The Criminal Mind

by Thomas Benigno

  It was hard to believe, but going up was easier than going down—probably because I knew the staircase would hold us and I climbed faster as a result. Of course, by the time we got to the top, my left leg was aching again, and my slight limp was more pronounced than ever. Once back in the parlor, I lowered Charlie gently back on to the office chair we had left there.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. “A hot shower and a soak, and I’ll be fine.”

  “I could use a shower myself,” Charlie muttered under his breath.

  “No shit,” I snapped back.

  I locked the steel door behind us, three deadbolts and all, then put the keys back under the left cushion of the loveseat.

  Once we returned to the shop, I managed to get Charlie back in his chair. As expected, Garth was out cold—face down—his chin in his chest. Though we didn’t think a marching band could wake him, we left quietly anyway.

  As we crossed the street to our car, with Charlie moving in his wheelchair quite capably on his own, a man of average build with short blond hair, thick glasses, and carrying a small paper bag was headed toward us. He smiled as he passed.

  He seemed friendly and unassuming, so I paid him no mind.

  But I should have.

  Before we got back to The Red Mill Inn, Charlie and I stopped at the first gas station we saw. We needed to wash our hands and didn’t think it polite to dirty the apartment sink behind Johanna’s shop, not to mention the towels that were hanging nearby. I also thought it best to keep our underground adventure to ourselves. After all, I had no idea where that tunnel led.

  I went into the station’s convenience store and bought us each a sandwich and soda, which we ate in the car. When we were done, I surprised Charlie with a package of Hostess cupcakes, but before either of us could take a bite, Moon River’s symphonic strings beckoned me once again.

  According to the screen on my cellphone, it was Mia calling.

  “Are you Nick?” The voice was female and except for the trace of uncertainty in it, sounded far too mature to be a teenager’s.

  “This is Nick. Is this Mia?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “Can you put Mia on the phone, please?” I looked over at Charlie. He was listening and hanging on every word, while quietly downing his cupcake.

  “That’s not possible,” the female on the phone responded.

  “Why not?”

  “Because if I’m here, Mia can’t be.”

  “How old are you anyway, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Twenty-four, but what does that have to do with anything?”

  “I don’t know that it does. I’m just trying to understand who you are exactly.”

  “If you want to see who I am then FaceTime me,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “That’s a great idea. I’ll call you right back.” I turned to Charlie nervously. “Shit, how do I FaceTime again?”

  “You may be ‘technology-illiterate,’ you know that?” Charlie grabbed the phone from my hand, hit a button or two with his thumbs, then handed it back to me.

  The face that popped up on the screen was Mia’s, but with a few changes. Her hair was up and she was wearing makeup that included both lipstick and eye shadow.

  I was talking to one of her alters.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Marnie,” she said proudly.

  Charlie tapped me on the arm, and mouthed: “Marnie?” He had a look of astonishment that was lost on me. I turned my attention back to the screen. “Where are you calling from?”

  “My bedroom—Mia’s bedroom.”

  “And where is that?” Though I knew, I asked anyway.

  “We live in Manhattan, on Park Avenue. I’m alone in the apartment right now. Her mom went out, which is why I called. I don’t want to upset her by talking to you. And I don’t want Mia to know about this call either. She has tried many times to block me out of her memory, along with everything I’ve seen and everything that I know happened to her, which by the way, is very different from what she told you.”

  Charlie mouthed the words: “Holy shit.”

  “But I’m not going to tell you anything more on FaceTime,” Marnie continued. “It’s too important. If I can’t tell you in person, forget it.”

  “I’m kind of stuck here in Upstate New York right now. Will you talk to someone else—someone who is working closely with me? She’s a woman, only a little older than you. You’ll like her, and she can definitely be trusted. I promise you that. Her name is Lauren.”

  “Since Mia trusts you, I trust you. But the one who she trusts more than anyone is Charlie.”

  I gave Charlie the phone. “Hey sweetie, I’m here,” he said warmly, and in a manner befitting the softer side of an otherwise crusty old man.

  “I see you, Charlie,” she said. “Are you okay with me talking to this person, Lauren?”

  “Absolutely. Lauren is good people.”

  “I don’t want her judging Mia,” Marnie said. “I don’t want anyone judging Mia. She was just a little girl when all this happened.”

  Charlie thought of his own sister and began to tear up. “No one is going to judge her on anything. We’re up here trying find out what happened to her, and to stop it from happening to any other children.”

  “Please give the phone back to Nick,” she said softly.

  Charlie passed me my cell. “Is there anything you can tell us now?” I asked. “Any new information could be a big help while we’re still up here.”

  I watched as Marnie swallowed hard, looked away, then back into her phone. “Mia wasn’t supposed to go in the box.”

  I was then the one swallowing hard as I tensed up in anxious anticipation.

  “Mia was the lure,” she said regretfully.

  I immediately called Lauren to set up the meeting, while worrying that by the time it took place, Marnie would be gone––off to wherever alters went when not inhabiting Mia’s mind and body. Since Lauren was tied up at work until five, I set up the meeting for 5:30 p.m. at her office at CNN. Mia had seemed to enjoy going there. I hoped Marnie would too.

  Before I hung up with Lauren, she told me that she had to hire a lawyer to represent Mia. “After the doctor/patient waiver was served on Dr. Field for the production of her notes and records, she refused to comply,” she said. “Mia’s lawyer is now going to court to get an order, directing the doctor to turn them over.”

  “Did the doctor give any reason why?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Lauren answered. “She’s taking the position that Mia is still incompetent due to her multiple personality disorder.”

  “What a crock, not to mention how hurtful and insulting that is to Mia,” I said.

  “And should Mia be ruled incompetent, I don’t have to tell you that her adoptive mother, Beatrice Langley, will be calling the shots. And, if given the chance, she won’t be consenting to anything.”

  “Maybe we’ll find out that the former Secretary of the Treasury of the United States was no deer hunter, but, in fact, a pedophile involved in an Upstate kidnapping ring.”

  “If the truth is in the records, we’ll find it. It’s just a matter of time,” Lauren said.

  “Either way, good work—and good luck at the meeting with Marnie. I’ll wire that lawyer of yours his retainer as soon as I get back to the hotel.”

  “Thanks, Nick. I was just about to ask.”

  I then cautioned Lauren that there was no guarantee that it would be Marnie who showed up at the meeting, or that she would even stay once the meeting began. When I called Marnie back, I was pleased to hear that she was the one who answered.

  As I drove toward The Red Mill Inn making my calls, Charlie listened in but remained unusually quiet. After I hung up, about ten minutes passed before either of us sai
d a word, which surprised me. Something was bothering Charlie.

  “I hope when this is all over that you’re not disappointed in me,” he said.

  “What? Why would I be?”

  He didn’t answer.

  I glanced over at him. “Charlie? Why would I be disappointed in you? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  He crumpled the paper bag our lunch came in and dropped it to the floor of the car. “I know…I know carrying me…I know I can be a liability.”

  “Okay, now I know there’s something you’re not telling me. So, what is it? You know better than anyone that you’re not a liability, so why would I be disappointed in you?”

  “Inasmuch as I care about these missing kids, and you know I do, I am more determined than anything to find out what happened to my sister.” Though I was in the midst of getting a crash course on the unmistakable Charlie Malone, this was a side of him I had never seen before. He was both contrite and humble. “When I was young, and my sister was murdered, I went halfway across the world looking for answers—and came back a cripple. I need to know what really happened to her. I need to know that I lost my legs for something more than a winless war. Over the years—and I mean years—I’ve been researching missing children in Upstate New York. I looked for clues, answers. The police have been useless, and still are, but someone like you, who built that Veterans’ Center and caught the Jones Beach killer—only someone like you, who could sponsor the right kind of investigation, can find out the truth.”

  “So, what you’re saying is that you weren’t entirely sincere with me regarding your motivations.”

  “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

  “Then you’re either the most honest man I have ever met, or the most foolish to think that even for a second I was under a misconception about how much the truth behind your missing sister meant to you. So, forget it,” I said firmly. “We are here now. We’re invested in this, and that means you, too.”

  “Really? I mean…so we’re good?”

  “Yes…we’re good—two good guys. That’s all that matters.” The relief that poured over Charlie was palpable. “Anything else you may want to tell me?” I asked, halfheartedly.

  “Yeah…I’ve got to take a leak. Can you step on it?”

  As we pulled up to The Red Mill Inn, we saw Paul’s rented SUV parked outside. With no sign of him in the lobby, we went up to his room and found him sitting at a desk by his bed, pouring over the drone footage on his computer.

  “What’s with these dried-up ravines?” he asked, as he pointed at the screen.

  Charlie, who had to go to the bathroom in such a rush that he didn’t even close the door, heard Paul and answered: “Those were creeks. They used to help with the river runoff.”

  “Well, the river is still there. So why no water in the creeks?” Paul asked.

  Charlie wheeled himself out of the bathroom. “In somewhat better days up here, there was talk of a plan to put up homes in those woods––a whole housing development,” Charlie added. “When I was in Vietnam, I heard that it was green-lighted. Zoning hearings were held, and permits were issued. The only problem—those creeks were in the way. So, as a trade-off for all the real estate revenue the town would receive from the project, the local board of trustees voted to bear the expense of eliminating the creeks and diverting the runoff from the river into an underground sewer system. This sewer system would also help with the heavy accumulation of rain and snow, which we get plenty of up here. Problem was, the economy turned, and the developer abandoned the project; only the idiot town elders—instead of waiting for a surety bond to cover the cost of the sewer system if the builder walked—had already gone ahead and completed it.” Charlie turned to me. “This might explain what we saw down there.”

  “And how the hell do you know all this?” Paul asked.

  “Over the years, I kept in touch with a friend up here. He even went to Nam with me; only difference—he made it out in one piece.”

  “So, I’m guessing he’s your gun connection,” I said.

  “Could be,” Charlie answered coyly.

  “And what do you mean by ‘what we saw down there’?” Paul asked.

  I instantly filled Paul in on the details of our journey into the bowels of Cartersville.

  “And Charlie went with you?”

  “On his back,” Charlie added blithely.

  “And there was a tunnel,” I interrupted. “It was dry as a bone, but with ceiling lights that actually worked.”

  “And where does this tunnel lead to?” Paul asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I didn’t want to leave Charlie alone to explore, and even if I got him down there, it seemed like too long a trek to take with him on my back.”

  “Strange,” Paul said pensively. “That rear apartment, the three deadbolts, the hatch in the dirt floor leading to the tunnel?”

  “Tell me about it,” I said.

  Paul resumed scanning on his laptop. “Maybe we can find the sewing shop on the drone footage,” he said.

  Charlie wheeled himself over to the computer screen where the woods were shown from a height of about five hundred feet. “You have to go farther south,” Charlie said. “To the edge of town, past the abandoned railroad line.”

  Paul jostled his mouse until he saw the stretch of tracks.

  “More south,” Charlie said. Paul moved his mouse accordingly. “There it is!” Charlie shouted.

  The edge of town, the tracks, the roof of the sewing shop, the dead-end street that led into the woods—all were clearly visible.

  “That shop appears to be inside a freestanding building,” Paul said.

  “Right,” Charlie answered. “And look…in the woods. There’s one of those dried-up creeks not far from it. See the culvert?”

  Paul sat back in his chair. “I still don’t get why there’s electricity down in that abandoned sewer tunnel.” He paused to give it more thought. “I bet when it was built, it ran under the town, which means it’s probably still running off the Cartersville electric grid. That would explain the lights.”

  “But the sewer doesn’t run under the town anymore,” I responded. “That part of the tunnel has been completely closed off like a cave collapse. And it looked to me like it was done intentionally.”

  By the time Lauren called, it was too late.

  Marnie was gone and another alter, Madeline, answered. She seemed friendly enough and had a succinct way of speaking––no mincing of words. Lauren asked to meet her instead, and Madeline readily agreed.

  When I filled Paul in on the upcoming meeting, he just shook his head. “How many personalities is it now?”

  “Two personalities have spoken to me––Mia and Marnie,” I answered. “Another alter, Melanie, had spoken to Charlie once, and now Madeline has spoken to Lauren.”

  “What does Lauren hope to accomplish anyway?” he asked. “It was Marnie who had something to tell us.”

  “At this point we have no choice,” I said. “It’s Madeline or nothing, and if an alter is willing to talk, we should listen.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Paul said. “After all, these personalities are swirling around in the same mind and body.”

  While I was listening to Paul, I couldn’t help but wonder what it was that made one alter leave and another appear. I figured there had to be at least one dominant personality that pulled all the strings. Putting aside another Godfather reference, I resigned myself to the simple truth: I knew little-to-nothing about multiple personality disorder.

  Paul continued. “I worked a case once, about ten years ago, where a key witness had multiple personalities. So, I came to know a little bit about it—but I also learned that every case is different, which makes the disorder somewhat unpredictable. I think that if we ever do get to speak to Marnie, we should be upfront with her ab
out the meeting with Madeline.”

  “For all we know, Marnie will be the one to show up anyway,” I said.

  I purposely kept Marnie’s claim—that “Mia was the lure”—from Paul. I just didn’t know what to make of it at the time. It was such a strange thing to say, and I also thought I might have misheard her. Either way, whether it was with Marnie or Madeline, the meeting was at 5:30 p.m., and when the time came for Lauren to report back, Paul, Charlie, and I would be huddled together, anxiously waiting.

  Bookish—with eyeglasses, and smartly dressed—Madeline was polite and serious. Holding a small handbag, she seemed unfazed as Lauren escorted her through the elaborate corporate offices of CNN to a conference room she’d especially reserved for the meeting.

  Before sitting down, Madeline greeted Lauren with a “wonderful to meet you,” and the two shook hands.

  Lauren spoke in a soft and gentle manner. “So how are you doing today, Madeline? Did you get here okay?”

  “I took a cab, and I’m fine, thank you.” Madeline fiddled with her glasses, while gripping her bag so tightly that the tips of her fingers had turned pink.

  “Glad you were able to come,” Lauren added.

  “I go where I’m needed, when I’m needed. It was either me or Judy. So…here I am.”

  “Judy?”

  “I’m closest with Judy, though she’s been pretty quiet for a while. As for me, it’s nice to get out—even though the city makes me nervous.”

  Though Lauren suspected that Judy was an alter, she had to make sure. “Do you two often travel together?”

  “You mean out of the city?”

  “Anywhere?”

  “No. We’re only together in the playground––Judy, me, and the others.”

  “The others?” Lauren asked.

  “Yes, the others.” Madeline seemed to grow more comfortable—Lauren’s kind demeanor a contributing factor.