Tabula Rasa (17 page)

By this point, we were in the foyer, easing our way into the belly of
the house. “Here, let me take your coats,” she said.

“Millie, for God’s sake, I live in the same house you do,”
Frank said, a similar, though more brusque accent flowing from his
own mouth. Frank looked like an older version of Shannon, if Shannon
were to stop working out and gain about thirty pounds, go gray, and
take up pipe smoking. He was similarly dressed to his wife in a nice
understated navy suit and a tie. They looked as if they were about to
attend church.

I wondered if he dressed this way for his work or if Millie had made
him put something nice on for dinner.

“Oh, are these for me?” Millie asked, gushing at the roses and
inhaling the fragrance wafting off the pale pink blooms. “You
didn’t have to bring me flowers.”

“Let me put them in some water for you.” Shannon deftly escaped
to the kitchen with the roses and an empty vase he grabbed off a side
table on his way.

Millie turned her attention to me. “And you must be the girl. My
rude son didn’t even tell me your name!”

I could tell by her tone, that she didn’t really believe Shannon to
be rude at all. It was just the good-natured ribbing that happened in
families. These people were not what I’d expected. At the very
least, I’d expected them to be cold and distant. Frank was a bit
reserved, but not cold.

“I’m Elodie.”

“Well, that’s a lovely name. Shannon hasn’t ever brought a girl
home before,” she said, leading me toward the living room. “And
I’ve been dying to show off his baby pictures.”

“Mother, I will kill you,” Shannon called out from the kitchen.

For a moment I was actually terrified for her, but then I realized
Shannon was just playing the role of embarrassed son. He had no
intention of killing her for showing me baby pictures. I doubted he
cared one way or the other about me seeing the photos. It was just
part of the mask, the play he starred in where he was like everyone
else.

“Oh, nonsense,” she shouted back toward the kitchen. “You
wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Could they really not see the cold dark spot inside their son? Were
they that blind? Frank wasn’t as animated as Millie, but even he
seemed excited to see his son and to learn he’d brought a girl
home. I imagined they were both marking time in their head, planning
imaginary weddings and buying imaginary baby outfits for the
grandchildren that I surely would dutifully deliver for them.

In the living room, Frank retreated to a brown leather chair in the
corner out of the way, while Millie led me to the couch. She pulled
out a big family photo album stuffed to near exploding with pictures.
On the red leather cover in gold lettering, it read, “Mercer Family
Memories.”

“All the gory details are in here,” Millie said, winking at me.

I could tell she’d been waiting years to show some poor woman the
story of Shannon’s early years in pictures. Though I was also
certain I knew far more gory details than his mother would ever be
privy to. I couldn’t imagine how much it would break her heart to
know the truth. Even if I were desperate, I wouldn’t have had the
will to tell his parents or seek their help. I doubted they’d
believe me anyway.

Then I was inundated with photos of practically every mundane second
of Shannon’s life. If these images were to be believed, he really
did have a near-perfect childhood. I suddenly wished I had photos of
my own childhood, but I doubted they’d be like this—judging from
my dossier, at least.

In the photo album were the obligatory splashing naked baby in the
bathtub pictures, the eating solid foods for the first time pictures,
some funny pictures of him in a giant wooden bowl that made him seem
freakishly tiny by comparison, the bumbling toddler years, birthday
party pictures, and Christmas after Christmas.

Shannon seemed so sweet and adorable as a baby and toddler. As he
grew through the photographs, he became a bit more stoic and
detached.

“He gets all that seriousness from his father,” Millie said.

I glanced at Frank and wondered if he was secretly a sociopath, too.
Were Millie and Shannon just his camouflage? Did this run in
families? Shannon seemed to believe he’d been born this way, so
where had it come from? Certainly not from Millie unless she was the
world’s best actress.

And yet I was sure if Frank were a predator, Shannon would have
easily been able to spot it. And Frank would have just as easily
spotted the traits in his son. No, Frank would be as horrified as his
wife to learn what his son was.

“Did Shannon tell you he served our country in the military?”
Frank asked, beaming and animated for the first time of the evening.

I wasn’t sure what Shannon wanted me to say, but this must be a
safe enough topic. I was sure his parents had no idea what exactly
he’d been doing in the military, but they seemed so proud of him
and their vague notion of their son the soldier fighting to protect
our freedoms. Over the fireplace mantel was a large framed photo of
Shannon in his formal dress uniform.

Even though I knew it was foolish to feel anything for someone like
Shannon, I couldn’t help it. Seeing him like that, my heart leaped
up into my throat. There was something about a man in uniform.

Shannon appeared in the doorway then. “Mom, I put your flowers on
the table in the foyer.”

“Thank you, dear. Dinner’s ready if everyone would like to come
into the dining room,” Millie said.

She’d made a roast in a creamy gravy and mashed potatoes and green
beans and a salad. And she’d pushed something called
sweet tea
on me with extreme insistence.

“Those beans are from Millie’s garden out back,” Frank said as
he took his seat at the head of the table. “She canned a whole mess
of them. Shannon, you and Elodie need to take a few jars back with
you.”

“Oh yes, you really have to,” Millie said. Then she turned to me.
“Have you ever had green beans from the garden, Elodie?”

I felt frozen, my blood turning cold in my veins all of a sudden. I’d
been about to automatically say ’No, Ma’am, I haven’t’, when
it occurred to me that perhaps I had. I just didn’t remember if I
had. It was moments like this I’d been dreading: everything rolling
along just fine until some small innocuous thing reminded me of how
different I was. Everyone at the table watched expectantly, waiting
for my answer.

“No, Ma’am, I haven’t,” I went ahead and said. It may or may
not be true, but from my perspective it was true enough for the
moment.

“So,” Millie said, “How did you two meet?”

I was happy to let Shannon field this one.

“At an amusement park.”

I nearly choked on my green beans, which were as wonderful as
advertised. She’d added some kind of oil to them and sugar, which
made the flavors pop.

“Oh?” Millie said. “An operational one, or one of the ones you
and your friends like to explore?”

“It was operational. We were both there alone on a special
lovebirds discount day and we pretended to be a couple to get the
discount. Then we spent the day together in the park. By the time
they started shooting off fireworks that night, I was smitten.”

Millie sighed. “I love that story.”

I loved it, too. Too bad it wasn’t true. But somehow I doubted,
I
killed the man she was with in an abandoned amusement park castle,
disposed of the body, and basically kidnapped her, and now she can
never leave me
, would be as charming.

The rest of dinner was as delicious as it looked. Shannon’s mom was
quite the cook, which was hard to believe, given how fit she was. But
I had a feeling she’d made this dinner special for Shannon and that
these were some of his favorite foods.

I was grateful I didn’t have to talk much about myself. Millie and
Frank asked the polite questions about what I did for a living and
where I’d gone to school. I took Shannon’s advice and stuck to
script, deviating only in the places that might give me away, though
I was sure I looked nothing like the photos of me that had made the
news network rounds months ago. And how many people would remember
anyway? At best, I would look vaguely familiar. They’d be sure
they’d seen me somewhere, but couldn’t quite remember where.

I still found it hard to believe Shannon had recognized me and Trevor
immediately in the castle. But Shannon had probably been trained to
notice details in a way most hadn’t. And then there was the endless
perceptiveness that had been required in his childhood just to
survive it with his mask of normality intact.

After dinner, Millie brought out coffee and a chocolate silk pie. I
wasn’t sure I had room for it, but she insisted.

“So, how serious is it?” Millie asked, aiming her question
directly at Shannon.

She was certainly a nice woman, but I was sure Shannon could have
brought in a bag lady off the street and Millie would have been
equally excited that her nice boy had finally found someone.

“Mom,” Shannon hedged.

“I mean it. I want to help plan a wedding. I want to dance at my
son’s wedding. I want grandchildren! How much longer will I have to
wait for all that?”

I wondered if I could in fact have children. Trevor had said I
couldn’t but that was probably all part of his elaborate lie. Had
he really gotten the snip? Maybe the reason he wouldn’t let me
handle the food was he’d been slipping birth control into it.

“Can’t you just be happy I’m seeing someone?” Shannon asked,
clearly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken.

Millie switched her attention to me. “Elodie, would you marry him
if he asked you to?”

“I... um...” I didn’t know what Shannon wanted me to say. I was
pretty sure if he wanted to continue this charade to coddle his
mother’s fantasies that I wouldn’t have much choice in the
matter.

“Mom, don’t put her on the spot. You’re making her
uncomfortable. We haven’t discussed the subject. This is still new.
I promise if we do, you’ll be the first person to hear about it.”

After that, the rest of dessert and coffee went smoothly. Frank let
Millie carry most of the conversation. When everyone was finished
eating, I was surprised to see him collect the dinner plates and take
them to the kitchen. From the beginning, he’d struck me as the kind
of guy that went to watch football immediately after dinner, leaving
the women to clean up after the meal they’d cooked.

“I’ve never met a man who loves washing dishes, but Frank does.
He also does his own laundry. Did I get a keeper or what?” she
asked.

How these two people’s genes had mingled to create Shannon was
probably one of the universe’s strangest mysteries.

We didn’t linger long after dinner, Shannon made an excuse, saying
he had to get some work done. I wondered what his family thought he
did for a living now that he was out of the military.

“Well, that was bracing,” I said as Shannon started the car.

“They mean well. You did good in there.”

I knew there could still be some secret abuse that I wasn’t aware
of. But from what I’d seen, they really did seem to love Shannon.
They were proud of him, almost achingly so, and believed him to be a
good man, a hero even. And in some twisted sense, I knew that was
true, both for me and for the country at large.

“What are you thinking?” Shannon asked.

I stared out the window at the nice houses with well-manicured lawns,
not unlike the neighborhood Shannon lived in, though it was a bit of
a drive to get to his parents’ house since they lived in Savannah,
while his house was in a smaller town nearby. “I just don’t
understand how you could have been raised by people like that and be
what you are.”

Shannon frowned. “It’s not as if they made no difference. In a
different environment I would have turned out far worse.”

“What’s worse than being a killer?” For a moment, I almost
thought I’d wounded him somehow and felt guilty for it. Then I
wondered if he was just manipulating my emotions. Didn’t sociopaths
do that?

“I’m not out slaughtering innocents, Elodie. The world is better
off without the people I’ve killed. The people I kill deserve to
die, and I enjoy killing them. It’s win-win for everybody who
matters.”

There it was. Everybody who matters. For now, his family mattered
enough that he wouldn’t slaughter them unless pushed into a corner.
And the white cat mattered. And I mattered. For now, for whatever
reason, I might matter enough that he’d be unwilling to kill me in
almost any scenario, but I wasn’t sure how secure being in the
everybody who matters
circle really was. I wanted to believe
it was secure, because God knew I needed
something
secure.
Even if it was amoral.

Chapter Seven

When we got home, Shannon fed the white cat then took me to the
basement. He’d cleaned up down here. It was so clean the place
nearly sparkled and seemed new. The dark brown hardwood floors were
especially shiny and nice as if he’d spent hours down here
polishing them to a high finish.

Off my confused expression at the state of the space, Shannon said,
“Sometimes I can’t sleep. When I can’t sleep, I clean.”

That explained a lot about why his house was so irritatingly shiny
all the time. I wondered how bad his insomnia was and if he’d given
me my own room because of it.

“Why don’t you sleep?” I asked.

He shrugged. “My mind stays busy. Planning jobs, thinking of
possible things that can go wrong and planning for those
contingencies.”

“Oh.” So, not guilt, then. I’d thought perhaps that
subconsciously at least he might have some guilt. Somehow I’d
convinced myself that deep deep down his work was eating him up
inside as well as the fact that I was more or less his hostage. I
really wasn’t fully sure on that point. I had felt—up until the
other night at least—like his house guest. Now I wasn’t sure what
I was beyond...
his
in all the finality such a proclamation
implied.