family. But did he want to share that with the shrink? Resting his elbow on the padded arm of the couch, he finally said, "I was the fixer. Neither my Mom nor Dad could cope with the fact my brother had Down's Syndrome. When Mom or Dad were mad at each other or at one of us, I made things right. In fact, if anyone needed help, I was the one to fix it."
"But you're the youngest child, right?"
He nodded.
"That's a pretty big responsibility for the littlest one in the family."
He shrugged again. "Just the way it was."
"What happens if you can't fix something?"
"It doesn't happen often. In fact…" his voice trailed off.
"Go on."
"I wasn't going to say anything."
Doctor Stevens leaned forward. "You've told me about Dave, a time where you weren't able to make things right. Is there another time, Travis? Is there another time in your life you weren't able to fix something?" Tick, tick, tick. The rhythmic beat from the clock on Doctor Steven's desk marked the seconds while Travis weighed the pros and cons of answering the doctor's question. Putting aside Dave's death, was there ever another time when he couldn't fix things?
It boiled down to trust and loyalty. He'd made a promise to Maddie, and now the shrink wanted him to betray his wife. He knew if Maddie found out, she'd divorce him. But in spite of their closeness last night, she was probably already considering divorce. Why would she stay? He hadn't been there for her when she'd needed him most. Now, he was here because the department thought he was nuts. Their marriage was in shambles, so what if he told Doctor Steven's what happened. What was the worst that could happen? His marriage would be over – but it was heading down that road anyway.
"Travis, are you all right?" the doctor asked.
He shifted in his seat and pulled one of the decorative pillows from behind his back and pressed it to his stomach, thinking. Maybe talking about Maddie would give him some relief; just like talking about Dave had done. He leveled his gaze at the shrink and exhaled. Tick, tick, tick.
"It was August thirtieth and hot—well into the nineties, and that was at three o'clock in the morning. I'd been on a S.W.A.T. call-out of an armed barricaded suspect. My ass was draggin', not only because of the heat, but because we'd had back-to-back call-outs that night. We'd worked late the night before and I hadn't gotten much sleep during the day. I didn't have to go to the barricaded suspect. I could have gone home. But I work S.W.A.T.. It's what we do." He brought his right hand up to his face and rubbed his chin. His body re-lived the fatigue he'd felt that night. "I went to the call even though all I could think about was getting home, taking a cool shower and goin' to bed.
"After we'd taken the suspect into custody, I'm anxious to get home. I get to our house and everything looks normal. I open the garage, see Maddie's car, so I know she's home, and I pull in. Everything is fine. I close the garage door and go in the house." Tick, tick, tick.
"Travis, whatever it is, you can tell me. You're safe here."
He closed his eyes and continued. "I'm in the kitchen, I'm grabbing a beer out of the fridge and I get this feeling in my gut. I've felt it before, usually when a suspect's got an advantage on me. I set the beer down and pull my 1911 handgun." He opened his eyes and looked across at the shrink. "Doc, I'd never had that feeling in my own house before. I knew something was wrong."
"Okay. When you're ready, tell me what happened."
He got up and started to move around the room, much like he had that night. "I'm creeping through the house, searching. I don't know what I'm searchin' for, but my heart is feelin' like it's gonna burst outside my chest. As soon as I leave the kitchen, I go out to the family room. There aren't any lights on, but from the light in the kitchen I can see there's been a fight. A lamp was broken, a chair knocked over, our wedding picture is busted and on the ground. I want to call out for Maddie, but I don't know what's going on. If someone's in the house, I want a chance to blast their ass. I go down the hall and the door to our bedroom is closed. It's never closed." Tick, tick, tick.
"Go on."
Unwanted moisture filled his eyes. He didn't want to tell. He didn't want to remember.
"Travis, you're doing fine. Please continue."
"I…I…tried the doorknob. The door was unlocked." He cleared his throat. "I turned the knob and pushed the door open."
The tears began to fall, and his breath came out as sobs. "It was Maddie." Tick, tick, tick. "She was tied spread eagle to the bed. She had duct tape over her mouth and eyes. She'd been…" his voice trailed off. He couldn't say it. All he could do was sob.
The doctor let him cry for what seemed like hours, but was probably a minute, give or take. He grabbed several tissues from the table in front of the doctor and blew his nose and wiped his eyes.
"I could have and should have been home with my wife. Instead, I was out trying to save the world, while my wife was in our home being repeatedly raped by some degenerate pervert." He tossed the tissue into a nearby wastebasket and sat back on the couch in front of the doctor.
"How am I supposed to fix that, Doc?"
TIFFANY – 77
Drejohn broke into a sprint toward the generator shed. Tiffany, Big M and Ginger followed. Blood pounded in Tiffany's ears while she prayed over and over that Brenda wasn't dead. She'd pushed her friend into disabling the satellite dish, and maybe she'd pushed too hard.
Although Tiffany was running at top speed and heard gravel flying from beneath her shoes, her perception told her she moved at a snail's pace. When the generator shed came into view, she almost collapsed with relief. Yes, Brenda was hanging from the building, but not by her neck as they'd all assumed. Brenda's back faced them over the edge of the building while the front of her legs pressed heavily into the roof. Her arms had a death grip around the sagging satellite dish bent over like an overly tall sunflower. Brenda had done it! She'd sabotaged all the TVs at the compound.
"Hang on Bren! We'll get you down," Tiffany yelled.
"What are you doin' bitch?" Drejohn yelled.
"I…I came up on the roof to be alone. I slipped and grabbed the dish to get my balance."
"Big M, get this crazy 'ho down," Drejohn ordered. Big M went in search of a ladder. Turning to Tiffany, Drejohn motioned for her to walk with him. Tiffany shot her friend a wink as she moved away. "You know, your friend is more trouble than she's worth. Just before her first live show, the studio burns down. Do you have any idea how much that cost me? Now she's screwed up my television. I don't care how big her tits are; I want her away from me. She's bad luck walkin'. I'm sendin' her to the Oakland track."
In confiding his plans to her, Tiffany recognized her captor had bonded with her, whether he knew it or not. It was a huge advantage. "Drejohn, she's just scared. Let me talk to her and get her calmed down. Just think how much money the two of us can bring in working together. I've finally realized the kind of life you're offering us and how you'll protect us. It will be so much easier for us to work with each other our first time."
Drejohn fiddled with the diamond stud in his ear, considering what she'd said. Finally he spoke. "Think she can play a virgin? She was all over me at the party where I met you girls the other night."
Tiffany wasn't sure what to say. The fact was, Brenda had lost her virginity at age thirteen. Brenda had said at thirteen her bra size was a 34D and there was a horny fifteen year-old neighbor boy who'd convinced her he loved her so they'd done 'it' in his garage. After that, Brenda toned it down, but Tiffany knew if her friend thought she was in love with a boy, she'd hook up with him. She knew her answer might determine whether or not Drejohn split them up.
"I'm sure she can. I didn't know you two had hooked up."
"Bullshit. She must have told you."
Tiffany shook her head. "She was probably afraid I'd get jealous."
Drejohn nodded in apparent agreement. "Well, I'll tell you one thing; she didn't act like no amateur."
"Must have been the b
ooze and the drugs. Oh, she puts on this big front, but she's really a shy sweet girl."
Drejohn sighed. "Yeah, right." He looked over where Big M had extricated Brenda from the roof of the generator shed. "Okay, your girl's got her first gig. I got a client willing to pay big bucks for a girl who ain't never been done before. You go convince her she's a virgin while I make a phone call."
"If she does this job, can we work together in Vegas? I promise we'll put on a show that will make you lots of money."
"I'll think about it. Maybe if she's around you she won't destroy anything." Drejohn pushed her in the direction of her friend. "Go give her the news." He pulled out his cell phone and dialed. "Oh, and Princess…I'll be tastin' your candy while your friend makes me some big bank. It's gonna be a good day after all."
TRAVIS – 78
It was totally unlike Travis to go down to PAB in search of his wife without calling her first, but he was driven to see her. After confessing Maddie's rape to Doctor Stevens, Travis was overwhelmed with a desire to hold his wife, if only for a moment. He knew his need to connect with Maddie stemmed from guilt after betraying her secret. Because it was the middle of the day, traffic heading downtown wasn't too bad. He knew his chances of finding his wife at her desk were slim, but he was willing to take that chance. Besides, it wasn't like he had anywhere else to go.
He'd only been up to Maddie's office once before when PAB first opened.
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