Son of the Endless Night by John Farris

Author:John Farris [Farris, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: General, Fiction
ISBN: 9780450405754
Publisher: New English Library

48

Adam Kurland said, as soon as the visitors were settled in his corner office on the fourth floor of the Deerhorn Valley State Bank building in Braxton, "I think I should make it clear before we get into any discussions about Rich that I don't buy Conor's conviction that his brother is possessed by the devil. I was raised a Unitarian, and I'm not so sure there is any such thing as the devil."

He was sitting on one side of his worktable, an oval of mermaid-green onyx bound in rococco bronze. It was almost the size of a snooker table and looked as if it weighed as much as the bank's vault. All the furnishings in the large rectangular office were similarly old and eccentric-looking, two centuries worth of family hand-me-downs, but someone had coordinated all this eclecticism beautifully. The walls, paneled in squares of ornamental tin, and the cast-plaster ceiling had been painted a uniform butterscotch shade. The centered windows that overlooked the green were uncovered; the morning sunlight seemed blown-in, concussive in its brilliance.

Adam reached behind him and picked up a letter. "Maggie Renquist evaluated the first set of psychological tests Rich did for her when he got out of the hospital, and she's heard the tape Linds made two weeks ago. Based on his test responses she feels he's a classic paranoid schiz, capable of wildly divergent types of behavior. One of the personalities is the proverbial 'lost soul': weak, confused, unable to integrate his primal urges with the demands society has made on him. The other is a maniacal bully, given to outbursts of hostility and rage, which is how he solves his conflicts. He's very strong and agile, as we know, and contemptuous of human life and dignity. Rich calls him 'the demon.' Rightly so. It was a demonic impulse that resulted in Karyn's death. Titanic, unstoppable. But there are no significant religious implications, despite Rich's Catholic upbringing."

Father Merlo, who sat on a sleigh-shaped couch against one wall, an Egg McMuffin in a Styrofoam container in his lap, nodded amiably and glanced at Lindsay Potter, who was standing near the windows. She wore a tweed suit with an apricot blouse and a neat white rectangle of bandage high on her forehead. The direct light of the sun gave her averted face a look of scoured austerity.

Aware of his scrutiny, she said in a quiet voice, "I haven't been able to explain to myself— or to anyone else— what I saw; so I'll stay out of this."

Adam folded and refolded the psychologist's letter, lips pressed together in disapproval of her lack of support. A cabinet clock chimed: ten thirty.

"Maybe he is schizophrenic," Merlo said to Adam. "He could be a lot of things. Psychology's not my field. Neither is comparative theology. I'm trained to deal with certain phenomena I've found to be authentic, and at

Conor's request I'm here to meet with his brother. Under certain conditions. Otherwise I won't see him at all."

"What are those conditions?" Lindsay asked.

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