I finally grasped what Dexter was up to. He was baiting Colin, prodding him to spill the truth. He wanted
to force Caleb to confess that it was his hands that ended Phoebe’s life.
He yanked me into a spare room at the mental institution, a ce designed to be a witness box of
sorts, and pointed me toward the monitor. “You keep denying that he’s a murderer, saying he’s not
mad? Well, you sit right here and watch.”
“Mr. Fitzgerald, we’re all set,” an assistant notified Dexter.
I watched in horror as the lights flickered on in the room on the screen; Dexter was about to rub salt in
Colin’s wounds, using the ghosts of the past to goad Caleb.
“When patients are under stress, they can’t differentiate reality from their nightmares. They start to
believe this world is a facade, and that’s when they reveal their deepest, darkest truths,” a doctor in a
stark white coat dered gravely.
I turned, clenching my fists. “You’re Lamont, aren’t you? The doctor who blew the whistle on this
asylum’s dark secrets?”
He nodded solemnly.
“Then you’ve gotta know Caleb’s not a bad seed. Why are you ying along with Dexter, tormenting
Caleb, rubbing salt in the wounds?” I demanded an answer.
His silence hung heavy before he finally spoke. “He killed an innocent, Mr. Fitzgerald’s wife… and she
was with child.”
“Bullshit! Phoebe was never his wife. Dexter’s the one who murdered her!” I red at Dexter, my anger
boiling over.
The nerve of this man!
Dexter remained silent but grabbed my chin from behind, forcing me to keep my eyes on the monitor.
“Phoebe…” Suddenly, a figure burst into the room, out of control..
“Phoebe…” Colin’s arrival was frantic, calling out my name.
“You lured him here with me as bait?” I hissed through clenched teeth.
So, Dexter’s intention in that alley today was always to kidnap me, to use me as leverage against
Caleb.
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“He seems pretty fond of you,” Dexter murmured, his voice a low growl as hepelled me to watch
the screen.
My hands balled into fists as I watched Colin standing alone in the deste room, a sharp pain
clutching at my heart.
No sooner had he barged in than the iron door mmed shut behind him, locked from the outside.
He called out my name in the empty room.
The lights dimmed, and Colin’s icy gaze fixed on the camera, his eyes chillingly cold,
“I’ll kill you…” he rasped, his voice hoarse and ominous, directed at the unseen watcher behind the
lens.
Dexter smirked, signaling the doctor to proceed.
After a moment’s hesitation, the doctor stood up and pressed y on theputer.
As the lights grew dimmer, Dexter instructed the doctor to project onto a screen in the room the very
horrors that Colin had endured in that institution.
My fists clenched tighter, witnessing Colin beating against the iron door, repeating desperately, “ed
to get out; she’s waiting for me; let me out…”
But they didn’t release him. Instead, they strapped him to a chair, injected him with drugs, force–fed
him pills.
Back in the room, Colin was losing it, pounding at the iron door with all his might. That fear of
entrapment was enough to drive anyone mad. And they were so cruel, forcing Colin to relive those
torments.
The scenes on the monitor were too gruesome, and I couldn’t bear to look, shutting my eyes
tight.
But Dexter forced them open.
On screen, the doctor took pleasure in tormenting Colin.
Colin snapped, snapping his restraints and seizing the surgical forceps from the table, bringing it down
on the doctor’s head again and again.
“See, he’s a murderer,” Dexter wanted me to witness Colin’s act of violence.
In the monitor, the past overwhelmed Colin, huddled in a corner, shaking uncontrobly.
“You’re a murderer, you killed the doctor.” The door opened, and Lamont entered the room, trying to
soothe Colin. “You did it, didn’t you?”
Colin was pulling at his hair, mumbling nonstop, “Phoebe… I need to find Phoebe.”
“And you killed Phoebe, too, right?” Lamont coaxed him, aiming to extract a confession. “Tell me, how
did you do it? What did you do to Phoebe?”