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“Why did you and your wife kill people? Did Liam tell you to?”
No, Liam acted on his own.
“So your wife didn’t know?”
I don’t think so.
“She says you planned the murders. You wrote about them and read her the stories. She said that you’d throw parties afterward to celebrate. She also says that a lot of your crimes are detailed in your work.”
I tap the question mark key.
“Your father was a detective, right? That had to have made an impact on you. Being so close to crime at such a young age. I’m sure you learned a few things too—about how cases are—or aren’t—solved.”
I don’t answer, so he goes on.
“You’ve written thirty-eight books. That’s a lot of murders. Are there more victims?”
He’s asking me things I can’t possibly know. You’re going to have to ask Liam.
“Where is he? And when can I meet him?
I don’t know. He just shows up.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
My days pass slowly. In some ways, life is no different than it was before. I wake up, I write. I read. I go to sleep. I do the same thing over again the next day. The only thing that’s missing is my wife.
At night when I can’t sleep, I lie awake and think of Eve. There’s a light outside my room; it’s bright and it flickers. No one knows exactly what it does, or what purpose it’s supposed to serve. I’ve asked. It seems people don’t like to answer my questions. That’s Liam’s fault too. Anyway, it reminds me of a call light on an airplane, only it’s large, with a yellow-green hue. It reminds me of a light I installed in Eve’s room, so that she wouldn’t be scared in the dark.
When I first arrived, all I could think about was making it go away. Whatever it took, I just needed a way to find sleep. But the more I studied it, as the nights went on, the more I watched it pulsate, the more I realized everything has its rhythm. Everything has a story to tell. And everything eventually finds its way back around.
Often I lay awake, timing my words and my thoughts to the cadence of that light. I wonder if Eve has something similar outside her door. I hope she does.
The only good thing about our separation is I have more time to write. My publisher signed me for a three-book deal. Funny how that works out. I can’t receive the royalties, of course. They go to a fund for the victims’ families. I have another book in mind, but before I sign a deal for that one, I’m throwing in a caveat. Some of the money has to go toward upgrading Eve’s care. I have a feeling that’ll work itself out. These things usually do.
Eve was big into yoga before the kids. Before life got out of hand. I doubt they have that at any state hospital. I’ve been thinking a lot about it, about how to make her comfortable until we can be together again.
I would do anything for her, even yoga. Early on, she did that thing most couples do, where she tried to drag me into it. She used to talk about it nonstop, the way people do when they love a thing, as though she felt that if she just hammered it enough, something would stick. So by osmosis, or her mouth, I learned more than enough about the practice. Oneness, in yogic philosophy, means unity, non-separation: me and you, us and nature, all of us. There’s a science to it too—quantum physics demonstrates that what we thought were separate particles are actually connected waves of energy with no beginning and no end.
When I write this out, the doctor asks, “Are you trying to justify murder with physics?”
Stranger things have happened.
He comes every day now, although I’m only allotted three sessions a week. I don’t know if he knows that I know this, or exactly what it is he wants. It’s important to find out a person’s motivations, but I’m in no hurry. Today, he looks at me with interest, but there’s something else in his expression. Something I can’t quite explain. Today I throw him a bone. I get to the point rather quickly, the way he prefers. What do you know about quantum entanglement?
“Quantum entanglement is the physical phenomenon that occurs when a pair or group of particles is generated, interact, or share spatial proximity in a way that the quantum state of each particle of the pair or group cannot be described independently of the state of the others, including when the particles are separated by a large distance…isn't that right?”
Exactly.
“You used to ask your victims questions before you killed them.”
Liam did that.
“Right, Liam. Is that who is writing to me now?”
He set my house on fire and shot me in the face. It had better not be.
“You wrote that Liam was after fame.”
