Paul Cleave - Collecting Cooper

I jot down every name I come across, thinking of each as a potential suspect. I list them by the institution they were kept in, focusing mainly on Grover Hills. In the end I have a list of forty-one names. It’s possible one of these people abducted Cooper Riley and killed Pamela Deans, and it’s equally as possible none of them did. It’s possible the two things are unrelated, it’s possible they’re related but by different means.

Forty-one names. I start with the Internet, using an online newspaper site and running their names through the search engine. I rule out six of them due to suicides. Another six are currently in jail for crimes ranging from breaking-and-entering to rape, one for repeated defecation in the middle of a shopping mall, another for killing his mother. There is little information on the others, and none on the rest. Jesse Cartman, the man who ate part of his sister twelve years ago, was released along with all the others, having served the term equivalent to what he would have done if he had gone to jail, and on the days he remembers to take his medication he works as a caretaker at the Botanical Gardens.

Other than Pamela Deans, Cooper doesn’t mention any of the other staff, and I can’t find any other nurses or doctors or orderlies mentioned online. Getting hold of any medical records is going to be impossible. Schroder would have shown the sketch to some of the doctors and nurses who used to work at Grover Hills. Maybe he already has a name.

Grover Hills.

It’s at the center of all of this and I don’t even know what it looks like.

Is it possible that’s where Cooper is now? It’s an abandoned building that would make an excellent place to hide out.

Is it possible an ex-patient has returned to it, thinking of Grover Hills as home?

I load up the city map on the computer and write down directions to the abandoned mental institution, grab my gun, and jump into the car.

“They’re going to come here,” Cooper says.

“What? Who are you talking about?”

“The police. They’re going to come here. You need to let me out. We need to go into hiding,” Cooper says.

“We already are in hiding,” Adrian answers, disappointed at Cooper. He doesn’t want to play more of these games. Why can’t Cooper just like him? It would all go so much easier if he would. To be honest, he’s beginning to find it frustrating. So far he’s had a pretty good day-he dug up Theodore Tate’s cat and bought Cooper a newspaper and had a good breakfast and soon he’s going to sit down outside in the shade and start reading Cooper’s book. Why does Cooper have to ruin it with more lies?

Cooper holds the newspaper up. Watching his face on the other side of the small glass panel is like watching a small TV set. Actually, it’s more like watching the news where it’s one bad story after another.

“The police won’t come here,” Adrian says. “They have no reason to.”

“They have every reason to,” Cooper says, waving the newspaper back and forth. “You’ve given them every reason.”

“You’re lying.”

“No, Adrian, goddamn it, I am not lying. I can’t afford to be caught here covered in blood, and nor can you.”

“But. .”

“Listen to me. The paper,” he says, waving it again. “You’re on the front page.”

Adrian shakes his head. No, if he were on the front page he would have seen himself.

“Take a look,” he says, and holds the paper over the glass.

Adrian takes a look. The sketch he saw earlier stares back at him, but it doesn’t look like him, not really. Well, maybe a little.

“That’s not all,” Cooper says, pulling it away.

“It’s okay, nobody is going to. .”

“Shut the hell up,” Cooper says, and he bangs the door with his palm and Adrian jumps. He goes quiet, unsure what to do. “You need to listen,” Cooper says, carrying on. “We don’t have much time.”

“I. .”

Cooper bangs the door again. “I demand you listen to what I say.”

Adrian is scared now. He used to get spoken to like this all the time and he doesn’t like it now any more than back then, but he does as he’s told.

“It’s simple if you think about it. Just follow the dots,” Cooper says.

“What dots?” Adrian answers, confused as well as scared.

“The dots you’ve made.”

“I don’t make dots,” he says, shaking his head.

“You abducted me. You burned down my house. Somebody saw you, and somebody from Grover Hills will recognize you. And you burned down Nurse Deans’s house.”

“How do you know about that?”

“It’s on page bloody two!” Cooper says, turning the newspaper and pushing it against the glass again. “And let me guess, you burned down her house the same way you burned down mine.”

“It worked so well the first time,” Adrian says, talking at the newspaper now, “so yeah, but I burned them down in a different order and. .”

“And the police have made the connection,” Cooper says, pulling the paper away and folding it up.

“I don’t see how.”

“They will have,” Cooper says. “You killed Nurse Deans, didn’t you?”

“She called me a freak,” he says, clenching his fists, and damn it, he didn’t want to confess that to Cooper, not yet.

“Is there anything else you’ve done?”

“No,” he says, thinking about Theodore Tate. He killed Tate’s cat, and tonight he was going to go back to the house and knock on the door and shoot Tate with the Taser. He’s starting to think Tate will be an easier item to maintain.

“The police probably already know who you are,” Cooper says.

“No, no, they can’t.”

“They’re going to send somebody out here to look around.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s routine. Because they know I’ve been abducted by an ex-patient and they know that same ex-patient has to have taken me somewhere and they know this place is as good as any.”

“It doesn’t make sense. How will they know I’m an ex-patient?”

“You took my book off Theodore Tate. The police know about it. They’ll connect the dots.”

“Oh,” Adrian says, understanding what the dots are now. “Is that really what will happen?”

“They’re on their way, Adrian. They may only be five minutes away. Or five hours. But they’ll be here. Today. Trust me. And if you don’t trust me all you have to do is wait around and see for yourself. Then they’ll take away your collection.”

“I don’t want them to do that,” Adrian answers.

“And they’ll put us both in jail.”

“I’d rather kill you than lose you.”

Cooper goes quiet for a few seconds. “Let’s make sure it doesn’t come to that. First thing we need to do is figure out where we can go.”

“Go?”

“We can’t stay here, Adrian.”

“But this is my home.”

“Not anymore.”

He’s confused. “But. .”

“Listen, Adrian, if we stay here we’re both going to jail. We only need to find somewhere else for a few days. The police will come here and they’ll find nothing, and then they’ll move on and have no reason to come back. We can give it two days, three at the most, then come back here. It can still be your home.”

He thinks he understands, and he’s certainly keen to make Cooper think he understands everything. He’s completely divided. Part of him believes Cooper is right and the police may well be on their way, and just as equally he thinks Cooper may be trying to deceive him. It’s a huge risk. His instinct is to hide and see if the police come, but if they do they’ll take Cooper away and he meant what he said earlier, he’d rather kill Cooper than lose him.

“Where will we go?” he asks.