turning his head away from me.
“I saw that someone had put a bloodied jacket and knife in your suitcase. That’s all. It doesn’t mean you were responsible. And the video didn’t show the guy’s face.”
“And what about when you said I’d left the motel room?”
I shrugged. “Maybe you just popped outside for some air. I don’t know. Maybe I even dreamed it up.”
Alex shook his head and withdrew his hand from my grasp. “No, it was me. I just know it.”
“Alex, you need to consider that maybe the reason you think you’re Russell is because this is the only way you could catch him,” Dr. Collins said. “You said yourself that you’d been trying for weeks to track him down with no luck, and that the investigation was placing a lot of stress on you.”
“But the attacks stopped when I came in,” he said.
“Yeah, they did,” I said. “But what if that’s only because he got what he wanted. He had his fun with you and moved on. The FBI left too. With no new attacks, they ran out of options to investigate, and the evidence against you was too circumstantial.”
Alex bit down on his lower lip and straightened up. “So what did he want? Why go to all the trouble of trying to frame me?”
I shrugged. “Maybe you were just another pawn in his game. An exit strategy. You were getting close, so he threw you a curveball and used the distraction to make a break for it.”
Alex furrowed his brow. “I dunno. Something just doesn’t feel right to me. Is it possible for a personality to just disappear once it’s no longer needed?”
Dr. Collins scratched at her temple. “Honestly, I don’t know. The research around dissociative identity disorder has always been controversial. There is very little we know about the condition, what causes it, and how to treat it. However, I suppose it is possible that if the cause of the identity split was to be resolved, that one personality could take complete control. Of course, this is just speculation.”
“But possible?” I asked.
“The human mind is an amazing thing. I believe many things are possible,” the doctor replied. “The long story short is that there is insufficient evidence to keep Alex here any longer. My recommendation would be to take time off work outside of a hospital environment and relax.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” I said. Alex opened his mouth to speak, but I pressed a finger to his lips. “Just listen. If it starts to happen again, then I’ll bring you straight back myself. Until then, you need to look at the facts. There’s not enough evidence to be sure. You can’t go locking yourself up without being certain. It’s not fair to you, or me.”
Alex took hold of my wrist and moved my hand away from his mouth. “I just wanted to make it stop. I never wanted to leave you.”
“So come back to me. We can get away from all this. Go somewhere new and start our life together.”
Alex nodded and smiled. “I’d like that.”
“Then can we go?” I asked, looking over at the doctor.
She nodded and pushed a form across the desk. “Discharge papers. I just need Alex to sign along the dotted line at the bottom and he’s free to go. If anything happens, feel free to call me.” She took a card from her pocket and handed it to me.
“Thank you,” I said and slipped the card into my wallet. “Promise you’ll be the first to know if there’s any change.”
I stood and held out my hand for Alex. He glanced up at me, and for a few moments, he didn’t move. Then he signed the papers, took my hand, and pushed himself to his feet. We said our goodbyes to Dr. Collins and the other staff, then took the form to the front desk to have Alex released. I handed him his car keys and climbed into the passenger side. He sat down in his seat and tilted his head back.
“Did you mean what you said about getting away?” he asked.
“Yeah. Why not?”
“Where would we go?”
“Anywhere we wanted,” I replied. “But it’s gotta have a beach and not be too cold.”
“California?” Alex suggested. “Your family lives there, don’t they?”
I snorted and folded my arms. “Yeah, but they’re dead to me.”
Alex started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. He stopped at the main road, waiting for a spot to open up in the traffic. “I know you don’t like talking about your family, but if you ever want to tell me what happened, I’m here for you.”
I didn’t answer because there was nothing more to say. My adopted parents were dead and had been for the last five years. They’d begged for mercy as I stabbed them repeatedly, one after the other, leaving their corpses like bloodied pincushions in a sticky pool of crimson that soaked into the carpet. That was their lesson for trying to stop me from finding my biological father. After that, I ran away to Florida and never looked back.