Mia's Journey: An Erotic Thriller (14 page)

Chapter 37

Prescott was sitting up in his hospital bed when Flynn walked in.

“Gee Prescott, I bet that neck brace makes it hard to tie a bow tie on your tux when dressing for your charity fund raisers, like ‘Children Without Hunger’.”

“Fuck you, Flynn. I’m not in the mood. What do I owe the displeasure?”

“Well, you know me, always nosy. That was quite the crime scene last night. I caught you on the news too. It was a real tearjerker.”

“Now all you need to do is catch those bastards, and you’ll be earning your tax dollars.”

“What makes you think it was plural?”

“Huh?”

“You said, ‘bastards,’ plural form of ‘bastard.’ Didn’t they teach you English grammar at that prep school you went to?”

“Well, there had to be at least two, maybe three.”

“What makes you think so? Did you see that many?”

“I didn’t see anything but black.”

Flynn stood looking at Prescott. He shifted his six foot four frame, and adjusted his utility belt. Prescott looked at his service automatic.

“Is that the Glock 17 I gave you when you passed the Sergeant’s exam?” Prescott asked.

“Yes, it is. That’s right, Prescott, we go back. I wouldn’t have made it through the law classes without you. I know that. I’m a beat cop. A flat foot. I don’t have your connections. I know I owe you. You don’t have to rub it in.”

“I was doing nothing of the kind. I was just…”

“What’s this?” Flynn threw one of the tire spikes on the bed next to him.

“I have absolutely no idea.”

“It’s a tire spike. They’re used to disable cars and make it impossible to give chase. I found four of them under the wheels of your car.”

“I don’t understand what that means.”

“Why don’t you tell me about the pool of blood I found inside the gym?”

“Once again, I don’t know what you mean.”

“That’s strange. I found your footprint in it. Well, you were attacked outside, right?”

“That’s right, as soon as we left the building.”

“Then why was blood found INSIDE the gym? Pooled on the floor as well as on the wall?”

“I don’t know, maybe…”

“Look, Prescott, you stupid shit. Follow the bouncing ball, Okay? Are you up to that in your delicate condition? One, you had your tires spiked. That was a contingency plan.

Two, I found footprints over by the tree line where someone had been waiting. That means someone was expecting you, or watching you.

Three, there was unknown blood found, away and removed, from the crime scene.

Four, gang bangers don’t use homemade tire spikes. Five, gang bangers don’t recon their targets. Are you following me?”

“Flynn, you lost me around number one.”

“You weren’t attacked by gang bangers. You were attacked by a professional, or professionals. Which leaves us with the question, just what the fuck are you into? Is this about your wife?”

Prescott was saved from answering that question when both his parents walked in. Elder Prescott looked Sergeant Flynn up and down like the cheese smelled bad.

“Sergeant Flynn. It’s very good to see you. I hope you’re here to tell us you’ve caught Jeffery’s attackers.”

“Mr. Prescott, good to see you too. We’re hot on their tail, with Jeffery’s help.” He added sarcastically, with enough venom so that only Junior Prescott would feel the sting.

“Jeffery! What have those hooligans done to you!” Momma Prescott came rushing to her son’s bedside.

Elder Prescott stepped aside, to let his wife in, so she could suffocate the occasion.

“Sergeant Flynn was just leaving Dad. He’s got enough information to go on now, I think.”

“Jeffery, I knew working late at night in those dangerous places, this was going to happen. I told you so, didn’t I?”

“It was an elementary school, Mom. It doesn’t get much less dangerous than that.”

“Well, you say that now…”

“Sergeant Flynn, could I have a word with you?” This coming from Elder Prescott, grabbing Flynn’s elbow and steering him out of earshot.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“He got attacked by a pro. He’s lucky. He should be dead is my guess.”

“I see. Have you made any inroads on finding his wife?”

“I didn’t know I was looking for his wife, Sir. Has she gone missing?”

“I think you might want to concentrate your investigation in that direction.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Flynn pulled out his cell phone and speed-dialed.

“Sally? Why don’t we blood type the blood we found at Waterloo Elementary with Mrs. Mia Prescott’s and see if we can get a match? Could you do that and get back to me? Thanks.”

“Was that actually necessary, Officer Flynn?”

“I think it was, yes. Just trying to do my job as a public servant,” Flynn said, looking Elder Prescott dead in the eye.

The private hospital room was starting to get pretty cramped when the doctor walked in, squeezing past the men.

“You’re a lucky man, Mr. Prescott,” the Doctor said.

“How so?”

“Am I free to talk around everyone present? HIPPA requirements and all, state that I have to ask.”

“Get on with it.” The Elder Prescott waved the formality away with his hand.

The doctor ignored him, and directed the question at Jeffery.

“Yes, of course, go ahead.”

“X-rays reveal mild concussion from when your head hit the pavement. I wouldn’t expect any problems from that unless you start vomiting. Your neck muscles have been sprained on the right side and there is a laceration under your jaw. Basically, you’ve got a scratch and whiplash. You’ll be wearing the neck brace for a while, but other than that, I’ll discharge you today.”

“I can go now?”

“I don’t see why not,” answered the Doctor.

His mother was already pulling his clothes out of the closet, and laying them out.

“Well, you’ll just have to come back to the manor…”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

True to his word, within minutes an orderly and a wheelchair showed up to take Prescott downstairs and back out into the cold, cruel world. Prescott got seated and the orderly put his feet up on the platforms, then moved behind to grab onto the handles in back of the chair.

“I’ll take it,” said Flynn, and started pushing Prescott, who was feeling like an invalid and an idiot, out into the hallway.

Flynn stopped halfway down the hall. “What about Gilheart?”

“Fuck ‘em,” said Prescott, “He’s no use to anyone anymore.”

“It is not death or pain that is to be dreaded,

but the fear of pain or death.”

Epictetus

Chapter 38

The Doctor continued walking down the hall, checking a door chart, here and there, making his rounds.

The Doctor came to Gilheart’s room in the orthopedic ward and pushed through the door. There were no “get-well” cards on the window sill, no flowers on the table.
This is a man who had no one who cared,
thought the Doctor.

“Mr. Gilheart, my name is Dr. Peters. I’ll be responsible for your recovery. Has anyone informed you of the extent of your injuries yet?”

Gilheart was lying flat on his back. His leg was encased in plaster from toes to groin and suspended in the air with ropes and pulleys.

There was a metal brace around his knee with four long screws going into the plaster helping to maintain immobility of the kneecap. His head was also wrapped with bandages with the left side completely covered down to his nose.

He had a stainless steel trapeze handle to pull himself up with. Only his right eye tracked Dr. Peters’ movement.

“I’ve been told some, nothing substantial,” Gilheart said.

“I don’t need to tell you your injuries are grave. The good news is, you only suffered minor brain damage when your skull was crushed. We were able to get all the shards of bone from your brain. You will probably suffer some memory loss.

“We were able to replace your kneecap with a synthetic. You’re looking at at least a year getting your leg working, then several years of rehabilitation to ever walk again. In fact, you may never walk again, at least with the use of that leg.

“The bad news is, your eye is another story. We couldn’t save it. I’m sorry Mr. Gilheart, you’re going to be blind in that eye for the rest of your life.”

Gilheart took this news without emotion. He had a morphine self-medicator, and the only sign of emotion was his thumb pushing the red button.

“So what happens, now?” Gilheart asked.

“You’re going to get used to hospital food, I’m afraid. You’re going to be in here for a while. We’ll continually monitor your brain function to make sure there is no swelling, as well as your kneecap as you recover to make sure it heals properly in place.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“Then a team of surgeons we have on call is going to go in and make sure it does.”

“I’m fucked, aren’t I Doc?”

“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to…”

“Don’t sugar-coat. I’m fucked, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” the doctor sighed.

The doctor left and Gilheart remained on his back staring up at the ceiling. A watermark from the floor above spiraled itself into the face of Christ, or at least so he thought from the morphine induced haze.

He was still trying to put the pieces together in his mind of the attack. He didn’t remember the attack at all and had been no help to the police investigators.

Prescott…the name seemed to have significance. Then out of the drug fog came the huge bow of the Good Ship Memory. Mia Prescott! He had been raping Mia Prescott right before the attack. He could see it in his mind. He could see the blood leaking down her leg from his phantom eye, or maybe it was his mind’s eye, or possibly they were the same now.

He smiled at the memory. Maybe Jeffery Prescott attacked him. He wouldn’t put it past the slimy little shit. Or at the very least arranged it. He remembered Prescott saying, what was it, yesterday morning? That he could have some “impressive problems of his own” if Gilheart didn’t play ball. This certainly qualified as an impressive problem.

The morphine fog was closing in. He knew he was going to be out soon, but he wanted to hang on to this thought, it seemed important.

Now he remembered. Mia Prescott was Jeffery Prescott’s wife. Jeffery Prescott pimped his wife to him.

And he had a recording of the conversation.

With that, the Good Ship Memory went bow down into the black waters of his mind, and sank beneath the waves of consciousness.

“You were born to win, but to be a winner, you must plan to win, prepare to win, and expect to win.”

Zig Ziglar

Chapter 39

Let’s start off with what we know,
thought Daddy, trying to put the pieces together and connect the various dots.

We know Prescott is probably psychotic. Could that be used as an advantage? We know that either the need to control Mia, or some other external factor is fueling his desire to find her. We know he has money, power, privilege, and connections as his advantages. We know that…

“Hi Daddy, what are you doing in here all by yourself?” Mia said, poking her head in through the door of his study.

“Just thinking.”

“You spend a lot of time thinking. Let’s have some fun. I was thinking today I could be Nurse Naughty and you could be Dr. McNasty.” Mia opened the door wider, and Daddy could see she was wearing a see-through nurse’s outfit. She was smiling wickedly, tapping a large vibrator in her palm.

Daddy smiled. “I think Dr. McNasty could come up with a few places to put that.”

“Oh no, this is Nurse Naughty’s toy. You go find your own.”

“I think Nurse Naughty has been dipping into the pharmaceutical supply cabinet once too often if she thinks she has a ‘medical procedure’ for Dr. McNasty with that toy.”

“Oh, come on, Daddy, it will be fun.”

“Oh, it will, will it? Since it will be so much fun, I think I’ll use it first on Nurse Naughty.”

“You are absolutely no fun, Daddy.” She harrumphed, then a pout, next she stuck out her tongue, a head toss, and then she disappeared.

Daddy went back to his thought process.

We know that Gilheart and Prescott were working together. Was that by accident, or plan?

OK, what are my advantages? They don’t know who I am…yet. They don’t know where Mia is. They are looking in the wrong direction, so far, looking for gang bangers.

But most of all, they aren’t trained in this world. Don’t fool yourself. They can hire trained operatives if push came to shove. Lastly, we can use the DNA advantage against them and flush them out.

OK, then. What’s the plan?

We now have the tactical advantage. So we push that advantage. First, create a plan for divorce and be the first to file and pollute the legal proceeding in Mia’s favor. Next, go after Gilheart and completely destroy him, in order to put pressure on Prescott to cave in on the divorce, and agree to our terms.

OK, you’ve got a plan. So now, what could go wrong…?

“Alright Daddy, how about this?” Mia was standing in the doorway in her “Baby Doll” outfit. Pig tails, white knee socks, and short, oh so very short, plaid school uniform skirt.

“Well, that is one of my favorites…Come here, you.”

Mia giggled and jumped into Daddy’s lap.

“You aren’t healed yet. It’s too soon for fun and games,” Daddy said softly.

“Those painkillers you have are pretty good. I don’t feel a thing.”

“No kidding? Yeah, I can tell,” Daddy said, dryly. “It’s just masking the pain. The damage is still there, and it hasn’t healed. No more sex games for you, at least involving your vagina or ass, for a couple of weeks.”

“Daddy! That’s way too long. What are you going to do? You’ll be sniffing after every pussy on the block. Oh, no. No way. I can still take care of you with my mouth then.”

“I won’t refuse, Baby Doll,” said Daddy smiling.

“Then come to bed, I’ll take care of you now.”

“Later, Baby Doll, as soon as I finish.”

“But Daddy, you’re not doing anything. You’re just sitting there.”

Daddy gave her a look that said ‘don’t mess with me,’ she sighed, then she jumped out of his lap, tossing her hair as she left, and vanished.

OK, where was I?

Oh yeah, what are the problems I can see that I can plan for? Gilheart is out of commission. He is a sitting duck. No problems there.

I would be surprised if Prescott was hurt that badly. Probably his pride was hurt more than anything else. Don’t underestimate the pride of a wounded psychotic.

What is his next move? What would I do?

I would pull out all the stops and try to find out who I am, in his position. He can’t make a move until he knows who he is dealing with.

Okay, let’s follow that line of thought.

HOW is he going to do that?

He’s probably got police on his payroll. His law office has investigators. Which means it is only a matter of time until they figure it out.

What happens when he figures it out?

He’ll come at me with everything he’s got. Not only to get Mia back, but to destroy me. Or, he’ll try to kill us both.

Are we safe here?

Only for the time being. Which means we need a safe house, or an alternate fall back location, not in my name or Mia’s.

Is it possible I’ve completely underestimated Prescott, and he has forces far greater than I’m expecting?

Anything is possible. Even so, he does have a powerful family who may not want their little boy to go down in flames.

Is that an advantage that can be used, or a disadvantage?

It depends on how dirty they are.

What are the unknowns involved?

One, who is working with Prescott?

Two, how close are they to finding out who I am?

Three, how quickly before they do, and the shit hits the fan?

OK, what is the plan of attack?

One, find a safe location.

Two, get the divorce proceedings in motion.

Three, go after Gilheart and destroy him.

Four, flush Prescott out and get him to back off Mia forever or if that doesn’t work, destroy him as well.

Five, hope like hell I’ve covered everything and not overlooked something obvious.