Black Heart (3 page)

“
Police are on their way, echo 14. Fire rescue is on its way as well
.”

“I need a hand!” Jeff yelled.

Tom stood up and almost immediately doubled over from pain. He steadied himself by

holding onto the back of the seat and shutting his eyes when the pain surged throughout his

body and threatened to knock him back on his ass. After a minute the pain lessened and he

was able to open his eyes. He quickly found his partner still wrestling with the kid at the

back doors. Blood was trickling from Jeff’s nose and the kid was hanging from the back of

the ambulance while Jeff held onto his legs. The only thing that he couldn’t see was the

woman.

“Ma’am?” he said.

Nothing.

Muttering a few choice words, Tom climbed over the passenger seat and jumped out of

the ambulance. He made his way to the backdoors in time to grab the little boy just as he

was about to kick Jeff in the face.

“Gotcha!” Tom said. He pulled the kid away from the ambulance, ready for anything.

Halfway to the ground, he noticed something odd. The kid wasn’t fighting anymore.

Thinking that it was a trick, he quickly pinned the kid’s arms against his body and held him

on the ground. After a minute, the boy’s breathing became more relaxed. He watched as

the boy opened his eyes and looked around, seeming to avoid the direction of the

ambulance and house at all costs.

What the hell?

“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” the little boy suddenly said, sounding close to tears.

He looked down at the now upturned face of the little boy that he was holding. Looking

into the kid’s bright green eyes he sensed overwhelming sadness, too much sadness for a

kid this young. He felt lost looking into those eyes. All he could think about was the time

that his son had broken his arm falling out of a tree and how much pain Denny had been in.

Having a good idea what the kid needed, he turned the boy around in his arms and

hugged him as he stood up. The kid hugged him back and began to cry, his small body

trembling as he held on tightly to him. Tom gently rubbed the boy’s back, trying to soothe

him.

“It’s okay, buddy.” Tom repeated while walking away from the ambulance and

headed for the road. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

-
-
-

Julie watched as the paramedic comforted her son. It was odd, she knew that she

should be running over there and taking Tristan into her arms and comforting him, but she

couldn’t seem to force herself to do it. She felt a sense of peace from knowing that her son

was being cared for and at the same time not having to be the one to do it. With a sense of

relief, she turned around and walked into the house. Shaun greeted her at the door with a

look of understanding. They didn’t need to say anything. They walked in the house and

closed the door behind them.

They were done.

Chapter
1

23 Years Later………

“Tristan, is there anything that you’d like to discuss today?” Dr. Bryne asked, the words

leaving his mouth with very little effort or thought, thanks to twenty years of practice. He

settled back in his favorite faux brown leather chair and looked through the thick personnel

file on his lap that he technically wasn’t supposed to have access to, but given the patient

that he was dealing with, it had been agreed that a few rules needed to be broken.

After a moment of silence, he looked up from his notes to find the patient he’d been

dying to get on his couch for years, lying on the couch across from him reading a book,

obviously set on ignoring him once again. At least this time Tristan wasn’t just sitting there

glaring at him. Even Dr. Bryne had to admit that had been a little unnerving, especially the

way Tristan just sat there never saying a word or moving a muscle as he glared at him for

the entire hour. Not that Dr. Bryne would ever admit this, but that one session had almost

scared him off this case.

Almost.

“Tristan, this is your third appointment in the last week and a half and you have yet to

participate in a conversation. I think it would be beneficial for you to talk about something

that's bothering you,” he said, not really expecting much of a response as he returned his

attention back to the thick file resting on his lap, not because he was afraid of another

glaring match. He wasn’t, he decided, thankful that the file was so thick that it would

probably take him the entire session to read through it, again, and give him a reason to

focus on anything other than his patient.

“Can it be anything?” Tristan suddenly asked, surprising him. He hadn’t actually

expected Tristan to say anything. Perhaps he was finally about to make some real progress

with this stubborn patient. At least, he hoped that was the case.

For years, he’d been dying for a chance to get inside Tristan’s head. He hoped to help

Tristan open up, get in touch with his feelings, and learn to express himself in a calm,

productive manner. At the very least, he hoped to help Tristan to stop being such an

asshole.

Tristan slowly replaced his bookmark and sat up as he considered the doctor. He opened

his mouth and abruptly closed it. He shook his head slightly before he looked around the

room, his gaze pausing on the large bay window behind the desk and then on the door that

led to the waiting room.

The only two exits from the room.

“Now, you’re serious about anything that's bothering me?” Tristan asked, shooting

another glance towards the door.

“Yes, of course. Please feel free to talk about anything that’s bothering you,” Dr. Bryne

replied, feeling almost giddy at the prospect of finally getting this patient to open up about

something, anything. He’d been dying to discover what made Tristan tick since the moment

Tom had introduced him to his adopted son, his very pissed-off adopted son. Dr. Bryne

knew without a doubt, that given a chance, he could fix Tristan. Now it looked like he was

about to get it.

“I don’t even know where to start," Tristan said, rubbing his hands roughly down his

face. “This is pretty serious, Dr. Bryne. I need to know that I have your complete

confidence here, because what I have to say is pretty disturbing,” he explained before

adding in a harsh whisper, “maybe too disturbing.”

This had to be the breakthrough that he’d been waiting for. It was a start at least, he

decided as he slowly moved to the edge of his seat, placing the file on the table so that he

could give Tristan his full attention.

“What would you like to talk about, Tristan?” Dr. Bryne asked in what he hoped was an

encouraging tone and not one that betrayed his excitement.

Tristan looked down at his hands and, after a slight pause, shook his head. A moment

later he looked up at the doctor, appearing stressed as he ran his hand through his carefully

styled, short blonde hair, messing it up and making it look a little wild. “Doctor, I don’t

know what I’m going to do.”

“Go on,” he said quickly, yet encouragingly, not wanting Tristan to stop, not now, not

after waiting all these years for this moment.

“I keep getting these uncontrollable urges to do bad things, but you have to understand

that it’s not my fault. It’s the bunnies. They’re telling me to do them,” he whispered

hoarsely, shooting nervous glances around the room as he spoke.

“Bunnies?” Dr. Bryne repeated slowly, sure that he'd misheard Tristan.

“Yes, pink bunnies.”

“
Pink
bunnies?”

“They just keep telling me to do these awful things,” Tristan whispered softly, barely

loud enough for him to hear.

“Tristan, what types of things have they told you to do? Has anyone been hurt?” Dr.

Bryne asked, suddenly nervous and for good reason.

“I wish I could tell you no, but yes, people have been hurt. It’s really bad,” Tristan said,

sounding a little panicked.

Dr. Bryne didn’t say a word as he sat there, shocked and admittedly more than a little

frightened. Almost too afraid to find out what Tristan was about to reveal.

“Dr. Bryne, there have been beatings, vandalisms, and of course I can’t forget about the

sacrifices. Pink bunnies require a lot of human sacrifices.”

Dr. Bryne slowly sat back in his chair as his head started to spin. He was frightened,

more like terrified. Never in his twenty years of experience had he ever dealt with anything

like this before.

“Dr. Bryne, they beat me,” Tristan confessed in a harsh whisper.

“Beat you?” he asked, his voice cracking as panic took over. He wasn’t ready for a

patient like this. He should have listened to his wife when he’d had the chance and refused

this case.

“The bunnies. They beat me silly when I don’t do what they want. They slap me around

like a red headed stepchild. The spankings are awful. They leave little bunny paw prints all

over my ass!” Tristan’s cold gaze locked on him as he explained, “Dr. Bryne, the reason I'm

telling you this is because they want me to do something really bad right now and I thought

that it was only right to warn you.”

Terrified, he ran his eyes ran over Tristan’s large frame. The man was huge, covered in

solid muscle and unfortunately for him, a highly trained police officer. There was no way

that he would be able to fight him off. Not to mention that he was pretty sure the man was

currently armed. He slowly stood up and walked to his desk, careful to appear relaxed as he

sat down. He needed to keep Tristan engaged until he could get help.

“What are they telling you to do?” he asked, feigning disinterest as he shot a discreet

glance towards the door, calculating his chances of making it to the door before Tristan

could stop him.

He had to admit that his chances weren’t very good.

Tristan stood up and walked over to the desk with a predatory gait. For a moment,

Tristan simply stood in front of the desk as he stared down at the doctor, further unnerving

him. “Doctor, it’s really bad. I'm afraid that……,” he trailed off hesitantly.

Dr. Bryne reached under his desk, slowly, and started to hit the panic button, repeatedly,

hoping the damn thing actually worked. “Yes, Tristan?” he asked, his voice cracking as his

body trembled.

“Dr. Bryne,” he said, becoming more serious with every passing second, “they’re telling

me that I have to take a leak and to tell you that I don’t need therapy.”

Sensations of shock and relief spread throughout his body as his heart pounded in his

chest, threatening to burst free as Tristan’s words slowly sank in. He took in a few deep

breaths, trying to calm down from the biggest scare of his life, but it was difficult knowing

exactly what the man in front of him was capable of doing.

“When I get back in a few minutes I’ll tell you what the clothes in my closet tell me to do

late at night,” Tristan said dryly as he headed for the door.

Mildred, his secretary of ten years, came running in with a cell phone clutched tightly in

her hand just as Tristan opened the door. When she spotted Tristan, she jumped back,

hugging the phone tightly against her chest as she made sure to stay out of his path, making

Tristan chuckle.

“Do you need anything, Doctor?” she asked hesitantly, shooting nervous glances at

Tristan as he walked past her.

“Nothing, Mildred,…..wait, maybe some cold drinks,” Dr. Bryne mumbled absently as

he wiped sweat off his face with a handkerchief, wondering if it was too early to retire.

-
-
-

When Tristan returned to the room a few minutes later, he noted that the doctor

appeared to be more composed and ready to continue with the department-ordered bullshit

that he would eventually find a way out of. He always did and this time would be no

different. He’d have the good doctor signing him off to return to active duty soon enough.

For now he was going to have to settle for screwing with the man’s head for his own

entertainment.

Well, it had been entertaining while it lasted, he thought dryly as he dropped his weight

back on the lumpy couch. If the man hadn’t been an old friend of his father’s, he would

have already screwed him over and ended this bullshit his way a week ago.

“Tristan, that wasn’t funny.”

“I’m afraid it was, Doc.” Tristan sighed, wondering why he hadn’t just left when he’d

had the chance.

“Fine, I see that you're still being stubborn, so I’ll pick the topic for our session,” Dr.

Bryne said, sounding put out.

“Pick away, Doc,” Tristan said as he lay back down on the couch. This time he didn’t