The Vigilante (20 page)

“Are you going out, Jeannie?”

“Why—because I’m put together for a change?” Jeannie patted her hair. “See, my hair is combed and everything.”

She laughed and Martha’s heart filled to bursting at this positive change.

“Well, it’s nice to see. I’d begun worrying about you, too.”

“It’s been tough. Martin is in a quandary, thinking of re-locating and going through all we have these past months.”

“Any good news is welcome, you know that. Don’t let your moving be influenced by me in any way. Of course as a nurse, I can work anywhere so I wouldn’t be far behind. I need to see my grandson. I could never live far away from him, or you and Martin, either.”

“What about this boyfriend, or should I say—man friend?”

“I don’t know yet, and I can’t worry about it now. Things are moving pretty fast with the doctors, too, so maybe all this mental stuff will be over with before I have to make a decision about moving or getting too heavily involved.”

Certain that Bob had fallen in love with her, Martha feared her mental problems would turn him away, despite his protestations of understanding. “He doesn’t need to be burdened with a mental case.” She laughed, refusing to relinquish that sense of lightness she felt.

“Mom, you sound almost giddy today, you all right?” Jeannie frowned, until she saw her son waiting eagerly, his red coat pulled on.

He couldn’t stand still. “I’m ready, now!”

Will took Martha’s hand and they left for his favorite eating place. Martha wondered what would happen today. Every visit had become a major event in Will’s progression toward either regression or normalcy.

After ordering, they took a seat in the play area. Will craned his neck looking for the bully. “That bad boy’s not here, Grammy.” He dug into his nuggets and fries. Even his appetite seemed improved.

After eating, he removed his shoes and ran into the play area. Martha watched intently. She saw him climb, slide, scream with joy, and help a small toddler girl who had fallen “You were a real gentleman helping that little girl,” she told Will. “That’s what a big boy does, when someone needs help.”

Driving back to Will’s home, with him sitting in his safety seat, she looked at him in the rear view mirror.

“She was soft and nice, Grammy. I wanted to look at her down below, but I knew you wouldn’t want me to.”

With sinking heart, Martha saw a sly look in his eyes she’d never seen before. “That’s right, Will.
Her
mother wouldn’t have liked it either.”

She tried to hide her shock at his words. But with this new concern, she worried he might have become overly interested in sexual things.
Is this another aberration we have to work out
?

“Girls are different down there, aren’t they Grammy?” “Of course they are, Will. One day, you will learn all about how different boys and girls are. Your father will be the one to help you with that, when you are ready to know these things.” But she knew he’d also learned the ugly side of sex from the violence committed upon him, more than any little boy needed to know at age five. And the evil way he’d learned it made her shudder.

She imparted this new bit of news to Jeannie. “I don’t know what this means, but his doctor needs to know this new wrinkle on his road to recovery.”

“At least he isn’t sitting in front of the TV or kicking his toys all over the place.” Jeannie hesitated. “Mom, I have decided to go visit the Mercer family and I’m taking Will with me. After what we’ve suffered, they might appreciate a visit from someone who’s been there.” Her look of determination told Martha not to object. And Jeannie was right. It could be helpful for both families.

Still, she had to ask, “Are you sure it’s good for Will? Won’t it bring back bad memories or visions for him to face all over again?”

“I’ll call the doctor first and see if it’s okay, but think of what they must be suffering now. I believe a visit from someone in a similar situation will help. I know a visit from someone who’d been through the same thing would have helped us, but no one came.”

“Let me know how it turns out. Poor little girl, her life is changed forever, too.” Martha felt that raging, deep anger again. Wondering where her towering rages came from, she put it toward her feelings about Will’s assault. She couldn’t remember ever feeling anything like this in past years. Why now? Where did it come from?
That is not like me at all, or, the person I used to be
.
Could my
new self be a part of this
?

CHAPTER 22

Ryan read the reports coming up on the computer. “This Denny Garver has a history spanning nearly twenty years, from what these reports say.” He picked up his phone. “Hey, Harris, could you come in here for a minute?”

Harris entered quickly, his questioning eyes on Ryan. “Yeah, what’ve you got?”

“Look at this damned stuff. Why wasn’t this monster put away years ago? Apparently, he’s a nice, unassuming little fellow, who quietly goes about abducting and torturing little girls. His MO in these files suggests he ties them with pretty hair ribbons before he sexually molests them, shaves their heads, stuffs objects into just about any orifice—oh God! Damn it, anyhow!

“Most have been found dead. Only a very few have escaped to tell the tale. The descriptions they give fit Denny Garver to a tee, and we’ve got DNA this time. We got that off the little Mercer girl. I hate to do it, but we need her to ID him in a line-up as well. I guess we know how those ribbons tie in.” He looked at Harris in disgust, a tear lurking in the corner of his eye, and shook his head. “Son of a bitch!”

“The reports fit with the ribbons we found,” Harris confirmed. “Man, it’ll be hell to put that little child through the line-up process, but what else is there? Her parents are very cooperative, that’s lucky.” He heaved a sigh of regret. “We’ll have to have them bring both little girls in to take a look.” Harris grimaced. His job held many such unsavory moments. “Shit!”

“How’d Denny Garver take his arrest?” Ryan asked.

“Wanted to fight, but most of his fight’s been cut out of him if you get my drift.” Harris laughed. “He’s real popular down in his cell. Gets catcalls and suggestive remarks all day long. Worries he’ll be deprived of his civil rights. Got himself a shyster lawyer already, plans on fighting the case and suing the city for allowing predators in jail to prey on the likes of him.”

Ryan laughed. “I’m impressed!” He spread out the damning evidence displayed on the copy sheets from the computer. “Wonder how Garver will fight this stuff we’ve found in his home.”

Harris looked over the sheets with Ryan. “He’ll deny everything, of course, but some of those other cases will have DNA as well. When we put this together, he’ll get the death penalty. He won’t have such a nice time in the lock-up while he awaits trial. Most prisoners hate guys like him. On Death Row, he’ll want his own private cell, won’t he?” Harris couldn’t find a modicum of sympathy for the fiendish pedophile.

“We need more information on this Callahan dude. No doubt he’s got damned near as big a backlog of cases, too. Anything come in on him yet?”

“Not specifically, but reports from Harrisburg say they’re on the lookout for a dark blue sedan, ID’d by a six year old boy who barely escaped being lured into a car of that description. Do we know what Callahan drives?”

Harris got excited. “Good question. We’ll have a look. Don’t need a warrant to look from the street. We’ll get one if we need to. Maybe we’ll get both these bastards off the street, though in reality, both are rendered useless anyway. Oh how it pains my aching heart!”

Ryan chuckled. Justice, though illegally committed, was still justice in his eyes. “I’ll send a man out, take a look at Callahan’s car, and if it looks remotely suspicious, get full forensics on it. If it’s a wanted vehicle, get full forensics on the house, and his computer, too.”

“It won’t be pretty, getting into Freddie boy’s computer.” Harris shuddered, “God, I hope his car is wanted. Maybe they’ve paid for their crimes via our vigilante. Won’t those two have a hellish good time being incarcerated?”

“Scares the hell out of me just thinking on it. Let’s get some lunch,” Ryan suggested.

“Hell yes,” Harris replied, and the two men left the station.

***

Jake, already late for work, looked at the clock and decided he could squeeze in a shower before getting ready for another shift. His thoughts centered on Martha. Those purple spots he’d seen on her arm at least twice stayed on his mind. “She came to work with the stuff on her arms. Claims she didn’t know where it came from. Wouldn’t she have tried harder to cover them up if they were related to a crime?” he said, talking it through with himself while deciding what he ought to do about it. “If I tell the cops and they arrest her, she could lose her license. They might even try to tie her in with the crime on those two kid predators. She’s not the sort for anything like that.” He frowned. “No, couldn’t be, probably just a coincidence—got to be.”

Shrugging his indecision away, he decided to sit on his information for the present. But his curiosity was aroused. He hoped to work with Martha again, wanting to scope her out. “An overly intense old broad, good nurse, though,” he said as he grabbed a towel.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it as he drove to work. “Her face has a familiar look. I swear I’ve seen her somewhere, but not the way she looks at the hospital, all business and overly sentimental like she is. Must have been somewhere else, but where? Maybe the mystery woman will work tonight,” he said and chuckled, pleased with the quality of his own wit.

***

Martha took a shift against her better judgment. “I hope I’m up to working this afternoon. It’s one place I can forget my crazy problems. I’ll be too busy to worry about things. It’s never dull on med-surg.” Her major worry lay in giving her patients her full attention. How could she when somewhere in her mind, another being lived and had a life unknown to her? That mysterious being obviously did things Martha knew nothing of. “If this shift goes well, and I don’t kill anyone, maybe I should work more to get my mind off things.”

Assigned to med-surg again, she felt a wave of relief. Bob was off and she’d not be going to the psych ward again. Somehow, that night had caused her even more pain and anger. She had enough of her own problems to handle without the mental debacles of other people. She entered the report room. Jake was on duty and she shrugged.
He’s a lazy ass, an unfeeling lout, for a health-care worker but pleasant enough, otherwise.

Gracie Monaghan began the taped report and Martha listened attentively. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Jake eyeing her and wondered about it. He’d ignored her on other occasions when they’d worked together.
Maybe he thinks I overreacted that night over Jean M.

Jake, trying not to be too overt in his observation of Martha, noted the frown and squinted look that came over her face when she noticed him checking her every move. He took up his duties and left the area, feeling slightly confused about the woman. Her arms were clear this evening and she didn’t look like a predatory person. He was unclear what one looked like, but not her. “Must be a coincidence, no other explanation could be possible,” he mused half aloud.

Focusing on one of the new grads fresh out of nursing school, he put Martha from his mind. Unsure of themselves, the newer nurses hadn’t passed their boards as yet, and he found them willing to learn from him as well as the others. They weren’t above giggling at his slim, blond good looks, either, especially the little blonde chick. She’d just made her BSN in Nursing and he saw her as a possible.
She’ll pull down a bundle when she gets going
.

Martha had had a quiet shift and enjoyed it. After her report, she glanced idly over the list of patients. Ice crawled insidiously into her midsection at a name she’d missed earlier, Peter William Sykes, 74-year-old male. Room 372, bed A. Whispering in horror, she gasped, “Could it be possible he’s the same man who worked on our farm so long ago?”

Unwilling, yet compelled, Martha walked in the direction of his room. She had to know who lay in bed A. With leaden feet, she moved down the corridor toward the back areas of the Med-Surg Ward while the off-going personnel moved toward the bank of elevators and their cars.

“Hey Martha, you’re heading the wrong way,” someone called, but moving as if in a trance, she continued on. Nervous tension mounted until she felt tight as a stretched rubber band. With each step, her scalp burned and the coldness within her veins froze her until she could scarcely catch her breath.

She reached the room. Her skin burned like a bonfire as she opened the door and slipped in. In the bed lay a scrawny, withered, corpse of a man, far advanced into his cancerous disease. His admitting diagnosis: Prostatic Carcinoma with metastasis to lungs, brain, and spine.

She stood over his bed. He
was
the same man. She felt certain of it, though no vestige of his youth remained for her to recall. Yet, to her mind, an aura of evil hung over him like an invisible cloud.

Seeing the man now, she felt nothing of the fear she’d had as a child and felt no sympathy for that wasted form on the narrow hospital bed. Sickened at seeing him, she felt that burning fury rise within her and willfully wished the man untold amounts of pain and suffering.

Why do I feel like this
?
Why do I have such hatred of this poor wasted man
?
What the hell’s going on, here
?

This sudden appearance of a ghost from her past, made her guts twist into a painful knot. She’d tell Doctor Carton of this occurrence. In some vague way, she knew this man held the key to her recovery.

Standing at his bedside, knowing who he was, she felt no mercy for the pitiable thing he’d become. Did he feel the intensity of her burning hatred? Occasional moaning escaped his withered lips, but he never opened his eyes.