Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“Nikolai, I want to switch back for a moment to your homelife. Your parents specifically, but before I do, let me ask you a question that may seem like it’s coming out of left field.”
“Okay. What is it?”
“Did Dmitriy ever wear braces or Invisalign?”
“Yes. He had Invisalign. I forget when he had ’em removed exactly.” He did not miss how Captain White’s eyes widened, and the two of them turned towards one another, a silent understanding passing between them. He wanted to punch the bastard in the face so much, he had to force himself not to move. “Why do you ask that?”
“I’ll explain later.” She coughed into her hand and shifted her weight. “Okay, um, back to your parents. Please tell me what they thought about Dmitriy’s psychological issues?”
“Both of my parents were in denial about the severity of Dmitriy’s mental state. My mother thought he just needed more attention, love and care. My father, during his drunken, depressed and drugged state, believed he could somehow shame or beat the dysfunction out of him—that it was just a matter of my brother needing tough love and discipline. Most of his medical records when he was in the loony bin are sealed because he was a juvenile. He doesn’t stay in one place long enough to cause alarm or mistrust, Porsche, and he’s smart. He knows how to outwit people. Though, honestly, if you ask me, when it comes to the police department in question here, outwitting you guys wouldn’t take much. It would be like pourin’ water down a drain. No big deal.”
“Now, you listen here! You’re sick little—”
Porsche grabbed Captain White’s wrist and squeezed it. The man begrudgingly settled down, though he was visibly seething. Nikolai smirked.
“If your parents were in denial though, Nikolai, why did you state they had him in therapy? That sounds like a proactive measure?”
“When I was younger, I tried to get my parents to get Dmitriy some real help. Not these therapists from my mother’s church, who only wanted to preach to him about God and the devil. That was my mother’s initiative. My father would only agree to it if he was guaranteed it would be discreet. These people, though well meaning, were unqualified for the type of problems my brother had. When we got older, I had tried to stop my brother by first reminding him that he was loved and cared for, and trying to get him to move back to Portland and stay here so I could keep an eye on him. He refused. I then began feeling he was up to no good because he was callin’ me less. Visiting me and Dad less. Being sneaky and standoffish. I could just feel it… something wasn’t right.
“As close as we used to be, certain bonds are formed, ya know? Those bonds end up being like cables that can never be cut. You get to really know someone, almost as well as you know yourself. That knowledge doesn’t go away, just because they have. I paid attention, made notes. Followed the news stories in whatever town or city he was living in. I then would call the police. I’d tell them, hey, I see you had a situation happen. I know someone who lives there and fits the bill. Check him out. Just like here, I was blown off, or the police would go out to talk to him, but Dmitriy would find some way to make them feel that I was overreacting, or lying altogether. I never gave them my name, but he figured out I was behind it all. He knew Mom would never do that. Our father wouldn’t, either, because then that would make it a public spectacle.
“Mark put his head in the sand. So here I was, left with the burden. Someone was ratting him out, and he knew I was probably the only one to do it. The only one who knew the real him. I have paintings of three ravens in my bedroom. I was drawn to them because they demonstrate myself and my brothers so well. Mark is the white one that looks away towards the sky. Avoiding what’s going on around him. Dmitriy is the red one. Maybe the red means he’s covered in blood. Looking smug and somewhat innocent, and no one suspects a thing. I am the black one. Sitting on the skull. Guarding it. But I didn’t put that skull there… I just landed on it. It looks incriminating, but I am trying to prevent more bodies from showin’ up in the graveyard, so, I stand watch. I pay attention.
“I did this for a long time. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if he was involved in these various criminal incidents in different states, but I had to alert the authorities, just in case. Then, he brought his ass back home and started doin’ this killing shit here. I knew it was him because he wouldn’t even tell us when he was in town. Then, all of a sudden, BOOM. Another body shows up at his favorite place in the whole world… the beach.”