Mad, Mad World

by J. D. Sloane

  “I’m sure he just went home, Ronan. Like I said, it’s his apartment. It always was.”

  Ronan rolled his eyes away from her again and looked out the front window of his cell, the sharp, perfect line of his profile suddenly etched in a halo of light.

  “How chivalrous of him,” he said, his low voice once again politely disengaged.

  Alicia took a step towards him, the joyless, angry look on his face filling her with a wave of empathy and then paused as he glanced at her, the grim set of his jaw stopping her in her tracks.

  “Ronan, we don’t have a lot of time,” she said, her voice low and halting. “Look. I need to show you something.”

  Alicia pushed his cell door open and stepped out into the outer hall, picking up her bag and slipping back inside before the door sighed shut. She pulled a folder out of the top pocket as Ronan walked over and felt her body explode into goosebumps as he blinked down at her, the edges of his lips turning down as her fingers fluttered through the file. She took a deep breath and then pulled out three large black and white photographs, shifting one on top of the other two. Ronan took them out of her hand, holding them up to the light to get a better look and flinched as he realized what they were of, setting them down on the window sill as he averted his gaze.

  “This photo was taken about 6 months before Brooke disappeared,” Alicia said watching his expression as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip and then cleared his throat. “This one- just a few months before. See? Date stamps.”

  She saw his expression darken with the only involuntary rush of pain she had ever seen stamped across his face, his eyes darting over the images frantically for a moment before he glanced back towards the window.

  “And?” He asked, his voice low and clipped.

  Alicia flipped to another photo and turned it towards him, trying to catch his eye.

  “Well there’s a tattoo here. On her lower back. It seems like it’s larger in this one. It looks like flowers and ivy here. But in this one, the earlier one, it isn’t as finished. It looks like it’s covering up a word. From this angle it looks like the word ‘Whore’.”

  Alicia watched Ronan’s face twist with contempt and he paced away from her, rolling his neck to one side slowly as if working out a kink.

  “It looks like someone- carved it into her back. And that she was trying to cover it up somehow.”

  Ronan cleared his throat and then turned his head slightly, looking at her out of the corner of his eyes.

  “Where did you get those?”

  “From Nolan,” Alicia said, setting them down. “I went to go see him the other day.”

  “He mentioned it,” Ronan said, biting back a sneer. “And is that what he told you? That I did that to her?”

  “That’s what he implied,” she said, her voice almost compassionate. “Did you do it?”

  “No,” he said, his voice low and annoyed.

  “Do you know who did?”

  “I think you like asking me questions about my relationships, Miss Gale. Care to tell me why?”

  “Because I believe what you’re saying, Ronan,” Alicia said, her fingers curling around the ledge as she glanced out at the hall. “I think you were right about Nolan. I think a lot of people worked hard to put you in here, and if there’s one thing this city hates worse than crime, it’s a corrupt police force.”

  Alicia waved her hand across the window, shaking her head.

  “This wing alone is enough to shut Dula down for good. But there can’t be more any more surprises. I have to know everything. I believe Brooke was kidnapped. I’m certain you didn’t kill her. But it you beat her, if you- mistreated her somehow, I have to know that. I can’t be flying blind out there when this all goes national. Otherwise none of it will amount to any more than us building up a nice, sturdy scaffolding for the public to hang you from.”

  Alicia shook her hair out of her eyes with a frantic flip of her fingers.

  “And I don’t know about you, Ronan, but I’m not in the habit of rounding up lumber for my own execution.”

  Alicia looked up as Ronan’s shadow fell across her and felt all the air leave her lungs as he tipped her chin up with his fingertips, his dark blond hair tumbling across the scarred side of his face as he looked down at her.

  “Or maybe you’re just more of a voyeur then you let on, Alicia,” he said, his eyes narrowing with a malicious rush of humor as she flicked her head away from him. “Why don’t you ask me what you really want to know?”

  Alicia felt her entire body quake with hunger as Ronan leaned closer and touched her lips with his fingers turning his head towards her ear as he gave her a wink.

  “What do you really want, Holly? Hmm? Who knows? Ask me and you might just get it.”

  Alicia leaned closer, her face hardening and felt a sudden rush of anger pivot in his direction as his dark eyes did their amused twirling thing, the thing that always made her feel like there was some hilarious inside joke that he was enjoying at her expense.

  “Did you do it or not, Ronan? I don’t care which, but I have to know.”

  She felt her disappointment sour into something darker as Ronan turned his back on her and paced back over to the window, his pale face becoming a smooth, unreadable blank as he shrugged.

  “I already answered that question.”

  “Who did it then?”

  “I could tell you, Alicia. I really could. But I hate to speak ill of the dead.”

  Alicia dropped her hand and tilted her head at him, watching the cheerful malice in his face shift a little darker.

  “Did you kill him too?”

  “I’m not sure that my answer will contribute to the benevolent slant of your story.”

  Alicia tried to quell the hard knot of embarrassment from driving her frustration higher as she noticed how closely Ronan was watching her, looking her over with the offhanded arrogance of a real estate investor, curious about the resell potential on one of his developing properties.

  Either that or like a John, she thought, adjusting the shoulder of her dress as she glanced towards the far door. One who just figured out that his favorite girl allowed herself to do something incredibly stupid. Like fall in love with him.

  “They won’t let him get away with it,” Alicia said. “They won’t. Once you give the interview…”

  “I think you’re overestimating the compassion of the average citizen, Miss Gale. And underestimating the game that Dula is playing. I’d almost admire his commitment to his craft if he ever once seemed like he was enjoying himself.”

  Alicia pressed her lips together as Ronan paced the length of the long window in front of his cell, his dark eyes passing from one end of the hall to the other like a general watching the last bloody battle of an offensive destined for failure.

  “Are you going to tell me what they did to you?” She asked, her voice lowering.

  Ronan tipped his eyes in her direction and rested his forearm against the glass, his eyes blinking rapidly for a moment as he let out a deep sigh.

  “Like I said, Alicia. Different versions of the same. Old. Game. If they can’t change the way you think, they’ll change what you can think about. The only difference this time around is that Dula found someone who can actually do it.”

  Alicia swallowed hard as he ignored her, the hatred in his voice so raw and unhidden that she stepped to his side without thinking and held out her swipe card, her eyes soft and frantic as he raised his brows in her direction.

  “Then let’s go,” She said, holding out the card as her face dropped all traces of its girlish sweetness. “Right now. We’d be out of here before they even knew you were gone.”

  “And who did you get that from?”

  “No one. I found it. It doesn’t matter. This place isn’t nearly as secure as Dula thinks it is. We could make it. I know we could.”

  Ronan looked over her face quickly, his dark eyes darting over the card in her
hand and stepped towards her as his eyes narrowed, his lips curling up into a slight smile.

  “Sure that’s an offer you can back up, Miss Gale? Because no one hates a turncoat more than the guardians of polite society. The world becomes a little different once you slip that gate.”

  Alicia opened her mouth to say something as Ronan raised his hand to touch her face and then jerked it back mid-motion as if he’d reached the end of a tether, his entire demeanor smoothing out into one of calm annoyance. He rolled his neck slightly, looking down at her with half-lidded eyes and then turned around, his shoulders flexing and unflexing in the shadows along the wall.

  “I’ll deal with Dula,” he said, his gravelly voice pulsing with a low tremor of fury before becoming calm and reasonable again. “He still thinks that bad publicity is the worst thing that can happen to someone. Men from his world always do.”

  Something’s changed, she thought, turning her head sharply as the door at the end of the hall buzzed loudly. They did something to him in there, I don’t know what. But this isn’t going to end for him. This isn’t just about getting out of here anymore. Or even about finding the man who murdered his girlfriend. It’s become more than that to him.

  She slid her badge into her pocket as she saw Morlan walk swiftly down the corridor, his expression so tense and angry it looked like it was about to crack wide open.

  This is about revenge.

  “Just sit tight, Alicia,” he said without looking at her, smirking at Morlan without humor as he jogged up to the cell door. “Remember, good things come to those who wait.”

  Morlan buzzed himself in, shaking his head as Ronan raised his brows at him.

  “We need to go now,” he spat, looking at Alicia as if he struggling to find a reason not to drag her out of the cell. “Right now.”

  “Don’t worry, Morlan,” Ronan said, his pale face so calm and unreadable it was almost serene. “I’d say Miss Gale and I have just about all we need from each other. Wouldn’t you agree, Alicia?”

  Alicia bit her bottom lip as Morlan stepped back towards the threshold, glancing down the hall in both directions. She grabbed her bag off the floor, sweeping the photos of Brooke into the front pocket and then paused as Ronan cleared his throat, watching Morlan out of the corner of his eye.

  “Those photos,” he said, his voice flat and polite.

  “Yes?”

  “Leave them.”

  Alicia hesitated and then yanked the photos out of her bag with one hand, setting them down in a pile next to his pillow. She tucked her bag over one arm as Morlan gestured to her and pulled his radio off of his belt, hitting the call button as he glanced down the hallway. Her brow furrowed as she heard Ronan whisper something behind her and paused at the threshold as she tried to make it out.

  “I’m sorry, what? What did you say?”

  Ronan turned his head towards her, his wide eyes narrowing, and she blushed as she realized that he hadn’t been speaking to her at all, her heart constricting painfully as he looked her over with sudden suspicion.

  “Sorry,” she said, tucking her bag over her shoulder Morlan held the door for her. “I thought you said something.”

  Morlan shook his head at her as she fell into lockstep next to him and looked her white lab coat over with disbelief as he swiped his card at the exit.

  “Leave that thing down here,” he said pointing to the desk next to the metal double doors. “Are you seriously nuts? Does that guy just spread crazy or what?”

  “Dula had no right to forbid me to see him, Morlan. I am not going to apologize for doing my job. Even if it means that I stumbled onto his secret pharmaceutical kill floor that is probably funding this entire place…”

  “Well, good news, Alicia, because you’re going to get a chance to tell him yourself. He told me to bring you upstairs. Immediately.”

  Alicia’s eyes widened as they stepped inside the elevator and Morlan ran his tongue over his lips, shaking his head at her as he hit the up button.

  “Don’t look at me. I told you this area was off limits. You’re just lucky that Dula’s so paranoid those cameras only go to the end of the hall. He knows you got down here, he just doesn’t know how much you saw.”

  He held out his hand as the doors slid open and stepped out onto the main floor.

  “The card,” he said. “Now.”

  Alicia hesitated and then plucked the swipe card out of her pocket handing it over to him as Morlan rolled his eyes.

  “There were at least a dozen other people down in that area besides you. He can’t prove you were inside the lab, Alicia, only that you were looking for it. You want my advice? Play dumb. If not for your sake, then for mine. Not everyone is on some mad crusade to follow White down the rabbit hole. Some of us only help him because he doesn’t leave us any choice.”

  Morlan swung the door open to Dula’s office and she stepped inside as the warden looked up from his desk, looking over the injured side of her face with narrowed eyes without standing up.

  “Thank you, Morlan,” he said without looking at him. “That’ll be all for now.”

  Alicia cleared her throat as Morlan swept behind her and closed the door after him, the soft click of a mechanical lock turning in the silence.

  “I take it you don’t want anyone to walk in on this conversation,” Alicia said, walking to the front of his desk. Dula grinned without standing and then inclined his hand towards the opposite chair, his expression trying hard to be magnanimous and not quite hitting the mark.

  “Miss Gale,” he said, his voice cool and collected. “I apologize for your treatment up front, but that still gives you no excuse to go wandering around in a restricted area. I only agreed to meet with you to prevent a larger scene. And to give what you may have witnessed down there a little- professional context.”

  Alicia rolled her eyes to the matted and framed degree hanging above his desk and then shrugged.

  “And what do you think I might have witnessed, Cyrus? Your recovery area? The one without any windows or cameras? Because I’ll be honest with you, the men in those cells don’t look like they’re recovering from anything. It looks to me like some demented ten-year-old just built himself a five million dollar kill jar.”

  Dula blinked quickly at her, his face dropping and then sat forward in his chair, folding his hands in front of him as his eyes narrowed.

  “And what would you know about that, Alicia? How can you think you could possibly begin to understand what you’ve seen?”

  “Fine,” Alicia said, taking a seat as she cocked her head towards him. “You want to play nicely, Cyrus? Let’s play nicely. I want some answers about this place. Right now. I want to know what kind of program you’re running here. Because believe me, once I start talking to the other inmates you claim to have helped, you’re never going to be able to talk about anything else.”

  Dula regarded her in silence for a moment, his expression so calm and unreadable it was as if he had simply hung a sign on the window and checked out mentally for a span of several seconds. Alicia tried not to squirm, the urge to twitch under his flat, unpleasant scrutiny almost enough to make her scream out loud and then blinked as he gave her a tight smile and hit a button beneath his desk, his demeanor suddenly changing into that of a gracious host.

  “Of course, I understand your concern, Alicia,” Dula said, turning his head as one of the doors to his inner offices cracked open. “But there’s no need for threats. I’ve actually brought in our program doctor to explain some of the finer points of what we’re doing here.”

  Alicia turned her body as a tall thin man in a white lab coat came around the corner and stepped behind the desk to Dula’s right, folding his hands in front of him. She looked him over rapidly, trying to place his face and felt a thrill of fear run through her as the man looked down at Dula until he stood up, sliding into his plush leather chair with the air of a not quite cordial dictator.

  “Who are you?”
Alicia said, reaching for her recorder automatically. The tall man looked down his nose at her and smirked, pointing to her recorder as he clucked his tongue at her.

  “No, no, Miss Gale. Now that wouldn’t be very ethical, would it?”

  Alicia bit back a cutting remark and glanced at Dula, who stood in silence beneath the window with his hands folded behind his back.

  Like some kind of well-behaved assistant, she thought, dragging her fingers away from her pocket as she straightened up in her seat. One that has no illusions about who’s really in control here.

  “I’ve always found that morals in journalism are a lot more valuable to the common man, actually,” she said, tucking her bangs behind one ear with a smooth snap of her hand. “But whatever. Have it your way. Do I at least get a name?”

  The man behind the desk gave her a bright smile and then sat forward in his chair, regarding her with a warm, generous expression that made her spine tingle with warning in spite of herself.

  “She gets to the point, doesn’t she?” He said, his voice calm and rich as his eyes raked over her slowly. “How nice. I’m Dr. Leo Cain. Mr. Dula informs me that you have some concerns about our program here, Alicia. I’m here to alleviate them.”

  Alicia blinked quickly as she felt a sharp tug of memory and then raised her brows at him as she glanced at Dula out of the corner of her eye.

  “Dr. Cain? I remember that name. You were the chief medical officer at the Wellsan State Penitentiary. In Idaho, right?”

  “What a good memory you have, Alicia. And yes. That was my first civilian placement, believe it or not. I’ve worked for a number of different facilities since then of course, but I’ve always held a special place in my heart for Wellsan. That was truly home.”

  Alicia followed Dula with her eyes as he paced in front of his bookcase and glanced at his degree again, several unpleasant facts rolling together all at once like some kind of cosmic one-armed bandit that had just hit all sevens.

  “So you two have been working together since then, I take it?”

  “Well, not always in tandem, Miss Gale. But Warden Dula and I have been crossing professional paths for some time now. It’s so rare to find someone in this field who shares the same passion for rehabilitation that I do. When I heard that he’d taken over this fine new facility, agreeing to help spearhead his treatment program simply seemed like- a natural fit.”