Thr3e

“One hour.” She closed the cell.

“Anything wrong?” Dr. Francis asked.

“Everything’s wrong, Doctor.”

25

Monday

6:37 P.M.

WHO LOVES WHAT HE SEES, but hates what he loves?” Dr. Francis said. “Every man, every woman, every child beyond the age of accountability.”

“He loves the ice cream, but hates the fat it puts on his waist,” Je

“Yes. She loves the wrong man, but hates what he does to her life. The dilemma goes back to Eve and the apple in the garden. Sin.”

“I don’t see how that helps us,” Je

“Three children? Or two? Sam and Kevin, who had his alter ego—the boy?” Dr. Francis sat in a large leather recliner and leaned forward. “Tell me everything. From the begi

He listened, eyes sparkling, with only the occasional frown to betray his anxiety over Kevin’s predicament. In many ways he reminded Je

She told it all in one long run-on, interrupted only by his prodding for further detail. He was a thinker, among the best, and he seemed to like playing detective. So did most people. His questions were insightful. How do you know that Kevin was inside his house when the second phone call was made? Is there a way to intercept a laser signal? All the questions lent themselves to whether Kevin could logically be Slater.

Twenty minutes and Sam still hadn’t called. Je

“You remind me of Kevin when you do that.”

He was looking at her hands, still in her hair. She sat down on the couch and sighed. “So now I’m Kevin as well.”

He chuckled. “Hardly. But I do agree that the primary question is who, not what. Who is Kevin? Really.”

“And?”

He leaned back and crossed his legs. “Multiple Personality Disorder. It’s referred to as Dissociative Identity Disorder these days, isn’t it? Where two or more personalities inhabit a single body. As you know, not everyone acknowledges such an animal. Some spiritualize the phenomenon—demon possession. Others discount it outright or think of it as commonplace, a gift even.”

“And you?”

“While I do believe in spiritual forces and even demon possession, I can assure you that Kevin is not possessed. I’ve spent many hours with the boy, and my own spirit isn’t so callous. The fact of the matter is, all of us experience some level of dissociation, more so with age. We suddenly forget why we walked into the bathroom. Or we have strange déjà vu. Daydreaming, highway hypnosis, even losing yourself in a book or movie. All forms of dissociation that are thoroughly natural.”

“A far cry from the kind of dissociation that would be required for Kevin to be Slater,” Je

“If.That is the operative word here. If Kevin is also Slater. Frankly, your theory that Slater may be framing Kevin makes as much sense. But . . .” Dr. Francis stood and paced to the fireplace and back. “But let’s assume Kevin is Slater for the moment. What if there was a child, a boy, who from a very young age was isolated from the real world.”

“Kevin.”

“Yes. What would that child learn?”

“He would learn whatever he was taught from his surroundings: the environment he could touch, taste, hear, smell, see. If he were alone on an island, he would think the world was a small piece of dirt floating on the water, and he would wonder why he didn’t have fur like the rest of his playmates. Like Tarzan.”

“Yes, but our child does not grow up on an island. He grows up in a world of shifting realities. A world where realities are merely slips of paper cut up into truth. There are no absolutes. There is no evil and, by extension, there is no good. Everything is pretend, and only that which you decide to be real is actually real. Life is merely a string of role-playing adventures.”

Dr. Frances lifted his hand to his beard and pulled lightly at the gray strands. “But there isan absolute, you see. There is good and there is evil. The boy feels a void in his soul. He longs for an understanding of those absolutes, good and evil. He is abused in the most mentally strenuous ways, causing his mind to separate into dissociative realities. He becomes a master role-player, and finally, when he is old enough to understand evil, he subconsciously creates a personality to play the part. Because that’s what he’s learned to do.”

“The boy. Slater.”

“A walking, living personification of man’s dual nature. The natures of man could be playing themselves out through personalities he’s created. It does follow, doesn’t it?”

“Assuming man has more than one nature. It could also be a simple fracture—common dissociation.”

“Man does have more than one nature,” the professor said. “The ‘old man,’ which is our flesh, and the fingerprint of God, the good.”

“And for those of us who don’t necessarily believe in the spirit of God? Who aren’t religious?”

“A person’s i

He offered a quick smile. For the second time in as many days he was tempting her to discover his faith. Right now, however, she didn’t have the time.

“So you’re thinking Kevin, as a young boy, simply struggled to make sense of the conflict within him, between basic good and evil. He dealt with it the way he learned to deal with all reality. He creates roles for each persona and plays them out without knowing that he’s doing it.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m thinking,” the professor said, standing and pacing to his right. “It’s possible. Entirely possible. It may not even be classical Dissociative Identity Disorder. Could be Posttraumatic Stress Disorder, which is even more likely for this kind of unconscious role-playing.”

“Assuming Kevin is Slater.”

“Yes, assuming Kevin is Slater.”

Sam poured through Kevin’s journal, searching desperately for a key to the riddle. Who loves what he sees, but hates what he loves?When that yielded no answer, she paged through his class notebooks.

The most obvious answer was mankind, of course. Mankind looks and sees and loves and then hates. The story of humanity in one sentence. Not quite up there with Descartes’s “I think therefore I am,” but obvious enough.