THE ALTER: A Psychological Crime Thriller (5 page)

CHAPTER NINE

The rain was still heavy and Ava drove faster than she knew to be safe, yet not fast enough to find Ryan. The streets were well lit, but visibility was poor. Soon she found Ryan's car and pulled up behind it. It didn’t take her long to notice a flat rear tire, not punctured but slashed.  It was a trap and Ryan had taken the bait.

Several anxious miles of search bore no fruit. Bret's car was nowhere to be seen on the streets or in the alleys. Her anxiety mounted and she was desperate for clues. She pulled up in front of Ryan's house. "Come on, think," she prodded herself. She was a woman who understood herself, her emotional nature, and how it sometimes countered her insight. She took a deep breath to calm herself, hoping for a better flow of ideas. It worked.

She was convinced that Bret was behind the murders attributed to Dr. Williams. As far as motives go, Bret was the prime suspect in both cases. But where could he have taken Ryan, his next victim? Ava’s face lit up as she thought of the one place where the saga began and would likely come to an end.

She sped off once again with greater urgency and even more distance to cover. She imagined Ryan frightened and desperate, but hopefully still alive. She also imagined herself going up against Bret. Physically, she was no match for him, but this petite woman knew better and preferred bullets over brawn. Still, they shared a brief history and she wondered if she was prepared to do what might be necessary to save Ryan, or at least avenge him.

Sure enough, Bret’s car was parked outside of the old abandoned building and she pulled up quietly behind it. The car bore new dents on the side by the driver’s door as if it had crashed into a pole. The front appeared intact and fit enough to have taken them a few miles to this location.

Ava hurried out of her car and dashed towards the unsecured entrance. The floor was already wet and she knew that it had not been long since the hardwood had been stained with rain and mud. She looked around, hoping for a clear trail while listening carefully for sounds of activity. The air had a musty smell which, coupled with the cold wetness, tingled her nostrils and tempted her to sneeze. She rubbed her nose and moved stealthily but swiftly down the corridor.

              She stood at the base of an open stairwell and memories of Ryan’s related encounter with Dr. Williams began to flow. She could hear signs of activity coming from above and see a faint yellow light dissipating below. This had to be it, but there was no obvious way up and she needed a detour. She moved through the dimly lit hallway with gun in hand. Every corner had a potential surprise and her anxiety reached fever pitch.

Soon she found another stairwell and slowly began to climb. The creaking steps inspired little confidence and threatened to betray her presence. Still, she kept her eyes and gun aimed steady above. She wondered what she would do if Bret suddenly appeared, but she also knew what he was capable of doing if he found her first.

Ava’s head appeared, inching cautiously above the landing several floors up while she turned for a panoramic view of the hallway. The light appeared from one end and the sound of activity became louder. It suddenly dawned upon her that despite her misgivings about members of the police force, she should have called for backup. Still, there was no way to do so now, not without betraying her presence.

She leaned back against the wall beside an empty doorway where the light exited onto the hallway floor. This was it. She took a deep, quiet breath and uttered a silent prayer. Her hands trembled as she shivered from the fear and cold wetness. Quickly, she peered through the entrance and located her target then jumped inside screaming, “Don’t move. Put your hands where I can see them!”

Ava looked straight ahead, but her eyes adjusted slowly to the light. She pointed the gun with one hand while using the other to shield her eyes from the direct assault of the blazing light bulb. There were two silhouettes. One stood with his back turned and his hands extended from his body while holding a long knife, while the other hung motionless and inverted from the ceiling.

Ava’s vision blurred as her eyes welled up with tears. “Oh God, it’s too late,” she mourned as she wiped her eyes for a clearer view. “Drop the knife and turn around slowly, Mitchell,” she ordered with a loud, trembling voice.

Still he remained motionless and she grew livid.

“I said drop the knife and turn around. I will shoot you, Bret!” her voice echoed.

The knife hit the floor with a thud and he slowly began to turn. She glanced behind him, desperate to see some sign of life, but there was none. She tried to save Ryan, but trying was not enough to console her. Her grief was strong, but her rage intensified. She clutched the trigger, ready to empty the clip on the one she disliked, but now felt an extreme hatred for.

As he turned, she watched his hands carefully then lifted her eyes to view his face. Ava froze. Her jaw dropped and her eyes bulged at a shocking sight. “Ryan?” she said in utter disbelief as she peered closely at the man standing before her. It was like seeing a ghost and she trembled as she looked at him. Her heart began to race and she grabbed her chest with one hand. She could feel herself becoming dizzy, but fought to remain as focused as possible.

Ryan looked back at her with a blank expression. His eyes had a calm fierceness she had only seen in the most vicious. His hands and clothes were soaked with blood and he resembled a predator in the wild. Ryan was alive, but this was a twist Ava could not celebrate. She felt betrayed and began to doubt all that she thought she knew. She glanced back into the background at what was now clearly Bret’s body. Suddenly, all the hate she felt for him disappeared.

The implications were colossal. It would take some major adjustment to accept that Ryan was capable of such savagery, not to mention be at the heart of the vicious killings formerly attributed to Dr. Williams. The man she confided in and tried to protect now stood before her a murderous stranger.

Ava’s lapse in concentration got the better of her. She was still in shock and too self-absorbed to see him pulling a gun from the back of his waist and fire a shot at her. She dived to the floor behind a barricade of wooden furniture. Before she could get up, Ryan was standing over her. She made aim, but he kicked the gun from her hand and stooped beside her, grabbing her by the neck. Ava screamed and choked while she fought the man she though she knew, but who now seemed like a man possessed. He was as quiet as death and looked as if staring right through her. His grip tightened and she fought harder, but to no avail.

“Ryan. Please no,” she cried. Her voice echoed inside his head and for a moment he was very still. His blank stare dissolved and his eyes suddenly came to life, moving about in his head then rested on her. Frightened, he gasped and released her neck, then looked at his blood-stained hands.

“No, no, no,” he repeated as he jumped from off her and backed away with a petrified look. He turned as if to run, but stopped abruptly and froze at the sight of Bret’s body dangling before him. Ryan fell to his knees and made a loud painful scream that echoed throughout the building.

Ava quickly found her gun and came up from behind him aiming it at his head. “You really, really had me there, Ryan,” she said, but he knelt there weeping bitterly with his head down and both palms on the ground. She looked up at Bret’s body and chills ran through her. “Face down on the ground now,” she ordered, but Ryan’s cry was too loud for him to hear, so she hit him on the back of the head with the gun and he fell to the ground unconscious.

When Ryan revived, he was seated on the floor in a corner with his hands handcuffed behind him. Ava sat a few feet away with gun in hand. He took a brief look around then lowered his head and sobbed, “What’s happening to me?”

Furious at his self-centeredness, she left her seat and walked briskly towards him then struck him across the face.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” he cried even louder.

Now he sounded like the Ryan she knew. Her heart began to break, but she could no longer afford to be deceived.

“Who are you working for- the mayor, Alverez?” she asked, pointing her gun at him.

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” he insisted.

She walked back up to him, placed the nozzle on his forehead and cocked the hammer.

“You’re going to tell me everything right here, right now!” she threatened.

Ava squeezed the trigger and a loud gunshot echoed as bullet flew by the side of his head. “I swear, the next one will be on target,” she threatened.

Then it began. She watched in awe as Ryan’s countenance suddenly transformed. His head bowed and when he lifted it back up, his eyes shone with a stillness that frightened her. She backed away from him while maintaining her aim. This was clearly no pretence. It seemed surreal, but scary, and she braced herself for something truly paranormal.

“My name is Greg O’Conner. He’s Ryan,” he spoke with a slight southern accent. Ava shook her head in denial. There must be some other explanation, she thought. Things were becoming even more eerie and she stepped back even further.

“Ryan suffers from Dissociative Identity Disorder, so he has multiple personalities, or alters. Actually just one,” he spoke in a serious, matter of fact way.

“Bullshit!” Ava rebutted. She was beside herself and searched for reasons to denounce this theory, but only one as extreme as this could explain what she now saw.

"It's like waking up from a bad dream into one that's even worse," he said looking at Bret's body.

"Oh God,” Ava said, overwhelmed. A nauseous feeling came over her and she slouched, nesting her hands on her knees. But she was also desperate for answers and could not risk the opportunity passing her by. “Dr. Williams' victims, did you kill them?" she said looking at Bret's severed right hand.

"Those cops were far worse than the thugs they took off the streets,” he explained. “Ryan used to visit Dr. Williams on Tuesdays because he had problems remembering his childhood. That’s when I took a peek at his patient files and realized just how torn the system was. So I began killing those cops one by one. Call it community service.”

“So you’re the borderline cop Dr. Williams joked to his friends about,” she surmised.

“Well actually, that’s something different,” he corrected her. “Williams found out what I was doing and tried to kill me. So while the good doctor might seem to have had the perfect motive after his son was killed, he didn't kill those people. If you people were paying attention to the timeline you would have figured that out."

Ava reeled at the revelation which, as incredible as it sounded, added up. She was slowly adjusting her mind to the sequence of events, and to Ryan's third person reference to himself.

"Did you kill Albert?" she asked hesitantly.

"Albert Simpson agreed to conceal evidence after Bret killed Luis Alverez,” he began.

“I knew it!” Ava interrupted.

“But what he really did was arrange for Ryan to take the fall if anyone caught on. That, and he was a child molester. The world is a better place without him," he admitted in the least remorseful way.

Ava paced the floor. The details were astonishing. She scoffed at his callousness and wanted to hit him across the face once more, but she was afraid to approach him. His eyes seemed evil and still, and waited like an abyss to devour her.

"Tell me about this Greg. Who is he? I mean, who are you?" she asked.

"Notice that Ryan never discussed his childhood or his family? How long did he take to introduce Alice? Let me tell you why he’s so screwed up,” he offered.

“Our father was a preacher, loved and respected by everyone, especially because of how he cared for mother who was dying of cancer. But he used to sneak into little Jessica’s room at night. Mother refused to listen. She was more concerned about his reputation and I guess she was also scared no one would be left to take care of her. One day I asked her if she was going to die. She told me that if she did, I should be happy for her, because she would have gone to a place where she no longer suffered. That’s when I got this crazy idea of how to save Jessica from what she was going through. The next morning they found her face down in the bath tub.”

“You killed your baby sister?” Ava gasped in disbelief.

“As soon as she stopped struggling I realized that I had made a terrible mistake. I just couldn’t stand to hear her cry night after night. And had it not been for mother’s illness, I would have killed him instead. Then mom died, and that’s when I became his punching bag. So I ended up killing him anyway. He died just like the rats in our house.”

“You’re evil,” Ava whimpered.

“Yes. That’s when I realized how evil I was. And that’s when I realized how expedient being evil can be. It was too much for an eight year old mind. Ryan couldn’t live with it. He tried to kill himself a couple of times. But that’s when I also realized that I would have to protect him for the rest of his life. And now I will protect him by any means necessary,” he added.

"What does that mean?" Ava asked.

"I’m going to kill Alverez. Then I’m going to kill the mayor," he said with a frighteningly calm conviction.

"I can't let you do that. I have to turn you in," she said jumping from her seat and walking towards him with her gun pointed.

"And how are you going to stop me?" he asked with an ironic confidence. She looked at his hands still securely cuffed behind him, but grew nervous as she wondered what this cruel persona had up his sleeve.