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  The dummies head jerked to face MacNamee, eyes fixed on his. As if shot, MacNamee pushed back on his chair in fright. Connor didn’t flinch even when a high pitched voice said loudly.

  “That’s the thing about ventriloquist dummies, they move so smoothly you would almost think they were real.”

  Connor used his hand to make the dummies mouth open and close, speaking words like they were coming from the dummy’s mouth itself.

  “Hello Greg, I’m Dummyface. Thanks for bringing me to Connor, but he still doesn’t want to talk to you. He might talk to Paul though. That is, if he’s stopped lying already, ha ha ha.”

  Connor’s screechy impersonation of what the dummy might sound like gave MacNamee a shiver down his spine. The doctor hated this feeling because he was not a coward. He did not normally frighten so easily but something about this boy gave him the creeps.

  “Connor, I do need to talk to you.”

  MacNamee spoke gently

  “It’s about your dad.”

  Connor stopped messing around but didn’t turn around.

  “What about my dad?”

  The boy asked in his regular voice.

  “I’m sorry son, but he won’t be coming to see you for a while. A long while.”

  MacNamee and Crass had decided to take the sergeant’s advice and tell Connor. At the end of the day if he was wrong then it could only turn out good for Connor but they weren’t willing to take the chance. The doctors also decided on omitting the fact that nobody knew where Andy Williams was, thinking it would be easier on the boy. Connor was motionless for a time. With his back to MacNamee he sat holding the dummy, not uttering a word.

  “Connor?”

  Connor didn’t respond.

  “Connor, did you understand what I said?”

  Suddenly the screechy voice was back, Connor made its mouth move again.

  “Of course he understands what you said! Whad’ya you think he is a dummy?”

  “Look son I know it’s hard but we’re here for you, all of us, we’re going to help you get better!”

  “What if he doesn’t want to get better?” Came the screechy voice “What if I think he’s fine the way he is?”

  “I’d like to talk to Connor please dummy.”

  “That’s Mr. Dummy to you doc!”

  MacNamee smiled out of a combination of frustration and nervousness.

  “Ok Mr. Dummy you and Connor can talk to Dr. Frieda then if you want. I promise he won’t lie to you anymore. He only did so because he wanted to talk to you.”

  “Beautiful words doc,” the shrill voice rung out dryly.

  With a smile MacNamee got up and turned to walk out. It was then when he heard it, a snake-like hiss whispering his name.

  “MacNamee!”

  The doctor turned around sharply, staring at Connor with the Dummy staring straight at him.

  “Connor…who said that?”

  Without turning round Connor shrugged his shoulders.

  “Crass? Did you hear that?” MacNamee whispered.

  “It was the boy Greg. He’s just playing with you.”

  “But it didn’t sound like him.”

  Turning to leave a second time he heard it again.

  “MacNamee!”

  This time MacNamee closed and locked the door behind him without turning round. Before he set off down the hallway he had a quick look back through the window, instantly wishing he hadn’t. Connor still had his back to them but all the dolls were staring at MacNamee.

  CHAPTER 13

  Andy slowly woke; the motel room was cold around him. Heat regulation didn’t operate here, just manual instruments to be turned on at the user’s convenience. Sitting up on the side of the bed Andy couldn’t help notice the room was bigger than it seemed last night. Not that he could remember much from last night. A few steps into the bathroom and he was splashing ice cold water on his face from the tap. No point in showering, he never brought any clean clothes. The water woke him up fast. The harsh cold liquid shot his brain into action like paddles on a defibrillator. The mirror above the sink provided a sorry sight: a broken man, miserable looking in sobriety. Andy never particularly enjoyed sobriety and he especially didn’t enjoy it the last few days. The tile floor was cold underneath his feet despite the fact it was not especially cold outside. The room was getting little sunlight in as the drapes were shut, so even the stained mahogany carpet felt cool to the touch. After checking his watch Andy saw the afternoon was wearing on and needed little excuse to leave sobriety far behind him. Crossing the once rich colored carpet he picked up his light brown jacket. Flicking up his collar and stuffing his hands deep into his pockets Andy set out across the car park. There would be a bar within walking distance he thought; Staunton wasn’t that big of a place. Andy unintentionally looked more conspicuous as he headed out of his room like a celebrity in hiding. No sooner had he closed (but not locked) the door behind him, Amanda’s gerbil like eyes spotted his movements. She had been watching the parking lot for some time now and she was salivating over the thought of being the first to pass on a little tidbit of information to anyone who would listen. Hungrily watching the direction he was moving in she scampered out into the parking lot for a better look. As she watched Andy cross the street and disappear through the doors of Earl’s bar her already over worked heart raced. She had some juicy gossip at last. Waddling hastily back in to the office she used her tiny chipolata like fingers to dial up a friend. And, starting with her rhetorical “Guess what?” intro, Andy was anonymous in Staunton no longer.

  A quick measure of Kentucky’s finest woke his brain up faster than the cold water did, at least initially. The second: a large one over rocks had the opposite effect. Although feeling the familiar pang of numbness which came from his usual tipple he wasn’t drunk yet. His brain just knew what was coming and prepared itself accordingly. Years of drinking to excess had created a well prepared mind for it. Sitting at the bar, Andy’s view was only of the rows of bottles in front of him and that was the way he liked it. With a drink in his hand and a meaningless view ahead of him he was amazed at how quickly he could ignore all his troubles. Slowly, the rocks in his drink melted; the top one shrunk in size and tumbled down beside the others. The familiar jingling of cubes in the glass provided a comforting soundtrack to his drinking. They never had enough time to melted fully however, just enough to provide a little more water to the bourbon, giving Andy the illusion that it tasted better the more he drank it. As he sipped, quiet and alone, he thought about his son and if he did the right thing leaving town.

  In the city Connor was back in the colorful, toy filled room with Doctor Frieda. Desperate to try and re-establish a connection with the boy Frieda attempted to speak to him again. Connor sat with another book in front of him, this time he read a novel more appropriate for older teens as if “The Tastiest Squirrel” was simply a book he read to get Frieda to believe he was less intelligent than he really was.

  “Connor, I’ll understand if you don’t want to talk to me. But I am sorry about what happened yesterday.”

  “Why did you feel it was ok to lie to me?” Connor asked somberly as he placed the book face down.

  “It was just a mistake. I do have nephews and nieces I read to, I just don’t have kids of my own.”

  “Well then you should have just said that. Would your nephew and niece be happy you lied to them?”

  “No, they wouldn’t.”

  “But you did it to me? I that because I’m not as important to you as they are?”

  “No of course not Connor, it’s just…”

  “It’s just that I’m a patient, not a real person.”

  From behind the glass MacNamee shook his head.

  “He’s playing with him” he said quietly as Crass nodded in agreement.

  Connor picked his book back up and started reading.

  “Connor…”

  Frieda started

  “…Don’t think that way; we all care about you a l
ot here, me especially. We want to help you get better.”

  “Funny, I’ve been hearing that a lot today.”

  Connor said from behind his book.

  “It’s true Connor, you can trust us. You can trust me.”

  Connor reluctantly put the book back down again. He acted overly suspicious, like a mouse creeping from the pantry trying to avoid a cat.

  “I can?” he asked timidly.

  “Yes, you can.”

  “Well I guess I must be able to. I mean, you got my toys for me didn’t you?

  “Yes, I did” Frieda said boldly.

  From the other side of the glass MacNamee’s eye’s widened and he breathed heavily:

  “Oh shit!”

  “It was you wasn’t it?’ Connor’s eyes focused in on Frieda “It was you who got them for me?”

  “Yes I did Connor. I got them all sorted out for you.”

  “Well you see; there’s another problem.”

  “Doctor Greg told me he got the toys for me. Him! Not you! Are you lying to me again?”

  Flustered, Frieda tried his best to answer.

  “No, I’m not lying to you.”

  “Ah then Greg is a liar too then?”

  “Well no…you see I told him to get them for you.”

  Connor sat with the composure and patience of a metronome.

  “Paul, you’re getting nervous. You people are no good at telling the truth around here. How do you expect me to trust you if everyone keeps giving me reasons not to?”

  “This kid is unbelievable!” blurted Crass “He’s making fools out of us! Isn’t he supposed to be the sick one?”

  MacNamee stood beside his mentor trying to compose himself. He looked hard at the older doctor before deciding to raise a suggestion.

  “We need to give him something to relax him. I recommend Valium.”

  “You want to drug the child just to get a competitive advantage over him? Greg that’s not how we do it here, we talk first.”

  “Ben, with all due respect I am aware of procedure but right now talking isn’t getting us anywhere. He’s playing with us!”

  Crass looked at MacNamee studiously.

  “Well what’s the rush? The boy will be with us for a long while. It’s not like he needs to give evidence in some ongoing investigation.”

  MacNamee sighed and thought about his response for a long moment.

  “I’m worried that the longer he believes he is smarter than us the less likely it is he will open up to us. If he gets it in his head that we can’t be trusted then that’s it. There will be no chance of us ever helping him.”

  “And you believe drugs are the best course of action?”

  Crass trusted his young colleagues opinion but he wanted to make sure he had the right thought process before approving any course of action.

  “I think Connor will talk to Frieda, I think he wants to. But he is way too tense. You know how hard it is when patients first get here. I suggest we give him something before lights out; that way he’ll get a good night’s sleep and maybe we’ll have an easier time with him tomorrow.”

  Crass looked back into the room. Connor sat back reading his book while Frieda stared at him. Crass didn’t like Frieda, neither did he respect him but he knew he needed him. The man had screwed up two pivotal interviews almost irreparably and Crass knew this wasn’t the first time. Frieda had many qualifications but Crass simply felt he lacked common sense and the old man found that fact very hard to tolerate.

  “Ok Greg, let’s do it your way. We’ll see how he is in the morning then we’ll maybe get him back in that room. But I’m telling you now I’m going ahead with this against my better judgment. I just hope you’re sure about what you are doing.”

  MacNamee sighed and looked in at Connor thoughtfully.

  “I hope so too Ben. I hope so too.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Andy sipped on another bourbon. He hadn’t bothered to count how many he had had already. The demon known as denial taught him many tricks long ago and this was one of them. His limit was set by himself alone and right now his thoughts were of nothing; his vision was blurry and he was feeling no pain whatsoever, just the way he liked it. The bar was fairly quiet on this early evening but as time wore on a few local patrons began shooting pool and the barflies sporadically swarmed, moving from table to bar back to table. The shades from neon beer advertisements become more apparent as natural light dwindled outside. A bluish tinge encapsulated Andy’s drink putting a sparkle on ice cubes slowly melting. Too many drinks afforded Andy the ignorance of missing the mood change in the bar as a group entered with intent in their eyes.

  “Is that him?”

  The words barely audible with Andy’s mind situated somewhere between oblivion and inebriation.

  “I don’t know I can’t see his face” came the female response.

  “Hey! Buddy!”

  The call, directed at Andy, might as well have been directed at the glass for the response it received.

  “Hey! Buddy!”

  This time the call, more forceful and accompanied by a treble tap on the back drew a response, albeit a sluggish one. Turning around slowly, Andy was confronted by a half dozen young men and women led by a large twenty-something attempting to provoke him. The broad-shouldered man looked over his shoulder to the girl behind him. His faux-hawk styled hair implied boyishness but his demeanor suggested otherwise.

  “This the guy you were talking about Sandy?”

  Sandy, a pretty, but mouthy blonde behind him answered.

  “Yeah Tony, that’s the guy.”

  Tony sized Andy up.

  “I read about you in the paper. You’re the guy with the psycho kid aint ya? The ‘Baby Killer?’”

  Andy tried his best to look annoyed but it didn’t work. The alcohol in his blood allowed him only partial control of his facial muscles so instead he managed a weird grimace.

  “Look” he slurred “I don’t want any hassle here, I just came in for a drink.”

  “Looks like you came in for more than one!” commented Jimmy, one of Tony’s shorter friends behind him.

  Fuelled by his friend’s comment Tony continued his harassment.

  “What’s the plan tonight then? Going to get all liquored up and gonna cause some trouble here? Maybe a couple of dead bodies show up tomorrow too eh? I read that bodies tend to follow you. I read about your girlfriend and your wife. Maybe you had a little hand in that eh?”

  Andy was clearly annoyed but, even in his stupor he knew when he was outgunned and decided not to retaliate.

  “What do you want?”

  Andy’s words poured from a mouth surrounded by lazy muscles. Stepping forward like bravado on legs Tony laid down his law.

  “We want you to leave!”

  This demand bothered Andy as he had just bought another drink before the group showed up and had no intention of leaving it unfinished.

  “I’m not leaving till I finish my bourbon, now piss off!”

  Andy swiveled round in his chair, turning his back on Tony. With a chuckle, Tony looked at the floor.

  “Maybe you didn’t understand.”

  Grabbing Andy’s shoulders he yanked him hard to the floor, sending a column of ice cubes teen feet across the room. Pain shot through the back of Andy’s head as he hit the ground. Luckily for Andy he was too drunk to really feel it. Taking him by the collar despite the bartender’s protests Tony easily dragged the smaller Andy across the floor towards the door as patrons hurriedly scattered from their path. With a boot Tony kicked open the door and tossed Andy outside on the sidewalk.

  “Ok, your motel is across the street old man. Pack up your shit and head on out.”

  Andy used a nearby car as a rest and pulled himself to his feet; at this point not caring who knew who he was. He wasn’t mad he was bothered during a nice quiet evening. He wasn’t even annoyed about the fact he was pulled off his stool. Like any true alcoholic he was outraged he was forced to stop drinki
ng and even worse than that, Tony knocked it out of his hand, wasting perfectly good liquor. It was this outrage that caused Andy to make his first real mistake of the night. Tony was busy joking about the feebleness of Andy to his pals when he was caught off guard. Andy lunged in and landed a square right to his chin, reminiscent of the one he used to crack the wood on his bedroom door. Off balance, Tony stumbled over. This would have been a good start to the fight for Andy but unfortunately for him, his drunken state caused him to lose his balance too. Falling into to the arms of his unsuspecting friends Tony was incensed. The air was still and warm when the fight began, few cars drove past this road this night. Tony’s first strike in retaliation was an uppercut to the jaw of the stumbling Andy, causing him to bite down hard on his own tongue; sending him reeling into a parked car. The alarm on the car wailed out and caused a couple of patrons to come out to see what was going on. The rest of them were used to Tony’s scrapping and did their best to ignore it. One of Tony’s other friends, Brian, ushered the curious patrons back inside where he kept them for the remainder. Unable to see what was happening the people inside could only listen to the blows which rung out, mixed in with grunts from the two men. Andy’s tongue was numb but he kept on going. The adrenaline/alcohol blend coursing through his body prevented him from feeling pain. He may have been exceedingly passive when it came to women but Andy did know how to fight. Andy grew up in a small town like this and he was involved in his fair share of scraps. He was angry now and wanted to end this one quickly. Leaning on the car he deliberately wobbled, trying to feign he was feebler than he was, while his hand reached into his pocket and took his motel key. Placing the sharp silver colored door key between his knuckles he made a fist with it, using his fingers to pull the metal tight against his palm.

  “You just couldn’t stay down could you old man?

  Tony sneered as Andy wobbled around.

  “Well this time I’ll put you down!”

  Tony stepped towards him. Believing him to be defenseless he tried to punch Andy with his entire two hundred pounds, but at the last second Andy dodged one step to the side and moved in, striking Tony hard with his keyed fist. Striking Tony’s cheek and dragging it downwards, the key tore down Tony’s face like a zipper on jeans, getting lodged there temporarily. He let the key go and staggered backwards, allowing the bully to back off reeling in pain. Andy limped back towards the parked cars while spitting blood from his bitten tongue. Tony’s friends watched in shock as he pulled the key from his cheek and threw it to the ground, blood spurting out profusely. The sudden sight of Andy standing before him enraged him like it never had before. What started out as a simple scrap was now so much more. Andy had raised the stakes. With a momentous roar Tony charged like a bull, thrusting a big shoulder into the older man’s gut and bringing him down. Now on top, he landed strike after strike to his face while the blood from Tony’s face splashed all over Andy’s. It was only after the twelfth or thirteenth punch that Tony’s friends managed to haul him off. It took some time for Tony to get to a level could calm that he could finally feel the pain in his face but when he did he felt it. Screaming, lashing out, all the while holding his cheek as tight as he could Tony yelled every profanity you could imagine as his hand turned crimson.