Page 35 of Brainwashed
I could have killed Isaac. Deep down, I always wanted to. For a myriad of reasons, the main one being that I wanted him too badly. But he was spared… If only he knew how he’d skirted around death.
I winked at him as I left the club that night, heading for my little apartment in Brooklyn Heights. I needed to get back.
The body was getting cold.
Seven days…
That’s all it took for me to pack up and move to New York.
End-date undetermined, this work trip is sort of open-ended, but based on my conversation with Manuel Blanco and his secretary, or whoever that person—Yari Estevez—is to him, the job will last as long as I need it to.
Normally, such spontaneity and lack of concrete scheduling would irritate the hell out of me. But this job is just too enticing to pass up.
I think it’s exactly what I’ve been waiting for… Since before I even decided to become a clinical psychiatrist.
Since I was fourteen.
After signing a nondisclosure agreement, I was given more specific details about what exactly I’m being hired to do, and what will be required of me. And the excessive sum of money I’m being paid is actually only the second most thrilling part of the job.
When I heard the nameFelix Darcey, I almost gasped.
Felix Darcey, also known asThe Carver, was by far the most prolific serial killer of the last few decades. Since the days of Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy, and Richard Ramirez, for certain. We haven’t seen anyone like him in quite some time, which also happens to make him the most fascinating of the criminally deranged I’ve been alive to experience.
Darcey being “killed” by police last year during their attempt to arrest him was a travesty. I remember feeling actively depressed when I heard the news that day.
“Imagine the things we could have learned from him,”I’d said to Gabrielle, who scrunched her face and gave me a look.
“He’s a killer, Lem,”she replied, as if that somehow meant he didn’t qualify to be considered interesting.“He deserves to be dead for what he did.”
Like you wouldn’t have defended him for the right price, I’d thought. But I kept that comment to myself, knowing it would only cause a fight I had no desire to delve into.
“I’m just saying… to be able to get inside his mind would be thrilling. He’s a rare case of humanity.”
She’d flopped over in my bed and scoffed.“Who wouldwantto be inside the mind of a vicious psychopath?”
Well, that person is now on his way to a remote island off the coast of Long Island, New York, to do just that.Because much to my own enthrall, Felix Darcey is very muchalive. And I’ve been hired to examine him.
An emotion I haven’t felt in so long it almost startles me, weaves its way around my stomach. I think it’s jittery excitement, and I remind myself to remain professional as the ferry coasts through the ocean.
I’m seated alone on the large passenger transport boat. The only other person around is the man who picked me up at LaGuardia Airport. I’m not even sure of his name… He hasn’t spoken a word to me.
I’m fine with the no chit-chat. As we know, it’s my least favorite thing.
But also, I’m more consumed by my own thoughts right now, and I need to sort and file them, to ensure that when I arrive and finally meet Manuel Blanco face-to-face, I’m my typical, immensely professional self. The eagerness I have inside me to do this job needs to be stowed. The work is too important to be blundered by my own inner zeal, which honestly feels more juvenile than what I’m used to.
I’m not surprised, though. For more than half my life, I’ve been wanting to do exactly what I’ll be doing on this strange island… within the walls of a prison that’s been expertly kept secret from public knowledge.
Alabaster Penitentiary…The name alone comes with it an image. One of a dark and dreary locale inhabited by the world’s most heinous criminals, all of whom the world believes to be dead.
It’sfascinating, all of it. I’m interested in which other inmates are locked away in Alabaster Penitentiary, yet it’s an inquiry that will have to remain just that.
My chief concern is The Carver.
Scrolling through emails on my phone, my mind wanders back to my conversation with Trevel the other day. Our last session for a while. He was understandably distraught when finding out I was referring him to a colleague in my absence.
“I don’t want to see anyone else, though,”he’d gasped while yanking his hair at the roots and pacing around my office.“You’re the only one I trust.”
“I understand that, Trevel.”I nodded.“And I sympathize. Unfortunately, this job is one that I can’t pass up.”He let out a scoff of skepticism, shaking his head as my eyes followed him back and forth.“You’ll be in great hands with Dr. Callahan.”
