“Guys, this morning, the light hurt my eyes,” she said, reaching for her son to provide an morning hug. “I am also able to see shapes. Blurry and distant, but I can see shapes and my head hurts really bad.”
“Your sight is coming back,” Ferdinand said. “What do you want to do?”
“Have some coffee and maybe a stack of pancakes, then learn to go out to the yard and feed the chickens,” she said.
“Sounds like you’re planning to stay,” Ferdinand replied, looking up at their son.
“I’m home. This is where I belong,” she replied.
“Mom,” Caliban said to get her attention. “Was there someone here to kill you? Or us?”
“Someone came to do an assessment,” she replied, “I think he’s gone. I made coffee. I want to try my hand at some pancakes.”
“You cooking? Nope, it’s bad enough you’re blind as a bat, the last thing we need is to have you covered in third-degree burns,” Caliban chided.
“Son, she couldn’t cook worth a damn when she had both eyes, so she needs to stay the hell away from the stove,” Ferdinand responded with a chuckle. “I’m on pancakes. Caliban grab some bacon from the fridge.”
“Oh, you two are just the worse,” Tempest said, feeling the cabinets for the letter C, so she could retrieve a coffee cup. “I’m going to file a complaint with the Americans with Disability Association about how I’m treated by this organization.”
“You don’t work here, lady,” Ferdinand said. “This is our house.”
Tempest paused for a moment, appreciating the levity of the situation, but wanting to address more. “Speaking of that, I do have a home in Athens, Georgia,” she told them. “I also have a little place down in Miami.”
“Oh yeah, a vacation home. This summer I get my chance at sunning on the beach with the honeys,” Caliban offered.
“The property in Athens can be a rental until Caliban is accepted to the University of Georgia where we went to college,” Ferdinand replied.
“I’m not going to school in the South. I’m heading west to blue beaches, white sand, and 24-hour sunshine,” Caliban boasted, adding slices of bacon to the pan and sliding it in the oven.
From the outside, it looked like a normal family beginning a busy Friday morning. Raphael Hoyt assessed a family needing to rebuild. Tempest Fateman Muldrake was no threat to the organization, but it did leave a job opening which needed to be filled. He made the call. The other end of the call was answered after two rings.
“She’s no threat,” Mr. Exit said into the line. “Her vision is returning, but it will take a while, and she may not have full eyesight again. My assessment is to leave her be with the understanding her services are no longer required.”
“What about the van?”
“It’s in the driveway. She mentioned that more than like the chemicals had been removed and the vehicle booby trapped for the next person to go inside of it,” Mr. Exit offered.
“Those chemicals and that vehicle never need to fall in the wrong hands,” the voice on the line said.
“There’s a BOLO out for it, and taking it won’t serve any real purpose,” Mr. Exit replied.
“Stay around for a couple of days to make sure, but blow up the van now,” the voice said and ended the call.
“Shit,” Mr. Exit said, grabbing an incendiary device from the back of the vehicle, pulling the pin on the grenade, and tossing it into the van as he drove away. The explosion could be seen for miles. Luckily for all involved, no one saw him. Even more important, and lucky for those who lived in the area, the animals at Muldrake Farms and the low water table, the chemicals had been removed from the van. The Glitter Man made sure those chemicals would never fall into anyone else’s hands. It was his formula. She had no right to it and neither did Beauty.
“Cleaning up after the cleaner,” Mr. Exit mumbled, driving at a safe speed away from the home. In the rear-view mirror, he watched the family come out on the porch. The handsome husband ran back into the home, returning carrying a fire extinguisher as if he were going to end the fire himself. Cute. They had a chance to be a family with no interference from The Company.
It was better that way. Cleaner. Tempest had a chance to leave the company without any help from him. He’d check on her in a few days, but today, he planned to get back to his fishing, which was three states away. If the Glitter Man was still in the area, he would have to stay. No one had given Raphael any orders to take him out, so he would just leave the man to his own devices.
Bad habits always caught up with bad spirits in the end. Today, it wasn’t his turn to help anyone meet their maker.
THE GLITTER MAN WASN’T happy. Things didn’t work out as he had planned. His entire life was replayed in this first attempt to right the wrongs done to him by Tempest, her husband Ferdinand, who stole his friend and those damned Technicians. It chapped his ass that of all the people to show up and make it right, Raphael Hoyt, Mr. Exit himself, arrived and did nothing.
“Even blind, that bitch has skills,” he scoffed.
He remembered being in love once and how wonderful it felt coming home to a family. That too had been taken away from him. Everything he ever loved had been taken away from him by someone in Beauty’s organization.
“Study Rami. Study how it works. Find the center piece, then break it. Break Beauty. Break the Company. Break the technicians,” he said rubbing his hands together.
All he had was time.
All he needed was time.
All he needed...
Epilogue
Raphael Hoyt started the drive back from Kentucky, heading to South Carolina. In more ways than one it would had felt good to pull the trigger and take Tempest out of play, but she was really good. She had a God given talent for stroking the right vein in a man to remind him of a small moment they shared together which made him feel important. One moment they shared five years ago on a dance floor.
He recalled the moment with pain and clarity. He hated pedophiles. Honestly, he hated any man who preyed upon defenseless women. Phillip, or Phil Weston was the worst type of predator. He took a job as a janitor at an all girl’s school and spent his nights drugging the young girls so he could have his way with them. Unfortunately, Raphael caught him in the act when he arrived to fulfill the contract.
Then people saw his face.
He was almost caught on camera himself, had it not been for Tempest. She should have been gone, but she stayed behind for a hair to ensure that all was cleaned. Phil angered Mr. Exit to the point he’d been sloppy in the execution of the task. Raphael also found himself high in his emotions, thinking about what his sister and niece endured at the hands of her husband.
“Mr. Exit, I’m going to break the rules this one time,” Tempest said, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him onto the make shift dance floor she’d created. “Look at me, look into my eyes, can you feel my body against yours?”
“Yes, I can,” Raphael replied.
“Good, my name is Tempest,” she said. “I know, you should only know me as the Cleaner, but my name is Tempest. Can I ask yours?”
“Raphael,” he answered, forgetting his anger momentarily, loving the feel of her in his arms. “I am Raphael.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Let’s finish the song, exit through the side door and go our merry way. The body has been staged, the cops will tie him to the other crimes, the rest is for the history books. Our work here is done Raphael,” she said softly, rubbing the center of his back like a mother would do during a nightmare. Only the way that Tempest moved against him felt more like a long-lost lover reminding him of a better time.
Her husband would get that comforting touch from her. She was his problem now.
RAPHAEL REMAINED IN Louisville two additional nights, double checking the Muldrake home for signs of the Glitter Man as well as ensuring Wrong Way’s vision hadn’t come back. Moreover, he wanted to make sure she wasn’t pulling a fast one on him pretending to be sightles
s. Taking to high ground, he watched Tempest feed the chickens, completely unaware a black Eastern Hog Nose snake was near her dainty feet. The well-built and overly handsome husband of hers pushed the slithery serpent out of his wife’s path, and she didn’t seem to be aware at all that she was so close to a nonvenomous snake. If there was one thing Raphael knew about Tempest Fateman, the lady didn’t care for reptiles of any sort.
Convinced of her inability to see and his inability to see any traces of glitter near the family, he made his way down I-64, headed towards Lexington. The ten-hour drive back to Hilton Head seemed long and boring, and for a moment, he hoped for a phone call. Not that he was anxious to take a life, but it would be preferable to listening to his own thoughts about Tempest having a family, which for the oddest reason didn’t set well with him.
Lately, it seemed to be the going trend. A couple of years back, Mr. Mann had gotten himself a wife and kid and recently added another. Then Mr. Stop went to check out the wife of a skip trace and ended up in Missouri with a wife and kid himself living in a sod house with a living roof. Or at least, so he’d heard. What really chuffed his chaw was Mr. Yield, that monosyllabic caveman went and got himself hitched to a little lady out of Missouri as well, which is where Tempest picked up her piece of trouble that left her blinded.
“I know one damned thing,” Mr. Exit mumbled to himself. “I’m staying the hell out of Missouri.”
He drove nearly three hours before needing a cup of coffee and a bathroom break. Just outside of Red Ash, Kentucky, Raphael pulled into a welcome center. He usually chose the welcome centers that were brightly lit, on a state property, and normally devoid of too many weirdos in the early parts of the evening. The latter parts of the night he would not attest to, but at a little after four in the afternoon, making the stop was a safe bet.
The sound of a dog barking caught his attention. A tall man with a scraggly beard and suspicious eyes checked the bushes where the dog had located an object. Raphael stood next to the black SUV for a moment observing the man, who became uneasy, collecting his animal and moving back to the pickup that had mud caked over its license plate.
“Hmmph,” Mr. Exit mumbled, checking his inner coat pocket for his favorite weapon. Raphael climbed into his truck, which had the engine still running, and backed up, parking with the butt end into the bushes where the dog had been sniffing, leaving the door unlocked. Due to his profession, the inner lights of his vehicle were disabled, lessening the opportunity to be seen by the interior lights of the vehicle. The dog had ceased to bark, but the truck hadn’t moved, and the driver’s eyes were focused on the rear-view mirror, watching the bushes.
Raphael walked past the old truck, nodding a greeting.
“Hey, I can keep an eye on the dog if you need to run inside and handle some business. My dog can get mighty antsy if I’m gone too long,” Raphael said to the man.
“Yeah, I’ll put him on a leash. You can keep an eye on him that way. If the windows are down, he’s just gonna jump out,” the guy said, dragging his eyes away from the rear-view mirror.
“Go on, I’ve got him. What’s his name?”
“Butchy. I’m Theodore,” the man offered.
“Nice to meet you, Theodore. I’m Ian,” Mr. Exit said, giving his middle name. “Come on, Butchy. Let’s take a little walk so you can water the hedges.”
“You sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. I mainly stopped to stretch my legs, get a bad cup of coffee, and grab a bag of chips from the machine. I’m trying to get Knoxville before nine to get 40 winks,” Mr. Exit offered.
“Great, be back in a jiff,” Theodore said, heading to the bathroom.
Mr. Exit held Butchy’s leash and walked toward the vending machines. The few bills he had in his pocket were used to score a bag of nuts, chips and a cold, sugary sweet drink. His back was to the truck while Butchy whined.
“Okay. Okay,” Mr. Exit said, walking the dog to a nearby patch of shrubs. Butchy raised his leg, providing yellow water to the plant that hadn’t asked for any precipitation. The dog, satisfied that he too had relieved himself, barked happily at his owner’s return.
“Thanks,” Theodore said, taking the dog back to the old pick up.
“No worries. Safe travels,” Mr. Exit said, taking the snacks to his own vehicle. He sat behind the wheel, placing the snack and drink on the backseat. His bladder would have to wait for the next exit, which was at the Tennessee state line on the other side of Jellico.
The turn signal clicked on as Raphael pulled from the parking space, driving down the egress, entering traffic, and merging onto the interstate. The rattle of the plastic wrapper didn’t faze him as he heard the pop of the soda can and a small mouth guzzling down the sugary sweet liquid.
“You’re safe for now,” Raphael said. “I took a chance that you would get in the vehicle once I moved it closer to you. The man was not your father?”
“No,” a small child said. “I like your voice. You have a voice like a nice Daddy that reads great bedtime stories.”
Mr. Exit cleared his throat, trying to get the child to come back on track, “Was the man planning to hurt you?”
“No, but he was going to take me to other men who would,” she said, shoving a handful of nuts into her mouth.
“Have those men or Theodore hurt you before?”
“Theodore is not allowed to touch me or the Mothers,” she said. “He has his own wives. I don’t have anyone but Willow Rayne and Dusty Rose. They are my nest and take care of me.”
“Do you know how to get to where Willow Rayne and Dusty rose live?”
The child sounded small, hungry, and very thirsty. She gulped down the soda, making a loud burp, then opened the bag of chips. Her manners weren’t lacking as she asked to be excused for her the loud gassy expulsion of air.
“Sorry, but I am so hungry. I don’t get to eat until after date night,” she said, frowning. “It would have been my first date night, but I didn’t wanna go. Some of the girls come back from date night very sick. Hurt. Bleeding down there.”
Raphael’s hands gripped the steering wheel. He’d heard so much of this before. Cults of pedophiles masquerading as holiness and wellness centers of the new age of people living off the grid. They were dens of iniquities preying on the less fortunate. He knew them all too well since he’d lost his sister to one in Ohio.
If it hadn’t been for Gabriel Neary going inside one of those cults late one night to rescue his sister, the niece who ran track at Idaho state would have been just like the child in the back seat. A victim with no future outside of more abusive men.
“Sweetie, do you know where I can locate your mothers?” Raphael asked. He didn’t know what to expect from the kid. She sounded very small. Maybe six or seven at the oldest.
“Right outside of Pine Knot in Daniel Boone National Park. Well, not in the park, since that’s the gub’ments land, but right on the edge of it. Willow Rayne and Dusty Rose are there. He’s going to sell them soon,” the small voice said. “Willow Rayne won’t allow Him to touch Dusty Rose, although he says she’s ripe for the plucking. Willow Rayne fights hard to keep Him away from Dusty Rose. She don’t know they took me.”
“What’s your name?”
“Karli Jebsen,” she said.
“Do you have parents, Karli?”
“No,” she said softly. “My father fought against them, and they killed him a few years ago. I think it was years, I’m not that great at telling time on a calendar yet. My real mother tried to get away, and Him sold her to the men with mustaches who talk funny, but Him kept me.”
“Karli, are there a lot of men at this place where you live or just him and Theodore?” Raphael wanted to know.
“Him. Theodore. George and Kindred, who really wants Dusty Rose. No one trusts that guy,” she said. “In the morning, Willow Rayne and Dusty Rose will walk to the Willow Creek to get water and wash clothes. I think we should meet them there and escape with you.”
; “With me?”
“Yes, I prayed for help like Willow Rayne taught me to do when I was scared, and that’s what I did,” she said. “I prayed. You pulled up and scared Theodore and I ran and hid. Butchy started barking, letting you know something was wrong, then you moved your car so I could get in it, and you brought me food. I need more because I’m still very hungry, and I need to pee.”
“Karli, I should call the police and let them handle this,” Raphael said, trying to see the child in the back seat.
“Why? The police come out every Friday and go into the mating hut with a different girl every week. The policeman also wants Dusty Rose, but only Him can have the girls first,” she said. “Him wanted me, but Willow Rayne wouldn’t let Him touch me either, which is why Him was sending me out for date night. I hate it there. Please help me. Help us.”
“If I am caught with you, I could get in a lot of trouble,” he said. “We may need to find someone to help me, help you.”
“I want you to help us,” Karli pleaded.
“Karli, how do you know I’m not a bad man too?” Raphael asked, looking into the rearview mirror to see her face. “I can’t see you Karli.”
She slid over in the seat. She wore a purple slip dress with daisies and other flowers covering the fabric in sporadic spots. Caramel skin with thin braids in her hair and an adorable upturned nose.
“How old are you Sweetie?”
“I’m ten, but Willow Rayne said on my next birthday she would make me a cake. I really like cake, but we don’t really get to eat sugar,” Karli told Raphael. “That soda was really sweet and I’m probably going to start pinging as Willow Rayne calls it.”
“Karli, we need help. I need to make some calls to get a few people to provide me with some more information before I get myself into a mess I can’t get out of, or these bad men end up hurting me too,” Raphael explained.
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