Tears streamed through the blood on Roth’s cheeks. “Did you…?”
“Kill them? Not really.” When Michael noticed Roth’s body relax, he added, “With the exception of Westly, the coyotes did that for me.”
The man’s prone body tensed. “Why? What did we do to you?”
Michael hit PLAY on the DVD remote. “Watch.”
The home movie began with Eliza in her pretty purple dress, and as it moved forward through the years, he glanced at Roth. His bloodied face contorted in confusion, then with realization as the final still shot of Eliza appeared on the screen.
“Any of this making any sense, Doctor?”
“Yes,” he hissed as more tears streaked his face. “I remember you now. And I remember your daughter. She came to us, and we did what she asked.”
“Right.” Michael nodded. “She asked you and your doctor buddies to scar her body.”
Wincing when he raised his head, Roth said, “She still looked good enough.”
Arching a brow, Michael blew out a deep sigh. “Good enough,” he repeated. “There was nothing wrong with her in the first place. Do you agree?” He waved the hunting knife. “And I suggest you tell me the truth.”
“I…I think the rhinoplasty enhanced her face.”
“And the other surgeries?”
Roth glared at him, then glanced away. “No.”
“No? Interesting.” He set the knife on the workbench. “Personally, I think you’re full of shit and are trying to save your sorry ass. Look at my daughter.” He pointed to the TV screen. “You know damn well you screwed up her nose when you were trying to enhance her face. You tried to narrow the tip, and removed too much cartilage. Her nose began to collapse, and her nostrils become distorted.”
“She still didn’t look that bad,” Roth, the arrogant prick, argued. “And I told her I could fix it.”
“In a year, and for more money,” Michael said with disgust. “You, Elliot, Westly, and Tully are all nothing but a bunch of egotistical blood suckers. You preyed on my daughter, on her money and insecurities, just like you’d preyed on other young women.”
“That’s not true,” Roth whined. “We were only trying to help women appreciate their faces and bodies.”
“Is that why you gave Westly a nice bonus each time he sent you a new patient?”
“A referral fee, that’s all that was, and there’s nothing illegal about it.”
“No, not illegal, but immoral. I’ve researched some of your clients, the young women who endured the same botched-up surgeries as my daughter. Some of those girls still need psychiatric help, while others had to endure multiple surgeries to fix what you bastards had done to them.”
“Immoral? Who are you to judge what’s immoral? Look what you’re doing to me, what you’ve done to my colleagues.”
Roth’s impertinence, over what he and the others had done, and the way he dared to accuse and judge, spiked Michael’s temper. He gripped Roth’s broken nose, and squeezed. “Don’t you dare scream. Don’t even utter another word.”
The man winced and opened his mouth.
Michael squeezed harder. “Not a word.”
Roth nodded, but Michael didn’t release him. Of all the men, he wanted Roth to suffer the most. While the other surgeries had been bad, Roth’s had been the worst. At least Eliza could cover the disfiguring lumps and scars on her body with clothes. But she couldn’t cover her nose.
And although the botched surgeries could have been fixed eventually, the doctors at Med Spa, specifically the lead doctor, Victor Roth, had expected Eliza to pay for them. She’d seen an attorney, but the contract she signed with the doctors had stated, in much more eloquent and bullshit legal jargon, that basically all sales were final. If only her stupid bitch of a mother had paid better attention to the contract Eliza had signed. Instead, she’d kept her head in the clouds. She’d looked at dollar signs rather than consider her daughter’s health. Sarah had been convinced these surgeries would take Eliza to the necessary level of perfection, and would lead to a multimillion dollar modeling career. Because of Sarah’s selfish stupidity, and Roth and his colleagues’ greed, Eliza was dead.
Michael released Roth’s nose. After wiping Roth’s blood on the man’s shirt, he walked to the video recorder, angled the camera in order to have Roth’s face in the frame, then pressed RECORD. “I want you to tell me everything,” he said. “I know you spearheaded the surgical group, Cosmetic Solutions and Med Spa. Now tell me how you ended up putting Westly on the payroll.”
The defiant son of a bitch remained mute. With a shrug, Michael slipped on the surgical mask and cap. For this occasion, he didn’t bother to draw a mouth on the mask. Instead, he created a large pig’s snout in honor of the pig about to experience the butchery of plastic surgery.
“Nothing to say?” Michael asked as he picked up the scalpel from the workbench, and then waved it in Roth’s face.
Weary, and emotionally drained, Michael had lost the desire to drag out Roth’s torture, but for Eliza, he’d endure. Pinching the bridge of Roth’s nose, he pressed the tip of the scalpel against the man’s swollen nostril.
“Wait,” Roth shouted. “Please wait. I’ll talk.”
Michael took a step back.
“It’s true,” Roth blurted. “I met Elliot and Tully at our country club, and together we formed Med Spa. Business hadn’t been that great. About a year after we opened, Elliot brought Westly to the club to play golf. Elliot and Westly had gone to college together and had been in the same fraternity. When I found out Westly was a dentist, I started asking him about his clients. When I found out how many of his patients were going to him for veneers, I…I started thinking that if those people were willing to shell out that kind of cash for their teeth, maybe some of them might be interested in fixing other parts of their face and body.”
He drew in a deep breath through his mouth, then looked away.
“And?” Michael prompted.
“And I suggested he talk up Med Spa. If he sent a patient to us, they’d get a ten percent discount on their procedure, and Westly would get a bonus from us.”
“Those patients really didn’t get any discounts, did they?”
“No, we just raised the price.”
Those lying bastards. Michael kept his temper in check. An outburst might shut Roth up before he finished giving the world his confession.
“And did you or any of the other doctors, Westly included, suggest unnecessary surgeries to your clients?” Michael asked, and hoped the man answered honestly. If Roth lied, holding his temper under control would become dangerously difficult, especially because he knew all about the lies they’d spewed to Eliza.
When Roth didn’t answer, Michael moved toward him with the scalpel. “If you’re finished talking, we’ll just go ahead and—”
“Yes,” Roth blurted with a sob. “We all did. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Aware of the video recorder, Michael shook his head, and kept his emotions under control. Although he wanted to choke the life out of Roth, and kill the others all over again, he also didn’t want to appear as the violent villain, either. Conning their clients out of money, encouraging them to have avoidable and excessive surgeries, had been unethical and criminal. They were the villains.
“I didn’t want to hear that you lied and manipulated your patients,” Michael began. “I didn’t want to give your colleagues their personal procedures, either. But I also didn’t expect to bury my daughter because of your lies and manipulations. You did lie to her, didn’t you?”
Chin trembling, Roth nodded. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “We knew she was insecure and impressionable, but—”
“Impressionable,” Michael echoed, the fury now slowly bubbling to the surface. “My daughter’s IQ was eighty. According to her psychiatrist, she was borderline intellectually functioning. But she pushed herself, and had even enrolled in the community college. Was she impressionable? Absolutely. Did she deserve to be prey
ed upon…?”
Clenching the scalpel, he turned away before he stabbed Roth in the chest. From the time Eliza had been a toddler, and he and Sarah had realized she would face challenges based on her intellectual disadvantages, he’d warned Eliza to never trust anyone. Especially after Sarah had begun entering Eliza in beauty pageants. With a world filled with sexual predators, Eliza’s naivety, her inability to truly think through a situation and read the pros and cons, he’d worried. When Sarah had divorced him, and he was only able to see Eliza alternating weekends, his worry had deepened. Eliza had always known she wasn’t the brightest kid, but when her mother had filled her fragile, adolescent mind with dreams of a modeling career, his daughter’s insecurities had grown. If she couldn’t be the smartest kid, then she would be the prettiest. No matter the cost.
“Impressionable,” Michael repeated. “Did her mother happen to tell you just how impressionable Eliza was?”
More tears streamed down Roth’s face as he nodded.
“So you knew Eliza wouldn’t understand your instructions regarding her procedure or any of the contracts she’d signed?”
Another pitiful nod. “But her mother was with her when any of us explained the surgeries and when we’d given her the contracts.”
“I don’t doubt that. Trust me. I blame her as much as I blame you.” Michael shrugged.
“It’s a shame she put a bullet in her head before I had the chance to show her how much she disgusted me.” He moved toward Roth again. The man had confessed enough, and Michael wanted to move on with his procedure. While he didn’t look forward to the blood and screams, he did look forward to finishing his promise to Eliza.
“Wait,” Roth shouted. “I told you everything you wanted to know. You have it on video. I’m ruined.” He sobbed. “My name, my reputation, I…I’m ruined. Please, think of my wife and my daughters.”
Michael glared at Roth. “Like you thought of your wife and stepdaughters when you took women to your hotel room? Trust me. I am thinking of your family. I’m thinking that they’re better off without you. Even if I did let you go, you’d be worth more dead than alive. Don’t you think?”
Roth grew silent. The tears stopped. He no longer struggled against his restraints. Instead, he drew in a deep breath, then said, “You’re right. I deserve to die for what I’ve done. Go ahead and kill me. I don’t want to live anymore.”
The sobbing began again. Amused by Roth’s acting skills, Michael smiled. “Playing the martyr won’t work on me. Besides, I told you I wasn’t going to kill you,” he said as he approached Roth with the scalpel. “The coyotes will, after I fix your nose.”
Roth screamed and raged. The veins at his temple and neck bulged. Spittle flew from his mouth. He swore and threatened Michael. Bowed his body against the restraints.
Tired of all the noise, and ready to complete his death wish list, Michael ripped a piece of duct tape from the roll. He pressed it against Roth’s opened mouth, then reached for the scalpel.
Pinching the bridge of Roth’s nose again, Michael drew the blade close to the man’s flaring nostril. “We’ll just take a little off the tip of your nose.”
Although prone and secured to the surgical table, Roth fought, jerked his body and head. The scalpel slipped, and Michael sliced through Roth’s nostril. Even with the tape over his mouth, Roth’s scream reverberated off the steel walls.
Wincing, Michael shook his head. Roth already leaked a lot of blood. This could be extremely messy, and he didn’t feel like dealing with a mess. Then again, what did he care? After he delivered the DVDs to Eden, he would not return to the farmhouse. He had bigger, better plans for his future.
“Look what you made me do,” Michael said. “I guess I’ll have to take off the other nostril as well. We can’t have you all lopsided.”
After removing the other nostril, Michael began to cut into Roth’s nose. As the man screamed and cried, sick satisfaction bled into self-loathing. Torture, mutilation, murder…never in his life had he thought he could sink to this level of depredation. He might not have been a saint, but he’d always upheld high, moral standards for himself. When Eden watched this DVD, when she heard Roth’s confession, would she understand? Would the rest of the world? Or would everyone think he was insane?
His sanity had never been the issue. His sorrow, his need for retribution had been what had fueled him. Everything he’d accomplished in his OR had been for Eliza.
He didn’t expect many people to comprehend the depths of his grief, or his need to right the wrong committed against his daughter. He also understood that what he’d done to the other men, and what he was currently doing to Roth, would be construed as monstrous. But in his OR, monster or not, he was judge, jury and executioner.
Today marked the end of seven years of planning, researching, and preparing. The day they’d touched Eliza, Roth and the others had unleashed a dark, sinister hatred Michael hadn’t realized he’d been capable of carrying. The others had paid for their crimes, and so would Roth.
As he was about to finish removing the cartilage from Roth’s nose, he realized the man had passed out.
Thank God.
Slicing Roth’s face had been beyond grotesque. Like with Westly’s dental surgery, Michael had been too close to Roth, had been able to see the pain, misery and regret in his eyes. While he didn’t feel sorry for Roth, or any of them, he mourned for not only Eliza, but for the honorable, moral, respected man he’d once been.
He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on what he’d done, or all that he’d lost. Time was ticking, and he had an agenda to keep.
After quickly undoing Roth’s restraints, he flipped him over, then hogtied him. He retrieved the wheel barrel, shoved Roth’s unconscious body inside, then grabbed his varmint rifle. Wheeling Roth through the wide service door, he scanned the gravel driveway.
In the distance a coyote bayed.
He pushed the wheel barrel over the gravel, then onto the dirt path leading deep into the woods. With each step he made, the hatred that he’d carried for seven long years began to dissipate. He imagined that hate scattering amongst the naked trees, or being carried into the distance on the cold wind.
And smiled.
Chapter 22
STARING AT THE closed bedroom door, Hudson ran a hand through his hair, then scratched the back of his head. He’d messed up—big time.
Riding on a high from when Eden had admitted she loved him, he’d barely paid attention to John or the football game they’d been watching. When John had mentioned the whole ‘another walk down the aisle’ thing, Hudson hadn’t thought anything of it. The only thing he’d been thinking about was Eden, how they were going to make their relationship work. Well, and that omelet she’d promised him.
Now the only thing on his mind was trying to find a way to make things right.
Heading toward the living room to open the files Rachel had sent them, his stomach tightened into a ball. He couldn’t wipe away the image of Eden—the hurt and disappointment that had clouded her eyes with tears and sadness. He couldn’t remove the dull ache that had taken root in his chest, the moment he’d realized he’d hurt the woman he loved.
When she’d said she loved him, he’d been stupid to not tell her that he loved her. But he’d been overwhelmed and ecstatic that Eden—one of the smartest, strongest, sexiest women he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing—actually loved him. His family certainly hadn’t, his ex-wife had, just not enough. But Eden did love him, flawed, scarred, she loved him. She’d showed him with her body, with her trust. What did he give her in return?
Jack shit.
While he honestly believed their pasts didn’t matter, Eden had thought otherwise. She’d given a part of herself the night she told him about her assault. She’d given him her trust. Instead of returning the gift, he’d unintentionally trashed it. Knowing Eden, her need to control, her need to have a plan of escape, he worried that if he didn’t rectify the situation, she’d leave for New York and nev
er come back to him.
He’d fight for her this time. Loving her, being a part of what they had together, was the best thing he’d ever done. Letting her go wasn’t an option. He wouldn’t beg her to stay. He’d told her that before, and had meant it. She needed to explore her career opportunities and make her own choices. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t continue to support and love her.
When she’d told him she loved him, his plans to move to the suburbs and take a different, safer job had suddenly sounded…boring. While he’d been ready to take a less chaotic route, he realized that if Eden wasn’t along for the ride, his life wouldn’t be the same. He would rather have the chaos that followed her busy career, and even the hectic lifestyle of New York, than live without her. Now he had to find a way to make her understand his mistake, and believe in him again.
Her slippered feet brushed against the hardwood. He turned and caught the contempt and hurt in her eyes before she bent and picked up Brutal.
“Have you opened the files yet?” she asked, then sat on the couch next to him.
“Eden, honey, I—”
“Don’t.” She glared at him. “Let’s just work on the clientele list.”
With a nod, he opened the file. She wanted to stick to business. He could do that…for now. Eventually she’d have to listen to him, and when he was given that opportunity, he’d lay everything on the line and hold nothing back.
“Rachel sent us the clientele list from the approximately three years Med Spa was open, along with before and after photos. We’ll review A through M, and she’ll work on N through Z.” He sighed, and shook his head. “I’m still not sure what good this will do without a name though.”
She scratched Brutal behind the ears. “The killer mentioned two women that he’d loved. I think we should keep our focus on the female clients who had both liposuction and breast implants.”
He stared at the list that contained over three thousand names. “It’s too bad Rachel couldn’t use her computer magic to narrow the list by procedure.”
“She tried?”
“Yeah, with the way the files were set up, she couldn’t. As it stands, we’re lucky she was able to download the list and pictures.” As he opened the file with the before and after photos, a thought occurred to him. “When the killer called you, he said you reminded him of one of those women. That you even looked like one of them. Maybe we should look for someone who resembles you, too.”
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