by Terri Marie
Her eyes watered when she nodded.
"Well I'll take that as a yes then. I'll show you a really great time, and sweep you off your feet, under one condition." Jacob tried to keep a serious face.
"What condition?" Emma looked very concerned.
"You have to swear to me that you'll never make me speak at a Montclair function again. I have stage fright." He allowed a smile to spread across his face. Jacob offered his hand, and Emma accepted it. He gently pulled her down and kissed her lips, and when she stood back up, he found even more reasons to melt while he was near her.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
Robert was starving. Hopefully they'd bring him some dinner soon. Hospital food tasted like shit, but he'd ordered a couple of blueberry muffins that were prepackaged. The pork chops and mashed potatoes sounded pretty good, but his guess was that the cook was shitty too. He'd circled it on the menu anyway.
He found the television remote that the stupid nurse had moved. Finally, he could have some kind of normalcy back in his life. If he needed something, all he had to do was press this little red button. Robert doubted they'd bring him a couple of beers, though. He needed them now, especially after listening to the Old Hag across the hall, hack non-stop. She'd probably drop dead any second. It couldn't be soon enough as far as he was concerned. That Fossil was pissing him off. He should just go over there and put a bag over her head.
The channels were different than they were at home, so Robert had to surf through them all. He kept clicking, and after channel thirty-five, the shows were hospital infomercials. That pissed him right the hell off, even worse than the Fossil Fart did. Robert didn't need to lose weight, nor did he want to learn about diabetes. What a bunch of losers! He should smash the stupid remote, right up against the screen of that cheap ass television. "Oh you want a doctor and a television? That'll be five hundred bucks a minute!" Robert yelled, grateful that no one was in the hall.
He went back to the first channel, and tried one more time to find something to watch, that wasn't for preschoolers. It wasn't long before, right in front of his very eyes, there was a picture of himself. Robert quickly lowered the volume so nobody else could overhear the broadcast.
"…Robert Preston. He's a person of interest in a shooting involving three victims. Renee Preston, his wife, Jacob Montclair, the Senior Scientist at Montclair Pharmaceuticals, and a fourteen year old minor, are being treated at Castle Lake Memorial Hospital, and are listed in stable condition…"
Robert watched in shock as the stupid-looking male newscaster, stood in front of the hospital like an idiot. He had to get out of there. He went into the small locker by the bathroom, and pulled out a bag that had his clothes and shoes inside. He stuffed the bag under his gown, and turned left towards the stairwell.
"Mr. Smith? Do you need something? Asked Nurse Nosey.
Without bothering to turn around, Robert said "Just going for a walk to get some of this gas outta me."
"Okay, enjoy your walk. Your IV bag is almost gone, so I'll hang a new one when you get back. Put on your light when you return to your room."
Her shoes squeaked like a mouse that was being stepped on. Robert wanted to flip her off too. When the coast was clear, he pushed open the metal door, and closed it as quietly as he could. Robert grabbed the IV tubing between his teeth, and yanked the whole mess out of his hand. That part was easy; getting his clothes and shoes on, would not be.
With his high-tops untied, and holding his pants closed with his hand, Robert walked out of the side entrance of the hospital. He headed straight to his rental car complements of Ron the Cop. He couldn't believe that the Stupid Bitch was still alive. Jacob? Who the hell is that? Robert certainly didn't remember seeing any kids running around. Hell, fourteen isn't actually a kid, he told himself. Someone else popped that one, and they just wanted to blame it on him.
Robert pressed the front of his body up against the car door, to keep his pants from falling down, while he dug his keys out of his pocket. As he pulled out of the parking lot, he wanted to floor it, but couldn't risk being pulled over. Cops were like flies; irritating, numerous, and dirty. He thought about Ron the Cop and grinned.
Making his way back to the freeway was easy. He'd have to find another rinky-dink town and find a gas station and hardware store. This stupid cast was going to have to go. Robert looked over his shoulder at the backseat. There was his beautiful .22 Long Rifle. That's how stupid these hick people are up here. No one even noticed. He busted out laughing.
He'd have to stop at a payphone to call Ron the Cop and get some more money. He was willing to stay in Castle Lake as long as he had to. Once The Bitch was discharged, Robert would blow her brains out. All he had to do was find a big ass van driving around. That's how groups of people like them traveled…like old people going to a Big Fat Bingo party. What a bunch of freaks.
When he saw signs pointing toward a town called Wilky, Robert took the exit. Wilky. Who the hell names a town, Wilky? Sounds like Willy. Robert wanted to admire his quick wit for a while, but he had work to do.
Finding a hardware store was going to take too much time. Robert was busy looking up and down streets, when an old couple backed out of their driveway…right the hell in front of him. He had to slam on his brakes. Robert gave them a big ole salute with his middle finger, but the Old Crappers just shook their heads and drove away. Once they turned the corner, Robert got an idea. I wonder what the Casket Candidate has in his garage? Certainly he'd have some tools. He slowly pulled up between two houses and went around back. Luckily there was a privacy fence along the sides and the back of their shabby yard. Nothing like going unnoticed while you use your thick ass cast to bust the window out. Life is so easy peasy!
When Robert walked through the house to the garage, he spotted the neat row of saws, hanging on the wall on stupid yellow pegs. He hated that color. This was going to be tricky, but he wasn't about to cut his damn arm off. How could he possible aim his rifle then?
Robert's excitement grew when he found a nice Dremel tool in the Decrepit Geezer's cabinet, in the garage. He plugged it in and rested his arm on the tool bench. While he cut the stupid cast off, Robert had a sudden thought: I wonder who'll get to eat my blueberry muffins?
Chapter 7
Tyler walked past the lounge on his way to the cafeteria to buy some sandwiches for his brothers and Emma. It wasn't easy to get them to eat, but he really had no room to talk. He'd been neglecting his own basic needs as well. He was trying to stay focused on the day when they could all go home. Whenever that would be. The reality is, as long as Robert remains alive, they'd never be able to have a normal life. He spotted Vincent and Sean, sitting in the chairs over by the window.
"No one's with Brian. Emma's in Jacob's room. There's no screaming, so my guess is they're not trying to beat each other." Tyler was tempted to go to Brian's room, before taking the time to allow his brothers to respond.
"June's helping him get washed up. She said she'll come and get us when she's done," said Vincent.
"Okay. I was heading to the cafeteria to grab us something to eat. You guys want anything special?"
"Excuse us," said a voice coming from behind Tyler. It was the two detectives.
"Can we help you?" asked Vincent as he stood up.
"We have a small problem," Detective Delcan said as he glanced at his partner.
Vincent let out a sigh. "What's the problem? I think you guys have gotten all the information from us that we're able to give."
"We don't know how this happened, but the shooting was on the news. They mentioned the names of the victims, as well as naming Robert Preston as a person of interest," said Detective Joy.
"How the hell did that happen?!" Tyler spun around. "You realize that Robert now knows his wife is still alive!"
"That's not all. We'd put out a BOLO on Robert when we couldn't locate his body in the driveway, so we received a report of a fatality in Callaway, just outside of Castle Lake. A physician was shot in the n
eck by a .22. When the officers were searching for Robert's body, they collected three casings at the end of the driveway. They were also from a .22."
"Shit!" Sean put his hands on his hips and shook his head.
"After the broadcast, a physician contacted the police in Maryville about a patient who matched the description of Robert Preston. Apparently, the reporters found his driver's license photo and ran it in the story." Detective Delcan thumbed through his notes.
"So he's at the hospital? Have someone arrest him for God's sake!" yelled Tyler. He was beyond livid.
"He left. They don't have an exact time for when he walked out, but the police are reviewing the security camera footage from the hospital and the parking lot. Hopefully we can get a license plate number."
"So now what? You do know he's going to show up here to finish the job, right?" Tyler glared at the detectives.
"At this point, we know he's armed and dangerous. Because the news broadcasted the identity and the location of the victims, several people could be injured, or worse, should he decide to come in here shooting. We could move everyone to a different hospital, but if that information got leaked, we'd be in the same predicament. The point I'm trying to make, is that none of you are safe at the moment." Delcan scratched his head and tightened his jaw.
"So what do we do?" asked Vincent, impatiently.
"I've contacted the hospital administrator. As soon as he gives us the go ahead, we're going to move you guys up to the sixth floor. Security is extremely thick, covering all entrances and exits, as well as the elevators and stairwells. There'll be four additional police officers on this unit. No one will be allowed to come in without being stopped and I.D.'d. For now, I can't allow any of you to leave the floor. We'll have an officer get you whatever you need." Detective Joy stared at each of them.
"He'll come here," warned Tyler. "You think the cops can stop Robert, but he has several of them in his hip pocket."
Detective Delcan's cellphone rang. "One second." He held up his finger and answered the call. "Delcan…Are you sure?...Yeah, what is it?" The detective wrote something down in his notepad before hanging up. "That was the lieutenant in Maryville. They have video footage of Robert exiting the hospital and climbing into a dark blue sedan. A camera captured the license plate number, which belongs to a rental car. They're on their way to the agency to find out more information. It's possible he's dumped the car and rented a new one by now."
"So we remain targets. That man needs to be in the ground," mumbled Tyler.
"I know you're upset. We aren't too happy either, but we're working hard to find out who leaked the case to the media." Detective Joy replied.
"I'll be back. I have to let everyone know what's going on," said Tyler as he turned to leave the lounge. It was imperative that the officers guarding Jacob, Renee, and Brian, as well as the staff, knew that if they screwed up, there'd be hell to pay. Brian's room was closest, so he headed there first. It took everything in him not to lose it when he saw the empty chair in the hallway. He hoped the cop wasn't harassing Brian.
Just as Tyler was ready to knock on the door, he heard voices coming from the kid's room. He quietly cracked open the door and peered inside.
"You ungrateful little shit! Everything we've done for you, and you take off without a word! You have no idea how much you've embarrassed us! I'll make this promise to you, ya little worthless asshole. When you get discharged, I'm going to make you pay for our troubles! You're going to learn this lesson real quick like. When I'm able to get my hands on you, I'll kill you!" The middle aged man had Brian's gown knotted up in his fist, pulling him off the pillow so he was two inches from the kid's frightened face. The man was growling at him, just low enough so the sound wouldn't filter into the hallway.
"Calm down, Hank, he isn't worth it," said the woman with him.
Without even thinking, Tyler ran in the room, and slammed his body into the man, knocking him into the wall from behind.
"Get the hell off of me!" the man yelled.
"You're not going to touch him you son of a bitch!" Tyler screamed in his face.
All of a sudden, Sean and Vincent were prying him off of the man.
"Let go of him, Ty," demanded Vincent. "Brian, are these your parents?"
"Yeah. Meet Hank and Shirley Waters." Brian was shaking uncontrollably, sending Tyler into a deeper rage.
"Yo, Tyler. Come on man." Sean pulled him away. "I think you two need to leave," he glared at Brian's parents.
"Where in the hell is the cop that was supposed to be sitting outside?!" Tyler could feel his blood pressure hitting the roof.
June and a tech came running through the door. "What's going on in here?" she demanded.
"I thought you were going to let us know when you were finished helping Brian. Why didn't you?" Sean was talking through his teeth.
"When I was finished, the detectives pulled me aside. I'm really sorry. Who are you?" June asked the couple.
"We're Brian's parents. I'm Hank, and this is my wife, Shirley. We'd like an update on our son's condition." Hank ran his hand over his short blond hair and adjusted his shirt.
"You're not going to know shit! You hear me?" Tyler yelled while pointing at the man.
Finally, a police officer appeared in the doorway, along with the two detectives.
"What's all the yelling about?" asked Detective Delcan.
"These two individuals are Brian's abusive parents. They're why he ran away. I heard his father, Hank Waters, threatening to beat and kill him. I'd like to make a report!" Tyler sounded out of breath. "It bothers me greatly, that they were able to walk in here without anyone knowing. If they can do it, so can Robert!"
"I'll help you make the report, Tyler," began Brian with a determination in his voice. "I'm not afraid of either of you anymore," he said as he stared down at his covers.
Tyler could tell the kid was petrified and unable to stand up against them. That was okay, though, because the Montclairs were ready to be his voice.
"Step outside with the officer," said Detective Delcan to Brian's parents.
Hank and Shirley walked by Brian and Tyler and smiled. Tyler wanted to sock him in the face. He stared them down until they left the room.
"I'll be back in a few minutes, Brian. When you're finished, put your call light on," directed June, as she followed his parents out the door, closing it behind her.
"Brian, were you threatened?" asked Detective Delcan.
"Yeah, I was. He grabbed the front of my gown and said he'd beat my ass when I got home, and kill me. He meant it, trust me." Brian's face reddened and his eyes began to water.
"Were they abusive?" asked Detective Joy.
"You could say that," Brian sheepishly replied.
"Is that why you ran away?" Detective Delcan's eyes narrowed.
"If I didn't take off, I wouldn't have lived. I'm a thousand times safer on the streets than I am with my own parents." Brian finally lifted his face to meet the detective's eyes.
Tyler saw the pain written all over the kid's face. When his body tightened, he felt Vincent's hand on his shoulders.
"What happened when you lived with them?" Detective Joy asked as he slid his hands into his pant pockets.
Brian looked down at his covers again. He remained silent.
"I know this is difficult for you, Brian," explained Vincent. "But we can't do anything unless you report them. We're here for you, okay? We won't go anywhere."
"Don't be afraid," said Tyler with more calm in his voice than he truly felt. "Start from the beginning."
"I'll tell them, but you guys can't be here." Brian looked at them.
"You want us to leave you alone with the detectives?" asked Vincent.
"Brian—" began Tyler, who was against leaving the boy alone.
"I appreciate everything you guys have done for me--" he began before he stopped himself.
"We're family," said Sean. "It'll be alright. We’re not going to let them come near you again."
"I know you won't." Brian turned his face away.
"Child abuse is something very serious, and we don't tolerate it. Now, I can't make a report without knowing the details. Let's start out with your earliest memories." Detective Delcan clicked his pen.
"Can we talk in private?" asked Brian.
"Yes, but are you sure you wouldn't like for one of your friends to stay with you?" asked Detective Joy.
"I'm his legal counsel. I'll stay," offered Vincent.
"Guys, I've never felt so much love in my life, and you're right. I really do feel like you're my real family. I need you to understand that it's not a good idea for you to be in here. It's not that I don't want the support, but there are just some things," Brian paused for a moment. "That you really don't want to hear."
Tyler felt his heart drop to his feet. He had no choice but to leave. Vincent and Sean were waiting for him by the door. He walked slowly over to Brian, and gently hugged him, while whispering in his ear. "We got this. You hear me?"
"We got this," replied Brian with a distant note to his voice.
Tyler could tell that the boy's mind was already a million miles away. He followed his brothers out of the room, and closed the door. He knew that whatever the kid had to tell the detectives was bad. Real bad. All he could think of was a younger version of Brian, having to run for his life. As he was walking down the hall with Sean and Vincent, he spotted Hank and Shirley sitting in the lounge, looking smug. Before his brothers could stop him, Tyler walked up to the lowlifes. "Lawyer up assholes. You're going to prison."
Vincent grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down the hall. "Tyler, I know you, just like us, want to knock the shit out them, but this is something the cops need to handle. You're going to have to stay away from Hank and Shirley Waters."
"I swear to God, Vinnie…" Tyler threatened.
