She scowled. “You didn’t step in?”
“What was I supposed to do?” Milo feigned disgust. “First, the victim was a child-licking, cannibalistic freak, and it happened so fast, I barely had time to assimilate what happened.”
“But if the only one to be cut was this Andy fellow, and he died almost immediately, it doesn’t explain the distribution of blood.”
Fuck. Now she gets smart? “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Jones said there was blood on the other side of the kitchen, near the stove.”
“Oh. That.” Shit. He hadn’t considered having to explain Charlie’s blood. “I kind of hoped I wouldn’t have to say anything about it, because I signed a confidentiality thing.”
“You’re a police officer first, Milo.”
He sighed. “I know. Rochelle’s going to kill me, metaphorically of course, but here goes. There was an incident earlier in the day that the doctor didn’t want anyone to know about. She’s barely hanging onto that group.”
Captain Cunt didn’t seem to like that. Maybe she was disappointed her wonderful doctor was a quack, or just that he was right about her being a quack.
“What happened?” she asked.
“There’s this guy, Charlie, who I told you about before.”
“Refresh my memory.”
“He puts his dick in holes. That’s his thing. Doesn’t care what kind of hole it is; Charlie will put his dick in it. I’m not sure if it’s a sexual thing or not. I mean, I’ve never witnessed it until the other night. He may or may not ejaculate into said holes. No one shared that information, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask.”
She blushed. “I don’t need all the details.”
“Anyway,” he continued. “Charlie likes the drainpipe near the stove a lot. Apparently, he humps it or whatever every chance he gets. Rochelle sent him out for drinks, and when he realized he was all alone with that sexy, rusted, bacteria infested hole, he stuck his dick in it, got it caught, and when he tried to pull it out, he cut the shaft.”
“God,” she said and then covered her mouth. “Is he okay?”
“Couple of stitches.” His nerves calmed as she bought his story. “Now that I think about it, that’s probably what set Andy on edge. His mental stability was pretty rickety already, so I doubt all that blood helped improve things.”
“He was definitely unstable. I doubt your, uh, pipe humper pushed him over the edge. He’d already taken that jump.” Cunt said. She shuffled some papers, and then handed him a folder. “That’s what we found at his house.”
He opened the folder, suppressing a self-satisfied grin as he did so. On the top were several photos of Andy’s freezer, as well as a woodshop. He raised an eyebrow at the photos of the saw blade, which had small amounts of blood on the teeth. The last few pictures were of open garbage bags. One of them contained Bernadette’s severed head. He swallowed the bile that stung the back of his throat. He read the report, written by Jones, and thus full of typos, and looked up. “So… he snapped before Charlie cut his dick. Did the doctor know?”
“She suspected he was hiding something. Victim was Bernadette Saunders. She ran a daycare.”
“Shit,” he schooled his expression to what he hoped looked like dismay and shock. “I buddied with him at that daycare a few days ago. Part of his therapy. They’re supposed to take a group member for moral support or something.”
“And she sent you?” She laughed. “I can’t see you being the supportive type.”
“Hey, I said that doctor was unqualified. And he was fine at that point. All I had to do was keep him from licking the kids.”
“I can’t imagine you around kids.”
“Can we focus on the case?” He fought the urge to throat-punch her. He didn’t like kids, but he wasn’t a monster.
“Sorry.” She didn’t sound apologetic. “So, he did well at this daycare? No signs of what was to come?”
“Nope.” A lie. “He mingled with the kids. Got along with everyone. Before we left, he managed to get a date with Bernadette. He ran it by Rochelle first, and she thought it’d help him with his therapy.”
“Which was clearly the worst idea ever.”
“It’s easy to say that when you have the benefit of hindsight,” he said. “His thing was with kids, so I thought it might be good for him too. Of course, I’m not a medical professional. Rochelle should’ve known better.”
And she had, but he was hardly going to fill Cunt in on that detail. How was he supposed to know Andy would cut Bernadette up and eat her? Rochelle should’ve overruled Milo and chaperoned the date. She was the doctor, after all.
“So,” he said. “What are we doing about Andy’s case?”
“We aren’t doing anything.” She reached across the desk and took the folder back. “Jones and McTaggart will tie up the loose ends later today. The coroner is satisfied with the version of events you relayed the other night. By tomorrow, the case against Mr. Lemon will be closed. There’s no homicide there. We’ll get a judge to look at Ms. Saunders’ murder. I imagine Andy will be named as her murderer. Then that’ll be the end of that too.”
“All you need is a pretty red bow to tie it all up for you.”
“You think there’s more to it?”
“Not necessarily.” He stood. “Am I still sentenced to thirty days with the loons?”
She leaned back in her chair. “I think it’s been good for you.”
“How’s that? A guy is dead. His girlfriend is in pieces. Another guy is traumatized more than he already was.”
“I’m sure Mr. Lemon will be fine.”
“Ozzie’s a stressful day away from a mass murder. And I haven’t received any actual therapy yet, because the so-called doctor can’t keep a lid on the crazy. Do you know there’s a girl there who bit off all of her fingers?”
“No so concerned about confidentiality now, eh?”
“I’m just saying, if there was anything wrong with me, which there isn’t, that group sure as hell won’t fix it. If anything, they’re rubbing their crazy off on me.”
“I think you’ve got enough crazy all by yourself.” She pointed to the center of the desk. He followed her gaze to a paper plate. On it was a half-eaten jelly donut. “I’m impressed at your ability to focus, though. A couple of weeks ago, you wouldn’t have overlooked a jelly donut.”
Fingerprints showed where the eater, presumably the captain, had pressed into the top of the donut, crushing it and pushing the purple jelly—he swallowed—out of the center. The jelly had pooled on the plate, the top congealing into a flexible outer shell. He saw a streak near the side, where someone, again, presumably the captain, had wiped some jelly with their finger so they could—he took a breath—lick it off. He felt the rage burn his chest, but he pushed it down.
“You’re testing me?” he asked.
“Just curious.”
He looked away from the donut, clenching his fists. It was so… messy. He wanted to smash it in her face, but the jam and the powder, and her teeth germs, would get on him. He took a breath and backed toward the door. “Real mature.”
“Only seventeen more days, Milo. Good work.”
“Fuck you.”
He left the office. He didn’t glance at Joy, who tapped away at her keyboard.
“Bye, Milo,” she called after him.
The sooner he found the evidence to convict Rochelle the better. Then he could get back to work and focus on getting Cunt fired.
***
“Where’s Milo?” Nina asked.
Rochelle set the tray of mugs and the carafe full of coffee on the table in front of the sofa. Why did they like Milo so much? He was an asshole to them most of the time. “Milo is at the police station clearing up what happened last night.”
“He said I won’t go to any shit-fucking jail,” Ozzie said.
She sighed. Ozzie’s swearing had escalated. He’d made so much progress. Damn Andy and damn Bernadette. Damn Milo too. He probably did somethin
g at that daycare that set Andy off. Rochelle couldn’t prove it, but this new nice guy routine wasn’t Milo. He was a loner. He had zero personality and she’d be surprised if he had even a hint of a conscience. There was no way he’d help the group just to get her to sign off on his return to work. He was playing another game.
“Why doesn’t Oz have to go to jail?” Estella asked. “He did stab Andy.”
“Fuck! C-sh—Did not.”
“Relax.” Rochelle sat in her chair and faced them. “Milo will make sure no one goes to jail. And Stella, you know it was an accident. Oz isn’t a murderer.”
“So now what?” Nina asked. “And how come I didn’t get to go drinking with you guys? Buggy said Milo bought supper too.”
“Because you were busy being a whore,” Estella said.
“And you’re not? I guess you think you’re special because he took you somewhere.”
“I’m special because he....” Estella glanced at Rochelle. “I just know he likes me way more than he likes you.”
“Well, unlike you, I am dealing with my shit. Rochelle said I’m making progress, so next time, you get to stay here and I’ll go. We’ll see who he likes better then.”
“I earned it more than you,” Charlie said. His wound was still tender, and sitting upright was painful, so he had no choice but to sit behind everyone on the loveseat. “Got my dick mangled.”
“Oh, two stitches. That’s hardly mangled. Drama queen,” Nina said. “It’s not fair that I didn’t get to go. You guys should’ve waited for me.”
“It’s not their fault you fucked that cop.”
“I did not.”
“Who’s the liar now?”
“He licked my snatch. I promised no fucking and there was no fucking.”
Jesus. Rochelle cleared her throat. “Nina, oral sex is still… fucking. Charlie, I know you missed out on a fun evening with Milo, but there will be others. Can we please get back to therapy and stop discussing Milo?”
“You don’t like him,” Buggy said. “I can tell.”
“I like him,” Rochelle lied. “But you all need to get yourselves centered. There has been a lot of upheaval over the past few weeks. It’s time to focus on your healing again.”
Ozzie snorted. “Fuckers. Cock-sniffing-cunt-giblets.”
“See?” Rochelle pointed to Ozzie. “It’s been ages since your swearing has been this out of control. You’re babbling again.”
“Twatsicle. Sorry.”
Rochelle sighed. “Charlie, how are you feeling?”
He gave her a thumbs-up. The sunlight from the window behind the loveseat created a halo over Charlie’s dark hair. He usually kept it meticulously styled, but today it was messy. He was almost cute with it falling over his face like that. Well, maybe if the predatory gleam wasn’t in his dark eyes.
“I’ll have to check your stitches later,” she said. Damn Andy again.
“I’m good,” Charlie said. “No swelling, no oozing and I don’t feel like fucking anything, that’s for damn sure.”
“You’d fuck a troll if it offered you a nice, tight hole,” Nina said.
“You offering?”
“Enough,” Rochelle warned.
“Really, it’s all Charlie’s fault,” Estella said. “If he hadn’t stuck his dick in the pipe again, none of this would’ve happened.”
“Are we forgetting that Andy ate a woman for breakfast?” Charlie blurted. “Because that was before everything else. And Rochelle said to shut up about the pipe.”
Rochelle stared at the group. Charlie fidgeted with his crotch. He was agitated, but his pain meds kept him practically immobile. At least she didn’t have to worry about him acting out for a few days. Nina, on the other hand, was out of control. After Rochelle had wrestled back into the house, tearful but also post-orgasmic because Officer Twit apparently knew his way around a clitoris, Nina stole Rochelle’s vibrator. Rochelle didn’t ask her about it, because she didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that she owned a vibrator, but she knew Nina was the only one who would use someone else’s sex toy. Rochelle searched the house, but couldn’t find it. She could only imagine where it’d turn up.
And then there was Oz. He could barely open his mouth without cursing, and he’d gone back to knocking on his head.
Buggy seemed all right in comparison, but Rochelle noticed the twitch had returned near his eye and he tapped his fingers constantly. If she could keep him relatively calm, Buggy would be all right.
And Estella, well Estella hadn’t made much progress anyway, so her behavior was at least normal. While she danced along a very thin line, at least Estella was consistent.
“Well?” Nina finally said. “What are we discussing?”
Rochelle shook her head. They needed her to remain focused. “Is there anything you’d like to discuss?”
“Bitch-slap,” Ozzie said.
“What did you talk about with Milo last night?” Rochelle asked, addressing Estella.
Estella blushed. “I thought you didn’t want to talk about him.”
“I don’t, but it’d be rude not to ask. So? What did you talk about?”
Estella shrugged. “Nothing really. He said we stick to our stories and Oz would be okay. We agreed to do that.”
“Nothing else?”
Ozzie muttered something and knocked on his head. They were lying. Rochelle smiled. She’d get them to talk. “It’s okay, guys. Milo and I discussed this. He knows you tell me everything.”
“Bald-faced-fucking-lie,” Ozzie said. “Sorry.”
“He asked about Shamus,” Buggy confessed.
“You’re a cock-snuggler.”
“And what did you tell him?” Rochelle knew Milo had an agenda. He wasn’t on their side at all.
“Nothing.” Estella shot Buggy a glare. “We said we didn’t know any Shamus and he let it go.”
“Really,” Rochelle said. Estella was a terrible liar. She always twirled her hair. “He just moved on? Seems unlike him.”
“Well that’s what he did. Who’s up next for a test?”
Rochelle would leave the matter alone, for now. She smiled. “You are.”
“Because you think I’m lying?”
“No.” That was exactly why. “You’ve grown much stronger over the past few weeks. When you joined us, the idea of seeking out relationships was terrifying for you.”
Estella rubbed the stump where her right thumb used to be. “Still is.”
“And yet you and Milo seem to get on well.”
“He’s a prick.”
“Nevertheless, he seems to have taken a shine to you.”
“Think so?”
“I think he’d be the perfect anchor for you, so I’m going to give you both an assignment.”
“What do I have to do?”
Rochelle leaned over the table. She picked up the carafe and slowly poured coffee into each mug before setting it down and looking at Estella again. “Milo’s taking you for a manicure.”
Estella paled. “I don’t have any fingers, thus no nails to manicure.”
“He’s getting the manicure. You’re going to watch.”
“Two birds with one stone, eh?” Buggy said. “You still going to tell us you like him?”
“And Buggy will go with you to make sure no one panics,” Rochelle said. “It’s not that I dislike him, Buggy. He needs to confront his fears too, and this is perfect.”
“Milo’s scared of manicures?”
“He’s afraid of germs.”
“I thought—ass-fuck—you were going to start with the cats,” Ozzie said.
“I changed my mind.”
“Rochelle?” Charlie groaned from the loveseat. “I think I need more drugs.”
Rochelle glanced at him and sighed. His pants were down to his knees, and he’d pulled off the bandage. “Okay, I’ll get them. Pull your pants up, Charlie. No one wants to see that. The rest of you, drink some coffee, talk amongst yourselves. Estella and Buggy, don’t go too far. We
need to speak privately.”
Estella was pale. She nodded, though. “Hypnosis?”
“It’ll help you cope tomorrow. Trust me. This will be good for you.”
And very bad for Milo.
CHAPTER 15
Milo sat at his desk poring over the notes he’d made during his time at Rochelle’s shit show. There were all kinds of connections, but not a single piece of evidence that put Rochelle at the murder scenes.
Motive: She was a nutter. They don’t need motives. However, he suspected any patient that didn’t make Rochelle look good, which meant any patient that didn’t get better, was a liability in her opinion, and had to be eliminated.
Means: She controlled everything these poor bastards did and through hypnosis, she controlled their every thought. Rochelle could tell them to do anything and they’d be happy to oblige. Her tests, he figured, provided the perfect way to snuff the rejects. She didn’t have to get her hands dirty, but he suspected she had done so at least once.
Opportunity: Rochelle had tons of that.
He had all he needed to point the finger at Rochelle, but it was circumstantial, and Captain Cunt would never arrest on the flimsy evidence he had. She hated when a case got tossed out of court because the evidence wasn’t solid.
He frowned. He just needed a single smoking gun. One indisputable piece of evidence that proved she was behind the deaths of the poor insane fuckers she treated. He tapped his pen three times and then set it down.
God, he was hungry. All he had in the cupboard, though, was soup. Without crackers, he couldn’t eat it, because it didn’t require enough chewing.
He realized he just dismissed soup because of a ridiculous reason. Before Rochelle, he’d have just not eaten, but now, he was seriously considering making a trip to the store for crackers. So maybe he was a little bit crazy. Not off the wall bonkers like the rest of them, but just a tad. And maybe Rochelle had helped him a little. Entirely accidental, but there it was.
His cell phone chirped, rescuing him from his thoughts. He swiped the screen and then touched the microphone icon. “Yeah.”
“Milo, it’s Rochelle.”
Wonderful. “So?”
A sigh. “The group met today while you were at the police station.”
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