The Vigilante (28 page)

“No wonder I could do the things I did, if I felt that way. Serena, knock off the temper, okay?” she mused then wondered,
Does talking to an alternate personality constitute talking to one’s self
?

Martha’s mind turned to methods of eluding her tail. Will seemed very normal today, and she paid little attention to his behavior. Her thoughts were rudely interrupted, however, when an aggressive little blonde girl shoved Will and pushed him headlong down the slide. Martha heard his terrified screaming as he slid downward through the tunnel, before he shot out into the open. Crying hysterically, he searched for her and ran, crying, into her arms.

“Grammy, I want to hit her and bloody her nose. I want to—can I?” His face red with rage, Will stamped his small feet on the softly-textured matting that covered the play area.

“No, Will, we don’t ever, ever hit girls. You remember that?” An image of Joan M. flashed into her mind. They’d never allow Will to grow into a sadistic monster like that husband, Jimmy.

“But she needs it, Grammy.” He clenched his fists. “She does!”

“Maybe she does, but boys grow much bigger than girls, and a gentleman never hits a woman. Can you remember that, Will?” Martha watched Will to see if he planned to act aggressively toward the little girl in spite of her admonishments. She’d never allow it.

“I’ll try, Grammy. Can we go home, now?” His eyes filled with tears, which helped Martha see this episode as basically normal. He’d faced a lesson of life—one of many.

“Sure, Will, we’ll go right now.”

They started for the exit.

“Excuse me please.” A pretty blonde woman held the offending child by the hand. “My daughter wants to speak to your little boy.”

Martha turned Will to face them. “This little girl wants to say something, Will.”

He cast his eyes downward and silently held his ground, his lower lip stuck out in a stubborn pose.

“I didn’t mean to puth you, little boy. I thorry, din’t mean it.” The little blonde girl held out her hand, and Will took it. He only nodded, and Martha thought he was ashamed of the tears that had formed in his eyes.

Later, as they drove home, Will said, “She’s cute, Grammy. But I wonder what she looks like down there?”

Martha saw him grinning as he said it and heard a sly giggle. Feeling sick and defeated, she hated the leering look she saw in his eyes.

Worried her grandson had formed an appetite too mature for one so young; she wondered how Jeannie would take hearing this latest report on Will. Anger shook her violently once again, but she calmed herself. “Will, you shouldn’t spend time thinking about things like that. She
was
a very pretty girl, wasn’t she?”

Will only nodded, but Martha felt a chill at the curious gleam in his eyes. “Callahan I’d
do
you all over again if I had the chance!” she muttered and gave no thought to the car following.

She ushered Will into the house, then turned to her daughter, barely able to control the anger she felt toward Callahan. “Jeannie, Will seems to have developed quite a curiosity about looking at the intimate parts of little girls. Would you let his therapist know about this latest concern? It worries me no end. God! I hate all this and I despise that evil molesting fiend more every damned day!”

“Mom, take it easy. The doctor said we might expect just about anything from him. We have to meet each event as it occurs.”

Her tone indicated she felt ready to handle whatever came up, and Martha took relief and comfort from seeing it. Had Jeannie found a new strength in her battle for Will’s future? Martha certainly hoped and prayed she had.

“I suppose so. It’s just one more thing we face in this battle for our little guy’s return to normalcy.”

“How’s Bob? We haven’t met him yet. When’s that going to happen?”

“Later on maybe, no rushing things, Jeannie,” Martha couldn’t bring herself to tell Jeannie the sad story of how she’d lost him.
Time enough for that. I’m being followed like a criminal, and I’ve committed crimes. What could I possibly tell her that wouldn’t drag her down with me
?

She shrugged, “Well, I have to get back. I see my doctor again tomorrow.”

“Okay, Mom, you’re not telling me much. Something’s happening, and you’re keeping me in the dark.” Jeannie’s frustration seeped through in the tone of her voice. Her daughter was no fool.

“Sometimes that’s the best place to be, my daughter. All in good time. See you later.” She turned to leave then added, “Maybe you’re better off not knowing how rapidly my life is going down the toilet!” She left Jeannie standing there, mouth agape.

While fuming with anger at her untenable situation, Martha saw the little maroon sedan behind her. She stopped her car and got out. As the surveillance person drove by, passing her, she shook her fist at him, and laughed. “Not so good at your job are you? Get lost, you snoopy bastard.”

Then she realized it easily might have been her other self who had spoken those ugly words.

***

Martha entered Dr. Carton’s office in a quandary. Trying to get together with her alternate personality, Serena, had succeeded in bringing untold troubles, even danger into her life. “How do I stop worrying about what Serena may have done, when it was really me? What do I do?” She studied the doctor with eyes that were burning and red from crying and frustration. “What should I expect? I know I’ll be considered a criminal if the police ever find out what I’ve done,” she said, wondering how much the doctor knew about what she’d done as Serena.

“You will experience all sorts of strange things, getting acquainted with another part of yourself,” Dr. Carton answered. “Exactly what sort of criminal acts are you worried about?”

“I don’t wish to go into that just now, Doctor. But suffice it to say, I might have done a few things I wouldn’t normally do.”

The evasiveness of her answer did not escape the doctor, but he didn’t press her on it. Time would change her forthrightness about her alter, he felt certain of it. He also had read of cases where criminal behavior had occurred. Actually, they were not that unusual, but no alter could make the host person do those things considered especially heinous or deadly, according to his understanding of the subject. Martha’s worries were important, but he felt certain her actions were not overly criminal.

After an hour of counseling, she left the doctor’s office feeling no less confused and shaking her head in frustration. She hurried to her car, longing for Bob’s solid presence, but had to face the fact she’d lost that comfort. “I guess I’m on my own in this. I’ve never felt so alone. Lizzie is the only soul who didn’t freak out at what I’ve done as Serena. I couldn’t bring myself to tell those things to Jeannie, and I don’t even care if the cops are following me, not anymore.”

Feeling lost and depressed she drove home and pulled into the garage. “I’ve got to get rid of what’s left of that weird collection behind the plywood. If the cops ever find those things, I’ll be in jail longer than any criminal.” She stowed the offending articles in the trunk of her car and slammed it shut.

Since I’m under surveillance
,
I’ll have to give that nosey cop the slip to get rid of this stuff.
Deep inside, she had the help she needed to achieve her goal and she allowed it. With Serena’s help, she’d make it happen and, for the first time, she welcomed the confidence of knowing it.

She turned the lights off about 10 p.m., hoping anyone watching the house would suppose she’d retired. Waiting until well after midnight, Martha slunk out the back way to scout the streets around her home. The surveillance car sat a block away. She carefully drew near enough to watch the man until she saw an avenue of escape.

“He’s drowsy for sure, that head bobs way too often
.” She chuckled softly as his head jerked upright again. How often had she done the same on long night shifts when things were too quiet? She could almost hear the occasional snort, as sleep overcame him. He fought it until finally his head hit his chest and she knew he’d dozed off.

She opened the tip-up-style garage door manually after unhooking the electric motor. Pushing her car out into the street, she rolled it down a-ways then went back to close the garage door. She left out the small side door, got in her car and drove away. In her rear view mirror, the surveillance car sat in its place, lights off, the driver’s head nodding in sleep. “Thank God this car wasn’t too heavy to push!”

Laughing at her victory, Martha drove several miles out toward the edge of the city. Spotting a large industrial dumpster, she stopped and tossed her incriminating clothes, big men’s boots, and most of the theatrical make-up. Regretting her very poor ethics regarding the care of sharps, she tossed in the few remaining scalpels right along with the other things. “Good riddance, you incriminating garbage!” She’d kept the things contained and felt certain no fingerprints could be found on any of the stuff tossed into the dumpster. She’d always been very careful of that, never knowing why.

“I can’t go home. He’d see me and know I’d been up to something. I’ll find a place to wait out the night and visit Jeannie in the morning. Since she was wearing suitable clothing, she decided to seek an open all night diner.

She remembered Mickie’s Coffee Shop stayed open all night. She’d been there with Bob in better times. She couldn’t go home until after the morning rush hour and made the decision to sit there and nurse a cup of coffee. It would use up time and help her stay awake. Taking a booth far in the back, she surveyed the people, sitting, eating, talking, and some, nearly copulating in their booths. She easily ignored it all.

Her mind in a flurry of hopelessness, loneliness, and distress, she felt a bit of relief as a few stray tears escaped. Putting her head down on the table, she murmured softly, “Oh God, will this nightmare of mine never end?”

The blood froze in her veins when she heard a deep voice behind her. “Yes, Martha, how will it all end? I’d like to know that, too.”

“Bob?” She breathed his name softly and turned to peek behind her at the man in the next booth. Without further comment, he slid out of his booth, shoved his coffee cup across the table, and slipped into the opposite seat, joining her. He fixed his eyes on hers with a look, close to desperation. “You got things sorted out, yet? You’re out so late, anything wrong?” Deep concern lay in his eyes, and the warmth glowing from them set her pulses racing. The heat of him radiated toward her like a furnace. Her body quivered with weakness at seeing that look on Bob’s face again.

“No, just couldn’t sleep, is all,” she murmured weakly. It was all she could’ manage. The sexual heat that emanated from his darkened eyes filled her with a desperate need to crawl into his arms and forget about everything. “How about you? No sleep either?”

“Yeah, same here—Martha, can we go somewhere and just talk? That’s all, just talk.” His soft tone convinced her of his need. “Come on, my lady,” he insisted, his voice the low growl of an impassioned man.

“About what—haven’t we said everything?” Her despair lay deep in her voice. She could hear it and knew he could, also.

He’d never even called her, not once. She held her anger over that. But his presence here, and the concern radiating from him just now, confused her.
What was happening
?

He readily took advantage of her weakness. Somehow, he knew she had no strength left. “Come on, let’s go—come on,” he urged.

When he rose and took her arm, Martha had no will of her own. She stood and walked meekly beside him, holding to his strong arm as he led her to his vehicle. She struggled to ignore the heat of his hands on her body when he ushered her inside.

She knew he headed for his home, and made no move to stop him. She had no strength to stop anything he might do to her this night. She’d never felt so weak and vulnerable in her life.

Deep down, she trusted the kind of man Bob was and knew he wouldn’t intentionally hurt her—though his silences had. And plenty. She said nothing as he drove without speaking through the darkened streets until he reached his home. Then he led her inside and sat her in his big leather chair.

“I’ll get you something to drink. Looks like you need it.” She heard the clink of glasses and ice, then a pop as he opened a bottle. Returning to her side, he handed her a stiff shot of whiskey. “Here you go.”

She drank a good slug of it. Scalding her throat like fire, it warmed her down to her toes. She really didn’t care what she drank as she waited for him to speak. It seemed impossible to care about anything.
What’s wrong with me
?

“Martha, I’ve tried to sort out how I feel about the things you’ve told me,” Bob finally said. “In spite of illegalities, criminal acts, and alternate personalities—try though I might, I can’t get along without you and I can’t get you out of my mind. God knows I’ve tried to put this in perspective, but I can’t. I only know I need the sight of you, the smell of you, and for damned sure, the feel of you!”

He reached for her then, crushing her tight against his big body. He held her close, nuzzling into her hair, kissing her lips so long and deep she almost fainted. His lips raced over her face then began to travel down the front of her shirt. “Oh God, Martha,” he cried, his voice muffled, broken, and trembling. “I love you so!”

CHAPTER 29

Martha gasped as tears of disbelief formed in her eyes. “I don’t believe this. I’d lost all hope. My world is all messed up, and losing you was the last straw for me. I thought you despised me!”

He said nothing more as he kissed her tears away and started opening her blouse. She struggled and jerked out of his arms. “Bob, I can’t. I don’t know what you’re—I can’t believe this is happening.”

He reached for her again, crushed her tight, and kissed her long and hard. Her breath came in panting gasps as she clutched onto him. Her blood raced, only partly in fear, but more because it was him. She wanted him, she burned for him, and she knew at last she loved him, truly loved him.