An Angel of A Different Order: Dr Peter VonNetzer, the bloodletter (Danger Angel Book 1)

by S. R. Rashad

  “Can you? You tell me.”

  “You know what, I’ll just call you.”

  “If you want.”

  Laura is starting to see why for such an attractive woman, she doesn't go on many dates. But she can't help herself. She’s a hard woman, at least initially. Too bad all her interactions start with an initial awkwardness. Otherwise, she’d be great.

  After her visit to the Vet, Laura is excited about a potential date with a normal, cute guy. She believes he’ll call but you never know. And if he doesn't, she’ll have to find a new Vet, cause she definitely won't be going back there, no need for that kind of embarrassment.

  Laura enters the lobby of her building and is stopped by Juan, her doorman.

  “Oh, can I see. So, she did get you that puppy.”

  “Yes, she did--did you have anything to do with this Juan, cause you’re gonna have to walk him too.”

  “Sure, I can help but I had nothing to do with it. It was all her.”

  “Oh, by the way, do you two have something going on?” Laura says with a smile.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Come on, Juan. You two seem kinda… You know…”

  “Oh, she’s nice and I probably would, but she’s into the girls, right?”

  “Jen?”

  “Yea, Jen.”

  “No. No.” Laura says not willing to believe.

  “Yea, I'm pretty sure she is.”

  Lesbian? No. Maybe.

  Laura is left speechless as she heads to the elevator.

  Chapter 20

  The magic hate ball

  There’s a screeching sound. Then a loud snap, and suddenly, Frank and his nursemaid go careening off the road, at 60mph. Their truck spins, turning 180 degrees and rams into a tree, sliding up onto thick brush, coming to a complete stop. The two are jolted. Claire’s head slammed into the windshield and Peter hits his head on the driver’s side door. Claire’s a little dizzy and shaken up, but no serious injury.

  She turns to Peter…

  “Frank, Frank!” she yells, but he’s out cold.

  She checks his pulse and breathing. He’s alive just not responsive. At first, she is frightened. Then she calms herself, long enough to find her phone and call for help. The nearest help is 20mins away. She knows not to move him around too much, for fear of causing more serious injury, but still, she decides to pull him out of the truck. As she drags him out from the truck, he begins to come to.

  “Oh, yay, Frank…you scared me. Glad to see you awake. You were out for a bit.”

  “Was I? That was a wild ride.”

  “Yea, I know.” She says with a nervous laughter, and slow passing anxiety.

  They both turn and look at the truck and see the front driver’s side wheel is gone, snapped clear off and rolled further up the road.

  “What the hell, I guess that truck wasn’t as off road as I thought.” Peter says in hopes of easing Claire’s anxiety.

  “Yea, it seems that way, Frank. It seems that way. And you are sure you’re alright?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  Claire could really use a smoke about now, but Frank’s cancer.

  “When you were passed out, I called for help. Someone should be here any minute.”

  Peter feels nervous about all this; anxious, helpless and exposed, having no means to travel and only God knows who’ll be showing up.

  Claire’s need to smoke is too overwhelming. She needs a quick drag, something to calm her.

  “Frank, I'm just going to go across the road over there, for a minute, I need to…”

  Peter interrupts. “You need a smoke, do you?”

  “What, no, I need…um…”

  He stops her again mid-sentence. “It’s okay. I know you smoke. It's fine, Claire. Have a smoke, please.”

  She is embarrassed but she decides to come clean. “Well, yeah, I smoke. I just thought…um…well, I didn't want to offend you or seem insensitive.”

  Claire thought she was hiding her habit but Peter knew she smoked. Her kind, from the trailer parks, always smokes. Besides, he smelt the smoke on her clothes earlier. Additionally, he knows that anxious look of nicotine withdrawal, the frantic look of craving. After all, Peter, if anyone, knows about cravings. An addict can almost always identity another addict. Peter knows he is an addict of sorts.

  Claire crosses the road, lights up and that first drag does its job. She paces on the side of the road, smoking, inhaling deeply and purposefully, attempting to calm her nerves. The cigarette is helping. As she takes her last drag, a truck with two local volunteer firefighters drives up. The guys get out and approach Claire.

  “Hello, there.”

  “Oh, hey. You guys got here quick.”

  “Well, we were heading down this road, on our way home when we got the call.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here. Our truck lost its wheel. Can you believe that? The entire wheel just popped off.”

  The bigger of the two looks over at the truck…

  “Shit! The wheel’s gone alright. Damn, I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

  The younger, smaller, volunteer firefighter speaks up…

  “Um, you’re lucky, eh. Could’ve been worse.” He says, looking at the truck “for you, not the truck, The truck is fucked.”

  “And, how are you?”

  “I think we’re fine?” Claire says, “right?” looking over at Peter.

  “Yea, I’m find,” Peter says “but I don’t know how we’re gonna get that fixed or if it is even worth it.”

  “Maybe, you guys could try Henry’s auto body shop. It's in town. We’re headed that way. We can drop you there.”

  “You're certain you're fine?” The younger firefighter says as he looks the two over.

  Peter and Claire get into the truck with the two volunteer firefighters, leaving behind the wreck that was Peter’s new off roader, with the gunman’s phone still wedged between the seats. The drive to town is less than an hour. Peter is dreading small talk with their new friends. He whispers to Claire that's he’s gonna shut his eyes a bit. He needs to rest. He really wants to avoid engaging.

  “Where are you two traveling to?”

  “Oh, to his sister's house.”

  “Oh, where's that?” Says the younger.

  “I'm not really sure.”

  “Really, how do you not know where you're going?”

  “Well, I don't know but he does.”

  “Hey, is he sleeping? You may want to wake him. He just hit his head. If he suffered a concussion, you may want to keep him awake.”

  “No, he’s fine. I'm his nurse. He's okay.” She says unconvincingly.

  “Nurse, eh?”

  “Yea.”

  Claire feels she has to lie a little or else they won't trust her judgement. And she likes the respect a nurse gets. So, why shouldn't she get some respect. She is Frank’s nursemaid, after all.

  The younger has doubts about Claire. Still, he doesn't voice them. But he does look intently at Peter, looking for any signs of head trauma or ill health, flushed skin, limp body movements, and so on. He does notice the wig. He thinks it strange. Then, it hits him. He thinks he knows this guy. He's sure his face is familiar, but he can't place it just yet.

  They reach the town.

  “Henry’s place is just up the road… And you are certain you're fine?”

  “Yes, absolutely.” Says Claire.

  “Okay, we’ll drop you off there then. There is a motel on the other side of town if you need a place to stay.”

  “Thanks.” Says Claire.

  They stop at Henry’s and Peter wakes from his pretend sleep, his sleep of avoidance.

  “Do I know you?” The younger firefighter ask Peter as he exits the truck.

  “I don't think so. I am not from around here.”

  “And, you're certain we haven't met.”

  “Yea, certain.”

  This doesn't sit well with the volunteer firefighter. He knows he knows
him but it's really neither here nor there. They seem fine and that's all that really matters.

  “Ok you two. Sorry about the truck but we're glad you're ok.”

  “So are we, thanks.” Says Claire.

  The firefighters drive off.

  “Frank, what's that about?”

  “What?”

  “The part where that guy thinks he knows you?”

  “I have no idea.” He says shrugging it off “Let's see if anything could be done about that damn truck. Shall we.”

  “Yea sure. But I think we’d be better off junking it and seeing if someone’s selling a car around here.”

  Just then, Henry walks up, overhearing the last part of their conversation.

  “Someone needs a car? Well how about a minivan?”

  “Well, if we could get our truck fixed, that may be better.” Peter says.

  “Is that so.” Says Henry “Well, where is it?”

  “It's about a 40 minute drive north.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yea.”

  “Well, If you want me to go take a look, I’ll need a two hundred dollar deposit.”

  “Ok… can you take us to the motel. We need a place to rest, while you look at the truck.”

  “Yea, sure. I’ll, get my minivan, which could be your minivan. She runs great and is in lovely condition. Perhaps, she’ll be a better choice for you?”

  “Maybe.” Says Peter.

  “Okay, think about it.”

  Henry leaves, going around back and pulls up in the minivan he intends to sell to Claire and Peter.

  “Here, she is. Hop in. What do you think?”

  “Yea, she seems ok,” says Claire as she looks to Frank for approval.

  “The motel, right?” Says Henry.

  “Yup.”

  “Ok…and where is your truck exactly?”

  “40 minutes north. Just up the main road. Just look for the big mess.” Claire says.

  The motel clerk sees them as they step out of Henry’s minivan. They enter the motel. Peter goes to the waiting area and takes a seat on the couch. Claire goes over to the front desk to talk with the clerk.

  "Hello, Friends of Henry?” Says the clerk.

  “No, just two people whose car was in a wreck.” Claire says.

  “Oh, sorry to hear that is everybody ok?”

  “Yup. But we need a place to stay while Henry takes a look at our truck.”

  “Ok, we have a few vacancies. What are you looking for?”

  Claire walks over to Peter.

  “Do you want to check us in, Frank?”

  “No, Claire. You can do that.”

  “Anything particular we need?”

  “One room, double bed. I need you close.”

  “Ok.”

  Peter can't check them in. Someone in town may already have recognized him. He can't risk farther exposure. He is really hoping to be back on the road, soon. He needs to keep a low profile and he needs to keep Claire close. He's glad she's here to take care of things.

  Claire walks back over to the front desk.

  “So, you know what you need?”

  “Yes, single room, double bed.”

  “Ok, Driver's license and credit card.”

  Claire doesn't want to go back and trouble Frank. She's sure he’ll cover the cost. She decides to just give the clerk her card and good thing, there's no way Peter would have exposed himself that way. He won’t be using credit cards anytime soon.

  “Follow me. Let me show you to your room.”

  Peter trails far behind Claire as the clerk takes them to their room. Trying to maintain an unassuming posture, he walks along slowly, hunched over, with his cap down and supporting his fake limp with his cane. The clerk leads them outside and up the back staircase to the last room on the floor. He opens the door, then hands Claire the keys. He steps back, turns around, and with Peter coming up just behind him, he bangs into Peter’s cane, knocking it to the ground. They both reach down to pick up the cane. The clerk’s and Peter’s eyes meet. There’s a chill that runs through the clerk’s body. Because underneath the wig and Peter's failed attempt at a disguise, he knows that face. Peter senses that something’s wrong. The clerk feels Peter’s eyes searching his face for something, a tell, a sign, a hint that he’s been exposed. The clerk tries not to show any emotion or change in his expression. He won’t give himself away.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.” The clerk says.

  “No problem. I got that.” Peter says in an icy chill, as they both hold the cane.

  “Oh,” the clerk says as he sees he’s still holding the cane. He lets go. “Sorry again.”

  The clerk knows where he saw that face. He’s sure of it. He runs down stairs to the paper recycling bin. Rummaging franticly through the old newspapers, he comes across last week’s paper and there he is, on the front page, in black and white, Dr. Peter VonNetzer. ‘Serial killer goes free,’ reads the headline.

  He has to call somebody, but who? And what should he say... It’s not like Peter’s committing a crime. Should he go get a gun, but he doesn’t believe in them.

  “Not a bad room, Frank, huh?”

  “Yea, it’s okay.” Peter says blankly as he’s still wondering about the clerk and the strange feeling he got from him.

  “Oh look, someone left a magic eight ball. I love these things. You know them, Frank?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Well, you are supposed to ask it a question. Then you shake it and it gives you your fortune or something like that. Here, I’ll ask it a question and shake it, watch.”

  Claire shakes it…”Am I meant to be a nurse?” An answer is revealed ‘Yes definitely’

  “I knew it! You see that, Frank. You wanna try?”

  “Maybe later, Claire.”

  “Ok, I’ll ask it a question for you… Will the truck get fixed?” Claire says then shakes the ball, ‘Outlook not good’ You see.” Claire shows him the answer… “No truck, Frank. I think we're gonna be the proud owners of a minivan.” She says and laughs.

  “Oh, I should go tell the clerk to let us know when Henry gets back. I’ll be back, Frank. You need anything?”

  “No, I’m fine. Oh wait, see if he has Henry’s number just in case.”

  “Will do. And don't you go messing with my magic eight ball. I know you wanna.”

  While Peter decides to lay down for a bit and think, Claire goes down to see a worried looking clerk.

  “Excuse me” Claire says to the clerk.

  “Yes.” He says nervously, not looking in her face and pretending to do some paperwork.

  “Can I ask you a favor?”

  He’s super nervous now. And where is Peter he wonders. He’s read tons of books and has seen a lot of films where killers go on killing sprees in motels.

  “Sure he says,” continuing not to look her in the eyes.

  “Can you give me Henry’s number.”

  “Yes, let me get a pen.”

  He's so nervous, he drops the paperwork on the floor, then knocks over the pens as he bends over to pick up the scattered papers. Claire comes around behind him to help. He shouts at her.

  “Please, don't!”

  “Ok,” Claire says, thinking this kid is too overworked. “Hey, take it easy. I'm just trying to help.”

  “where’s your boyfriend Peter” the clerk says, looking up at her, then around the room searching for Peter.

  “What?”

  “If you two have come to kill me, that's not gonna happen. I'm a fast runner and the police are just up the road.”

  “Boyfriend? Kill you? Are you on drugs, kid? I just need, Henry’s number.”

  “And you're not gonna kill me?”

  “Kill you? No, kid.” She says extremely baffled by his lunacy, wondering about the drugs he must be on.

  “What about Peter? Where's he? And what does he want?”

  “Peter who?”

  “You just checked in with him.”
/>
  “Um, no. I just checked in with Frank.”

  “No, I'm sure that was Peter VonNetzer.” He says as he goes and gets last week's paper, showing it to Claire.

  “You are telling me that's not who you just checked in with?”

  Claire sees the resemblance but this can't be her Frank. No, that's not him.

  “I have to admit there is a resemblance but my guy's name is Frank and I'm his nursemaid.”

  “Lady, I don't care who you say he is. That's this guy here in the paper, for sure. I don't believe in guns, but my boss keeps one in the office and I'm gonna get it, right now. If you're planning on anything, don't. And you should probably think about checking out. Cause once I tell people you guys are here, things are gonna get ugly.”

  “Ok, kid. I still have to say you are wrong.”

  “Whatever, I'm getting the gun now. So don't try anything.”

  Claire doesn't know what just happened. That kid sure does think Frank is this guy in the papers. But he can't be. Can he? Claire is starting to remember some weird things Frank did and times when she was afraid of him, but she doesn't know what to think really, cause if he is this Peter, what about her new career. She can't turn back now, to that old life. She needs to think. She needs a smoke. She’ll go back in the room, pretend nothing’s happened. Grab her smokes and think about her next move.

  She returns to see Frank lying on the bed. He’s sleeping, good. She walks quietly past his bed, no need to wake him. She grabs her purse from off her bed…