Cellar Door (20 page)

His Deception

Knowing there are security cameras in the hospital parking garage just adds to my excitement. Killing has become a drug to me. The fact that I’m deceiving people who think they’re better than me makes it even more intoxicating. By the time I’m finished with the twins they’ll be going for each other’s throats while I sit back and watch. It’s going to be so gratifying knowing I’m the cause of it all.

I park close to the good doctor’s reserved parking space. As much as I don’t want to draw attention to myself, I don’t have much of a choice with all the security cameras around. With my baseball cap under my gray hoodie and some seriously big sunglasses, I look like the fuckin’ Unabomber.

I am well concealed by Louisville’s pre-dawn twilight, but I must work quickly. I shove my hands in my pockets and walk with my head down toward the lobby of the hospital, looking for a wheelchair. I take it as a good omen that one has been abandoned just outside the lobby entrance. I slip on my gloves and casually push the wheelchair back to my van, which I parked next to the doctor’s reserved space. After I set the brake, I take a surreptitious look around before heaving the body from the back of my van. Getting this guy to sit upright in the chair is a challenge but I finally manage it.

Now, to pose him. “Hear…no…evil…” I giggle as I tilt his head back and press his hands to his ears. The screwdriver is still protruding from his ear, so I position that hand carefully so that it extends between his fingers. Luckily, my timing is perfect and he’s just starting to stiffen up. His limbs are still pliable enough to move around, but stiff enough to hold what turns out to be a spectacular pose for whoever finds him.

I waste no time backing up and getting the hell out of there. I return to the place where I feel safest: home. The Riddler’s house. I have an exciting day planned, monitoring the local media outlets for breaking news reports about the dead guy who was found illegally parked in the hospital garage.

And that reporter is going to present me to my public properly by announcing my name, I can just feel it. After all, tonight…it’s all about me.

Madonna

I sneak a glance at Liam as he pulls up his brother’s history on the Urban Elite blog. He is an impressive sight first thing in the morning, sipping his morning coffee, his hair a tousled mess. But his blue eyes that are usually so much like my own have an arctic, distant quality today. His strong, sturdy jaw line is a testament to a man who knows what he wants and how to get it. His lips are set in a straight line and I wonder if he ever smiles. Five o’clock shadow only adds to his good looks.

“You’re staring, Madonna. Do you like what you see?”

I can feel the heat wash over my cheeks but I don’t let it stop me from being candid.

“You’re a handsome man. I’m sure you don’t have any problems getting a woman so why did you resort to kidnapping?”

“I think you should be asking yourself why being taken by me keeps your pussy so wet.” He doesn’t give me time to answer, which is fine by me because what the fuck am I supposed to say to that kind of comment? He continues without missing a beat, “You might want to do some soul searching and come to terms with your own sexuality before you question mine or anyone else’s, for that matter.”

I force myself to meet his icy gaze—the same one I bet he uses when putting a nurse in her place.

“Yes, Liam, I freely admit that my body responds to the things you do to me. I’m a big girl, I can deal with that. I’m not accusing you of anything; I’m just asking why…”

“Baby…we were born this way,” he drawls. A wide smile spreads across his face and puts a twinkle in his eyes. I’m pleased to be the one who put it there. In fact, it gives me an idea for a journal entry…

Liam

I study the face of this woman who somehow has the ability to make me smile. Before I can stop myself, the words are out of my mouth, “You’re mine now. I’m never letting you go.”

“I don’t want to leave, Liam. Trust me, nobody’s more surprised than I am. I do, however, want to solve this crime and put this crazy asshole behind bars.”

“The best way to do that is to delve into my brother’s psyche. You need to be prepared for anything when you meet him. You should also be aware that I don’t like taking you to visit him. He can spot weakness a mile away, so he’ll use my feelings for you against me.”

“What feelings would those be?”

I turn in my chair toward her and cross my legs, resting an ankle on the opposite knee as I reply, “Ownership. Possession. The need to protect you at all costs.”

“I think that’s how you’ve pulled me in, Liam. No one’s ever wanted me. Not really. Growing up in an orphanage and yet seeing the other kids in school with their parents only reminded me that my family never wanted me.

“I’ll never understand it, how anyone can walk away from their flesh and blood. But as you can see, I’m not running away from you with my hair on fire. My only explanation is that you refuse to let me go when everyone else refuses to have me in their lives. It’s fucked up but…I need what you give me.”

“Well…I damn sure need what you give me, girl.” I wait until her eyes go soft at the sentiment, then continue blandly, “Every time I look at you I want to chain your ass to the wall and fuck you until you can’t walk.” I laugh when I see her eyes go wide.

“You have a room with chains on the wall?” she sputters incredulously.

“Yes, ma’am, I do and I have every intention of showing it to you.” The steady look I’m giving her causes her to look away and I change the subject back to my sociopath of a brother.

“Lance is going to flirt with you to piss me off. He’ll flatter you and in the same sentence demean you.

“Give me an example.”

“‘Your necklace is lovely, my grandmother had one just like it.’”

“Ha!” I laugh, “So he could be telling me he likes the necklace and then in the next breath say my taste is
old fashioned
.”

“Exactly. Subconsciously it’ll make you want to please him, which puts him in control.”

“Is that what all this is about, then? Control?”

“It’s like Oscar Wilde said: ‘
Everything in the world is about sex, except sex. Sex is about power’.
This is a man who has been stripped of his power, so he’ll take someone else’s if he can; especially if it concerns me.”

“Why does he hate you so much?” I ask as I shake my head, bewildered at the actions of this man whose madness continues to shape his life.

“In his mind, my mother chose me over him. She kept me and gave him up for adoption in what was probably a completely random decision. However, it’s understandable that he took it personally. You of all people should understand how deep that kind of rejection goes. Mark my words, as soon as he finds out that you grew up in an orphanage, he’ll use that information to forge a connection with you.”

“That’s why I have you, Liam…to help me decipher the mind of a sociopath.”

“Well, I’m damn sure tightening my hold over you now. You’d do well to remember that. If we’re going to do this, I’m going to have to trust you. Don’t do anything to make us both regret it.”

His Reality

I’m in front of my flat screen TV, patiently waiting for that perky reporter, Stacy Halsey, to deliver the shocking news to the Louisville community that a killer is once again walking among them. Mass hysteria is about to settle over the city. No one will know for sure, but they’ll all have their suspicions. Some will even turn on each other because they won’t know who to trust, only that the killer could be a friend, a neighbor, or the coworker sitting in the cubicle next to them.

I sit up and take notice when the “Breaking News” alert appears on the screen. And there she is, standing at the entrance to the hospital’s parking garage. Goosebumps rise on my forearms when Ms. Halsey begins her report:

‘A maintenance worker arriving for work this morning became concerned when she saw what at first appeared to be a patient in a wheelchair positioned in a reserved employee parking space. When she approached to offer assistance, she made a grisly discovery: the man was deceased and had suffered a particularly gruesome death at the hands of an unknown assailant. A screwdriver had been being forced through an ear, piercing the man’s brain.

‘In a bizarre twist, the wheelchair was positioned in the reserved parking space of Dr. Liam Sheldon Chambers, a local orthopedic surgeon who was in the news several years ago. Viewers will recall that Dr. Chambers’ long lost twin brother was found to be the serial killer the media dubbed The Riddler.

‘Earlier this month, I reported that a woman’s mutilated body had been dumped in an alley behind the Urban Elite building in downtown Louisville. The victim’s eyes had been plucked out. According to police, if these killings prove to be connected, the killer is establishing a pattern of grisly mutilations that follow the ancient Japanese proverb known as The Three Wise Monkeys: See no evil; Hear no evil; Speak no evil.

‘Police are referring to this victim’s assailant as the Kikazaru Killer because a note was left on the body stating as much. Was Kikazaru sending a message to Dr. Chambers? If so, what’s next?

‘If these gruesome murders are indeed connected, then it’s two down and one to go: Speak No Evil. Police tonight have more questions than answers but one thing is certain: the city of Louisville may have a serial killer on its hands…again. Police are advising citizens to avoid being out after dark and to never go out alone.’

Elation roars through me as the reporter interviews the woman who found the body:

‘
Ma’am, how did you feel when you realized the man was deceased?’

‘Horrified, absolutely terrified. Why, was afraid the killer was still around and was going to come after me.’

‘It must have been awful. What did you do?’

‘Well…I didn’t want to leave the body but I decided the best thing to do was to call 911. A police officer happened to be parked in front of the hospital and was here right away. I was relieved he got here so fast.’

‘Yes, I can only imagine. Thank you so much for telling us about your harrowing experience. This is Stacy Halsey, reporting live from downtown Louisville.’

The woman’s only reply is a goofy smile as she stares at the camera like she’s mesmerized by the blinking red light. She’ll have her fifteen minutes of fame, but me? I’ll live on forever as a serial killer.

The
Riddler
has
to take me seriously now. I’m no longer his student, his copycat. I’m my own man. He’s behind bars wishing he could be me. Finally, the tables are turned and I’m the one in control.