hi, please come in. thank you for coming.
i'm glad they finally sent someone, those hang-up calls have me terrified. they started right after i saw him. i looked him directly in the eye. there was a moment of mutual recognition.
it couldn't sound crazier, but who else?
the body? yes, they showed me some remains that had been hit by a pickup truck. the upper body was crushed. there was no face. i got physically ill. mrs. asher studies grace.
you're not canadian, are you?
there was three. about two weeks ago. i began turning off my telephone when i go to bed.
thank you. some of them have been in my family for several generations. please call me rebecca. grace looking at pictures on the wall of a good-looking, athletic kid. they stop at age fourteen.
no. that's reese. martin's older brother. he drowned in a terrible accident. grace notes a photo of a smiling young reese receiving a long distance swimming trophy.
the san michel river. martin fell out of their raft and reese jumped in to save him.
there was a lot of snowmelt that year. martin reached the bank. reese didn't. it was their fourteenth birthday.
they were twins. identical twins.
by three minutes. they were very different boys.
reese was very charismatic and outgoing. martin was introverted. he never thrived like reese. he was a very disturbed young man. reese was martin's world. martin never recovered his equilibrium after we lost him. he changed. martin began to intimidate me. he could be very menacing. he began imitating reese at school and that lead to fights with other students. at sixteen he stole some jewelry that was very precious to me and ran away. a few days later the thunder bay police called and said my son had been killed changing a tire.
i'll sign it. i already know somebody else's son is in that casket. the phone rings.
excuse me. mrs. asher crosses to the kitchen and answers. grace looking around, takes a look down a hallway. laughter o.s. as mrs. asher chats with a friend.
the bathroom is there. grace startles. mrs. asher is right behind her.
my friends call it the shrine. it can be difficult to let go.
he's killing people, isn't he? grace nods: yes. mrs. asher assumed as much.
no. it doesn't.
nineteen years ago i stood in this same room and your predecessor showed me a washtub full of blood and guts and told me it was my son. i will touch anything i want, doctor. i'm not going through this a third time. he hands her a pair of rubber gloves. mrs. asher snaps them on, she reaches for an eyelid, peels it back. stares into the clouded eye. mrs. asher reacts, quickly withdraws her hand.
it's not him. that's not my blood. you people are incredible. the medical examiner sighs, thinks she's a kook.
good idea, doctor. he's smarter than all of you, do you know that?
don't show me that, martin. i had rex put down after you ran away. martin, sit.
how dare you defy me. you will sit down on that couch and you will do it now. martin. asher sits. mrs. asher lays a hand on his, leans forward, her eyes intense and earnest.
martin, you have severe emotional problems. i know you're in a lot of pain. there's hope and help, martin. look at me, martin. i love you very much.