The rain had softened to a steady drizzle by the time the morning sun began to filter through the heavy clouds over Ashgrove. It wasn't much of a sunrise, just a pale glow that barely pierced the thick fog, but it was enough to stir life in the sleepy town.
Dr. Isaac Mercer stood in front of his bathroom mirror, shaving with slow, deliberate strokes. His reflection stared back at him, calm and collected, as if nothing could touch the man behind the face. He was always careful to maintain control, never allowing his inner thoughts to betray him. To the outside world, Isaac Mercer was a model of stability—a man dedicated to the well-being of others.
Yet as the razor slid across his skin, Mercer's thoughts wandered back to the man who had come into his office yesterday morning. The stranger who claimed to be hunted by Samuel Harker.
The name had lingered in Mercer's mind like an old wound, festering beneath the surface. Samuel Harker had been one of his most interesting cases, a man teetering on the edge of madness, but with a startling clarity that made him dangerous. He was the kind of patient Mercer found exhilarating—a challenge, a puzzle to dissect.
And now, Harker was free.
Mercer rinsed the razor and set it down on the sink, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the implications. Samuel wouldn't stay hidden for long. He had always been obsessed with Mercer, convinced that the doctor was responsible for things beyond his control. Delusions, they had said. Psychosis brought on by trauma.
But Samuel wasn't entirely wrong.
Mercer smiled faintly to himself, wiping his face with a towel. He had always enjoyed the way people underestimated him. It made his work so much easier. In Ashgrove, he was the trusted doctor, the man who had saved countless lives. No one would ever suspect the truth—that behind the compassion and care, there was something far darker at play.
He dressed carefully, selecting a charcoal suit that gave him an air of authority, and stepped out of his bedroom into the long hallway of his house. The walls were lined with paintings, most of them serene landscapes and portraits, all carefully chosen to project an image of refinement and taste. Everything in Mercer's life was curated, controlled, just as he wanted it.
As he made his way downstairs, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen—a text from Detective John Harmon, one of Ashgrove's most respected officers.
"Need to talk. Urgent."
Mercer's smile widened slightly. Harmon had always been predictable. They had known each other for years, ever since Harmon had moved to Ashgrove with his family. The detective had come to Mercer for therapy after a difficult case, and over time, their relationship had deepened. Mercer had always found Harmon useful—someone who could look the other way when necessary.
Mercer texted back a quick response: "Come by the office this morning." He had a feeling he knew what Harmon wanted to discuss.
Samuel Harker.
The thought intrigued Mercer. He had known Harker would eventually return to Ashgrove, seeking vengeance. What he hadn't expected was how soon. This could complicate things. Mercer had plans—long-term projects involving several patients. His latest "experiments" were yielding fascinating results, but if Harker disrupted that…
No, he wouldn't allow it. Samuel Harker was dangerous, but Mercer was more dangerous still. The town wouldn't see it coming. They never did.
Mercer arrived at his office just as Martha was opening up for the day. She greeted him with a polite smile, her usual nervous energy simmering just beneath the surface.
"Good morning, Doctor," she said, holding the door open for him.
"Good morning, Martha. Everything ready for today?" Mercer asked, stepping inside and brushing the rain off his coat.
"Yes, Doctor. Your first appointment is at nine, but Detective Harmon is waiting for you in your office. He said it was important."
Mercer nodded, already expecting this. "Thank you, Martha. Hold any calls for the next hour."
"Of course." Martha disappeared behind her desk as Mercer made his way down the hall to his office.
The door was slightly ajar, and through the crack, Mercer could see the silhouette of Detective John Harmon sitting in one of the leather chairs by the window. The detective's broad frame was hunched forward, his fingers steepled together as he stared out at the rain.
Mercer entered quietly, closing the door behind him. "John," he said smoothly, "what can I do for you?"
Harmon looked up, his face lined with worry. He had the look of a man who hadn't slept in days, his eyes bloodshot, his hair disheveled. "Isaac, we've got a problem."
Mercer moved to his desk, sitting down across from the detective. "Go on."
"It's Samuel Harker," Harmon said, his voice low. "He escaped."
Mercer's expression didn't change, but inside, he felt a flicker of satisfaction. "I heard about the escape. What makes you think he's coming here?"
Harmon ran a hand through his thinning hair. "I know him, Isaac. He's not just going to disappear. He's going to come back to Ashgrove. And when he does… he'll be looking for you."
"For me?" Mercer asked, feigning surprise. "Why would he come after me? I've done nothing but try to help him."
"You know Harker," Harmon said, his voice growing tense. "He's obsessed. He thinks you're… responsible for everything that's happened to him. The murders, his breakdown, all of it. He'll come for you."
Mercer leaned back in his chair, steeping his fingers together in a gesture of calm control. "I see. And what do you plan to do about it?"
Harmon sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I've already put out an alert. We're increasing patrols around town, especially near your office and home. If Harker shows up, we'll take him down."
Mercer nodded thoughtfully. "I appreciate your concern, John. But let's not be too hasty. Samuel is a disturbed man, yes, but he's also a victim of his own mind. If we handle this carefully, perhaps we can bring him in without any violence."
Harmon's brow furrowed. "Isaac, this man is dangerous. He's already killed before, and he'll do it again."
Mercer's lips curled into a subtle smile. "I know. But I also know that he sees me as more than just an enemy. He sees me as a… necessary part of his story. If I can speak with him, I might be able to reason with him. Convince him to surrender."
Harmon stared at him, his expression conflicted. "You really think you can talk him down?"
Mercer met the detective's gaze, his voice smooth and steady. "I do. Samuel Harker isn't a monster, John. He's a man who's lost his way. If I can reach him before the police do, I believe I can bring him back from the edge."
Harmon hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Alright. But we'll be watching. The moment Harker shows up, we move in."
"Of course," Mercer said, standing and extending a hand. "Thank you, John. I know you're only looking out for me."
Harmon shook his hand, his grip firm but tired. "Just… be careful, Isaac. This guy isn't like your other patients. He's dangerous."
Mercer's smile widened as Harmon left the office. He was careful, always careful. He knew exactly how dangerous Samuel Harker was.
But the detective didn't understand that the real danger wasn't Harker. It was Mercer.
And when the time came, Mercer would be ready.