The Vigilante

by Ramona Forrest

  Her tortured mind swirled with worry. I wonder how much of this crazy stuff would be safe to tell, if I ever dare to? He’s certainly known enough sorrow of his own, and he always knows when things aren’t right. He’s a nurse, too. Maybe he’d understand, but I can’t say anything, not yet. Bob’s no fool, but who on earth would understand an alter personality?

  CHAPTER 12

  Martha felt like she barely knew what she was doing. “A ship without an anchor, that’s me. Will I crash against the sharp rocks of insanity?” She laughed aloud at her quandary.

  After extensive research about Dissociative Identity Disorder, Martha knew her past held the answers—terrible answers she dreaded to learn. An added sorrow that shocked her and hurt deeply was that her parents had not protected her. This painful heartache made her wonder how many other hapless children dared not tell their parents what was happening. Small children were often forced to suffer the horrors of abuse, alone, terribly afraid, with no one to turn to. This new knowledge made facing the next appointment a greater anxiety, unlike anything she’d ever known or imagined.

  She hadn’t taken a shift in two weeks fearing for the safety of her patients. They deserved a nurse who had her head screwed on straight, didn’t they? The sound of the doorbell nearly made her jump out of her skin.

  With racing heart, she met Bob at the door, a warm smile across her lips as she flung it open wide.

  Try though she might, she knew her eyes betrayed a deeper misery she couldn’t hide. Clearly unable to miss the depth of her distress, he hugged her and laughed. “All right, lady, what’s going on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re all tied in knots again, girl, have been for several weeks. Right now it’s worse than ever, and I can see it. You can tell me anything, you know that.” He held her out from him, looking deep into her eyes. “Does it have to do with those purple spots on your arm, a few weeks ago? It’s okay if you can’t tell me. Just know I’m here for you.”

  Martha wanted to sink through the floor. “I don’t really know how I got those, Bob. I just woke up with them on my arm one morning. It really has me worried—I’d tell you if I knew.”

  She didn’t mention the time lapses, or the psychiatrist, however, and certainly not the oversexed high-legged boots. She uttered a weak, tinny, little laugh and held her hands out in a helpless gesture. “Think I’m looney, huh?”

  “No way, lady. Let’s go eat, I’m starved, okay?” He ushered her to his vehicle, touching her waist as he helped her in. She felt damned good. Lately, touching her occupied a good bit of his mind. He was a patient man. In time, he’d know everything about her, and he wasn’t worried. For some reason, he felt he understood her without knowing what the hell bothered the woman. He’d wait and help her when that time came. Am I falling in love? he often wondered.

  Again, when their evening was over, he kissed her at the door, but she didn’t invite him in. Bob thought she wanted to get closer, maybe wanted him, but some inner secret or sinister darkness held her back. He left her and drove away chuckling softly to himself. “Someday we’ll get together. When we do, look out, lady. I’m ready, oh so damned ready!”

  ***

  “How are Will’s treatments going?” Martha asked. She’d come to take the boy for another lunch at Biggie’s Burgers.

  “I wish I knew, mom. Sometimes I believe his reaction to things, when you take him to eat, gives us a better picture. He still won’t ask his regular playmates to come over and I’ve noticed a subtle reluctance on the part of some mothers to have their children here. For heaven’s sake, being attacked by a monster like Callahan isn’t something that rubs off on anyone,” Jeannie said, her pretty face tensed with frustration.

  Seeing her out flung hands, Martha tried to placate her. “Who knows how anyone will react. People are frequently put off by someone who has suffered tragic circumstances. Perhaps they feel guilty it didn’t happen to them, or maybe they actually feel some of the evil karma might rub off. I don’t know, Jeannie.”

  Just then Will came rushing up to Martha’s side. “Grammy, we goin’ to Biggie’s?” His excited face turned upward, urging her to take him.

  Martha saw with delight, the excitement in the little boy’s eyes. “Sure we are, Will. Get your red jacket and we’ll go.” She raised her eyebrows in silent surprise to Jeannie. “How about that? At least this particular outing seems to help his mood. Thank the good Lord for that, anyway.”

  “Mom, thanks for taking him. It helps so much.” Jeannie helped her young son into the safety seat, fastened the straps, and kissed him goodbye.

  As they drove away, Martha asked, “How are you today, Will?” She glimpsed her grandson in the rearview mirror, hoping for the continued excitement he’d shown.

  His little face contorted in confusion. “Oh, Grammy, sometimes I see bad things at night. A big, soft thing chases me and I can’t get away.”

  In that instant, Martha caught a glimpse of deep sadness and fear on her grandson’s face. The now familiar blind rage swept over her again and she barely managed a reply. “Yes, Will, those are dreams, and we all have them, but they are never real. Remember that. I had them as a child, too. Nothing is chasing you when you wake up, is it? Your daddy and mommy are right there waiting. You know, Will, when I was a child, a train used to come off the tracks and chase me all over our fields. It never caught me, though.”

  “I know. They don’t catch me, either, Grammy, but they make me real scared. Sometimes I don’t have bad things after me, I just think about bad stuff.”

  Martha thought about asking him to tell her about his frightening dreams and thoughts, but feared complicating matters with Will’s therapist. What to do? She didn’t know and didn’t take him further into it. She breathed a sigh of relief when they arrived at the brightly colored Biggie’s.

  After eating Will headed toward the play area. This time, more at ease, he removed his sneakers, put them in the bin, and joined in with several others his size. They ran and played happily for a while and Martha relaxed, enjoying the happy sight of Will playing normally.

  Suddenly Will came shrieking to Martha’s side. “Grammy, that big boy is here again!” He looked up at her with tear-filled eyes and she hated the fear and cowardice he displayed. He looked like a whipped puppy as she reached out and took him in her arms.

  “Has he hurt you, Will?”

  “No, but he might hurt me. I want to go home now—please, Grammy?”

  Not knowing what other course to follow, Martha helped him on with his shoes then took his hand to lead him from the play area, but she halted when they saw the bullying child shove another boy smaller than himself.

  That little guy stood his ground and refused to move. He took a swing and punched the bully in the face. Will watched the incident with rapt attention. He tensed as he saw the startled bully take on an astonished mien, begin crying, and run to his mother. The boy’s nose dripped blood and mucus down the front of his shirt.

  Silently, Martha thanked all the luck gods in heaven that her beaten, whipped-puppy grandson, had witnessed a small boy standing up for his rights. Hoping it would influence him in the future, she muttered softly, “A bit bloody maybe, but that is a definite reality he’ll have to face on his own one day. I’ll let Jeannie know what happened. She can inform the psychologist about the incident if she feels it’s necessary.”

  “Grammy, was it okay for that little boy to hit back?”

  “Some people might say it wasn’t, but I don’t think that bully will bother that boy again.” She smiled at Will via the rear view mirror. He might have internalized what he’d seen, but only time would tell what effect it might have on him.

  Will entered the house and ran to his mother relating everything he’d seen. “Mommy, the little boy hit that big boy back and made blood run right out of his nose!” His eyes sparkled and shone with the telling. “That big boy won’t push that little boy again, will he, Mommy?”

  Jeanni
e couldn’t miss the gleam in her young son’s eyes. “He did! No, Will, he’ll stay away from that boy, I’m sure of that. What did you think about that, Will?” She looked at Martha, cautious optimism lurking in her eyes at this new development.

  “Well, if he gets near me again, I’m going to beat him up!” Will sounded as if he welcomed the challenge, even looked forward to it.

  “Will, you know we don’t look for trouble,” Jeannie said. “You’ll remember that, won’t you?”

  “Yes, but that boy needs a good fight. He does, Mommy!” With that, Will ran into the den, took his box of Legos, threw them all over the floor, and kicked the box they came in.

  “Oh God, Mom, what next?” Jeannie’s jaw tightened in anger. “Everything affects him so strangely. Will he turn to violence, now?”

  “Inform his doctor about this,” Martha replied. “It may be a normal reaction under the circumstances. They say violence begets violence. I’m afraid I don’t know enough about these things, but I already know more than I ever wanted to know about violence against children. This nightmare just keeps on, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, it does! I want to get away from this city so much! I’ve spoken to Martin and he isn’t against the idea.”

  Jeannie’s tears kept flowing and once again, Martha felt the raging anger come over her. “I can’t blame you for wanting to leave this city where so much has happened. Of course, if you did move, I’d not be far behind. But remember, these things happen everywhere, you know that.”

  “Yes, I know, but with Martin gone to Denver so much, it’s a natural move, or would be for us.”

  Martha considered Jeannie’s words. “You’re right about moving, I guess. And too, maybe I shouldn’t keep taking Will to the same Biggie’s Burgers where he’ll meet that bully. But then, we can’t run forever, either.”

  “No Mom, we can’t run from everything. We never can.” Jeannie seemed to shrug off her anger. She squared her shoulders and straightened her body. “If anyone knows how evil it is to suffer from child predators, it’s us.”

  “Oh, Jeannie.”

  Martha hugged her daughter warmly and turned to leave. She drove home, wondering if taking her young grandson out so often was a good idea and knew instantly that was not the answer. The child needed to get out of the house. It would require more thought, and her mind felt clogged with the events of the day.

  She needed time and distance to sort things out. And then, she’d see the psychiatrist again in the morning. She groaned in despair. “God, help me, I really am going out of my mind. I need to run away—I am so afraid of what I might learn!”

  She drove past a strange little house on a side street. It looked familiar to her, but why? God, where do I go, and what do I do when I’m someone else?”

  Her alter did things she knew nothing of, Martha mused, remembering the unfamiliar purse and those horrid boots!

  In her driveway, she put her head against the steering wheel in despair. “All this is making me exhausted. I can’t trust myself to work, and now, someone else is running my body when I don’t need it! So where will all this end?” A few futile tears escaped and ran down her cheeks.

  She entered her garage, her home and, tired out of her mind, showered and sought her bed. Drifting into fitful sleep, she saw someone standing over her with arms upraised. Startled awake, her heart racing, she saw no one there. “Now, I’m seeing ghosts!”

  She crawled out of bed and snapped on the tube. “Hmmph, nothing to watch but Jay Leno tonight. Good for laughs, that’s for sure.” She fixed a bowl of Cheerios with milk. “Maybe the tryptophan in milk will help. That amino acid is supposed to make you drowsy.” She knew it could and enjoyed the taste of the oats.

  She pondered what must have happened to her as a child. “I don’t want to think about it! Why didn’t my folks watch out for me?” Heartsick at those thoughts, she turned her mind to a recent book she’d bought. “At least I remember buying it.” She laughed at herself and began to read. Finding it dull, she tossed it across the room. “So much for that trash. Maybe my alter had something to do with my buying this crap. Can’t say I care much for her taste.”

  Later, she helped herself to another sleep-aid and tried it again. Drifting off, she again, vaguely sensed someone standing beside the bed but slept nevertheless, her extreme fatigue finally winning out. Tossing and turning, her dreams turned to nightmares, and she awoke with a silent scream on her lips.

  CHAPTER 13

  Ryan entered the ER seeking more detailed information. He introduced himself to the triage nurse. “If you have a moment, I have a few questions. Perhaps you or one of your other doctors could help me out. I’d like to get more input from your staff regarding the morning they brought in a recent trauma patient, Fred Callahan.”

  “Okay, sir, I’ll call one of the docs.” Punching a button, she made a call.

  In short order, a doctor appeared. “Yes, sir, I am Dr. Graves. How may I help you?”

  “I’d like to speak personally to anyone who took care of the man injured in this vigilante-type attack a few weeks past. I believe you know the one I mean.” Ryan cleared his throat. They all knew the man he referred to.

  “Oh yes, who could forget that case? So that’s what you’re calling it then, a vigilante attack?” Dr. Graves grimaced. “I was on duty the morning they brought him in, sad state of affairs for that poor soul—very mutilated.”

  “Great, maybe you could help us out with our investigation in this case. And yes, we’re leaning toward the possibility of a vigilante of sorts. Tell me what you remember, doctor, of the man, mutilated in this particular manner.” Ryan frowned. “We have the gentian violet stains, large boot tracks, and some other forensic findings. We believe the perpetrator may be in the medical field since he or she used medical supplies on the victim. We consider long sanitary napkins and purple liquid to be in line with a medically trained person. Maybe an EMT, nurse, aide, or doctor. We’d like to get a medical slant on it.”

  “He or she?” Dr. Graves asked. “Would a woman do such a thing? Well yes, I guess she might if she had an astronomical sort of grudge.” Dr. Graves scratched his head, thinking. “The cuts were fairly straight, and the attempt at anti-sepsis was made. Could be, I suppose.” He thought for a moment. “When I was a boy on my grandfather’s farm, he used gentian violet as an anti-infective on the male calves, sheep, and pigs when he docked them. At least it was the same looking purple stains I remember. I’m sure it’s the same solution, the devil to get off, once you get it on yourself. Maybe your person has a farm background as well as medical.”

  “Hey, thanks for the input. Anyone else here who might have something to add?” Ryan looked around at the frenetic pace of activity in the busy ER department. He wondered how anyone could find time to talk with him. “God, this place is a zoo!”

  “Yes, it’s usually like that on this unit, but I’ll ask around,” Graves replied.

  He spoke to several staff members. Ryan saw several shake their heads and rush away, maybe too busy to have a chat with the police or else they had no input.

  A young man approached Ryan. “Hi officer, I’m Jake Collins. I was here the morning Fred Callahan was brought in. I didn’t have him as a patient, but I heard him say he didn’t see his assailant, and he sure had the blue stuff all over his wounds as you say. Whined a lot, but who could blame the man, all cut up the way he was.” Jake involuntarily shivered as he spoke.

  “Anything else?” Ryan asked, immediately recognizing Jake as a busy body type. Every facility had one.

  “Well, he told his friend that came in with him, he believed what happened to him was an act of revenge for what he’d done. I don’t think they knew I heard that, but he was the guy who got off on that child molestation thing, anyway, didn’t he?”

  Jake gave a knowing smirk and Ryan disliked him even more.

  “That’s very significant, Jake, it adds to what we suspect may be a motive on the part of the attacker. Thanks for
the input. We may need you as a material witness one day.” He saw the aide’s chest swell with importance at the idea of being a material witness in a trial.

  “Yeah, sure,” Jake replied.

  Ryan left the ER, feeling he’d gotten some new information. “It all adds up in some unusual way. We need a break. Strange case, this, can’t get a handle on it, not yet anyway. Sounds like our perp knew what Callahan had done and took vengeance on him.” His brow furrowed. “Farm background, eh? Might be important if we can find anyone that fits that particular bill. Farm and/or medical, or maybe both, might be what we’re looking for. Must be an early riser, didn’t mind the early hours for his grisly deed. And there must have been some intensive stalking done before that. Sure enough, the thing was well planned.”

  ***

  Jake found a moment to take coffee in the nurse’s lounge. “Something seems familiar about that purple stuff they keep going on about. Where the hell have I ever seen anything like that? I know I have, and lately, too.” He tried to recall something, he’d seen, but where? His reverie, interrupted by the charge nurse, ended when she called him to attend a mother threatening to deliver, and far too soon. This new emergency filled his mind and he forgot his train of thought.

  The place, filled with anxious, demanding, frightened patients and crying children, kept him running for the remainder of his shift. He had no time for thought, but in the back of his mind, knew he’d seen something, but where?

  Jake worked a double, which he frequently did, having no one at home to complicate his life. After work, he often sought relaxation at a dive called The Paradisio. Though not of the gay persuasion, he found the place more entertaining than any night spot he knew. “Lots of action in the place. Never know what’ll happen, and something always does. “He laughed as he pulled into the parking lot. Tired but wound up from two hectic shifts, he needed a diversion. “Lot of fancy wheels out here. Somebody in that crowd’s got a few bucks.”