Elysium Dreams

Ericson’s.”

  “He’s a doctor,” Lucas said.

  “He’d know that his daughter wasn’t actually his daughter,” I said.

  “Do you think Dr. Ericson is our serial killer or that he just made his wife disappear?” Lucas asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “If he is our serial killer, it is hard to believe that he could kill his wife or Agent Arons. I’m not at 100% and I wasn’t injured nearly as badly.”

  “If he’s our serial killer, he’s suffering. Could be why he wasn’t at work yesterday. I checked on him while you were in the hospital yesterday morning. The morning you and Lucas were attacked, he came down with pneumonia and missed work that day. So, I called him yesterday morning, he still had pneumonia, wasn’t feeling much better, but said he was taking antibiotics and would be back today or tomorrow,” Xavier said.

  “But how does he kill his wife with those injuries?” I asked.

  “Because they weren’t as bad as you thought.” Xavier countered.

  “He was. I know he was. I felt the knife strike bone in his shoulder. He screamed when the second pop happened. On top of that, I ground my knee into his testicles. The man is hurting,” I said.

  “Maybe he’s a true psychopath,” Lucas offered.

  “Even Malachi would have some issues lifting a body like Arons after being stabbed in the shoulder with my boot knife,” I said. The knife in question was five inches long, double edged and wicked sharp. It was also forged specifically for me. It had been a gift from the Marshals when I officially joined. The middle section was just a fraction wider than the end of the area around the hilt. It also got thicker near the hilt, but had a taper just before the forged steel entered the handle. It was hard to get out of the skin and it would make a mess coming out. The tapered area grabbed hold of the skin or whatever it went through so that when it was pulled out it had a tendency to pull stuff out with it.

  Lucas gave me a look.

  “Ok, maybe Malachi is a bad example,” I said. Malachi had taken six bullets to the chest and still brought down a bad guy. He’d spent three weeks at home after surgery and then returned to full duty at work because he was bored at his house.

  “I can’t think of a good example,” Xavier said.

  “Me either,” I admitted. “But Ericson doesn’t strike me as a psychopath.”

  “And you have a built in psychopath radar,” Lucas mocked.

  “No, but they usually are aggressive towards me,” I reminded him.

  “Dr. Ericson is not aggressive towards you,” Xavier said.

  “My point exactly, he is courteous, not malicious,” I said.

  “Maybe he’s the exception, not the rule,” Lucas said.

  “Ok, who’s telling Gabriel?” I asked.

  After a round of rock, paper, scissors, Michael got saddled with the task. I abstained with the excuse that I stressed Gabriel out. The others agreed and Xavier said something about a stroke, so I sat on one of the tables while they roshamboed for it.

  Gabriel came back in and hit the back of the table. It catapulted me forward, giving under the force of the hit. My feet hit the ground with a jarring thud that traveled up my legs.

  “Feel better?” Xavier asked.

  “A little, yeah,” Gabriel smirked at me.

  “Good, try to hold on to that,” Michael said as he began explaining the theory of Dr. Ericson being a murderer and possibly a serial killer.

  “Except our serial killer has brown eyes, according to Ace,” Gabriel said.

  “I don’t think he’s our serial. Our serial would be in a world of pain and unable to kill a trained special agent and make the body disappear,” I piped up. “That doesn’t mean Ericson didn’t kill his wife and her lover, it just means he isn’t our serial killer.”

  “Unless he is a true psychopath,” Lucas added.

  “You keep coming back to that but you said it yourself, our serial is a borderline personality disorder psychopath not an anti-social personality disorder psychopath,” I said.

  “Because there is a difference,” Xavier said.

  “Unfortunately, there is,” Lucas sighed. “Malachi Blake is an ASPD Psychopath. He is witty, charming, easy to get along with, adventurous and functional. He can also take six bullets to the chest and keep on coming, until he runs out of blood, because he doesn’t feel pain. It is part of the physical component of ASPD. That is why Ace’s pain tolerance is so high. She is an ASPD Sociopath but less functional than Malachi. Borderlines don’t have that particular physical component. Yes, they are more pain tolerant and can still do things that normal people can’t, but Ace and Malachi don’t have the pain receptors because of their ASPD. Borderlines do, they just ignore them.”

  “That is very strange,” Xavier said.

  “It is and it isn’t. The separation is a new one and we are still working to understand it completely, but the working theory is that ASPD is genetic and Borderlines are created,” Lucas said. “Ace outruns me not because she is in better physical condition but because her brain doesn’t receive the message from her muscles that they are pushing as hard as they can. That’s why she doesn’t go into shock. Same for Malachi. But they were most likely born that way. Borderlines have been beaten and subjugated into becoming socio or psychopaths. They have all Malachi and Ace’s personality issues, but they do not have the benefit of the physical component. In this case, receptors in the brain that receive pain information and tell the body to stop. They have something like an override button, where they can push through a lot of pain, but they still feel every bit of it. They just process it different. Most of them like it.”

  “Sorry, I think I fell asleep,” Michael teased.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Gabriel waved his hand at the geek. Michael stuck out his tongue. “So our sociopath would be stronger than a borderline psychopath?”

  “Our sociopath is just barely a sociopath,” Lucas answered. “I don’t know why she isn’t a full blown ASPD Psychopath, I just know that she isn’t, but she’s close. In a battle between her and most psychopaths, I’d put money on her. There is a level of violence in her that is rarely seen in women, sociopaths or any other severe personality disorder. She wouldn’t string an innocent in a tree and filet them, but she’d gut a bad guy without a second thought and dance on his entrails as he bled to death.”

  “Thanks,” I quipped.

  “It was meant to be a compliment,” Lucas assured me.

  “That’s all well and good, but if we are going to run at Dr. Ericson for killing his wife, I want something tangible before we do it. I don’t want to smear his name just because Ace thinks it’s possible. She’s never been married and I’ve fantasized about killing my ex before,” Gabriel said.

  “Maybe you need a few minutes on the doctor’s couch,” I quipped. “I just think we need to look at him. I agree that Hilary Ericson falls into our killer’s parameters, but I don’t want to be wrong again and chase down another dead end. We have something tangible here, a cuckolded husband. I think we check that first.”

  “Who uses the word cuckolded anymore?” Xavier asked.

  “Who starts sentences with the word ‘because’?” I returned.

  “Point taken,” Xavier smiled.

  “Fine, Ace and Xavier visit Dr. Ericson. You two have the best rapport with him. We’ll join the search parties in the woods,” Gabriel stood up.

  The three of them left. Xavier and I were alone in the room. I sighed.

  “What?” He asked.

  “I’m just thinking about Lucas’ comment.”

  “Ace, you may be a monster, but you’re one of the good monsters. There’s a lot to be said for that.”

  “Do you think I’m a monster?”

  “Yes and I’m glad I’m your friend because of it. Sometimes, we forget that you are not a normal sociopath. You lack empathy, sympathy, guilt and remorse but have somehow managed to find a way or force your way
into feeling outrage, sadness, happiness and the rest of the human range of emotions. That doesn’t stop you from being a monster, it just makes you a different kind of monster. And even Gabriel likes the monster that lurks inside you, relies on it to keep him alive. Because when he goes to breach a door, he has you at his side. Not the mountain, not the doctor, but the monster, because he knows that if anyone can keep him alive, it’s you.”

  “In other words, I’m a good monster.”

  “Like Sully from Monsters, Inc.,” Xavier giggled.

  “Thanks, Xavier.”

  “No problem, do you want to let me in on the sudden interest in your own humanity?”

  “I’m missing my touch stone. I haven’t seen Nyleena in weeks. She keeps me grounded, reminds me of my humanity. Plus, I kind of liked Gentry, but I can’t mourn for her. Her gung ho attitude and nerve, standing up to me when I had that migraine. I liked her. But I didn’t know her well or at all really, so my mind says I should be sad, but I get nothing.”

  “For you, she was a moment, she was background noise. I know that doesn’t make you feel better, if you had experienced the same flash with her that you felt with Lucas and I, you’d mourn. Since you didn’t, it’s very hard to be sad.”

  “Does that increase the size of the monster?”

  “Nope, that just proves you are still you,” Xavier shrugged. “Come on, we have a doctor to talk to and bad guys to hunt down. Then we can head home, you can see Nyleena and your mom.”

  “And my brother,” I said as we stood up.

  My brother lived