Fractured Eden

by Steven Gossington

“No, but that is interesting.”

  She hurried to catch up with Tucker near the registration desk.

  Tucker darted over to Juliana, who sat behind the counter.

  “Do you want to have sex?” Tucker said, a broad grin on his face.

  Juliana’s eyes widened, and she pushed her chair back. “Que diablos?”

  “Tucker, that is not appropriate,” his mother said as she grabbed his arm. “Come with me now.”

  After they left, Aaron collapsed into his desk chair. Stella walked into his office.

  “Oh, my goodness,” she said. “He needs help.”

  Aaron wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. “I imagine he’ll crash at some point. Probably sometime after I do. My brain hurts.”

  Stella chuckled. “I’ve heard he can be like this for days at a time.”

  “I hope his psychiatrist can calm him down,” Aaron said.

  After work, Aaron drove to his happy hour bar for dinner and drinks. Red straightened the chair next to him and waved Aaron over.

  “I’ve become a real happy hour fan of this place,” Aaron said.

  Red smiled. “Just like me.”

  “I think of it as my ‘sane’ place.”

  “It’s my sanctuary, for sure.”

  Aaron glanced up at a TV near him on the wall behind the bar. Someone had just homered and was rounding the bases in a Major League baseball game.

  He turned to Red. “Are there any other decent bars like this?”

  “Sure, but I like this one best.”

  Aaron ordered broccoli cheese soup and wine.

  “You never order much food,” Red said.

  “I snack at the office and eat larger dinners most days when I’m off work.”

  “Sensible.” Red sipped his brandy. “I had to patch up my fence. My dog got out for a while, and I like to keep him in the yard. My previous dog loved to roam around in the Big Thicket.”

  “I’ll bet he had a field day in there catching critters.”

  “Yep. He brought a few of them back. Sometimes I couldn’t even figure out what kind of animal it was. Strange things live in that place.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  Aaron sampled his wine. My taste buds must be learning. I can taste hints of blackberry and licorice, I think.

  He leaned toward Red. “I’ve been reading up a bit about World War Two. I didn’t realize it sure could’ve gone the other way.”

  “You’re right about that. Why, I was on a ship at the surrender of the Japanese. We expected they’d pull something funny and start another battle right there. But they surrendered all right.”

  “I guess you guys were happy with that.”

  “We celebrated, big time.” Red studied his brandy. “There aren’t many happy people in war these days. No one surrenders anymore. Everyone loses.”

  At least some of my battles are over, Aaron thought. A vision of Race Taggett’s glinting eyes appeared to him.

  Chapter 32

  Constable Keller Greevy winced with certain movements of his head. He sat in his office chair, sipping from a mug of steaming hot coffee, a large white bandage on the right side of his neck and a head wrap securing another bandage over his left ear.

  He glanced at caller ID as the phone rang. It was the ME’s office.

  “Those pills from the Taggett’s house look so far to be just vitamins and nutritional supplements, nothing unusual.”

  “That was quick work. Anything else?”

  “We have some preliminary autopsy results for you.”

  Keller sat up and put his mug down on the desk. “Go ahead.”

  “It seems the two women died from strangulation. There were bruises on their necks consistent with choking.”

  “Were they sexually assaulted?”

  “There is no evidence of that.”

  “Well, at least he’s not a rapist.”

  “There was something strange. Both corpses had the letter ‘W’ cut into their upper chests, apparently with a knife.”

  “So Race did torture them.”

  “I don’t think so. The condition of the blood in the wounds and the appearance of the wound edges indicate that the knife was used after they were dead.”

  Chapter 33

  Buck Bogarty jumped as the doorbell rang. He and his mother, Sandra, were lounging in their living room, watching evening TV.

  Sandra went to the door and peered through the peephole. “It’s a policeman.” Buck walked up beside her as she opened the door.

  “I’m Officer Perkins. Is Lee Bogarty here?”

  “No, he doesn’t live here anymore,” Sandra said. “Why do you ask?”

  “We need to speak with him.”

  “What about?”

  “The death of a woman.”

  Sandra put her hand over her mouth.

  “He’s on the run, and he might show up here,” the officer said. “We think he’s armed.”

  “If he comes, you’ll be the first to know,” Sandra said. She closed and locked the door.

  Buck collapsed back onto the living room couch. Sandra sat beside him and put her hand on his shoulder.

  Buck rubbed his eyes. “What really happened to him?”

  “Your father was a good man once, until he lost his job. He always blamed some of the people he worked with. He never got over that, and he wasn’t able to get decent work again.”

  Buck shook his head. “You’ve told me all that before, but I know there’s something else.” He looked at Sandra. “He was like his father, wasn’t he?”

  Sandra dropped her head and covered her eyes to hold back the tears. “I’m … so sorry,” she said between sobs.

  “Why did they beat up women?”

  She shook her head and blotted her eyes with tissue. “I don’t know.”

  Chapter 34

  Aaron’s patient list was growing, and his Friday clinic schedule was packed. Folks with diabetes, hypertension, heart disease, arthritis, obesity and other ailments were added weekly. A litany of the common afflictions of the American way of life showed up at Aaron’s door … including mental illness.

  Near noon, as Aaron was about to open the door to a patient room, he stopped and smiled as he heard the strumming of a guitar. Ah, Cam, my schizophrenic guitarist.

  “How can I help you today, Mr. Fillmore?”

  Cam’s hair swayed as he strummed a few chords on his guitar, then he looked up. “I can’t find my medicine. I must’ve pitched it out by accident.”

  “So you’ve not taken your medicine recently?”

  “Not for a while.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here for a refill.”

  Aaron checked Cam’s heart, lungs, and pupils and performed a mental status exam. “That’s good. You seem to be thinking clearly.”

  He handed Cam a prescription. “Take care of yourself. Remember to take this as directed.”

  “Thanks, Doc. You’ve been good to me, so I’m watching out for you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll let you know of any enemies closing in.”

  “Your beam blockers signal you, right?”

  “That’s right. They help me spot any suspicious folks driving around.”

  As Cam strolled through the clinic, he stopped to play his guitar a few minutes for the surprised patients in the waiting room.

  Aaron lifted his head. “That sounds a little like ‘Friends in Low Places,’ by Garth Brooks.”

  Early in the afternoon, Aaron closed his clinic, and he and Stella drove to a small Baptist church nearby to attend the funeral of Rocky Donnigan. Brad Benningham had organized the funeral.

  Stella turned to Aaron in the car. “I made some phone calls. At the hospital, they found thallium in Sid Taggett, and Wanda was charged with his attempted murder.”

  “I guess we could say she’s guilty by reason of insanity?” Aaron said.

  “That’s what they thought at the hospital. She was diagnosed with severe chronic
schizophrenia and transferred to a long-term state psych facility.”

  Aaron nodded. “Good. I guess the DA made a quick deal. Anyway, that’s where she needs to be.”

  Aaron approached the church. Wow, no empty parking spaces.

  He pulled his car onto the grass next to the paved parking lot. They walked into the church just in time for the start of the service. Several people scooted and squished together in a rear pew to make room for Aaron and Stella.

  A minister talked about Rocky’s attributes: his marvelous mechanical skills and the quality of his friendship to those who were close to him.

  After the minister’s prayer, Rocky’s coworker at the garage stepped up to the podium. “As most of you know, Rocky was real good with cars.”

  “Amen,” several people said from the audience.

  He said he felt lucky to have worked with Rocky, and he gave a few examples of Rocky’s expertise. “I could go on for hours. Everyone in town knew they could trust their cars to Rocky. He was also one of the nicest people I’ve ever known. He had a kind heart.”

  Next, Preston Benningham walked up to the podium. He read from a piece of paper, mumbling his first few words. He looked up and saw that some people had leaned forward and cupped their ears to hear him. With a strengthened voice, he started over again.

  “I’ve had trouble the last few years with drug addiction. It almost ruined my life. Rocky talked with me all the time about it, offering me hope, giving me support. He wanted to help me recover.” His voice broke. “And then he gave me … the ultimate sacrifice … the greatest gift of all …” He took a deep breath. “A few nights ago, he shielded me … and he died instead of me; he saved my life.” Tears rolled down his cheeks. “He died for me … I’ll never forget him, and I’ll think of him every day … for the rest of my life.” He wiped his eyes and face with a handkerchief and looked out over the audience. “And thanks to Rocky, the addiction demon is gone from me, forever.”

  “Amens” erupted from the audience, and Aaron saw many people in the pews blotting their eyes with tissue.

  After the service, Aaron motioned to Brad outside the church.

  “I looked around for any of Rocky’s family. Did his ex-wife come today?” Aaron said.

  “No. She wasn’t interested.”

  Chapter 35

  Buck Bogarty wiped his eyes to hold back the tears.

  He’s my dad. Why doesn’t he talk to me?

  He floored the hot rod’s accelerator. Headlights illuminated only a short span of the winding country road in front of the car. Three guys rode along with him in the car, and they howled with delight as Buck would negotiate tight turns with squealing tires and then accelerate down straightaways.

  “Let her rip, Buck.”

  “Take it to the limit.”

  “Let’s see what she can do.”

  They didn’t notice the frown on Buck’s face.

  A low hill appeared in the headlights, a hump in the road. Buck’s hot rod hit the bump and went airborne, then slammed back down on the road. He didn’t anticipate the sharp turn a few yards away from the hill. As he strained with the steering wheel to follow the road, the car lurched onto the two right tires and then began to roll and bounce off the road and into the trees. Buck’s vision went black.

  Several minutes later, Buck opened his eyes and coughed. He lay in shallow water, and he spat and cleared his mouth then raised his body up into a sitting position. As he stood up, he felt stiffness in his neck and lower back.

  Buck looked around and spotted his car perched on its side against some trees. “Hello,” he said.

  He heard moaning, and two heads appeared from the grass near the car. “Buck, are you okay?” someone said.

  Two figures stood up from the grass and brushed off their clothes. Buck walked over to them. “Ever’one all right?”

  “I think so,” one of the guys said. “I guess we had a wreck.”

  “Where’s Spike?” Buck said.

  They searched the area for several minutes.

  “Over here.” One of the guys kneeled down and shook a body in the grass. “Hey, I don’t think he’s breathing.”

  Buck ran over and dropped to his knees at the other side of Spike’s limp body.

  After shaking the body again, the guy looked up at Buck. “He’s not breathing. What do we do? Buck, what do we do?”

  Buck stared at Spike and started to speak.

  “C’mon, Buck. We’ve got to do something.”

  Buck bent down and began to breathe into Spike’s mouth.

  Don’t die, Spike. Please, don’t die.

  Buck pulled Spike’s jaw down to open his mouth more, and his second breath was more forceful. He saw Spike’s chest rise out of the corner of his eye. Damn it, Spike. Wake up.

  After several seconds, Spike coughed once and took several breaths. Buck shook him, and Spike opened his eyes.

  Buck sat back and exhaled. “Thank God.”

  Spike raised his head. “What happened?”

  “I wrecked my hot rod. Does anything hurt?”

  Spike considered the question. “Not too bad.” Buck and the other two guys helped Spike stand up. He stretched his arms and legs, and felt his head and chest. “I don’t think anything’s broke.” He looked up. “Why are you shaking, Buck?”

  Buck thrust his hands into his pockets, dropped his head, and walked away.

  ****

  Aaron lay stretched out on his bed late that night. Various body parts ached from his Big Thicket ordeal, and he hadn’t slept well for the last several nights.

  He sat up in bed and slammed his fist into his palm. I know I can make this job work. I’ve done some good here already.

  He peered into the painting on the wall across from his bed.

  At the end of that dirt trail, those people in the trees are warning me about something. That must be one heck of a dangerous path.

  Chapter 36

  After Forrester Brighton was shot, Aaron saw Marley only by happenstance.

  Around noon on a sunny Saturday, he spotted Marley and Cristal in their front yard and pulled his car to a stop at the side of the road. He waved from the car and walked up to them.

  “You look well, Cristal.” He looked at Marley. “Is she back to normal?”

  “Yes, as if nothing had happened. She doesn’t remember much about her time in the hospital. And as you can see, the tick rash is all gone.”

  “It’s great to see her healthy again.” He patted Cristal’s shoulder.

  Cristal held her forearm up to him. “I have a sore.”

  Aaron noticed a red spot where an intravenous catheter had penetrated the skin. Yellow coloring surrounded the spot.

  “She’s proud of that sore,” Marley said. “She painted a sun around it.”

  Cristal nodded. “That’s how I got my medicine.”

  Aaron leaned down and examined the colorful spot. “Nice job. The medicine helped you, like the sun does.”

  He stepped back and looked at Marley. “Now, we all have our battle wounds.”

  Marley met his gaze.

  Aaron crossed his arms. “How’s Forrester?”

  Marley smiled. “It’s rough, but he’s learning to live with the injury. He’s going to the rehab center tomorrow.”

  Cristal tugged on Aaron’s arm. “Genie made my wish come true. My daddy’s coming home.”

  Aaron sighed, and he nodded at Cristal. “I’m happy for you.”

  Marley touched his arm. “Thanks for helping out with the Taggett family.”

  Aaron nodded. “That’s worked out well.” He looked down. “So far anyway.”

  “Keep at it. I have faith in you.”

  He reached out and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back for a moment, then she let go.

  “Goodbye,” Aaron said.

  He turned and walked away, stepped into his car, and looked back.

  Marley hadn’t moved. A breeze lifted her hair. She held her head high and smiled at
him.

  Later that afternoon, Aaron lounged in his living room and stared at the front windows. He hadn’t switched on the TV or the stereo, and the house was dark and quiet.

  He slapped his thighs. “Snap out of it. I’ve got things to do.”

  Aaron backed his car out of the driveway and headed for a grocery store to restock his kitchen. As he turned right onto the road to his clinic, he spotted someone walking in the front yard of Rocky Donnigan’s trailer home. As far as Aaron knew, the fate of Rocky’s home and possessions was yet to be determined after his untimely death.

  Aaron pulled his car to the side of the road. A man looked up as Aaron stepped out of the car.

  “Preston.” Aaron hiked over to him through the tall grass.

  “Hi, Doc.”

  “You look good. Is the shoulder healing well?”

  Preston wore a sling to support his left shoulder. “It’s coming along.”

  “Stop by the clinic in a few days and let me check you out.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  Aaron glanced at the trailer home. “I guess someone will dismantle this place. I don’t think it’s worth much.”

  “I’m looking for his bike. Have you seen it?”

  “Maybe it’s around back.” They walked to Rocky’s back yard and spotted the bike propped up against the back of the trailer.

  Preston ran his hand over the handlebars. “Can I take it with me? I’ll take good care of it.”

  Aaron put his hand on Preston’s back. “I don’t think anyone will mind. I can’t think of a better place for it.”

  Preston stared at the bike. “Sometimes I feel like Rocky is still watching out for me.”

  “Maybe he is. That can give you strength.”

  Aaron lay in bed that night and stared at the ceiling. His body aches were less intense today, but all evening, his heart had raced and pounded off and on.

  He sat up on the side of the bed and felt his pulse. Heart rate about 100 beats a minute. It’s not my thyroid; I’ve had that checked, and I stopped drinking caffeine late in the day.

  He sighed. I know stress can kill. Maybe it’s stress from all this craziness going on around me.

  He relaxed back on his pillow. At least, I haven’t had a nightmare for a while.