Page 46 of Absent Feeling

“Anysign of him?” Simon asked.

Ambershook her head. “I can’t see any movement in the house.”

“Westill need to be careful,” Simon said. “Here.”

Hepassed her his spare sidearm. Amber took it gingerly, but she’d trained forthis. She checked it, making sure that it was ready to fire if needed. She knewwhat she was doing now.

Sheand Simon approached the front door together. They didn’t stand straight infront of it because that would have exposed them to the danger of shots comingfrom the inside. Simon hammered on the door while Amber covered him.

“GideonAdams! This is the FBI! Open up!”

Therewas no response from inside, no sign that Gideon was about to come to the doorto reply to them. There was no real sign that he was even there, but thatdidn’t seem to deter Simon.

“GideonAdams! Open up! This is your last chance!”

Therewas still no answer. To Amber’s surprise, Simon took a step back and kicked thedoor, hard. Amber heard wood splintering as the lock gave way, the doorswinging open to reveal the interior of a simple, suburban house, one that hadbeen cleaned thoroughly but which still looked as though it had barely beentouched beyond that in years. The whole place had a feeling that was almostlike being in a museum, with the sense of something preserved from the past.

Therewere pictures on the walls of a family. Amber already knew Gideon’s face fromthe file she’d taken from the Guisborough Wellness Institute. He had a hauntedexpression, deep, almost hollow eyes, and dark hair that combined to make himlook brooding in every photograph. He seemed taller than most of his family,wiry but still strong looking.

Ambertried to keep her focus on the house around her, looking out for any spot thatGideon might jump out from. She was here to back Simon up now, here to helptake down a killer. Her training was kicking in, so that she moved smoothly inSimon’s wake, covering all the angles that he couldn’t.

Theymade their way through the ground floor, clearing it room by room. It appearedto be completely empty, but there was one spot in the living room that madeAmber and Simon stop, staring at it.

Therewas a red stain on the carpet, one that initially horrified Amber, sure that itmust be blood. Yet the shape there was far more regular than any blood spattercould have been. It was a shape Amber knew, a shape that she’d seen before intoo many crime scene photographs now.

“He’srecreated the inkblot pattern here,” Amber said, barely able to believe it. “Thisis … what? The spot where he killed his sister? But he’s put in his map of theWellness Institute.”

“Thatplace must havereallygotten into his head,” Simon said. “But we haveour proof now that it’s him.”

“Westill need to find him,” Amber said.

“Hecould still be here somewhere,” Simon said. “We need to keep searching.”

Theyheaded upstairs. Amber was still trailing Simon, still covering the angles incase Gideon came running down the stairs at them.

Atthe top of the stairs, they started to clear the bedrooms, one by one. Theredidn’t seem to be anyone in them. Each room seemed untouched, abandoned, leftas it had been at the moment when Gideon had killed his sister.

Atlast, only one room remained. Amber could feel her heart in her mouth as sheand Simon pushed into it. She was ready for this to be the moment when helashed out, trying to kill them.

Therewas no sign of Gideon in there, just as with the other rooms. Therewas,however,something that made Amber stop and stare, unable to take her eyes from it.

Acork board all but filled one wall, photographs pinned to it, pieces of paperbeside each one. Amber recognized the faces of the victims so far, and itseemed that accusations had been scrawled next to them in red ink. There weretimes and dates, listing the moments when Gideon had been incarcerated, when hehad been judged insane, when he had been confined to his room. There weredozens of grievances and at least half a dozen photographs, set out in a line.

“He’sworking his way along them,” Amber said. “Look!”

Gideonhad drawn large, red crosses across the pictures of those he’d killed so far.He’d even added a picture of Constance Banks next to an older one of herhusband, crossing both out at once.

“Thatmeans thatthismust be his next victim,” Amber said, going to the nextphotograph in the line. It was of a man in his fifties, unremarkable looking,but the list of grievances next to his name seemed to be longer than any of theothers, listing everything from withholding food to deliberately giving Gideonthe wrong medication.

“Doyou think there’s any truth to any of this?” Amber asked. The possibility thatthere might be was horrifying in itself.

“Thisman is obviously mad,” Simon said.

“Hewas diagnosed with a personality disorder and then with possibleschizophrenia,” Amber replied. “I have his case file with me. But is it stillpossible that he was mistreated in there?”

“It’spossible,” Simon said. “It’s something that will need to be investigated, butnot now, Amber, and not by us. For now, we need to focus on getting to his nextvictim before him. We’ll need to call in the local PD to cover the homes of theothers, but I want to get to this one first. Is there a name there?”

Ambernodded, looking at the list of grievances, trying to ignore the details ofeverything Gideon Adams said had happened to him and focus only on the name inthe midst of it.

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