The Dead Room

chair.

‘It’s for your protection’, he said. ‘And mine.’

‘Even so, the prison won’t allow it.’

‘Ask them. Please.’

‘No.’

‘Then I’m sorry, I can’t speak to you.’

Darby stood. ‘Goodbye, Mr Ezekiel.’

‘Be careful out on the streets.’

She knocked on the door.

‘And promise me you’ll stay clear of the FBI,’ Ezekiel said. ‘I don’t trust those sons of bitches.’

47

Darby stepped into the adjoining room and stood under the harsh bright fluorescent lights debating about whether to feed into the schizophrenic man’s paranoid delusions.

Ezekiel knew Amy Hallcox’s real name. Kendra had come to see him, they had spoken, and now she was dead. Her son had tried to kill himself after a man pretending to be a Federal agent went inside his hospital room threatening to take the boy away into protective custody. And this man was, in fact, a Federal agent named Peter Alan who had supposedly died two decades ago and was now lying in the morgue.

Both guards were staring at her. She told them about Ezekiel’s request.

The male guard, Billy Biceps, shook his head.

‘No way in hell can we allow that,’ the female guard said. ‘That man in there’s a known biter. He sinks his teeth in your ear, he’ll rip it clean off your head.’

‘Has he done that before?’ Darby asked.

‘Twice. Last time he tried to swallow the ear. He didn’t, but he had mangled it so goddamn bad the surgeons couldn’t reattach it. You want to walk around with a missing ear?’

‘It might complement the scars on my face.’

‘I thought doctors were supposed to be smart.’

‘I’ll talk to Superintendent Skinner,’ Darby said. ‘Where’s your phone?’

Skinner wouldn’t allow it. Darby kept pressing, stating her reasons, while watching Ezekiel on the video monitor. He was struggling to look underneath the table for listening devices.

She was thinking about what Skinner had told her about Ezekiel ‘glassing’ one of the psychiatric nurses when Skinner said, ‘Fine, go ahead and do it your way. But if Ezekiel hurts you in a bad way, the prison isn’t going to be held liable.’

‘I understand.’

‘No, I want to hear you say it.’

‘I assume all liability.’

Back inside the private conference room, the doors locked, Darby picked up the chair, brought it around the table and placed it beside Ezekiel. Then she turned the chair around so it was facing away from the table. If he tried anything, she’d have some room to manoeuvre.

‘You need to move closer,’ he said.

She kicked her chair next to his.

‘Thank you.’ He smiled, flashing his crooked yellow teeth. ‘You’re a very brave woman, Dr McCormick. Very composed, in control of your emotions. I’m sure, if given the opportunity, you’d rip me apart with your bare hands.’

‘You’re right. I would.’

‘I appreciate your honesty. Take a seat.’

She could smell the cigarette odour baked into his orange jumpsuit, the medicinal odour of the shampoo the prison used to delouse the inmates. He had nicotine-stained fingers and greasy brown fingernails. Those same fingers had been wrapped around the gun that had killed her father.

His eyes were no longer dull; they were bright and alive now, gleaming with satisfaction.

‘You smell wonderful,’ he said.

‘I can’t say the same for you.’

He let loose a low chuckle. ‘What happened to your beautiful face?’

‘Accident,’ she said.

‘It’s amazing how much you look like him – your father, I mean. Tommy had the same dark red hair and those piercing green eyes. It’s funny how genetics works, isn’t it?’

‘Did you know my father?’

‘Very well. I admired him greatly. May I come closer?’

Darby nodded. The chains rattled as Ezekiel moved. She felt his whiskers brush up against her cheek.

His mouth was against her ear, and she could hear the slight wheeze from his lungs. His sour breath smelled like a rancid blast of hot air caught in a subway tunnel.

‘Kendra introduced me to your father,’ he whispered. ‘I heard about what happened to her son, by the way. How is he?’

She moved next to his ear and whispered, ‘He’s brain dead. Who’s his father?’

‘Kendra said some guy knocked her up, and she decided to keep the baby. She wouldn’t tell me the father’s name. Did anyone have a chance to speak to the boy before he shot himself?’

‘I did, for a little bit. He asked to speak to my father. He didn’t know he was dead.’

‘Kendra didn’t know either, until she came to Belham.’

‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘Kendra left Charlestown before your father was murdered. I had no idea where she went – I wasn’t supposed to know, and I never bothered to try to track her down. I didn’t want to put her in danger. Nobody heard from her either. I asked her old friends. That’s why Kendra survived as long as she did. She didn’t call anyone back home, afraid that someone’s phone may have been tapped and they’d find her. And there was no internet back then.’

‘How did she find out?’

‘She came to Belham, went to the house where you used to live and spoke to the new owners. They’re from Belham originally and knew about your family. By the way, I was sorry to hear about your mother’s passing.’

Ezekiel speaking with an exaggerated sorrow, as if he actually knew her.

‘After Kendra found out about your father,’ he whispered, ‘she did a little research, found out my new residence and set up a visit. Needless to say, she was quite upset and wanted to know what had happened. She loved your father very much. Big Red was a remarkable man. One of a kind, you could say. I regret what happened to him every single day.’

Darby swallowed, found herself making a fist. She stared at his bony neck, a part of her hoping he’d try something. She’d snap his neck before the guards entered the room. I won’t kill him. I’ll snap his neck just the right way so he’ll end up a quadriplegic, spending the rest of his life in diapers and feeding tubes.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ he whispered.

‘What am I thinking, Mr Ezekiel?’

‘You want to know why Kendra came all the way down from Vermont when she could have picked up a payphone, called the Belham Police Department and asked for your father. Someone there would have told her what had happened.’

‘Why didn’t she?’

‘Police stations record everything now – phone calls, they have security cameras monitoring you the second you step inside. She didn’t want to risk the possibility of someone recognizing her. Kendra didn’t trust the police, but she did trust your father. The last thing he told her before she left was that if there was ever a problem to never,