Giddeon looked at him… studied him. He was the man who held on to his mother. His disgusting hands held her as the other man fought with his father. He remembered. This fucker wasn’t off the hook, but Giddeon’s need to get his hands on Dalton had just intensified even more. He’d ordered these men to kill his parents, but only one of them followed through with it… and it wasn’t this man. He needed to find the other one.
Dominick, being the only man in the room who didn’t know what happened next, asked, “What did you do to them?”
The man stayed quiet.
Giddeon’s violently shaking body launched itself toward the cuffed convict across the table from him. Unable to keep Giddeon at bay this time, Dominick pushed against his advancing form. With tunnel vision, nothing and no one else existed to him, just the scraggily haired man in front of him. All the nightmarishly horrific scenes he’d witnessed as a frightened boy played back to him in slow motion. The look on his mother’s helpless face as the dagger first made contact with her soft flesh was frozen in his consciousness.
Giddeon roared out, unable to contain his rage, easily throwing Dominick aside and catapulting himself over the table at the piece of shit who’d taken part in their murder. The force from the blow blew the cuffed man back, taking the heavy table with him. Once down, Giddeon rained punishing blows down on Dale’s face, imagining it was all those years ago and wishing he’d been able to do to them then what he was able to do now. He wished he’d had the courage to fight the men, to stop them… to do something. As much as he willed his daydream to be enough to bring them back, he knew they never would. Nothing could bring them back.
Tears pricked the back of his unblinking eyes, and the sting brought him out of his wishful daydream to focus on the battered and bloody man underneath him. Dale didn’t bother to fight him back. He hadn’t even lifted a finger to shield his blows. The weathered and weary man just took it. Giddeon froze with his fisted hand in mid-air.
The man looked up at him, and with a strangled gurgling, spoke up with determination. “Do it. I deserve worse. I won’t stop you.”
Giddeon rocked back on his heels and sank to the floor, leaning up against the cold walls. His uttered statement knocked the wind out of him because THAT could be Giddeon. He had said this many times over. Staring at this emotionally broken man struggling to sit up with Dominick’s help, he realized he was staring at his future. Dalton had turned this man’s world upside down… destroyed Giddeon’s life, and turned him into the very man he hunted down.
Dominick hollered over to his reckless partner, furious and confused about what had just transpired between the two. “Someone tell me what the fuck is going on… Giddeon? I’m about two fucking seconds away from locking you in here right along with him. How do you know him? What happened?”
All Giddeon’s energy and will to fight back left his body, along with any feelings of rage he’d previously had. Utterly defeated, he bent over his knees and lay his head in his bloodied hands. With eyes pinched closed, he cast his mind back into a past that’d left him broken and numb. Mechanically, Giddeon relayed the story aloud.
“My mother and I were in the kitchen. She had been making me my favorite lunch of macaroni and cheese. My father had been in the front room watching fight prelims on the TV. Without warning, two men broke down the door, both wearing ski-masks, but they were not prepared to have my father jump up without hesitation and give them the toughest fight of their lives.
“They must not have done their homework because they weren’t prepared to be fighting a boxer in his prime. Hearing the scuffle and shouts coming from the next room, my mother came running in and let out a terrified cry at the scene she witnessed. I followed but hid behind the end table. My mother continued to scream as my father warred with the masked men, gaining the attention of one of the fighting men.
“The bigger fighter shouted at the other, who seemed shocked that there was a woman and child at the house, to grab her. The piece of shit grabbed my mother and wrapped his arm around her neck in a choke hold. She was my father’s one and only weakness. Seeing the man with a knife to her throat took all the fight he had from him.
“The leader of the two men walked right up to my mother, and without a word or any lingering threats or hesitation, gutted her as she stood. Not satisfied with the carnage, he then slit her throat. This man let her drop to the floor where she bled out right in front of me. My father let a scream rip through him, a sound I’d never heard from him before. That sound still haunts me every night. He collapsed to the floor, lying next to the love of his life, staring in horror as her insides spilled out, and he just gave up.
“The man just kept stabbing my father as he lay with my dead mom, until he was satisfied that he was gone. They took off their masks and walked around trashing the place. When the monster found me hiding, he had a sick smile plastered on his blood spattered face.
“I froze. I thought for sure they would do the same to me. Violent tremors rocked through me. The man got down on one knee, pulled out his bloodied dagger, and placed the point of it under my chin. He forced me to lift my head with it so I could look evil in the eyes. He asked if I was going to avenge my parents, or do nothing and hide like a pussy.
He then grabbed my hand and confidently placed the dagger that was soaked with my parents’ blood in my hands. He told me to do something about it. To avenge them. When I didn’t move, he mocked me, saying, ‘Yeah, that’s what I thought.” His cruel, sinister laugh echoed through the apartment, and has echoed in my ears every day after that. Always right below the surface. Edging me closer and closer to madness.”
Dominick blew out an intense breath, while the convict sat running his hands through his hair, shaking his head. He swore he caught a glimpse of a few tears making their escape, but they were expertly hidden behind his curtain of scraggly hair.
“I didn’t know he would do that. But that’s no excuse. I should have stopped him. I know I should’ve stopped him.” Dale chanted this a few more times, rocking back and forth.
Giddeon leapt at the man once more. “Shut the fuck up, you piece of shit!” He wanted to kill him, rip his flesh from his bones. He didn’t expect that he would come face to face with one of the men responsible for ending their lives and ruining his. Several officers burst through the door to help assist Dominick in containing the outraged man.
Dominick repeated over and over, “He didn’t do it. It was Dalton… Always Dalton. He ordered it, and the other man carried it out. We know now who it was. We just have to locate them... Giddeon, you finally know.”
The cuffed man never even flinched, not even when Giddeon was a mere inches from striking his face. “Let him go, Detective. I deserve all the wrath this boy has toward me. I deserve worse. Let him go. I won’t fight him.”
Giddeon stopped short at his spoken words. Staring at him, he realized that no matter how much he hated to admit it, Dominick was right. He wasn’t the one who took his parents from him.
From twisted man to twisted man, Giddeon could tell that he was speaking the truth about not knowing. Dalton had used Dale, just like he’d used so many others to get what he wanted. The other piece of shit was the leader. He was the monster Giddeon remembered. And he would find him. He wouldn’t stop until Dalton and that man were six feet under and rotting away. They were so close. It made him anxious to finally finish this. After all these years, Giddeon desperately needed to walk away from his torturous limbo he was stuck in and finally move on from it.
Dalton. How could he have done this? Why did he ask Giddeon to work side by side with him? He didn’t understand why he would watch an utterly destroyed, emotionally messed up kid grow up, and then ask him to work for the very man who murdered his parents. But, he would ask him… in person, right before he watched him take his last breath. Looking over at his partner, he gritted out almost inaudibly, “Get me the fuck out of here NOW, before I lose my shit, Detective.”
The cuffed man looked up, fina
lly meeting the man’s eyes whose boyhood face had haunted him his whole life. “I am truly sorry for every pain that we have caused you. I wish every single day that I could go back in time and change it, take it all back. I would in a heartbeat.”
Giddeon pointed his finger at him. “Don’t you dare think you’re off the hook. I will be back for you.”
The man nodded. “I know. And I’ll be waiting.”
Giddeon’s anger grew even more. He didn’t want him to be understanding. He didn’t want him to accept his fate without a fight, because that wouldn’t be the satisfying conclusion he’d always dreamed about. This was not at all how he thought this day would go, or how he’d expected a confrontation with one of the men would go. Giddeon was losing it bigtime. He had to get out of there quick; he needed to be alone where he could think. He desperately needed some perspective.
Giddeon told Dominick that he’d wait for him in the car. Dominick was relieved that he hadn’t asked him to leave with him, because he still wanted some information from Dale. Dominick would use this terrible realization to wring information from him while he was still willing to cooperate. “Dale, what was the other man’s name?”
The other man stared at the door Giddeon just left out of and responded, “Troy Wyndham. “
Dominick nodded. “Very good. Where can I find him?”
The man looked up at the detective. “I don’t know. I’ve been in here. But I’d bet he is still working for him. Dalton just loves the twisted ones. He is extremely anal, and if you found my file in his possession, I’d bet his is in there somewhere. That’s the best I can tell you. You have a name. All you need is the information. I could tell you where he liked to hang out, or places he liked to eat, but like I said before, I only pulled one job with him. I never wanted any of this. I’m just a thief, not a murderer. I’m not a murderer.”
Dominick watched him as he started chanting and rocking again. This was something that had obviously affected him because, since the moment he laid eyes on Giddeon, his demeanor had regressed immediately.
“All right, thank you for your cooperation. I’ll be back when I have him for your positive identification. I think it’s about time we give Giddeon back his life. Don’t you?” The withered man dropped his head in his hands, drowning in the memories of an unforgiveable past.
Dominick walked out of the holding cell. This had really knocked him on his ass. This was not at all what he was expecting would happen when they arrived. But, at least they had two names. One they knew, the other they hadn’t. Now, they just had to locate them both. Yeah, that was easier said than done. But, at least they were a few steps closer than when they started out that morning.
Developing a new sense of urgency in trying to locate Dalton, Dominick realized he was far more dangerous and ruthless than he had originally thought. He would go to Susan and offer her protection if she helped them out and disclosed where he was hiding. That is, if she even knew. He hoped to God that she did. The longer he was on the run, free, the more risk there was of someone else falling victim to the unstoppably evil man.
Taking his time walking to his car, the detective had half expected Giddeon’s ankle monitor to go off, but it never did. He sat in the passenger seat, staring ahead at nothing in particular. Once Dominick was in the car, Giddeon announced much too loudly for the tight space, “I need to go somewhere. It’s um, it’s really important. Please. Don’t ask me any questions, okay.”
Dominick was silent for a few minutes, then finally answered, “Where to?”
“215 North State Street.”
Once Dominick punched the address into his GPS and recognized where that was, he lifted an eyebrow. This man kept surprising him, in a good way. He hated that this kid kept growing on him. He was cut a raw deal in life. But, he didn’t want to forget his crimes altogether, just because he had compassion for him. He had to keep reminding himself that.
“All right, Giddeon, how long do you want to be there? I’ll punch it into the ankle monitor’s list of acceptable locations besides group.” Having no more will to speak, Giddeon just nodded, leaving the question unanswered.
It finally dawned on Dominick what day it was and the reason behind Giddeon’s odd request. “I’ll give you the day, all right? If you’re ready to go sooner, just call my cell.”
Giddeon walked through the massive cathedral doors of Saint John the Evangelist Catholic Church. Gripping his mother’s rosary, he marched halfway up the aisle and sat in a lovingly used pew. The church was thankfully quiet, its vacant state mirroring the emptiness that dwelled deep inside his aching chest. Bowing his head, Giddeon recited a few prayers from memory, begging for guidance, mercy, and forgiveness. He reflected on all the events leading up to his parents’ murders, the recent events that brought him there on his knees, and everything in between. His arms leaned on the pew in front of him, successfully hiding his face and the tears that trickled down into his five-o-clock shadow.
Today had been a devastating shock to his system. Old wounds ripped open in his chest, leaving him vulnerable and exposed for the world to see. Even after all this time had passed, the anguish was too much to bear. The boy who’d been left behind to suffer through all the traumatic aftermath, all alone, had been morphed into the very monster he was after. He never meant to turn into this heartless, uncaring thing.
He longed to wrap his arms around his mother and see the proud look that his father used to give when he taught him something new. Too much time had passed. His parents wouldn’t even recognize their own son, even if they were standing right there in front of him. He could almost sense their disgust at the vile, unfeeling animal he’d turned out to be.
The emotionally disturbed man was so tired of being stuck in limbo; Hell would be a vacation compared to the torment he’d suffered here on earth. Giddeon was tired of going it alone. He was tired of fighting. It was all just compensation for the one battle he should have fought. The only one that mattered all those years ago.
Giddeon sat on the hard wooden bench, surrounded by a sea of old tattered padding in the familiar cathedral. He’d always remembered it as full of people, full of life, and full of joy. Now, just like him, it resembled a dark, solemn, and hollowed out shell. He longed to feel the presence of their spirits in his heart, or sense their presence surrounding him. But he didn’t. He felt nothing. That was the worst of it all. Numbness. Nothingness.
Giddeon squeezed the rosary tighter as he whispered brokenly, “I’m so sorry I didn’t fight for you, Mama... I’m so sorry I didn’t protect her, Dad. Please, forgive me.” His chest caved in on itself like a heavy weight was crushing down on him. It was excruciating to breathe.
“The path I’ve been on has led me so far from you both, so far from what you taught me. Past demons have stolen my sanity. I’ve held on to anger and revenge for so long, I don’t know how else to be. Please. If you haven’t already turned your backs on me, help lead me onto the correct path. I don’t even know where that is anymore.” Giddeon marked the sign of the cross—head, chest, and shoulder to shoulder—before standing.
Forcing himself up on weak, unwilling legs, he made his way up to light a few candles in the front of the sanctuary. Lifting his weary head, he noticed a familiar blonde sitting a few pews up. He hadn’t noticed her when he first walked in. He sauntered up to where she sat and sidled in right next to her. She was deep in prayer. Her eyes were pinched shut. Something was worrying her.
He was tempted to reach out and smooth out the stress lines on her forehead with his thumb. She hadn’t even realized that someone had sat down directly next to her. It could’ve been the Devil himself, and she didn’t seem to care. Without even opening her eyes, she spoke up, “Hello, Giddeon. What are you doing here?”
The broken man cracked a smile which seemed to always be reserved for her. “How’d you know it was me, Angel?”
It was her turn to smile. The worry lines melted away, leaving behind flawless porcelain skin. When her eyes opened
, they reunited with Giddeon’s. She was taken aback by his appearance. He seemed to have aged ten years since his short time away from her. Her dark knight was withered, pale, and wore black circles under each eye. Even though he smiled, Eva could see the haunted look in his eyes. She wasn’t fooled; something significant had happened. She knew this look well. She had worn it so many times before, when she was moments away from giving up.
Eva finally answered Giddeon’s question after they both took time looking each other over. They both appeared a little worse for wear. “I could smell you before you even came near me. Your shampoo and soap together give you a certain smell that my senses picked up on.” That was kind of the truth, but really, her body sensed everything about him and automatically knew when he was close by. She was helplessly drawn to him and wasn’t really surprised that they’d ended up in the same place.
Even though Giddeon missed group that day, Eva prayed she’d still see him. The need to know he was doing okay grew as time ticked by at an agonizingly slow pace. Try as she might, she couldn’t NOT think about him. He was always in her thoughts, and she couldn’t help but be concerned for him when he was out of her sight. From the moment she woke until the time her head hit the pillow at night, this dark and broken man had claimed all her thoughts. He was holding on to such a gruesome, devastating past, and Eva was compelled to protect him from any further tragedies.
Giddeon stretched his arm out behind her on the back of the pew. “What are you doing here, Angel? Everything all right?” He ignored her very same question and threw it right back at her. He had to know that she was okay. She looked worried, like the weight of the world rested on her delicate shoulders. He knew very well what that was like, and he didn’t want her feeling that way. His Angel deserved nothing but happiness.
Beyond Redemption (Marked Series Book 2) Page 13
