Chapter Text
"I am here at Claremont Psychiatric Hospital from where the serial killer known as The Surgeon has escaped earlier this evening. Two guards were harmed and are currently being treated for severe injuries. We would like to remind everyone that Dr Martin Whitly is a dangerous man who was convicted for the murder of 23 people. If you see this 5'10" middle-aged white man, who was last seen with curly grey hair and a beard, and was wearing a grey cardigan over white scrubs, the authorities advise not to approach him, but to call the police immediately. This was Ainsley Whitly with the latest news update."
Jessica watched the news for one reason and one reason only that evening: to make sure her daughter was alright. She had tried to convince Ainsley to come home so she'd be safe with her, strength in numbers and all that, in case Martin decided to come after them. The news had been reporting the escape all night and she was over it. She didn't think she could take any more of it, but it was her only way to check in with her daughter. Ainsley was apparently too busy reporting what was happening to answer her calls. Jessica could hear police sirens in the background during the report, reminding her that her daughter was standing in the middle of the action, right inside the search perimeter where everyone hoped The Surgeon still was.
It felt scary being alone in this house all by herself, thinking every noise she heard could be Martin. Jessica wished her children would come home and sit with her. Especially Ainsley who was out there, unprotected, exposed. What if something happened to her? What if Martin took her so they could bond, catch up, make up for time lost? Jessica couldn't bear the idea. She was fairly certain he wouldn't actually hurt her, but she couldn't stop thinking about what having a relationship with him had done to Ainsley's brother, how it hurt him to remember what kind of father Martin was to him while he was doing all these awful things.
Malcolm. If there was anyone Martin would go after, it was him. Jessica just knew it. And she wasn't the only one. Gil agreed. And that was why she could spend so much time worrying about Ainsley. Because Malcolm was in good hands. Gil wouldn't let him out of his sight, he would protect him no matter what. She knew he loved him like a son, he wouldn't let anything happen to him. Martin couldn't possibly enter a police precinct and walk out of there still free and with Malcolm, no matter how charming and manipulative he was.
"Ainsley, honey, will you please come home? I am your mother and I worry about you out there. At least return my calls, I am begging you. Your father is a dangerous man, you cannot take this situation lightly. Please, don't try to be brave, don't do what your brother would do. Just come home to me and be safe."
Jessica left yet another message to her daughter, hoping this one would be the one to finally get through to her. Because she was living her worst nightmare and she didn't want to be alone for it all. She needed her children. And if one of them didn't call her back soon, she would have to go find them herself. After all, she knew where they were. Ainsley was at the psychiatric hospital doing live reports, letting everyone know exactly where she was. She was exposed, Martin could easily find her and get to her if he wanted. There was probably no more than a cameraman with her, nothing he couldn't handle. She couldn't leave her like that.
"Gil, thank God you've picked up!" She called the only person she knew could help, would help.
"Jessica, what's wrong? Are you alright?"
She felt touched at the sound of panic and worry in his voice. He cared about her. She had always thought he only liked Malcolm, but he cared about all of them. She had so many regrets about this. All those years of Malcolm hanging out at the Arroyo house, where she was so jealous of them. Gil and Jackie loved Malcolm like their own son, and somehow she was always afraid they were stealing him away from her. That Jackie was trying to replace her.
She could've spent time with them. They would've welcomed her with open arms. She could've gotten to know Jackie better, made a friend to get through all of this with. But she didn't. And it was too late now. Jackie had been gone for years. Jessica hadn't talked to Gil for even longer until Malcolm came back to New York.
"Of course, I am. My children are the problem, like always."
"You don't have to worry about Malcolm, he's right here with me. I'm not letting him go anywhere."
Gil's voice softened, reassured that nothing more had happened. She could almost feel her son's gaze on him, watching his every expression, listening intently on that side of the conversation, trying to piece together the reason for this call. And yet, he didn't pick up his own phone.
"Oh, I know you'll do everything in your power to keep him as safe as possible. But Ainsley! She's there, at the hospital, all alone. And everyone knows it. She's who I'm worried about."
"Malcolm didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what? He hasn't been returning any of my calls."
Jessica heard him lower the phone so he wasn't speaking directly into it, turning his attention on someone else, but she could still hear what was happening on the other end. Gil's exasperated tone as he clarified things with Malcolm, and her son's frustrating obliviousness.
"Is that true?"
"Is what true? Gil, I can't hear both sides of the conversation."
"You haven't returned your mother's calls? She's worried sick about you."
Worried sick isn't the expression she would've used, she wouldn't go that far, but she appreciated him slightly exaggerating to get his point across. Sometimes, she almost felt like she wasn't alone, like her children, Malcolm especially, had two parents. It felt good to have someone she could rely on.
"I'm fine, she knows that."
"Why am I even surprised at this point?" Sighing, Gil put the phone back in place. "I'm sorry, Jessica, I shouldn't have assumed."
"It's alright, I make the same mistake sometimes."
"Yeah. So, as I was saying, I sent officers and a patrol car to look after Ainsley. She's not alone, I wouldn't leave her out there in a time like this."
"I can never thank you enough."
"Just doing my job. I also have one stationed in front of your house."
"Oh, I don't think it's necessary, I'm perfectly safe here."
Jessica waved him off even though he couldn't see her, it was a reflex at this point. She was so used to deflecting, she probably did it more than anything else.
"Regardless, I'd rather not take any risks. And Malcolm agrees with me."
"Of course he does. He would want all the protection in the world for Ainsley and me, but has probably been begging you to let him go after his father himself all night."
"You know your son well."
"Yes, well. Thank you again. I hope you catch him soon."
"So do I. Have a nice evening, Jessica."
Jessica hung up and immediately tried Ainsley again. She poured herself a glass of gin as she listened to the phone ring, her second or maybe third she heard the news about Martin. She would not give up until she got an answer. Why didn't her children understand? She was a mother, she worried. All she wanted was to hear their voice, hear them tell her they were fine even though she knew they weren't. Because she wasn't either. If there was one thing she was sure of, is that they needed each other. No one else could understand what they were going through, what they had been through before. They only had each other.
"Mom, stop calling me, I'm working."
Ainsley finally picked up. It was surprisingly silent on that end of the line. Jessica had expected the same sirens in the background as she heard during the report. She wondered what was going on, but knew she'd likely find out the next time her daughter appeared on her tv screen.
"I wouldn't have to keep calling if you bothered to answer, dear."
"Fine, I answered, are you happy now?"
She tried to hide it under an air of exasperation, but Jessica could tell that under everything, under all that composure reserved for live television, her daughter was scared. She could hear the barely noticeable trembling of her voice, the subtle change in her intonation, the way her pitch was slightly higher. Ainsley was tired and uneasy, but, like always, she wouldn't let it show. Not in front of her colleagues, not in front of her audience.
"No, I'm not happy. Ainsley, your father is out there and who knows what he has planned. It's not safe."
"He won't attack me here, on live tv. Besides, there are cops making sure nothing happens to me. Which I assume is your doing?"
"Gil and your brother actually."
"Talking of Malcolm, are you calling him too? I'm pretty sure he's the one dad would want to see right now. He's the one you should spend all your energy worrying about."
"I did call him, but you're the one I have to worry about. Everyone knows where you are, including your father. Malcolm is in the police precinct with Gil and a number of officers. Even if Martin knew where he is, he can't get to him. You're the one in danger."
"What about you? You're alone in a house he knows as well as we do. He could sneak in and attack you without anyone noticing."
Jessica looked around. Ainsley was right, Martin could get in here without the officers in the patrol car outside noticing. He probably wouldn't hurt her, he never had before, but he was a serial killer after all. If he had no issue killing 24 people, even 26 if those guards didn't pull through, there was no telling what he could do to her if he got angry. She had refused to visit him all these years, left him to rot in that hospital, he had a lot to resent her for.
"That's why I want you to come home, Ainsley. We'd be much safer together."
"I have to work. Go to the precinct, be with Malcolm, I'll be fine."
"Ainsley, please."
"Goodbye, mom. Be safe."
Ainsley hung up, leaving Jessica alone with her thoughts again. She finished her drink, thinking maybe she could do like her daughter said and join Malcolm at the precinct. They would be together, maybe team up trying to convince Ainsley to come be with them. And, most importantly, she wouldn't have to sit in this big empty house, all by herself, waiting to hear anything from any of them, wishing for this whole situation to be over. Malcolm would be there for her. Gil would do his best to make her feel better, to convince her they had everything under control, which couldn't possibly be true.
She wouldn't do that. She would be damned if she ever let Martin drive her out of her own house in fear. It was her home. It had been in her family for ages. It was where her children grew up. It was where her happiest memories lived. She didn't want to be anywhere else. She didn't want her children to be anywhere else. She wanted the three of them to be here, at home, together. She wanted them to face what they'd feared all these years together, as a family.
She could still remember Malcolm taking his first steps, stumbling and hitting his forehead on the fireplace. She could remember the panic, and then the relief when Martin checked him out and assured her the boy was fine, only a superficial cut. She could still remember Ainsley taking her first steps and falling into her big brother's arms. She could almost still hear their laughs. Oh, how she'd love to hear them laugh. They had never laughed the same after Martin's arrest. Especially Malcolm. She wished she could get those laughs back. She wished her children could be happy again.
However, her home was also where her worst memories lived. She had spent so much energy trying to counter them and create new happy ones without Martin in the past twenty years, but she wasn't sure it was working at all. No matter what she did, she could never erase any of it from any of their minds. She really wished she could, especially for her son's sake. But everything was solidly engraved in their memory.
The arrest, the way she felt learning her husband who she loved, who she would lay in bed next to every night, who she trusted with their children, was actually a serial killer. The way everything she remembered about him was tainted by that information. How he loved going camping and regularly went alone, because she didn't. How she thought he was cheating because sometimes he didn't come home at night and she couldn't get a hold of him at the hospital. How there would sometimes be blood on his clothes and she just thought he might've had to help a patient before he could change into scrubs. All of these things that had seemed so mundane were now signs, evidence of his secret.
Their life had never been the same after Martin's arrest. Jessica remembered it like it was yesterday. The police officers filling up her house, looking around everywhere. Her little girl so confused by what was going on. Malcolm who had called them, but was now watching his father that he loved, that had always been good to him, be dragged away. And that had only been the beginning. The following months had been the real struggle. Everything changed. They would never be the same people they used to be. They had to adapt to a new family dynamic, one that didn't include a father. They had to try moving on with their lives as if Martin were dead, but he wasn't. They had to grieve his loss as if he were dead, but he was still alive and well. They had to live as if they'd never see him again, when they easily could've visited him in prison. Jessica would never forget these first few months.
- - - - -
"Today is the day. In a few hours, Dr Martin Whitly will finally face trial. A reminder that Whitly is accused of killing 23 people as the serial killer better known as The Surgeon. He was arrested five months ago after his own son called the police on him. People are already dubbing it the trial of the century. Families of the victims are eagerly hoping for a conviction for the man allegedly responsible for their loved ones' demise. Whitly's family denied to comment."
Jessica turned off the television. She didn't want to hear more about it. She had enough to deal with already. What with the paparazzi outside and her children. It hadn't even been half a year since their father was taken away and already their life was so different.
Ainsley had entered kindergarten and she had been excited all summer. She had also been confused. She had asked regularly where her father was, when he'd be back, and why her brother didn't speak anymore. Earlier this week, her teacher had asked everyone to draw what they would do for Thanksgiving, what they would eat and who would be there. It was a very innocent kindergarten project. But when Ainsley brought back home a drawing that included Martin sitting with them around the turkey, it tugged at Jessica's heart. Her little girl needed her father, she missed him, and she couldn't understand yet what had happened, why he wasn't there.
Malcolm, on the other end, had started fifth grade. The kids were older and more aware of the situation. He'd had friends before, plenty of them, and suddenly he had none. They would call his father a monster, ask him if he'd grow up to be like him, tease him about the fact he called the police to have them take his father away. They would harass him, talk to him incessantly, insult him, even push him, trying to get a reaction from him. And when Malcolm stayed mute, they would laugh at him. The kids were cruel and they only hurt her son more than he already was. He didn't deserve any of it. He didn't deserve to suffer because of what his father had done. Jessica wished she could make it all better, she wished she could take away his pain, but there was nothing she could do.
Right now, her son sat on the carpet in front of the tv, staring at the now dark screen. He hadn't even moved when she turned it off, didn't even react at all. His little sister was talking to him, pulling on his arm, and he didn't seem to notice. He didn't pay her any attention at all. He was frozen in place, trying to process what he'd just heard and seen on the news about his father.
"Mal, come on, come play with me!"
Ainsley pulled and pulled, but her brother wouldn't budge. She let go and went to stand in front of him.
"Moon to Mal, are you there?"
She kneeled on his lap and took his hands in hers. Jessica softened as she watched her daughter be so gentle with her big brother. For a moment, she forgot how easily things can take a turn with children, how impatient they could be. For just a short moment, she thought maybe Ainsley would be their saving grace. A young, innocent child, who would only keep very vague and blurry memories of her father. Unlike them, she kept the sparkle in her eyes. She was still her happy little girl. Just a happy girl with a confusing, sometimes frustrating home life.
"Mal, please. We can play any game you want. Just play with me."
Malcolm briefly looked down at their entwined hands, but didn't say anything. He hadn't said anything for months. He barely ate, barely played with his sister, barely did anything at all. Dr Le Deux said he needed time. But how do you explain that to a five-year-old who just lost her father and is desperate for her brother to spend time with her? How do you explain psychological trauma to a child who is still learning that yellow and blue make green?
"MAAALCOOOOLM!"
Jessica jumped at the sudden scream. Ainsley was hitting her brother's chest repetitively with her little fists, crying and screaming at him. Malcolm stared back, but didn't say anything, didn't really move at all. He simply let her, his face slowly crumbling. At first, Jessica thought Ainsley was actually hurting him, punching him like that, and she almost pulled her away. But the pain didn't come from her fists. Malcolm was sad. He wanted to make her happy, he wanted to find it in himself to play with her, but the news report had paralysed him. He knew all she wanted was to have her brother back and if he could just get a word out, he could make her smile.
His eyes met Jessica's. She could see the pain in them, she could see how hard it was for him to be like this and not know how to fix it. He looked around the room and all he could see were the memories there. The birthdays, the Christmas mornings, the Thanksgivings, and every ordinary day in between. She could see it too. Martin chasing Ainsley around and the little girl laughing so hard Jessica didn't know how she could still breathe. The four of them sitting in front of the Christmas tree throwing discarded wrapping paper at each other. Malcolm asking about the portraits and Martin grabbing both him and Ainsley to sit on his lap while Jessica told them all about them. The police swarming her house, Martin exchanging a few words with Malcolm while Jessica held Ainsley tightly in her arms, begging them to just take him away. The last time they ever were all together.
Malcolm put his arms around his little sister and lifted her up as he stood up himself. She calmed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him strongly. He brought her over to Jessica and handed her to her. She picked up her daughter and wrapped her safely in her arms. Then she watched her son walk away, climb back to his room, likely to hide under the covers, where it would be dark and he couldn't see the memories. Ainsley buried her face in the nook of her mother's neck and started crying.
"Why doesn't he like me anymore?"
"Oh, honey, your brother still loves you very much. He's just too hurt to show it right now. But he'll be okay, we'll make him okay. We will be there for him and help him get better, alright?"
"And then he'll talk again?"
"Yes, we just have to be patient. Give him some time. He'll come back to us."
Jessica got her daughter to bed and made sure she fell asleep. She stayed for a while, watching her sleep peacefully, all worry and confusion gone. She wished her children could always be like this, even when they were awake. She'd settle for Malcolm at least managing that state in his sleep. She walked by his room, where he was hiding under the covers, as she expected, but he wasn't sleeping. She could tell by how calm and steady his breathing was. When he slept, the nightmares made his breathing fast and irregular, sometimes she worried his heart would give out. His screams would wake Ainsley up in the middle of the night. Jessica didn't sleep at night anymore. She couldn't. She sat in the hallway, waiting for her son to run out, ready to catch him and hold him and comfort him when he did. She had time to nap when the children were both at school. But at night, she had to be there for them.
There was one thing she hadn't tried yet. One last option she had wanted to avoid, because it made her uncomfortable. Because it made her feel like if she went there, if she actually had to do that and it worked, it would mean she was a failure as a mother. She knew that wasn't true, she knew anything she did to help her children made her a good parent, a parent who cared about them more than her own feelings, but some part of her still thought asking for help would be like admitting defeat.
She went back downstairs. Her hand shook as she grabbed the receiver. Her hand shook as she dialed the numbers carefully written down on the notepad next to the phone. She almost hung up twice before someone picked up. A woman. She should've expected it and yet she was completely taken aback by it.
"Hello."
"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you this late at night. Officer Arroyo told me to call anytime if I needed anything. Is he there?"
"No, I'm sorry, he's working right now." There was a pause. Like she was thinking of something, figuring out who could possibly call them like that. "You must be Mrs Whitly."
"I... Yes, I am. I should call back another time."
Jessica twisted the phone cord in her hand. It surprised her when she saw it tangled in her fingers. She never did that, it drove her crazy when she saw others do it, like they couldn't stay still a few minutes. She was always confident and too sure of herself on the phone to need to fidget with anything. Tonight was different. Tonight she was stepping out of her comfort zone, calling a virtual stranger for help. A stranger who could've died at her husband's hand. A stranger who took the father of her children away for good. It was difficult, it had taken everything in her to actually do it, and now that she had and he wasn't there, she was unsure how to proceed.
"There's no reason for that. I'm Jackie. What do you need? Maybe I can help."
"I really wouldn't want to bother you. I shouldn't have called at all."
"Nonsense. Tell me what's going on."
"Alright, well, I don't know how much Officer Arroyo has told you about our situation-"
"He's told me enough. And you can call him Gil, he won't mind. Please, continue."
"My son still hasn't said a word since, you know. And it's getting really hard for his sister to see him like that. I think, maybe all the memories around the house are making it harder on him. Maybe if he could spend some time somewhere new, somewhere he doesn't have any memory with his father, it could help." Jessica took a deep breath. "Or maybe it wouldn't. Maybe it's still just too soon."
"It sure would be worth a try. A change of scenery for a while certainly can't hurt."
"I don't know what to do anymore. This is a lot harder than anything I ever thought I'd have to do."
"I can't imagine what it must be like ending up alone to care for two children, with everything you've been through. And the press who won't leave you alone. I'd be happy to help. Gil and I can take the kids this weekend."
"They're not exactly the easiest children right now. I wouldn't want to cause you any trouble."
"Oh, don't you worry, we can handle them. You could drop them off Saturday morning and pick them up after dinner. Or they could even spend the night."
"That wouldn't be an imposition? It wouldn't ruin your plans?"
"It wouldn't. And it would give you some time for yourself. You probably didn't get much the past few months. It'd give you a chance to relax and not have to worry so much about your kids for a while."
"Are you sure?"
"It would be our pleasure."
"Alright then. Thank you."
"Oh, and while we're talking, Gil and I meant to ask. What are you doing next Thursday? We would be happy to have you over for Thanksgiving."
"That is a lovely invitation, but I think since it's our first one without Martin, I'd prefer spending it alone with the kids."
"Of course, I understand. See you Saturday, Mrs Whitly."
"Please call me Jessica. And thank you again."
They both hung up. Jessica felt relieved. She wasn't sure it would actually do Malcolm any good, to be away from the house and all the memories of Martin, but at least she was doing something. And she desperately needed some time to herself. She hadn't realised how much until Jackie mentioned it. Some time where she didn't have work to do for some charity or another, where she knew her children were safe and taken care of, and she could truly relax and do something only for herself. It would also be good for Ainsley to spend time outside of school with someone other than her mother or her silent brother.
- - - - -
When she got to Claremont Psychiatric, all the alarms were blaring, exactly like when she went to do her interview. Except this time she was outside. The place was on complete lockdown. Guards were scouring the grounds. The sounds of police sirens were deafening. She could see cops on foot and in cars locking down a perimeter around the hospital, searching street after street for any clue that could help figure out where Martin Whitly went. Even just a sign indicating the direction he was headed in would do. Ainsley had never seen anything like it before.
It had all happened so quickly. She had received a call less than thirty minutes earlier telling her to get to the hospital to report on a possible patient escape. All they had known was that they couldn't locate one of the patients. By the time she made it there, security had confirmed one of the inmates was no longer inside the building. Only there was she informed that the escapee in question was her father.
She had done her best to keep her composure, to not let it show that fear instantly flooded her entire body. She had grown up hearing how dangerous Martin Whitly was, how terrible the things he'd done had been, and now he was free. She immediately thought of her brother. If their serial killer father had made it outside the search perimeter that was just set up, he would definitely go for Malcolm. His son that he supposedly loved so much, that he called a dozen times a day, that he had a special relationship with. But if he hadn't been quick enough to make it out, then he'd go for his daughter he never had a chance to get to know. Ainsley didn't know which option was worse.
As she sat on the front steps, waiting for the time to do her report, watching Jin set up the camera, she thought about how crazy things had been lately. Ever since Malcolm came back to New York, it seemed there was always something happening. Her family couldn't catch a break. A new serial killer linked to The Surgeon had surfaced, as well as evidence of a 24th victim of Dr Whitly's. Her brother had been kidnapped over the holidays by that same man, who was still at large. Malcolm was barely back on his feet. Their mother was still calling them multiple times a day just to make sure they were fine, safe and not kidnapped. And now their father had escaped? That was insane.
Claremont turned off their alarms as the crisis inside was resolved. There wasn't a patient loose in the halls anymore, and therefore no reason to maintain a lockdown. After all, if anyone could be sure of one thing about Martin Whitly's agenda, it's that it didn't include coming back of his own accord tonight.
Ainsley did her first report, quickly summarising the situation for the audience so that they'd have all the information they needed. She could feel herself trembling, but she knew it was too subtle to show on camera. She hoped she was managing to keep her voice steady as she said the name Whitly first as reference to that escaped serial killer, then to her. It felt like she was exposing her own family drama for all of New York to witness. She kept her professionalism and talked as though she was completely removed from the situation, but it took everything in her not to be overwhelmed by the thought of her father watching. She knew he watched her reports. If he was hiding somewhere, waiting for things to die down a little, waiting for an opportunity to put his plan into action with the least risk of police interference as possible, he would be watching her updates.
"Ainsley, honey, will you please come home? I am your mother and I worry about you out there. At least return my calls, I am begging you. Your father is a dangerous man, you cannot take this situation lightly. Please, don't try to be brave, don't do what your brother would do. Just come home to me and be safe."
Yet another voicemail message left by her mother. She couldn't deal with her right now, hence why she wasn't picking up her phone. She knew Jessica worried. They all did. They all worried for each other more than themselves. Ainsley couldn't stop thinking about Malcolm, about his mental state, about how bad the tremor must be right now as he likely tried convincing a reluctant Gil to let him in on the case. Why did her mother keep calling her? She had to know she was safe. There were people around, there was a patrol car watching over her. The entire city, including Martin Whitly knew where she was, but she wasn't alone.
The message did give her an idea though. Jessica was right. The Surgeon was dangerous. But not for the reasons everyone thought. The public needed to know that. She had to interview his doctor so he could explain to everyone exactly where the danger lied. Because the fact he had a bad temper and had no qualms about killing wasn't what they should worry about, it was only the tip of the iceberg.
She convinced Jin to follow her inside. Their working rapport had been a little awkward ever since he broke up with her, they kept all their conversations purely about work. She could see that he worried about her, he knew the situation had to be difficult, but he wouldn't say anything. It was still too soon for him to ask how she was doing, she wouldn't answer honestly. She'd tell him she was fine, just like she did anyone else. And neither of them was ready for their relationship to be this officially over. So they walked in silence toward Dr Higa's office. He agreed to talk on camera about the real threat that Martin Whitly posed. While Jin set up and the doctor prepared himself, Jessica called again. Ainsley answered this time, if only to make her stop.
Jessica sounded even more worried than in her messages. Ainsley could tell she was scared too. The Whitly trademark, pretending everything was fine when it couldn't be clearer that it wasn't. They only had a short conversation, because Ainsley needed to get back to work, she had to get on the air very soon. She hoped her mother would listen to her, leave the house and go join Malcolm at the precinct. She knew she wouldn't, but she still hoped she would. It wasn't safe to stay alone at the house.
"Ains, we're on in one minute, are you ready?" Jin pulled her out of her thoughts.
"Yeah, I'm here. Doctor, we're doing this now."
Dr Higa nodded and they both sat on the couch of his office. Jin did a last minute check-up. He counted down with his fingers and pointed to Ainsley as a red light appeared on the camera. They were now live.
"Good evening, once again. This is Ainsley Whitly and I am still here at Claremont Psychiatric Hospital. Joining me is Dr Higa who has been treating Martin Whitly for the past twenty years. Thank you for accepting to talk with us."
"Anything I can do to help."
"Tell me, Dr Higa, aside from the obvious violent tendencies of The Surgeon, what else should people know about him?"
"I think the most important thing to worry about is the fact that you would expect someone who is responsible for so many deaths to be violent, aggressive and despicable. However, Martin Whitly is none of those things. Yes, he can be, but most of the time he appears very charming. He pulls you in and it is very easy to forget what he is."
"Like when I interviewed him, he made himself appear like a respectable man who saved lives every day through surgery. In every interaction I've had with him, he's presented himself like a concerned father, eager to be involved in his children's lives."
"Exactly. Martin Whitly craves control more than anything. He is very skilled at distorting people's perception of him. He is also manipulative. We also saw a little of that in your interview, the entire lockdown situation was part of his plan. He manipulated a fellow resident into hurting one of you so he could save the day and make himself more sympathetic to viewers."
"And that is how you think he could escape, this is what'll help him evade the law once again?"
"It certainly worked twenty years ago. No one suspected him of the murders until his own son called the police on him. We talked a lot about this over the years. I won't go into details, but that sort of betrayal from a member of the family is the kind of things that stays with you and still stings no matter how much time has passed."
"So, do you believe he'll go after his son? That he'll want revenge for that night?"
A knot formed in Ainsley's throat. All of her worst fears had been confirmed. Up until now, she could still think they were jumping to conclusions. Just because her father had a special relationship with Malcolm didn't mean he would necessarily attack him. After all, he claimed to love him, why would he ever hurt him on purpose? But the doctor made sense, he added weight to all of their worries.
"Maybe not revenge, because he does seem to care about his son. But he will certainly want to confront him in a setting that is within his own control. Something he hasn't had a chance to do from his cell."
"And what does that mean for the general public?"
"Martin Whitly will use all his charm and intelligence to avoid the police and bring his plan, whatever it may be, to fruition. If he needs to, he will kill innocent people to accomplish his goal. People should be very careful and call the police if they have any information."
"Unfortunately, that is all the time we had. Thank you again, Dr Higa, for accepting to talk with us. That was very informative."
The carefully constructed television smile left Ainsley's face as soon as the camera turned off. She thought she would be sick. She desperately needed some air. She left without a word and went back to sit on the steps outside. The cold air on her face helped her calm down. There was no need to panic. Malcolm was safe. He was with Gil, at the precinct. No one could get to him there. If Martin did want a confrontation, he would have to taunt him, he would have to find a way to lure him out. And that could take time.
She sat for a while, listening to all the city noises outside, combined with the manhunt around the hospital. Jin didn't come to find her, he probably guessed she wanted to be alone. He'd leave her be until they needed to do another report. Until then she could watch the events unfold, trying to pretend for a minute that it didn't affect her directly.
Ainsley could hear detectives discussing not far from her. They were taking a little break after talking with the staff. They must've thought their voices would be covered by the police sirens. They were trying to find an explanation for the events of the evening. What could possibly have triggered an escape after twenty years? It didn't make sense. Martin Whitly had been a model prisoner for two decades, why would he run now?
Her father hadn't tried to escape when he was first locked up and Jessica swore no one in the family would ever visit him. He hadn't tried to escape when Malcolm had announced he had applied to Quantico and would have to stop seeing him. He hadn't tried to escape when he was put in solitary. He hadn't tried to escape when Gil told him his son had been kidnapped. So what happened to make him do it tonight?
Ainsley's breath caught in her throat. She had a bad feeling about all of this. Malcolm had been the last one to visit him before the escape. She knew because she had tried to convince him not to go. She thought he already had enough to deal with trying to get passed what John Watkins had done to him without adding their father into the equation. But her brother hadn't listened. He had gone to Claremont the previous afternoon, for the first time in weeks. Malcolm had visited their father with a bruised face and his arm in a brace because his hand was broken. Malcolm had visited him sporting recent injuries caused by a man who was still wandering free out there, and a day later their father had escaped.
Maybe they were wrong. Maybe Malcolm wasn't the one Martin would be going after.
Not right away at least.