Pyrophobia Read online

  Jason was responsible for landing Doug Shatz in prison. Since then, Doug had seen the inside of other detention facilities, a fact confirmed for Jason by Lou Briggs. Doug was one of the few people Jason knew who he believed was capable of murder.

  Could Shatz have something to do with the photographs?

  Tracy. Carla. Jordan. Doug. So yes, there were more people than he initially thought who had cause to do him harm. These same four individuals knew about his anxieties. Nonetheless, he could not imagine any of the four sending him the photographs.

  Back to square one, Jason mused. He still had not the first clue in solving the mystery.

  Dejectedly, he walked back to Roosevelt Tower. During the elevator ride up to his floor, in the blink of an eye, his thoughts linked Doug Shatz’s madness to another instance of insanity, even further back in his past.

  Noam Morain.

  THIRTEEN

  Noam

  Noam was the older brother of Robin, Jason’s teammate in Little League. By everyone’s estimation, Robin Morain was the best player on the team and Jason was second best. Batting third and fourth, they had been the driving force behind the Red Sox.

  Robin had suddenly quit the team. At first, his coach and teammates were flabbergasted. Then word got out that Robin’s brother Noam had become seriously ill and had been rushed to the hospital in a coma. Although he had recovered in a physical sense, his brain had suffered badly from the illness. Initially Jason hadn’t believed it, until he accompanied Robin to the mental ward to which his brother had been admitted. Noam told them he was being followed around by a ghost that walked through walls. A phantom dressed in black chased him wherever he tried to flee. Noam called him the black horseman, and he had an elaborate theory about it. He was, in fact, convinced that the man in black was one of the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, from the Book of Revelations in the Bible. Noam claimed that he therefore must be one of the four plagues: War, Famine, Pestilence, or Death. Jason had never understood which of the four powers Noam believed his tormentor to be, but did it matter? Noam saw him, heard him, and was receiving orders from him to mutilate himself. He had cut his wrists, hung himself and stuck his fingers into an electrical socket. The horseman also whispered to Noam who his enemies and who his friends were. That probably explained why he could be so aggressive toward some people. Noam meekly did whatever the specter ordered him to do. His psychiatrists shrugged it off. They claimed that such behavior was the natural consequence of schizophrenia. If anything, it was a miracle that he had managed to survive these repeated incidents of self-mutilation. Noam Morain had slowly deteriorated. Jason had last seen him many years ago. His friend’s brother was still institutionalized then, heavily medicated to keep his psychoses in check.

  On one occasion, during a visit from Jason and Robin, Noam had suddenly jumped up from the chair he was sitting on and stared intently at Jason. His eyes shone with insane brilliance as he pointed a trembling finger at Jason and screamed, ‘Where are you? You’re not here!’

  He had never reflected much on what Noam had meant by that outburst, but now, twenty years later, he did.

  You’re not here.

  At the time, he had dismissed the words as the ravings of a disturbed young man.

  Only now did he realize that Noam, in his own way, was perhaps trying to tell him something important.

  You’re not here.

  You don’t exist.

  Two short sentences, with practically the same meaning. Jason suddenly remembered the outburst as if it had happened only yesterday. In his memory, Noam had stared right through him, straight into his soul.

  Jason left the elevator and surveyed the open-air office complex. Everyone was engrossed in his work, except for Tony, who was leaning back with his hands clasped behind his head, staring into space.

  He walked into his office and sat down. Had Robin’s brother seen something within Jason that normal people couldn’t see? There was only one way to find out. He had to try and contact Noam again. Where would he find his address? He wondered whether Morain was still alive. He sat down and opened his email software. From an early age, he had been meticulous in updating his address books, both in paper and digital formats, at home and at work. Within seconds, he found phone numbers for Robin Morain and his parents, but not for Noam. He couldn’t remember what had prompted him to remove it. Maybe the event he had just remembered had been such a shock for him that he had decided to delete the number and never to visit his old friend’s brother again.

  After college, he and Robin had lost track of each other, as people often do after college. Sad, because they had always gotten along so well. But such is life.

  He tried Robin’s number, to find it was no longer in service. Then he tried the number for Robin’s parents. To his relief, Jeannine answered. Jeannine was pleasantly surprised that Jason called. No, she hadn’t forgotten him, what was he thinking? Her husband Douglas had passed away some years ago, she told him. Robin was doing fine, however. Two years ago he had married a girl named Maggie, a redhead who worked in childcare. They were living in San Diego now, and Robin worked for SunTrust Banks.

  When Jason asked her how Noam was doing, Jeannine replied that he was doing just fine. In the late nineties he had been transferred to a facility in Anaheim, where he lived with other former patients. He could take care of himself – with some help, admittedly, but all in all he was getting by better than many people expected.

  Jeannine wanted to know everything about him. He told her a bit about his life and said that it was great in all areas. If she had asked him that same question a few days earlier, his answer would have been an honest one.

  Jeannine sounded as if she hadn’t changed a bit. Unless he begged off, he would wind up on the phone with her for an hour. But after fifteen minutes, she surprised him by asking him if he wanted Robin’s phone number.

  I’d rather have Noam’s, he thought, but then he would have to tell her why he wanted to talk to her eldest son. Besides, there was no harm in calling his old friend first. She gave him Robin’s business number and extension, as well as his home number. He thanked Jeannine, hung up, and punched in the number for Robin’s office.

  The door opened a crack and Carol and Tony peeked around the corner. When they saw him on the phone, they waved goodbye. He stole a glance at his watch. Quarter to six already. He hoped Robin was still at work.

  ‘Morain,’ a deep voice answered – a change from the throaty, piping voice of the prepubescent boy he had once known, but a voice Jason nonetheless recognized.

  ‘Robin! It’s Jason Evans.’

  There was silence. Jason waited.

  ‘It’s been a long time, Robin. Remember me?’

  The silence stretched before Robin responded somewhat pensively. ‘Jason? Is it really you?’

  ‘None other. A couple of years older, but still the same. Surprised?’

  ‘You might say that. How are you?’

  ‘No complaints. I just spoke to your mother – she gave me your number.’

  ‘Ah, and to what do I owe the honor?’

  ‘I’ll get to that in a minute. Man, it’s great to hear your voice again. I still remember the days on the Red Sox.’

  ‘We were the best,’ Robin chuckled. ‘It’s amazing to talk to you again after all these years. Do you play sports these days?’

  ‘No, not really, I can’t seem to find the time.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ Robin said. ‘I keep meaning to start up again, perhaps playing in a softball league, but I keep postponing it. I should, though. I’m developing kind of a spare tire.’

  ‘A spare tire? You?’ Jason smiled at the thought. ‘You were the skinniest of the bunch.’

  ‘Not any more I’m not. How about you?’

  ‘Can’t say I’m that svelte myself any more. That’s what age does to you.’

  They dove into their shared memories. It was almost as if they had last spoken to each other a week ago. Each filled in the o
ther about his life. Half an hour passed before Robin asked what had prompted Jason to call again after all these years.

  ‘I’d like to talk to Noam, Robin. Could you give me his address?’

  ‘Noam?’ Robin repeated. Jason could hear the bewilderment in his voice.

  ‘Jeannine tells me he’s living by himself now,’ Jason said.

  ‘With some assistance, yes,’ Robin said. ‘He can’t manage on his own. Why do you want to talk to him? What do you want from him?’

  ‘Look, I …’ Jason paused. ‘To be honest, I need Noam’s help.’

  ‘Help? From Noam? What for?’

  ‘It’s hard to explain,’ Jason said. ‘Kind of a complicated story. It’s because … He used to say some pretty funny things, didn’t he?’

  ‘Noam says funny things all the time,’ Robin responded. He hesitated. ‘Although they’re not always so very crazy.’

  Jason frowned. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  Robin coughed. ‘Well, the staff in the home where he lives tells me that he says things sometimes that turn out to be true. That he has an uncanny sense of what people are about. I have that same sense myself. He got one of the psychiatrists fired because the bastard couldn’t stop touching his patients. His young patients, if you know what I mean. Girls as well as boys, it didn’t matter. No one knew about it, except for Noam. No one had told him – the patients were too frightened to say anything to anybody – but he knew anyway. Weird.’

  ‘It sure is,’ Jason concurred.

  ‘Carina, one of the nurses who works with him, was very sad just recently because she had lost a relative. Noam told her that her loved one was still with her. He said that the deceased relative was right there in the room talking to Carina, and then he told her what this person was saying to her. Personal things that Noam could not possibly have known anything about. He scared the shit out of Carina, but she did admit that everything he had said was true.’

  Jason fell silent for a moment. ‘So is he psychic or something?’

  ‘You’d think so after hearing these things. He’s told me several times that I would “leave with red”. Maggie does have rather red hair, and I did leave my old home and move to San Diego with her, so … Believe what you want, but I think you’re spot-on.’

  Jason cleared his throat. ‘When we were kids, Noam said something that shook me pretty hard. I remembered it just now, and I need to know more about it. Robin, I know this sounds strange, but it’s important to me. Especially after what you’ve just told me.’

  ‘So what’s this about?’

  ‘Not like this – on the phone, I mean. It’s too personal and too complicated. I’d love to get together with you one of these days, like we used to. We really should. And the sooner the better.’

  ‘And that’s all you’re going to tell me?’

  ‘We’ll grab a beer soon, and then I’ll tell you all about it,’ Jason promised.

  Robin gave a loud sigh, signaling his frustration.

  ‘There’s one thing I will share now,’ Jason said, in an effort to convince Robin of the urgency of his request. ‘I’m being harassed. Not by Noam, don’t worry; but I think he may be able to help me.’

  ‘This is very mysterious, Jason. You’re making me curious, and not a little concerned.’

  A brief silence ensued.

  ‘OK. I trust you,’ Robin said at length. ‘What would you like to do? You want to call Noam?’

  ‘I’d rather go see him, actually. He’s living in Anaheim now, right? That’s an hour’s drive for me, tops.’

  ‘OK, but be careful how you approach him, Jason,’ Robin cautioned. ‘If he feels threatened or even uncomfortable, he’ll clam up. That often precedes the beginning of another bad spell, when his episodes return.’ Another pause, then: ‘Tell you what. Let me give him a call first.’

  ‘Thanks, buddy.’

  Robin called back ten minutes later. He had talked to Noam, who had said he remembered Jason well. A visit would be fine with him. Robin gave him Noam’s address and directions on how to get there. The phone call with Robin ended in a promise to get together soon.

  Jason stood and stretched. It felt good, finally being proactive instead of just waiting passively for the next shoe to drop. He called Kayla and told her he’d be home late because of a meeting. He said he had to run, and hung up before giving her an opportunity to ask what kind of meeting it was. Was it a lie? Yes and no, depending on one’s perspective. He thought about what she had said. Don’t ever keep secrets from me again. He was breaking his promise already.

  An hour later he met face to face with Noam Morain. In Jason’s memory, Noam had been Superman: muscular, very strong, a granite disposition. But at the time Jason had been about half his size. The man sitting at a rickety table – the only piece of furniture in the spartan room save for two chairs and a plain bed – appeared shriveled, a shadow of his former self. Where once he had possessed a mop of black hair, his scalp now looked withered and barren. Strands of poorly cut and lanky gray hair fell across his ears. His skin appeared sallow, unhealthy, wrinkled. Everything about him was bloated, obese and shapeless. He had put on a good fifty pounds.

  Had the black horseman inside his head transformed him that much?

  ‘Noam Morain?’ Jason asked, as if meeting a stranger for the first time.

  The man smiled. When the corners of his mouth turned up and curled slightly, Jason caught a brief glimpse of the old Noam. That was how he had always smiled. Maybe his body resembled an ill-fitting, oversized coat, but this was definitely him.

  ‘Yes,’ he confirmed.

  Jason pulled up the other chair and sat down.

  ‘Hi, Noam. I’m Jason Evans. Do you remember me?’

  Noam nodded.

  ‘How have you been?’

  The man shrugged. ‘Fine, I guess.’

  ‘That’s good to hear, Noam.’ Jason’s gaze shifted around the room as he collected his thoughts. When his eyes again locked on Noam’s he said, ‘Robin told me you were doing well.’

  ‘Yes,’ Noam said. ‘I am well, very well, thank you.’

  Jason tried to conjure up the image of how this man, in the throes of some terrible madness so long ago, had screamed out that he wasn’t there.

  And his eyes – he stared right through me. That was the worst part of it.

  Noam’s eyes looked lifeless now. He was pitiful, nothing more. Jason decided not to beat around the bush. The staff had restricted him to half an hour with Noam.

  ‘Noam, do you remember that I used to visit you before? When I was little?’

  He smiled and held his hand up to his chest to indicate that he had been quite a bit shorter in those days. Jason wasn’t expecting much, because he suspected that Noam’s memories would be spotty at best. Maybe coming here had been a bad idea, but now that he was here, he was determined to make the best of it.

  ‘When you were little,’ Noam said.

  ‘When I was little,’ Jason agreed.

  ‘When you were little …’

  Jason waited. He thought he could see a tiny flame flare up in Noam’s eyes.

  Noam chuckled. ‘I remember. I’m good with faces. Your face is different now, but I remember you.’

  ‘That’s good, Noam. I used to visit you sometimes, didn’t I? With Robin and your mom.’

  ‘Yes, you visited.’

  ‘And I liked to visit you, liked talking to you …’

  Noam nodded.

  ‘But you know,’ Jason continued, ‘there’s something I’ve been wondering about.’

  Jason felt like he was talking to a child – which, perhaps, he was. He took a deep breath. ‘One day when I visited you, you said something.’

  He tried to catch Noam’s eye, but the man was staring at the table.

  ‘You said … I wasn’t there,’ Jason said. ‘You asked me where I was. I was with you that day. We were face to face like we are now, but still you said I wasn’t there. As if I was somehow invisible. D
o you remember?’

  He expected Noam to say no. And then what? He wouldn’t have a clue what to do next.

  To Jason’s surprise, Noam replied, ‘Yes, you were playing hide-and-seek. You always do. Why is that?’

  Jason blinked. ‘I was playing hide-and-seek?’ He leaned forward, closer to the withered man. ‘What do you mean, I was playing hide-and-seek, Noam?’

  ‘I enjoyed it very much. And I’m doing fine now.’

  ‘Noam!’ Jason urged. ‘Can you hear me?’

  ‘I like it here. I have a pet, did you know that? I have a cat. Her name’s Joshi. She should be around here somewhere.’

  ‘Noam …’

  ‘She’s black, with white spots. Would you like to see her? Let me call her, and—’

  ‘What did you mean when you said I was playing hide-and-seek?’

  ‘She’s a very pretty cat, and so sweet,’ Noam continued happily, oblivious to the questioning.

  ‘Listen to me, dammit!’ Jason cried out.

  The effect was immediate. Noam’s eyes clouded over. The spark inside them flickered out and a shadow crossed over his face. It was exactly what Robin had warned him about.

  ‘Noam, I’m sorry I yelled at you. Please tell me, what did you mean?’

  Noam turned away and gazed at the wall.

  ‘Noam, please, I’m sorry.’

  No response. Jason stood and put a hand on Noam’s shoulder. ‘I’m really sorry I upset you, buddy.’

  Noam cringed and remained mute.

  ‘You’re not going to talk to me any more, are you?’

  The man just sat there and stared, at nothing.

  ‘Me and my big mouth,’ Jason mumbled. ‘I got what I deserved.’