by Sharon Sala
* * *
Lynch was going crazy. He’d been shut inside his house for days. The shades were drawn, and he had no way to cool himself in the sweltering heat. The utilities had been cut because of non-payment. He was running out of food. He needed to get some more peroxide to treat his slowly healing cuts and, most of all, he needed a drink. He’d made up his mind that, when it got dark, he was going out. There was an all-night convenience store less than four blocks from his duplex, and after midnight hardly anyone frequented the location. The only problem was that he didn’t have any money. But he’d worry about that later. Right now, he needed a drink and he needed food. He settled back to wait for sundown. He had a plan.
* * *
King’s phone call to Maggie had been just what she needed. He smiled as he replaced the receiver, patting his pockets to make certain he had all the papers and keys necessary to go back to the hospital. His assurance that Jesse was healing and that they would be home day after tomorrow was good news indeed. Her stitches were to come out in the morning. Then, after going over minor exercises in physical therapy, Jesse would be released.
But King still had to get inside Jesse’s house and pack enough of her belongings for a long stay. He had made up his mind she wasn’t coming back to St. Louis until it was safe. Now, he had to convince Jesse.
She wasn’t going to be as easy to persuade as she’d been when he first arrived. Then, she’d been so frightened and in so much pain she’d pretty much let him make the rules. But as she grew stronger, so did her will. Jesse was obviously still very relieved to see King come back into her room each day, but she had re-erected that secret wall of silence between them. A couple of times King had tried to draw her out; get her to talk about her decision to leave the ranch. Each time, Jesse would change the subject. He knew in no uncertain terms that now was not the time. She wasn’t ready to deal with it, so he let it drop. But time was running out, and so was King’s patience. She had to come with him. She didn’t have a choice until the intruder was caught.
The hospital room was dark and quiet. The only light came from the hallway outside the partially opened door. King watched the play of emotions on Jesse’s face. She hadn’t said no. She hadn’t said yes. In fact, she hadn’t said anything at all. That was what was bothering him.
“Jesse, for the love of…” then he caught himself. Anger would get him nowhere. He took a deep breath and started over. “Honey, I just don’t understand. The ranch is your home. You’ll be safe there with your family.”
But Jesse’s soft interruption startled him. He didn’t know what to make of it.
“I know that you’ll take care of me, King. You always have. But you’re not really my family. I don’t have any family.” The harshness of her words was softened with a smile. “Just very dear friends.”
Her denial hurt in a way he could never have imagined, yet he refused to be deterred.
“Okay,” he agreed, letting his breath out in slow, measured puffs of frustration. “I’m not your brother, but by God, I feel like one, and I want you safe. Is that so bad?”
He knew the instant he said he felt like her brother that he was lying to himself and to Jesse. But the thought behind it was sincere, and he let his statement stand.
Jesse read the hurt in his face and knew he’d never understand. That’s partly why she’d left. She hadn’t wanted a brother. She’d wanted more from King than he could give.
“I’m not your sister,” she said more harshly than she intended, and took a deep breath before she continued. “Most of the time I don’t feel like I belong to anyone. I teach other people’s children, not my own. I go home to an empty house and grade papers until I get tired and, usually, I just go to bed. I know I made my choices, and though they aren’t what I particularly desired, they’re mine. But I appreciate, more than you can ever know, that you were here for me. I couldn’t have survived this nightmare without you. And…”
King held his breath.
“And,” she continued, “I’ll come home with you. But just until the man is apprehended. Then I have to come back to this life and my job. This is my world now, King. It’s the only one I belong to.”
King breathed a huge sigh of relief and pulled Jesse into a big hug. He felt her momentary resistance and then smiled to himself as he felt her relax, allowing him the familiarity. Just as soon as he got her back to the ranch, he was going to get to the bottom of her silence.
Jesse knew every word she spoke and every denial she put in his way would only make King more determined to crack the shell of secrecy she’d erected around herself. She didn’t know what was going to happen when she went back to the Double M with King. The only thing she did know was that pretending he was her brother was not going to work again.
* * *
Jesse was in therapy, being briefed on the types of exercises she must do to regain full mobility in her hands. Her stitches had been removed earlier in the day, and while she was horrified at the maze of tiny red lines crisscrossing her palms, she counted herself lucky to be alive still. Scars were something with which she could deal.
King had made arrangements with Sheila and Captain Shockey to meet at Jesse’s house and pack the needed cloths for their trip. Sheila willingly agreed. She had been at Jesse’s home often enough to be able to find anything they would need. Shockey had agreed earlier to accompany King. While it was still the scene of a crime, King had free access with Jesse’s permission.
It was pure curiosity on Shockey’s part to see how McCandless would react. He had a gut feeling there was more to Jesse LeBeau’s attack than just a pervert crawling through a window. Until a case was solved, he trusted no one.
King’s cab pulled into Jesse’s driveway as Sheila and Shockey arrived. He was glad. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.
“It’s not a pretty sight,” Shockey warned as they entered the stuffy confines of the darkened interior.
Sheila shuddered and looked about nervously, half expecting someone to jump from behind a sofa or out of a closet.
“It wasn’t a pretty thing to do to anyone. I don’t imagine it is,” King growled, his voice even deeper and rougher than usual. He raked his hand through his hair, ruffling the ends out of order. He just wanted this job over with. This was the first time he’d been to Jesse’s home. He felt curious and a little guilty. He should have come sooner. He looked around, searching for signs of the Jesse he knew. There were none. It may as well have been a hotel room. Nothing looked lived in. There were no pictures, no mess, no personal items…nothing. Her life here was a puzzle. It looked like she’d just been eating and sleeping here, not really living. It almost looked like she’d been waiting. But waiting for what?
“Well, come on,” King said. “Let’s get this over with. Lead the way, Captain.”
Shockey made a mental note. A plus for McCandless. He didn’t know where the rooms were located. Funny, if they’re so close, he hadn’t been inside this house. Something didn’t add up.
Sheila’s gasp was nothing to the rage King felt as they walked into Jesse’s bedroom. Nothing had been cleaned, nothing had been moved. For the first time he realized just how valiantly Jesse had struggled and how desperately she’d fought to survive. His voice came out in a dark, ugly threat and his entire body shook as he turned to Shockey and growled a warning.
“You better find him before I do.”
Shockey nodded with a silent promise as well as a silent warning to King, and then left them to their task.
It was completed in haste and silence. No one spoke much until they were outside.
“Sheila,” King said, watching the little blond get into her car. “I’m sorry you had to go through this. But Jesse and I really appreciate your help. I probably wouldn’t have packed any of the right stuff.”
“I didn’t go through anything,” she answered. “Jesse is the one who’s suffered. And as far as help, I didn’t do so much. She would have done the same, and more, for
me.” She started her car and began to back from the short drive, then stopped and lowered her window. “Take good care of Jesse,” she called. “She’s a good friend. Please don’t hurt her!”
King frowned as he watched her hesitant wave and then she disappeared around the curve. Why would she think I’d hurt Jesse? None of this made any sense at all.
Physical therapy was a nightmare. Jesse was extremely nervous. Everyone was a stranger. She could hardly concentrate on the therapist’s instructions, for her furtive observation of the people that kept coming and going through the therapy room. The guard hadn’t come with her to therapy; at least she hadn’t seen him. She desperately wished King would hurry and get back. This was the first time she’d been alone since the attack. The staff went about daily duties and Jesse wished she was back in her room. Everytime she saw someone that fit the general description of the intruder, her heart would skip a beat. Twice she’d forced herself not to demand the unsuspecting men remove their shirts so she could see for herself if there were wounds on their upper bodies. She was driving herself into a state of paranoia she knew wasn’t healthy. But some one she didn’t know had tried to kill her. Until he was apprehended, Jesse was going to be afraid.
“Dear Lord,” Jesse whispered to herself. “What if they never find him? How do I learn to cope with this?”
Finally the therapist was through. She left with a promise to tell a nurse that Jesse could go back to her room. Jesse sighed impatiently as she watched her exit between the tall, swinging doors that led back into the hall. It had been a matter of some argument whether she should walk down one floor to have her therapy. Finally, they had insisted she be brought down in a wheelchair. It was hospital policy. So she waited for someone to come and take her back to relative safety.
Jesse alternated between anticipation and joy when she thought about going back to the ranch with King—seeing Maggie again, all her old friends, and, she’d have to admit to herself, even Duncan.
Duncan! How could someone who looked so like King be the absolute and total opposite in personality? Duncan was the dark. King was the light. As a child, that was how Jesse had pictured them. But Duncan was a McCandless and she was not. Any problems she had with him were to be kept to herself. She was the outsider, not he. So she held her silence.
Her daydreams were interrupted as the swinging double doors opened. A man wearing hospital whites entered, pushing a wheel chair. Jesse’s heart gave a sharp thud and she began to shake. He looked like…he was the same age and build. Jesse looked around wildly. He couldn’t be coming for her. It had to be for someone else. It was then she realized she was all alone in the room. The man kept coming toward her with a smile on his face. She stood, frantically searching for an exit, a door into another room. Somewhere to run. A place to escape? There was nothing!
“Miss LeBeau?” the male nurse questioned, as he saw her agitation escalate. Something was wrong. Maybe they’d sent him to the wrong place. Or maybe this wasn’t the right patient. “I came to get you and…” but he never got to finish his sentence.
“Nooo!” Jesse moaned softly, and started backing slowly away. Her fear was so great she didn’t think she was going to be able to breathe. She couldn’t go through this again. He said he came to get her. She was too frightened and hurt to fight again. “Please,” she begged, holding her hands out in front of her with a motion for him to come no closer. Oh God! Not again!
Suddenly it dawned on the man. He knew who this was and he wanted to wring his supervisor’s neck. This was the young woman who had been attacked several days ago. They should have known to send a female nurse. They’d made such a point of having no men enter her room, and this mistake, innocent though it may be, could do her irreparable harm. It was obvious to him that he was a vivid reminder of her recent ordeal.
“Miss LeBeau, please.” He spoke in a calm, authoritative manner. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just a nurse. But I understand, okay? You wait there and I’ll call someone else to take you back to your room.”
Jesse knew he was talking. She could see his lips moving. But the blood was roaring in her ears so loudly, she couldn’t hear what he was saying. Then he stopped. He was backing slowly toward the door. She saw him call out to someone in the hall. She stood helplessly, waiting in terror.
“I need some help down here,” he called urgently, motioning toward the nurses’ station. “Some of you get down here quick, and you better be female.”
King and one of the staff doctors were on their way to physical therapy to see how Jesse was progressing. He wanted to talk to the therapist himself and see if there was anything specific he might do to help her regain mobility in her fingers and hands after they went back to the ranch.
He saw a male nurse standing at the end of the long hallway, half in and half out of the swinging doors, saw a flurry of activity at the station as several of the nurses started hurrying toward the man in the doorway, and felt a twinge of apprehension. When he got close enough to read the sign over the doorway where they were headed, he started to run. It was the physical therapy room. Something was wrong and instinct told him it was with Jesse.
King heard the male nurse’s low voice explaining the situation as the others arrived. His suspicion was confirmed. He looked past the group standing bunched in the doorway as they discussed the best possible way to handle the situation without further endangering the patient. King started to push past them.
“You can’t go in there, mister,” a nurse said. “There’s a patient in there who needs special help. The staff psychiatrist is on his way.”
“She doesn’t need anything but me,” King growled, and started to force his way through the group. “What in hell did you people do to cause this?” he muttered. “She was fine when I left.”
“Let him pass,” the doctor said as he arrived, quickly assessing the situation.
King stepped inside the door and looked around, trying to determine what had triggered this reaction. He could see nothing obvious but Jesse’s intense fear. How was he going to get through to her without causing her harm? He waited, hoping she would come to him. But she didn’t move, and the expression of horror on her face didn’t change.
Jesse had backed herself as far into the room as she could go. When she felt the corner of the wall cradle her back, she slid down weakly into a crouched position, unable to run any farther. She hadn’t taken her eyes from the man standing in the doorway.
The man was talking to people on the other side of the door, but she couldn’t see their faces. Maybe he called for help. If there were too many, she couldn’t fight them all. She moaned softly and beat her fists weakly against her knees. Jesse’s rationale was gone. She had flashbacked to the original attack, and was living it all over again.
Her breath came in sobs as she frantically searched the room’s sparse furnishings for some kind of weapon. She’d had one before, but she couldn’t seem to find it now when she needed it. The man was going to kill her. She just knew it! Her eyes followed the baseboard as it ran the length of the room, still searching. There! Under the window! A piece of pipe! That would work! Jesse fixed on the pipe’s location and began crawling on her hands and knees, oblivious to the pain in her palms as she pulled herself across the floor. Someone was coming through the doorway. She had to hurry. Jesse was breathing in harsh, choking gasps, her mind fixed on gaining control of the weapon. She still wasn’t ready to die. Her fingers closed around the piece of metal as she clutched it tightly with both hands. She pulled herself upright and stood silhouetted against the backdrop of the bright midday sun streaming through the windows.
“Oh, dear Lord!” one of the nurses whispered to herself, as the group stood in shock, witnessing the terror and strength of heart that Jesse LeBeau possessed. Tears burned and blurred the nurse’s vision as she turned away, unwilling to witness the suffering caused by the rape of Jesse LeBeau’s mind.
“Be careful,” the doctor urged as King entered, standing ready t
o assist if physical restraints became necessary. He was surprised that this had happened. The patient had seemed in control. He supposed that alone should have alerted him. No one could experience this type of trauma and not suffer some kind of emotional stress.
“Jesse,” King called. He stood unmoving in the center of the room. “Jesse, it’s me, King. Honey, put the pipe down. You know I wont hurt you, don’t you, baby?” He kept repeating the plea, over and over, hoping to reach some part of Jesse that was still rational.
The deep, husky rasp was so familiar. Jesse blinked furiously, trying to clear away the veil of tears that kept blurring her vision. She heard him calling, over and over, repeating her name in the same, safe, familiar voice. The man who’d hurt her hadn’t said her name. He’d only screamed ugly, foul things. This man was different. He wasn’t trying to hurt her. He wasn’t screaming at her. Maybe… She began to lower the pipe.
King cursed softly under his breath and resisted the urge to wipe the sweat from his eyes. Any sudden movement could startle her and send her back into the nightmare.
“Jesse Rose,” he called softly, and saw her begin to tremble. He breathed a harsh sigh of relief as he watched the pipe slip from her shaky fingers and bounce once before it rolled back against the wall.
“King?” Jesse whispered, suddenly aware of her surroundings. It was the strangest sensation. She didn’t know how she came to be standing so far away from the door, nor why everyone was looking at her so curiously. Her hands hurt. They hadn’t hurt like this in days. She gasped as she looked down at the rawness. A few tiny drops of blood were seeping from one of the deeper scars.
