Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the property of CBS and are only used for fan related purposes. Any dialogue from the second episode, "Crackle", included is used only to further the story.

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Inside a Broken Mind

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The killings were the easy part. It was all of the lies and the pretending that tested his control.
The events of Harper’s Island through Henry’s eyes.

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ix. crackle, part three;

The cabin Maggie Krell assigned him was a beautiful one, impeccably cleaned regardless of her concerns, cozily furnished and even just a bit remote from the main inn. If it wasn’t for the fact that it would be one of the first places checked if things went wrong, it could have been the perfect home for his happily-ever-after with Abby.

Not, he told himself, that anything would go wrong. Henry Dunn just prided himself on always being prepared.

It was on the edge of the trees, the first in a line of many. He had seen Thomas Wellington out on the porch of a cabin a few down from his when he arrived and couldn’t help but shake his head. He should’ve known that Trish’s father would convince Maggie to rent him a cabin while the rest of the guests stayed in the much smaller rooms inside the Candlewick.

Henry appreciated the solitude anyway, the distance and the space that would be his for the next couple of days. If there was one thing, however, that would have made it even better it was if he had agreed to let Abby come down to the cabin with him.

It nearly killed him to leave her alone outside room 209. For reasons he could fully understand—he hadn’t forgotten his quick and secret foray into her bedroom with Wakefield’s article in hand—he could tell that she wasn’t all that interested in spending the afternoon by herself in there. She innocently invited him in; he regrettably had to refuse. He didn’t feel comfortable entering the room after betraying her trust—besides, as he explained to her, he was anxious enough to see the new cabin Maggie had just given him the key to.

He wondered if she would ask why he was moving out of his old room but, though he thought Abby appeared curious, she didn’t ask. Forever following every letter, every idea of his precious plan, he purposely neglected to tell her that the new cabin was for him and him alone. There was no way he could let anyone—not even Abby—think that he was anything less than head over heels for Trish. The time would come when she knew why Henry really could bear to be separated from Trish… it just wasn’t time yet.

Still, for someone who knew her as well as Henry knew her, it was easy to see she was disappointed. Or, maybe he was just so desperate not to let any opportunities pass him by that he had to invite her to come by the cabin once he was settled. Abby looked delighted at the prospect, her dark eyes lighting up in that way he always adored and was seeing again for the first time since she arrived back on Harper’s Island.

When she graciously accepted, Henry had struggled to rein in his urge to reach out and pull her close to him, to smell her hair and feel her warmth against his chest. He felt empty without her, aching to sling his arm around her waist, tell her he’ll always be there for her and maybe even kiss her neck like he’d wanted to do for too long now. But he didn’t. There would be time enough later for all that.

There would be time enough when they had forever.

So, accepting her promise to come visit him later, Henry had finally torn himself from Abby’s lovely company and gone to the room he shared with Trish the night before for his luggage and anything else he would need now that he would be sleeping alone. There wasn’t much but, from experience, Henry knew that Trish was a bit of a pillow hog and, feeling a touch spiteful, he took all the extras for his new bed.

Her cell phone was still resting on the nightstand. He came very close to also taking that with him before deciding to leave it behind. He wasn’t sure if she was forgetting the phone on purpose or if she still hadn’t gone back to the room—trying not to picture Hunter Jennings’ smarmy grin, Henry pretended that it didn’t matter to him in the least what Trish was up to.

Besides, he knew that he would have enough to answer to when Trish discovered he’d followed through on her casual suggestion and moved out of their room. He didn’t want to have to explain how her phone got mixed up with his belongings when he left, too.

Keeping up his charade, Henry made sure to leave a note behind on the bed in case Trish returned to find him gone before he had the chance to tell her about the cabin himself. He told her how great of an idea it was in afternoon’s light, and how Maggie had also agreed before jotting down the room number and a seemingly heartfelt—if entirely meaningless—invitation for Trish to meet him by the cabin when she got his note.

Between the prospect of Abby coming down and Trish, Henry knew which visit he was anticipating more…

Unpacking didn’t take as long as he thought it might’ve, with him enjoying the realization that it was like he was actually, finally moving to the island to stay. Henry kept his empty luggage out in one of the far corners just in case it became necessary to get out of there quickly. The extra pillows were stacked high, begging him to lie down and have a small nap.

He was almost tempted to listen to them.

After his late meeting with his father and his early rising that morning Henry was tired. He wanted nothing more then than to just lie down and close his eyes if only for a second—but he didn’t. He had the feeling that if he fell asleep now, nothing short of someone being murdered right outside his room would wake him up in time for him to make it to the bonfire Maggie organized for after the scavenger hunt ended. And, as much as he would’ve liked to, he couldn’t miss that.

But how should he fill the time between now and then?

He could honestly say he had no idea where Trish was, and Abby was surely still in her room. Despite her confession that her entire team had quit the scavenger hunt, Henry hadn’t seen any of the wedding guests since they all set off that morning. His belongings were tucked neatly in his new cabin, and he didn’t expect to hear from his father for some time. Which still begged the question: what should he do now?

There wasn’t much for him to do regarding the plan just yet. He left his meeting with Wakefield with only the death of Reverend Fain in mind, and that was already done. He could go and prepare for Thomas Wellington’s murder by rigging the light switch in the church, but it didn’t seem like the right time to accomplish that just yet. Whether the reverend was alive to welcome the guests to the church or not, the First Church of Harper’s Island was one of the four stops on the scavenger hunt. It would be next to impossible to set up the head spade to fall during the wedding rehearsal with everyone poking around.

Henry frowned. Thinking of the scavenger hunt and thinking of his ennui made his thoughts turn (as usual) back to Abby and the reason she gave as to why she gave up on the morning’s activities. Maybe, he thought, it wasn’t any aspect he had discussed with Wakefield, but Henry decided it would be best if he did what he could to put Shane Pierce in line. He couldn’t have the ornery local messing with his family because he was bitter that he didn’t find Harper’s Island to be the magical place Henry thought it was.

Though it might mean he missed Abby’s impending visit—she did promise—Henry found himself heading right out the front door of his cabin. Locking up behind him, he told himself that things would go more smoothly for everyone if none of his guests had to worry about Shane giving them a hard time. Henry had been annoyed last night to hear that Shane and J.D. had already gotten into fight. Picking on Abby in the Cannery was the last straw.

He knew exactly where to find Shane, too. With the Cannery booked for the scavenger hunt—and it still being too early for even Shane to slink down to the bar for a drink—there was only one other place he could be. And, if it happened that Henry got the chance to finally run into Jimmy again after all this time… well, that was just a bonus.

Henry had wondered last night just how he could have ever forgotten about Jimmy Mance and, as he walked purposely in the direction towards the docks, he thought he might just understand. When Charlie Mills banished his own daughter from her—their—home, the only upside Henry ever found was the distance that suddenly appeared between Abby and her wretched boyfriend. When Abby, living in Los Angeles with her grandmother, made it seem like she forgot all about Jimmy and her old life, Henry—her kind, shoulder to cry on best friend—was only too happy to oblige her.

Not that he was foolish enough to believe that she really had forgotten him. Jimmy, as much as Henry hated to admit it, was Abby’s first love (apart from him, of course). Like he would never truly be able to banish Trish from his mind when she stopped being so useful, Jimmy’s memory still lingered, like a fungus that wouldn’t die.

Henry had thought, however, that he could get through this entire week without Abby seeing her old flame—since it would be that much harder for her when Henry did get the chance to kill him—but he knew that that was out of the question now. Just the way Abby said his name last night by the fireside told Henry that Jimmy would be far more trouble than he was worth, and even then he wasn’t worth anything more than pity and disdain in Henry’s quite generous opinion. What was worse was that, now she had met him, it would be a rash man’s actions to kill him right away. She would know, she would understand everything then, and he couldn’t have that. Not yet, at least.

It was one secret it hurt him to keep, but he kept it nevertheless.

So, no matter how much he told himself that he wanted to take the matter of Shane Pierce into his own hands, he couldn’t deny his ulterior motives. He saw how the memory and reappearance of the fisherman had affected Abby after a chance meeting at the Cannery. He would be lying if he told himself he didn’t care what Jimmy thought about Abby after all these years.

The walk to the edge of the island was reviving, brisk and invigorating as it was. Just being on Harper’s Island had the ability to keep him calm. It was as if a piece of him that was always missing when he was in Tacoma or Seattle suddenly settled back into place once he was home again.

Home…

As he got closer to his chosen destination, he saw the same faded Shelton S Bay sign he remembered from his summers on the island, and the rocks upon rocks that surrounded the docks. The wooden planks groaned familiarly under his weight, like a greeting to a long lost friend. The salty sea air reminded Henry of a time when things weren’t so damn complicated.

There was a small white fishing boat moored at the end of the dock: the Sea Jay. Henry recognized the dark-haired fisherman busy spraying down the deck immediately, his hands clenching into tight fists at first sight of him. There was no sign of Shane anywhere, but Henry barely registered his absence. He had his sights set on Jimmy alone.

He gave himself a quick shake, relaxing, letting his hands unfold and his arms hang loosely at his sides. This would, he knew, would only work with a carefree countenance and an interested, friendly expression. After a moment’s hesitation, he took a deep breath and instantly became the Henry Dunn he was certain Jimmy expected him to be.

“Permission to come aboard?” he called cheerily.

And there he stood: Jimmy Mance, the only real rival he’d ever had for Abby’s attention. In his silly rubber boots, an old, worn navy blue thermal shirt and a pair of jeans that reeked of fish no matter how many times they were washed, Jimmy lifted his head in surprise at Henry’s voice.

Unlike Trish, Jimmy was no skilled actor. He wore his heart out on his sleeve for everyone to see and, just then, Henry could see that Jimmy was less than thrilled to see him coming.

Good.

Jimmy recovered nicely, shooting Henry a fake grin and letting his hose fall to the side. He went to turn off the water pump, but he didn’t say a word.

Henry took Jimmy’s silence to mean permission was granted—not that it was needed, or that he would’ve listened if the fisherman grew a spine and said no—and brazenly stepped aboard the small vessel. Then, because Jimmy still hadn’t spoken, he said appreciatively about the boat, “Nice. This is yours?”

He was impressed at how casual, how well-meaning he sounded. But it wasn’t a surprise. Henry was an expert at making small talk with anyone. After spending so many years with Trish and her family, he had to be.

“Yeah,” Jimmy said, the pride evident in his voice. It was a casual movement as he nudged the hose even closer to the boat’s edge and, turning toward the white stack on the other side, grabbed a pile of rope. Easily, he tossed it right at Henry—who, instinctively primed to be competitive, caught it just as easily. “Finally ponied up, got it last spring.”

The feel of the rope sitting comfortably in his hands, the hemp tightly woven and salt-stained from the ocean water, had the power of freezing time and turning the hands of the clock back for Henry. Suddenly he was sixteen again, seventeen, spending his summers on a boat just like this one, being best friends with Abby and hoping, praying that one day she would see how much better he’d be for her than dumb old Jimmy Mance.

Like they had a mind or a memory of their own, remembering those days and the testosterone-laced jealousy of being the unknown other man—and Trish’s boyfriend at the same time—he began to coil the rope up, looping it and wrapping it as if it was his dingy little boat he was tending to.

“I’m jealous,” he said. Even as the words were come out Henry knew he meant them—but he also knew that he wasn’t talking about the boat.

“I hear you’re doing just fine.”

“I’m doing okay.” The fake smile and the caution in Jimmy’s dark eyes didn’t go by unnoticed but, as the corners of his own mouth turned up in a genuine grin, Henry could only feel pleasure and excitement at the direction his life was going and what he had to look forward to in the days to come.

And then understanding that the two of them were thinking about two different things came to him and he blurted out, “Oh, you mean the wedding.”

Jimmy turned his attention to his brush as he started to scrub the deck. “Let’s just say that not every deckhand ends up marrying a princess.”

Hmm, Henry wondered, maybe he wasn’t the only one who was jealous...

He scoffed then, recognized that was the wrong reaction to Jimmy’s comment, and quickly tried to cover it up with a soft, strangled laugh. It seemed like the perfect opportunity for him to cut right to the chase. “Hey, listen, um… I wanted to come down here just to make sure we’re still cool.”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t we be?”

Why? Because Abby still loves you, Henry silently countered. Because she thinks of you in a different way than she thinks of me. Because you’re a local and I’m just a summer guy. Because—

“Well, my brother and Shane got into it last night,” he said out loud.

“Okay. That’s been going on since we were kids.” Jimmy looked amused, as if he found Henry’s concern funny. Henry wished he could drop the rope, reach out and smack that smirk of his right off Jimmy’s face. “Come on. That’s never affected you and me.”

Henry swallowed back his annoyance, replacing it with his good guy smile. He had to maintain control. He had to remember why he was here. “Still. I had a talk with J.D. earlier, asked him to cool it ‘til after the wedding.”

Jimmy was silent for a second. He picked up a second length of rope and, with practiced hands, started to coil it even faster than Henry. “If you’re asking me to talk to Shane…” This time his laugh was genuine, as was the winning smile on his face. Henry hated it even more than the smirk. “That’s not gonna change anything. It’s just the way he is. Come on, you worked with him. You know how he is.”

“Yeah.” Well, Henry mused, that went as well as he could’ve expected. But, at least it could never be said he didn’t try to warn Shane… “Um, so, listen, we’re having a party tonight.”

Jimmy finished up with his rope first, looping it before tying it with a loose knot. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. A bonfire, down at Harmon Beach, should be fun. If you and Shane want to come by, hang out… we’ll have a lot of food, cold beer…”

“I don’t know. Tonight’s going to be tough.”

There it was, that heart on his sleeve again. Jimmy looked away, but not before Henry could read every expression, every thought written across his face. No doubt Abby would be there—but a festivity for Henry’s upcoming wedding was not the place he wanted to see her again. It would only be another reminder.

Which, of course, was one reason why Henry made sure to invite him, but he wasn’t about to admit to that. So, taking his time now to finish tying off his own rope, he said, “Okay. Just wanted to invite you for old time’s sake.” Then, with a small shrug, handed Jimmy back the rope.

“Appreciate it.”

Feeling his work was done and his presence no longer necessary (or particularly wanted), Henry took the opportunity to leave the Sea Jay. He took one, two steps down the docks before he paused. Maybe, he though, rubbing a little salt in Jimmy’s old wounds would make him feel a little better about his time spent.

He didn’t even turn around. “Abby’ll be there,” he offered, tossing her name out like bait to try and snare the fisherman on his dangling hook.

Jimmy’s sigh was quiet but not so quiet that Henry’s cocked ear didn’t pick it up. Jimmy shouldered the rope as if it was nothing compared to the weight already on his mind as he frowned. “Like I said: I don’t know.”

Henry couldn’t stop his grin from slipping out behind his façade. He was right. He did feel better.

--

The grin was short-lived.

Feeling much lighter than before, and with a spring in his step that had been missing for most of the morning, he left the docks and its annoying fisherman behind him in favor of returning to his newly rented cabin. He’d held out the hope that, when he got back, Abby might be there waiting for him and, for just a heartbeat, when the doorknob turned easily under his hand and the door popped open without a push, that’s exactly what he thought had happened. Too anxious to spend more time with her, it never even occurred to him that the door should’ve been locked.

But no dark-haired beauty was waiting for him inside; not even the brunette he’d expected to see instead. Which was odd, considering those two were the only ones—apart from Maggie, that is—who knew that this cabin belonged to him for the rest of the week.

Abby was too considerate and too kind to barge in and enter the cabin without her host to receive her; knowing Trish, she would’ve made herself at home immediately. Because of that very reason, it was his fiancée’s name he called first.

“Trish?” He looked around again before calling for her a second time, and then a third.

There was no answer. Just about to take a further look around the empty cabin himself, Henry dropped his gaze in time to notice the slippery wet crimson trail that started in the middle of the floor. It continued towards the closed door across the way, a straight line as if something—someone—had been struck down and dragged to the bathroom.

Henry’s heart skipped a beat. Just like his worries from that morning, when he thought his father might’ve gotten ahead of himself and gone after Trish, he suddenly feared for the worst. What if… what if Abby had let herself in? What if…

He could feel the way the nervous beads of sweat popped up along his brow, the way his breathing ran shallow, the way his face twisted into a fearful expression. Slowly, more than wary of what he would find behind the closed bathroom door, he reached for the handle. Like the front entrance, it was barely closed and it pushed open easily. Taking a deep breath and praying for the best, he crossed the threshold—

—and found only more blood.

The trail continued across the tiles, the red staining the ground, dripping up the side of the formerly pristine porcelain bathtub, a grisly lead to an unwelcome scene. Henry felt as if he had swallowed something too big to go down; his breath hitched as he tiptoed closer. He hesitated on the brink, not really wanting to look but knowing he had to, before leaning forward and peering over at the floor of the tub.

There was a deer head in his bathtub.

A deer head in his bathtub.

It was like a sucker punch to his gut, the dead glassy eyes staring back up at him, the pool of blood welling up underneath. It wasn’t human, but that made the scene even worse. Severed from its body and left behind as some sick sort of joke or… or even warning, someone, some sick bastard, had placed a deer head in his bathtub.

Henry Dunn was a murderer; he had accepted that fact long ago. He killed because he had to, making sure every death had a purpose. Whether the kills were used to better him at his craft or to ensure he got what he wanted in the end, he barely felt any remorse for those who had to die. But, if there was one thing he never did, it was go after someone who didn’t deserve it.

What in the world could a deer have done to deserve this? Better yet: what did he do to deserve this?

It made him sick to find such a display set up for him. And it wasn’t the blood, either. Reverend Fain bled far more than that and he hadn’t batted an eyelash. Maybe, he thought, it was because it was a defenseless animal slaughtered to send him a message, or maybe it was because he was tensed to discover Abby in the scene, but Henry felt the heady anger bubble and rise up until his hands were shaking and his fists were clenched tight.

Someone would pay for this, he vowed. And cutting off their head would be too quick of a death for them…

Still, he couldn’t help but find it ironic that, after decapitating the old reverend that morning and leaving the body for his father to dispose of, it was up to him to find a way to get rid of a deer head. If he wasn’t so busy fuming over the sight and stewing over who could have done this to him—who and why—he might’ve even spared a dry chuckle over the circumstances.

There was no laughing, no grins, as Henry turned his back and the tub. His mind already racing, his eyes scanning the small bathroom for something to use to get rid of the head, Henry knew he had to clean up the mess before he could even start planning revenge on the deserving fool who did this to him.

He was like a robot, his actions mechanic. Not wanting to ruin his good purple shirt he stripped down to his white undershirt, vaguely angry that he would be throwing another shirt away that day. Luckily for him, Maggie’s cleaning staff had left behind some of their supplies; Henry was grateful for their mistake. He borrowed a fistful of garbage bags—from experience, he knew he would need more than were probably there—and a pair of yellow rubber gloves to keep his hands clean. And then he got to work.

Lost in his thoughts, lost in his anger and lost in the plans of how he would get revenge against whoever had done this to him, he was so focused on the gruesome task of cleaning up the spilt blood that he didn’t hear the front door swinging the rest of the way open or the soft, tentative footfalls of his forgotten guest.

“Hello?”

But he did hear her voice when she called, and his heart recognized it before his fury-clouded mind had. It thumped-thumped against his chest and he froze, suddenly determined not to let her see the mess he was cleaning up.

“Abby?” he called, drawing to his feet and popping his head out of the open bathroom door. It was her all right, lingering just inside the cabin. Dropping the garbage bag he was working with down under the sink, he tried to hide what he was doing. “Hey.”

He didn’t do a very good job.

“Everything okay?” she asked him.

Henry yanked his gloves off, added them to the mess on the floor and quickly stepped into the cabin’s foyer. Pulling the door shut behind him, blocking off the view, he hesitated under the curious gaze of Abby’s dark eyes. “Uh, yeah,” he started before changing his mind and changing his answer, “… no.” He couldn’t lie to her. Still shaken from the idea that it could’ve been her body, her blood all over the floor, Henry couldn’t find it in himself to lie to her anymore. He shook his head. “No,” he admitted. “Someone put a deer head in our tub.”

“What?”

His anger was like a rush to the head and he only just managed to remember what lies and untruths he’d already led her to believe; he was angry, but he wasn’t irrational. “Can you imagine if Trish would’ve come back and found this instead of me?” he asked. Even his voice was still shaking. “Uh… listen, I need to finish cleaning this up before she gets back.”

He felt guilty, hurrying her out like that, but he had invited Trish down. He definitely didn’t need her swanning in and stumbling across such a macabre scene, think—know—that something was wrong and start asking questions. No matter what it took he had to keep up appearances. Nothing was allowed to go wrong. Nothing would go wrong.

Abby looked troubled but she didn’t leave. Frozen to her spot, she watched as he turned away from her. A pause and then: “Jimmy and Shane were hunting deer this morning.”

It struck Henry what she had given him apart from just offering up those two names. She’d given him her loyalty, siding with him over the local boys she knew growing up. When it came down to protecting Jimmy Mance and Shane Pierce or helping Henry, she chose him.

But he could barely appreciate it. Her admission was like a lit match put to the tip of dynamite Henry had worked up the entire time he spent cleaning up the blood: it took a few seconds for the fuse to burn and then he exploded. His back had been to her, his hand poised to reach for the handle, but all that changed. He froze for a moment, the fuse caught, and then he let it ignite.

Balling his hand back up into an angry fist, he reared back and punched the bathroom door with as much forced as he could muster. The blow echoed behind him as he spun around. Any control he’d managed to hold onto had vanished in a puff of smoke. “Son of a bitch!” he cried. “J.D. was right.”

Henry was halfway to the door when Abby realized where he was going—and how angry he would be when he found Shane and Jimmy. She reached out to stop him, touching his arms with a feather-light grip. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, Henry, hang on. Let me talk to them. The last thing you need is a fight with those guys.”

“No,” he argued through gritted teeth, “the last thing I need is a deer head in my bathtub.”

“No, please… please, let me help. Take care of that before Trish sees it. I’ll go talk to Jimmy.”

He didn’t trust himself to answer her. Breathing heavily out through his nose, he let her think he agreed with her suggestion—even if he thought it was the worst thing he’d heard all day. They were both wrong, he fumed. The last thing he needed was to give her another excuse to go find Jimmy.

There was nothing he could do, though, not without showing her more of his true intentions than he felt she should know at that point. Still furious, he waited until she ran out the door before he whirled around and punched the bathroom door a second time. He wanted to follow her, to stop her, but that was undoubtedly out of the question. So, blood rushing to his ears and pain rushing to his hand, he went back to the mess.

Shane… he should’ve known. It was so obvious. He was a local; Maggie Krell had seen him grown up on the island. If she was willing to give Henry a key to get into Abby’s room, what would stop her from telling him where he could find anyone else? Him… J.D… any of the guests. She wouldn’t even have to give him a key, either. There were a couple of tricks Shane knew to get around stubborn, pesky things like locked doors; Henry had even seen him show off one or two when they were kids.

And who’s to say that he was even going after Henry? It didn’t matter. But, thinking like Shane, it made sense: if he couldn’t get at J.D., why not go after the brother? He couldn’t have slipped inside the Candlewick with a bloody deer head, but it only took seconds to break inside a cabin and leave his cocky warning behind.

Perfect sense.

Henry felt the incensed growl build up in the back of his throat. Without anyone to witness it, he let the violent sound out, huffing and grumbling as an unexpected snag in his plan made things even more difficult for him. It was one thing for Shane to pick a fight with J.D.; another for him to go after Abby. He’d tried to make peace, only to run into Jimmy.

Well, at least he knew why Shane wasn’t down at the docks earlier…

He kicked aside the garbage bag full of bloody towels and scattered the strewn gloves across the floor. It took him a few tough seconds to get his temper back in check, his anger back under control. Then, when his breathing was even and his hands not so itchy to wring Shane’s neck right out, he dared a glance down. Henry looked at where the deer’s head had laid in the tub one last time and made himself a promise.

For Shane Pierce, he didn’t have to maintain his appearances. He wanted everyone to know just how much he hated that bastard.

Author's Note: I've been working on this chapter nonstop for the last two weeks. It's the one I've been waiting for -- Jimmy and Henry in the same scene, *squee* -- and it had to work just so. Plus the first scare that Henry didn't have a hand in... gotta love it. Or, at least, I hope you did. It was another lengthly one but, since I'm going to be focusing on my NaNo novel for the next 30 days, I thought it should be. Hopefully I'll finish before that so I can get cracking on the last part of Crackle. Until then... Happy Halloween! Wish me luck with NaNoWriMo ;) (if anyone else is doing it, my username is: cursetheflame -- let's be buddies!)

-- stress, 10.31.09