They nodded and pointed Valerie to the front desk.

  Valerie tried to calm her nerves as she approached. This wasn’t a standard visit. For the first time in her life, she was going to use her FBI credentials to facilitate something in her personal life. She struggled with the ethical implications, but her colleague and now mentor, Doctor Will Cooper, had encouraged her to use all avenues open to her to talk with her mother. He had even encouraged her to use the FBI to track down her father, though that had so far proved a dead end.

  “Hello,” Valerie said to a portly woman in her sixties behind the front desk. “I’m Agent Valerie Law; I’m here to see Doctor Mellor.”

  “Sign here, please,” the lady said, offering a clipboard. “And please leave your firearm.”

  Valerie pulled her revolver from its holster and handed it over. After signing, she was led through two separate security gates. Those gates kept the inmates of Wakefield from the outside world. Passing through them felt like passing into the underworld.

  Finally, she was led into a small waiting room with beige walls, a plastic houseplant, and a hung painting of a schooner on an open sea. It was not exactly high art. The entire room felt to Valerie like a contrived attempt at setting visitors at ease. But the unease could not be so easily removed. It had grabbed hold of Valerie’s thoughts like rot.

  Valerie sat there waiting. The room was warmer than it needed to be, and she was starting to feel a little uncomfortable in her suit.

  Her thoughts turned to her mother. What condition was she in?

  She had been imprisoned for many years, and according to Suzie, Valerie’s sister, their mother’s mental health had significantly degraded over time.

  That broke Valerie’s heart.

  For the first time in almost a decade, the worry for her mother’s well-being was seeping into her everyday life. It was consuming her, even though Valerie still felt resentment towards her.

  The door to the beige waiting room opened and in stepped a man in a black suit and glasses.

  “Hello, Agent Law,” the man said, introducing himself. “I’m Doctor Mellor, sorry for the wait.”

  “No problem,” Valerie said, trying to remain cool and calm. That was not easy when she was about to go against her ethics. But sometimes family had to come before her professional pride. She’d put her work first for too long.

  The doctor sat down on a plastic chair opposite from Valerie. He looked like he was thinking something over.

  This made Valerie nervous.

  “Excuse me for asking this, Agent Law,” the doctor finally said. “But your first name is Valerie, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Is this an issue?”

  “It’s just,” he said, hesitating. “The patient you’ve asked to see, she has a daughter named Valerie Law. I know this because she talks about her. And she is an FBI agent. I also know that the patient doesn’t want to see her daughter.”

  Valerie nodded knowingly in response.

  “So, you can see why I find it unusual that a request comes in from an FBI agent to see her and I notice the name?”

  “I’m not going to insult your intelligence, Doctor,” Valerie said. “I am Gwen Law’s daughter.”

  The doctor raised an eyebrow and said: “Are you here in an official capacity, then? It certainly sounded like it in your emails.”

  Valerie had to think quick. She had used her FBI credentials to petition for a meeting with her mother, but she had to link that to her work, and there was only one way to do that.

  “Have you ever heard of the Criminal Psychopathy Unit at Quantico, Doctor?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “It’s a relatively new unit,” Valerie explained. “It was set up six months ago. We’re looking at violent, psychopathic behaviors, and we’re using our insights to track down the country’s most dangerous fugitives.”

  “Ah, wait a minute,” he said, smiling. “The Bone Ripper case, that was you, wasn’t it? That was all over the news, but they only mentioned the name of the new unit in passing.”

  “Yes,” Valerie said. “ That’s us. We concluded that case a couple of months ago.”

  “Doctor Will Cooper was injured during the arrest, wasn’t he? I remember now. I was surprised to hear that he was on an actual in-field investigation. Given that he’s an academic. I’ve meet him a few times at conferences on abnormal psychology. How is he?”

  “He’s better,” Valerie said. “As brilliant as ever, though don’t tell him I told you that.” Valerie laughed, hoping that her friendly approach would gain her some leeway.

  “I’d love to pick your brains about some of the cases you’ve been working on,” the doctor said.

  “That would be good,” Valerie said, unsure if he was actually interested professionally or hitting on her. His body language was difficult to read. “On the matter of my mother…”

  “Yes, so, Agent Law…”

  “Valerie, please,” she said, hoping to keep things amicable.

  “I am still puzzled why you’re here… I hate to ask, but you’re not using your position with the Bureau to gain access to her, are you?”

  “No, of course not,” she answered, feeling the lie stick in the back of her throat. Valerie was always a straight shooter. She didn’t like to deceive, but her mother’s well-being was at stake, not to mention some family business that had to be cleared up. It felt to Valerie as though her mother’s mental state was somehow deeply connected to the pieces of paper she had sent, scrawled in wild handwriting.

  She both wanted the truth and to help her mom. But she would keep that to herself, for now.

  “Then, if I may ask, why are you here?” The doctor waited for an answer.

  “Gwen Law has a history of psychotic violence.” Valerie kept her cool.

  “Brought on by significant impairment due to her mental condition, Agent Law. That’s why she’s here after all. She’s a victim as much as you were.”

  Valerie bristled at that comment.

  “I’m sorry,” the doctor continued. “I’m intimately familiar with your mother’s case as someone treating her, and I know what you underwent. The attack with the knife when you were a child when your mother was caught in her delusions... That somehow she had to cut the evil out of you.”

  Valerie could feel her eyelids flicker. The emotion of those memories was always there. Always.

  The doctor continued: “So, I guess what I’m saying is, I understand why someone from your unit might be interested in speaking with her for research purposes, but it seems highly inappropriate that it be you, her daughter. I would have rejected the request immediately, but I have to say I am curious as to your reasoning.”

  “It’s a unique scenario where the interviewer is a victim of the person’s crimes,” Valerie said, improvising. “Our unit wants to know if anything can be gleaned from her reaction to this. And whether my presence will affect her answers.”

  “It seems highly irregular…”

  “It is, Doctor. But that’s what we deal with every day. The highly irregular.” Valerie took a chance, she stood up. “Of course, if you feel it’s an ethical breach, I’ll be on my way and my colleague Agent Carlson can come for the interview.”

  The doctor seemed off balance at the suggestion. “No, no, that’s not necessary. On one condition, however. Would you share your findings with me?”

  “Yes, that would be fine.”

  “And a meeting to hear about some of your investigations and what they can teach the profession about helping the criminally insane?” the doctor said, his eyes wide like a wolf ready for his supper.

  “As long as it doesn’t breach confidentiality, then yes, that would be acceptable. A professional meeting.” Valerie emphasized that last point.

  “Great!” the doctor said, standing up and rubbing his hands together. “If you’ll follow me, then.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  They walked through another security gate and then to Ward 8, where Valerie knew her mother was being kept. The Wakefield Psychiatric Hospital was a real mixed bag. Half prison, half healing environment. The decor, jumping from sterile white walls gave the impression that it was more of a hospital, but the occasional iron barred doors gave away its real purpose.

  The patients, including Valerie’s mother, were all highly violent, and some of them with long-term, court-ordered sentences.

  “Are you ready?” Doctor Mellor asked, stopping at one of several locked doors.

  Valerie nodded, but deep down she wasn’t ready. She could never be.

  The doctor unlocked the door and stepped inside. Valerie followed. This was the moment. The first time she had laid eyes on her mother for many years.

  The sight was like a punch to the gut.

  The room was dim.

  “She doesn’t like the bright lights,” Doctor Mellor said quietly. “She suffers from hypersensitivity to stimuli, so we keep things quiet as best we can and the lights at a minimum.”

  Valerie didn’t answer. She was too busy looking at her mother. The shell of the woman who once raised her.

  She was a woman in her fifties, but her wild, unkempt black and gray hair made her look older. Dark patches beneath her eyes made her look sleep deprived, and the visible veins in her arms and forehead showed her emaciation.

  Valerie could barely hold it together. She let out a quiet sob as she said: “Hi Mom.” It was almost a whisper. A heartfelt whisper that could have come from a child, but Valerie knew that we are all children when interacting with our parents, no matter how old.

  There was a silence. The doctor turned to the door. “I’ll be right outside.” He left, and the room seemed to grow somewhat dimmer to Valerie, but she knew it was in her mind.

  “Mom,” she said, stepping forward.

  “Mom?” Gwen answered, raising her head and looking at Valerie.

  Valerie smiled, tears running down her cheeks.

  “It’s me, Val.”

  “Val?” Gwen said, tilting her head to the side, considering her daughter. “I don’t know a Val.”

  That cut deep. Valerie hadn’t faced her mother in years. She had thought about what she would say to her, about how she’d balance out the good with the bad. How could Valerie reconcile her memories of her mother’s kindness with those terrifying moments during her breakdown?

  “I’m your daughter, Mom,” Valerie said quietly. “I’ve come to see how you’re doing.”

  “Doing… Doing… Doing…” Gwen repeated this over and over like a scratched record. “How am I doing?”

  Valerie was shocked at how far gone her mother was. She was clearly heavily medicated, and it seemed like she was in the throes of some psychotic episode where memories and the world around her didn’t register as they should have.

  “I don’t know you,” Gwen said leaning back into her bed, propping herself up against the back wall. Her wild hair drooped over her face.

  Valerie put her hand in her pocket and pulled out the folded sheet of paper her mother had sent. It was covered in scribbled handwriting. What perturbed Valerie the most about the writing, was that it contained several mentions of her father, a man she hadn’t seen for years.

  The words intimated something about him. Something that related to the work Valerie now did as an FBI profiler. She had to know what her mother meant. In her heart, she feared something terrible that would bring the fragile world she had built for herself, crashing to the ground.

  And yet she still searched for the meaning behind the words.

  “Mom,” she said, holding the paper up. “Why did you send this to Suzie and ask her to give it to me?”

  Gwen didn’t reply. She stared, her eyes almost glazed over.

  “Suzie said this was meant for me, Mom,” Valerie continued. “Why did you send it?”

  Valerie pointed at one of the scrawled sentences on the page and read it aloud: “The devil is inside you. I knew it when you were born. It’s only a matter of time. Your father knew, but you’ll never find him.”

  Gwen started to laugh. It twisted into a cackle. She leaned forward, her eyes wide and bulging. “The devil is inside… I’ll cut it out of you!” She rushed forward at Valerie, but a restraint tied to the bed pulled Gwen back onto it. “I’ll cut it out!”

  Those words flashed in Valerie’s mind. She felt her pulse quicken. A sickness grew in her stomach. She remembered being a child, her mother holding the knife above her saying those very same words.

  The room began to spin, and Valerie found herself pounding on the door begging to be let out, all while her mother laughed and writhed in the darkness.

  As Doctor Mellor opened the door, Valerie rushed out and raced along the corridor towards the exits.

  “Agent Law!” Doctor Mellor yelled in the background. But she didn’t respond.

  The devil is in you, too, Valerie thought. It’s only a matter of time until I end up in a straightjacket.

  Valerie felt paper thin. Like she could be torn in two by the forces in her life. She’d done so well to hold the horrors of her past at bay, but now they were coming for her.

  And at the worst time: She was about to embark on a trip with her boyfriend Tom. A trip that would require her to smile and act normal as she met his parents for the first time. They would not accept her if they knew her inner turmoil if they knew her past.

  Valerie felt she was anything but normal, and she feared that her anxieties would build and come out at the worst moment. A moment that the very survival of her personal relationship with Tom hinged upon.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Valerie exited the plane, the sunlight above scattering between the clouds. Tom appeared alongside her. This was the biggest step she’d ever taken in a relationship. A trip to see her boyfriend’s family.

  She had always kept people at arm’s length, mainly because of her own family’s volatile past. This wasn’t a step she took lightly. But Tom was worth it.

  Valerie took a deep breath of the Indiana air, and headed into the airport.

  Tom squeezed her hand reassuringly. “You feeling okay? You seem pretty tense.”

  “Yeah,” Valerie said. “I’m fine. Just nervous.”

  “You don’t need to be,” Tom said, his voice soothing. “My parents are going to love you.”

  Not if they knew, Tom, Valerie thought. Not if they knew your girlfriend could end up in an institution.

  It had been a couple of weeks since Valerie had visited her mom, but even with the change of scenery, Valerie couldn’t shake the encounter from her mind.

  Worse, she couldn’t shake her mother’s words. Her mom was sick. Her sister had the same mental illness, or at least a similar one. Valerie felt the struggle inside of herself to keep things together. A struggle she feared she would lose one day, just like they had.

  “Tom!” a cheery voice said loudly as they exited the airport.

  “Dad!” Tom ran up and hugged his father. His dad was very much like him, tall, athletic, and bookish at the same time, though about 25 years older. Valerie had an even clearer idea now of what Tom would look like in the coming decades.

  “Well, Tom,” his dad said looking at Valerie. “You’ve sold her short. You said she was beautiful, but that was an understatement. I think you’re punching above your weight.”

  Valerie took the compliment and smiled. In other hands it could have come off as sleazy or inappropriate. But it just sounded like a typical dad joke. Not that she had much experience of having a father in her life.

  “It’s lovely to meet you,” Valerie said.

  “Please, call me Mark,” he said, shaking Valerie’s hand.

  Mark led Valerie to his car in the parking lot outside of Indianapolis’s main airport. “Here she is.”

  “You’re still driving this old thing?” Tom said, laughing.

  The green station wagon was a relic from the past. But Valerie could tell it had been looked after. It was comforting in a way to her. A link to a different time.

  “Dad you used to drive me to school in this old thing,” Tom said. “I was mortified.”

  “I like it,” Valerie smiled, getting into the back seat.

  “She has taste,” Mark observed. “In cars at least.”

  Tom laughed. There was clearly no malice in Mark joking with his son. It was a way for them to communicate. Valerie had read some interesting studies about male bonding and how humor was a critical component of it. But for now, she was trying to put her insights into behavior to the side.

  The drive to the sleepy suburb of Oakston in the south of the city was a mix of questions and jokes. Valerie was on her best behavior She could mix it with the best, but when trying to make a good impression, she knew she had to pull back the darker side of her humor.

  She knew that she’d developed her sense of humor as a way to cope with her childhood trauma, and this had only become more important as she faced the horrors of tracking down serial killers for a living. You’ll either laugh or you’ll cry. Something an uncle had once told her.

  She tried to choose laughter, but it wasn’t always easy. Not with her past. Not with her work, either.

  The unfamiliar roads of Indianapolis passed by as Mark drove at an increasingly slow rate.

  “Dad,” Tom said. “We can get out and walk if you’d like, so it would be quicker?”

  “Speed kills, Son.”

  “So does boredom.”

  “I like it,” Valerie interjected. “A nice scenic driver.

  Tom and Mark laughed. “Not too scenic,” Mark explained. “We’re only a few minutes from the house. In fact, here we are.”

  They turned onto a picturesque street with manicured lawns. Valerie shuddered inside. It was so clean. So wholesome. Everything her family life was not.

  The car slowed even more as they reached the end of the road.

  The door to a large townhouse opened up as soon as Tom’s dad parked in its long driveway.

  It revealed a middle aged woman with a round, kind face. She was dressed immaculately in a flowery dress, and had a sense of home about her. She beckoned excitedly to them.