Not What it Seems by Nicky James

Twenty-Three

River

Thirty-six hours later, I was released from police custody. When I asked the hard-faced officer working the reception desk if he knew what had happened to Cyrus, he explained they’d let him go the previous day. I didn’t know if Cyrus was still in town or if he’d headed home, but I intended to find out.

I was deeply worried about him. This had all blown up exactly as he’d predicted, and the cost to him would be astronomical. I doubted he had a job to return to, and it was all because of me. Guilt was an entity that had burrowed into my chest and had been pressing against my sternum ever since I’d had to talk Cyrus down off a ledge back at the house and encourage him to call for help.

He’d successfully diverted Grant’s attention long enough I had been able to gain the upper hand. Without that burst of courage and quick thinking, I was convinced we wouldn’t be alive.

The expression that had been on Cyrus’s face after he’d thrown the darts and wounded his ex, after I’d scrambled and won the battle for the gun, was one I would never forget.

Cyrus had saved us, but it had cost him. It had cost him big time. I had no doubt the nightmare would live in his subconscious for a long time.

And who would be there for him?

Who would ensure he found his way out of the darkness?

Would he want anything to do with me now that he’d learned where I’d come from?

I sighed. I didn’t have the capacity for this conundrum.

My body ached from long hours sitting in a hard plastic chair. My bed called to me, but instead of hailing a cab to take me home, I set out on foot. No matter how tired I was or how worried I was over Cyrus, I had something I needed to take care of. There was somewhere I needed to go, someone I wanted to talk to.

If I didn’t do it now, I might lose my nerve. So I walked, giving myself time to think and figure out what I wanted to say.

The humidity made the air thick. After a few blocks, my shirt was damp. I needed a phone. Who knew how long it would take the police to get my possessions back to me. I had the feeling it wouldn’t happen overnight. I could use my bank card now, so that helped. However, money was scarce. I didn’t think I had a job to return to anymore, seeing as I’d been locked up for five weeks on murder charges. It was just something else to worry about.

After several blocks under the midsummer sun, I decided it was too hot and hailed a cab to take me the rest of the way to the hospital. The building stood taller than any other building in the area. I had the driver drop me off at the front doors, and I made my way inside to the reception desk where I inquired where to go.

The elevator ride went by too fast. The hallways were too short. Before long, I found myself standing outside the door to his room, unsure if I was making a mistake or not. Maybe I should have waited a few days. Maybe I should have slept on it and decided if this was a good idea when I was more clearheaded.

Fighting an inner battle, I rapped my knuckles on the door before pushing it open a few inches and popping my head inside. The private room was in shadows. The curtains had been pulled over the window. The only light came from a panel over the bed. It cast a washed-out yellow glow over the man below, giving his skin a sickly pallor. His wrinkles were more pronounced under the harsh light, and his eyes, which found mine when I entered, were sunken and tired.

An IV ran to his arm. Mottled bruising covered much of his exposed skin.

“River.” His voice came out scratchy and raw.

“May I come in?”

He waved a frail arm, encouraging me to find a chair. “Please.”

I remained standing near the foot of the bed, my discomfort such I couldn’t fathom relaxing into another hard plastic seat. Besides, I didn’t see myself staying long.

My father was nothing like how I’d imagined—not that I’d spent much time imagining. We were eerily alike in many ways, and I knew what old age had in store for me.

“I didn’t expect to ever see you again,” he said, adjusting his body so he sat more upright. “But I’m glad you came.”

“Are you?”

The sadness that swamped his eyes made me avert mine to the machine beside his bed.

“I am. River, I—”

“I’m not really sure why I’m here, to be honest, so don’t go getting all sentimental or anything. I’ve spent my whole life hardly sparing you a thought. Now, after thirty-six hours of interrogation at the police station, the first place I wind up when they release me is here.” I chuckled without humor, shaking my head. “It doesn’t make sense. I don’t give a fuck about you.”

I found his face again, studying it and trying to see or understand what made this guy tick.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to speak to me.”

“I sure don’t like you very much.”

“That’s fair. I’m not a nice man. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and people have suffered because of me.”

“If you want me to absolve your sins and tell you I forgive you, it won’t happen. You’re no different than my mother. You think you are, but you aren’t. The pair of you are nothing but scum. Neither one of you gave two shits about me. You both left me at the mercy of the system. You have no idea what it was like for me growing up. You didn’t give a flying fuck.”

Terrance held up his hands. “I deserve all of that. I know. You’re right. Please, will you sit?”

I stared at the chair, shuffling my weight. “I don’t know if I want to be here. I’m tired and edgy. I have a lot to process.”

“You’ve come this far. Can we at least chat for a few minutes? It doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s not a reconciliation. If you decide to walk out that door and not look back when we’re done, I will accept that. But I’d like to talk to you. I’d like to… know my son if even for a few minutes.”

I ground my teeth, a burning ache growing in my chest. Part of me wanted to yell, Fuck you. You don’t get to call me that. You had twenty-eight years to get to know me, and you chose not to, and the other part of me was already lowering into the chair. Was this what yearning felt like? Scraping around for even an ounce of love from a parent who’d never cared? Cyrus would have a heyday analyzing this.

“Tell me what happened. At the police station. They came and took my statement, but I haven’t heard much.”

“Grant was formally arrested.” I stared at my hands. “He’s going to spend the rest of his life in prison.”

Terrance said nothing. Did it bother him knowing his chosen son was an unstable serial killer?

“Did you ever think about me?” The words were out before I could stop them. I held my breath and braced for his answer.

“I did. A lot. It’s why I kept your picture. I’m sure you don’t believe me. You have every right to hate me.”

“You told my mother you were going to kill me.”

Terrance closed his eyes and shook his head, a tremble in his lips. “It was the heat of the moment. Your mother was relentless. She was always trying to make trouble, and I’m not saying I didn’t deserve it. They were empty threats. She was hysterical that night. She came at me, screaming and hitting me, swearing to destroy my life.”

“You hit her.”

“I slapped her across the face to get her attention. I regret that. I regret a lot of things. This is not me making excuses, but I have an addiction, River.”

“Yeah. You like to fuck barely legal whores.”

Terrance sighed. “If we must make it sound so crude, then yes, I do. And I’m not proud of that, but it’s a sickness.”

“No, it’s an excuse.”

“It’s a sickness,” he said more firmly. “Like alcoholism or drugs. I never sought help, and I should have. I knew I was hurting people. I knew it was wrong. No matter how desperately I wanted to stop, I was powerless. It consumed me. Just when I’d think I had it under control, it reared its ugly head, and I was back out there.

“It started in my early twenties at a friend’s bachelor party. We went to Vegas.” He shook his head. “And now it has bled through my entire life. My wife knew. She pretended she didn’t. God bless her. I’d have left my sorry ass on the curb. I think she feared the fallout. Exposing the truth would have meant the destruction of her marriage and the comfortable life I’d given her. But the hatred she felt for me after all those years grew like an abscess. When Grant found out, when Grant approached her, thinking he was revealing something she didn’t know, all the rage that had been building for years exploded. She finally had someone to unload on. She finally had someone she could lean on and who took her side. Someone who sympathized. Someone who was equally angry and equally hurt.”

“She helped him set me up.”

Terrance nodded.

“But he killed her anyway.”

Terrance’s jaw tightened, and his eyes took on a sheen. “Grant lost touch with reality. I watched it happen. He sank so far into his plan for revenge, he disconnected more and more until all he could see was a blaze of red. His anger turned to his mother. She’d let it happen. She’d sat by passively and said nothing.”

I frowned. “How do you know all this? How long was he holding you prisoner?”

“Since it all began. Since he formulated his plan and decided to execute it. I was the first person he went after.”

My stomach sank. That was months ago. “But… how did no one know? Weren’t you missed? What about your work?”

Terrance groaned and adjusted his position on the bed. “Grant is a clever boy. He forced me at gunpoint to call my partners and explain that I had to leave the country to take care of personal affairs. I told them I’d be gone for a while and that Grant would be popping in from time to time to take care of things for me. It wasn’t unusual. Grant has worked for me a lot over the years when he deigns it beneficial to him.”

“You own Destination Hotels?”

“Part owner, yes.”

“Is that…” The pieces clicked, and I sat straighter. “The room was in my name?”

Terrance nodded. “He had full access to our system. Grant wielded the power I usually carried, and no one questioned him. He was in and out of there all the time. He lured the same women I’d connected with in the past several months to one of the private suites, and he killed them. Videoed the whole thing and made me watch.” Terrance’s chin quivered. “Made me watch it over and over and over. He told me they were filth. He said he could hardly stand touching them, which was why he decided they needed a cleansing bath. I think once you were arrested, he intended to stop.”

“But he couldn’t.” It was like I’d told Cyrus back at the hospital. Once killers got a taste for it, they couldn’t stop. How had Grant described it? Orgasmic. The urge to kill again was rooted to his core. It pulled at him, called to him, whispering in his ear.

Terrance found a small cup of water beside his bed. His hand shook as he brought it to his mouth and drank. “No, he couldn’t stop.” He set the cup down again. “When they arrested you and your mental health was in question, he was thrilled. It was exactly what he wanted. It empowered him and made him even cockier.”

“Do you know how he managed to get Cyrus involved?”

Terrance nodded and rubbed his eyes. “Seeing as the deaths had taken place in my hotel, Grant forced me to badger the authorities. He forced me to call regularly to inquire how the investigation was playing out. I have many friends in high places, so they didn’t brush me off like they might have someone else. I have power and influence in the city. When they shared that your mental health was in question, Grant ensured I suggested bringing in a specialist. I told them Dr. Irvine was a family friend, someone who’d dated my son in the past.”

I huffed a humorless laugh but let Terrance continue.

“I explained he could evaluate you and provide a confirmed diagnosis in a shorter period of time because that was what he did. It was what he was known for.”

“They could have easily ignored that suggestion.”

Terrance nodded. “They could have, except my influence is strong at the department. I have many friends higher up.”

“And Grant knew that would work. But once I was arrested, he didn’t stop killing.”

“No. He’d gotten a taste for blood, and there was no turning back. The girls from the street. I never… I didn’t do business like that anymore. I stuck to the app. It was safer. Easier. Those girls weren’t ones I knew.” Terrance closed his eyes, and his chin quivered.

“Their kills were different, but he still used bleach.”

“Grant’s anger had escalated at that point. He videoed those kills too. Made me watch. They were less organized. Unplanned. You could see the difference in his eyes, in his approach. The way the rage had taken him over. He told me he was eliminating temptation because he knew they were my type. He was ridding the world of disease.”

“And Bianca?”

Terrance pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyes swam. “She was the most recent girl. We’d met up several times over quite a few months. She had my personal number. I didn’t always give it out, but every now and then, one of the girls would just get to me. They’d be different than the rest.” He sighed and met my gaze. “She reminded me of your mother. We got close. I made mistakes.”

“Did you tell her you’d leave your wife for her?”

Terrance chuckled and shook his head. “No. I never told any of them that. They knew the deal, but they sometimes got that into their heads. I found out she was pregnant just before this all started. I was angry, unsure how it had happened because I’d been careful. I told her to get rid of it, and I cut her off cold turkey. She seemed not to care. I hadn’t heard from her in a while. Then, out of the blue, she called my phone when Grant had me hostage. You can imagine what that did to him. He made me answer. He listened to it all. She wanted to talk about the baby. She wanted to meet up. Grant told me to tell her I’d be at Destination.” Terrance’s voice cracked, and he coughed. “I knew then I’d signed her death warrant.”

“He killed her.”

A nod. “He was out of control by that time. I knew it would all fall apart, but I wasn’t sure I’d be around to see it. His mother tried to temper him, rein him in, but he got angry with her. He made me watch when…” The first tears rolled down Terrance’s face.

The room grew deathly silent after those final words. Neither of us looked at one another. The truth was ugly, and I knew for a fact Terrance would carry this with him for the rest of his life. My guilt would be a fraction of the guilt he felt.

When the somberness and quiet grew too big, I stood and stuffed my hands into my pockets. “I should go.”

Terrance lifted his red-rimmed eyes to mine. “Is this goodbye forever?”

I opened my mouth to say yes, but no words came out. My chest ached, and the burning behind my eyes made me want to rub them.

“I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “This is a lot to take in.”

“I understand.”

“You never wanted me as a son, so it doesn’t sit right that after a tragic incident, you get to change your mind.”

“You’re right.”

“Stop agreeing with me.” The burning in my eyes intensified.

“I’m just saying I understand if you need to shut me out. I don’t deserve to know you, but… I’d like to. If you can ever find it in your heart to forgive me for abandoning you, for not reaching out when I could have and should have, then maybe we can find peace with one another.”

“I need to think about it.”

“Okay.”

I turned to go, but my feet refused to obey my command. Instead, I faced the old man in the hospital bed. “If I change my mind, how can I get ahold of you?”

Terrance’s face shifted to a wobbly smile. “Call Destination and tell them who you are. I’ll see to it they know to give you my number.”

I nodded and ducked my chin. That time, when I aimed for the door, my feet worked.

“River?” my father called before I crossed the threshold.

I turned back.

“Thank you for coming to see me. It means the world to me.”

I found a strained smile. “Take care of yourself.” Then I left.

* * *

At my apartment, I buzzed Fester since I didn’t have my keys. The building manager grumbled a long string of curses, alcohol wafting off his unwashed body in waves as he walked me to my apartment to unlock the door. He didn’t question me about my whereabouts over the past few weeks, and it made me wonder if he ever watched the news.

Police tape still dangled from the frame in places, and Fester noted it with a wrinkled brow before shrugging and jamming the key into the lock. Once it was open, he headed off down the hall. I was going to mention that I didn’t know when I’d get my keys back, but that was a battle for another day. I’d have to contact the police about my personal belongings.

The apartment was in the same state as when Cyrus and I had been there a few days ago. It would take effort to put it back together again, and I didn’t have the energy. I aimed for my bed, fixed the mattress back onto the box spring, and crashed hard without the luxury of sheets or blankets. In the morning, I would deal with the fallout of this Grant mess.

* * *

Three hours into cleaning the following morning, a paper lying on the floor at the front door caught my eye. I hadn’t noticed it the previous day when I’d come home. The apartment was in such disarray, it hadn’t stood out. Someone had shoved a note under the door.

I picked it up and unfolded it.

 

River,

 

I’m heading back to St. Catherines. The police have suggested I don’t contact you, but they didn’t give me a reason why. I have a lot to deal with back home. Not sure of the fallout, but I fear I will need to explore new employment options. Also, my parents are probably worried about me, and I need to check in on them. Either way, I’m sure now that you have your life and freedom back, you won’t want this insecure middle-aged man attached to your hip. Take care of yourself. All the best.

 

Cyrus

 

I read it through twice, huffed a laugh, crumpled it up, and tossed it aside. It was typical Cyrus, and if he thought I would be content to fall back into my old life after all we’d been through, the head doctor was more nuts than I thought. Once I had things back in order, I intended to prove just how wrong he was about me.