The Vigilante

by Ramona Forrest

  ***

  Serena ran swiftly out into the night, leaving the nicely dressed man in his natty business suit, doubled up on the floor, groaning in pain. Laughing carelessly, she leaped into her car and sped away. “Whew, close call tonight! I won’t frequent that place anytime soon. That fancy cologne of his nearly made me change my mind, though. Some stuff that was! Whoo-ee!”

  CHAPTER 23

  Safely in her garage, with the door closed, Serena slipped out of her sexy duds. She tossed them behind the plywood then took another look. “If Martha ever pulls this plywood out from the wall, she’ll get the shock of her life, seeing that stuff.” She paused, thinking. Don’t know why I feel this way, but I’d better junk anything with blood on it, gloves, scalpels, those bloody dressings, and that half used bottle of Gram’s as well. It’s damning evidence, that’s what it is.

  She gathered the offending articles, except the racy clothing—and the sand bag. She couldn’t part with that, not knowing when she’d have the opportunity to obtain another one. Donning jeans and a sweat shirt, she put the stuff in the trunk. “I’ll slip over to a big dumpster and toss it.” With the evidence in a garbage bag, tied hurriedly at the top, she drove away as her garage door swung down behind her.

  In another part of Denver, she slipped behind a Safeway store to several huge metal dumpsters. Seeing no one about, Serena stepped out, opened the trunk, and grabbed the trash bag. She tossed it into one that looked the emptiest. “When they finish filling this thing, they’ll never see what’s in the bottom.”

  Driving away, she felt the usual fatigue settling into her body. The fog came creeping softly over her mind as she pulled into the garage. She sought her bed immediately, tossing the jeans and sweatshirt into a corner of her bedroom.

  ***

  Jackie Pitcher, snugly ensconced on a pile of rags near the bottom of the empty dumpster, heard the car pull up and the hurried footsteps. Without warning, garbage cascaded down onto him and his cozy sleeping quarters. His main concern that he’d be caught sleeping in the dumpster, he shoved the mess aside, hurriedly stood up, and looked up over the edge.

  He’d had a hard time finding a dumpster clean enough to sleep in and now someone had ruined his resting place by tossing refuse onto him and his clothing. In the dim light of early morning, he noticed the bag had come untied. As he pushed the garbage aside, a small glass bottle fell out, hit the bottom of the dumpster, and shattered. Drops of some dark fluid splattered the sides of the dumpster. He felt the liquid hit his face.

  “Damn, man cain’t find no place to rest his head, no how.” He didn’t see anything or anyone lurking about and, homeless or not, he had an inborn disdain of filth. “Cleanest place I had in ages, too.” He felt the rumblings of hunger stirring in the pit of his stomach. “Best head for the soup kitchen. Maybe they’ll let me peel a couple ’taters this morning. I like to pay for what I eat, I do.”

  Using a box he’d kept handy he slowly climbed out of the dumpster and shambled along the dark and deserted streets. It was coming light and the morning feed would be in the works. Thoughts of fresh coffee and maybe a nice fresh donut made his mouth water and his stomach grumble as he headed for the only friendly place he knew in his lonely, homeless world.

  “Some damned fool, dumpin’ trash at this unholy hour, anyway.” Fearful of contamination from the garbage, he was eager to get to the shelter and wash off. The sky paled and the gnawing discomfort of hunger in his gut kept him moving. “Sure hope the guard’ll let me in.”

  ***

  Martha had scheduled a shift for that afternoon. She’d slept until eight, felt exhausted, and smelled of smoke again. Alarm and confusion regarding her condition made her glad she was to see Dr. Carton at ten. She showered, dressed, ate a few bites of toast with her coffee, and squared herself for the visit.

  “I’ll have to tell him about everything that’s happened, though I wish I knew more about it. Seeing Sykes nearly did me in. He’s a broken wreck of a man now, but looking into that face made me crazy.” She rambled on in the privacy of her home where speaking aloud was a comfort to her. “I felt such horrendous anger at the sight of him. That’s not like me, though lately it has become like me, and that frightens me even more. I don’t get it.” She hoped the doctor could enlighten her about her feelings upon seeing that poor old wreck of a man.

  ***

  Once in the doctor’s office, she responded to his initial questioning. “I’ve been alright, but...” She related the latest incidents in her life, including smelling of smoke again, and named that hapless patient, then asked, “Why do I feel such terrible hatred for that broken down old man? I told him I hoped he suffers the tortures of holy hell before he dies. And he is dying. I know it’s cruel of me, but it happened so fast, it just slipped out!”

  “There’s a very good reason for that, Martha. He figures deeply in what happened to you. When you’re ready, we’ll delve into that time of your life in full detail. How about another hypnotic session? It might prove helpful in getting these things out where we can look at them.”

  “See if you can find out why I smell of smoke. I worry about that, too. I don’t smoke, never have. And why am I so horribly tired some mornings?”

  “We’ll have to see what Serena will tell us. She hasn’t mentioned much of what she does when she’s out. She thinks you’re a bit of a wimp, though.” He chuckled. “That’s common enough in these cases. She had to be the stronger one, as you know.”

  Dr. Carton worked unaided by Schoenfeld today. He proceeded to place her under hypnosis and when Martha had gone under, he asked for Serena.

  “I’m here, Doc, like always. What can I do ya’ for?” She giggled seductively and added, “She wants to know what I’ve been up to, eh?” Turning serious, she said, her voice low and confidential, “You wouldn’t want to know, Doc, and neither would the wimp. I’m here to tell ya, she couldn’t handle it.”

  “Why the cigarette smoke? Can you tell us that?”

  “Sure thing, Doc. I need a night out sometimes, and nothing too tame. Sometimes I go to The Paradisio. It’s a real jumpin’ dive. Lot’s to see around that place.” She laughed, and the sound rang harshly in his ears.

  “Anything else of interest?” he asked casually, masking his intense curiosity as best he could.

  “Now you’re getting nosy, Doc. I’m leavin’.” She withdrew her presence, leaving Martha, who sat quietly, her eyes closed, unresponsive—waiting.

  Obtaining no further verbal intercourse with Serena, Dr. Carton awakened Martha.

  “So, find out anything?” she queried. Her eyes weren’t burning, no crying, and no emotional workout under hypnosis this time.

  He passed on to her what he’d heard from Serena. “Ever been to that place, The Paradisio? Serena has, and often, I’d guess. She wouldn’t go further into her activities.” He hesitated. “I have the feeling they may not be something you’d approve of.” He cleared his throat. “Eventually we’ll get you and Serena integrated, and the sooner, the better, for your own protection, perhaps.”

  “Are you saying I may be doing something illegal as Serena?”

  “It’s possible. She was very evasive about what she does, other than mentioning the night club. It seems she likes to frequent The Paradisio. Often personalities like Serena have their own set of rules. Be very attentive to anything you hear or see. Not that you could ever guess what she does, but who’d be better than you to keep an eye out.”

  “Do you know why the sight of that old man is so upsetting for me?”

  He nodded. “Yes I do, but the time is not right to tell you everything. Neither Dr. Schoenfeld or I feel you’re quite ready to handle it emotionally.” He smiled gently. “Give us a bit more time, Martha.

  She nodded slowly, knowing he must be right in his summation of what he’d learned and suspected. “I guess I understand and I’ll try to be aware of what Serena does, but I don’t know that I can. A place called The Paradisio? My God! Sounds sleazy.
What kind of hell-hole is it?”

  The doctor merely shrugged, a half-smile on his face. “I have no idea, but apparently, Serena likes it.”

  Feeling tense and fearful for a new reason, Martha took her leave. “Now I have to watch my other self—what is she, some kind of slut?” The futility of it struck her deeply. “The Paradisio—no way!” This was another worry, a big one, but she was determined to find out what sort of place it was.

  Though extremely tired, she’d be unable to rest if she stayed at home so she worked the shift she’d taken. Entering the staffing office, she received med-surg again. “Okay, that’s fine,” she told the smiling young staffing clerk, all the while wondering if the young woman knew much about the people she sent to various floors. Jake came to mind, efficient perhaps, but caring? She wondered if he’d ever been.

  Bob walked onto the floor, and Martha felt a surge of excitement as she greeted him. “Hi. On again, huh?”

  He sat beside her as the taped report began. “Hey, lady, good to lay eyes on you, but unless I’m mistaken, you are more tired tonight than ever. You need me, don’t you? You know you do,” he said, keeping his voice low and confidential.

  His nearness warmed her and the way he let his leg touch her below the table, excited her. If only she could confide her situation. It would be such a relief to tell this good man everything. If I knew what the hell that was!

  She took in the fine male scent of him, and her fatigue seemed to melt magically away. After report, she felt a great sense of relief, knowing she didn’t have Sykes. That assignment, she’d have refused, and knew she could never explain her reasons. She waited to find out those reasons herself.

  Jake worked the ER, for this evening shift, but came to med-surg on his break. Martha had the uneasy feeling he sought her personally, though he did no more than nod in acquaintance. He chatted with Bob, and she overheard his gossipy commentary. Jake loved the importance of imparting gossip.

  “Hey, man, you should’a caught the action at The Paradisio last night. This overdressed dame rammed her knee right in the crotch of the biggest drug lord in the whole damned area. Dropped him like a rock. When he got back on his feet, I swear I’ve never seen such fury in a man’s eyes—nothing like that, not ever. He shuddered slightly with the telling. “God, they dripped cold, deadly murder!”

  Martha felt icy chills run rampantly throughout her body. Hadn’t she awakened smelling of smoke? She wanted to ask Jake more about the woman, what she looked like, but she couldn’t open her mouth. Could it have been Serena? Of course, it could have, she corrected herself. It all sounded right, somehow. She lingered around, hoping to hear more.

  Full of himself, Jake mouthed off to anybody who’d take the time to listen. “You ought to get a load of this chick! Dresses like a hooker, but won’t take up with any guy, or gal, who comes near. I’ve seen her in there before. Looks like a cougar on the prowl, watching everybody all the time—well, until she took up with Imperato. You could see she didn’t want to dance with him by the sour expression on her face. I think he forced her into it, dragging her around the floor that way. And then, my God, she decked the dude and left him moaning on the floor.” He laughed. “She ran out of there in a damned big hurry. You could hear her tires squealing clear inside the place.”

  He hunched his shoulders and lowered his voice. “If this Imperato dude ever gets hold of her, she’ll be wearing cement shoes in short order. I tell you, that man was mad as hell and damned embarrassed, too. You just don’t give the knee to a guy like him in public...well, not if you want to live, anyway.”

  He got up to leave. “Better get back, or they’ll be sending a guard after me. That big red head, Mary Mason, is the boss from hell.” He left the unit, his gait even slower than usual.

  Shaken, Martha struggled to get herself under control. She attended to her patients, and completed her charting. Her eyes burned with the fatigue that finally overcame her. She wanted to go home and sleep forever.

  Walking with her to her car, Bob stayed at her elbow. “Come with me, Martha. Let’s get a bite to eat. You don’t want to be alone. I know it. God, I wish you’d let me help you.”

  He crushed her in his arms. She held herself stiff and board-like until she suddenly gave way and crumpled against him, bursting into tears.

  “Oh Bob. I’m scared to death and there’s nothing I can do. I’m not getting myself together, and I feel like I haven’t slept in a month!”

  He held her for long moments then ushered her into his truck. “You’re coming home with me. You can’t be alone, not tonight, not the way you are.”

  His jaw, tight and firm, let her know she couldn’t fight his resolve, and since she had none of her own, she let him settle her into his big truck. He said nothing as he drove away.

  She didn’t even look out the window. Having no fight left, she only wanted to hide away in some safe place and forget everything.

  Reaching his small home, Bob led her inside. Taking her in his arms, he said, “Martha, I love you. I don’t care what your problems are, and just for tonight, I’m going to hold you close and keep you safe all night. I ask nothing more than that. Have no fear of me, you don’t need to.” He led her to his bed and helped her remove some of her clothing. “Here, have a T-shirt to sleep in.” He motioned toward the bathroom. “Go wash up, or whatever you do, and let’s get some rest.”

  As if in a dream, she complied. When she returned to him, he settled her into the bedding and slipped in beside her, embracing her. All stiff and trembling, she gave no dissent. She slowly relaxed against his solid, warm body, nestling ever closer into his quiet strength.

  “Oh, thank you, Bob, it feels wonderful, and safe, so heavenly it must be wrong—but it feels so right,” she murmured softly as she pressed herself into his big body soaking in all the warmth and security she found there as she drifted slowly off.

  Together with her, in his king-sized bed, Bob held her snug against him until she relaxed and let go. He heard her soft, deep breathing. “Now, my darling, sleep close to me. I won’t let anything happen to you, not tonight, not any night.” He felt hot tears flowing, and his chest swelled tight with emotion. It had been a lifetime since he’d held a woman he loved so dearly in his arms. He uttered a soft, earnest prayer, “Please, oh God, please, let me keep this one.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Ryan sat at his desk, frowning, his hands frequently shoving the unruly mop of thick blond hair off his forehead. Grabbing his intercom, he barked, “Harris, got a minute?”

  Harris shoved the door open. “What’s up?”

  “Have we checked around the flop houses with our information? Who knows what we’d turn up? We can’t overlook any possibilities. Clues come from many sources. That is, if you can get any of those people to talk. They’re not too open with police.” Ryan grimaced. “They don’t have much truck with us, these days—worried we’ll get them on vagrancy charges.”

  “I’ll get someone on it right away. Don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself. Could it be I’m finding it difficult to apprehend and prosecute this vigilante?” Harris half-laughed his answer. “It’s got to be someone who hates any and all child predators, molesters, pedophiles, or whatever.” He paused, added, “And you know in this crazy world that could include a hell of a lot of people.”

  “True enough, but we have a job to do, Harris, and like it or not we have to arrest this suspect and prosecute the hell out of him, or her. I can tell you, I don’t care much for the prospect of facing an angry public if we do just that. People are fed up with the leniency handed to child predators. Hell, in some states, they’re practically given a free ride.” He sighed. “In this state, it often looks the same damned way. Just ask the Moulton’s.”

  ***

  Sgt. Figueroa made the rounds of the flop houses asking if anyone had information on the recent vigilante attacks. In his query about finding blue, indelible marks on the victims, or if any of them had any truck with child predators
, he was met with cold stares and a few reticent replies. One elderly man hesitantly raised his hand.

  “Yes sir?” Figueroa queried.

  “Well, officer, one morning a couple days past, I was sleepin’ real good. Found me a nice place.” Jackie decided not to mention the dumpster. “Someone tossed a bag of garbage on top of me. Later, when I got a look in a mirror, I seen this here blue spot right on my forehead. I scrubbed like hell, and the damned thing wouldn’t come off.” He gestured at his forehead. “It’s faded now and sort of gone, but I don’t like being dirty, no siree, an’ don’t like no spots on me neither.”

  Figueroa stepped closer and took a look. “Sure appears to be a similar spot. Can you tell me just where you received this stain?”

  Reluctantly, and wishing he’d kept his mouth shut in the first place, Jackie nodded. “Well sir, I found this nice clean dumpster and nearly had a good night’s sleep down in there, until a car pulled up and somebody threw a bag of trash in on top of me. I never seen ‘em, though. They drove off right after. ‘Course, I didn’t want to show myself till they’d left.”

  “Will you take me to that dumpster?” Figueroa asked. He took Jackie’s name and what information was available. By not making an issue of his sleeping in the thing, he hoped to win the man’s co-operation.

  “Yes sir, I sure will,” Jackie complied, not willingly, but he’d opened his big mouth and had to go along with the rest of the investigation. “I need to get back to peel more ’taters, officer.”

  “Just take me there and I’ll see you get back real soon, Jackie.” Figueroa opened his squad car door for the vagrant to enter.