The Heart Knows What the Heart Wants

by Lori L. Clark

  With wide-eyed terror, she saw him. Eyes black with menace, he sneered at her in the reflection. "Estelle, I can't believe you were just going to leave without coming to see me," he said, eerily calm. Star gripped the edge of the sink with quaking hands as he stepped in behind her. "Is that any way to treat an old friend?"

  Her shoulders slumped in defeated resignation. He had her trapped, and she had nothing to fight back with. He reached toward her and smoothed his hand gently over her hair. "So soft and delicate," he murmured into her ear, sending fingers of dread down her spine.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered, "Derek, please."

  "Please what, Estelle?" he asked. His hand twisted around her thick mane, the way it had so many times before, and she steeled herself for the certainty of what was coming next. He chuckled. "Please fuck you one last time before I kill you?"

  A soft whimper escaped her as he gave a quick, snap of his wrist, and jerked her head back by the hair. Like a Neanderthal, he dragged her from the bathroom and the searing pain from her scalp caused her knees to buckle. She stumbled forward and he let go of her hair, kicking her hard in the ribs, the breath expelled noisily from her body. "Crawl on your hands and knees like the dog that you are, you ungrateful bitch," he growled.

  He reached down and grasped the hood of her sweatshirt, causing it to tighten around her throat, constricting her ability to breathe. She knew he wouldn't strangle her; he wasn't ready to finish her off just yet. Oh no, he intended to toy with her like a cat would a mouse. Her hands clawed frantically trying to loosen the chokehold he had on her. When the edges of her vision began to go dim, he released her. She gasped for air, coughing and struggling to replenish the oxygen in her starving lungs.

  He yanked her to her feet, and she brought her arms up protectively in front of her, cowering behind them. Suddenly, he slammed his fist so hard into the side of her face, and she swore she could hear the bones crunching. He fisted his hands in the front of her hoodie and forced her back against the wall. He smashed his fist repeatedly against her body. He threw her across the room, and she crumbled to the floor. He then proceeded to kick her, again and again until she wished she could just die.

  He dragged her toward the bed by her hair and shoved her down onto her back. "Take off your clothes, Estelle," he ordered.

  She could barely move, several ribs were broken, making breathing difficult, at best. Her eyes were quickly swelling shut, and a few of her teeth had been knocked loose, causing her to gag on the taste of her own blood. She lolled her head to the side and spat onto the bedspread and floor, earning her another hard slap across the face. "No," she whimpered.

  He leaned over her and undid her pants, and even though she struggled to keep her knees locked together, she was no match for him in her battered state. He forced them down around her ankles. She clenched her hands into fists and swung blindly, hoping to at least land one solid punch, earning her another crushing backhand across the mouth.

  He unzipped his jeans, and spit into his hands for lubrication. He roughly turned her onto her stomach and gripped her by the hips, his fingers digging into her tender flesh. He grunted loudly as he shoved his cock repeatedly into her, over and over until he surged forward one final time and shuddered with release.

  He pulled out, zipped up his pants, and went into the bathroom. He washed his hands and combed his fingers through his hair, leering triumphantly at his reflection in the mirror.

  On his way out, he kicked the bed where she lay, drifting in and out of consciousness. "That, my dear, is what you call a farewell fuck."

  He laughed at his own sadistic sense of humor as he strode out of the room. He closed the motel room door softly behind him before slipping away unobserved.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Shane walked over to the window and peered out into the early evening darkness. The streetlights blinked on, and his eyes shifted to the time on the microwave clock. He paced restlessly around the kitchen. "Come on, Chili Dog, let's go for a walk," he offered. Chili Dog ran for the front door and bounced up and down impatiently, waiting for Shane to attach the leash so they could go outside.

  Around the block they went, Chili Dog unaware of the worries stampeding through Shane's troubled mind, and the fresh wasn't helping him shake the niggling feeling that something was terribly wrong. He trudged up the front porch steps and went back to sit with Neona at the kitchen table.

  "Shane, why don't you bake a pie or something? Maybe it'll keep you occupied until Star gets home," Neona recommended.

  He heaved a heavy sigh and shook his head. "I'm too antsy to do much of anything at the moment," he admitted. He glanced at the time again and said, "She should've been here by now."

  Neona rubbed her arms, trying to ease the chill she felt, and nodded slowly. She didn't want to admit out loud what the warning bells inside of her were saying. She had a feeling that something bad had happened. But she was afraid if she gave voice to her foreboding, it would somehow make it real. So, she merely pulled her lips into a thin smile and said, "I'm sure everything will be fine."

  Shane peered over at her curiously. The way she avoided looking at him made him suspect that she was keeping something to herself, but he didn't call her on it. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. He was all too aware of how accurate his Aunt Neona's feelings were, and how her intuition was right on the money more often than not. He got up and took a soda from the refrigerator. "What time is Michael coming over?"

  "He gets off at eight tonight," Neona said. She stood and hobbled over to the kitchen sink to pour a glass of water. "He'll be here shortly after that, I expect."

  "I'm going to take a shower. I have to do something before I drive myself crazy," he mumbled.

  Once upstairs, he tried Star's number again before he undressed and stepped under the hot spray. He finished his shower and quickly dressed. He stopped rubbing his hair with the towel when he thought he heard Michael's voice downstairs.

  When he ran down the steps and into the kitchen, Neona held up her hand and shook her head at him, indicating to stop. Michael was on the phone with someone, and although Shane was only able to hear one side of the conversation, the parts he was able to hear caused his skin to crawl with fear.

  Michael wore a grave expression when he ended the call. He turned to Shane and said, "Son, you better sit down."

  "What? I don't want to sit down! Just tell me what the hell is going on!" Shane argued.

  Michael kneaded the tense muscles on his shoulders. He locked eyes with Shane and said, "Star was found in a motel room this afternoon, badly beaten. She was admitted to West Memphis Regional Hospital."

  Shane braced himself against the counter to keep from sinking to the tile floor. He felt his heart in his throat. "How bad?" he asked.

  "Her injuries are pretty severe, though they're not believed to be life-threatening," Michael said.

  "And the fucker who did this, they caught him, right?" Shane asked.

  "There weren't any witnesses, and the police are waiting for Star to regain consciousness so they can question her," said Michael.

  "Question her? What do you mean, 'question her'? You know as well as I do who did this to her!" Shane said.

  "That very well may be, Shane, but they can't just arrest Derek based on his prior track record and intent alone," Michael pointed out. He poured a cup of coffee and sat down. "She has an officer stationed outside her door, and just as soon as she wakes up, they'll question her and bring the sonofabitch in."

  "What if he takes off or something?" Shane argued.

  "He's not going to take off and even if he does, he won't get far," Michael said.

  Shane pulled his hair back into a ponytail and secured it with a rubber band from the kitchen junk drawer. "Aunt Neona..."

  "Yes, you can use the Jeep," she answered before he could even ask.

  "Son, why don't you wait until morning and then drive down? Get a good night's sleep first," Michael suggested.

  Sh
ane whirled around and gaped at Michael. "Are you crazy? Do you think there's any way in hell I'll be able to sleep tonight knowing Star isn't with me because some sick fuck beat the shit out of her? Yeah, not happening."

  Michael worried that as upset as Shane was, he might try to confront Derek. He pursed his lips and his eyes darted between Neona and Shane. Neona peered back through narrowed eyes, and Shane had his arms folded in front of his chest defiantly. It was clear Michael was outnumbered.

  "Never mind. Obviously, your mind's made up," Michael conceded. He scrawled a brief note on the back of his business card and handed it to Shane. "She's in the ICU. They might not allow you in to see her since you're not immediate family. How you get past the nurse's station is up to you, but this will help you get by the guard outside her door."

  "The Jeep is full of gas, but you'll more than likely have to fill it again before you get to West Memphis," Neona told him. She pointed to her purse sitting on the counter and told him, "Take my debit card."

  "I know I don't need to remind you to drive safe. Take your time and get there in one piece," Michael cautioned.

  "Michael's right, the last thing we need is for you both to be laid up in the hospital," Neona said. She opened her arms for a hug and kissed him on the cheek. "Remember, Shane, let the police take care of Derek. You just take care of Star and worry about getting her back here, where she belongs."

  "Stop worrying, you two. I'll try not to break any laws," Shane said.

  Michael quirked an eyebrow at him. "Try?"

  Shane rolled his eyes. "Fine. I won't break any traffic laws, and I won't get myself arrested for murder."

  By the time Shane headed to West Memphis, it was close to nine o'clock. He stopped somewhere south of St. Louis to fill the Jeep and stretch his legs. His bum knee had a tendency to lock up on him whenever he sat for too long. He used the restroom and got the biggest bottle of Mountain Dew he could buy to help keep him alert. Not that he thought falling asleep at the wheel would be a problem. His nerves were on sensory overload, and the dark thoughts filtering through his brain about what he'd like to do to Derek were not for the faint of heart.

  In the wee hours Tuesday morning, Shane parked in the hospital parking garage and took the elevator down to the main level.

  Shane wasn't about to let the fact that he wasn't immediate family keep him from seeing Star. He strode past the nurse's station with more confidence than he felt and approached the policeman stationed outside of her room.

  Shane extended his hand to the cop and said, "I'm Shane Harper. I'm here to see my wife." I could get used to saying that, he decided.

  The young officer eyed him skeptically. "I'll have to clear it with my superiors before I let you go in," he said.

  "My uncle is the sheriff of Pike County, Missouri," Shane told another white lie. He pulled out the business card Michael had given him and handed it to the cop. "He said to give this to you."

  Officer Carlisle read the business card, nodded at Shane, and stood aside to allow him entry into Star's room.

  Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw when he opened the door. She was completely unrecognizable. Her face was swollen and purple with tubes and lines everywhere. Machines beeped and hummed, monitoring her vitals.

  His Star. The sight of her bruised and battered body made him nearly retch. He swallowed hard, and felt the painful burn of tears stinging his eyes. He slid the chair closer to the hospital bed and sat down beside her. Gently, he took her hand in his, relief from reconnecting with her coursed through him.

  He rested his forehead on the blanket next to their entwined fingers and softly cried. "He'll pay for what he's done to you, Blue. I swear to you, he won't get away with this," Shane whispered.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Shane was asleep with his head on Star's bed when she regained consciousness early Tuesday morning. He would have crawled beneath the covers with her, just to feel her body heat against his, if he thought he could've gotten away with it. She was only able to see through one eye, and that was iffy, at best.

  His hand was still loosely folded around hers, and she gave him a faint squeeze to let him know she knew he was there. He sat up and blinked at her. Even with all the cuts and bruises, she was still the most amazingly beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He smiled at her.

  She wrinkled her nose and pointed at the tube in her mouth. Shane nodded, stood, and kissed her tenderly on her forehead. "I'll let the nurse know you're awake," he said quietly.

  He stepped outside the room and the uniformed officer, who had been sitting, stood when he came out.

  "She's awake," Shane said. "Are you going to question her?"

  "No, sir, I'll call it in, and they'll send over one of the detectives for that."

  Shane walked down to the nurse's station and found Star's attending nurse. "She's conscious," he said.

  She gave him a thin smile and said, "Why don't you go down and get yourself something from the cafeteria. Give us some time to get her situated."

  Shane begrudgingly agreed to go grab a cup of coffee while they further assessed her injuries. He shuffled down the empty hallway toward the bank of elevators.

  After several cups of coffee, Shane went back up to sit with Star. She looked at him through swollen eyes and wiggled her fingers in a half-hearted wave.

  "Did you talk to the detective yet?" he asked, sitting beside her.

  She nodded slowly. "Yes," she said. Her jaw had been broken and was wired shut, so it was difficult for her to talk.

  "I hope they're on their way to arrest the bastard right now," Shane said.

  "Me too," Star agreed.

  ***

  On the other side of town, Derek was in the middle of his afternoon coffee break at work when they came for him. He didn't resist arrest. He didn't even seem too concerned that he was being cuffed and taken away. He stood while they read him his rights and patiently cooperated as they led him away. He was held in the Crittenden County Jail.

  Wednesday morning, Derek was released on bond after agreeing not to leave Crittenden County. He was ordered to stay away from Star.

  Thursday morning, Derek closed the front door behind him on his way to work. An overnight winter storm had passed through the area, leaving the city buried under several inches of wet, heavy snow.

  Everything was eerily calm as he shoveled a path from the house to the street where his truck was parked. If there was anything out of the ordinary, he didn't notice, probably because of the massive quantity of alcohol he'd consumed the night before. The pain in his head felt like two ice picks were being driven into his eye sockets.

  Derek unlocked the pickup and leaned inside. He stuck the key in the ignition and cranked the engine to let it warm up while he finished shoveling the sidewalks. After he brushed the snow from the top of the vehicle and shoveled a path around it, he threw the snow shovel into the bed of the truck.

  He opened the driver's door and slid behind the steering wheel. He turned the heater up on high and flipped on the wipers to clear windshield. He glanced in the rearview mirror and pulled onto the street.

  As he moved away from the curb, so did another car. One block up the street, Sandy Crow made a right turn at the stop sign, switched on his headlights, and sped up. He'd planned to go over two blocks and then cut back, and make it to the four-way stop before Derek did.

  Driving was tricky since the snow was deep, and the plows hadn't yet been out to clear the side streets. As luck would have it, Sandy did get to the intersection first. The twin beams of Derek's headlights pierced the pre-dawn darkness as Sandy pulled his tank-sized Buick into the middle of the crossroads and put the car in park. Turning on the hazard flashers, he got out of his car and waited.

  Derek eased to a stop and frowned at the vehicle blocking the way. "What the fuck is this idiot doing just stopping in the middle of the intersection?" he muttered to himself. He put the truck in park and got out to see what the problem was. Sandy stuck his gloved
hand into his coat pocket, and waited for Derek to get closer.

  As soon as Derek realized who it was, he narrowed his eyes and growled, "You? What the hell are you doing here?"

  Sandy sneered and drew his gun. He fired two bullets point-blank: one in the middle of Derek's forehead, the other into his chest.

  As Derek fell dead to the snow covered street, Sandy said, "One bullet for Estelle. One bullet for Roxy."

  Sandy climbed back into his old beat-up Chevy and dialed nine-one-one on his cell phone. "You better come to the intersection of Grand and State Street," Sandy told the dispatcher. "There's been a shooting."

  Samuel "Sandy" Crow turned himself in for the murder of Derek Baldwin, just a few hours before Star was discharged from the hospital.

  It was over. Derek would never lay a hand on another woman again.

  One Year Later

  "Girl, you look a little green. Are you going to be sick?" Ami asked, pressing her hand against Star's forehead. "If you're going to throw up, you get to that bathroom right now. I don't think you want to walk down the aisle wearing a puke-covered wedding gown."

  Star slapped her hand over her mouth and made it as far as the trashcan in the church dressing room before heaving. Ami scrambled to her side, making sure her dress didn't get splattered.

  "I'm pretty sure I'm dying," Star groaned, breaking out in a cold sweat.

  "Nerves can do that to a person." Ami gave her friend a sympathetic smile. "Do you think you'll be okay now?"

  "It's not nerves. Ami," Star groaned and buried her face in her hands, "this is much worse than a case of wedding day jitters nerves."

  Ami's eyes went from narrow confusion to round with realization. "Oh, my God. You're pregnant?"

  Star rinsed her mouth out with some mouthwash and dabbed her lips carefully with a paper towel. "Yes."