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“If it isn’t normal, then it should be. Whenever my father got drunk and hurt my mother, I couldn’t help but wonder, why couldn’t he just choose not to drink? He always regretted it the next day. He begged for forgiveness and pledged not to let it happen again, but it always did. Did he not mean what he said? I thought he did, but he never lived up to it. Would it be that difficult for him to recognize his actions and decide not to drink again?”
“No, not really. It’s a disease. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be a problem.”
“I guess that’s a part of the human experience I’ll never comprehend,” Anton says.
Hard to disagree with that. Plus, it’s nice to think of Anton as not being fully human.
“Can I ask you something?” I say.
He nods.
“Why did you murder Madeleine?”
I won’t pretend I knew her all that well or have spent much time mourning her. But, she was a good person and didn’t deserve to be killed. I’d like to know why he did it. All this time has passed, he’s never so much as mentioned her and I’ve never had an opportunity to have an actual conversation with him. He’s never seemed to want one. There is a difference in him now — a vulnerability. Not that I expect him to care about my opinion of him. I certainly couldn’t hate him any more than I do already.
And besides, who would I tell?
“We were having sex,” he says at last. “She called out Ingram’s name instead of mine. It pissed me off.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. If I wasn’t cuffed, I might try something reckless now too.
“You wouldn’t call that impulsive?” I snarl. “You didn’t feel compelled to do that?”
He bites his lip.
“Yes, you’re right. It was a rare lapse in discipline. I should have punished her for that, not killed her. A rage came out of me I thought I’d buried with what was left of Simon. Maybe being near Ingram again woke it up. I regretted it after. But, there were no consequences.”
We’ll see about that, motherfucker.
“Does that satisfy your curiosity?” he asks.
“It’s good to know you were just angry,” I mutter. “And not that you got off on killing or something.”
He laughs, but it’s a dark grunt more than a sign of mirth.
“No, nothing like that. I do enjoy killing, but as you know, it’s not a compulsion. There’s always a reason: someone stands in the way of a goal, or they’ve failed me in some way — or simply that I don’t like them.”
No, that’s not crazy or anything. He has reasons…
“So I could try to kill you, and you’d understand it’s because I don’t like you?”
His smile widens.
“I wouldn’t let it happen, but of course I’d understand it. And you wouldn’t dare. You’ve learned a remarkable amount of self-control since we first met. Out of necessity, obviously.”
Yes, it was.
He’s right, I guess. I’ve survived this long by doing exactly as I’m told. It’s not even hard anymore — just an instinct, thanks to Ingram’s training. I’m glad to have learned good discipline at long last, but it’s little comfort now.
We don’t speak much the rest of the ride to the airstrip. However, before we arrive, Anton’s phone rings.
“Hello?”
His eyes widen.
“Are you tracing the call?”
Is that Ingram? I’ve been waiting for his next move. I had hoped to hear from him in some form ever since we last spoke on my show, but then Karthik wound up dead.
