Beneath the Mask of Sanity

by Mark Phillips

  “No!” Dunham screamed.

  “The Mother,” Bentley said. A slow smile of pure joy spread across his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his knife.

  Dunham squeezed the trigger, but just as he did, Frank’s arm pulled his shoulder back. The shot sailed wide and blasted into the wall by the bathroom.

  “Frank, Jesus!”

  Dunham ran forward. Sheila was in his line of fire now.

  “I’ll kill you!” Sheila screamed. “You mother fucker!”

  She ran towards the man. He stepped out of her line of trajectory and Sheila tumbled down the stairs.

  Dunham ran down, but Bentley was on her, his knife raised. Thoughts ceased and he fired. The bullet ripped through the kid’s back and he turned. There was a smile on his face and he turned back and plunged the knife into Sheila’s chest.

  Dunham shot again and again and again. The kid’s back exploded in red and he fell to the floor next to his victim.

  Through the commotion no one had heard the phone ring or the call go out on the walkie. Now, Dunham took his off his belt and pressed the button.

  “I got him. I got the bastard, he’s dead, but Sheila’s hurt, get the fuck over here.”

  117.

  Agent Conrad heard the call. Joy filled his chest, making it feel full, like a balloon.

  “Did you hear that boys, get over to the Braddock house. Someone call an ambulance.”

  Conrad set the walkie down and started packing up his things.

  118.

  Frank couldn’t run. His back still hurt too badly and the stairs were the worst. Still, he ambled down the staircase as fast as he could without losing his balance.

  By the time he got down there, Dunham had pushed the kid’s body away and was stroking Sheila’s hair with his hand.

  “Everything’s going to be all right,” Dunham said. “Everything’s going to be fine. An ambulance is on the way, you’re going to be okay.”

  Frank reached Dunham and grabbed his shoulder.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” Dunham shouted. “If you hadn’t pulled me Sheila would never have even been stabbed. Frank held up his pad of paper and Dunham knocked it out of his hands and across the room.

  Frank grabbed Dunham by the shoulders. He pointed the pad of paper.

  “Fuck that,” Dunham said. “I’m done being your reader after how you acted. You’ll be lucky to not come up for review for this.”

  Frank pointed to the body on the ground and then over to his paper. He was trying to mouth something, but Dunham couldn’t make it out. Then, he looked into Frank’s eyes. Dunham’s anger fell away. Frank was trying to tell him something that he thought was important.

  “Fine.” Dunham walked over and picked up the paper. He looked at it. “This just says, she’s right”

  Frank held out his hands motioning towards him. Dunham walked over and handed him the pad.

  Frank flipped through it and then stopped. He held it up to Dunham. His mouth went dry and for a second he felt like Frank, he couldn’t speak. When he regained his speech, he said, “But he’s fucking bald.”

  Frank pointed to the message scrawled out on the pad. It read: “That’s not him.”

  119.

  Bentley watched as the police piled out of the motel. That was his cue. He got out of the booth and ran across the street. Cars honked as he went, but he paid them no attention.

  He took the stairs two at a time and reached Katie’s door.

  120.

  Katie heard the pound on and then a voice. “Your mother’s hurt open up!”

  Her heart froze. The bottle in front of her was almost gone. Katie got up and stumbled to the door. She threw the door open and saw him. His eyes, his face. Then he was pushing his way in. Katie tried to push back, but it was no use, she simply fell on the ground and he was on her.

  121.

  Conrad walked to Katie’s door. He knocked. No answer. The walkie crackled on his belt.

  “It’s not him!” Dunham’s voice shouted. “It’s not Bentley. Get back to the fucking motel.”

  Conrad’s eyes widened. His fist came down on the door. “Katie, are you okay?” No answer. Conrad backed up a step and ran at the door with his shoulder squared. It burst in, wood flying in all directions. He stumbled a few feet into the room. Katie was gone.

  122.

  Dunham kneeled in front of Sheila, not sure what to do. The sounds of sirens rang in the air. Frank was kneeling next to them, his hand had found Sheila’s and it squeezed. Sheila’s eyes were squeezed shut.

  “Are you still with us?” Dunham asked.

  “Yeah,” Sheila said. “We got him.”

  Dunham looked at Frank. “We sure did.”

  “I wanted to kill him. I wanted to be the one.”

  There was a pound at the door. “EMTs!” A voice shouted.

  Dunham got up and opened the front door. Two men with equipment under their arms rushed in.

  “Stab wound,” Dunham said.

  The two techs knelt in front of Sheila.

  “Whatta think?” One of them asked.

  “Looks like it’s too low for the heart. Probably a medi dorsal injury. Get the board; we gotta get her outta here.”

  The younger one stood up and ran back to the ambulance.

  “Is she going to be okay?” Dunham asked.

  The remaining tech looked up. “Yeah, she’ll be fine. Doesn’t look like she lost too much blood. You gonna ride with her?”

  Dunham shook his head no, but Frank tapped him on the shoulder. Dunham turned and looked at his paper.

  Ride with her. I’m going to take the car and get to the hotel.

  Dunham thought about arguing, but he couldn’t bear to do it after he had ignored Frank’s advice earlier.

  “Okay. Get over there and call me.” Dunham paused. “Have someone call me.”

  123.

  Carrying Katie had proved much easier than Bentley would have thought. She was a small girl and that helped. Of course, the wet rag that he’d held over her mouth and nose helped too. The chloroform rendered her unconscious making her pliable, but she was much lighter than he’d guessed.

  Taking the road was out; he’d be caught there for sure. So, he simply hoped that the police that had positioned themselves in the wooded area were gone and headed there.

  The woods were empty, but that only cleared one hurdle. The place that Bentley had set up was across the city. Bentley knew he couldn’t carry this girl that far without attracting attention, he was going to need a car.

  The woods broke up ahead and Bentley could see out onto a residential street. He stopped and lifted Katie off of his shoulders. There was a tall gnarled tree nearby. Bentley laid her back up against it, so she looked like a Mexican taking a siesta.

  “Now you stay still,” Bentley said and smiled.

  He ran out onto the street. There was a gas station at the corner. The street that the gas station faced was much busier. Cars passed by at a regular pace. Bentley walked towards the gas station. He wanted to run, but he suppressed the urge. Time was important but so was not getting caught.

  As he stepped from the sidewalk onto the black top of the gas station he saw what he needed. A car sat in front of the gas station, idling. Bentley walked up. The car was empty. He got in and pulled out. He didn’t wait long enough to hear if anyone was shouting after him.

  Bentley stopped the car in front of the woods and ran out. He collected Katie and placed her in the passenger seat, she was still asleep.

  “I love it when a plan comes together,” Bentley said and drove off.

  124.

  Wilson and Snyder were halfway to the Braddock house when the walkie spoke again.

  “It’s not him. It’s not Bentley. Get back to the fucking motel!”

  “Shit,” Wilson spat and turned the car around.

  Snyder lit another cigarette. Wilson reached over and grabbed it, spilling hot ash as he did and threw it out the window. �
�Be fucking ready man!”

  “I’m nervous,” Snyder said and then fell silent. “I’m sure Conrad’s got the girl.”

  “I’m not,” Wilson said.

  125.

  Conrad ran down the stairs, but didn’t know where to go from there. He looked out onto the busy street and dismissed that out of hand. Then he looked towards the woods.

  “Bingo,” he said and pulled out his gun.

  He wanted to be quiet, but he wanted to hurry as well. Leaves and brush crunched under his feet as he trotted through the woods. It didn’t take him long to realize that no one was here, the only sounds that he could hear were his own feet.

  Yet, he kept moving forward, not knowing what else to do. Then he saw it. A silver car parked on the wrong side of the road. The car sped off and Conrad grabbed his walkie.

  “Suspect has Katie Braddock. Proceeding north on…The fucking side street next to the motel. He’s in a silver sports car. Might be a Grand Prix.”

  126.

  Wilson and Snyder heard Conrad over the walkie. Wilson turned the car again.

  “I feel like a pinball,” Snyder said.

  “I know the street he’s talking about,” Wilson said. “We can cut him off.”

  127.

  Conrad walked back to the parking lot and reached into his pocket before he realized that he didn’t have a car there.

  “Great.”

  A car pulled into the motel, Conrad recognized the man behind the wheel. He ran to the passenger side and opened the door.

  “That street back there,” Conrad said pointing to the woods. “That’s where he went. He had a fucking car, let’s go.”

  Frank backed out and sped onto the street. He threw the pad to Conrad.

  I want to see the files you have on the Philadelphia and Chicago killings again.

  “What? Now?”

  Frank nodded.

  Conrad dug into his bag and pulled out the manila folder. Frank passed the gas station and roared out onto the street. Conrad held the folder in his hand.

  “You can’t read this now.”

  Frank pointed at Conrad.

  “You want me to read it to you?”

  Frank nodded. He gestured for his pad. Conrad picked it up and handed it to him. Houses passed in a blur, and Frank didn’t take his eyes off the road as he took his pen and scribble on the page.

  Conrad could barely read the scrawl, but it was only one word: Dates.

  “Um. The Philly murder happened last year in December. The bodies were discovered in Chicago in February.”

  Frank scribbled on the pad again. Conrad read.

  Did the girl in Chicago have any new classmates?

  Conrad balked. He searched through the reports. “Let’s see they questioned her friends I remember.” He found the paper and looked over it. “One of her friends mentioned a new boyfriend that she’d had. One that…” Conrad stopped and slapped his head. “One that had transferred from some school in Pennsylvania earlier that year. It doesn’t say if they were able to find him for questioning.”

  Frank nodded. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. They were coming towards the end of the road. The street opened up onto another major road and there was a car parked across it. Frank applied the break and the car slowed.

  “That’s how he does it isn’t it?”

  Frank mouthed the word, they.

  “Yeah, them. One of them kills a family and gives an identity to the other one. Then he stalks and kills the family. Like with the Mullins’. It’s not a different pattern. It’s the same two patterns.”

  Frank stopped the car. Wilson and Snyder were walking towards them.

  “You must have seen him,” Wilson said.

  “No,” Conrad said, getting out of the car.

  “That’s not possible. We were parked here, like twenty seconds after you called. He couldn’t have gotten past us.”

  Frank got out of the car and looked down both streets. He walked over to Snyder and handed him his pad of paper.

  “You’re right,” Snyder said. “If he didn’t get passed us then he’s still on this street.”

  128.

  Bentley pulled out of the driveway. He kept his lights off. The police were gathered only a hundred feet or so down the road. The car rolled out onto the street heading away from them and Bentley resisted the urge to floor it.

  They would take a few seconds to realize the truth and by then, he’d be gone.

  129.

  Dunham sat in the waiting room. He flipped through a used copy of Sports Illustrated while he waited for something to happen.

  A young doctor with a smooth face came out. “You came in with the stab wound?” He asked.

  That was how doctors thought of their patients. Not as people, but as diseases. Maybe that was how they had to think.

  “Yes.”

  “She’s going to be fine. The damage was minimal. They’ll be transferring her to a room soon. You can go in and see her if you want.”

  “No,” Dunham said. “I really need to get back. I’m handling a murder investigation.”

  The doctor’s eyebrows rose. “Okay. Does she have any family that I should notify?”

  “God willing,” Dunham said and walked out the door.

  Déjà vu struck him as he exited the hospital and realized that he didn’t have a car. He could think of only one person to call.

  Rick Pappas was sitting at his desk when the phone rang. He had discovered that he didn’t like being in charge while the Chief was out doing work he should have been doing. Running this damn place meant long hours at the station going through reports and files and cases.

  “Rick Pappas.”

  “Rick it’s Dunham.”

  “Good, are you coming back?”

  “I’m at the hospital. I need a ride.”

  “Didn’t we do this already once?”

  “Just get the fuck over here; we need to get the Braddock house.”

  “On my way.”

  Rick hung up the phone. “Yeah we definitely did this. Whatever, I’ll do your job, mine, chauffer you around, whatever you need. Fuck.”

  130.

  The two cars had driven the entire length of the street and ended back at the gas station. Conrad parked and got out. There was a blue and white parked in front of the gas station. An officer was talking to an irate looking man. He was waving his arms wildly about.

  “What’s going on?” Conrad asked.

  “Sir,” the officer said. “I’m going to need you to… Oh Detective Wilson.”

  “What’s up?” Wilson asked.

  “This man’s car was stolen.”

  “The motherfucker just drove it off. I was only inside for a second. Getting some smokes.”

  “Those things’ll kill ya,” Snyder said with a smile.

  The man didn’t know how to react to that. He stared at Snyder in confusion.

  “Tell me you know your plate number,” Conrad said.

  “Yeah, course I do. 7856 BA.”

  Wilson looked at the officer. “You put out an APB on that number?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Good. You call me if you get any hits. Got it?”

  “Of course.”

  131.

  Bentley pulled the car in the back. There was no garage so he simply pulled it onto the back lawn.

  He lifted Katie out of the seat. She began to stir and that was good. She was going to need to be awake for this. The back door was unlocked.

  The house was bare. There was only a single chair that the idiot had picked out of the garbage. It was a small swivel chair, like the kind you found at computer desks.

  Bentley set Katie in it and pulled out his knife. If she fought him it would have to be quick, but he had an idea that she wasn’t going to do that.

  He slapped her across the face and her eyes flew open.

  “What?” She saw Bentley and the clouds in her eyes cleared, what was revealed was no longer fear, it was pure h
ate. Bentley liked that. Maybe she was the one.

  “Welcome back,” Bentley said.

  “Fuck you.” Katie moved to stand up but Bentley held the knife out. “Don’t move. Or you’ll die.”

  “You’re going to kill me anyway, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, but your mother is not dead yet.”

  Now the fear flashed in Katie’s eyes. “Where is she?”

  “Safe, for now. I want to talk to you.”

  “About what?”

  “About your feelings.”

  “What?”

  “I want to know what it feels like to know you’re going to die.”

  Katie shook her head as if a bee were buzzing by it. “You’re crazy.”

  “Not exactly,” Bentley said. “I’m like you. I’m like all of you, but in a way I’m not like you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “All of you, all of you humans, are violent. I often think it’s funny when I hear politicians that try to argue for censorship. They think the violence in your video games and movies makes you violent. It never occurs to them that it’s really the other way around.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure you do. We are all violent, Katie. We all have urges to kill.”

  “Only sick fucks like you have that urge.”

  “Really?” Bentley walked over to Katie and held the knife to her throat. It touched the flesh but didn’t bite in. “If our situation right now were reversed, what would you do? Would you kill me?”