by Keri Lake
“It’s true. I … I came here to tell Jackson … you, I changed my mind.”
“Bullshit! You came here to fuck a kid! Admit it, you piece of shit!”
“No! It’s true. I was … I know what it’s like. I know how it feels. I was … I was hurt by someone, too. As a child. It’s wrong. I know it’s wrong!”
“Yeah? So ,why the fuck would you turn around and do it to someone else? Doesn’t add up, fucktard.”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to be like this. I would never hurt a child, please. I give you my word.”
“You know what your word means to me? Dick. Your word means dick to me.” I racked the chamber of the gun and pressed it into the top of his head. A pool of wetness circled out from beneath him, spreading wider by the second, as he pissed himself.
Adrenaline pulsed through my veins in taunting waves, begging me to pull the trigger. After all, he’d groomed me for weeks. Telling me how cute I was in the pictures. How much he loved talking to me.
“I’m begging you. Give me a chance. I will not touch a child so long as I live.”
I didn’t want to give him a chance. I wanted mete out justice for every kid who’d act as a temptation for him throughout life. I wanted him to fight me on it, too. To defend his actions and give me a piss poor excuse for why he did it. Tell me he was wrong for taking me somewhere and bastardizing my innocence. Tell me he’d keep it a secret, so long as I could. That if my friends and family found out what he did to me, they’d call me gay and claim that I liked it.
Instead, he kept his head down whispering apologies.
I’d lost it. Fucking lost my mind. Spiraling into a black hole.
I needed my Nicoleta. Every day without her was hell, every night a battle of wills between my body and my brain.
I needed her. Was fucking lost—a man without purpose, which made me twice as dangerous as before I’d ever laid eyes on her.
I lifted the gun from his head and rubbed a hand down my damp face. Middle of autumn, and I stood there sweating like a pig. “I ever see your ugly face again and I swear to you, I will blow it off your skull. Clear?”
“Clear. Clear, I swear to you. You won’t see my face again.” He lifted his gaze to mine, hands clasped together. “Thank you. Thank you for this. I won’t forget. I promise you.” Scrambling backward, he tripped and stumbled his way to the silver Audi, and I stood there, watching him drive away.
Maybe he’d keep his promise. Maybe he’d learned a lesson, just like that therapist had once told me, and I’d never stumble upon the asshole again.
Maybe he wouldn’t, though, and I might’ve just thrown away the opportunity to save some poor kid’s life.
Did it matter? Did any of it matter?
I couldn’t even save myself.
I stared down at the two green pills in the palm of my hand. My one-way ticket to hell. Was inevitable I’d end up back in the same place. I knew the moment I’d pulled her out of that shithole storage unit, I’d never want to let her go, so how did that make me any different from the men who’d kept her physically chained? Like the asshole I’d almost killed earlier in the night.
All of us victims preying on victims.
I’d told myself I’d fallen in love with her, but maybe that was the case with all predators. Flirting with tragedy. The wolf who fell in love with the lamb.
It had been her choice to leave, and no matter how much it killed me, I had to respect that. Had to back down and let her live her life—freely.
I raised my hand to pop the pills, but, at the rattle of my phone, paused midway to my mouth.
The number flashing on the screen didn’t look familiar, and I frowned, staring down at it. Setting the pills onto the nightstand, I traded them for the phone and answered.
“Detective Wolfe, it’s Dawn Richardson. You met with me a couple weeks back.”
‘The hell?
I cleared my throat and sat up on the bed. “Yeah, yeah, I remember you. How are you?”
“You left me your number in the event I remembered anything else, and … well. It’s not something I remembered. More something I wasn’t completely truthful about.”
“’S’okay, it’s, uh … all water under the bridge now. We got our man.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I just thought … I’d pass along something else. In the event you find it useful.”
What the hell could it hurt at that point? I’d reached rock bottom. Nicoleta was gone, and so was my mind. “Sure. Go ahead.”
“You asked me who commissioned that video. I lied to you when I said I didn’t know. For years, I suffered anxiety attacks, and when I started college, with all the pressure and expectations, they became somewhat overwhelming.”
I had no idea where the hell she was going with her story, but as I spun the green pills against the table, I kept listening, hoping it would all come to light.
“I failed one of my classes, and my father withdrew my funds. I’m ashamed to say, I responded rather impulsively and stupidly by trying to overdose on my medication, which landed me in the psych ward under the care of Doctor Michael Emberle.”
The blood in my veins turned cold. Ice fucking cold.
I nabbed the second burner from the drawer beside me and put Dawn on speakerphone, recording her every word.
“Doctor Emberle seemed nice and helpful at first, but at some point, our sessions took a … strange turn. He insisted on meeting me more than usual, and … our sessions became sexual escapades. I was young and somewhat naïve at the time, so when he approached me about a secret fetish he had, it … well, it was strange, of course, but he offered to pay for my entire schooling. Two hundred fifty thousand dollars. All I had to do was agree to let two men have sex with me on camera. Make it appear that I was being raped. So I did. I thought it was for him. I didn’t think it’d land on some website, or be doctored with the murder of some young woman. At the end, he asked me to make a statement. That I was fine throughout the filming and that I’d volunteered to do it.”
Motherfucker. I knew there was something about the shady bastard that had my skin crawling the moment I’d set foot in his office.
“Two weeks ago, he showed up at my office,” Dawn continued. “He told me it’d leaked again. He warned me not to say anything to anyone about it. I need for this to go away. Do you understand?”
“I do. I’ll follow up on Doctor Emberle. I promise to do what I can to keep this video from circulating.”
“Thank you, Detective. I’m sorry I lied.”
I clicked off the recorder and bit back the urge to break into that fucking hospital and strangle Doctor Emberle with my bare hands. “I’m sorry I lied, too. I’m not a detective.”
“I know.” The phone clicked with the end of the call, and I set it back on the nightstand.
Would be a long night ahead of me. A few calls to make over the next few hours.
Because first thing in the morning, I planned to pay Doctor Emberle a visit.
40
Nicoleta
My mind was a broken clock whose hands spun out of control. The pills made me quiet. The pale, blue walls made me calm—a gift from Doctor Emberle, as the nurse who’d wheeled me in had informed me, between bouts of sedation. Leather restraints had become something of an accessory for me, as they strapped me to the bed that lay smack in the middle of the room, with only one chair, upon which Doctor Emberle had often enjoyed watching me squirm and struggle in my binds.
I chuckled at the thought of leaving the place, wearing the cuffs like bracelets, along with the fancy white gown that showed my pantiless ass from behind. A fashion statement for women who’d gotten the shitty end of the stick.
Three days, and I’d already been poked and prodded, drugged and restrained. I’d been placed in solitary for special monitoring for my extreme behavioral issues and occasional fits. Whatever drugs they’d given me kept me in a semi-lucid state—awake, but not really giving a shit about anything. I felt trapped inside a
body too weak to move.
The door clicked, but failed to peel my attention from the swirls of paint on the wall, as I imagined the painter twisting his wrist with every stroke of the brush. It somehow reminded me of Dax, though my memories seemed choppy. Faint. As if I’d begun to forget him.
“Lethe and Menosyne,” I whispered.
“Ah, you remembered.”
I dragged my attention to the left, where Doctor Emberle sat in the chair beside the bed.
“I read you that story during one of our sessions. I always found it a fascinating dynamic, the way some patients preferred one over the other.” He sat back, crossing his legs. “Tell me, Eden, with all you’ve experienced these last few weeks, which would you choose? To forget? Or to remember everything?”
Perhaps it was his question that sprung an image of Dax’s handsome face to mind, so vivid and clear, the visual brought tears to my eyes. He was shrapnel in my heart, potent venom still pulsing through my blood. “To remember everything.”
“We’re such emotional creatures, aren’t we?” He pushed up from the chair and came to a stand at the end of the bed, gripping the bars below my feet. “When we want something bad enough, we’re willing to suffer so much pain. Pain we couldn’t otherwise bear. Like a mother suffering the birth of a child. Or a doctor, mourning the disappearance of his favorite patient.” His finger trailed up my leg, leaving a phantom sensation that failed to draw anything more than disgust. “Do you have any idea what I went through? The danger I put myself in just to find you?”
“You’re sick.”
“That seems to be what most of the men you’ve fucked have in common.” His hand drifted higher, drawing my gown up my thighs. Didn’t matter if I fought him, or screamed. He’d undoubtedly had the nursing staff turn off the cameras in the room. “You leave behind a trail of obsessed men. Why do you think that is, Eden?”
Instead of answering, I fought to ignore the feel of his hands massaging the inner part of my thigh, far too close to that forbidden place he’d always taken joy in touching.
Hand still between my legs, he walked around to the side of the bed. “You’re so strong, but vulnerable at the same time. You make us want to care for you and break you. It’s maddening, really.” He leaned forward, as if to kiss me, and I turned my head away from him, feeling his hot breath against my neck.
“Go fuck yourself.”
“You need a bit more time. I understand. You’ll come around soon. You always do. We’ll pick up our sessions once you’re feeling … compliant.” A light pat to my thigh, and I felt the gown slide back down my leg. “We have all the time in the world now.”
With tears in my eyes, I kept my gaze turned from his and listened to his footsteps signaling his retreat.
“I hope you like the blue walls, love” he said, and at the click of the door, I let the tears escape.
41
Dax
Striding up to the hospital, I pulled the cigarette from between my lips and flicked the butt onto the sidewalk. One of two things was about to go down before the end of the meeting: I’d be taken away and locked up in the bowels of the hellhole hospital for throttling a doctor to death, or Doctor Emberle and I would come to an understanding.
Either outcome had my nerves rattled to shit, as I strode past the receptionist at the front desk.
“Sir? What’s your name? I’m afraid you can’t go back there!”
“I’ve got a meeting with Doctor Emberle. Under the name Wolfe,” I answered, keeping on toward the elevators.
“Yes, I see that Mister Wolfe, but you can’t just …” Her voice faded with the closing of the elevator doors, and I pressed the button for the third floor, where I’d gone the last time I’d paid the shithead a visit.
I chuckled at the thought of what I must’ve looked like to her. Probably like a disgruntled ex-patient coming to shoot up the place, in my black leather jacket and dark jeans, with a gun she couldn’t see strapped to my hip. Hell, I could’ve been. Depended on what the asshole had to say.
If Nicoleta, or Eden as it were, happened to be holed up in the place, no way he’d tell me outright. I’d have to get crafty with my words and keep one step ahead of the head-shrinking little cocksucker.
The doors opened onto offices, and I barreled forward like a freight train, toward the door with his name across it. Didn’t even knock as I entered.
“Mister Wolfe. How nice to see you again.” He didn’t seem surprised to see me at all, actually. Bitch must’ve alerted him that I was on my way up. “You said you had some important information for me. Please.” He gestured toward the chairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”
I was already on my way there.
With visions of hauling his ass through that big window behind him, I sat down in the chair. “She came back.”
“I’m sorry?”
“She came back. You asked me to get in touch when she came back.”
His slow nod turned into a frown. “I see. Is … is that the news you came to tell me?”
Asshole wouldn’t have let me up if I’d told him anything else. “Yeah. I came to make you a deal. You give me the original recording of the video with Dawn, and I’ll return her to you.”
His brows winged up, and the insincerity on his face flipped my warning flags off. “That’s … quite a trade off. The video, for Nicoleta. I, um … I guess I was under the impression she meant more to you than that.”
“You were under the wrong impression.”
“Well, I’m afraid I can’t …. I can’t do that, Mister Wolfe.” He stood up from his chair, tapping his fingers on the desk as he rounded it. “See, I already have Nicoleta. So, I’m afraid your information is useless to me at this point. I’m gonna have to ask you to leave before I call security.”
Bingo.
“Call them. I’m sure they’d love to hear what I’m about to show you.” I clicked on the recording of Dawn’s confession from the night before, watching his face sour—with surprise and a small bit of shock, at a guess.
“Doesn’t prove anything. Could be anyone.”
“Maybe not. But I had some friends of mine do some digging around, and they came back with a username: Voyeur-two-ICU. Linked back to your fucking email.” I laughed, stuffing the phone back into my coat pocket and clicking the record button to on. “Fucking amateur. Christ, every good criminal knows not to link an email.”
His face turned ghost white, and I watched his neck bob with a swallow. “What do you want?”
“You commissioned the video for Eden O’Malley. Didn’t you, Doctor Emberle?”
He shook his finger at me and crossed his arms. “I didn’t commission the attempted murder. That was not me.”
“Answer the question.”
“Yes. Okay? Is that what you want from me? Are we done here?”
“Nah, we’re just getting started. See, I sent that recording to some of the best hackers in the world. And, uh …” I tugged my phone out of my pocket once more and clicked ‘send’. “Now they have your confession to go along with it.”
He flinched and rolled his shoulders. “You’re quite slick, aren’t you?”
I shrugged, stuffing the phone back into my pocket. “It’s a gift, really. Although, for a doctor, you’re not that smart.”
“What. Do. You. Want?”
Straightening in my chair, I gripped the arms of it like a king taking his throne. “I want you to release Eden and wipe out her medical record. I want you to destroy the videos for Dawn Richardson, as well as Eden’s. And if you’re a good little bitch, I’ll tell my friends not to beat you up after school. Deal?”
“What guarantee do I have?”
“No guarantee, I’m afraid. But your odds are significantly improved if you do what the fuck I tell you. Your alternative isn’t as clean.”
The flinch of his eye seemed to be a nervous tick. “Is that a threat?”
“It’s whatever the fuck will get your happy ass on that phone and have h
er released from this shithole.”
A mirthless smile flashed across his face, but quickly disappeared as he leaned forward in his chair. “I have to say … well played. I had no idea you were so … manipulative.”
“Cunning. I prefer cunning. Has a better ring to it. And I didn’t know you were such a sick and pathetic piece of shit, either, but here we are.”
Chin high, as if he had any right to be proud, he lifted the phone and dialed a number. Could’ve been security. I was ready for that, too.
“This is Doctor Emberle. I need to call in a voice order for Eden O’Malley. Thank you.” He kept his eyes on me in the pause that followed. “Is this the nurse for Eden O’Malley? I need to have her ready for discharge within the next ten minutes. Have transport wheel her down to the front entrance for pick up. I’ll be there to sign all the necessary papers. Thank you.”
As soon as he set down the phone, I tipped my head until his eyes returned to mine. “Wasn’t that easy?”
“What now?”
“Her record. Trash it.”
He turned to a file cabinet, thumbing through them, and lifted one of the folders from inside, which he held up for me to see her name printed on the white label. Into the shredder beside the cabinet, he fed each of the papers from the file, then opened it, showing that it had been emptied.
“And the video of Dawn Richardson.”
“I don’t keep digital copies. They’re traceable.” He shuffled across the room to a safe, dialed the numbers, and opened it to reveal a stack of encased DVD’s inside. The sight of them coiled my stomach—about a half dozen videos of different girls, I guessed.
“All of them. I want all those fuckers destroyed.”
“These girls agreed to do this, Mister Wolfe. They gave their consent.”
“Except Eden. Why is that?”
Jaw shifting, he sniffed. “She was a girl from the trailer park. Been abused her whole life. Probably wouldn’t—”
I pushed up from the chair, and before he could finish his sentence, I hammered my fist in his face, knocking his glasses onto the floor.