‘The most aggressive type of primary brain cancer,’ Lucien said, his voice emotionless. ‘That must’ve been a tough blow. How fast did it develop?’
‘Fast enough,’ Hunter said. ‘Doctors found it too late. Within three months of the diagnosis she passed away.’
It was Taylor’s turn to shift her weight in her chair.
‘Did she suffer?’ Lucien asked.
Hunter’s jaw tightened again.
Lucien leaned forward, placed his elbows on his knees, and very subtly started rubbing his hands against each other.
‘Tell me, Robert.’ The next four words were delivered slowly, with a pause between each of them. ‘Did your mother suffer? Did she scream in pain at night? Did she go from being the strong, smiling, full-of-life person to an unrecognizable sack of skin and bones? Did she beg for death?’
Hunter could see that Lucien had switched his game, at least for the time being. He wasn’t interested in getting under Taylor’s skin anymore. Today, Hunter was his target. And Lucien was doing a damn good job.
‘Yes,’ Hunter replied.
‘Yes?’ Lucien said. ‘Yes to what?’
‘To everything.’
‘So say it.’
Hunter breathed in.
Lucien waited.
‘Yes, my mother suffered. Yes, she did scream in pain at night. Yes, she did go from being a strong, smiling, full-of-life person to an unrecognizable sack of skin and bones, and yes, she did beg for death.’
Taylor stole a peek at Hunter and felt goose bumps creep up all over her body.
‘What was her name?’ Lucien asked.
‘Helen.’
‘Was she in a hospital or at home when she died?’
‘At home,’ Hunter said. ‘She didn’t want to be in a hospital.’
‘I see.’ Lucien nodded. ‘She wanted to be with her family. . with her loved ones. Very noble, though strange and a little sadistic that she’d want her seven-year-old son to witness first-hand all of her suffering, all of her pain. . and I’m guessing it must’ve been something quite excruciating.’
Through the avalanche of memories, keeping a steady face had become impossible. Hunter looked away and pressed his lips together, taking a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was as steady as he could muster, but there was no hiding the sadness in it.
‘My mother worked as a cleaner for minimum wage. My father worked nights as a security guard, and to complement the little money he earned, during the day he would take any odd job he could get. The end of each and every month was always a struggle in our house, even when they were both healthy. We had no savings because there was never anything left to save. My father’s small health insurance wouldn’t cover the costs. We couldn’t afford the hospital bills. Back home was the only place she could be.’
A long, dragged silence.
‘Wow, that’s one sad story, Robert,’ Lucien finally said coldly. ‘I can practically hear the violins. Tell me, were you at home when your mother died?’
Hunter shook his head. ‘No.’
Lucien returned to a regular seating position and nodded calmly before standing up. ‘I told you that if you lied to me, Robert, I’d know. And that was a lie. This interview is over.’
Taylor’s surprised gaze waltzed between Hunter and Lucien.
‘Fuck Susan’s remains,’ Lucien said. ‘You will never find those. Good luck explaining that to her family.’
Forty-Three
Lucien turned and slowly walked over to the washbasin.
Taylor tensed on her seat, but the awkward moment lasted just a few seconds before Hunter lifted both of his hands in a surrender gesture. ‘OK, Lucien, I’m sorry.’
Lucien ran a hand through his hair, but kept his back to Hunter and Taylor. He took his time, as if he was considering Hunter’s apology.
‘Well, I guess I can’t really blame you, can I, Robert?’ he said at last. ‘You needed to give it a shot to see if I could really tell if you were lying or not. It’s only logical. Why would you trust me now? I could never tell with you before, could I? You never really had any telltale signs. You were always the one who could keep a straight face through any situation.’ He finally turned to face his interrogators again. ‘Well, old friend, I guess you’re getting old, or perhaps it’s because I’ve gotten much, much better at reading people.’
Hunter didn’t doubt that for a second. Many serial killers become experts in observing people and reading their body language and hidden signs. It helps them choose the right victim and pick the precise moment to strike.
‘So,’ Lucien continued. ‘For old times’ sake, I’m going to let this one slide, but don’t lie to me again, Robert.’ He sat back down. ‘Maybe you would like to rephrase your answer?’
A short pause.
‘Yes, I was home when my mother died,’ Hunter began again. ‘As I’d said, my father worked nights as a security guard, and my mother passed away during the night.’
‘So you were alone with your mother?’
Hunter nodded.
Lucien waited, but Hunter offered nothing more. ‘Don’t stop now, Robert. Did her screams scare you at night?’
‘Yes.’
‘But you didn’t go hide in your room, did you?’
‘No.’
‘And why not?’
‘Because I was more scared of not being there for her if my mother needed me.’
‘And did she? On that last night? Did she need you?’
Hunter held his breath.
‘Did she need you, Robert?’
Hunter saw something in Lucien’s eyes that he hadn’t noticed before — total certainty, as if he already knew all the answers, and if Hunter deviated from the truth even a little bit, Lucien would know.
‘Yes,’ Hunter finally replied.
‘How did she need you?’ Lucien asked. ‘And remember, don’t lie to me.’
‘Pills,’ Hunter said.
‘What about them?’
‘My mother used to take them. They made the pain go away, at least for a little while. But as the cancer grew stronger inside her, the effect of the pills grew weaker.’
‘So she needed more,’ Lucien said.
Hunter nodded.
A pensive look came over Lucien’s face; a moment later, his lips stretched into a wicked smile.
‘But they were prescription painkillers, right?’ he said. ‘Probably very strong, probably schedule two, probably opioids, which means that exceeding the dosage was a big no-no. Those pills weren’t by her bedside, were they, Robert? They couldn’t have been. The risk of accidental overdose would’ve been too great. So where were they? In the bathroom? In the kitchen? Where?’
Silence.
‘The pills, Robert, where were they kept?’ Lucien insisted.
Hunter could hear the threat in his voice.
‘My father kept them in the cupboard, in the kitchen.’
‘But your mother asked you for them that night.’
‘Yes.’
Lucien scratched the scar on his left cheek.
‘She couldn’t handle the pain anymore, could she?’ he pushed. ‘She’d rather be dead. In fact, she begged for death, and you were the messenger, because you brought them to her, didn’t you? How many pills did you bring her, Robert?’ Then it dawned on him and he lifted a hand at the same time as his eyes widened a touch. ‘No, wait. You brought her the whole bottle, didn’t you?’
Hunter said nothing, but his memory took him back to that night.
Nights were always worse. Her screams sounded louder, her groans deeper and heavier with pain. They always made him shiver. Not like when he felt cold, but an intense shiver that came from deep within. Her illness had brought her so much pain, and he wished there was something he could do to help.