Killer Genius

by David Archer

  Sam didn't have anything to say to that, so he simply bowed his head and got back to work, praying the newcomer would have both the wisdom and the guts to go to bat for them.

  If she doesn't… we're going to burn out very, very soon.

  * * *

  Summer smiled as Eric darted back and fourth between the bedroom displays, little giggles escaping him as he rushed gleefully through Bed, Bath, and Beyond without apparent rhyme or reason.

  Jade stopped the cart at the first display bed, as it appeared Eric intended to stay in that section for a while, and leaned over. "Has it occurred to you this might not have been the best idea?"

  "Yeah. I got that, Jade. I got that. Thanks." Summer smiled, cheerful despite her sarcastic words, and jogged ahead.

  "There's so many colors!" Eric ground to a halt in front of a red, orange, and yellow bedspread. "I thought they only made colorful beds for kids. This is so cool; it looks like spray paint!"

  Summer chuckled and looked at the price tag. "Is this what you w—"

  "Look at that one! There are so many flowers! Ooh, plaid. There's a lot of plaid. Ooh!" Eric reached back and frantically grabbed Summer's hand. "Ooh…" He pulled her along, weaving in between the beds until he came to a red, white, and blue bed set on display.

  Eric looked at Summer with wide, sparkling eyes. "Ooh."

  Summer smiled, briefly thinking it was very patriotic, but the sponged, watercolor texture took some of that away. Not that it mattered. She would enthusiastically encourage whatever Eric chose as long as it was what he truly wanted. "Is this your favorite?"

  Eric nodded and pressed his hands into the mattress, a wide smile on his face. "And can we—can we get orange sheets, too? Blue, red, and orange? Can that be my room? My theme? For my room, I mean? My room theme? Can it? Please?"

  Summer nodded, unable to keep the smile from her face. "Of course, Eric. That sounds like a good color scheme." It was a fairly uncommon one, and she wasn't sure how it would look all put together, but she didn't care. "It's unique. You could start a trend. Are you going to want extra blankets?"

  Eric gaped at her. "Is that allowed?"

  Summer chuckled and grabbed a packaged bedspread from the foot of the display bed. Then she turned the tables on Eric and took him by the hand, pulling him back to the center aisle.

  "Hey," Jade commented when Summer put the blanket in the cart. "You found something you like."

  Eric smiled and opened his mouth to speak, but Summer pulled him away before he could, taking him just a few more steps until they stood in front of a large wall of microfiber blankets.

  "He's going to pick out some extra blankets," Summer explained over her shoulder.

  Jade pushed the cart a little closer and then joined them, softly rubbing a selection of dark purple fabric. "Do soft things help to relieve your anxiety, Eric?"

  Eric shifted where he stood. "I… I don't know." He reached out and ran his fingers over an orange one. "I know I really like soft things. Do you… I mean, have you heard it helps?"

  Jade shrugged her shoulders a bit. "I struggled with some anxiety in high school and college." She reached over to rub a pink blanket. "My room was always full of soft things." She opened her mouth like she was going to say more, but then she stopped.

  "Did they help?" Eric asked softly. "I know they make me feel happy. Is it like that?"

  "Kind of, yeah. I…" Jade pulled a pink blanket off the shelf and turned it over in her hands, struggling with her words for a moment. "I was more comfortable sleeping on the floor in a pile of soft things than sleeping on a soft mattress with cotton sheets. Does that make sense?"

  Eric nodded a few times, grabbing the purple one Jade had been looking at earlier. "Yeah, it makes perfect sense. There are different kinds of soft." He pressed his face against the bundle and smiled. "How'm I gonna pick just one?"

  Summer frowned a bit. "Eric, you can buy as many as you want." She retracted the statement almost immediately, holding up her hand. "Actually, how about you start with three, and we'll add to the collection as we go."

  Unsurprisingly, Eric was quick to grab a red and orange patterned blanket as well as a blue one. He put both in the cart along with the purple one he had been holding.

  "I like purple, too," he explained, giving Jade a flash of a smile.

  Jade chuckled softly and put the pink one in as well. "You picked great colors." She gave him a playful nudge. "But the pink one is mine, so hands off."

  Eric giggled to himself. "Yes, ma'am." He giggled again and looked over at Summer. "What are we going to do now?"

  "Well, we need to get you some curtains, and we'll look at some of the wall art and pictures, too." Summer gave him a warm smile. "We want you to personalize it a little bit, you know?"

  "Can I—" Eric cut himself off, looking down at his anxiously twisting feet. "Um, I was thinking… I'm… I'm going to have paperwork to do, and I thought… I thought it would be cool if I had my own little desk… and like, like, like a filing cabinet? And those little desk organizers with the tiny slots and drawers and, and those little toys—like the birds that bob up and down and drink the water?" He slowly raised his head, biting down on his lip and looking at Summer with hopeful eyes. "I know it can fit in my room. I measured. So… so, could I… could I have my own desk?"

  Summer muscled through the stabbing pain in her chest and nodded, a smile ever-present on her lips. "Yes, absolutely."

  Eric brightened up immediately, his entire demeanor emanating sheer happiness, and he bounded away. He had, apparently, located the office section earlier and had simply been working up the courage to ask permission to go there.

  Jade chuckled softly and followed along, shaking her head at the display.

  Summer followed behind Jade, smiling to herself, but with a bit more sadness in it.

  Eric had been so, so afraid to ask for a desk of his own, and he probably thought the permission was based only on his request. He didn't understand they were already planning on giving him a work space in his bedroom—they had talked about it less than twenty-four hours earlier—and it appeared Eric didn't yet see himself as part of the team.

  Well, she knew he didn't. Going by the still forbidden act of speaking his real name, Eric had made his feelings about his relationship with the team painfully apparent. Still, he didn't seem to think they were against him. He had opened up to Sam and Summer several times, he spent most nights with Darren but had requested more than once to stay with Denny, and he had entrusted Jade with his self-evaluation.

  But Eric didn't think he was their equal. It was like he saw himself as a beloved family pet. Or perhaps he felt like a child—loved unconditionally but monitored and controlled and far too often treated like less than a person.

  It's a process, she reminded herself. He's never been treated like an adult before. He hasn't been respected or trusted in five years. It's going to take time for him to understand, and as long as he isn't hurting himself, we can't be overwhelming him with all these new concepts.

  It might have sent a knife through Summer's heart when Eric asked for permission for the smallest things, but it didn't hurt him at all. It came naturally, and when he was already so overwhelmed and afraid, taking away what little of the world he did understand would be cruel.

  To do so just because it caused her pain would be cruel and selfish.

  And Summer knew she had flaws—everyone did—but she was not selfish. She would never intentionally hurt Eric. More than that, she would do everything in her power to make sure such unintentional errors were never made.

  'I didn't mean to,' was not a phrase in Summer's vocabulary. She knew more than anyone how impactful the slightest change in tone or terminology could be. She knew the kind of effect a simple gesture like a hug or making a cup of hot tea could have on a broken person.

  "Ms. Raines! Ms. Raines! Look, look, look!"

  Summer pulled herself from her thoughts with a smile. "I'm here, you can show me."


  I'm always here, Eric.

  * * *

  Sam may have been the one to say Eric was ready for the field, but that didn't stop him from doubting himself. Thankfully, it only took another couple of days to get a potential case, and they had been no more than twelve minutes into reviewing it when Eric blew all doubts out of the water.

  Sam could still picture how excited Eric had become when they were contracted by the Tulsa police department. He had leaned forward in his chair, eyes focused, and suddenly he was all business.

  "We identify serial killers based on patterns in behavior," Eric had argued. "Detective Paulsen in Tulsa has been following reports that homeless people are going missing, and he’s established a pattern. Most of the ones who have gone missing, according to his report, have been women, but there have been a few children who disappeared, as well. Homeless people tend to get ignored, because most people consider them a drain on society and its resources, anyway. I’m almost surprised that Detective Paulsen even opened his investigation, and I’m even more surprised that the city government agreed to hire Windlass to come check it out."

  Eric took a breath, and then continued. "According to Paulsen, at least two dozen homeless people have vanished, and none of the people who knew them on the street have any idea what happened to them. Homeless people don’t usually have a lot of friends, but they do tend to form cliques, small communities that often help each other out. The people who have disappeared were mostly regular fixtures in the area, so the others in those neighborhoods noticed them missing. Since these little communities are all dependent on each other, it’s a bad sign when one of them disappears and nobody knows what happened."

  “I agree with him,” Darren said. “For these people to disappear this way, something is happening to them. If it was only one or two, then it might be just coincidence, but with the numbers the detective’s reporting, I have to believe that outlay is involved.”

  “Yes,” Sam said, “I don’t think there’s much doubt of that. Ron says to get on this as soon as we can, so I suppose we need to head out. Jenna has arranged a flight already, so we leave in an hour.”

  “We?” Eric asked. “I’m going with you again?”

  Sam smiled at him. “I think you’ll be more help with us than waiting back here,” he said. “Your insight has become invaluable, Eric, which is one of the reasons we wanted to keep you with us, anyway. All I’m going to ask is that you be on your best behavior during this trip. Can you do that?”

  “Oh, yes, sir,” Eric said, his face beaming. “I absolutely will.”

  Things had improved in the days since Eric began seeing Dr. Raymonds, but he was still somewhat unpredictable at times, and Sam felt that taking him along might help. Leaving him behind would mean having to leave Summer or Denny to watch over him, and Sam preferred to have the whole team working together on a case.

  * * *

  "Mr. Prichard, are we there yet?"

  Sam looked up from his schedule—his color-coded, soccer dad schedule—and looked across the aisle to Eric's side of the jet. "It shouldn't be too long."

  Eric nodded and pressed his face against the glass, letting out a heavy sigh.

  Sam raised an eyebrow a bit. "Eric? You okay?"

  "Yeah. Just tired."

  Sam looked at Eric, but he didn't offer medication. He had decided to never offer the Dexedrine so he could get a more accurate idea of how often Eric wanted it. So far, Sam hadn't gotten the idea Eric was severely addicted in any way, which made him feel much better about agreeing when he asked for it.

  "Mr. Prichard…?"

  Sam looked at him, ready for the question. "Yes?"

  "Can I…" Eric fidgeted in his seat. "Do you… do you really believe I can do this? That I can… get better?"

  Sam hadn't been expecting that, but he put down the notes he was reading and focused on the boy. "I don't believe that, Eric. I know it. I don’t have any doubts at all."

  "Really?"

  "Really." Sam smiled at him. "I know it because I’m getting to know you. It's not a matter of if; it's a matter of when."

  Eric looked away, gluing his eyes to the window and shifting in his seat. "Okay. I'll try… I'll try to stay awake. I think maybe I can."

  Sam rested an arm on the table and continued to look at Eric, despite the lack of reciprocation. "Eric, be honest. Do you need Dexedrine?"

  Eric shrugged. "I don't know. I want to try without, but I'm scared."

  "Would you like a cup of coffee? Or an energy drink?" Sam caught the way Eric shrank in on himself. "Is that what you're afraid of, Eric?"

  Eric bit down on his lip. "If I use a drink and it isn't enough, I won't be able to take Dexedrine, either. I'll be stuck. I don't wanna be stuck, Mr. Prichard." His voice had dissolved into a whine by the end.

  Sam took a couple moments to think things through, and then he licked his lips and tried to find a gentle way to say, 'that's life, buddy.'

  "Eric… there are going to be bad days." Sam shook his head a bit. "We can't avoid that no matter what we do. I think you should try to drink something. I think having one bad day is worth it if it can help us figure out how to fight the fatigue without sending you into a panic, but I'm not you. I don't know how it feels to be where you are."

  Eric chewed on his lips some more. "It would be nice… not to have to choose between feeling nothing and feeling everything. If I… if I try the drink, and it doesn't work… what happens?"Sam cocked his head to the side and looked at him. "I don't know what you mean."

  Eric shrugged. "What… what should I do? If it doesn't work?"

  "Eric, look at me." Sam spoke softly as he suddenly caught on.

  Eric slowly turned his head, uncertainty clear in his eyes.

  "If an energy drink doesn't work, what you do is come right to me, and we will find a way to get through it together."

  "But what if you're busy? What if—"

  "You come to me anyway. You can always, always come to me. If you can't find me for some reason, you go to Summer, or Denny, or any other member of the team." Sam leaned over a little, seeking further eye contact. "Okay? You’re one of us now, so we’re here for you. We will help you through this."

  Eric stared back for a moment, and then he smiled with a nearly whispered, "Okay."

  Sam smiled in return. "Good."

  Sam leaned back and started to turn back to his notes, but he changed his mind and looked at Eric instead. "Do you want to try an energy drink when we land, or do you want Dexedrine?"

  FOURTEEN

  Eric considered it for half a moment. "I'll… I'll try a drink."

  Sam smiled. "I thought so, but I didn't want to take it for granted. I think that might be a good idea, though."

  Eric curled in on himself a little bit, a sheepish smile pulling at his lips. "Thanks, Mr. Prichard. I… just thanks."

  "You're welcome, Eric."

  Sam waited until Eric looked out the window again, and then he got back to his list of to-dos. He pulled a stack of case summaries out of his bag and stared at them blankly. I was going somewhere with this… He was exhausted. I had an idea. I had a thought.

  He scanned the page, eyes flickering from word to word until the abandoned train of thought was recovered. Indie. I was about to call Indie, because I saw something earlier.

  Sam sighed and pulled his phone from his pocket, flipping it open. He dialed quickly and waited for a few rings, and then Indie answered.

  "Yeah?" her voice came through a bit crackly.

  "Hey, I need you to look into something for me." Sam shuffled through the papers until he found the notes he had made sometime after takeoff. "I want you to look into NFH ID number 634385. He worked on cases consistently for about a year, and then disappeared roughly four months ago. I can't find him anywhere."

  "I'll start digging around." Indie paused. "Refresh my memory… what are the numbers we have so far?"

  "Well, Eric is 665013…" Sam turned toward Eric and leaned over, tapping him
on the knee. "Hey, can you tell me the numbers for the people in your block at NFH?"

  Eric tilted his head, confused, but complied nonetheless. "654013 and 646013."

  Sam nodded his thanks and repeated the numbers into the phone.

  "Okay,” Indie said, “so the last one's a number, but we have 4013, 5013, and now 6013. It sounds like a sequence of some sort. I can try to pull out all cases involving an 013 , but it will take a while…"

  Sam pursed his lips, brow creasing in thought. "Even 4040 isn't all that far away. It's…"

  "Twenty-seven."

  Sam looked at Eric and gave him a grateful smile. "It's only a twenty-seven number gap."

  "You want me to look into the whole range?" Indie asked.

  Sam considered it for a moment, but then he shook his head. "No, stick with the thirteens for now. We'll expand when we have more time and more facts."

  "Got it. I love you, Sam. Have any chance you’re going to get to spend some time with your family soon?"

  Sam smiled into the phone. "I’ll make a point of it,” he said. “Kiss the kids for me."

  “I will, babe. Talk to you soon.”

  Sam hung up his phone and set it aside, returning to his notes and frowning. North Forest Hospital has its own doctors, kitchen workers, and guards. They have their own cafeteria, gym, library… they do their own laundry and building maintenance. It's practically impossible to find a third party vendor who works in or around the building.

  Still, a third party was one of the easiest ways to get information without raising flags, so he grabbed a blank sheet and began to write. What other choice did he have?

  They would have to get pharmaceuticals… food or ingredients in bulk... and there has to be some company providing electricity…

  * * *

  Sam looked at the evidence board, took a breath, and then turned to speak to the rest of the team, but he kept his eyes on Eric. "There are a few particular things about this case bothering me. Based on the information we have so far, we are probably looking at somewhere between twenty-four and thirty victims, all of whom are probably from the local homeless community. We determined that the killer has been operating in the area for at least two years, according to when the first known victims disappeared, but it’s quite possible that he’s been around even longer than that. Because we are dealing with the homeless population, we have to consider the possibility that a number of victims may have gone completely unnoticed in the past."