The Vigilante

by Ramona Forrest

  She made a coffee and sat in Chet’s big leather chair, hoping to relax. With the TV on she settled to watch an old movie. The phone rang and she saw on her caller ID, it was Bob. “Oh, how I’d love to see him, but seeing anyone just now would be too much. I can’t tell him what’s happening to me. Not now. I just want to finish the movie and go to bed.”

  She let it ring and listened to his voice on the answering machine.

  “Hey darlin’, I’m hungry. If you get this anytime soon, give me a ring. I’d really like to see you tonight. I won’t be off for several afternoons after this.” His soft, deep-toned voice gently cajoled her into picking up—almost.

  “Darn him, oh how I wish I could. But, today’s been too much.” She hadn’t eaten all day. “I don’t feel hungry anymore, either!”

  She hadn’t taken a shift for more than two weeks. “I’ll delay taking Will for a day and take a shift tomorrow,” she promised herself. “I need to do something ‘normal’ for a change.”

  ***

  Martha arrived at the hospital and received her assignment. “Oh good,” she murmured quietly to herself. “Med-surg. I couldn’t hack any other floor, especially Psych. Too close to home for me.”

  She picked up the printed information on her patients and settled in for the report. Her heart took a turn when Bob sauntered in and sat beside her. He nudged her shoulder. The questioning look in his eyes made her feel hunted and she hated it.

  “Not home last night, or were you?” His friendly, understanding grin eased her guilt for not returning his call, but she admitted nothing.

  She realized he didn’t blame her for being reclusive. Warmed by his understanding, she finally admitted. “I was home, Bob. Someday, I’ll tell you everything and be glad of it, but not now. There’s no way I can.”

  Gracie Monahan cleared her throat, tapped her pen on the table, and started the tape. The room became all business. They listened intently to the taped report, accompanied by the sounds of sipping coffee, soda, and scratching pens on paper.

  Bob had difficulty paying attention. He noticed her arm bore no further odd stains, and she looked as though she’d actually had a good, long sleep. The mystery of Martha dug deep into his mind. He’d know everything about her one day. He felt certain about that. He’d have this woman for his own. He knew that, too. Anymore, the very sight of her excited something in him. He was sure she had feelings toward him, but that hidden something in her life held her back. Something had this woman in a vice-like grip, and it had to be something monumental.

  Martha’s mind was happily filled with dressings, pain control, doctor’s orders, charting, and emergencies that always popped up. Troubled thoughts were buried by her hectic schedule. She reveled in the work. It healed her troubled soul, yet, down deep, everything waited in her mind until the frenetic activities, expected and unexpected, ended.

  As Martha picked up her purse, Bob appeared at her elbow, now warmly familiar. “You won’t put me off tonight, lady. Hungry?”

  She knew he meant to spend time with her, if only for a snack after work. Martha wished to escape his company and instantly hated the disturbing thoughts that prompted her feelings. Knowing she couldn’t avoid him, and since the larger part of her ached to be with him, she smiled, tremulously, as her bottom lip quivered. “Yes, I could eat a bite, I guess.”

  “Such enthusiasm, come on then.” He ushered her into his truck. Turning to her, his eyes searching her face, he kissed her. “It’s worse, isn’t it?”

  She enjoyed his kiss in spite of her negative thoughts. “Yes, I think I’m about to lose my mind. Everything is piling up on me. I take very few shifts these days. I’m not sure I’m able to do a decent job anymore and I fear for my patients.”

  Bob reached for her, enclosing her in a bear-hug. Looking into her distraught face, his eyes, deep with understanding, entreated her to let him help. “I wish you’d let me in, woman. I’ve heard about everything, and nothing you could say would turn me off. Nothing!”

  Martha couldn’t allow his help but she did relax in his embrace, even managed a smile. “If you knew the truth about me, you’d never say that or be so sure of yourself.”

  “What, you’re an ax murderer now?” He laughed. “I believe you’d be the nicest ax murderer I’ve ever met.” He kept her in his embrace and laughed again. “I always wanted to date one of those.”

  “I see you’re full of nonsense this evening,” she said with a chuckle. Then she grew serious. “I’m terribly temped to tell you the whole story, and I would if I really knew what it was.” She couldn’t stop the frustration that crept into her voice and knew she only made things worse with every word.

  “Ye gods woman, the mystery deepens!”

  “It’s still mostly an unknown to me, too. Strange things have happened to me over the past few months, and I’m learning it relates to some hidden, traumatic, occurrences in my very young childhood.” She puffed out an exasperated breath. “I don’t know everything as yet, and I dread finding out. It scares me to death. They say I’m not quite ready to know everything.”

  “They, Martha? When you can, let me help. You need a strong shoulder to rely on, and I’ve got just the one for you, right here. Don’t you realize how good we are together? You make me feel whole—complete somehow. I don’t want to lose that. I never thought I’d find it again.”

  “Oh, Bob!” Martha pressed closer into his solid presence, so reassuring and safe. “I think we’d better go eat, mister.” She pulled away and smiled through her tears. Touched by his words, she found it difficult to say more.

  He shoved the big vehicle in gear and they sped away. Her mystery remained un-resolved, yet he knew a deepening determination to find a way to help her. I’m falling in love with this woman!

  CHAPTER 15

  Martha tried to relax after her date, wonderful though it had been. Bob aroused feelings she didn’t know how to handle. Her nerves were tied in knots as she paced about her home until, in desperation, she switched on the tube and settled with a cup of hot chocolate.

  With intense shock, she heard the commentator blare out his latest: “This just in! Earlier today, two young girls, age six and seven, were attacked and one of them was sexually molested by a small, dark-complexioned man who forced the other child to watch. They fought and struggled, and finally managed to get away from their abductor. He escaped, driving what the girls described as older green sedan. The police are following the case closely, looking for a potential suspect in the same area where two other small girls were accosted.”

  Martha was overwhelmingly enraged by the newscast. She clenched her fists and ground her teeth. “Will our children never be safe?” She jumped up and paced, wringing her hands and staring blindly at the TV. Her fingernails dug into her palms and her knuckles were white with tension. “Why can’t they stop these fiends from terrorizing our children?”

  Something in the newscast tore at her memory. An older green sedan? Why did the description of the car sound familiar? Martha’s hair stood on end. Had she seen a car like that somewhere? She wracked her brain trying to remember where she’d ever seen such a car.

  A fog began filling her mind. Her thoughts became muddled and feelings of familiarity dogged her until she finally sought her bed.

  “Maybe I’ll get it together in the morning.” Turning to her side, she bunched the pillow up under her head and against her shoulder. “Maybe if I think of Bob and not another child predator, I’ll get some sleep. I can’t believe how wicked our snug, safe world has become!” She lay there, her heart racing, and mind whirling in agitated frustration. Finally, unable to fall asleep, she took a Dramamine. “Maybe now, I’ll rest—I’m so damned tired!”

  ***

  Serena rose from the bed, shook herself and headed straight for the garage. Time to reconnoiter. She grinned. Hadn’t she kept watch on Callahan’s small home for two months or more—watching, waiting, and learning his every move? “If I remember correctly, this Denny guy
owns an older green sedan. How many times have I seen it parked at Callahan’s, taking him out for drinks, to The Paradisio, or to the jogging park?”

  She’d watched Callahan enough to know his habits and often wondered why he avoided driving his own car. What sort of work did Denny do that he couldn’t afford a decent looking car for himself? Had someone fingered Callahan’s car from a previous crime, and the police were looking for it? With his record as a pedophile, he must have been busy in other areas.

  His buddy, Denny, definitely had an attraction for little girls. More than once she’d seen him waving and offering treats to school children walking to or from school. Had he been the one who’d attacked the little girls? Ages six and seven, the newsman had said. First grade and second grade ages, the kind of small girls Serena had seen Denny waving to with his sweet little gestures.

  He frequented areas where children played or walked, away from their homes. Sometimes he offered candy or toys to them, usually to small females. Why so small? She wondered.

  “He’d be the kind Callahan would gravitate to. Of course, Denny would maintain an association with a child molester like Fred Callahan.” She snorted in derision. “Birds of a feather—filthy, depraved, pedophilic bastards. Sure, they’d know each other. Why not?”

  “That dizzy wimp, politically correct, Martha hasn’t got the courage of a gnat, but I do, you damned bet I do!” Serena exclaimed into the air about her. She felt strong and enraged at the injustice of the world. “Somebody’s got to stand up to these monsters. If the police haven’t got the balls to take care of these bastards, I know someone who has!”

  Action was required, but with caution. It had to be planned very carefully so the wrong party didn’t get nicked. She giggled at her thoughts. “More work for the strong one.” She laughed and plotted a course of action based on what she’d already seen.

  Martha had completed a course at the Junior College, learning the art of theatrical make-up. She couldn’t imagine why she’d taken it. Just a fun course, a whim, she’d decided. Learning the intricacies of some of the bizarre sorts of disguises and character building make-up had proved enlightening as well as fun. Serena knew why. Being invisible aided her in her work. A thing like that had to be learned. Serena knew Martha, but Martha did not know Serena.

  In the garage, Serena pulled a black case from behind the plywood. Inside she saw what she needed for tonight’s business. Setting to work, she transformed herself into a homeless man. A scruffy, half-bearded face, reddened eyes, filthy, ragged clothes, a torn old hat, and gloves completed the disguise.

  “I could use a grocery cart full of old junk, but for tonight I’ll have to wing it.” She got into the car and drove to Callahan’s area. “Maybe his buddy, Denny, will pay a visit, and I can scope out his car.”

  Parking two blocks away, she walked aimlessly toward her target. “I’ll get close enough so if Denny shows I can hear what they’re talking about.” She leaned against a light pole, and waited. “I need to be sure. Wouldn’t want to make any mistakes now, would I?” She grimaced at the thought. “Most men could use a bit of clipping.” She never wondered why she disliked men, she just did. Well, except for that sexy Bob Chance, but she had a few reservations about him, too.

  Feeling chilled from the high-mountain, night winds, she’d begun to shiver a bit when an older sedan pulled up in front of Fred’s place. “Well, if it’s not an old green Pontiac. Didn’t know they made them anymore,” she muttered softly under her breath. Denny got out and went in, not bothering to knock.

  “Must feel right at home around here.” It puzzled her. “Wonder why he comes here so late, long after midnight.” By the shadows passing across the windows she guessed the two men went toward the back of the small frame house.

  “Maybe take in a game or two while they discuss their latest crimes?” she muttered as she stepped over the sagging fence and entered the yard. She’d made certain Fred Callahan had no dog. A dog sinking its teeth into her leg—wouldn’t be that nice? She quietly made her way toward a window. A subdued light emitted from it and the shade, raised just high enough, allowed her a partial view of the room.

  Suddenly, a hand reached out and yanked the shade down tight, but through a small hole in it she saw the two men huddled together. Their voices were too muted for her to catch their conversation.

  She placed her ear to the icy glass. “I should have taken lip-reading, too. It’s hard to tell what they are saying. Denny looks scared. I wonder what about. I may need a lot more time with his case.” She waited and listened, her ear freezing cold against the window, and felt chilled to the bone.

  “You damned fool!” Serena heard that comment clear enough. Callahan’s voice was a thin, high-pitched wail. “Wasn’t what happened to me bad enough? What the hell’s wrong with you, Denny? Now what’ll you do? They’ll be looking for an old green car. Why not drive that thing to Denver and have it painted? Better yet, drive the dammed thing off a cliff!”

  “Jeez, tell the world, will you, Fred? And stop your incessant whining. I’m the one under the gun now. I’m trying to think what to do. I wish I’d shut both those damned kids up. The one got loose and screamed her goddamned head off. I had to get out of there, and fast!” He glared at Callahan. “Hiding your own car? You never take it anywhere. Why not, Freddie Boy? Police looking for it?”

  “Never you mind about my car. It’s yours they’re after. Mind your own business, you damned fool!” Callahan changed his tone, becoming conciliatory, “Shit, Denny, I know how badly you needed it, but now, what’ll you do?” Serena saw Callahan’s hand reach out in sympathy, touching Denny’s shoulder. “I hope to hell it was worth it!” The two men stood together, commiserating, trying to figure a way out of Denny’s dilemma.

  “Filthy, damned, birds of a feather!” Serena breathed. “He is the one! That evil, sorry little bastard raped and molested that poor little girl!” She gnashed her teeth while she made her way around the side of the house. She wanted a look at Fred’s unused automobile. She saw it parked close against the back of the house, a dark blue sedan, partially hidden by heavy growths of shrubbery.

  “So, Freddie, boy, you’ve got yourself a sordid history all tucked away back here behind the bushes, just like your dear friend, Denny. Bet the police would like to know your past a little better.” Hmmm,” she mused. “Must be a reason Fred never drives his car, fool should have traded it in if it was hot.”

  Serena turned away from that house of evil, made her way from the yard, and slipped down the street to her vehicle. She chuckled as she drove the darkened streets. “This will take a bit of putting together. I hope Martha isn’t planning to work a lot in the next few weeks.” Once in the garage, Serena shucked off her disguise, shoved the materials behind the sheet of plywood, and entered the house.

  Scrubbing at her heavy make-up, she snorted. “No need to drive poor Martha any crazier than she already thinks she is.” Smiling, she added, “That Bob Chance is worth a look-see. Martha, you dizzy milk-sop, go for it!”

  ***

  Struggling awake, Martha stumbled to the bathroom. At a casual glance in the mirror, she jerked in alarm. “God in heaven! What is this stuff on my face?” Peering closely, she saw the remnants of scraggly hair and smears of heavy make-up clinging in several places. Martha scrubbed vigorously to clean away the strange stuff. Her cheeks were reddened from whatever her alter had used. “It looks like rouge or something. What’s going on?” Her face appeared pale with dark circles beneath her eyes. “I look like I never get any sleep, and I feel like it, too.”

  Fretting over this newer aberration and her inability to remember, she knew for certain that once again something had happened. “How could she have gotten all that make-up or whatever it was on me without my knowledge? And I can’t believe how tired I feel this morning. Morning? It’s after ten o’clock!”

  In her heart, she knew the reason was her other self. But what had that unknown person been up to? Feeling very uneasy and
puzzled, she stepped into the shower and scrubbed herself clean. Toweling off, she checked again and thought her appearance, though reddened, had improved.

  Martha wanted to call her daughter but refused to add to Jeannie’s already overwhelming troubles. “I can’t put this nonsense on her.”

  She’d wait and see how she felt. “I’m taking Will to Biggie’s Burgers again, I’ll see her then.” She sighed in frustration. “Oh, how I long to confide in someone! Worrying about an alter’s aberrant behavior is taxing me no end. I’m frightened and completely alone with it. Who’d believe it if I told them?”

  But she knew her doctors would, and she planned to tell them.

  CHAPTER 16

  Jake took some time from watching TV to think about the purple spots he’d seen. “When that detective, Mapus, came into the ER, asking about the creep who got cut, and mentioned seeing spots, I couldn’t remember where I’d seen them at the time.” He frowned. “He said purple spots were found on the ground at the crime scene. But I’ve seen someone with funny spots, too—at work, I think. Could a thing like that be a connection to a crime or just a coincidence?”

  He jumped up suddenly remembering. “I saw those spots on that older nurse, Lavery. She’d tried to hide them with make-up, but I saw ‘em, at least the one time.” Excited, he paced the floor of his tiny apartment. The walls seemed too close and he felt closed in. My God! I wonder what this means?

  He worked to remember when she’d had the damning marks. “I’ll keep an eye out. Maybe I’ll remember it better if I see her at work again. I don’t want to call that detective until I know what I’m talking about.” Unable to rest in his excitement, he switched on the TV. Finding nothing of interest, he hoisted a few beers and went to bed.