Chapter 9


    Detective Alicia led me to a room that was now set up with a bunch of equipment and there were a lot


    of people in the room being questioned, others were going through files and papers, typing on their


    MacBooks. A young officer looked up from hisptop towards me and back at the screen.


    “Please have a seat, Miss. Frazier.” Detective Alicia pointed at the chair as she settled in the chair


    across from it. She had a memo pad and a pen in herp. “How are you doing today?”


    “I’m good, Detective. Thanks for asking.”


    “I have some questions so let’s get it over with.” She said. “How was David’s behavior usually?”


    “He liked to pick fights with the other patients. Harassed most of the staff. Frankly speaking, I don’t


    think anyone here would miss him in the slightest.” There, I said the truth. Just because Dave was


    dead, didn’t mean we had to pity him. He got what he deserved.


    Detective Alicia nodded, scribbling something in her notepad. “When he had a fight with Jackson


    Wolfe, you were a witness. Is that correct?”


    “Yes.” I responded. “I saw how Dave mocked Jackson about his mother and that put him in a rage.”


    I was momentarily disturbed by her scrawling so I stopped talking which is when she nced up from


    her writing pad. “Go on please.”


    “Jackson pummeled Dave to the floor and he was bleeding.” I said.


    “And then?” She pressed.


    “He was taken to the istion room where he was kept for about four or five days while Dave was


    getting treated for the injuries.” I informed her. “I honestly think it wasn’t Jackson’s fault at that time.


    Dave liked to pick on Jackson every chance he got.”


    “So you think killing Dave was a genius option?” She asked and I was caught off guard with that


    question.


    “Of course not.” I said. “But is it really Jackson who is responsible for this?”


    “We are not sure, but the investigation is going on. As soon as we have information, we will take him


    into custody.” She pushed a man file towards me. “These are some of the murders that happened a


    year back and supposedly, Jackson is responsible for them although there’s no evidence. If it really is


    Jackson whomitted those murders, he is clever enough not to leave any traces.”


    I scanned the top of the file, flipped it open and I instantly wished I hadn’t. On the first page was a


    picture of a woman. Her arms weren’t in the right angle, but when I looked closely, her right hand was


    attached to the left arm and her left hand was attached to the right, sewed together. Her eyes sunken


    back into hollows. The eyeballs ced neatly in her outstretched palm. The body looked like a Barbie


    doll that was badly yed with. Another picture showed a man crucified against the wall, his eyes as


    usual were the same; empty and hollow.


    Alicia flipped more pages and pointed at another picture where the same woman was lying face down


    with bite marks over her back.


    I shuddered. “Isn’t this confidential?”


    Alicia waved her hand in dismissal. “This stuff is all over the news and the inte. It’s not confidential


    information anymore.”


    “I see.”


    “Since Jackson is under your care, I want you to check his behavior and inform us if he says something


    out of the ordinary. Any valuable information that may help us because we are pretty sure he is the


    one.”


    The problem was Jackson was never normal.


    Jackson was seated in a hospital room. A Blood pressure cuff was wrapped around his arm to record


    his pulse, along with rubber tubes ces over his chest abdomen to check his breathing rate and


    finally, two metal tes attached to his fingers to check if was sweating due to nervousness. The wires


    were connected to theptop which was attached to another rectangle box shaped device. I instantly


    knew it was a polygraph test. It was a device that instantly proved if the used person was lying or


    telling the truth by checking their heart rate or pulse but Jackson seemed rxed, like he wasn’t just


    going to answer a lie detecting test, but ready to watch a movie on his couch. I wondered how a person


    used of such atrocious crimes could act soid back.


    Or maybe it wasn’t an act at all. Maybe Jackson wasn’t really scared.


    His dark eyes flicked towards me and stayed there, his hair was brushed perfectly. A smug expression


    stered over his face, a condescending look like he was the master of this game and we were his


    pawns. The overconfidence radiating through him as usual. My mind preupied by thoughts of


    Jackson murdering all those innocent people.


    Everyone was present in the room, including Aaron and Paul who were closely assessing Jackson like


    he was a rare species from another. Paul, specifically was scowling at him and it proved how


    much he hated Jackson’s guts.


    The session of the Polygraph test began, and a Polygraph examiner began asking him questions. “Is


    your name Jackson Wolfe?”


    “No.” Jackson responded and machine made a sound indicating that he was lying. “It is Michael


    Jackson.”


    Paul barked. “You’re supposed to say yes.”


    “Then, don’t ask me stupid questions.” Jackson said.


    “Are you Twenty-seven years old?”


    “Yes.”


    “Are you nervous?”


    “No.”


    “Have you been diagnosed with Psychopathy due to the incidentst year?”


    “Yes.” He responded without a trace of nervousness in his voice.


    “Did you have a fight with David the night before he died?”


    “Yes.”


    “Did you kill David?”


    He looked straight at Paul. “No.”


    The machine beeped and there was a green line waves on theptop screen. That meant he wasn’t


    lying. Everyone in the room was confused including me. If Jackson did not kill Dave, then who did?


    “Did you kill David?” Paul repeated.


    “No.”


    Green signal.


    “Mr. Jackson Wolfe, did you ughter Mad-Dave?”


    “I said NO!”


    Red signal.


    Jackson gave outugh. “That’s fucking stupid if you think you can ask me the same question thrice


    just to get a negative reaction. I did not kill that stupid fuck.”


    “Did you kill Laura Wolfe too, Jackson?”


    What does my mother have to do with anything?”


    “Did you kill your mother, yes or no?” Paul demanded the answer.


    “No.” Jackson said and the signal was red again.


    His jaw twisted and his eyes turned dark. He gritted his teeth, “I did not kill my mother.”


    “But the polygraph results say otherwise.” Aaron pointed out.


    “I don’t care what the results say.”


    The examiner exchanged nces from Aaron to Jackson. “May I continue the test, Dr. Aaron?”


    “Yes, you may.”


    “Jackson, look at these pictures.” The examiner pushed the same pictures towards Jackson that


    Detective Alicia had shown me. “Do you remember something?”


    For the first time, I saw Jackson swallow hard. The examiner noticed this but his expressions remained


    impassive. “Do you recognize these pictures, Jackson?”


    “No.”


    Red.


    “Are you sure?”


    “Yes.”


    Red.


    “How about this one?” The examiner asked, pushing a different picture towards him, one that I hadn’t


    seen before.


    It was a picture of an open suitcase. The contents weren’t for someone with a faint heart. A heart


    ced nicely in the center of the suitcase, along with neatly piled guts and other body parts and the


    most prominent one being the severed dark head ced right beside the heart. The suitcase soaked


    with blood.


    Seconds ticked by and before anyone could see iting, Jackson lunged out of his chair and


    attacked Paul, “I will kill you, you sonofabitch!” His teeth barring out as he grabbed for Paul’s arm.


    Before Jackson could do many more damage, Aaron and the others grabbed Jackson and ced a


    mask on his mouth as I grabbed for the injection


    “Riley! Now!” Aaron instructed me.


    Jackson trashed and screamed, his eyes met mine for just a split second before I injected the


    tranquiller into his vein. I had no idea how I’d done it, I’d never dealt with a more troublemaking patient


    than Jackson. Instantly, his eyes rolled back and his body went limp.


    “Whose body was that in the suitcase?” I asked Aaron.


    “Jackson’s mother.”


    Today’s dinner consisted of grilled chicken and boiled vegies. I ced the tray over Jackson’s bedside


    table. He seemed to be fast asleep; I checked my watch and the time read nine p.m. He’d slept very


    early today and that was really odd. Theforter went over his head, facing the wall.


    “Jackson, your dinner is here.” I announced.


    All I could hear was the soft whoosh of the wind.


    “Haven’t you got enough sleep today?” I asked. “It’s your favorite; Grilled chicken.”


    He didn’t move a limb.


    A chill ran down my body. Crazy ideas crossed my mind for a nano second.


    Did someone kill Jackson too?


    I walked cautiously towards his bed, one slow step at a time. Then, I grabbed theforter and pulled


    it off the bed.


    There were cushions properly arranged to look like a body. A drawing of a sleeping emoji was taped


    against one cushion where his head was supposed to lie down.


    I was close to having a panic attack when I realized he must be using the bathroom. I checked the


    window to find the bars in its ce. I walked to the bathroom and turned the knob to find it locked from


    the inside.


    I knocked a few times. “Jackson, are you inside?”


    There was no answer.


    “Jackson?”This text is ? N?velDrama/.Org.


    Panic turned to hysteria. “Open the door!”


    Did he escape again?


    I tried to force it open with all my strength, but it wasn’t enough. I walked outside the room and called


    for the security guards. I was just about to speed-dial Aaron when I spotted Paul across from the


    hallway talking to another nurse.


    “Dr. Paul.” I called out to him.


    Paul’s usually vibrant blue eyes look tired. I knew he was working around the clock for roughly twenty-


    eight hours due to the short staff. As much as I hated Paul for his arrogance, I really appreciated how


    hard working he was. He probably saw the worried look on my face because he made a beeline


    towards me. The faint whiff of coffee and cigarette assaulted my nostrils.


    The first thing he asked me was. “What did you do now?”


    “I went to Jackson’s room and his bed was empty. I mean, not empty but there were pillows arranged


    on it to look like he was sleeping and then when I tried to open his bathroom room. It didn’t open. I’m


    pretty sure something is...” I bbered without missing a beat.


    “Wait. Slow down. You’re not making any sense.” He said.


    “There’s no time.” I said as I grasped his arm and dragged him towards Jackson’s room.


    The security guards were trying to break the lock when I exined Paul the situation. Paul’s forehead


    formed a creased line of worry.


    “I’m sure he escaped somehow.” Paul said to me, and to the men he instructed, “Break the door open.”


    It took a minute for the boys; the door loosened and burst open. I had all the worst scenarios in my


    mind when the door finally opened but what I didn’t expect was to see Jackson lying on the white


    bathroom tile. The tiles weren’t white anymore; they were matted in a shade of crimson red color.


    I heard the sound of my screams.