“I apologize for that. I have no excuse. How has retirement been treating you?”
“I’m busier than I’ve ever been. I should go back to work just so I can get some rest.”
“I’ve heard a lot of people say that.”
“You have to keep yourself busy, otherwise you’ll waste away,” Woods said.
“What are you working on now?”
“Putting together a playset for the grandkids. Denise thought it would give them something to do when they come to visit. You wouldn’t believe the size of this thing. I’ve never seen so many pieces in my life and the instructions are in Chinese, if you can believe that.”
“I’m sure if you could translate them it would say, ‘Easy to assemble.’”
“Of course. Not to sound too forward, but are you calling for the reason I think you are?”
“You’ve heard? I thought they’d done a good job of hiding the details from the media,” Penfield said.
“I’ve still got some connections on the force. They keep me in the loop on the big cases. Are you involved? I thought you were out of the game.”
“I am for the most part. Doug McMahon brought me back in to talk to an old friend of ours.”
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call him that. Neither of us could be friends with a monster like that.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Penfield paused a moment.
Then he continued, “I saw him yesterday.”
“At Central State?”
“Yes. The FBI thinks this is a copycat killer since there are so many similarities to the first case.”
“And McMahon thinks Marcus knows who’s doing this new one?” Woods asked.
“Yes, and he asked me to speak with Marcus, hoping I could get him to talk.”
“Did you?”
“I did.”
“What did he say?”
“A bunch of nonsense about Angela. He said the killings would continue until the FBI brought her to him.”
“He doesn’t know she’s gone?”
“He does now. I told him, but he might not believe me,” Penfield said.
“Are you calling me to let me know that you saw him, or do you think I can help somehow?”
“Sorry if this seems like a weird question, but when you were partners with Marcus, did you ever tell him about me?”
“What do you mean?”
“I know you were there with my father when I was found. Did you ever tell Marcus about that day?”
“No. It wasn’t something your father liked people talking about. I respected his privacy and yours.”
“I know you did and I’m not accusing you of anything. But maybe the topic came up sometime. Maybe Marcus asked you about it.”
“I would remember that. It didn’t happen.”
“There were two other cops with you and Dad. Maybe it was one of them. People like to gossip,” Penfield said.
“That’s true. They might have said something, but I doubt it. Your dad made it pretty clear that it wasn’t something to be discussed. And you knew your dad. He would have kicked all of our asses.”
Penfield laughed.
“Yes, he would have. God knows he kicked mine enough.”
“You probably deserved it.”
“I probably did.”
“Why are you bringing this up?” Woods asked.
“When I saw Marcus, he said some things about that day, the day when Atwater took you guys into the swamp.”
“What did he say?”
“He said the same exact words my father said to me after you guys found me.”
“How do you know? You were unconscious.”
“I remember. Don’t ask me how, but I remember.”
“I was kneeling on the ground beside your father when we pried that lid off the box, and I don’t even remember exactly what he said. It was so frantic. We didn’t know if you were alive or dead and then there was that Atwater guy. We all thought he was guilty. We’d frisked him before starting out that morning on the boats, but I still thought he had some trick up his sleeve, maybe a weapon he’d planted near the site where you were buried.”
“You guys were on edge. I get it, but Marcus somehow knew what was said.”
“No offense, kid, but I think you’re reading way too much into this. Marcus was trying to get under your skin, and it sounds like he did. Do yourself a favor and forget it.”
Penfield said nothing.
“There’s another explanation and you’ve probably thought of it,” Woods continued. “That case got a ton of publicity. You weren’t the only child taken, but you were the only one found. It wouldn’t be that hard for Marcus to have discovered that information.”
“I understand, but he would have had to do that before the MAI case got started. There would be no reason for him to go through that trouble then. We weren’t rivals. It wasn’t like he was trying to get dirt on me for something.”
“That you know of. You have to admit that neither of us knew Marcus like we thought we did.”
“When was the last time that you spoke with him?” Penfield asked.
“In the early stages of the MAI investigation. He phoned me to talk about the case. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about that conversation. I heard he was ultimately diagnosed with multiple personality disorder or something like that. So, did he know what he was doing when he called me or was it all a bunch of bullshit?”
“If it was bullshit, then what purpose did it serve? You weren’t on the case. There was no reason to mislead you.”
“I know and I’ve thought of that before. Marcus is a disturbed guy, to put it lightly. Did something happen to him right before the killings started? Or was he always that way and we couldn’t see it?”
Penfield didn’t respond. It was a good question, one that he’d asked himself several times. He didn’t know what made someone hurt an innocent. There were certainly motives in most cases. Jealousy. Hatred. Money. Those reasons didn’t justify the crimes, but they gave them a reason that one could process. That hadn’t been the situation with Marcus’ crimes. Penfield couldn’t understand what made Marcus seek out complete strangers to end their lives.
“I hope you guys catch a break when you see Marcus again,” Woods continued. “Do me a favor, though, and don’t tell me what he said. I don’t want to know.”
“I understand. Thanks for your time. And good luck with that playset.”
“Thanks. I’m going to need it.”
Penfield ended the call. He’d dragged Woods into this nightmare and had nothing to show for it. He still couldn’t comprehend how Marcus knew his father’s words. Of course, Woods and Drennan might have been right. Penfield might have simply imagined those words himself. They’d been spoken decades ago.
There was also the voice Marcus had spoken in. Penfield knew he hadn’t imagined what his father’s voice had sounded like. He knew it as well as he knew his own. Furthermore, Noah Penfield had quit the force before Marcus had joined. As far as Penfield knew, the two men had never met.
The more he thought about it, the more he realized there was simply no way to explain what had happened at Central State. There was one more road Penfield could take. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to go there.
14
The Shadow on the Wall – Part 1
Penfield stared out the window of his car at the Central State building in Petersburg. He’d received the phone call from McMahon a few days earlier regarding the discovery of the murdered suspect in his Baltimore apartment, which had seemingly put the agents back to square one.
From Penfield’s perspective, there were only two possibilities, which had also been McMahon’s conclusion. Maxwell Davison’s death was a coincidence, which Penfield rarely believed in, or this was another discrepancy in the two MAI investigations.
Marcus Carter had sexually been with all of the prostitutes he’d killed. He’d never followed one to a rendezvous with another client, only to
murder that man and then abduct the woman. Furthermore, Penfield didn’t understand why this new MAI killer hadn’t taken the man’s face. Perhaps he’d intended to, but something had gotten in the way.
Still, it would have made more strategic sense to allow Lily King to leave the apartment and then grab her on her way home. If that was the case, then who had killed the minor drug dealer? It wouldn’t be the first time drugs had led to a murder.
These discrepancies in the two investigations also added up to another conclusion. It made both Penfield and McMahon doubt how much, if anything, Marcus Carter knew about these new killings.
Despite their lingering doubt, Marcus was the only avenue the FBI had at that moment. The forensics evidence at the three crime scenes had led nowhere and the team was essentially at a standstill. They needed a break, one that hopefully didn’t come in the form of another faceless body.
Penfield heard a vehicle approaching. He turned and saw McMahon’s SUV pull into the parking lot. Penfield climbed out of his car a moment later and walked over to McMahon. The two old friends greeted each other and then made their way into the facility.
Unlike his first visit to Central State, Penfield found Dr. Adina Mata waiting for them in the lobby. Penfield noticed her look of confidence was gone. She didn’t appear shaken, but something had happened.
“Good morning, Dr Mata,” McMahon said.
“Agent McMahon, Mr. Penfield, would you follow me to my office?” she asked, dismissing the customary small talk.
“Of course,” McMahon said.
They were silent for the short walk down the hallway. When they arrived at her office, Dr. Mata stood to the side to allow Penfield and McMahon to enter first. She followed them inside and shut the door behind her.
Penfield exchanged a look with McMahon as Dr. Mata walked to the other side of her desk and sat in the large leather chair. Penfield knew that McMahon had picked up on the same sense of unease.
“Last night one of our orderlies discovered something in Marcus Carter’s cell,” Dr. Mata continued. “He bit the tip of his finger off and wrote something on the walls.”
Dr. Mata rotated the computer monitor on her desk so that Penfield and McMahon could see the digital photograph on the display. The name “Angela” was written dozens of times in blood. It covered all four walls of the cell, from the floor to the ceiling.
“There’s something else,” Dr. Mata said. “This morning Marcus started talking again. Perhaps I should clarify. He was screaming, ‘Bring me Angela,’ over and over again.”
“Did he say anything else?” McMahon asked.
“No, just that, but it lasted for hours. He didn’t stop until shortly before you arrived. I would say maybe twenty minutes ago,” Dr. Mata said.
“That’s about the time I pulled into the parking lot. Did you tell him I was here?” Penfield asked.
“No,” Dr. Mata said.
“Is this morning the first time he’s spoken since Mr. Penfield’s previous visit?” McMahon asked.
“Yes, Marcus withdrew into himself again after Mr. Penfield’s initial meeting. It was as if it never happened,” Dr. Mata said.
“How do you explain that?” McMahon asked.
“Marcus can speak whenever he wants. He simply chooses not to, with the exception of his encounter with Mr. Penfield,” Dr. Mata said, and she turned to Penfield. “He has a connection to you, which you already know.”
“Would my presence in the room interfere with that?” McMahon asked.
“It’s possible,” Dr. Mata said. “But I have no way of predicting his behavior. He may stay silent again, even if you weren’t in there.”
Penfield thought McMahon would ask him if he had an issue with doing the interview alone. He didn’t.
“When can we see him?” McMahon asked.
“I’ve already had him moved to the room. We can go as soon as you’re ready.”
“Then let’s get to it,” McMahon said.
Dr. Mata stood and she led Penfield and McMahon back to the interview room. They studied Marcus for a moment through the one-way mirror. Both of his wrists were secured to the table, as they had been before. His head was slumped forward so that his chin rested on his chest. It looked like he was sleeping.
McMahon turned to Penfield.
“Are you ready?”
Penfield nodded and they entered the room. There were two chairs on the opposite side of the table from Marcus. McMahon took one while Penfield remained standing. He walked across the room and stood near the window.
McMahon waited a few moments. Penfield assumed it was to see if Marcus would look up, but he completely ignored McMahon.
“Mr. Carter, as a reminder, my name is Agent Doug McMahon with the FBI. We crossed paths briefly in the police department. It was years ago. I came here today to discuss these new killings. You told Mr. Penfield that you know about them. Would you care to elaborate on that?”
Marcus didn’t respond.
“One of the missing women has been found,” McMahon continued. “So, you got the count wrong. Perhaps we’re wasting our time here. Maybe you don’t know anything about this.”
Penfield knew that McMahon was trying to get Marcus angry to throw him off balance. He didn’t think the tactic would work, but this was McMahon’s show, not his. There was something else, though. Marcus hadn’t gotten the count wrong. The dead man in Baltimore made the number of victims seven, which was the same number Marcus had given in their first meeting. Penfield didn’t know if McMahon had dismissed that murder as not belonging to the MAI killer or if he was simply trying to agitate Marcus.
McMahon threw question after question at Marcus for the next ten minutes. Nothing made a difference. Finally, Marcus looked up at McMahon during a brief break in McMahon’s questioning.
“Leave. I have no interest in talking to you.”
“This is my case, Mr. Carter.”
“It’s not your case, though, is it? It’s my case. I’m the one with the power, not you. You’re at a wall, Agent McMahon, a point of desperation. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here,” Marcus said.
Penfield studied McMahon. He kept his cool, not taking Marcus’ bait. Then he did something that surprised Penfield. McMahon stood and left the room, but not before giving a final glance at Penfield.
Penfield took his cue and walked over to the table, but he didn’t sit down.
“Did you bring her to me?” Marcus asked, and he looked up at Penfield.
Penfield didn’t immediately respond. He studied Marcus. Unlike during their first meeting, Marcus had just used his real voice.
Finally, Penfield spoke.
“How do you expect me to bring you someone who died almost a decade ago?”
“Oh, Alex, why do you always deny what you know in your gut to be true?”
“No theatrics this time? You’ve decided to use your own voice?” Penfield asked.
“It’s not here now, but it may come back. I suggest we not waste any time.”
“Who’s not here?”
“What did Dr. Bachman tell you?”
“Dr. Bachman?”
“Come now. I told you not to waste time. I don’t know how long I have. I know what kind of detective you are. You would have insisted on talking to the man who diagnosed me before you came here the first time. What did Bachman say to you? I know he saw it.”
“Stop talking in riddles. What do you think Dr. Bachman saw?” Penfield asked.
“The darkness. It took me…” Marcus said, and his words trailed off. “It took me the day I found my grandfather dead at his home. It was waiting for me, standing in the darkness like a shadow on the wall.”
Penfield sat opposite Marcus.
“A shadow? Is that how you see it, some dark side of you that committed those crimes?” Penfield asked.
“I’m not insane. This isn’t some psychological disorder. It did those things. You think I would kill all those people?”
“This shadow, was it a
person you were working with before?”
“It’s not human, but you already know that. You felt it when you walked in here that first day. That coldness in the air, that tightness in your chest like you couldn’t breathe. Don’t ignore the truth of your feelings.”
“What is it if it’s not human?”
“I just told you. It’s the darkness. It takes their faces as a form of disguise, a mask to hide behind. It tries to conceal its true self with the faces of the innocent. But they aren’t innocent. They aren’t of the light.”
“They were innocent, Marcus. They didn’t deserve what you did to them.”
“I didn’t commit those murders. I hunted it. You know that. You were with me. You know I could never do those crimes. It did those things, not me,” Marcus said.
“What is its name?”
“You know what it is. Don’t make me say it.”
Penfield looked at the bandage around one of Marcus’ fingers.
“Why did you do that to yourself?”
“Aren’t you listening? It made me,” Marcus said, and his voice became more agitated and urgent.
“Why does it want Angela?”
Marcus looked away.
“I don’t know. It just does,” he said.
“Then you need to tell it that it’s ten years too late. I don’t know how many different ways I can say the same thing. Angela is dead. She took her own life because she couldn’t deal with the things that you did. She loved you, and you destroyed everything.”
Penfield watched as tears formed in Marcus’ eyes.
Marcus turned back to Penfield.
“I can’t take back those things, but you knew her. She wouldn’t have killed herself. She’s still alive. Find her. Bring her here and the killings will stop.”
“Who is doing these new murders? You know who it is. Help us stop them. I know you don’t want these things to happen.”
“I can’t stop it. It won’t let me.”
“Do you know what I think? I think this little act of yours is all bullshit. You may have fooled the doctors, but you’re right about one thing. I do know you. You’re a brilliant man and this is all a game to you. You won’t give me a name because you can’t. You have no idea who’s committing these crimes because you’re living in a cage.”
Nature of Darkness Page 11
