Page 38

Twenty-Three Years Later

I STAND IN FRONT OF THE window in my office, my arms tightly crossed over my chest, body tense, and my jaw cramping from grinding my teeth together. I watch as Sheriff Ward tugs Gary Watters out of the back of the cruiser. Seeing the wince on Watters face when the Sheriff wrenches his cuffed hands up his back a little higher than necessary does nothing for the violent rage forming in the pit of my stomach. I force myself to stay in place when I want nothing more than to storm across the street and end the sick bastard’s sorry life. It’s nothing less than what he deserves and more than what he would receive under normal circumstances.

It’s ironic, because in my line of work I save lives, but the man I see being marched up the steps to the Sheriff’s office is one who has no business walking this earth. He’s lower than dirt and needs to be put down.

Two days ago, ten-year-old Brittney Watters was in school when her teacher noticed her walking funny. When she pulled her aside to ask if her she was okay, the little girl became terrified. It took the guidance counselor, the principal, and her teacher forty minutes to calm her down enough to get the truth out of her. Gary Watters had raped his ten-year-old daughter the night before.

Once that dam broke, a whole flood of information came from Brittney. That night wasn’t the first time he had violated her little body. It was just one of the more brutal ones that she wasn’t able to hide. Brittney informed them that she thought it was normal for her daddy to touch her, that he had done it ever since she could remember, and that he told her it was how daddies showed their little girls that they loved them. He also told her that she couldn’t tell anyone because other girls might get jealous and try to steal him away from her and her little brother. Her brother, Jacob, was four-years-old, and yes, the sick fuck touched him too.

The Sheriff was called in immediately, and it was him who brought Brittney to my office to be examined. Malus, Texas is a small town with the biggest nearby city over sixty miles away. I’m the only physician around for just as many miles. Since the situation was delicate, and not wanting to terrify her even more so by a man examining her, I had my nurse practitioner, Susan, do it. Susan’s very soft-spoken with kids, so she was able to make the little girl comfortable enough to look her over and assess the extent of damage done to her.

The report sits on my desk, and every time my eyes light on it, I want to destroy something—namely the man who hurt her.

We do things differently in Malus. If this had happened anywhere else, the Texas State Police would have been brought in and they would have taken Watters into custody. Brittney and her brother would have also been taken by the State until another family member could be notified to care for them. If none came forward, they would be put in foster care.

In Malus, we take care of our own business, and fuck any outsiders. That’s why the crime rate here is damn near non-existent.

There’s a knock on my door and Susan peeks her head in, “Mrs. Tanner is here for her two o’clock.”

Without turning from the window, I inform her, “Put her in room two. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Already done. She should be ready for you in a moment.”

I grunt, then hear the door close as Susan leaves. I keep my eyes facing the window. Even though I can no longer see Watters, I still stare daggers at the small building across the street. Like I can kill him by simply looking through the brick structure. If only it were that simple. Actually, no. That’s too easy. The man deserves to suffer.

I turn away and walk over to my desk just as my cell phone rings. Taking a seat, I swipe my finger across the screen to accept the call, making sure to avoid looking at Brittney’s file.

“Day and time?” I bark.

“Six o’clock, Thursday evening,” the deep voice responds.

“Was the other situation taken care of?”

“Yes. I spoke with him this morning. He should be back tomorrow.”

“Wish I had been there,” I mutter darkly into the phone.

“You and me both, brother.”

“I want in on the next one.”

“You got it.”

Anticipation fills me at the prospect, but I push down the excitement.

Soon , the voice in my head whispers.

I pull a file in front of me and flip it open. “I’ve gotta go. Keep me updated if any problems arise.”

“Got it. Later.”

The line goes dead, and I look down at the top sheet of paper in the file. Amelia Tanner, my two o’clock, is here for her annual exam. For the first time since I received my medical degree, the sexually disturbed part of my brain doesn’t trigger. It’s a part I’ve forced myself to ignore for years. My field of expertise isn’t psychology, but even I know the vulgar part of my psyche that gets aroused from touching my female patients stems from my disturbing childhood.

On the outside, I’m very clinical and professional with my patients. I’ve never touched them inappropriately or taken advantage of them in any way. What they don’t know is, on the inside, my mind is going wild with sexual fantasies of touching them. They don’t know my body tightens with need, or that my dick gets so hard I could hammer nails into concrete with it.

It’s a secret only my brothers know about, because the last thing I want is to make my patients uncomfortable. Maybe I shouldn’t have a career in the medical field, and my license would probably be revoked if the medical board found out about my perverse cravings, but I love my profession. Not because of those cravings, but because I genuinely enjoy what I do. I like helping people. It’s challenging and the rewards of solving medical problems and creating a plan of care or showing them how to manage is extremely rewarding.

It also gives me control. Malus is mine and my brother’s town. We own it, along with the people who live here. It’s been that way since we moved back to town ten years ago. We’ve made it what it is today, which is much more than what it was when we got here.

I close the file, picking it up as I get to my feet. Mrs. Tanner’s had enough time to strip down and don the paper gown we provide our patients to cover themselves with. Walking out of my office, I see Susan waiting for me outside of room two.

“Ready?” she asks.

“Yes.”

I tap a couple of times on the door as a warning before pushing it open. Amelia Tanner, a woman in her late twenties, sits on the end of the bed with her hands placed in her lap and her socked feet crossed at the ankle. The paper gown she’s wearing on the top half of her body crinkles as she moves when Susan and I enter.

I offer a smile. “How are you today, Mrs. Tanner?”

“Just peachy.”

“Are you ready?”

She laughs nervously. “Is any woman ready to have her privates looked at clinically?”

I chuckle and turn to the sink to wash my hands, throwing over my shoulder, “I guess not.” I grab a paper towel. “Do you have any concerns you need to discuss with me?”

“Not today.”

I nod, toss the paper towel in the trash, and walk over to her. “You know the drill. Why don’t you lie back, and we’ll get the breast exam out of the way first?”

She does as I ask, and before I can prompt her, she lifts her arms over her head. I grab the opening of the gown and pull the pieces apart until her chest is in view. I wait for the usual tingle I get in the base of my spine from seeing a woman’s breasts, and it comes right on cue.

“Sorry if my hands are cold.”

She smiles then stares at the ceiling as I gently massage circles on each breast, ignoring the stirring in my body.

“Are you doing self-exams every month?” I ask.

She nods. “Yes.”

I close the gown back over her chest. “Everything is good here. No lumps or malformations.”

I step back as she sits up. She scoots her butt down to the end of the bed, knowing what’s coming next, and her feet move to the stirrups. I wash my hands again and slip on a pair of gloves.

“A couple more inches, Amelia,” I tell her as I take a seat on a stool and roll closer to the end of the bed. There’s a sheet still covering her lower half. Susan pushes a small cart with the tools I need closer to me.

I take the end of the sheet and push it up over her knees. The first sight of her spread out in front of me, her rosy cunt lips on display, has me wanting to lick my lips. I look past the deliciousness and check her labia for any lesions.

My mind attempts to turn to dirty thoughts, like leaning forward and breathing in Amelia’s musky scent, but I’m able to change the direction of them by asking her, “How are you feeling since you started taking those vitamins I suggested at your last visit?”

“Much better actually. Even Danny says my energy level has increased.”

I grab the speculum and lubricant from the cart beside me. “There’s gonna to be a bit of pressure, Amelia. Just take a deep breath for me.”

Inserting the speculum, I advance it so her inner walls widen enough for me to collect a sample against her cervix.

“How is Danny, by the way?”

She clears her throat before answering. “He’s good. Just got a raise at the bank.”

“I bet that’ll come in handy. Almost done.”

I set the cervical brush in the sample pot before gently pulling the speculum out. My eyes linger a fraction of a second longer than necessary before I pull the sheet down to cover Amelia. She immediately takes her feet from the stirrups and sits up. Her face is flushed. I get up and turn away to deposit my gloves in the trash, giving myself a minute for my body to wilt.

“Doesn’t Sophia have a birthday coming up soon?” Susan asks as she secures the sample. “She’ll be five, right?”

Amelia’s face lights up at the mention of her daughter. “Yes. Next week.”

I hear the smile in Susan’s voice. “Seems like it was just yesterday I was helping Dr. Trayce deliver that precious baby.”

Paper crinkles as Amelia moves. “They grow up way too fast.”

“They certainly do. Make sure you bring her by the office next week sometime. We’ll have a little something for her here from all of us.”

“Thanks, Susan. That’s very sweet of you.”

I grab the file off the counter where I set it when I came into the room and turn back. “Alright, Amelia, you’re good to go. We’ll call if there’re any concerns. If not, we’ll see you back here in two months for your next birth control shot.”

“Oh, well, actually, Danny and I were talking about maybe trying for another baby.”

“In that case, change your appointment to three months from now and we’ll see how things are progressing from there.”

“Okay. Thank you, Dr. Trayce.”

I leave the ladies in the room and head to my office. Unbuttoning the sleeves to my dress shirt, I roll them to my elbows in anticipation of the Texas heat that’ll greet me as soon as I walk out of the building. Grabbing my cell phone, keys, and wallet out of my desk, I flip the light switch off and leave my office. Susan is closing room two’s door, having just left Amelia to redress.

“I’m heading out. Is there anything you need before I leave?”

“No. You go ahead. Everything is finished up for the day. As soon as Amelia’s done, I’ll clean the room and be out of here myself.”

One of the many benefits of living in a town the size of Malus is not having to work full days if it’s not warranted. Amelia was the last patient for the day, and unless there’s an emergency, there’s no sense in staying open. Everyone in town has my number if anyone should need medical attention.

Walking out through the front office door, I’m blasted with a wave of humidity. The sun is blaringly bright overhead, but thankfully there’s a small breeze that makes the heat almost bearable. I look across the street and see the Sheriff walking toward his cruiser. He spots me and changes directions.

Most of the town refers to him as Sheriff Ward, but to my brothers and myself, he’s JW, short for John Wayne. It’s not his real name, but one we came up with when we were kids because John Wayne movies were his favorite. He’s seen them all, some so many times that he used to repeat them word for word. It used to bug the hell out of us, but we never said anything.

“Where did you find the bastard?” I ask when he comes to a stop in front of me.

The pulse in JW’s temple throbs. “Hiding out in Willard’s shed. The stupid fuck thought he could take me on.” He looks down at his hand and flexes his fingers. “He’ll be nursing bruised ribs for days.”

“He give anything up?”

It doesn’t matter if he does. The proof of his sick actions is in the file on my desk.

“Not a thing, but I didn’t expect him to. He’s caught, and he knows it. The only thing he can do now is deny the accusations and hope by some divine miracle we’ll be stupid enough to believe him.”

The notion is ludicrous. He knows how we do things here. He’s been a part of the change since the beginning. He was actually one of the few people left behind when Sweet Haven was taken down.

“He’s a fucking moron.”

“Agreed.” He scratches his beard. “Judge give you a ring?”

“Yeah. I spoke with him earlier.”

“That only leaves eight.”

His phone rings and he pulls it out of his pocket and checks the screen. “We’ll find the rest.”

Fuck yes we will. I’m ready for this shit to be over with.

“Gotta take this. Talk later.”

He swipes his phone as he turns away. Instead of heading to his car, he walks back to the Sheriff’s office.

As soon as my ass hits the seat of my Tahoe, I have my AC on full blast. The drive home is only a few minutes away. I normally walk, but I didn’t feel like sweating my balls off this morning.

I toss my keys and wallet on the island. After pulling open both the fridge and freezer, I realize I should have stopped at The Hill before coming home. There’s not a damn thing in either. I decide to hunt something down later and go for a shower first. I’m halfway across the living room and pulling off my shirt, when something catches my eye. Or rather some one .

I look over and spot Emo sitting on my recliner. The man has jet black hair and piercing blue eyes. He’s quiet, watchful, and rarely lets his feelings show, unless it’s only just me and my brothers around. He’s the smallest of the four of us at just over six foot. When comparing him to me and my brothers, many underestimate him. That’s one mistake people make that always bites them in the ass later. Emo may be the smallest and the more quiet one of our group, but he’s the deadliest.

I finish slipping off my shirt and toss it on the couch. “Judge said you weren’t due back until tomorrow.”

“Something came up, and I needed to be back today.”

I narrow my eyes and look behind the emotionless veneer Emo always portrays. A barely noticeable fine sheen of sweat covers his forehead, the pulse in his neck throbs a little too forcefully, the tic by his left eye, and the knuckles of his hand that’s resting on his thigh are white. It’s that hand that concerns me. I have no doubt the single key he always carries with him is gouging his flesh. When a dark spot appears on his jeans, my suspicions are confirmed.

“Come,” I demand then turn on my heel, not bothering to see if he’ll follow.

Walking into the kitchen, I reach beneath the sink where I keep a first aid kit and set it on the counter. Emo appears beside me as I turn the water on and pull out the things I need from the kit.

“How did it go?” I ask.

I grab his hand, and sure enough, when he opens his fingers, I find an old silver key covered in blood resting in his palm. I pluck it up from his hand and set it on the counter. He immediately grabs it and pushes it into his pocket. That key is never far from him, going so far as putting it on a shelf in the shower when he baths. He even sleeps with it under his pillow.

“He squealed like a stuck pig, and then I gutted him like one,” he replies in a monotonous tone.

I look at Emo and see him concentrating on the blood seeping from his hand. His eyes hold a mesmerized look, completely captivated by the bright color.

Placing his hand underneath the running water, the blood washes away, leaving behind the vision of his mangled palm. It’s not just his palm that carries the deep scars, but his fingers as well. His other hand looks just as bad. The key is always the weapon.

When I pour alcohol on the open gashes to clean them, he neither jerks, flinches, or makes a sound. Pain is Emo’s solace. It calms him and is the only way he can ever find peace.

“Do you want me to call Grace?”

It takes him a minute to answer. “Yes.”

“Expect her there by nine.” I wrap his hand with some gauze. “Watters was brought in today.”

This news gets a reaction out of him. The pulse in his wrists thumps harder against my fingers.

“When?” he growls.

“Thursday.”

He closes his eyes for a brief second, and I know he wishes the key was back in his hand. I grip his wrist and rub the erratic pulse with my thumb, soothing him with a gentle touch. A few seconds later, his eyes open and the demons normally lurking in the black orbs have gone dormant for the time being. They’ll be back. They always are.

“I’ll warn Grace to be prepared,” I say quietly.

He jerks his chin in acknowledgement. Gripping the back of his neck, I wait for him to look at me.

“You good?”

“Yes.”

“Go home and get some rest before Grace shows up.” I squeeze his neck before letting him go.

Without a word, he turns and leaves the kitchen. A moment later, the front door slams.

After cleaning the mess in the kitchen, I call Grace and let her know Emo needs her tonight. The town of Malus is small, so the pickings of women are slim. It’s made even slimmer with Emo’s dark sexual needs. He’s not the type to sweet talk or cuddle. He only fucks in the dark and never wants to see the women’s face or let them see him. He’s not gentle and kind, but rather rough and unforgiving. He doesn’t hurt the women, and they always know what they’re getting from him. With his preferences and his bleak social etiquette, it’s hard for him to find women willing to give him what he needs. Since sex is another outlet for the darkness that resides in Emo, my brothers and I find them for him.

Walking to the bedroom, I kick off my shoes and finish getting undressed. My mind wanders to what will happen on Thursday, and an excited shiver races through me.

Justice will be served, and the monster will be extinguished.