The Vigilante (7 page)

Ryan frowned. “We need more info on this Callahan while we’re at it. The man’s got to have more priors than what Harrisburg gave us. I’ve got someone checking the national computer register on pedophiles. A man like that has to have a sizable record.”

“I’ll go see the Moulton’s, maybe find out how the kid’s doing. They won’t like seeing me on this mission—don’t blame ‘em one damned bit.” As Harris took his leave, he added, “So far, we have no strong leads, only a few bits of evidence. And I confess I’ve never been more reluctant to work on a case.”

***

When the doorbell rang, Jeannie answered it. Her eyebrows rose in surprise. She recognized the officer standing there from Will’s case. “Inspector Harris, my goodness, how may I help you?”

“Sorry, ma’am, we have to ask a few questions. It’s about the man who was attacked in Leesford Park. May I come in?”

Jeannie let him in and ushered him into the den. “I don’t want Will to see an officer in this house, or any strange man. He’s been through enough.” She closed the door, but not before Harris caught a glimpse of the boy sitting quietly on the floor, listlessly playing with brightly colored
Legos
, building shapeless creations, using little creative imagination.
A sad little guy, one we didn’t help.
He hurt inside, seeing the boy sitting like an automaton.

Jeannie saw the regret on his face, but seeing it did nothing to avert her anger and disgust at this man’s presence.

“How
is
your boy? We certainly regret how that case went. You must know that. None of us wanted that to happen.” He took the proffered chair as sweat broke out on his brow. “The arresting officer was a rookie.”

Jeannie sat opposite him. She saw his discomfort, but had no sympathy for the officer. “What are we supposed to do now? Why are you here questioning us? What’s going on?”

“Well ma’am, as you must have heard, the man who committed the crime on your son was attacked in the running park. You know, Leesford Park. We have to ask any and all people who might have had a reason to take revenge on him.” He felt the heat rise in his cheeks. “We need to know your whereabouts at the time in question.”

“If it happened in the morning as they said on the news, we were still in bed, or getting breakfast,” she replied. Her reluctance and distaste in discussing this ugly subject made her voice short, clipped, and angry. “What time are you concerned with exactly?”

“It happened just as the sun came up. About six thirty, we believe.”

“We were asleep.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Since this happened to Will, he doesn’t jump out of bed anymore to watch early morning cartoons, not even his favorite, Sponge Bob.” She sighed. “My husband was in Denver attending a conference on cost efficiency and marketing. He works for Bonaventure Corporation, and they keep him jumping. He’s gone a lot, these days, too much, in fact.”

“Will he be able to prove he was there at the time in question?”

“Of course. He’ll be home soon. You can ask him yourself. He won’t like seeing you here, helping the man who destroyed our son. You must know our boy will never be the same!”

The anger and sorrow in her voice apparently added to his discomfort, but Jeannie didn’t care. The time for politeness had passed.

Harris held his ground to complete the questioning. “It’s not that we want to help the man, it’s that a crime has been committed, and we have to take care of it.” He sighed. “This isn’t easy for us, ma’am. Believe me. We understand your feelings in this matter. We most certainly do.”

Jeannie’s lips tightened and her face grew rigid at his words, obviously trying valiantly to control her emotions. The man worried she might erupt at any moment.

The officer’s increasing nervousness pleased Jeannie. “Yes, for him, justice for that filthy bastard, but not for our son. You had no justice for our son, and you never will have!” Her fists clenched tight, her nails dug into the flesh of her palms.

Harris noticed her body had gone rigid as she rose from her chair. “Please ma’am, we were sorrier than we can say about what happened to Will.” Sweat trickled down his face. “You must know that.”

She dismissed the nearly pleading tone of Harris’s voice. “Maybe so, but coming here with this business about that horrid man is just too much!” Her tears started falling. “Please leave, I can’t stand this.”

“Okay ma’am, I will, but ask your husband to give me a call.” He handed her his card. “Just ask him. I’m doing my job, and I have to say, it’s not so pleasant at times, ma’am.” Harris headed to his car as Jeannie slammed the door behind him.

She wanted to slam it hard enough to break the small, inset glass window, but didn’t. He had a job to do. Understanding that, she went into the den, flung herself into her husband’s chair and cried her heart out. A bit later, she called her mother.

“Mom, would you believe it? The cops were here questioning us about our whereabouts the other morning, wondering if any of us attacked that monster, Callahan!” She bit off the words as her anger and frustration flared.

“I don’t believe it!” Martha responded. “They had the unmitigated gall to question
you
,
of all people, about what happened to that sick monster? Oh, Jeannie, sometimes I just can’t bear it!”

“It was that nice Officer Harris. He said they had to ask anyone remotely connected to the man. Now Martin is required to prove he was at the conference. I told him where Martin was during that time, but that wasn’t good enough to satisfy him. I just can’t take this anymore, Mom.” Jeannie’s voice broke. “Is this hideous nightmare ever going to end and our son become a normal child again? What that man did to him is almost the same as committing a murder. Our happy little boy is gone from us now, and I don’t know if we’ll ever get him back!”

“I’ll be right over, Jeannie, just you hang on.”

Martha’s rage seethed within her until she thought her heart would burst. Her mind began spinning as if she were inside a wind tunnel. “I’ve got to hang onto myself. Jeannie needs me these days, more than ever,” she muttered as she took a quick look in the mirror and headed to the car. “Oh Lordy, I hope a psychiatrist
can
help me, before I go totally off the deep end.”

She drove too fast, barely avoided jumping a curb or smashing into a tree. At Jeannie’s, she nearly ran to the door.

Jeannie met her at the door. “Mom, you’re so pale! Come in and let me look at you. You feeling all right?”

“Yes, of course I am. Your call just put me in a tizzy.” She took a deep breath. “Jeannie, these are tough times. In a case like this, the police would naturally look at people having reason to avenge themselves on a man like that. In earlier days, he’d have been hung by his balls or shot at the very least. But we are civilized now, so the police give
them
protection. Seems that way to me, anyway. It’s called Miranda Rights. Do we have Miranda Rights? No, we’ve got nothing!”

Jeannie led her into the den. Her deep blue eyes appeared dull and lifeless, and her hair hung in a mass of rumpled, tangled curls as she slumped into a chair. “Martin will be home soon; maybe he’ll get this taken care of.”

Martha saw Will sitting in front of the television. “What’s Will up to?” She gestured at the television and the dull-faced boy sitting there. Isn’t he spending too much time doing that?”

“I think he is, but he refuses to go for walks in the park like we used to. He’s not even interested in feeding the ducks.” They heard the sound of a car, and Jeannie brightened visibly. “Thank God, Martin’s home.”

The garage door rumbled as it rolled up.

Then Martin breezed in. “Hi ya, hon, how’s it going?” He hugged his wife with a bear-like embrace. Noticing Martha, he asked, “Hi, Mom, everything okay?”

“Martin, the police were here,” Jeannie informed him. “You know that incident in the park?” She sniffed. “The detective came here asking if we knew anything about it! He wants you to prove you were at the conference during that time. I guess he believed I was asleep when it happened, lucky me.”

“The hell you say!” He stared at her in shock. “Of course I can prove it, but I’d sure as hell like to pin a medal on the guy who fixed that bastard!” He managed a laugh. “Bring those cops on. I hope they find the guy, the whole town will celebrate what he did, and me with them.” Then he sobered and his voice grew quiet. “So, how was our boy today?”

Jeannie couldn’t hide her frustration. “About the same, going to
Biggie’s Burgers
the other day seemed to perk him up. It’s the only thing that does.”’

“We’ll be going again,” Martha said. “But even there, an older man spoke to him and it frightened him terribly. He clung so tightly to me, I knew he was petrified. I tried to convince him the man was good and after a while, he finally played like all the other kids. Anymore, when I look at a bunch of kids, I wonder how many of them hide terrible secrets. Who knows what happens in their homes? I hate it!” She paused then went in to see her grandson. “Hi, honey, when are we going out to eat again?”

He left his chair and climbed into her lap. “You know where we could go, Grammy?”

“Why no, I can’t guess, Will.”

“To
Biggie’s
!” Then he spotted his father. “Daddy!” He scrambled from Martha and ran to his father who scooped him up and swung him in the air.

“Hi ya, son!” Martin hugged his small son warmly and kissed his cheeks. “What’s all this about going out to eat?”

Will exuded excitement. “Grammy’s takin’ me to
Biggie’s
for ’nother
bittie
meal!” the boy exclaimed and chattered happily for several minutes.

Tears filled Jeannie’s eyes as she looked at Martha. “Thanks Mom, you’ll never know how much.” She leaned into her husband’s big body for the strength afforded there. Martin enclosed her in his arms for a few moments.

At the door, Martin hugged Martha in a warm bear hug. “Bless you, Martha. We need all the help we can get.” The pain in his eyes hurt her and that terrible inner anger over her helplessness against people like Callahan rose in her again.

“Whatever helps. Who would have thought it’d be
Biggie’s Burgers?”
Martha replied and chuckled as she headed for her car. The sky had darkened into night, and she didn’t have a hospital shift for today.

“Thank heavens, maybe I can get some rest,” she mused aloud as she drove. “I have to find a shrink, maybe tomorrow. I wonder what he’ll think about my problem. What if he finds me a certifiable nut case?”

She felt more relaxed after visiting at her daughter’. Any spark of normalcy in Will produced hope for his recovery and confidence in his counselor’s efforts. Martha watched television before showering and going to bed. There were no further details about the Callahan case or any movies worthy of watching to take her mind away from the harsh realities of her present life.

Feeling restless, she took a mild sedative, actually a Dramamine, and fell into bed. Again, she had wild dreams, but felt nothing chasing her, though evil feelings lurked in the shadows of her mind and waited there to punish her.

CHAPTER 9

Martha woke with a jolt. Checking the clock, she realized she’d slept very late. “Ye Gods, it’s almost ten. I don’t believe I’ve slept so late. I have to be at work again at three.” She realized something else, too. “I feel tired, like I’ve run a million miles.”

Her phone rang. It was Jeannie. Listening with half an ear as Jeannie went on about Callahan, Martha’s mind swirled with feelings of unreality. Her thoughts centered on the new case she’d heard about, another attempt on children, and two more little girls haunted by nightmares.

“Yes, thank God,” Martha managed to answer. “He won’t be molesting kids again.” Laughing softly, she continued. “I heard the gory details at work last night, and I applaud whoever did it.”

“I know, but God, Mom, when will it end?”

“It never ends, Jeannie. There’s another devil on the loose.” She broke off and shook her head. “Hon, I have to work today, so I’ll see you tomorrow. Give my love to Will and we’ll go to
Biggie’s
again if he wants.”

Martha hung up. Her mind made up, steeling herself to contain her apprehension, she called Dr. Michael Carton’s office, a psychiatrist she’d heard good things about. She seldom worked psych, and consequently met few psychiatrists in the course of her hospital work. She was thankful she didn’t know Dr. Carton personally.

His nurse asked why she was calling and Martha answered, “I don’t exactly know what to tell you, but I have memory or time lapses.” She went on to explain. “I have lost periods of time. I don’t remember where I was or what happened at all. I’m frightened about it and I need to see someone.”

“Do you have insurance?”

“Yes, I have coverage. I’m a nurse at the hospital.”

“Oh, well, since you’re a nurse, I’ll try to squeeze you in. Let me think. I guess Dr. Carton could see you the day after tomorrow.”

“I’ll be there.” Sighing, Martha hung up. She had an appointment in two days, and only because she was in the medical field. “This way if I’m losing my mind, at least I’ll know why.”

She turned on the tube, looking for news of that latest crime against children. Hearing nothing, she flipped the channel. “Maybe the soaps would be better.”

The doorbell rang. Martha opened the door and, to her delight, saw Lizzie Marin, her friend of many years. Lizzie, a well-put-together woman with dark, curling hair swept back from her temples and a wide smile, was always a joy. “Oh hi, come in!” She flung the door wide and reached for her.

“Lady, what’s wrong, you look like hell.”

Martha laughed. “And good day to you, too. Want some lunch in a while? I just got up, had a bite of breakfast, but I could eat again if you’re hungry.”