8: Discoveries
He barely noticed the knock on his door, he was deep in thought, but Robert went over and opened it anyway. The person standing there managed to bring him out of his self imposed trance, for there stood his brother Ryan.
“Uh, Ryan, what are you doing here?”
“Thanks for the warm welcome.”
“What…oh, I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you, and I’m kind of distracted these days, come in, come in.”
“Ryan walked in and was stunned to see the shape of the place. Leftovers were lying around and papers were scattered everywhere.
“Distracted seems a good description, though a little under stated.”
“Would you like something to drink? What brings you around?”
“Well I was in town on business and thought I would drop by, see how you were doing?”
“Oh, I’m fairing okay, I’m being reviewed by my company at the moment, seems I shot a cop and made him loose his arm.”
“What!”
“Oh…um…I guess I wasn’t supposed to say that, sorry, my mind is in other places these days. Please don’t tell anyone else.”
“Uh…okay, but that sounds pretty serious, I hope it wasn’t intentional.”
“No, no. I guess since I told you that part I might as well let on that I had another panic attack and apparently pulled a gun on someone in my hallucination, but instead shot a cop in real life. Once again, don’t tell anyone else this.”
“You don’t seem too shaken up over it.”
“I was, but I have to move on, the cop is still alive and moving on as well.”
“That’s an interesting way to put it.”
“Well, that’s life for you.”
Robert walked into the kitchen, Ryan followed. As Ryan passed the kitchen table he glanced at the papers, his brother didn’t seem his normal self, almost forced. The papers made his heart skip a beat. There lay pictures of dead bodies, tortured, gruesome, and in the center of it all, a picture of Trent Frennur. Ryan felt he was going to faint so he looked away and instead fixed his gaze on Robert. Robert was absentmindedly staring at him and the table, seeming to just realize what was taking place, coming back to reality.
“Oh, don’t mind those Ryan, I was asked to clean up some files while on leave, thought I would start on this one, pretty interesting really, considering our child hood and all. Here, have a soda.”
Ryan glanced at the dirty glass with soda in it being offered to him, then at his brother. He was trying to sort this out, trying to figure out what seemed wrong with his brother. Robert didn’t seem to like this quiet pondering; he kept shifting his eyes, tapping his hands on the counter.
“Robert, I’m going to cut to the point here, because I don’t like what I see. It appears I have caught you with your hand in the cookie jar; at least by the way you are acting. In all the times we discussed your job I supported you, because you really seemed concerned about people and what lay hidden to hurt them, yet you never ever seemed to be obsessed about what came along with the job, the gruesome details. Sure you put up with them, but only to help in the end, to make sure people such as Frennur were caught. This doesn’t look like that Robert. It looks like you are becoming obsessed with this case. I figured there was some attraction, but I never thought you would come to this point.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“No? Then how do you explain your notes here, detailing the murders, the crimes, and yet we both know this case is closed, you cannot help anyone here, because what is done is done.”
“Maybe I’m learning…”
“Don’t give me that, you know good and well what happened to Gatchet, who also thought he could pry into the mind of the demented. Where is he now? He sits in a bed, mumbling to himself while his family has been forced to move on without him. Is that what you want?”
“Get out.”
“You know, I think you are running from something, and you found this to occupy yourself.”
“Get out!”
“Fine I will leave Robert, but with these parting words: you are running directly into what you are running from.”
Before Robert could say another word Ryan spun around and left, slamming the door behind him. Robert stood there, both guilt and anger displayed on his face. He knew his brother was right, but he didn’t want to hear it, he had no right. Coming here, lecturing him on how he should live his life. That was all his family did: go to this church, do this job, get a family; he was tired of it. It was time to he lived his own life and they would just have to deal with it.
The week sped on, the FBI was going to charge him, but the final verdict wasn’t out yet, and still he pored over Frennur’s files. Yet he couldn’t stop thinking of his brother’s words, which only brought anger anymore.
Friday came, and Robert sat on his couch, staring at the wall, his mind so confused he had no idea what he was doing, he hadn’t slept all week. A letter slipped under his door. He stared at it for what seemed like an hour. He didn’t even think what it was, just stared at it. Finally he got up, walked over, and picked it up. It didn’t have an address, just said Robert Drake on it, the handwriting was unfamiliar. He opened it, and looked at the bottom of the last page, not caring what the rest had to say. Margaret Gatchet shown in handwriting that seemed to be firm, yet gentle. He fumbled for the first sheet, confused, yet suddenly attentive. He read:
Dear Robert,
You may be surprised to see a letter from me know doubt and I’m not one for secrets so I’m going to come out and say that your brother has visited me. This may make for some anger after hearing of your last encounter, but I felt that I should say something, something that you should, and need to hear. This has to do with my husband, Bartholomew.
Robert threw the papers down, he couldn’t believe it, his brother was at it again, messing with his life, prying, judging; trying to convince him he was wrong. He walked off and started making lunch. After burning three grilled cheese sandwiches he gave up and ate a few chips, sitting again on the couch. He found himself looking at the letter, he told himself he wouldn’t read it, but it only made him want to read it more. After an hour of arguments with himself he finally gathered up the letter and started reading again.
As you well know, my husband resides in a mental hospital. He spent only a few years of his life tracking Trent Frennur, and suffered a lifetime for it. Bart was a kind man, considered one of the softest police men and often giving warnings (maybe too many). He was a good husband and father, not perfect, but good. He was a religious man, always taking us to church, believing in the grace and mercy of God, most likely where he got his soft spot. Yet when he got the lead on Frennur something came out that none of us had even known existed, pride. Sure we were all proud of him, but he took it to heart. When he was offered a position in the FBI on the case, he took it, seeing it as a step up. The next few years were hard and they wore on his pride, his momentary victory slipping from him, but out of sheer luck (or providence as I like to put it), he finally caught Frennur. He acknowledged that it was a best guess at first, but soon thought his subconscious must have known all alone, pride yet again. I noticed it, but wasn’t forthright enough to bring it to his attention. He soon set off on his journey to further understand why men can murder without any sign of guilt and find enjoyment in it. At first he said he was doing it for the good of the people, I believed him, still do, but man can’t sit and eat with the enemy and come out unscathed. You see, even the most religious man still has the old man, the man that hates God because he realizes only God has control over what happens in life. We like to think we are in control, taking hold of our destiny, but in the end we only make decisions on what we are given in life. My husband made the choice to try and tinker with the sinful mind, but in the end only found his own sinfulness. I don’t know how many times I heard him talk in his sleep, or when he confided in me, about how
he felt he was doing the things Frennur did. At times he couldn’t distinguish his own hate with Trent’s, his own callousness with the others. This is what I believe drove him to the point of his breakdown. You see, we all share the root of sin that Frennur does, or anyone like him. It is part of our separation from God; we like to twist what He intended; that is the extent of our hatred. My husband couldn’t face it apparently, and his mind it lost in thoughts only he and God know. Knowing this I urge you to not make the same mistake. Do not dance with the devil as they say, it can only come to harm. Knowing that people kill and enjoy it is enough, do not presume to find out why; do not dig into their minds. Your brother seems to care for you very much. He sought me out in deep distress. You may think he is trying to run your life, but he is doing what I didn’t for my husband, helping; helping to trip you up before you blunder your way into a world of fear and a world without God. In parting, I ask you again to put this aside, move on to things more wholesome. If that is not enough to persuade you, then I demand that you quit digging up my past, my shame, and my husband’s. You have no business trifling in these matters.
Sincerely and with hope,
Margaret Gatchet
Robert felt the letter slip from his hands as tears welled in his eyes. He knew all along this was not right, yet convinced himself otherwise. He had seen what men such as Frennur and Marson could do first hand, yet let himself fall into thinking he could make a difference by studying them beyond need. That was the excuse, he knew deep down that he found the shock, the gritty details, and the moment of the fight exciting. Like a soldier home from war, he couldn’t stand the normal life, slowed down to the point of depression. How often had he glorified fighting throughout his life, the honor, the prestige of taking up arms against the bad guy? Had he lost the understanding that these were only necessities, that in and of themselves there was no glory, no honor? No the glory and honor lay in those that understood what taking up arms meant, and did it anyway, because the need was there. All this, along with the permanently maiming of a cop, brought Robert to his knees. There was no holding back now, tears streamed from his eyes and his body shook with grief. For the first time in many years Robert prayed, prayed that God would bring him out of this mess, and back onto the proper path. He prayed till he finally fell asleep out of grief.
Robert woke up late that morning, eyes puffy, but his mind was clear. He had one thought on his mind, to return the files back to work and to get back to a normal life. He started gathering up all the papers and putting them back into the original order. After he finished he started cleaning up the house, trying to figure out how to get the files back to work, he didn’t want anyone to know he had taken them. Just as he finished up the dishes he heard a knock on the door, a firm one. He knew who it was, he walked over and opened the door, and there stood Guy, with a look of disappointment and anger on his face. He came in without a word, and then turned on Robert.
“Of all the stupid things I have ever seen, this is the worst. I thought you were smarter than this? No answer huh, well, stealing a file for personal use is strictly forbidden, did you not know this? Do you realize where this puts me? Not only could we both loose our jobs, they could close our division. Don’t look at me like that, I’m not stupid Robert. Sure it took a couple weeks, but I finally connected the dots between your two panic attacks, the first being at SODM, after that I figured something triggered the second, so I went looking for the files, only to find them missing. Thankfully I have some self control or the whole place would have known something was up.”
“I’m sorry sir, I know it was wrong, but I convinced myself otherwise, I guess I’ve always had a fascination with the Frennur case. That is not an excuse however and I can’t justify what I’ve done.”
“All right, all right, that’s enough of that. No one else knows and I prefer to keep it that way, so hand over the file and I will make sure it gets back in its place. I understand you are having a hard time of this, but you also must understand my end, perhaps we may have even been able to avert this whole thing if you hadn’t taken that file.”
Robert handed him the file with a look of guilt on his face. “Everything is in the original order sir.”
“Fine, fine, look Robert, neither of us can go back, and even if we did we can’t guarantee things would have worked out differently, so let’s put it behind us and move on.”
“Yes sir.”
“I do have some good news. Having noticed your anxiousness I tried to put in some good words; pull some strings, and I managed to convince the board to let you back in while they wrap things up. They have decided to drop the full charges in recognition of what you have done for the company, but they haven’t decided if they are going to let you go or not. In the mean time they said it was okay for you to work on a less strenuous case. In fact one just came up. We have a report from some police in Colorado Springs on grand theft. It appears they are having a big issue with all sorts of things being stolen, from cars to blue ray players, mostly residential. This has been going on for almost a month now and the local police are at their wits end, not to mention the theft seems to grow by the day. I told them I would send someone down there to help sort things out. This isn’t a field position, you are not to carry a gun and you are to spend all your time working at the central police station and your hotel. You main role is to provide expertise and support. Do you understand me?”
Robert couldn’t believe his ears, first his conviction and realization of the trouble he was in, and now back at work, back doing what he loved, solving issues for the greater good. Maybe he could do with some prayer more often. “Sounds good sir, when do I leave?”
“Give me a few days to get things together and we will get you off and running. You are allowed to come back to work in the mean time as all the snooping on you is finally over.”
“Sounds good sir, I guess I will come in tomorrow then, might as well take the rest of the day off.”
“That is the most sense I’ve heard from you in a while Robert, see you tomorrow then.”
From Darkness Page 8
