No, he wasn’t going to share his Peach with Ant.
***
Lying in bed, Elsa finished with Chapter Two. This particular subject had seemed more like an experiment in Mr. Black’s ability to take control. His lack of skill was even more glaringly apparent in these writings. It was a nice change. She felt like she was reading Victor’s thoughts when he wrote about Kayla and not Mr. Black’s. He was gentler with this Chapter and far more lenient. Elsa actually felt a bit of jealousy toward Kayla. She wished she had known Victor back then. There might have been a chance with him if she had gotten to him before his light was extinguished and Mr. Black had completely taken control.
If only there was a time frame she could put with the case studies. She tried making a mental timeline by adding all the weeks together and subtracting them from the current date, but it was only a guestimate and a poor one at that considering she didn’t know how long the time frame was between each Chapter. Her best guess was that he had been subjugating these poor people to his will for at least three years, though in reality, probably longer.
She had sped through Chapter Two eager to get to the beginning but as she turned each page and got closer to the end, there was a sinking feeling that she hadn’t learned everything she wanted to know. When she turned the last page she was outraged to find that there was no Chapter One. His case study simply ended.
His words had caused her to laugh, cry, yell, throw things across the room, and feel sympathy, empathy, anger, arousal and disgust. It was the best non-novel she had ever read. The damned manuscript had left her a pile of frayed nerves and blistered emotions, and now there was no resolution to any of it? No beginning and no end? What the fuck kind of cruel joke was this?
Elsa stared at the last page for nearly a minute in dumbfounded shock and denial. If she hadn’t stolen the damned thing, she would’ve demanded a refund. She felt like screaming at the top of her lungs, but instead, all that came out was lunatic laughter. She really was insane and Mr. Black was all to blame.
Infuriated, she stuffed the pages into her backpack and forced herself to sleep.
Sunday morning, she woke late and decided to take a bus to the hospital to rescue her vehicle before it got towed. She was still livid about the lack of a Chapter One. She wanted more. She needed all of it if she was going to get through to Victor.
On her way home, she stopped off at her favorite café, unable to bring herself to go home. She had spent nearly twenty-four hours confined there and she needed fresh air and sunlight.
As she sipped on her coffee, she was treated, yet again, to seeing Victor’s face on television. There was a big break in the case and he was front and center at a press conference. Elsa rushed to the counter to see what was going on.
Victor looked tired but his voice was steady and calm when he answered a reporter’s question. “I can’t give away any vital information at this time. However, I can tell you that we’ve had a significant break in the case and we’re acting on it appropriately.”
“Is it true that you conferred with known serial killer Anthony Bruce regarding this case?” someone from behind the camera blared out.
Victor’s eyes darkened and his mouth thinned. Elsa cringed. She knew the look well. He was angry and she felt a twinge of sympathy for whoever had asked the question. Would Mr. Black lash out or would Victor’s cool professionalism prevail? She watched in stunned silence as he stared wordless at the reporter. As the room quieted down and waited for his answer, it was as if he was looking directly at her and he knew what she was thinking and already planning. She only half listened to his response as she struggled with her conscience because all she wanted to do was get to his house and find Chapter One.
As she drove in silence, she caught herself glancing uneasily into her rear-view mirror and over her shoulder. She had a much stronger guard up since meeting and being subjected to Mr. Black’s brand of education. As she neared his house, she wondered who Anthony Bruce was and why Victor was so irritated with the question. It wasn’t uncommon for the FBI or other law enforcement agencies to utilize the help of convicted killers. They had an inside track to how a murderer’s mind worked, after all. Then again, so did Victor since it was his area of expertise.
The noon sun was bright and high in the sky making it even more imperative that she park in the same secluded spot she had parked before. When she exited her vehicle, a warning voice whispered in her head to turn around but she moved without hesitation. It was getting easier to ignore her voice of reason as each day passed and she began to fear that soon all commonsense would be lost and she would simply act without thinking. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
Slowly, she walked the distance to his house, trying to appear inconspicuous to any passersby. When his house came into view, she was finally able to really appreciate its beauty. It looked so different in the bright light of day. With all the lush green trees surrounding the property, the cool, sweetly scented floral breeze and the wooden fence around the perimeter, it was peaceful.
She dug into her pocket and put the key into the lock and waited for the alarm to turn off. When it did, she made double time to his office. This trip would be a quick one – in and out, she repeated to herself.
She made a bee-line straight to the designated drawer to find the stack of blank pages still exactly as she had left them. She replaced the cover sheet and retied the twine neatly, but as she laid it back inside the drawer, she hesitated. She didn’t really want to say goodbye to it. She had tried her best to etch the words into her memory, but there were just so many of them and she had read the huge manuscript in such a short amount of time, she worried it would all be forgotten. She considered making a copy when she saw his printer. She untied the string quickly and plucked out the sections that she thought were most helpful and of course, the chapter containing Jordan and quickly made photocopies.
With the case study back in its rightful place, she closed the drawer and searched the remainder of his file cabinets for Chapter One but she was unsuccessful in locating it. Giving up, she turned to leave when she saw an unsealed manila envelope on his desk addressed to Virginia State Penitentiary, Anthony Bruce, #6429, which she assumed was his Department of Corrections number. The same warning voice she heard before was now screaming for her to just leave, but she couldn’t resist taking a peek.
She emptied the contents of the envelope onto the desk and her chest felt as if it would burst when photocopied images of his journal notes on her spilled out in front of her. She sank into his chair, stunned and appalled. Her breath seemed to have solidified in her throat as she sat trying to comprehend and make sense of what she was seeing. She clenched her hands until her nails cut into her palms as the realization of what he was planning on doing hit her. She really was just another test subject to study and pass around for everyone to try and dissect, exploit and break down. But a fucking serial killer? Victor had gone too far.
Elsa stood and stuffed everything into her backpack, but left the envelope. She was a volcano on the verge of erupting and she had to get the hell out of his office before she tore it and his entire perfect house apart.
The drive home took half the amount of time it should have, but she didn’t give a shit if she got a ticket or not. The silence in the car seemed to grow tight with tension as her mind clouded with hurt, betrayal and anger. But still, she wanted to fucking help him. She choked back a cry, infuriated with herself for being such an ignorant bitch.
She slammed on her brakes and pulled onto the shoulder. Reaching into her backpack, she shredded his journal notes without thinking. As soon as she did, she regretted it. Only hours before she was bemoaning the fact that she would never get to read his thoughts on her and here it was, like a gift. Or a curse.