[Sign Behind the Crime 01.0] Gemini

by Ronnie Allen

  He knew it was from the pain caused by his deep touch--the point of the therapy. “That’s all right, cry. Let it out.” After a minute of crying, he asked, “What’s coming to mind now?”

  “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here. But I have to. Stop you’re killing me!” She thrashed her legs and tried to wiggle herself free. “Ow, that hurts! Stop!”

  He moved out of the way to avoid getting kicked.

  She bounced violently up, trying to get out of his grip. Emotions flooded out of her with screaming, “Stop it, stop it! You fucking bastard!” She attempted to prop herself up on her elbows to get him to stop, but he prevented her, holding her down on the bed. She emitted real tears and then, after a moment, collapsed deeper into the bedding.

  John remained calm while struggling with her. “Nope. You’re not going anywhere.” As strong as she was, he was much stronger. “Where’s here?”

  “There, at Zodiac!”

  He got it. The name of the club. “Now why do you have to be at Zodiac?”

  She sobbed. Her armor weakened and buried emotions, whatever she had been repressing, poured out. “To get even.”

  “Get even with whom?”

  “Everyone!” Intense sobbing. “Everyone! Everyone who hurt me They all hurt me. Just like you! You’re hurting me. You’re all bastards. All men are bastards!” She remained inconsolable.

  “Who hurt you?”

  “All those men hurt me, all those men. Just like you,” she sobbed.

  “What men?”

  “The men when I was young, the men that hurt me.”

  “What did the men do?”

  She gasped for air. “They tied me up and beat me. They raped me.”

  “How old were you?”

  “I don’t remember. It kept on happening. Over and over and over.” Fatigue closed her down.

  John accepted that she’d had enough for this first session. He slowly removed his hands from her shoulders and lower neck, tapping the areas lightly.

  She turned over and immediately pounded on his chest. “What did you do to me?”

  He held her close. She sobbed into his chest and then it slowly decreased. She had a hard time breathing, gasping. He could tell all seven armors were blocked and he’d barely opened one.

  “You have so much anger, Barbara. You need to release it. Holding it in will just make you sick.”

  She calmed down and he gently laid her down on the pillow. She whimpered. “Breathe, Barbara, inhale fully and exhale fully. You have to do this. Come on, full breathing. I’m here with you. I’m staying with you. I’m not leaving you.” Drained, she listened. “Look at me,” he cajoled. “Come on, direct eye contact.”

  She couldn’t do it. She attempted but then looked away. She tried again but couldn’t focus on his eyes.

  “Barbara, follow my finger with your eyes but keep your head facing forward. Come on, follow my finger. Just move your eyes.” He moved his finger around, up, down, to the right, to the left. Barbara couldn’t do this simple exercise without moving her head. “Barbara, keep your head still, move just your eyes.” She still couldn’t do it on the second round. “Okay, now without moving your head, roll your eyes to look at the four corners of the room. Look to the upper left.” Couldn’t do it. “The upper right.” Couldn’t. “The lower left.” Couldn’t. “The lower right.” Couldn’t.

  Her head moved with her each time.

  She’d calmed down just a bit. “What’s wrong with me?”

  John sat on the bed, cupping her right hand in both of his to comfort her. “Well, we have seven armors in our body,” he explained calmly and compassionately. “Parts of the musculature that hold tension and traumas, and when they’re blocked, you can’t enjoy life to its fullest. And you’re pretty blocked. Your eyes aren’t moving freely and it’s called the ocular armor. And your neck and shoulders armor, the cervical armor, is blocked, too. I haven’t checked your others. But my guess is they’re blocked as well.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Well, our eyes see things, our life, our behavior. Our eyes hold our past. When the ocular armor is blocked, there are usually traumas in our life that we don’t want to resolve or that we’re hiding from. Unresolved traumas from our past impact our present-day lives. And the neck armor holds angers from the past. Does this resonate with you? What past traumas don’t you want to let go of? What angers?”

  “None.”

  “Not so, Barbara. That’s not the truth. Continue to breathe. Inhale deeply, exhale completely. Come on.” That she did. “Do you feel any energy flowing through your body? Heat? Cold? Tingling?”

  “No,” she whined.

  “That’s because you’re blocked. You’re blocking out pleasure, a painful past, blocking anyone from getting close to you. Do you remember anything you told me when you were sobbing, while I was pressing on your neck?”

  “Nothing. What did I say?”

  “You told me, now listen carefully. You told me you’re at Zodiac to get even with all of the men who hurt you, beat you, and raped you when you were young.”

  “I told you all that? Oh, my God!”

  “Come on, Barbara, stop. I know you remember what you said. So do you want to tell me about this?”

  “No, absolutely not.”

  “But did it all happen?”

  She cried softly, avoiding eye contact.

  “That tells me yes, and I know it did. Okay, well that’s why we have to do this. You’re not telling me anything to help you. Nurses are coming in to talk to you when I’m not here to do evals. You’re not answering any of their questions. You refuse to cooperate with the psychologists I sent in to do tests. Telling them nothing about your past. You won’t speak honestly. This work is painful. I’m not going to lie to you. But we have to do it. I’ll do anything within my power to get to the truth. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t do so much in one day. It may not even be appropriate, but I need answers now. I know there’s a lot you’re hiding. Whether you’ve been through traumas you’re still repressing, or you’ve done things in your past you don’t want discovered--”

  Her eyes shifted. Beads of perspiration trickled down her hairline to the base of her chin.

  He realized he’d hit on something. Now tell me, who’s Kellie Wilson?”

  “Who?”

  “Was that your name when you were a little girl?”

  She became more agitated.

  “Barbara, I listen to everything. Now tell me.” He had expected her to let it out when he stressed her. He had also expected her to deny everything she had said.

  “When did I say Kellie Wilson?”

  “When I had to restrain you for the blood tests. You called me Daddy and yelled I shouldn’t do this to you. I asked you what your name was and you told me Kellie Wilson.”

  “Oh, my God!” She jerked her hand out of his. “Dr. Trenton, I need a couple hours break. I’m so tired.” She turned her back on him.

  He pulled her back. “No, Barbara. You just want a couple of hours so you’ll have some time to fabricate a story you think I’ll believe. That’s not happening.”

  She removed the sheet. “I have to pee.”

  “Go ahead.”

  She disappeared into the bathroom, did her business, came out stark naked, and strutted over to him.

  John gazed at her dynamite body. “What’s this?”

  “You can’t deny you want me.”

  She positioned herself right up against his chest and tried to throw her arms around his neck but he grabbed her wrists to stop her. She jerked her hand out of his grip so she could try to unzip his pants, but he stopped her again. The only woman he wanted was his Vicki.

  “Not appropriate, get back into bed.” He led her there.

  “You coming in with me?” She lay down on the bed, protruding her breasts toward him. “I want your hands all over me.”

  “That you’ll have. Lay back.”

  He covered her with the sheet and bla
nket--no new gown to give her--and placed his hands on her solar plexus in her midriff area. “I just want to check your energy flow. Relax, this doesn’t hurt. It’s called Reiki, energy healing. Now I’m going to ask you a very personal question, Barbara. Very personal. It’s probably the most personal question you can ask a woman.”

  She bit her lip. He sighed.

  “I know I won’t get an honest answer from you, but your body will tell me.” She flung a you’re-damn-straight-you’re-not-getting-the-truth look. “When you orgasm, where do you feel it?” he asked.

  “Excuse me? What kind of a question is that to ask? You’re perverted!”

  “No, I’m not. Do you feel it near your pelvis?” His hand hovered about three inches above the blanket in her pelvic region. “By your navel?” He moved his hand to the sacral center keeping the same distance. “At the solar plexus? Or near your heart?” He moved his hand over her chest. “Do you feel it up to your throat or through the top of your head? Where do you feel it, Barbara?”

  She cried softly.

  “Do you feel the wonderful, intense ripple of sensations taking over your body from head to toes?”

  Her crying intensified.

  “No, you don’t, do you? You don’t feel anything.”

  She cried real tears.

  He clasped her hands in his. “Barbara, you’re missing out on wonderful, natural feelings with what you’re doing. Talk to me, tell me what you’re afraid of me finding out.”

  She broke down, minimally. “I had a horrible childhood and I still can’t deal with it.”

  “Tell me. I’m listening to you.”

  She feigned sobbing, more glycerin tears. “My mother gave me up at birth, and I was adopted. But my adoptive mother died when I was four, and my father shot himself in the head right in front of me six months later. I went from foster home to foster home, where the abuse in some was more than in others, and then at eighteen I aged out of the system. I was alone on the streets. I became a prostitute to get money to pay for college and support myself. I swore that I wanted to help children, so they wouldn’t have to endure the same pain I did.”

  “So is Kellie Wilson your birth name or your adopted name?”

  “It was my prostitute name. I don’t know my birth name. My adoptive parents named me Barbara and their surname was Montgomery.”

  This was only the partial truth, if at all. “You told me Kellie was your childhood name.”

  “I must have gotten confused.”

  “What state was this in?”

  “California, Los Angeles. It was the prostitution I didn’t want you to find out about. I could lose my license. Then everything I worked for will be for nothing.”

  He understood her story was just beginning. “Anything else?”

  “Don’t you think I had enough for today?”

  “No. We have that other issue. But yes. You did. We’ll take care of that another time.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Three Years Earlier:

  Exiting the restaurant, Vicki rushed off ahead of John, fighting tears and sniffling. She was in shock from his look that sent electrical waves of energy through her from head to toe. She didn’t know what to make of it, other than the fact that it was to chastise her.

  Silent tension filled the walk to his car, though it was a short one, just ten yards into the crowded parking lot.

  Should she just tell him to take her home and leave? Was her flirting with him a mistake? What was her infatuation with him all about? What was she thinking? This New York City doctor, would he settle for the likes of her, the county girl? Or did he just want to use her for his vacation thrill? He’d bruised her ego and it just brought up the more-than-painful memories from a failed and hurtful relationship that had damaged her self-esteem and made her swear off men. But that was years ago, fifteen to be exact.

  Now she was feeling different. At thirty-seven, she’d become desperate. Her biological clock ticked, and she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life alone. She needed warmth and comfort in a man’s arms.

  She needed him.

  Getting in, starting the car, driving out of the lot was done in silence. She fidgeted, staring out the window into pitch-blackness. When they reached the main road, he drove about five miles in the darkness, except for the high beams on his car, in nerve-racking silence. All that they heard as he maneuvered down a narrow county road was the low hum of the engine and the rustling of leaves from the huge trees lining the sides of the road swiping against the sides of the car. “Now tell me, what is the blushing all about?” he asked.

  She didn’t expect him to get right down to it after being silent for so long. “Excuse me?” She shot him a none-of-your-business glare. “Now you tell me, what was that look all about? The one that sent shivers down my spine?”

  “Good. It’s supposed to.”

  “What?” She couldn’t believe his punitive response.

  “Send shivers down your spine. It show’s you’re receptive and open to energy, plus you weren’t being forthcoming with me and I let you know that’s not acceptable.”

  “How in the world am I to respond to that? Do you take a parental role with all the women you date? Well, not with me, John. I’m not one you can control. I’ve been on my own since I was eighteen, and I do things on my own terms. And I only give out personal information when I’m good and ready.”

  “Really? First, I’m not acting parental at all. I just expect honesty.” He took his eyes off the road for a brief moment to look at her. “I will never be dishonest with you, ever, and I expect the same. What’s wrong with that? And second, if I can’t control you--control is actually the wrong word. I don’t do that to women, but whatever--you wouldn’t have had that reaction. You would have thrown the look back at me. Or given me a kick under the table or something to retaliate. Even tossed a rib at me, but something.”

  She laughed. “Throw a rib at you? Oh, so you like to fight?”

  “No. I like to play. I even like to argue, playfully. But I’ve got to admit you’ve got spunk. I like that. I really like that. In your own innocent way, you’ve got spunk.”

  “I can’t help the blushing. I’m kind of shy. I’m not used to your New York City manner.” He did a double take.

  “Your upfrontness.”

  “Well, you’re not shy. You have an answer for everything.”

  “I’m not shy in conversation, just in--” She paused to say it without embarrassing herself. “--in getting close to someone, in trusting. It’s the southern way.”

  “I don’t buy that for a second. But tell me more about that.”

  “Sorry, Doc, not in the mood for therapy right now. Been there. Done that. Turn left at this corner.”

  “Okay, for now.”

  She jumped out of the car before he shut the engine off. “Are you coming?”

  “Not yet, but I’m sure I can,” he said, shooting her a wicked grin.

  “What?” She caught on and laughed. “Oh my God, John!”

  He stayed in the driver’s seat with the window open. “Ah, you mean trusting as in...”

  She felt her stomach drop. He’d nailed it, but she didn’t expect him to be so blatant. Was he always going to be this open, and honest? Could she handle that?

  “You do realize that if I come in, you’ll most likely be facing those trusting issues, right?”

  “Yes, I do.” She had thought she was ready for this but, now, she wasn’t quite sure.

  “Okay. We’ll see.”

  ***

  They entered her modestly decorated, eclectic-style house. John headed straight out to the lanai. It was about thirty feet by thirty feet, enclosed with a screen canopy on top and on all sides, with doors on either side leading out to the yard. As soon as he entered, a large motion detector turned on lighting that illuminated the area. He looked around at the length and depth of the space and inhaled the fresh, cooling air. Wow, this was an awesome place to be right now.

  The lus
h plant life cleansed his aura and John basked in the intensity of the energy emanating from them. It was a sheltered cocoon just for the two of them. There were no other houses on either side of hers or in the front and back. She had the only isolated house in the woods, like in Little Red Riding Hood. It was just trimmed grass, in the yard outside the lanai, and lots and lots of trees. The Flowering Dogwoods, with white petals; acacia, with wide spreading leaves; red Florida maple, with thick dense trunks; weeping willows; and oaks, mixed in with palm trees, filled the woods behind the lanai. All he heard were the mating calls of the frogs, crickets, and birds.

  John relaxed as all the tension from his job left him under the starlit sky. The stars were visible and striking, not hidden by pollution. It was content and serene, and he realized he could get used to this.

  John took everything in. Vicki had huge plants on the lanai--a few stick or pencil plants that were so full and irregularly shaped and so tall they reached the ceiling of the lanai, just under ten feet. There were two large philodendrons in twenty-four inch pots. She had an oval table that seated eight, with other groups of chairs and smaller tables around the area. He appreciated her style.

  Vicki watched the family of deer that played in her yard. “Come here. You have to see this.”

  He encapsulated her in his muscular arms. With his physical and emotional strength, her back melded into his chest and, closing her eyes for a moment, she kept her swooning to herself.

  John felt the same way. She needed him as much as he needed her.

  “Look it’s a mommy, daddy, and baby,” she said.

  The deer pranced around in the back yard and just stopped to look at them, not at all fearful. John admired their agility at running and playing. They scampered off into the deeper woods after a couple of minutes, having enough of being observed.

  “Mommy, Daddy, and baby? How long have you taught kindergarten?” He gave her a tight squeeze and a tender kiss on her cheek, and then placed his on hers from behind.

  “Fifteen years.”

  “I think it’s about time you went up a few grades.” He pecked her cheek again to show her he wasn’t being critical of her, just teasing.