Joker (Executioners Book 2)

by J. M. Dabney

  “Damn right, she has friends in very low places, ones that make me look like a sweetheart. She worked as a public defender and a defense attorney for a long time. Peaches didn’t survive with her client list without being tough.”

  He smiled as Jackson fell to the side and stared up at the ceiling. Jackson’s hands scrubbed over his face.

  “So, we’re safe in assuming, you’re fucked right now?”

  “So fucked. And everyone will know I’m home because my asshole friends are gossips.”

  “Want me to go make coffee?”

  “No.” Jackson rolled over and laid his arm over him. “Stay. I’m safe until at least noon.”

  He placed his arm over Jackson’s and laced their fingers together.

  “Tell me about your trip.”

  Jackson did, and he laid there listening, shaking his head. Jackson needed a keeper, and it was a good thing he was up to the task.

  FIFTEEN

  She Might Be Alive

  She might be alive—those words went through Jackson like an high-voltage shock. He’d never thought he’d hear that. Over the years, he had wished for her to be at peace whether that was alive or dead. He didn’t say a word as he looked across the conference room table at Trenton Security Headquarters.

  Peaches and Pure had a file open in front of them. Pure was a mind-bending physical contradiction to the woman beside him. Pure was huge, broad with tanned skin free of ink. Peaches was covered in ink from her neck down, in a power suit the woman was a force to be reckoned with in court; Peaches was just a force. Pure was one of those guys while built on a massive scale, he had a softness to him that showed his gentle giant nature. Boyish, All-American looks, the type to grace the covers of magazines. They were an odd pair but worked together a majority of the time. Pure was careful with his words and Peaches would throat punch you with the truth.

  “Joker, do you want to know? This is your choice,” Peaches asked.

  Dem’s fingers tightened through his, and he took a deep breath as he debated whether he wanted to know or not. Two weeks passed since he’d come home. Dem and him seemed to be doing okay. An uncomfortable strain existed, but he knew he needed to earn Dem’s trust. It was second nature for him to run to his shack, hop on his bike and head to parts unknown. No one ever worried about him or thought about where he went, yet now he had Dem.

  “Why did y’all look in the first place?”

  “Peaches came to me several weeks ago.” Pure cleared his throat and slid the file in front of him. “I visited Pelter and checked cold cases. There were no body dumps that matched your mother’s general description in anyway. Then I checked into long-term patients in mental health facilities, mainly voluntary check-ins. I focused on Georgia. Since your mother didn’t have any sort of transportation or funds that we knew of. To be on the safe side, I widened the search to all neighboring states. For nineteen-eighty-seven I got forty-odd hits. I narrowed those down by calling and getting a description. I knocked it down to ten.

  “I felt it necessary to ask your permission to continue. Peaches was adamant about finding her, but this is a choice you need to make. Thirty years has gone by, if one of the ten turns out to be Mary, then there’s a reason she committed herself.”

  “Out of the ten, how many—”

  Peaches answered when he couldn’t finish the question. “All had suicide related incidences. One had a severe mental break. One has cases of Catatonia between brief lucid periods. There’s one patient who’s so adverse to touch that she has a psychotic break every time someone even passes too close to her. She’s been deemed a danger to herself and others, her voluntary status was removed when she attacked one of the orderlies.”

  “The last one, do you have her file?”

  Pure shifted and leaned back in his chair. “We don’t have files, Joker, we asked some questions saying we worked for an investigative agency and a son was looking for his mother who disappeared around the time of admittance.”

  “And how did you get all this information,” Dem asked.

  “We may have used Joker’s psychiatric report to outline possible symptoms and behaviors, to do a comparison of diagnoses.” Peaches stared across the table at them.

  “You thought since I was fucked up, she’d be similar?”

  Peaches didn’t pull any punches, “Yeah, that was the thought.”

  “I want to visit the last one.”

  “Joker, I don’t think—”

  “Fuck what you think, Pure, give me the address.”

  Joker knew it was her, the last one. If she was committed, it would explain why she hadn’t come back. He couldn’t be angry with her for leaving. He didn’t know if that would change when he saw her. She had left him with Garnet knowing what the bastard was.

  He snatched the paper up when Peaches slid it across the table. He stared at it, there was no name or physical description.

  “Road trip?”

  “Do I get to ride on your bike again?”

  Dem seemed excited by the idea. He hadn’t taken Dem out again for a ride even though he’d contemplated the idea a time or two. With the way things were between them since his last disappearance, he’d become increasingly careful which was unlike him.

  “I think I can do that.”

  “I want a nice hotel, though.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Fine, no camping beside the road for you, all high-maintenance and shit.”

  “Damn right.”

  He couldn’t miss the stares he received from Peaches and Pure. Peaches had known him longer, but Pure knew him almost as well. The sight of him holding someone’s hand or catering to their whims had to be a stretch.

  “You did just fine out at the shack.”

  “Road trip or not?”

  “Road trip.”

  “Joker, I think you should wait until we know more.” Peaches leaned her forearms on the table.

  “What’s waiting going to fucking get me? Nothing. If it’s her, it’s her.”

  “Joker, I just don’t want you to get your hopes up and it not be her.”

  “No hopes here.” That was partially true. He’d given up on the dreams of his mother coming back into his life decades ago, but if there was even a slight chance, he had to take it.

  “Maybe you and Dem going away for a few days would be good for y’all.”

  Peaches’ grin annoyed him to no end. She was as bad as Lily and Twitch with their incessant need to pair people off. Just because they were insanely happy didn’t mean a happily ever after existed for everyone. Especially not him, he understood in his gut that he lived on borrowed time with Dem.

  “Quit playing matchmaker,” he ordered.

  “I can do what I damn well please.”

  He released Dem’s hand and stood, he didn’t volunteer to help Dem. The man used his crutches to stand.

  “Joker, promise me, if you need me don’t hesitate to call like you did in Virginia.”

  “They didn’t book me.”

  “Doesn’t matter, call me.”

  He nodded then followed behind Dem toward the door. They could be maybe hours or a day away from finding his mother. Would she look at him and see Garnet? No matter how many times he looked in the mirror, he’d always seen Garnet. Garnet had gotten rid of all pictures of Mary; he didn’t remember what his mother looked like. Was there even a bit of her in him?

  Dem called his name, and he glanced toward him.

  “We can wait, let Peaches and Pure dig a bit more.”

  “No, I want to know.”

  “Okay, we’ll go.”

  They made their way to his truck in silence. He forced open the passenger side door and left Dem to get inside on his own. He liked Dem’s independence. The man demanded basic things from him, a show of affection, the truth, but didn’t attempt to cling or change him overnight. He doubted his personality and dysfunctions would change in the months or years to come. At almost forty, he was what he was, and he was comfortable with it.
<
br />   The part of him that still bore some murky optimism wished he had years to come, but he wasn’t ready yet to give in to that sliver of light he’d ruthlessly tried to extinguish.

  SIXTEEN

  That Was Frightening

  The Waterford Institute was almost surreal. He’d never seen or assumed a mental facility would look like some country manor from fairy tales. The sweet scent of flowers clung to a gentle breeze. The lawn was impeccably kept, if not for the high fence and guardhouse at the gate, no one would assume. Jackson had been unusually quiet since they’d stopped for dinner and then found a room for the night.

  The ride was amazing, but his body paid for it, and he’d been thankful Jackson hadn’t insisted on pushing forward.

  He turned to see Jackson staring up at the building.

  “Mr. Webb, are you here about our Jane Doe?”

  A pretty, petite woman in a doctor’s jacket over a simple sundress approached. The woman didn’t look old enough to be a doctor.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “I’m Dr. Savari, I’m the Chief Facility Manager and only full-time doctor on staff here. Could we talk out here a moment? I’ve been in my office all morning.”

  He heard Jackson grumble, and he stepped forward.

  “That’s fine, I’m Demetri Urban, Jackson’s partner.”

  Savari held out her hand with a bright smile on her face.

  “Pleasure to meet you.”

  Her grip was firm and confident, and he liked the doctor. He wasn’t so sure what Jackson thought of her, but the man still didn’t like many people. He doubted his man liked him most of the time.

  “Well, let me explain to you about Jane. I took over Waterford about a decade ago. It took me about a year, but I familiarized myself with every patient. Jane has been a challenge to say the least.”

  Savari motioned to a nearby group of benches.

  They took a seat on one, and she sat facing them on the other.

  “What challenges?”

  It didn’t seem Jackson was going to say much.

  “From her lengthy file, she came to us and admitted herself, but wouldn’t provide us with a name. Thirty years ago, standards of care were lax if I should say. That’s neither here nor there. She didn’t exhibit any violent tendencies, although, she was prone to self-harm. One such incident almost led to a supposed suicide attempt, but from reading her file, I didn’t feel that was her intention.

  “I’ve examined her at length over the years…she’s covered in scars and most of them couldn’t have come from being self-inflicted. I noted in her file that she was a victim of past torture and abuse. She speaks very little.”

  “But we were told her voluntary commitment became involuntary.” Jackson remained stiff, and his hands were clenched on his thighs.

  Dem knew better than to touch him right now. His man was on the edge.

  “Yes, sad event and to be honest completely unnecessary to change her status. There was an orderly who took liberties—”

  “You mean he fucked the patients.”

  Savari flinched. “Yes, in some cases the patients were catatonic. One night, he decided to go after Jane. She attempted to disembowel him with a knife from her dinner tray.”

  “What happened to him,” Jackson growled.

  “His improper behavior was discovered, he was fired and charged with several crimes. As far as I know, he’s still in jail.”

  “Don’t think about it, Jackson,” he warned.

  “I wasn’t thinking anything.”

  “Don’t make me warn Peaches. Please continue.”

  The doctor appeared more than a little uncomfortable.

  “Yes, well, Jane has an almost psychotic aversion to touch, and for a woman of her stature, she’s extremely strong. It takes several orderlies just to subdue her. Could I ask what the nature of your visit is? I’m interested for the fact that Jane, despite her reclusive behavior, she’s a rather sweet woman and I would love for her to find her family. This isn’t the place for her. Yes, we have a wonderful facility, and I’ve done my best to make our guests as comfortable as possible, though, I sense her issues stem from trauma more than any mental health issue that can be managed with meds.”

  “She’s my mother.”

  “Oh, I should’ve known.” Her face brightened. “Now that I’ve looked closer, you look remarkably like her.”

  “She was raped at thirteen, forced to marry the fucker, and I came along.”

  “As contrived as it sounds, I’m very sorry.”

  “I want to see her.”

  “Of course, I must warn you though, she doesn’t take well to surprises. Go slow. Don’t touch her. And whatever you do, don’t come up behind her without announcing yourself.”

  It was inappropriate, but he smiled at the extremely familiar warnings. He was curious what a female version of Jackson would look like.

  “Why weren’t the authorities brought in when she committed herself,” he asked.

  “There’s notes that an official investigation was requested, although, since there were no missing persons who fit her description, it was a fruitless inquiry. Please, follow me, she’ll be in the back gardens about this time. She prefers her space and quiet.”

  She stood, and they followed.

  “Will you two be joining her for lunch?”

  He glanced at Jackson in time to catch the man’s stiff nod.

  He’d seen Jackson pissed off, cold and calculated, but the man was tense and devoid of emotion. He wondered if this was the man Jackson’s friends knew him as, and he hadn’t noticed it before.

  “Very good, please, follow me.”

  He trailed behind the doctor as Jackson brought up the rear. It was a slow trip through the building, Savari stopped here and there to address patients she passed, even the ones who didn’t acknowledge her. The place smelled clean. The interior bright and cheery, art graced the walls, and there even seemed to be groups of pictures of the patients at different holidays or functions. If this was all due to Savari, it appeared she’d done a great job.

  Once they exited a back door and stopped on a stone patio, she stepped aside, and he noticed a small figure on a metal bench in the middle of a garden paradise. Her head tipped back, and her long, dark hair was braided down her back.

  He turned to find Jackson’s frozen in the doorway, so he moved to the side.

  “Jackson, do you want me to go with you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll remain here until I know she’s calm, then I’ll leave you two to visit with her.”

  Jackson preceded him which told him the man wasn’t all there. Yes, Jackson gave him his back on occasion, but not without Jackson preparing himself first. They took the ramp off the side of the patio and slowly approached.

  Once they were within six feet of her, Jackson spoke.

  “Mary?”

  The woman gasped and jumped from the bench, she faced them with her hands clenched into tiny fists. At that distance, he noticed how fragile she appeared, but he didn’t assume anything. Jackson and her weren’t an exact match, but their eyes, hair, and features were remarkably similar.

  “I thought you were fucking dead.”

  “Jack, you shouldn’t be here,” Mary’s voice was high-pitched with fear, and she looked as if she was ready to run.

  “I. Thought. You. Were. Fucking. Dead.”

  Each word enunciated with growing rage.

  “You weren’t supposed to find me.”

  Not exactly the mother-son reunion he expected.

  “Does he know—”

  “He’s dead.”

  “When?” she asked.

  He noticed her body started to relax and her fists unclenched.

  “Twenty-two years ago, I killed him.”

  She backed up, and he wanted to reach out to Jackson, yet he knew it wouldn’t be welcomed.

  “Do you want to know why?”

  He was thankful they’d left Killer at the motel, or they
’d have one very pissed off dog on their hands when Joker ripped his sweatshirt and t-shirt over his head.

  “Eight years I lived alone with that motherfucker, I endured every strike of his whip, every burning end of a cigar or cigarette, every, fucking, hit.”

  The early afternoon sun shined off every scar, played in the dips and bumps. His eyes burned, he’d seen them in muted light, caught sight of them in firelight and streetlight, but never full out in the daytime. He’d felt the sections where flesh was removed due to infection. Kissed every scar he was allowed to, but only the one night, the night where they’d had sex for the first and last time.

  He flinched as Mary surged forward, and he waited for her to touch Jackson, but she didn’t. Her small, shaking hands stayed an inch from Jackson’s skin. They followed the contours, paused on the worst of them.

  “Jack…” She cleared her throat. “I tried to kill him. I stood over him as he slept. I had the gun in my hand. My mind played out every time he touched me. The times he held me down, let his father hold me down. I cocked the gun, and he woke up. He used me the rest of the night, told me over and over he’d kill you.”

  “I read your journals.”

  She raised her hands to his face, again kept that minuscule amount of space between their skin.

  “I loved you more than anything, even—”

  “Even though I was—”

  “There was nothing wrong with you, Jack. There was something wrong with Garnet and the other men in his family.”

  “I’m one of the men in the Webb family, so I’m just as fucked up as them.”

  “No way you were like them. If you read my diaries then you know I couldn’t have loved you more.”

  “Then why?”

  Mary and Jackson stood facing each other, not moving away or getting closer, just stared into each other’s eyes. He didn’t know why, but he felt Mary still loved her son. She’d thought she’d done the right thing, even if she hadn’t said it yet.

  “I went to my parents for help several times, and they always took me back. I begged them to take you. To keep you safe. They said it was the husband’s right to discipline his wife. I wasn’t a good woman. I seduced him, and I was paying for my sin.”