Her tone indicated she felt ready to handle whatever came up, and Martha took relief and comfort from seeing it. Had Jeannie found a new strength in her battle for Will’s future? Martha certainly hoped and prayed she had.
“I suppose so. It’s just one more thing we face in this battle for our little guy’s return to normalcy.”
“How’s Bob? We haven’t met him yet. When’s that going to happen?”
“Later on maybe, no rushing things, Jeannie,” Martha couldn’t bring herself to tell Jeannie the sad story of how she’d lost him. Time enough for that. I’m being followed like a criminal, and I’ve committed crimes. What could I possibly tell her that wouldn’t drag her down with me?
She shrugged, “Well, I have to get back. I see my doctor again tomorrow.”
“Okay, Mom, you’re not telling me much. Something’s happening, and you’re keeping me in the dark.” Jeannie’s frustration seeped through in the tone of her voice. Her daughter was no fool.
“Sometimes that’s the best place to be, my daughter. All in good time. See you later.” She turned to leave then added, “Maybe you’re better off not knowing how rapidly my life is going down the toilet!” She left Jeannie standing there, mouth agape.
While fuming with anger at her untenable situation, Martha saw the little maroon sedan behind her. She stopped her car and got out. As the surveillance person drove by, passing her, she shook her fist at him, and laughed. “Not so good at your job are you? Get lost, you snoopy bastard.”
Then she realized it easily might have been her other self who had spoken those ugly words.
***
Martha entered Dr. Carton’s office in a quandary. Trying to get together with her alternate personality, Serena, had succeeded in bringing untold troubles, even danger into her life. “How do I stop worrying about what Serena may have done, when it was really me? What do I do?” She studied the doctor with eyes that were burning and red from crying and frustration. “What should I expect? I know I’ll be considered a criminal if the police ever find out what I’ve done,” she said, wondering how much the doctor knew about what she’d done as Serena.
“You will experience all sorts of strange things, getting acquainted with another part of yourself,” Dr. Carton answered. “Exactly what sort of criminal acts are you worried about?”
“I don’t wish to go into that just now, Doctor. But suffice it to say, I might have done a few things I wouldn’t normally do.”
The evasiveness of her answer did not escape the doctor, but he didn’t press her on it. Time would change her forthrightness about her alter, he felt certain of it. He also had read of cases where criminal behavior had occurred. Actually, they were not that unusual, but no alter could make the host person do those things considered especially heinous or deadly, according to his understanding of the subject. Martha’s worries were important, but he felt certain her actions were not overly criminal.
After an hour of counseling, she left the doctor’s office feeling no less confused and shaking her head in frustration. She hurried to her car, longing for Bob’s solid presence, but had to face the fact she’d lost that comfort. “I guess I’m on my own in this. I’ve never felt so alone. Lizzie is the only soul who didn’t freak out at what I’ve done as Serena. I couldn’t bring myself to tell those things to Jeannie, and I don’t even care if the cops are following me, not anymore.”
Feeling lost and depressed she drove home and pulled into the garage. “I’ve got to get rid of what’s left of that weird collection behind the plywood. If the cops ever find those things, I’ll be in jail longer than any criminal.” She stowed the offending articles in the trunk of her car and slammed it shut.
Since I’m under surveillance, I’ll have to give that nosey cop the slip to get rid of this stuff. Deep inside, she had the help she needed to achieve her goal and she allowed it. With Serena’s help, she’d make it happen and, for the first time, she welcomed the confidence of knowing it.
She turned the lights off about 10 p.m., hoping anyone watching the house would suppose she’d retired. Waiting until well after midnight, Martha slunk out the back way to scout the streets around her home. The surveillance car sat a block away. She carefully drew near enough to watch the man until she saw an avenue of escape.
“He’s drowsy for sure, that head bobs way too often.” She chuckled softly as his head jerked upright again. How often had she done the same on long night shifts when things were too quiet? She could almost hear the occasional snort, as sleep overcame him. He fought it until finally his head hit his chest and she knew he’d dozed off.
She opened the tip-up-style garage door manually after unhooking the electric motor. Pushing her car out into the street, she rolled it down a-ways then went back to close the garage door. She left out the small side door, got in her car and drove away. In her rear view mirror, the surveillance car sat in its place, lights off, the driver’s head nodding in sleep. “Thank God this car wasn’t too heavy to push!”
Laughing at her victory, Martha drove several miles out toward the edge of the city. Spotting a large industrial dumpster, she stopped and tossed her incriminating clothes, big men’s boots, and most of the theatrical make-up. Regretting her very poor ethics regarding the care of sharps, she tossed in the few remaining scalpels right along with the other things. “Good riddance, you incriminating garbage!” She’d kept the things contained and felt certain no fingerprints could be found on any of the stuff tossed into the dumpster. She’d always been very careful of that, never knowing why.
“I can’t go home. He’d see me and know I’d been up to something. I’ll find a place to wait out the night and visit Jeannie in the morning. Since she was wearing suitable clothing, she decided to seek an open all night diner.
She remembered Mickie’s Coffee Shop stayed open all night. She’d been there with Bob in better times. She couldn’t go home until after the morning rush hour and made the decision to sit there and nurse a cup of coffee. It would use up time and help her stay awake. Taking a booth far in the back, she surveyed the people, sitting, eating, talking, and some, nearly copulating in their booths. She easily ignored it all.
Her mind in a flurry of hopelessness, loneliness, and distress, she felt a bit of relief as a few stray tears escaped. Putting her head down on the table, she murmured softly, “Oh God, will this nightmare of mine never end?”
The blood froze in her veins when she heard a deep voice behind her. “Yes, Martha, how will it all end? I’d like to know that, too.”
“Bob?” She breathed his name softly and turned to peek behind her at the man in the next booth. Without further comment, he slid out of his booth, shoved his coffee cup across the table, and slipped into the opposite seat, joining her. He fixed his eyes on hers with a look, close to desperation. “You got things sorted out, yet? You’re out so late, anything wrong?” Deep concern lay in his eyes, and the warmth glowing from them set her pulses racing. The heat of him radiated toward her like a furnace. Her body quivered with weakness at seeing that look on Bob’s face again.
“No, just couldn’t sleep, is all,” she murmured weakly. It was all she could’ manage. The sexual heat that emanated from his darkened eyes filled her with a desperate need to crawl into his arms and forget about everything. “How about you? No sleep either?”
“Yeah, same here—Martha, can we go somewhere and just talk? That’s all, just talk.” His soft tone convinced her of his need. “Come on, my lady,” he insisted, his voice the low growl of an impassioned man.
“About what—haven’t we said everything?” Her despair lay deep in her voice. She could hear it and knew he could, also.
He’d never even called her, not once. She held her anger over that. But his presence here, and the concern radiating from him just now, confused her. What was happening?
He readily took advantage of her weakness. Somehow, he knew she had no strength left. “Come on, let’s go—come on,” he urged.
When
he rose and took her arm, Martha had no will of her own. She stood and walked meekly beside him, holding to his strong arm as he led her to his vehicle. She struggled to ignore the heat of his hands on her body when he ushered her inside.
She knew he headed for his home, and made no move to stop him. She had no strength to stop anything he might do to her this night. She’d never felt so weak and vulnerable in her life.
Deep down, she trusted the kind of man Bob was and knew he wouldn’t intentionally hurt her—though his silences had. And plenty. She said nothing as he drove without speaking through the darkened streets until he reached his home. Then he led her inside and sat her in his big leather chair.
“I’ll get you something to drink. Looks like you need it.” She heard the clink of glasses and ice, then a pop as he opened a bottle. Returning to her side, he handed her a stiff shot of whiskey. “Here you go.”
She drank a good slug of it. Scalding her throat like fire, it warmed her down to her toes. She really didn’t care what she drank as she waited for him to speak. It seemed impossible to care about anything. What’s wrong with me?
“Martha, I’ve tried to sort out how I feel about the things you’ve told me,” Bob finally said. “In spite of illegalities, criminal acts, and alternate personalities—try though I might, I can’t get along without you and I can’t get you out of my mind. God knows I’ve tried to put this in perspective, but I can’t. I only know I need the sight of you, the smell of you, and for damned sure, the feel of you!”
He reached for her then, crushing her tight against his big body. He held her close, nuzzling into her hair, kissing her lips so long and deep she almost fainted. His lips raced over her face then began to travel down the front of her shirt. “Oh God, Martha,” he cried, his voice muffled, broken, and trembling. “I love you so!”
CHAPTER 29
Martha gasped as tears of disbelief formed in her eyes. “I don’t believe this. I’d lost all hope. My world is all messed up, and losing you was the last straw for me. I thought you despised me!”
He said nothing more as he kissed her tears away and started opening her blouse. She struggled and jerked out of his arms. “Bob, I can’t. I don’t know what you’re—I can’t believe this is happening.”
He reached for her again, crushed her tight, and kissed her long and hard. Her breath came in panting gasps as she clutched onto him. Her blood raced, only partly in fear, but more because it was him. She wanted him, she burned for him, and she knew at last she loved him, truly loved him.
“Shush, it’s all right. Everything’s all right,” he murmured. He wanted her, and he’d have her tonight. No tears or recriminations would stand in his way, and no thoughts of guilt.
Martha, unable to resist his advances, did nothing to stop him and became more than willing. In shock at this turn of events, she let his passionate, burning kisses quietly turn her frozen soul into a mass of molten longing. A desperate fire burned within her and she had no will or desire to stop what was happening.
Nothing mattered now, not anymore. Lost in the heated madness he’d created in her, she forgot her despair. Her heart soared inside her chest until she nearly fainted.
He lifted her lightly into his arms as if she were a featherweight, and took her to his bed. “No Mr. Nice Guy tonight, my love. It’s been too long.”
He unfastened her clothes, pulled them off. At this, Martha came alive and, fired by her own passion, began to help him divest himself of his things.
He gasped in delight at finding a fiery and willing partner in his arms, closed her mouth with his, and went deep as he sought it all from her.
Helpless to stop his assault and filled with fire, she met him fully, kiss for kiss, touch for touch. She’d never known anyone like this man and if it only lasted this one night, so be it. She didn’t believe in his love. She knew better than that after his long, painful, silences, but she had no doubt of his passion.
Go for it, girl! Martha heard the words, felt the sentiment, and realized how well she’d become fused with that other part of herself. She returned Bob’s kisses with unbridled lust, leading him on a wild, hot-blooded adventure that lasted through the few hours left of their night together and into the softness of the morning light. He drove her to heights of passion she’d never imagined possible. His skill and desire tore all her worries asunder.
***
Sammy Gill entered Ryan’s office. Shamed faced, he related the details of his surveillance of Martha Lavery. “Well, she must be seeing a psychiatrist. I saw her enter the offices of Doctors Michael Carton and Herman Schoenfeld, both of ‘em psychiatrists.” His face reddened. “She knows she’s being tailed, too, because she stopped suddenly and when I passed her, she shook her fist at me to let me know she’d made me. That and her angry glare told me what she thought about it.
“But worse yet, she gave me the slip last night. I think I must have dozed off—long hours you know. All the lights were off, so I figured she’d retired.” Embarrassed at the admission, he apologized. “Jeez, Ryan, I’m sorry. It was way late and I was exhausted. But anyway, it was nearly noon today when she breezed into her driveway, got out, and entered her house with a key. So she’d unplugged her garage door last night, opened it by hand, and slipped away.”
“Cagey character, isn’t she?” Ryan grinned. “Don’t feel too bad, your relief called off, slip-up on our part.” He frowned “Wonder where she went? Why’d she need to sneak off like that? Why the evasive behavior? Maybe she resents being tailed. Hell’s bells, I know I would.” He took a deep breath and patted Sammy on the shoulder. “We’ll have to be less obvious in her case.” “Submit your overtime. We’ll get another guy for a while, maybe a woman. I’ve got one in mind that she won’t spot so easily.”
He dismissed Sammy and called Harris. “Good morning, Alan,” he said with a grin. “Our lady gave Sammy the slip last night. She’s no dummy. Cagey as hell and getting mighty damned suspicious.”
“Well, if she’s our perp, she’s done the world a couple of favors anyway. What’s next?”
“They’re picking Callahan up as we speak. Harrisburg sent us a laundry list of his activities. He drives an old dark blue sedan. We took the information off it from the street. It matches one the police in Harrisburg have been looking for. I’ve sent Charlie and Ben out to pick him up, confiscate the car, and do forensics on it and the house. I hate to think what rot they’ll find on Freddie’s computer—damn that bastard!”
“Whew! Things are moving along, eh?” Harris commented. “So where are we with the Lavery woman? She’ll be a real hero if you try to arrest her. Down in Australia, a woman shot the balls off the guy that raped her granddaughter, and she became a national hero. The police didn’t dare prosecute her.” He chuckled. “That could happen with this case, and you know it. People are damned fed up.”
“Don’t I know it?” Ryan shuffled a few papers. “As far as surveillance goes, we’ll have a female do the tailing from now on. Lavery’s wise to us now and we need another tail—how about Carla? She’s a slick one and she’ll be less obvious if I know anything about that dame.” He laughed. “I wouldn’t mind tailing this suspect myself. Who knows what we’d find, psychiatrist and all?”
“Psychiatrist? She’s really seeing one?” Harris asked. “A nut case, huh? Is that it?” He shook his head. “It don’t fit, Ryan.”
“Not at all. She’s a very together person. Maybe with a problem we know nothing about. We’ll see how it goes.” Ryan stuffed the papers in a file. “The doctor won’t tell us anything. He can’t. You know how it is, patient confidentiality and all that. Only makes our work harder.” He stretched his arms over his head. “Hell, man, had breakfast yet?”
“Nope. Where you want to go?”
The detective and the sergeant left together. Coffee and donuts always made their day go better.
***
Lizzie came knocking on Martha’s door. Exhausted from her heavy night with Bob, Martha slowly dragge
d it open to admit her. “Hi. Come on in.”
“Where have you been?” Lizzie demanded. “You weren’t home last night. I called several times.” You look tired as hell, but there’s something else, too. What is it? Spill! Come on, girl, tell.”
Martha sighed. “Oh, I don’t know where to begin, Lizzie. How do I even start with this?” But over a fresh cup of coffee she did, telling her friend everything, including her night with Bob, how she got rid of the incriminating evidence, and her evasive maneuvering to evade the surveillance officer.
“Speaking of Bob,” Lizzie exclaimed, ignoring the rest of the story, “and here you thought it was over! How did you leave him this morning?”
“He made us a great breakfast, though it was after ten or so before we woke up. Later, he took me to my car. When I drove home, you should have seen the guy that’d been tailing me.” Martha giggled. “Oh, Lizzie, the look on his face.” She sighed again. “Getting back to Bob, I wonder about that myself. As far as our relationship goes, I don’t know if we have one or not. You know, he’s never called me since I told him about my activities. I waited in agony for days! He may never call me again, either. I think some part of me went a bit wild last night, probably scared him off. It’s strange to speak of my other self that way, when she’s really me. But this integration business takes some time and it’s very, very strange—actually it’s damned weird.” She looked intently at Lizzie. “I am so glad I can tell this stuff to you. Who else would even believe it?”
“So, when do we visit the infamous, Paradisio?” Lizzie changed the subject without a comment on her story and Martha realized their outing to the infamous nightclub was the real reason for Lizzie’s visit.
“Oh, whenever.” Martha shrugged, too tired to care. She really wanted to sleep—and see Bob again as soon as possible. “I’m too wiped out for tonight. How about tomorrow night? I haven’t taken any shifts for a while. Now that Bob is speaking to me again, maybe I should.” Martha mumbled the words, musing aloud and forgetting Lizzie for the moment.
The Vigilante Page 22
