The Vigilante

by Ramona Forrest

  ***

  Figueroa found that the dumpster in question had been emptied earlier that morning. He ordered it off limits and sent forensics to check it out. Later that day, he took the report to Ryan. “So far, nothing at the flop houses except what this homeless man told us. Someone dumped trash over him and it included this.” He held out the report.

  “Stains found in dumpster prove to be Gram’s stain, or Gentian Violet.” He looked at Figueroa. “Good work, Ben. Our ‘vigilante’ is getting nervous, getting rid of evidence that way. We can’t warrant spending thousands of dollars digging in the city dump for a few stains, but this tells us a little bit anyway. What part of the city did this find take place?”

  Figueroa told him. Ryan scowled. “Not too far from either family. Have we run a thorough check on every family member of both the Mercer, as well as the Moulton families?” He gave the officer a stern look and added, “I want the aunts, uncles, grandparents—all of them—questioned, too.” He dismissed Figueroa, and grabbed the intercom. “Harris, got a minute?”

  ***

  Martha awakened slowly, stretched luxuriously, feeling elated and rested. But the feeling of warmth, and the sound of the deep breathing of another soul in bed beside her, startled her into vivid awareness. Realizing her situation, her eyes flew open and, not wanting to disturb her sleeping partner, she slithered carefully out of the bed to find the bathroom.

  Returning, she looked at Bob’s sleeping form and listened to his soft breathing and occasional sigh. She remembered some of the night. She’d entered into a new dimension in their relationship and wondered, What asinine thing have I done, now?

  He stirred, raised his head, and smiled at her, his eyes shining, with a devilish twitch at the corners of his mouth. “Good morning, darling.”

  “Good morning yourself, Bob,” Martha murmured. She felt her face flush red. “Lord, I’m blushing like a school girl!”

  “Look like one, too, hair all mussed up that way. Did you sleep well?” He stretched his arms and she saw his long, smooth muscles, moving beneath his slightly tanned skin, and the thick, bunched hair under his arms. He stayed that way, hands beneath his head, watching her, saying nothing.

  That sight of him lying there like that had an erotic effect on her. He wasn’t in his nurse’s uniform now and his masculinity struck a cord deep inside her in a way she’d never known. “Y—yes, I slept very well,” she stammered. “But, Bob, what happened last night? I have to know.”

  “Nothing happened,” he assured her with a slight nod of his head as he gazed longingly at the long, finely sculpted legs displayed below the T-shirt she’d slept in. “You needed rest and security. I could do that for you and I did.”

  With a sly grin, he added, “When you come to me, I want all of you, not the poor, fractured soul you were last night. I won’t take advantage of a woman that way. Our day will come and I’ll wait for it. But you’re in some kind of trouble, lady,” he went on. “I’ve watched this happening to you over the past several months. I’ll help if I can, and if I did last night in a small way, I can hardly say it was a great sacrifice. I loved every minute of it. It’s been a long time since I held a woman in my arms all night, especially like that.”

  He smiled, mischievously, devilishly, and in response, she was thrilled inside. Oh Man! What a charming, devastating, wonderful hunk of a guy! “I don’t know what to say, but I do feel well rested this morning. Thank you, Bob. I think you saved my life last night.” She hid the erotic way he affected her, not daring to admit it to him, and barely to herself. Her worries were missing this morning, as well, she noticed.

  “Hungry?” He slid out of the bed. “I’ll be just a minute, go ahead into the kitchen. It’s to the left, off the living room.” He ducked into the bathroom and she noted he’d worn only skimpy shorts last night. She also caught a glimpse of a well-put-together male body—tall, strong, and finely proportioned. Just now, he looked an ancient god, and those touches of gray only added to the appeal of the man she knew he was.

  Martha hurriedly dressed and left the bedroom. As she moved through his home, she noted the masculine furnishings, leather chairs, a wide screen TV, magazines lying about, but no plants or figurines. A man’s digs, no doubt of that, and she felt the comfort of being there with him. From all she’d seen of Bob, he was totally a man a woman could trust. He’d certainly proved it during the night. Not even a wayward touch that she was aware of, though she did wonder about that more than once, with a smile tugging at her lips.

  He came into the kitchen, put on a pot of coffee, took out a pitcher of orange juice, and turned to her. “So, my lady, bacon and eggs?” His eyebrows twitched with humor. “Doing okay with all this?” He wore snug jeans and an old T-shirt, but no shoes. His feet, long and slender, had crisp dark hairs on the toes.

  “I’d have to say yes to that, Bob. This is all so bizarre. I can’t believe any of it!” She found herself laughing and completely relaxed. It felt so good to feel normal, just plain normal. No other words could describe her feelings.

  But, with all the wonder and security of the present moments, outside this haven lay her confusing world of unknowns, waiting, just waiting—she had to let him know what she faced on a daily basis. Now, after the goodness and caring he’d lavished upon her, she had to ruin it all with the truth as she knew it. He won’t love me so much when he knows what’s going on with me. The thought of telling him about her other personality, made her physically ill for a moment. I’ll wait until we’ve eaten, she decided.

  They had a merry breakfast. He did a fine job of cooking and told jokes and made funny comments while she ate. But finally, she opened the discussion. “Bob, I want to tell you what’s happening with me. I see now, that you have a right to know all about me. I don’t know everything yet, but I hope to soon.”

  “You don’t have to tell me anything, Martha.”

  “I realize that, but with what we have between us now, I do need to tell you. I care more deeply for you than you know, and it’s only right.” She squared her shoulders and began. “It started about six or more months ago...” And she told him her story.

  When she finished, he looked puzzled. “Aside from the fact that you know you have an alternate personality, you have no idea what it, or she, does? That’s incredulous! It could also be criminal, have you thought of that, Martha?”

  “No, not really. I smell smoke in my hair some mornings, but I’ll never believe I’d commit a criminal act, even as someone else.” She clenched her hands. “I have noticed an unusual amount of anger in myself, though, and that’s not like me at all.” Remembering the towering rage she felt toward the patient, Sykes, she couldn’t bring herself to mention the man’s name. Not to Bob, even now after she’d aired what she knew of her mental problems to him. Now, another secret on my part. It just keeps going!

  ***

  Ryan sat at his desk talking to Harris. “Let’s run a complete check on every family member associated with the two most recent victims of child assault.” “Look for medical or rural backgrounds as well,” he emphasized. “Might find something that fits. Sure hate going after those people. They’ve suffered so much.” He shook his head at that.

  “Yeah, sometimes this is a tough business. We’ll get right on it, Ryan.”

  “I’ll take the Moulton’s myself. I’ve got to get out of this damned office more, need some sun on my face. We’ve got all we can off the computer from other cities. Our friend Callahan has been busy in several places. I’ve asked the locals there to do some questioning along these lines as well. We’ll get that poor, cut up bastard, on something, yet.”

  ***

  Martha drove home from the hospital parking lot. Her cozy, well-furnished home, once a warm, secure haven, seemed cheerless and empty to her as she remembered the warmth, security, and closeness of her night in Bob’s arms. As she was floating about her house in a romantic trance, the phone jarred her reverie. She picked it up.

  “Hello.” Her
voice sounded soft and heavy in her ears.

  “Where were you all last night?” Jeannie’s insistent voice rang in her ear, filled with worry. “I called and called you!”

  “I’ll tell you, but not over the phone. Don’t worry, child, I’m just fine. In fact, never better. And just why were you calling me all night?”

  “I needed to talk to you. But I couldn’t reach you. Where were you?”

  “Hey, I’m on my way over. I want to see Will, anyway.” She hung up, got in her car, and drove over to her daughter’s.

  At Jeannie’s, she couldn’t hide her exuberant smile. “Okay, okay. I spent the night with a friend.”

  “There’s more to it than that, now spill!” Jeannie pushed, having some very strong suspicions at seeing her mother’s rosy face.

  “Yesterday, so much happened to me, I was an absolute mess and Bob wouldn’t let me go home. He took me to his house and took care of me all night long.” Martha felt the flush of heat crawling over her face.

  “Whoa! Getting warm around here, is it?” Jeannie giggled. “It’s serious, isn’t it? You can tell me all about it later, and I want to hear everything!”

  She quickly changed the subject to her son, her voice filled with cautious hope. “Will’s in his room, playing Legos, and so far hasn’t broken anything or slammed them into the walls.” She led Martha through the house. “Look at him. Maybe he’s turning a corner, but we aren’t sure, yet.”

  Martha saw the little boy sitting quietly building a crooked structure. His childish voice muttering words as he toiled away. She took heart, feeling a ray of hope seeing him quietly at play, using his imagination, and building constructively. Maybe with good therapy and parenting, he’d survive this ugly thing that happened to him. The positive thoughts heartened her and gave her hope for Will.

  “So, tell me about your visit with the Mercer’s. How’d that go?” Martha asked, more than curious.

  “It was painful. Their little girl Emily sits like Will did for so long. She’s in therapy, of course. She has soft wavy, blonde hair, and her eyes are blue, but they were clouded. I don’t know how else to describe them. It broke my heart seeing her like that and knowing their pain. Brings back how it was for us in the beginning.”

  Jeannie wiped a tear and continued. “I told them how things had gone with Will. You can’t believe how grateful they were for the visit. No one understands how drastically that kind of trauma affects the entire family. They’ve also felt the drawing away of casual friends, not their real friends, of course.” She looked at Martha. “Mom, when I see little children playing or going to school, I wonder what terrible secrets some of them hide. And you know some of them are molested repeatedly, just read the statistics!”

  “I do the same thing, Jeannie. It’s ugly giving thought to a thing like that, but how can you escape it?” Martha paused then added quickly, “Did you see where they arrested a man in the Mercer case?”

  “Yes I did.” Jeannie replied. “Isn’t he the other one that Vigilante fixed good and proper?”

  At that news, Martha felt strange, distant, and she suddenly had to leave Jeannie’s home. “Well, I should go.”

  Interrupted by the ringing door bell, Jeannie opened it to see a man dressed in a suit standing there. “Yes, may we help you?” Her eyes narrowed at seeing him there, waiting, briefcase in hand.

  Ryan identified himself. “I’m Detective Ryan Mapus, one of the investigators in the Callahan case—the Garver case, too, actually. May I come in and ask a couple of questions.”

  “Certainly, but we’ve already been through all that. Your officer Harris came here asking questions, too. Haven’t we had enough? Why us again?” Jeannie couldn’t keep the anger from her voice. But she opened the door farther to admit him.

  “We have some information and we need to follow up on it.” After settling in the den, he cleared his throat. “Can you tell me about your existing extended family?”

  Puzzled, Jeannie stared at him. “My mom’s here now, but Dad passed away some time ago. Martin’s family lives in Connecticut. They haven’t visited here for two years.”

  “I’d like to speak to your mother then, since she’s here.”

  Jeannie called Martha in from Will’s room. Will came along and his eyes widened in fear, seeing a strange male presence in their home. He clutched tightly to Martha’s leg, his little face a mask of uncertainty.

  “Now you’ve frightened our son.” Jeannie couldn’t suppress her anger and exasperation at this latest intrusion. Not for justice in Will’s assault, but to benefit the criminal! “Why can’t you just leave us alone?”

  CHAPTER 25

  “I’m very sorry,” Ryan replied. “I realize why you feel the way you do, but we have a case to solve. I’m sure it won’t take long,” To Martha, he asked, “May I speak with you in private? The sight of me upsets the child. I’m sorry for that, but I have a couple of questions. It’s our job and we have to do things that aren’t always our choice. I can say that Denny Garver will never draw a free breath again, if that is helpful in any way.”

  Martha sniffed. “I don’t believe I know the man, officer, nor do I care. Our concern is with Will’s attack and that was screwed up beyond belief.” She motioned him to follow her. “We’ll go into Martin’s den.” She led the way, bade Ryan to a seat, and took one herself. “So what’s this all about, officer. Just why are you here?”

  “We are checking several issues regarding the families of the victims, looking for corroboration concerning information we’ve come across.” The woman in front of him appeared a solid citizen, loving grandparent, and a strong, intelligent, older female. One who’d certainly kept her fine looks. Clearing his throat again, he began with, “How long have you lived in Colorado Springs?”

  Martha answered his questions, but soon felt the insidious sensation of being hunted. She didn’t like it or understand it and his questions regarding her rural background made the blood in her veins turn cold. It also made her very angry, but biding her time and holding her anger, she kept up a serene demeanor. “Are there any other questions?”

  “You say you had a farm type upbringing. I wonder, do you remember anyone, your father maybe using a bright blue-violet solution on anything? We had a question come up about that and I wonder if you might know anything about the use of it. It could be helpful.”

  “A blue solution? What possible correlation does that have with what happened to those men? What are you talking about?” This question had Martha’s pulse pounding. Not knowing why, she felt threatened. Why didn’t the man come right out and ask me if I know about my father using Gentian Violet on the freshly-castrated male calves, lambs, and baby pigs? Somehow, she knew exactly what the detective wanted to know and that she dared not answer his query.

  “Just thought I’d ask. I don’t know a lot about farming myself. It could be one of our clues, you might say.” Ryan instinctively knew she wasn’t going to mention knowing about the purple solution, but in her eyes, he saw the knowledge. His years on the force told him that much.

  His excitement rose at this new discovery. It didn’t fit with the woman sitting before him, except possibly for the excessive rage seething beneath her barely controlled mien. That was not lost on him, either.

  “Well, ma’am, that about does it. You work at Mercy Hospital, you said?” He had to ask, partly to modify his other questions, but to hear the way she answered this question as well. They looked for someone with a medical background.

  “I take a shift now and then, yes,” Martha said. “I mostly work to keep my hand in. My husband Chet left me fairly well off—enough anyway. I believe I mentioned being a widow.”

  “Yes, well thank you, Martha, I appreciate your help. We have to look everywhere to solve our cases.”

  Her face flushed and her grip tightened. “For the child predators, yes, but you did nothing at all to help our poor, little Will, did you?” She couldn’t hide her rising disdain for the competency of the loca
l police force.

  “I know how this looks. We’ve all got kids and deeply regret what happened in your grandson’s case. You have to know that.” He quickly realized his apology meant nothing to Martha. “We’ve done a lot of checking on Callahan. He’s been busy in other areas as well as here. We’ll get him on one of these other cases sooner or later. In fact, it will most likely be sooner.”

  “If he came here to prey on our children, it was because some other law enforcement professionals didn’t stop him where he came from. Maybe they had him and let him go so he could come here and destroy our little boy.” Martha bit off the words in her fury. “He’ll never be the same—how could any child be?” She flung the last words at Mapus, her rage flaring nearly out of control.

  Ryan caught a healthy glimpse of her deeply-held anger. He nodded. “I’m sure you’re right about that and I’m very sorry.” He rose from his chair. “I’ll be going now, ma’am, and thanks again.” He made his way to the door and Martha saw him out.

  After he left, she paced the floor, fuming inwardly. “That nosey detective—just why is he delving into our lives like that?” she asked Jeannie. “Why are they looking at us—at me?”

  “Oh, Mom, he isn’t looking at you in particular, he couldn’t be.” She frowned in thought. “He was looking for something, though. I felt it. What could he be looking for?”

  “I don’t know, but I have a funny feeling about it. He was digging into my farm background and curious about my nursing profession, too.” A heavy pressure building inside her made her gasp for breath. Some fateful knowledge nagged at her consciousness, but she couldn’t quite bring it to the surface.

  “Well, I must get home, Jeannie. I’ll take Will to Biggie’s Burger’s in the next day or two.”