No, I am not going to think about that rotten Georgia peach-pit, she thought to herself as she curled up in the couch. Focusing on that southern tramp would just make her break out in hives again. This was her marriage, her husband, her life, and some brazened trollop was not going to take away what was hers. Elaine took a sip of the Hazelnut coffee and closed her eyes, forcing her thoughts to the present and not reminiscing on the past. He was there with her, which is all that really mattered.
She hoped the forecast would call for heavy snow so poor Eric could rest his tired body, more especially, his knees. She could tell from his pronounced limp yesterday that it was really bothering him. After Caitlin’s last sneak attack when she jumped up and tried to grab him around the neck, Elaine saw him wince in pain and knew that it was time to intervene, insisting that it was too cold outside for any more activity and that she needed help with preparing dinner.
She made sure the volume was turned down to mute while she searched the channels for the weather report, her heart beating a little faster than normal while her eyes bounced from the screen to the hallway, afraid she could be caught at any moment. She snickered like a little girl at that thought. She was doing everything she could to save her tenuous marriage, including stooping to the levels of hiding not only the television connector, but the cable that connected to their laptops so she could keep her husband in a state of oblivion about the goings-on of the outside world when he was the cheater! Elaine didn’t miss the irony.
The screens whizzed by in a blur until the words “Breaking News” stopped her, wondering what tragic event just occurred in the world that would probably make her cringe and change the channel but unable to flip stations before she found out just what the breaking news was.
The wind left her lungs in a huge huff, like someone had just kicked her in the stomach, accompanied by a wave of dizziness when she recognized the names and faces looming on the screen. Shock overrode her sense of stealth, and she involuntarily turned the volume up to listen as the familiar face of the local reporter from Channel 6 reported on the national news of the mysterious death of Olin, along with the deaths of Piper and Kevin. Elaine sucked in a ragged breath at the same time she tried to slurp a drink of coffee and began choking, her coughing spasms so loud that they woke Eric.
Elaine failed to hear or see Eric come down the hall while she sputtered and gagged, succeeding in only spilling the hot liquid all over her thick robe and onto the beautiful white rug under her feet. She leaned over to set the half-empty mug on the coffee table when she felt a presence behind her. Hoping it was one of the twins—it would be a lot easier to explain the “sudden resurrection” of the television—she cringed, expecting a verbal tirade, when she realized that it was Eric. Instead, Elaine was greeted not with the angry, red-faced man that could cuss a sailor to shame that she was used to, but one that was so pale it looked like a ghost just wandered through the halls of his mind. He didn’t yell, didn’t pose a question, and didn’t even acknowledge Elaine’s presence. An overwhelming sense of fear coursed through her, and she turned her head to follow his gaze to the screen, trying to cover up her spinning thoughts as her husband’s frame shook when Nicole’s name flashed across the screen.
“Eric, baby, I was just going to come get you before I choked on my coffee. Look, I got the television working this morning. Aren’t you proud of me?”
She realized that he wasn’t going to answer anytime soon when she saw Nicole Simmons’ name and picture splashed all over the screen. She swallowed the hard knot in her throat and turned her face back to Eric’s, praying in silence that this was a dream that she would wake up from any moment.
Eric’s eyes were glazed over in shock, his mouth slightly ajar. His emotions were like ticker tape on his forehead, displaying grief, anger and fear. But the one emotion that Elaine hoped she would never see again when attached to her was boldly emblazoned on it, flashing like a neon sign.
Love.
The newscast ended and Eric remained frozen behind the couch, unable to move while he processed the myriad of thoughts that raced through his head and across his face. Elaine rose from the couch and came up beside him, her hand trembling as she reached out to touch his shoulder. He stiffened and finally looked at her, his crystal blue eyes ablaze with fury, his words cold, calculated.
“Tell the girls I’m sorry, but they’ll have to enjoy the snow without me. I’m heading back to Phoenix. Alone.”
And just like that, Elaine knew her marriage was over.
TUESDAY
“GOOD MORNING, MR. RANCLIFF. You’re awake early this fine Tuesday morning!”
The effervescent Florence Nightengale chirped away while she checked my I.V. drip. Her bubbly personality was in a fierce competition with her thousand-watt smile for my attention while she leaned over the bed to check my bandages. Her hair smelled like fragrant lilacs and her gentle fingers, while strong, were smooth and faintly scented like spring. Everything about her screamed comfort and kindness, yet the happiest thought I could bring forth was the image of me knocking that vibrant smile off her face with my cast-encrusted arm.
“Looks like someone’s in need of some pain relief,” she said, mistaking the irritation on my face for pain.
“No, I’m good. What I want is some peace and quiet,” I snarled.
Oblivious to my rude response, she continued to flit about the room like a little fairy hopped up on steroids, chattering away about how quick I was healing and that the doctor would be in around nine when his rounds began. I tuned her mindless banter out and forced my lips to remain closed before I ended up screaming like a wild banshee at her to get out. I gritted my teeth harder than I should have, causing my jaw to pop loudly, followed by me yelping in pain.
“Oh, Mr. Rancliff. See, I knew you were hurting. Now, quit trying to be a stoic male and let me do my job.”
Before I could concentrate on forming words that were more than four letters, she began pushing the pain meds through my I.V.
“There now, you’ll feel much better in a few minutes. Here,” she said, pushing the “on” button to the television after she placed the remote in my hand. “Just focus on the noise for a few moments and then poof, you’ll be snoozing.”
I snapped, “Get out!”
Her chipper mood, which I suspected had been just a greatly acted facade, disappeared at my raised voice, her eyes narrowing while she curtly nodded her head and fled my room, dangerously close to running.
Thank God.
The last thing I wanted was company, especially if that company brought me some drug that would force me to sleep. I preferred being awake and in pain because my attention to the numerous aches would be front and center in my thoughts, which was a welcome reprieve from the gut-wrenching nightmares brought on from the drugs. Piper’s face hounded my dreams, filling my head with her screams of pain and agony and taunting me with “Where were you, Nick? Why didn’t you save me sooner? Liar, liar, liar….”
How drug addicts coped with the loss of control over not only their bodies but also their minds was completely beyond me and something I wanted no part of. I wanted to be awake and sober and to bury those thoughts right next to Olin’s rotting carcass.
Fighting hard to block the effects of the medication that was insistent upon putting me to sleep, I forced my attention to the television set that was in the corner. It took me a few seconds to glom onto the controller and figure out which button controlled the volume and channels, but finally, I managed to turn the sound up. I needed to find some show that would help hold my attention rather than aide in lulling me to sleep.
Lucky me, I found the news, which was blaring on every single major station about the “shocking” turn of events surrounding the circumstances of the rise and fall of Olin Kemper and the mighty downfall of Winscott & Associates. Like the proverbial moth, I was drawn to the screen and watched, my swollen, sore face unable to stop the grin that spread across it. Yeah, I did that.
I felt
the drugs begin to kick in, my skin crawling with little shards of light pinpricks. The break in my mind happened next, that interim feeling of total openness while the drugs soaked their ways through each neuron, opening up the walls of true emotions that I kept at bay while awake. The newscaster’s voice was fading, replaced by the bittersweet sounds of Piper’s laughter dancing around in my mind, followed by the muffled wails of Olin’s dying screams from the grave.
My eyelids were becoming heavy, and I didn’t seem to have the muscle coordination or control to keep them open. My body began to meld into the hospital bed, and I heard the voice of Olin pierce the haze, his voice gravelly and low.
“You are no better than me.”
Yes, as an attorney that broke every rule I was bound to uphold, I should be conflicted with remorse. I should feel some sense of moral reprehension for what I did to him, but as it turned out, I didn’t. He was a maniac—a social leech that sucked the life out of everything and everyone he touched. A murderous fiend that stopped at nothing to get what he wanted—one that crossed the line in my world by destroying my Piper.
“Olin, you bastard, I am much better than you! I didn’t kill a victim; I slew a monster—you.” I laughed at that, not sure if I spoke the words out loud or not, hoping that I didn’t because Nurse Goodie-Goodie might still be lurking about and overhear my opiate-derived ramblings. That would really make her run, straight to the nearest cop with some very scathing news about her latest patient.
The drugs were working their magic, opening up my mind to a collage of images and painful truths. I couldn’t feel the broken bones and bruises any longer but still felt the heaviness sitting atop my chest that no prescription medication would ever remove. The tears pooled up in my eyes and dripped down onto the rough pillow. Piper’s demented eyes stared back at me in my mind, piercing through the medically induced fog. I felt her stare of agony and shock burn through me when the next image came forth—the day she caught me with my assistant. My God, I think the crack in her psyche formed that day. Her descent into dementia I started and Olin just kicked her over the edge into the dark abyss of sheer madness.
Seemed fitting almost that since I was the one that opened the door to her lunacy, I at least offered a bit of payback to the one that turned her into a monster.
My last conscious thoughts were that it was a strange feeling knowing I killed someone, yet I felt an odd mix of pride and satisfaction at doing so. I also knew I should feel some guilt over the injuries that the poor cop that was driving sustained and the fact that Roger was dead, but I didn’t. When I inquired earlier to the nursing staff about the officer, I was informed that he was recovering well from his concussion and broken nose and would be released soon from the hospital and back at work in no time. That eased some of my minimal guilt.
What happened to them was not part of my original plan with Trevor and Frankie; it just worked out that way. The cop’s wounds would heal, and, well, Roger was just collateral damage. He was a pompous ass anyway, and would the world really be any worse off with one less lawyer?
Oh shit, did thinking that way just put me into Olin’s category of a murdering monster? No, no, what I did was for love, not for hate or anger, or whatever fucked-up reason that demented bastard came up with in his evil head. This was a war. I didn’t start the battle, but I sure as hell finished the skirmish. And in war, aren’t there always casualties?
The cosmos would forgive me, wouldn’t it? After all, I restored some balance to it by removing a cancer, didn’t I?
God, I hoped so.
I NEEDED MY PHONE. For the first time in years, it wasn’t right by my side. My trusted friend that never failed me (except when the battery conked out) was my lifeline to the outside world. It was no longer there for me to reach out and solve my problems with the touch of a button and the panic inside of me quickly rose.
I realized that relying upon it for everything was not such a great idea since I couldn’t remember any phone numbers or contacts. I recalled cringing on the inside just a bit when Kevin smashed it to smithereens at Audra’s house, the look on his face so triumphant, thinking he had won.
Stupid fucker. Bet he didn’t like having his brains bashed in. Too bad I didn’t get to properly thank him for plotting to kill me. Well, who won that battle you wimpy bastard?
My feet were tired from all the pacing back and forth on the hard tile floor. I needed to come up with a plausible plan to get into Audra’s room alone so I could finish what I started. Damn, I used to be a better shot!
Hopes I had on Monday morning when she coded that her life was over were crushed when the paddles worked and yanked her meager frame back from death’s door. It was kind of fun watching her body jolt from the bed when the doctors juiced her up. For such a miniscule mite, that girl was like fucking herpes: nothing could kill her. Maybe I needed a flamethrower or battery acid. Perhaps a nuclear warhead.
“Ms. Simmons, I have your release forms ready so we can get you out of here.”
I was still standing by the window looking out into the teeming streets of Summerset when the voice behind me brought me out of my panicked planning phase. It was the same nurse that woke me up from the wonderful dream of retribution earlier. Oh great, another visit from one of the idiotic staff members who wasn’t qualified to work outside of a janitorial supply store. Conversing with those morons was enough to actually lower IQ levels.
“Just set them on my stand, if you don’t mind dear. I will get to them after I finish praying for Audra’s speedy recovery.” Wow, one more whopper like that and I will spontaneously self-destruct!
Falling for the faked concern in my voice, she nodded her head in silent agreement, her shoes making that strange squish squash, squish squash noise as she stepped into the room and set the forms down. I must have really sold my act because she turned and quickly left the room, closing the door behind her. A smile lurked around the edge of my mouth, thinking about how easily a few words elongated in a sweet, southern drawl made things so much simpler in life.
I walked back over to the edge of the bed and sat down while I examined my bandages. The backwoods doctor did a decent job of closing the wounds on my legs and my arms, but I knew that the deep gashes were going to leave some nasty scars. And the knot on the back of my head from Kevin’s fist still hurt like hell. That knot would heal, but the scars would be a daily reminder for me that I should have listened to my father’s warnings from long before about trusting others to perform a task that I was more than capable of handling.
I stood up and began pacing again. There were so many things to think about! First and foremost, I had to get out of this room and this town. I needed to be at home where I could think with a clear head. No purse, no money, no phone, and no car were not adding up to anything positive. Being in such close proximity to the woman that I detested with such ferocity was clouding my ability to think clearly. When I was in her room yesterday and watched her convulse like a fish flopping on a river bank, I wanted to run in there and choke her with my own hands, snuffing the light from her eyes forever. It took some fast talking and fake tears to convince Steve that my ire stemmed from what Piper did to her—the unfairness of what the poor dear had suffered from at the hands of such evil people.
What a fucking joke.
Nope, Piper and Kevin’s colossal screw up was what caused my blood to boil. I was also a bit peeved at myself for being fooled into thinking that Audra and I were actually meeting with Jeannette Lancaster as well. I let the lure of that cash cow cloud my thoughts, which was a mistake I would kick myself over for a very long time. My diligent monitoring of their plans led me to believe that Kevin was supposed to snatch Audra around 10: 00 p.m. that night, after her meeting with Jeanette. That is why I made sure that her car was disabled and she would be trapped, a waiting mouse in the con. I could have been just like everyone else that heard the tragic news of the death of poor Audra then faked my own death as I had planned all along. All the preparations were al
ready in place, I just needed to execute them. My plane ticket that I purchased weeks before was scheduled to depart on Thursday although I doubted I could use it.
At first, I gave serious thought to offing the bitch myself. She not only ruined my own plans that I had brewing for Olin, Eric, and the firm, but she publically humiliated me, at least in front of my coworkers. No one insults me like that and gets away with it. Period.
She thought, through careful acting on my part, that I was shocked by Eric’s betrayal with that red-headed vixen, but the truth was, I already knew. I had found out quite by accident months before, when the one night I neglected to bring my laptop to our little love nest forced me to use Eric’s to finish up a report I was working on while he slept. The closing papers on the condo came through late that night, and it was just by sheer accident that I happened to have his email open. When I read it, I didn’t think too much about it, since Eric seemed to constantly be buying or selling property, but the email was followed moments later from “Rachel the Redhead” and rambled on about how excited she was, what she was going to do to him the next time they met, etc. I sat there in the quiet darkness of our little apartment and felt something snap inside of me.
I decided then that I would take matters into my own hands and destroy the two men that had hurt me almost as much as my first husband. My plan to ruin Eric’s reputation with the other partners and expose Olin for the callous fuck that he really was formed that night. I sat in the darkened room and stewed about how I would bring the thoughts to fruition, finally deciding to use Eric’s computer against him. I may have loved him, but there are limits to that love, and he just surpassed them. I swore an oath to myself in my past life that no man would ever take advantage of me again, and I meant it.
Eviscerating the Snake - The Complete Trilogy Page 40