• the pawn pt 2

    Ch 7
    Day off


    Nick had always enjoyed the bar and being the bosses “favorite” employee he got to work as much or as little as he wanted. It was a useful advantage, one that he didn’t particular enjoy using for his benefited, so not to develop a habit of manipulation. That particular night they where a bit short handed, and in noticing that, nick routenly offered his assistance.
    In the kitchen the chief, John Berkly, stood over the center stainless steel table making his infamous butter fried chicken, it was most renowned appetizer in the whole area, they served it in basket loads and they’d disappear just as fast as they came in. John had created the recipes from scratch, it actually was pretty much the same as ordinary fried chicken, but he had his own blend of sauces and herbs he added to the butter sauce he would pour over and cook the chicken in. A few customers joked that he had laced the breading with crack because it was just that addicting.
    John worked with out talking much, he had to prep the raw chicken before the dinner rush, he’s sleeves were pulled up to he’s elbows and his wet bloody hand grasped a meat cleaver as the other pulled the headless birds from the sink were they soaked, with one quick harsh motion each he slammed the dull blade onto the breast of the bird, the ribs crunched kind of loudly as he did, then with a forceful sawing motion he would cut the blade through the rest of the cartilage, skin and bone separating the bird in half. Every so often there would be the stump of a neck or the leftovers of some organs, Nick would cut those out as they where handed to him and then when finished set them into the bucket to marinate in the butter sauce. After thirty minutes john would fry them up along with the other ones that where marinating.
    Nick took up his usual spot at the bar, he recognized a good hand full of the people there, the regulars always bring friends to try the food and then later get s**t faced drunk to lose a game of billiards to one of the teenagers that hang out there.
    It was as usual relatively quite at the bar, it always starts picking up around seven, above everything else Nick distinctively hear a slap fallowed by hearty laughter, Nicole the waitresses was over near the back was yelling at some guy. He had probable grabbed her a**. Now is hand was near his face like he had just been hit, he had just sat their a moment like he was in shock that she had just touched him. Just as he raised the back of his hand to hit her he found he couldn’t. Nick, now standing behind the man, his hand wrap itself firmly around the guy’s wrist. With his other hand Nick slammed the man’s head into the table breaking his nose, dragged the man by the scruff of his shirt’s neck nick threw him out of the bar onto the curb of the icy street. A few of the customers clapped or cheered, glad the loud and obnoxesh man had been dealt with. As Nick walked back to his place at the bar Nicole walked over to him, her voice still seemed scared or startled for that much, a bit timid but no longer angry.
    “Thanks.”
    “You ok?” Was Nick’s only response, she nodded.
    Mr. L walked in, just now hearing about the incident. After a bit of conversation he decided what nick had done was all for the best and thanked him for his good work and control in the situation. Mr. L had a phone conversation with the individual later that afternoon and after a good hours conversation an understanding was meet, Mr. L has very good people skills, in the end he even got the man to apologize to Nicole.
    As nick’s shift ended he clocked out and said good night to every one and started towards the back of the restraint’s kitchen where the stairs are, above the restraint on the second floor are two living spaces. One was given to nick, completely furnished one bathroom, a kitchen that opens up to the living room, and again above that is a single small bedroom, it wasn’t big it was rather… ‘Compact’ was a better description of it. The second was the lived in by the Lyones’s after they sold their house, as well as being his friendly employers they where also his tenants. He liked them, they didn’t ask a lot of questions and didn’t pry into things. Always reminded Nick that to them he was family, they cared about him a lot.
    Dragging his feet nick nudged the door of his apartment open with his left foot, he was actually the only one that called it an apartment the Lyones didn’t let him pay for the room, they told him to call it their gift to him. The only light that had been in the hallway shimmered from under his doorway. He had left the T.V. on again. Slumping into the couch nick grabbed a few beers from his dorm sized fridgerater and the remote. For the next few hours flipping through channels he watched any show he could find, like family guy, American dad, the Simpsons, Sea Lab 2021, he liked a lot of the shows on adult swim, though he had a strange feeling like he had already seen all the episodes of Happy Tree Friends before. Nick would briefly smile and snicker at the jokes and good humor, but he couldn’t really laugh that much anymore, he hated to think about it, but considering all in all… he didn’t believe he really have the right to laugh or really enjoy himself anymore… everything he had done, every thing had become too routine, too unrealistic, too simple. He swallowed down the pills with a glass of stale water.
    …
    The next morning he woke on his bed, a few hours later he was downstairs finishing of his shift at the bar… Polishing the glasses until he could see his reflection in the shimmer of them. As he went to clock out, Wilson, the weekend chief ran up to him with a manila envelope, John was sick and Wilson was filling in.
    “Hay, Nick, some guy left this for you Sunday, I tried to get it to you before but you weren’t around.” He held the envelope out to nick. Nick on the other hand felt hesitant, he looked down at the hand holding his envelope, he could since himself starting to feel strangely paranoid, what if he had gone through the envelope… if nick had to get rid of him there would have to be an investigation, nick being a close friend and coworker would be personally investigated.
    It was Wilson that broke the quick silence and pushed the envelope into nicks hands.
    “Dude take your mail already, I get home or the wife is going to kill me.” Nick smiled, Wilson hadn’t gone through it, it was still sealed. He glad that he wouldn’t have to lose a friend.
    “See Ya man” Wilson ducked out of the crowded kitchen toward the employee parking lot.
    Nick was right to be afraid, it was another job, after reading through all of its contense and memorizing the photo-graph nick put the tickets in his pocket and set the rest of the papers over a an oven burner, he stood there until there was nothing left but ash and dust.





    CH 8
    Stain


    Nick was the kind of guy you wouldn’t have noticed him in the crowd, he was average height, had an average build, and wore the kind of clothes that blended in instantly. But his ticket had specified one carry on, he had got the envelope late and had no time to pack something, he had left a message saying a collage friend had died at Mr. L’s office and that he was asked to attend the funeral… his alibi. Once at the airport, he had 15min to find his carry on and get on board. Almost running he steered his path towards, as if past, a man that had set down his brief case, he was in a clean cut suit with thick square glasses and short dark hair. This man looked extremely thin and exhausted with jet-lag, he had a strong jaw, was in need of a shave, and looked as if he had went through hell and was getting himself ready to go through it all over again. His eyes where sharp but droopy… he hadn’t paid enough attention. Nick hurriedness wasn’t out of place though being in a airport, he had pretty much crashed into the man, pushing him into the lady in front of him, the man seemed startled but understanding he dismissed it instantly, with out second thought he was going back to his tired stair into the line ahead, with a quick apology Nick hurried out to his gate…with the man’s brief case.
    He got through security easily, only because he had nothing to hide, unlike any other normal job this time he had brought nothing, airport security is too tight these days it would be too much of a risk to get caught.
    The take off seemed unusually slow, nick had been on planes plenty of times for jobs but this must have been the first time he had to do it on the plane. He was seated in the far right in the back, the window seat next to him was empty and the rest of the plane seemed a bit vacant. Three hours into the flight and nick had watched the man, three seats up and to the left, have at least five shots of whiskey. He himself had a scotch, airplane food tastes so much better if you’re drunk.
    He was still plenty sober though, he was doing a good job of acting drunk. It had taken a while for the rest of the crowd to fall asleep, they must have been about halfway there. Slowly nick pulled the brief case from underneath him, their wasn’t much a lot of bissness documents and forms but in his hurried surrch he found one useful thing, a fountain pen, it wasn’t the worst thing he had had to work with. Quickly he set the brief case in the seat next to him and pulled down the table from behind the seat in front of him.
    Opening and unscrewing the pen he dumped the ink it into the briefcase and snapped the case shut quickly, using the back end of the plastic spoon he crushed a small amount of a allcassellcer tablet thoroughly into powder. Dripped the remainder of his scotch into the pen’s clear ink cartridge, careful not to let it drip out, holding his finger over the opening he shook it vigorously mixing its contencens into a dark liquid. Reaching into his inside breast pocket of his leather jacket he took out one of his prescription pills, holding his head over the table he broke the pill into chunks with his teeth and then ground them into power mixing with the alcasselser. Hearing an attendant nick quickly threw a napkin over the powder. In the corner of his eye he watched her pass, and with her the man.
    All those drinks had woken him up, the big man trudged after the attendant on his way to the toiletries. Briskly Nick scooped the powder and funneled some of it into the cartridge with the napkin making sure the powder dissolved completely. Nick sealed the top of the ink cartridge leavening it airtight. He folded the rest of the powder into the napkin and shoved that into his pocket. He screwed the pen back together and walked down the now lit path towards the door the man had went through, his right hand holding the fountain pen twitching back and forth shaking the mixture inside, he walked quietly to not wake anyone up and watched over his shoulder checking for one of the attendants or some late night wandering passenger. A time later the door slid open to a short, slightly large, balding man, seeing Nick he looked up and gave a quick smile being polite. As soon as the smile came it left, his eyes widened and he opened his mouth as if he was choking on something. Nick threw his hand over the man's mouth murmuring the noise, he had shoved he sharp metal point of the fountain pen into his gut directly under his ribs. Nick steered the man back into the small room closing the door behind him.
    A few seconds passed and the man's gaze started to drift off into the distance, he hung back into the seat, his eyelids slid half shut, the drugs where kicking in. Nick let his grip go and started to stuff bundles of toilet paper down the man's shirt to collect the blood. The man started to speak then… his voice was far off and distant, almost a whisper.
    “What did you do?” his wandering eyes settled on the pen sticking out of his gut.
    “ Why cant I feel it now?” now he shifted his gaze to Nick
    Nick stood on the sink prying at the tailes that made up the ceiling.
    “I killed you,” he said in a hushed voice as he glanced down at the man, slightly confused. All of a sudden interested why the man had become so cooperative all of a sudden. After a moments thought the man replied with yet another question.
    “But I’m not dead yet?” Nick smiled at this.
    “Not yet. Its in your blood stream though, you will be soon enough.”
    The dieing man seemed extremely curious.
    “What’s in my blood?” Nick sat down on the sink and looked the man directly in his eyes as he spoke.
    “ Chemicals, and some oxygen.” He had finally yanked the tile away from the ceiling.
    “There’s alcohol in that pen, I mixed some alcocellser with my sleeping pills in with the alcohol. The alcosellser makes pockets of air in the ink cartridge and pushes it all into your veins, once the little air bubbles get to your heart you’re dead.”
    The man nodded his head and then looked up wanting to continue.
    “How long will that take?”
    “I …have no idea. I guessed that my sleeping pills, being put directly into your blood stream, would put knock you out long enough for me to stash your body, I didn’t really guess they would have this effect. Interesting though…” the man smiled to himself as if some amazingly silly thought had drifted through his empty head.
    “How did you plan on getting me up there Magiver?” with a nod the man gestured toward the ceiling
    “Shut up, … … well… it would just take some time… I was making this up as I went, give me a break.” The man nodded again looking serious now.
    “Hay, if you give me a hand and I could climb up there. Save you the trouble.” Nick tilted his head and looked at the man again, there was a small dazed smile on his face.
    “Alright then, Hear you go-” Nick cupped his hands together, grunting quietly with effort he pulled the weight of man upwards. Then hoisting himself up he lead his drugged victim down the crawl space to small ladder and through that to the underside of the of the plane, dropping down into the plane’s cargo bay. Just as the man had started to fit himself into small wooden crate they had found near the back of the plane he dosed off, completely limp. Dead weight… Nick had to break his legs to make him fit in.
    Nick woke in his seat with a jolt as if the flight attendant had put a foghorn to his ear, he had been exousted after everything the night before, they had finally landed. Sanding up he left the suitcase where it was on the seat next to him as he merged into the line in the isle to depart the plane, the night before he had returned after the job and replacing the tile along with the routine habit of scrubbing the place of blood he left leaving no trace of what had happened there. Nick had felt very tired and against his forethought as well as better judgment he replaced the pen in the brief case instead of flushing it, the first thing anyone else would have thought would be to get rid of the murder weapon so their was nothing incriminating to tie them into the incident, but Nick was not everyone else… and he had always been very particular about these things. Though there could be no harm, he had wiped the case of fingerprints so nothing could be traced to him; he still felt the sooner he had left the plane and the brief case the safer he would feel. Just as he stepped across the threshold onto Gate 9 he heard in the background a hurried walk toward him,
    “Sir, sir. You forgot this sir.’ An attractive short blond attendant bobbed up towards him beaming holding out the stolen breif case she was obviously convinced it was his there was no point in arguing the point.
    “ This is you first day working isn’t it?” nick smiled widely and acted as cheerful as he could, not showing some form of appreciation would be suspicious and if you meet some rude a** guy on you first job as an attendant you wont forget it right away. The blond smiled, her teeth abnoxishly white. After a seconds thanks nick blended back into the sea of strangers. He exited the airport and hailed down a cab without much notice, he felt bitter and anxious at having to carry the thing through costumes and all the rest but he had no choice if he had left it somewhere or dumped it anywhere near the airport they would be sending the bomb squad or some thing, the kind of attention that wasn’t needed sensing that any number of the cameras could have placed him with it last.
    When he dropped into the vinale of the cab, smelling of smoke and sweat, he sunk into its softness ignoring everything else, he could think of nothing more comforting as laying around his hotel room for the next three days dropping in and out of his drug induced slumber, the thought reminded nick of some restless bear after a kill trying to settle into a deep sleep. It had been strangely interesting, how with the drugs in his system the man had been so cooperative, so ready to take orders… even if they meant so obviously the end of him, he seem strangely unaware of that part. With a sigh nick patted the brief case sitting beside him on the seat as if it had been an old friend, it had been his way in, his way out and everything in between.
    “ I wonder what kind of man owned you?” nick muttered under his breath softly to the brief case as he snapped opened the case. Then he froze, petrified… at something he had not noticed before, his face staring back at him through the papers in the ink stained and blood splattered brief case, the documents where all about him, his name, where he lives, pictures taken of him by surveillance cameras walking through airports, in malls, the subway, they had been watching him every time he had so much as left his front door, they had documents recording all the places he had been to and more importantly- more disturbing ... was they had information on all the deaths that have happened around him every where he has been. Anger and panic swelled in him, nick glared frozen in a pure hatred and fear at the shiny black seal, not entirely hidden by the ink swells, and in turn it defiantly gazed right back laughing with a long awaited pleasure, teasing and taunting him at his so prolonged and now imminent defeat… his lungs felt dry and scared, he could only whisper in a voice he could didn’t recognize as his own. “The FBI knows what I do.”



    Ch 9
    Hiding

    There’s nothing like panic to blur your mind and slur your thoughts. Out of the select number of people that nick had ever shared his less agreeable side with most where too smart or would be to scared too tell the feds. But out of every one he didn’t have to think twice, there was no question who had done this, and unfortunately there was no other way to solve this. But where had this solution come from? No matter how many times he had gone through it in his head there seemed only one way out, no matter how hard he thought nothing else seemed to come to mind. Not only did he only have one choice but it was one he was unable to avoid, he felt this strange urge to just do it and have it done… but why? … It felt like it was never even his idea…









    About One Week Latter
    Ch 10
    Atonement of Confession


    Jonathan Parkson, state attorney, divorcee father, the kind of underpaid hard working stiff that never seems to get a brake. More importantly this week he is the state attorney assigned with the impossible as the defendy of the alleged serial killer prosecuted for the murder of a mother and her two children caught leaving the scene literally seconds after the crime had taken place… Impossible.
    “ You seriously haven’t given me much to work with here, have you-?” Jon looked over imploringly from the vanilla folder to the man in shackles glaring deeply into the reflection of the two-way mirror.
    “Nick… just call me Nick…” The man continuously fidgeted with his hands beneath the table. It felt unnerving how his defendant, this “nick”, hadn’t broken his glazed over expression or even blinked for such a long time.
    “Impossible…” Jon’s muttered shaking his head back and forth, his whisper was barely audible.
    “Why ‘Nick’? … I know that’s not your real name, according to the FBI before the orphanage you don’t even exist.” Jon looked up from the folder again. “What?” He seemed genially surprised at Jon's confidence to talk directly to him. It was the first time he had looked Jon in the eyes, His right eye was bruised and a little swollen, and he had a gash on his eyebrow.
    Jon felt a swell of uncontrollable concern. “My God, What happened?”
    Nick beamed, very pleased with some-thing he had just remembered.
    “You should have seen the other guys.” It seemed unbelievable He has been in there only a week and he’s already made enemies… wait, what? Jon couldn’t control himself.
    “Guys? … As in plural? … How many guys attacked you? …”
    “ Don’t matter… what matters is that no one is going to even think of coming near me without a shotgun next time.” Putting his elbows on the table he rested his head in his chained hands, staring off dreamily as if he wished it would happen. As he did this Jon was able to see nick’s hands… his knuckles looked someone had put a grinder to them. He noticed Jon staring, his expression sobered.
    “I’d rather break my fists on their skulls than have them break my skull with their fists.” With that silence a group of men wearing id badges walked into the room. The FBI agents seemed very smug as they stood against the wall… smiling like they had just finishing fu-
    “Hay Johnson! Get out of here, we’ve got a few questions to ask the suspect.” Nick leaned closer so that out of every one in the room only Jon could hear.
    “They sent their friends to finish what they started.” He smiled happily at Jon’s shocked expression, before Jon was hustled from the room nick looked back into the mirror and plainly stated, loud enough for anyone to hear but to no one in particular,
    “ No more than I deserve for being such a pawn. ”
    …
    That had been near two weeks ago now. A lot has changed what I know.


    The office was just as his foster parents had described it. Three floors up, winding stairs and brick. Warm colored paint, innocent looking, and small. Small doors. A waiting room just big enough to fit two small couches in, how the hell the movers had gotten them there no one knew. A small reception room, single desk and a filing cabinet, there was no room for anything else. And then a single glass door, ‘Dr. Gardens’ in black print edged into the glass. It was late the secretary was gone… that was good. My hand hesitated at the door handle before forcing himself to proceed. The room was dimly lit, bigger than the reception room but only smaller than the waiting room, no overhead light, only a desk lamp and the large windows overlooking the parking lot and highway beyond.
    “Parkson” the doctor had just finished writing his notes and organizing his papers. I looked up from staring to the right of his shoulder. I had been concentrating on what I should say. I started forward to the seat in front of the doctor’s desk, but didn’t sit down instead I kind of wavered uneasy at its side wondering if it would be better if I sat, I stood like that for a second as if studying the appulstery of the cousin.
    “Jonathan Parkson…” the doctor seemed pleased with himself, folding his hands in front of himself, smiling, the light reflecting of the lenses of the thick psychologist looking glasses,
    “ Why, in your own words, do I owe the great pleasure of receiving my closure from you?” I waited a moment before replying halfheartedly,
    “What do you mean by that?” it was more an accusation than a question. The doctor, smile unwavering, leaned back into his chair arms folded behind his head, the light of the small lamp reflecting of his glasses still.
    “O- come now… I know what your here for. I could tell it before you walked through the front door just by the way you heisted, and I’ll tell you that we both want the same thing and both of us can receive it from each other, so I suggest that we cut all the bull shiting out and get down to it.” I was glad that the glasses covered gardens eyes; I didn’t know I could look a man like this in the eyes. The doctor continued.
    “Closure is a powerful motiveizer, even if you’d rather never see me again you’ll stay here to hear everything… but before all that for my own sake, tell me… did he figure it all out and tell you or did you do a bit more snooping than called upon by the line of duty?” I was staring down at the foot of the desk.
    “ He didn’t tell me.” The doctor’s smile broadened.
    “Of course not, how hard is it to believe his mobster uncle dropped everything and fled when the cops start arresting his most accomplished hit men, if he’s not around to tie into the murders than it was just one big solo act pulled by a desperate criminal in attempt to spread the blame. But then again we know better don’t we… we know Nick has no living relatives. Ha, you should have had him plea insanity instead of guilty, if your seeing people that aren’t there than that’s a pretty good indication.”
    “ I tried he wouldn’t listen… said he had always known what he was doing and probable could have stopped at anytime. You twisted everything in his head…” The doctor smile twisted into a sarcastic look of concern,
    “Twisted? Me never I would never even think of twisting the qyce of a damaged individual… much, much to dangerous… no I never had that amount of work to do it was much simpler, you see Mr. Parkson when he came to me he was an empty shell of the child that used to be… a child that, in heart, had died along with his parents in that fateful crash. How the Lyones ever had decided to adopt some child so damaged I can’t understand, call it pity, call it companion whatever it was they took weeks attempting to nurture and heal his bleeding empty tin can of a heart, then they brought him to me… you could say I in a way fixed him at first, he laughed, he cried, he made friends and got into fights, but it all was hallow… his laugh, the words he spoke hallow, his mind was creating the reactions and emotions expected. He would only be human when everyone around him needed him to, and after the first few weeks of knowing the real Nick everyone around him was in no need to see how he really was, and so I made sure no one did. And because I was the only one that new what he really was I didn’t need him to be anything else, and so every week he would come into my office and slowly turn back into the shell mindless and emotionless, it was like watching someone in denial slip in and out of a cationic state. In all honesty he should have been sent to an asylum right there to eat ice cream and watch cartoons. Then my problems started to arise and I saw his potential, he was a zombie and I was to be his master and so I rebuilt him from the ashes… his mind was to week to take any kind of pain, and so I changed it… and I’ll tell you this, its a lot harder than they make it out to be in the movies, a bit of trial and error… but in the end a tweak of moral fiber here, a little heartlessness there, the right combination of certain pills and you have a perfectly cold heartless slave that will do whatever you ask, all you have to do is send him a name picture and some money every so often and all your problems will slowly disappear… don’t look at me like that Jon, honestly you’ve imagined how easier you life would be if all the people who made problems would just disappear, think of the possibilities, all of your old and new rivals… opposition no more, all your enemies, all those you hate… gone forever. You couldn’t know how proud I was of him after the first time… I still remember the headlines; ‘Family devastated, Woman Commits suicide In Home’ from that point on it was smooth sailings. I used him to pull a few favors and with a little work he had no history… no past, he was the perfect pawn to create my perfect life, untraceable and unsusceptible… but as the many years past I needed him less and less, and so in that I used him less, and without vale of constant death around him he would start to remember and see subconsciously… in his soul he knew what I was doing but his mind couldn’t take that… constantly he would be giving himself little hints on what was really going on, but obviously in the end he was all to late to save himself… its has been years now since I had started trying to get him killed, but he was always to smart… he would never get caught… he could pull someone from the middle of the mall without their friends noticing, in the middle of a flight to Chicago I’d have him do a job and no one would find the body for a week, the middle of a party he could slit someone’s throat and no one would notice till morning, I had him do every one of the float drivers at Marta-Gra and no one noticed until they came to the turn in the road, he did a friggin senator from across the street and they never even knew he was there… I mean come on, they had secret service people there watching, I called in the anominous tip and they still couldn’t catch him. God, if he had been born a few decades earlier I could have had him do the damn Kennedy assassination and people today would be debating if it was a presidential suicide or the last act of a Canadian Jewish fundamentalist.”
    “And what of your wife and kids? … What where they? !” Gardens grunted with dissatisfaction.
    “My kids? Those brats where never mine… That b***h started it all, Has ‘my’ children with the next door nahbor, then threatens to divorce me for everything I own if I slept with another woman… of course once the other woman, that whore, finds that out she starts black mailing me… then like fate a small empty shell of potential came to my door waiting for me to mold him into something cold and strong. Then when the time is right he gets rid of the whore for me… but still the b***h remains. From the first day when I had finished making Nick I programmed it deep in his head, preparing him to end his life once he finished ending off the last remaining of my past problems. The fact that the FBI got to him before he put the barrel to his head is nothing, with out the vale and the closure his mind is made for he’s at a standstill… Its like his minds in check, he knows there’s a way out but he cant figure it. The only question is, how long will he be there before he figures out he’s been used? And when do you think he will make his big, and most likely, last act?” The doctor looked over at me imploringly to quench his curiosity. I hesitated.
    “Mr. Parkson what do you think?” I was still standing, my hand clamped onto the armrest of the chair I stood next to, my knuckles white… he seemed so unaware of this, his still friendly smile glowed confidence.
    “ last week…”
    “What?” genuine confusion clouded his sick smile, this was one thing he had not for-seen. I glared into the white if my pale hands, shaking.
    “ After his first week in jail he changed, he cooperated and gave a tenement to all the murders telling his guilt and giving location of the bodies, he stopped defending himself, took any beating that came his way… after the first week the rest of the inmates had learned enough not to mess with him but the guards had never given up… after they found out he wasn’t fighting back… they almost killed him a few times. In the end he hung himself, ‘forgive me’ written on the walls of his cell, he had scribbled all these phrases and sayings on a scrap of cloth and had tried to flush it before he died, no one made sense of it… they thought it was just mad ravings, but after what was on there and what I had already found out I knew.
    But why bring it to the police or the feds, they would burry it… why would they bring back a major investigation when the one who had committed all the murders was already dead just for a hunch, why be bombarded by the press about not getting the right man or who truly is now to blame for such a large mishap as forgetting to arrest the mastermind… No, they wouldn’t do anything. So what would be the point.” I briefly look at him then turned and walked out. Closing the door behind me I rested my head against it, I felt sick. Reaching from underneath my shirt I pulled the weighty old tape recorder from where it had been hidden and threw it into the garbage can near the reception desk, slowly I forced my eyes along the floor to the other side of the room. They both sat there on the floor with their backs against the wall, holding each other and rocking back and forth. Haden Lyones held his wife her head buried in his chest muffling sobs, his face twisted in agony and pain. His face lined with tears and anger. I nodded ever so slightly to him; I spoke to him then In a hushed voice so quite I could still hear the ruffling of papers in the room behind me.
    “You have about 10 min” He nodded, his eyes shining with tears, looked over to the canister I had left at the door of the reception room when we had first walked in. As I walked out I imagined the Doctor walking out into the reception area and pausing, only now noticing the smell of gasoline, by then Haden would be standing out in the hallway alone, his wife unable to stay any longer would have already left to the car, he would be standing in the door way of the waiting room dropping the match onto the gasoline soaked carpet before locking the door in front of him …





    …


    I had let the Lyones do it in the end not only because I thought they needed to but for a more selfish reason… the whole thing had just made me sick to my stomach and I just wanted to forget it, I just wanted to wipe my hands clean of the whole matter… but I realize now that some things you just can’t clean you hands of… some things leave scars. And that is why I pled guilty to the murder of Dr. Gardens, that’s why I’ve spent three years in jail for a crime I didn’t commit, that is why I’m receiving the death penalty tomorrow morning, that is why I’m writing this down on shirt I stole from the laundry when the guard wasn’t looking, and why I hid it in the bed framing…
    I know I’ll be smiling when they strap me to the gurney, because I know the Lyones will be there, they’ll nod smiling to me, I to them. And then at that moment my scars will heal.