Waves of Reckoning (The Montclair Brothers) (8 page)

On the drive home, Renee stared out the window from the front passenger seat. She rubbed her pregnant stomach and felt the little flutter that she loved. This wasn’t exactly how she had planned to announce the newest member of the Montclair family, but hopefully the baby would bring them all some joy…something good to look forward to instead of impending court dates.

“We’re almost home, Love. I want you to rest when we get there. Are you hungry?” Tyler’s voice was still filled with worry.

Renee shook her head in response. She was glad they had decided not to keep her overnight. She needed to think in a quiet environment, without the loud hospital equipment bleeping and a bunch of staff running around. Her directions from Tyler and the doctor had been clear: “Eat better, avoid stress, and get plenty of rest.” All three of those would definitely help in clearing her mind. Then she could come up with a way to get to Robert.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

“Preston!” yelled Skinny Ass at the guard station.

Robert was almost asleep and he was looking forward to having sweet dreams of earning enough money to pay someone to pick off his Dumb Ex. He sat up and stared.

“Get up. You have an interview…” Skinny Ass laughed at him. “I’m sure it’s not for a job.”

Robert walked to the steel door and turned around. He was still stuck at the damn jail and it was pissing him off. He was cuffed and shackled, before he was shoved into a room, where a bald man was sitting.

“What do you want?!” demanded Robert. The man was wearing the cheapest suit he’d ever seen. He laughed.

“I’m Dr. Bradford, a psychiatrist hired by Mr. Knowles to evaluate you. We need to find out what kind of treatment would be best for you.”

Robert stared at Cheap Suit, ignoring the stupid smile on his face. “You must not make very much money.” He laughed harder.

“Don’t start any shit,” warned Skinny Ass.

Robert sat in the chair and waited patiently while Cheap Suit pulled out a bunch of papers.

“Robert, I’m going to be asking you a series of questions. I want you to answer them as best as you can. The first one is this: If someone said to you ‘Don’t put all of your eggs in one basket,’ what would that mean to you?”

“It means that I’m the Blind Easter Bunny. Next question.” Robert couldn’t wipe the grin off his face.

“What about ‘You should look at a glass as half-full instead of half-empty?’ Cheap Suit began writing down Robert’s answers.

“It means the carton of gross milk they give me, isn’t even enough to fill the bottom of a glass!” Robert was getting very impatient. Cheap Suit looked at him like he was ignorant, and Robert could care less.

“Who’s the president, Robert?”

“Gold ole Abe. Give me that axe he used to cut down the cherry tree so I can chop your skull open!” Robert yelled.

Robert wondered if Cheap Suit would enjoy his song. He began to sing it loudly. “Twelve Freaks, sitting in a row…No wait. I wanna change it. One Cheap Doctor sitting in the chair, asking me questions when I don’t really care, go tell the judge, he can go to hell, and when you see my ex-wife, she’s gonna die…Yes, I like that one much better.”

“You want to kill your ex-wife?” Cheap Suit began writing even more quickly.

“Do you hate ants?” Robert laughed at The Tool.

“Do you feel like anyone is out to get you, Robert?” Cheap Suit’s expression was looking more serious.

“Aliens. They come here in my sleep and put things in my head with instruments. Dental instruments.” Robert wanted to laugh extra hard, but he leaned forward, keeping his expression as serious as possible.

“Do you see these aliens?”

“Yes. Every night. They talk to me, too. They say ‘Robert kill Renee. Kill the psychiatrist.” Robert had to fight like hell not to lose it.

“What do they look like, Robert?”

“They’re green like snot. Big bulging eyes like Skinny Ass over here. About twelve of them come into my cell.
Twelve
!”

Cheap Suit grilled him for an hour. When he was being shoved back to his cell, he began singing his new song again. “Twelve Freaks, sitting in a row…” Once he got to his cage, he was shoved extra hard.

Skinny Ass gave him a dirty look when he slammed the door. “Let me guess, Preston. You’re trying to get your ass thrown in a psychiatric ward instead of the prison. I’m documenting everything that points to your sanity. You’re a low-life killer, but you aren’t crazy. Nice try though, you piece of scum.”

Psychiatric ward
, thought Robert as a smile stretched across his face.

Chapter 8

V
incent cringed when
he saw William Furrow’s name appear on the display as his phone rang. Maybe it was because he already knew what the call would be about.

“William, how are you?” The expression on Vincent’s face didn’t match his tone of voice.

“Pretty good. I wanted to update you on Preston. Knowles is using a psychiatrist by the name of Bradford; a scared little mouse of a man. I’ve had to cross examine this guy a few times. Anyways, I have a copy of the report from his interview of Robert. His diagnosis is Paranoid Schizophrenic.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Vincent was absolutely dumbfounded.

“His fees are pretty cheap, and that’s the only reason I believe he gets hired to work in the court system. He’s misdiagnosed every case that he’s consulted on. But don’t worry over it, Vincent. We’re sending Dr. Lucy Atkins to evaluate him.”

“I’m not trying to sound sexist, but he’s pretty intimidating.” Vincent could just imagine Robert scaring the hell out of her.

“She doesn’t scare, and her balls are bigger than the both of ours. Trust me, Lucy’s the real deal. She’s gone against every killer who’s tried to play the insanity card. Those who really do need help, she makes sure they get it. But when someone is pulling symptoms out of their ass, well she takes care of that as well.” Furrow laughed as if he was recalling fond memories.

“When will she see Robert?” Vincent was afraid it’d be too late to do anything about this killer faking a mental illness.

“She’ll be at the jail in four days. I think her appointment to interview the bastard is at 9am, but I’ll get confirmation on that, Vin, don’t worry about this stunt he’s trying to pull. We aren’t going to let it happen.”

Vincent thanked Furrow before hanging up. He wished he could feel the same confidence that the prosecutor felt, but Robert’s manipulative abilities weren’t anything to sneeze at. Sitting at his desk, he looked at the clock and realized he was just postponing the inevitable. Piling more stress onto Tyler’s plate wasn’t exactly what he was shooting for. He hesitated for another minute, before dialing his oldest brother.

“Vin, is everything okay?” asked Tyler in a quiet voice.

“How’s Renee?” Vincent was still worried about her and the baby.

“She’s sleeping. Give me a second to get downstairs.” He could hear Tyler making his way down the stairs and then into another room where he closed the door. “It’s okay now.”

“I wanted to know if you, Sean, and Jacob, could all meet me in my office now. If not, we can come to your house. I just don’t want to be overheard.” Vincent had no intentions of discussing Robert, or anything having to do with the creep, within earshot of Renee.

“Brian’s here and can keep an eye on her for a little while. I can’t be gone too long, though. It’s getting late.”

“Sean and Jacob are here in the building. I’ll call them over, but we’ll wait until you arrive to get started.” Vincent hung up the phone and called his secretary, asking her to contact his two other brothers. He could have called the twins directly, but they would have hammered him with five hundred questions first. They weren’t very patient when it came to waiting for answers. But then again, patience had never been an abundant virtue of the Montclairs.

“Tell me you have food, Vinnie. I’m starving,” announced Sean as he came through the door, followed closely by Jacob.

“Didn’t you grab something to eat after we left the hospital?” Vincent suddenly remembered that he hadn’t eaten either. Without waiting for a reply, he called his secretary to order three extra-large, supreme pizzas.

“No olives,” announced Sean.

“And no anchovies. Get some of those breadsticks.” Jacob directed.

Vincent looked at his brothers and rolled his eyes. “Elissa, could you please order us breadsticks too, and on the pizzas, ask them to hold the olives and anchovies. Don’t forget to order whatever you and the boys would like to have for dinner. I’m horrible at guessing.” He listened to her shy laugh. She was the sweetest woman in the world. Her husband was an idiot for walking out on her. After the first interview with Elissa, Vincent had hired her immediately.

“Wait, Vin. You know that green peppers give me heartburn…” mentioned Sean.

“Pick them off,” replied Jacob and Vincent at the same time.

A few minutes later, Tyler walked in and sat down. “I’m starving, Vinnie. Got any food?” They all began to laugh.

Vincent thought it’d be best to wait until their stomachs were full to bring up such a foul topic. Montclair tempers always rose more slowly when they weren’t hungry. Even though his brothers kept asking him a hundred questions, Vincent just kept repeating himself. “Eat first, then we’ll talk.” When they were finished, he took the leftover pizza, which he’d known there’d be a lot of, and brought it out to Elissa. He never ordered food without getting something extra for her and her children. Vincent knew how hard it was being a single parent from watching Tyler for all those years.

When he walked back into his office, he closed the door and then pulled up a chair to be close to his brothers.

“You waited until after we ate, so it can’t be good news,” began Tyler. “That’s an old wives tale, Vinnie. I bet we get pissed off anyways.”

They all laughed in agreement, but Vincent knew that Tyler was dead on. “As I told you earlier, Robert’s attorney thinks he needs to be psychologically evaluated before sentencing. That way he’ll go to a psychiatric facility instead of the prison. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still a prison, but he’ll have a few more comforts.”

“When does
this
take place?” spat Sean.

“He had his first evaluation today. The defense’s psychiatrist diagnosed Robert as being a Paranoid Schizophrenic. We all know that’s bullshit. That’s why Furrow is having a psychiatrist, named Dr. Lucy Atkins, interview him in four days.” Vincent looked at the disbelief and shock on his brother’s faces.

“He’ll chew her up and spit her out,” mumbled Jacob to Sean.

Vincent shook his head. “I had the same first response, but Furrow has assured me that she’s ‘our guy’ if you will. We have to trust him.” Vincent wasn’t so sure if he was a believer in the abilities of this woman either.

“Does she even know the depths this creep will go to? At least tell us we’ll be allowed to go with her, Vinnie.” Sean said as he got up and looked out the window.

“If we were allowed in the room during the interviews, I’d already have our seats reserved, but legally, we can’t have anything to do with it. All we can do is wait for a judgment on his mental status. What we know is one thing. What Robert is capable of making them believe, is another.”

Tyler leaned over and looked Vincent in the eyes. “I’m not saying a thing about this to Renee. She’s already stressing over us missing the verdict. This means you can’t say anything to Emma, Jacob.”

“Wait a minute, Ty,” began Vincent. “This is going to be all over the news and in the papers. Are you sure it’s a good idea to keep Renee in the dark? I think she’ll find out regardless, and then she’ll be really pissed.” He watched Tyler sliding into deep thought. Vincent couldn’t imagine being in his shoes right now…not even a little.

Vincent went out to his secretary’s office when his brother’s left. “Elissa, you’ve been here all day. There’s nothing pressing tomorrow, so go ahead and take the day off. You’ve been busting your butt.”

“I don’t mind. My mom has the boys, and I could really use the hours.” Elissa smiled, but Vincent could tell she’d rather be at home. She lived with her parents and he knew she wanted to get a place of her own. Not one dime of child support ever came her way.

“Okay, take the day off tomorrow and it’ll be paid. Do you want an apartment or a house, Elissa?” Vincent had already tried to get her moved, but she wouldn’t hear of it.

“Vinnie, thank you for your offer, but I just wouldn’t feel right.” She lowered her face.

He pulled up a chair and moved it over beside her. “I know what it’s like to worry about the next day. I was in foster care, separated from my brothers, remember? I’m horrible at guessing. I don’t know what you’d like in a home, so let’s go shopping this weekend.” Vincent put his hand under her chin and lifted it. She was older than him by a couple of years, but yet, way too young to be seeing the hardships she’d had to suffer through. He didn’t learn until later that the address she’d listed on her application was to a safe house. Moving in with her parents wasn’t what she’d wanted to do, but her allotted time there had run out.

Elissa’s parents charged her a ridiculous amount for rent, and it seemed to him that they wanted to make sure she didn’t succeed. They took most of her money, so she had very little left. Vincent wanted to go shake the hell out of them, but he knew that’d do nothing but cause problems. He’d get her out of there, one way or another. Miles was two and Noah had just turned four, and they deserved more…they deserved to have their mother happy and successful.

“Thank you, Vinnie. Call if you decide you want me to come in tomorrow.” She gathered her purse and sweater, before leaving the office.

Elissa had saved up enough money to buy herself a car. It was an old Ford Escort. Vincent really worried about her driving that damned thing, especially in the winter.
This weekend, her life is going to change
, thought Vincent.
No matter what.

As he drove home, his phone rang.

“Vinnie, its Carrie. Are you busy?” Her voiced seemed a little stressed out.

“No, I’m just heading home. Are you okay?”

“When I called to confirm my interview in Southfield, they told me that there was now a hiring freeze in place. I’ve been living here amongst a ton of boxes. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find work around here? The precincts are all pretty small, and no one is hiring right now.” Carrie sighed heavily and Vincent could hear her plopping herself down on a bed, or something else with springs.

“Do you have any favors to call in?” Vincent could hear the panic starting to rise in her voice.

“No. It’s not like I’ve been on the force for years and years. I’m going to have to find another big city to move to just so I can get a job. I could always try Detroit.”

“Oh, hell no! That’s out of the question. The city is way too volatile right now, and they’ve run out of money. Just move to Southfield.” He probably shouldn’t encourage her to come to a place where she couldn’t get a job. No matter where she went, she’d have to start at the bottom, but walking the streets of Detroit wasn’t an option.

“I have to have money to live on…you know,
food
and
shelter
?” Carrie softly blew her nose. “I have exactly nine hundred and twenty dollars in my account, Vinnie. That’s not going to get me very far.”

“You can stay at my house until you get back on your feet. Besides, I’m not home very much, so you’ll have the place to yourself most of the time. You’re not a cat hoarder or anything, right?” He laughed, trying to lighten her mood, but it wasn’t working.

“I’ll feel like a freeloader. I can’t do that.”

“Get your things packed and move here. I’ll text you my address. In the meantime, I can make some phone calls and see if I can help some with the job search.”

Vincent was finally able to convince her to come back to town as he pulled up in his driveway and stared at the large empty house. It had four bedrooms, and only one person living in it. Having someone to share it with would be kind of nice.

But then again, did he know anything about living with a woman?

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Carrie Oliver was getting ready to do the one thing her parents had warned her
never
to do…Rely on a man. Not that she ever had in the past. She’d had exactly two relationships since she made the force. One had a problem with her being a cop when he saw her gun; the other had a little drug issue which, of course, meant he also had a problem with her being a cop. Carrie had steered clear of men after that. There was a sensitive woman under that uniform, and if they couldn’t see it, well…screw them.

Vincent Montclair wouldn’t be a threat though. Like he said, he was very busy and hardly ever home. Carrie would be fast asleep by the time he was done working, and he’d have to leave early, so there’d only be chance encounters. Hopefully it’d only take her a week or two to get a job lined up, and she had every intention of paying him rent. She definitely didn’t want to come across as some sort of pitiful, needy woman.

Tomorrow morning Carrie would make sure she got up early and rented a U-Haul. Looking around at all of the boxes and furniture in her living room was making her feel exhausted. She made her way through her bedroom and bathroom, gathering up her possessions, and thought it’d be way easier to just leave everything behind. But there’d be no way she could afford to replace all of this stuff, right now, or anytime really; a cop doesn’t make that much money.

She scraped the last bit of coffee grounds from the can, and then set the coffee maker to begin brewing at five the next morning. As she was walking back to her bedroom to sleep on the bare mattress that was lying on the floor, she thought she’d better call Vincent to make sure he had room for all of her things.

Vincent sounded breathless when he answered the phone. “This is Vincent.”