Anarchy Found (SuperAlpha, #1)(66)

“Well…” I clear my throat and take in a steadying breath. “Well, he was fine the last time I talked to him. And that was Friday night at the party. We talked extensively.”

The Old Man tilts his head like I might’ve said something interesting. “Did you? What, might I ask, was the topic of discussion?”

Shit. “We were just discussing the suicides. He was completely lucid and in control at that time. So what happened over the weekend? Why this sudden burst of violence?”

“What makes you think it was sudden? He’s been violent his whole life. And did it ever occur to you that he was so interested in those suicides because he’s tried to take his own life before?”

“No,” I say, caught off guard with that statement. “I saw all those pictures in his office. He just doesn’t seem like the violent type. He was an outdoorsman. He surfed giant waves, climbed mountain cliffs, and sailed around the world.”

“You just made my point for me. I’ve read a lot of studies that claim extreme risk-takers like my son participate in such behavior to challenge death. You might even call it a death wish. I’m sure you’re familiar with that phrase?”

I’m taken aback at his thinly veiled reference to my family. “He seemed perfectly well-adjusted, Mr. Montgomery. That’s all I’m saying. I’m just trying to get to the bottom of the issues you’ve been having with your employees. And I checked. Atticus has no criminal record. So if he has been behaving this way, then you’ve never reported it.”

“I know, Detective. I realize I’ve been doing him no favors by hiding his unpredictable and violent behavior, but make no mistake, he’s being dealt with now. I’ve got the best psychiatrists with him at the Cathedral City Asylum. He’ll get the highest level of care until he’s well enough to come home.”

I let out a small sigh. “I’d like to go talk to him.”

“That won’t be possible. His doctors have asked that all contact with the outside world be limited to immediate family.” Montgomery stops here to laugh and I get that creepy feeling again.

I’ve had enough. “Thank you for your time,” I say, backing away.

“Do you think it runs in the family?” he asks, just as I’m ready to bolt out the door.

“What?” I say, my heart suddenly beating fast.

“Insanity. Do you think insanity runs in the family? Do you think I have it? That I gave it to him?”

“Um…” Holy f*ck, I need to get out of here. But Montgomery starts walking towards me, even as I back away.

“Maybe all my children have it?” he adds. “Maybe they get it from me?”

I’m still backing away slowly when I stumble over the mats in front of the doors and he reaches out to steady me. His hand comes into contact with mine. It is cold, just like him, and I pull away so fast, I trip again.

“Do I frighten you, Molly?”

“What?” I look over at the receptionists, but all six of them are looking down at the desk, their lips busily moving as they talk to people on the phone through their headsets.

“They say that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Insanity tends to run in families.”

Jesus Christ, I don’t blame Atticus for trying to kill him. Old Man Montgomery has an ice factor that’s off the f*cking charts. “I gotta go,” I say, turning and bursting through the outer doors. The sunlight that was peeking through the clouds is gone now, but when I get in my car and look up at the building, I see it has just changed positions. It illuminates the tip of the Blue spire like a spotlight.

I take that as a good omen, something uplifting, as I start my engine and put the car in reverse. But then my eyes wander to the front doors of the Blue Castle and I see the Old Man staring back at me from the other side of the bulletproof glass.

“Uhhhhhh.” I shiver. That man is so creepy.

I pull away feeling dirty and wishing I’d never come out here. I’m almost shaking off that feeling when I get to the other side of town and spy the asylum off in the distance. It looks like it belongs in Cathedral City with its gothic architecture and gloomy, black-stained bricks. There’s even an archway you have to pass through to get to the visitor’s parking lot, and there’s not a single break in the clouds to allow a stray sunbeam.

The place has hopeless gloom written all over it.

I park my car and walk into the building. I was here once several years back, but I never went farther than the front lobby. My mother was ‘having a bad day,’ they said, and couldn’t see visitors. It was the day before I left Wolf Valley for basic training, so I never got the chance to come back.

Not that that’s an excuse. I had plenty of opportunities to come visit before then, I just chose not to.

“Can I help you?” the receptionist says from behind a glass window. I hate people behind glass windows.

“I’m here to see Martha Masters.”

“And you are?”

“Her daughter.”

“Huh,” the woman says, typing on her keyboard. “I never knew she had a daughter. She only ever gets one visitor.”

“Oh,” I say, surprised. “Who?”

“Mr. Montgomery.”

I’m too stunned to say anything. That old creep has been coming to see my mother?