The Vigilante (29 page)

“Shush, it’s all right. Everything’s all right,” he murmured. He wanted her, and he’d have her tonight. No tears or recriminations would stand in his way, and no thoughts of guilt.

Martha, unable to resist his advances, did nothing to stop him and became more than willing. In shock at this turn of events, she let his passionate, burning kisses quietly turn her frozen soul into a mass of molten longing. A desperate fire burned within her and she had no will or desire to stop what was happening.

Nothing mattered now, not anymore. Lost in the heated madness he’d created in her, she forgot her despair. Her heart soared inside her chest until she nearly fainted.

He lifted her lightly into his arms as if she were a featherweight, and took her to his bed. “No Mr. Nice Guy tonight, my love. It’s been too long.”

He unfastened her clothes, pulled them off. At this, Martha came alive and, fired by her own passion, began to help him divest himself of his things.

He gasped in delight at finding a fiery and willing partner in his arms, closed her mouth with his, and went deep as he sought it all from her.

Helpless to stop his assault and filled with fire, she met him fully, kiss for kiss, touch for touch. She’d never known anyone like this man and if it only lasted this one night, so be it. She didn’t believe in his love. She knew better than that after his long, painful, silences, but she had no doubt of his passion.

Go for it, girl
!
Martha heard the words, felt the sentiment, and realized how well she’d become fused with that other part of herself. She returned Bob’s kisses with unbridled lust, leading him on a wild, hot-blooded adventure that lasted through the few hours left of their night together and into the softness of the morning light. He drove her to heights of passion she’d never imagined possible. His skill and desire tore all her worries asunder.

***

Sammy Gill entered Ryan’s office. Shamed faced, he related the details of his surveillance of Martha Lavery. “Well, she must be seeing a psychiatrist. I saw her enter the offices of Doctors Michael Carton and Herman Schoenfeld, both of ‘em psychiatrists.” His face reddened. “She knows she’s being tailed, too, because she stopped suddenly and when I passed her, she shook her fist at me to let me know she’d made me. That and her angry glare told me what she thought about it.

“But worse yet, she gave me the slip last night. I think I must have dozed off—long hours you know. All the lights were off, so I figured she’d retired.” Embarrassed at the admission, he apologized. “Jeez, Ryan, I’m sorry. It was way late and I was exhausted. But anyway, it was nearly noon today when she breezed into her driveway, got out, and entered her house with a key. So she’d unplugged her garage door last night, opened it by hand, and slipped away.”

“Cagey character, isn’t she?” Ryan grinned. “Don’t feel too bad, your relief called off, slip-up on our part.” He frowned “Wonder where she went? Why’d she need to sneak off like that? Why the evasive behavior? Maybe she resents being tailed. Hell’s bells, I know I would.” He took a deep breath and patted Sammy on the shoulder. “We’ll have to be less obvious in her case.” “Submit your overtime. We’ll get another guy for a while, maybe a woman. I’ve got one in mind that she won’t spot so easily.”

He dismissed Sammy and called Harris. “Good morning, Alan,” he said with a grin. “Our lady gave Sammy the slip last night. She’s no dummy. Cagey as hell and getting mighty damned suspicious.”

“Well, if she’s our perp, she’s done the world a couple of favors anyway. What’s next?”

“They’re picking Callahan up as we speak. Harrisburg sent us a laundry list of his activities. He drives an old dark blue sedan. We took the information off it from the street. It matches one the police in Harrisburg have been looking for. I’ve sent Charlie and Ben out to pick him up, confiscate the car, and do forensics on it and the house. I hate to think what rot they’ll find on Freddie’s computer—damn that bastard!”

“Whew! Things are moving along, eh?” Harris commented. “So where are we with the Lavery woman? She’ll be a real hero if you try to arrest her. Down in Australia, a woman shot the balls off the guy that raped her granddaughter, and she became a national hero. The police didn’t dare prosecute her.” He chuckled. “That could happen with this case, and you know it. People are damned fed up.”

“Don’t I know it?” Ryan shuffled a few papers. “As far as surveillance goes, we’ll have a female do the tailing from now on. Lavery’s wise to us now and we need another tail—how about Carla? She’s a slick one and she’ll be less obvious if I know anything about that dame.” He laughed. “I wouldn’t mind tailing this suspect myself. Who knows what we’d find, psychiatrist and all?”

“Psychiatrist? She’s really seeing one?” Harris asked. “A nut case, huh? Is that it?” He shook his head. “It don’t fit, Ryan.”

“Not at all. She’s a very together person. Maybe with a problem we know nothing about. We’ll see how it goes.” Ryan stuffed the papers in a file. “The doctor won’t tell us anything. He can’t. You know how it is, patient confidentiality and all that. Only makes our work harder.” He stretched his arms over his head. “Hell, man, had breakfast yet?”

“Nope. Where you want to go?”

The detective and the sergeant left together. Coffee and donuts always made their day go better.

***

Lizzie came knocking on Martha’s door. Exhausted from her heavy night with Bob, Martha slowly dragged it open to admit her. “Hi. Come on in.”

“Where have you been?” Lizzie demanded. “You weren’t home last night. I called several times.” You look tired as hell, but there’s something else, too. What is it? Spill! Come on, girl, tell.”

Martha sighed. “Oh, I don’t know where to begin, Lizzie. How do I even start with this?” But over a fresh cup of coffee she did, telling her friend everything, including her night with Bob, how she got rid of the incriminating evidence, and her evasive maneuvering to evade the surveillance officer.

“Speaking of Bob,” Lizzie exclaimed, ignoring the rest of the story, “and here you thought it was over! How did you leave him this morning?”

“He made us a great breakfast, though it was after ten or so before we woke up. Later, he took me to my car. When I drove home, you should have seen the guy that’d been tailing me.” Martha giggled. “Oh, Lizzie, the look on his face.” She sighed again. “Getting back to Bob, I wonder about that myself. As far as our relationship goes, I don’t know if we have one or not. You know, he’s never called me since I told him about my activities. I waited in agony for days! He may never call me again, either. I think some part of me went a bit wild last night, probably scared him off. It’s strange to speak of my other self that way, when she’s really me. But this integration business takes some time and it’s very, very strange—actually it’s damned weird.” She looked intently at Lizzie. “I am so glad I can tell this stuff to you. Who else would even believe it?”

“So, when do we visit the infamous,
Paradisio?”
Lizzie changed the subject without a comment on her story and Martha realized their outing to the infamous nightclub was the real reason for Lizzie’s visit.

“Oh, whenever.” Martha shrugged, too tired to care. She really wanted to sleep—and see Bob again as soon as possible. “I’m too wiped out for tonight. How about tomorrow night? I haven’t taken any shifts for a while. Now that Bob is speaking to me again, maybe I should.” Martha mumbled the words, musing aloud and forgetting Lizzie for the moment.

“Hey, get with it, you wildcat woman! You’re worn out from your activities last night, and I’m jealous as a scalded cat, you sexy vixen.” Lizzie hugged Martha. “Okay, tomorrow night, it is, and I’ll get in touch in the morning about what to wear. Get some sleep now, okay?”

Martha saw her out, enjoying all over again the warm glow of their close friendship. “How good it is to feel this way, it’s been so long!” She noticed her body aching with the subtle discomforts gained from her passionate night with Bob. And again, a million pleasurable sensations filled her mind. Exotic feelings, something she hadn’t experienced for many long, lonely, years.

She sought her bed and collapsed into deep slumber. Over her, a dark shadow, a troubled one of her own making, loomed and threatened. She couldn’t wake up to dispel the dread sensation of doom that seemed to hover like a dark storm cloud. Twisting and turning, she awakened enough to hear herself moaning, “Oh, please, please, don’t touch me. I can’t bear it!”

***

In spite of her wild dreams, Martha slept well for a good part of the day and on into the night. She woke up feeling at loose ends. Bob hadn’t called and that fact kept her nervous and pacing about her home. She finally decided her encounter with him was merely some wild fluke, something that just happened, because for both of them, their emotions had run so high they had no other outlet for their tensions. She almost laughed. “Well, I hope it wasn’t that tawdry.”

She threw on some clothes and went out for a drive. “I’ve got to get out of the house before I go stir crazy. I can’t call him. I don’t know what he thinks or how he really feels about things. We discussed nothing, just tore at each other like a pair of wildcats.”

She laughed at that but kept an eye out for a tail. The old maroon sedan was gone. She’d made sure of that. “It could very well be another vehicle I haven’t spotted yet. I’m becoming completely paranoid, and it all stems from seeing that fiend, Sykes. I hope he suffers all the tortures he deserves. I’m sure I wasn’t the only child to suffer at his hands.”
Justice comes in many forms
, she realized at last,
though it was terribly long delayed in Sykes case
. Looking about, she realized she’d arrived at Jeannie’s.

“Lord, I must be driving on auto-pilot. These mind-boggling thoughts do terrible things to a person. I’ll be lucky to live through this maddening chapter of my life.” She went in to see how things were with the Moulton’s.

Jeannie met her at the door and took her into the den before she opened her mouth. “Mom, we’ve decided to move to the north side of Denver. Martin spends more time there with his company than here, so it’ll be a good move for us.” Imparting her news to Martha, Jeannie subdued her excitement at leaving the city where a terrible evil had happened to their family. “Will you be okay with it?”

“Yes, of course I will, but don’t be surprised if I make a move, myself.” Martha made her statement, partially for nearness to her family, but also for the fact of her criminality looming in her future as well. She’d already read that patients with Dissociative Identity Disorder, frequently did move to new locations after integration with their alternate personalities. They stated various reasons. Most declaring they didn’t want it known to the people in their lives that they’d had mental aberrations, and frequently because of criminal, or near criminal acts they’d committed. It allowed them a new beginning.

Martha readily understood that, but she had qualms about being away from the closeness she enjoyed with Lizzie. That would be the real hardship. And Bob. She didn’t know how to think about him anymore.

“Why are you so quiet?” Jeannie asked. “What are you thinking? You haven’t told me much recently—you haven’t, Mom.” She laid on the guilt. “At least let me in on how your treatment is going. What’s happening?” Jeannie implored with concern in her deep-blue eyes. “I need to know!”

Martha decided to tell her only enough to satisfy her for the moment. “Jeannie, I’ve had a real break-through. I’m in the process of integration as we speak. I can’t tell all of it, but last week, I saw the man who worked for my father during the time my alternate personality was created, a sick, dying man, no longer a threat. But it wrung me out to see that old devil lying there. Yet, seeing that evil man, Sykes, helped me face the things he’d done to me, not all of them so far, but enough to send me off into a panic.”

“I can’t fully integrate until I face everything, the doctor said. I even have conversations with Serena sometimes, but it’s weird, sort of like talking to myself. I’m not sure it’s real, but it has happened. Bob helped me make it through that shift, Jeannie.” Martha managed a laugh as she tried to help her daughter understand that she hadn’t been totally devastated by the unrealistic things occurring in her life.

“Good, Mom, then you’re working it out. When we have a new place and get this one on the market, we’ll drive up and see it, okay?” Jeannie’s interest had quickly turned to her own sphere of concern and Martha applauded it.

After spending time with Will, Martha drove home. Looking about for a police tail, she failed to see anyone, though if a tail had her in his sights, Martha felt certain they’d use one whose skill far outpaced the first one. If so, Martha never saw anything obvious, and felt certain she’d gained expertise in checking for police surveillance the past few days.

Reaching the security of her home, she called Lizzie. “Hey girl, come over so we can figure out what to wear tonight for our foray to
The
Paradisio
.”

“On my way, lady.”

Martha hung up, measured out the coffee, and turned it on. Wonder why Bob hasn’t called,” she mused. “After the scorching night we spent in his bed, he can’t ignore me for long—unless Serena did him in.” She emitted an uncertain giggle, remembering particular events.

Lizzie bombed in with her usual upbeat attitude. “So what’s the right get-up for this fancy dive?” Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

Martha laughed. “If I recollect from my friend, it’s boots nearly up to here, and I’ve got a pair.” She held her hand to the bottom of her buttocks. “Way too much make-up, and a lot of stretchy, too tight, shiny, glittery, stuff on top—hooker clothes, basically.” She flung out her hands. “Go figure.”

“I don’t think I’d want to go that far.” Lizzie giggled with joy at this adventure, playing charades of sorts. “I have some spike heeled boots. How about a pair of tight jeans, and skinny top, maybe a glittery belt to set it all off?”