The Psychopath Maker

Chapter Thirty-Four

"Do you know where we're going?" Isabeth asked as she cruised her Rover down the bumpy dirt road.

Faith sat relaxed in the passenger seat, "Keep going straight." She stared ahead as the headlights cut through the night, showcasing the lopsided road and trees that enveloped them. "I'll tell you when to turn."

Isabeth lifted her foot off the gas pedal and eased it onto the brake, "How do you know where you're going."

"Fulton told me once." Faith nonchalantly informed as she picked at her cuticles.

Isabeth took a quick glance at Faith, "He...told you once." She looked in the rearview mirror at Benny but he had his head back and his eyes closed.

"Yeah. The subject came up in one of my sessions." Faith said. "Turn here!"

"Here!" Isabeth stopped the car yanking Benny out of his deep contemplation. "Here." She repeated while peering at the black void on her left.

Faith snapped quickly, "Yeah! Here."

Isabeth slowly turned the wheel and gave the vehicle a little more gas. The wheels eased onto a smooth terrain as the headlights displayed a meager cabin with dark blue paneling and a two-person porch.

"See what happens when you trust me." Faith unsnapped her seatbelt. "Results."

Isabeth slammed on the brake catapulting Faith forward. Faith slapped her hands onto the dashboard so her forehead didn't become acquainted with the console.

"Get out." Isabeth killed the ignition.

"See..." Faith looked back at Benny as he undid his seatbelt. "This is why she had to take Driver's Ed three times." Faith pushed her door open then slid out. "And she still drives like Ms. Daisy."

Benny laughed and Isabeth gave him the evil eye. "I didn't fail. I just didn't finish."

"Yeah, cause you jumped the curb and hit a fire hydrant." Faith explained as she ran up the stairs.

"How are we getting in?" Benny loitered on the bottom step. "Are we adding breaking and entering to our list of crimes."

"List of crimes?" Faith looked back at Benny. "I'm sure no one is going to report us. Plus...there's no one out here." Faith held out her arms and they looked out into the darkness that was trees and sky. "There's no one for miles." Faith twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open with a little bit of force.

"How did you know it was unlocked?" Isabeth asked as she followed Faith inside the cabin. "Did he tell you that in a session, too?"

"He likes The Andy Griffith Show." Faith flicked on a corner lamp.

Once the dull light came on, Isabeth learned a little more about the man she killed. The open, loft-style cabin was a notebook that described Dr. John Fulton. The unstained gray wood walls were adorned with portraits of landscapes; California Redwoods, The Narrows of Texas Hill Country, and canyons from Utah. On the opposite side of Isabeth, was an unmade bed and a corner chair that had plaid pajama pants thrown across the arm.

The alley-style kitchen was bare of groceries but ketchup packets, plastic utensils, and take-out menus were scattered along with the countertops. The TV screen carried a film of dust while the stuffed rows of the bookshelf were polished clean. A mug of frigid coffee sat on the coffee table next to an open copy of For Whom The Bell Tolls. A hollow pit grew in Isabeth's gut as she realized he was a man she could've liked if he didn't have the heart of a monster.

Remembering Faith's statement, Isabeth shot Benny a peculiar look as he closed the door; "I thought therapist didn't talk about themselves during sessions." Isabeth held her waist. "Right, Benny."

"Therapist tailor their method differently to suit each patient." Benny locked the door. He didn't want anyone barging in on them while they were snooping.

"Is this discussion hour?" Faith questioned as she turned on the desk lamp. "Are did we come here to find a lockbox."

They riffled through all of Fulton's belongings. Benny found a photo album, which was on a shelf in the closet, filthy with pictures of Fulton's life with his family. Isabeth discovered a gun under a pillow and a bottle of Ambien in the nightstand. Faith scavenged the desk only finding tax forms and check stubs.

"This is a colossal fail." Faith slammed the bottom desk drawer closed. "We're going to end up being TPM's bitches."

"No. We're not." Benny tossed a shoe back in the closet before shutting the door. "We are going to find out who TPM is. We're going to get them locked away and we're going to be done with this."

Isabeth dropped the pill bottle in the pocket of her cardigan, "I love your optimism but..." She trod toward Faith, walking on the beige rug. The floorboard squeaked, then snapped under her body weight. Isabeth toppled over landing on her knees.

Faith rushed to Isabeth's side, "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay." She looked at the splinter lodged in her hand from the untamed wood floor.

Benny flung over the rug and tossed the broken pieces of wood to the side. "Found it." He proclaimed holding up the slate metal box like it was a trophy.

"Give it." Faith ordered using her knees to scoot over to him. She dug the key out of her pocket as he held the box to her. Faith sat the box in her lap and they sat in a circle like it was storytime.

Faith guided the key into the lock, twisted the key and the lock silently opened. She flung open the lid like it was a treasure chest.

"That's it." Faith's face deadpanned as she stared into the box. She held up the plain white access card. She flipped it over to see a black stripe and the word Everclear in red writing.

Benny pulled out a manila folder. He opened it only to find newspaper clipping and magazine articles on gruesome murders across The United States. He flicked through the papers and a post-it slid out. The small yellow paper attracted his eye and he read it aloud, "The Imposter...mid-twenties...looks like a teenager...gender unknown but wealthy...speaks several languages...probably four.... attends Dawson Prep. Find them. Find TPM."

"It's Lucas." Faith claims. "Has to be."

"I don't know." Benny stuffed the paper back into the folder. "Imposter means you are someone else. You blend in...and we know...I know Lucas is crazy but The Imposter...is calculating. Lucas killed his parents in a fit of rage."

"How do you know that he killed his parents?" Faith asked with a look of horror.

"Group sessions." He answered.

Isabeth retrieved the last thing in the box. It was something she hadn't seen in a while and it beckoned memories that created through her life.

Isabeth faced Faith, "I thought you lost this." She held up a gold charm bracelet. "Before Thanksgiving break."

Faith snatched the bracelet out of Isabeth's hand, "I did."

Who do you think The Imposter is? Clue: You already met them.