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Ella fought back a grin. “Nothing useful so far, then?”
“No, and I’m giving it five more pages before I bow out. There’s a killer out there and we’re nose deep in some lunatic’s ramblings.”
“It was your idea,” Ella laughed.
“And I regret it. Please forgive me.”
“Five more pages, then we’re out.” Ella carried on reading, trying to concentrate in spite of the incomprehensible prose and general lack of direction. The man seemed to jump from one topic to the next without any segues or fluidity.
What is the war between good and evil? Evil is fake, that’s why, but you do not need to tell me your logic. If you’re using God to hurt people you’re really evil. Why are people like me targeted? This is the basis of this attack. It’s not only the government, although they use those channels (police, FBI, courts, electric bill, or any other workers). They need to get ready for all of us in hell and so they are saved by the coming of God.I had an interesting experience. A large, framed picture of Jesus fell the wall and hit me on the head, almost knocked me out. Boy, did that get my attention. And someone told me that his passenger seatbelt sometimes goes off for no reason.
Ella had to take a moment and peer out of the window at the balmy midday scene outside. She needed to see something that made sense, something that cleansed the crazy, familiar shapes and contours that matched her understanding of the world. The sun rose in the east, flowers grew in the spring; underground sects did not exist, let alone stalk unimportant members of the public.
Yet it was funny, because as misguided as Gary might be, he saw the world through his own unique lens. He’d created his own narrative and lived his life trapped inside his own head. Instead of a curious bystander, he saw someone with malicious intent. Graffiti-tagged walls were not the product of bored youth but a sinister message left by all-powerful cults with social and political sway. In a way, didn’t everyone see the world wrongly? We all made up narratives and beliefs that justified our feelings and actions, so was Gary really any different from she or Ripley?
It was easy to disregard this man, but it took a mature mind to analyze how someone might have reached this point. It didn’t happen overnight. It was the result of reinforced beliefs and a long decline of mental stability. To understand it, you had to see everything from their perspective, as difficult as it might be.
“Shoot me,” Ripley said.
Mia hadn’t got there yet.
“Had enough?”
“No,” Ripley said. “I got something. This might actually be useful.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, look at this.” Ripley turned her page around to show her partner. She pointed to a paragraph at the bottom of the page.
Saw my therapist today and did not hold back. I told him about what happened at the store and he said I “acted out.” He got angry at me and said I was losing myself. I said I was going to leave and he demanded I stay. I threatened to tell people he didn’t have a license and then he calmed down. But I left and walked to the Old Brick Store. He is not one of the good ones, he is wearing a mask. I will not go back.
“Therapist, huh?”
“An unlicensed one at that.”
“Could be useful. Any word on who he is in there?”
Ripley went back to the books while Ella speed-read through hers. On page ninety-six, she found another mention of him.
“Here, Ripley, got something here. This entry from three weeks ago says:First appointment with therapist, then walked to Greenbury’s to pick up newspapers. Visited my old church. Bad memories.”Ella skimmed through the rest of the book at lightning speed, half thankful the task over, half disappointed there were no other references to this therapist.
“Grab your laptop, Dark. Check for any therapists or psychologists or counselors in the area. There can’t be many around here.”
Ella first pulled up the police database and searched by occupation. Nothing in there. Next, she tried an Internet search.
“We got a bunch of practices in Fairview. One in Masontown, one in Brandonville.”
“Too far away,” said Ripley. “They’re what, twenty, thirty miles from here? This guy didn’t even have a car.”
“Yeah, those are the closest. But the note says he was unlicensed. He wouldn’t be listed if he was working off the books.”
Ripley shot out of her seat, peered around the door into the precinct. “Dammit, nobody around to ask. I could call the sheriff.”
“No, wait. Read those entries again. After one therapy session, he walked to a place called Greenbury’s. Another time, he went to the Old Brick Store, whatever that is.”
Ripley clicked her fingers. “Gotcha. If he’s walking there after his sessions it means they can’t be far away.”
Ella was already typing away. She found Alfa Creek’s Old Brick Store on the virtual map and pulled up an overhead view of all the establishments on the same street. Ripley, leaning over the screen, said, “Look, Greenbury’s. They’re at opposite ends of the street. What’s nearby?”
