Chapter Twenty-Two: The Brother
They rolled to a stop in front of the driveway to a drab house.
From the beginning, Dr. Loomis should've known their visit would be anything but pleasant. He found that even after Michael's tirade across Haddonfield, he repeatedly makes the same mistake of thinking light of a situation.
When he entered the house, he found both son and daughter withdrawn on the couch, eyes speaking of nothing, feeling of nothing. It almost reminded him of Michael.
As Sheriff Bracket expressed his deepest regret to the family, Mrs. Deeney, wrought with grief, fainted in the family room, and split her head against the edge of the rosewood coffee table in the process of her fall.
The boy, whose name was Richard, had stirred from his mourning and called the ambulance. As they waited with his unconscious mother, his apathetic front dissolved, and he cried, mentioning how his father had only called him an hour before his death, to notify that he would be coming home late due to an incident that occured with the Doe residence.
"I knew I should've went out to find him…" Richard sobbed. Naturally, Dr. Loomis gave his ear, as the distraught of children was a calling to his profession.
In his regret, the boy proceeded to admit he had stopped by the Doe residence to check on the daughter, Carmen Doe. Though, he didn't feel the need to knock on the door at the sight of her brother's mustang parked in the driveway.
At this, Dr. Loomis straightened in his seat. "What color?"
Richard, through his tears, looked confused. "What?"
"What color, Richard." Dr. Loomis intoned with urgency.
"Uh…" The boy wiped his eyes and under his nose. "Like light orange or something…"
"Do you know her brother? Do you know where we can find him?"
"I don't know...Adam doesn't live in the county."
The sheriff and the psychiatrist exchanged worried glances. Before Dr. Loomis could ask any more questions the ambulance had arrived, taking the boy, his sister and his mother away.
They were driving down the main drag in the direction of the police station when Dr. Loomis shook his head. "'You don't see people driving around in orange mustangs,'" he quoted.
"It could be a coincidence," Bracket said immediately. "But, now that you mention it, the Does are interesting."
"How do you mean?"
He scratched at his chin reminiscently and his cheek ticked, "The brother's kinda….Well I just remembered this time, ten years ago, when I was running night patrols. One of my routes passed through Mt. Sinclairs's cemetery. Someone jumped the fence and I thought I busted a grave robber. So I chased him through the tombstones until he stopped.' Hell, I'll tell you, being out there at night with that fog - I thought the guy was gonna pull a fast one on me. But, when he turned around, it was just the kid I'd remember seeing walking home from school when I went to work. He never seemed like the type to be out at one in the morning in a place like that."
"What was he doing there?"
"That's what I asked and he just pointed at the grave in front of him." His brows drew together a little as Dr. Loomis looked toward him.
"Whose grave?" He prompted.
"Judith Meyers."
As Dr. Loomis looked out the window a child sauntered behind the footsteps of her mother, the red hooded cape tied about her thin neck billowed behind her. Her younger brother tailed none too far behind.
Eventually, he answered lamely, "Her murder is the obsession of all adolescents."
At that verdict, a grimace drew on both their faces.
"Yeah, well...It's just… I don't know - I thought it was more than that. Afterwards, I tried to call his house, but no one answered the phone." Bracket trailed off as he stopped at an intersection.
"What prompted you to-"
Brackett cut in sharply. "Turned out he didn't have a mom. Just him and Mr. Doe. Not many single parent families in Livingston County, so you could understand my concern. Eventually, I'd found out Mrs. Myers used to babysit Adam up until their car accident. He didn't have a mother figure for the rest of his childhood."
"Interesting," Dr. Loomis breathed. "Do you know anything else about them?"
Sheriff Brackett shrugged. "I didn't know Mr. Doe had a daughter until today. For years, it's just been him and his son, until the boy moved out of town."
"And Mrs. Doe?"
"I don't know. Maybe divorce, maybe death. I've never really bothered to look into the family, Sam. They've never done anything wrong. In fact, I see Mr. Doe at church — or I used to…" He gave a short, chopping laugh, but there was no drop of humor in it. "Before I stopped going."
The light turned green and Sheriff pressed on the gas.
"I know what you're thinking, but I don't have a reason to suspect them."
"And why is that?" Dr. Loomis asked testily. "That Bonfim boy… you'd said he had an obsession with Michael Myers. Why wouldn't we suspect Adam as well?"
Brackett grimaced. "That's different," he said, but the psychiatrist knew he was right regardless of the man's skepticism. "Myers is a psycho," was all the man said.
"Killing isn't the only way he claims his victims."
Sheriff Brackett's knuckles turned white on the steering wheel as he groaned deep in his throat.
The car took a sharp left turn on a red light.
Dr. Loomis braced himself, arm dangling from the roof handle.
"Where are we going?"
Sheriff Brackett let out a breath. "We're going to Mr. Doe."
"Do you know where he is?"
The man paid him a sidelong glance and smiled, but there was no drop of humor in that either.
"I read over Deeney's report this morning. Yeah, I know damn well where he is."