The physical wounds would take a long time to heal, the psychological wounds even longer.
Sue Cox huddled in the hospital bed, her battered face a testament of the torture she’d experienced at the hands of Zeke, the man she had loved. Other deeper wounds hid beneath bandages and blankets and behind the haunted look in her swollen, bruised eyes.
She jerked in fright toward the doorway as footsteps slowed and then stopped outside her room. Someone entered but she couldn’t see who it was; a curtain blocked her vision. Her heart rate accelerated and she reached for the call button. But she relaxed when private investigator, Will Falstaff, came into sight carrying a vase overflowing with yellow flowers and a cheery balloon bobbing on a ribbon.
He couldn’t hide his wince at the sight of her, although he’d seen her just the day before and should have been mentally prepared for the vision she presented. If anything, her injuries looked worse. More swelling, deeper bruising. But that was often the case with a severe beating.
Sue noticed his reaction. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” She shot a meaningful glance in the direction of her hovering parents.
“No, no. You seem much better today. I can tell,” Will lied, understanding she wanted him to play down her condition for the sake of her folks. He busied himself arranging the items he’d brought on her bedside table.
Frank Cox stood and shook Will’s hand. Linda, his wife, gave him a quick hug and stepped back, pressing a tissue to her cheek to catch a tear. Tension occupied the room along with a sense of sorrow.
Will cleared his throat. “Have you folks had lunch yet?”
“No,” Linda hurried to answer. “We’re not hungry.” Her stomach growled and she looked abashed.
Will smiled softly. “Go ahead. I’ll sit with Sue while you go down to the cafeteria.”
He was rewarded with looks of gratitude from Sue’s parents.
“That would be great, Will. We just hate leaving her here alone.” Frank reached over and patted Sue’s hand, carefully avoiding the IV. “We’ll be right back, sweetheart.”
“It’s ok, Dad. I’m not going anywhere.”
Her joke fell flat and a look of dismay passed over Frank’s face. The fact that she had gone somewhere in the not-too-distant past was the reason she was here in this hospital room, recovering from a brutal attack.
Sue hurried to correct her mistake. “I just mean, go ahead and eat. I’ll be fine. Mr. Falstaff is here and there’s an officer right outside my door. Take your time.”
Linda kissed her daughter lightly on the temple. Turning, she took her husband’s arm, speaking over her shoulder as Frank led her toward the door. “They have a buffet. We won’t be long.”
Once they were gone, Sue sighed deeply. “Thank you, Mr. Falstaff. This will sound awful, but I really needed a break from them. I mean, I’m glad they’re here, but their distress exhausts me. It’s hard to take. They want me to talk to them, tell them everything that happened; which I could never do. Besides, I just want to forget it all.”
Will nodded as he pulled up a chair beside her bed. “I doubt if it will be that simple, Susan. You’ve been through a lot. It’s most likely going to take awhile to...”
“I know, I know.” She closed her eyes briefly. “A psychologist was in earlier. The doctors want me to set up regular appointments with a therapist when I get home. My folks were all over that, agreeing with him. So, I guess I’ll be talking to a shrink.”
“Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.” Will removed his coat and leaned back.
Sue gave him a sad look. “Don’t you see? The last thing I want to do is rehash what happened. It’s humiliating.”
She shifted in bed, the movement bringing a quick grimace to her face. She reached for her glass of water and Will scooted the tray closer so she could get it. After a sip on the straw, she replaced the drink and lay back against her pillow. Her eyes rested on Will’s face. “Do you think I need a psychiatrist?”
Will took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know you want me to say you don’t, but there are times in almost everyone’s lives when they could use counseling. Unfortunately most of us ignore the need. But you’ve been through more than anyone deserves and your wounds run much deeper than the surface. Sometimes it helps to talk to someone.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m ruined anyway.”
“Ruined? What do you mean?” His voice was gentle.
“I’m sure by now the police have Zeke’s computer. His camera.” Her voice grew hoarse and tears leaked from her eyes. “Oh god, the pictures. He took lots of pictures of me. Doing...things.”
Will rose and pulled some tissues from the box near the bed and handed them to her. “You mean committing crimes?”
Shaking her head, she sobbed once, and then gained some control. Her hand lay at her side, tissues crumpled in her fingers. “No. Other things. Immoral things. Disgusting things. Will my parents ever see those pictures?”
“I really can’t say for sure. They might be used as evidence if Zeke is ever found and the case goes to trial. Then they would probably have to use the pictures. I’m just guessing since I haven’t even seen them. But I’m pretty sure the police aren’t going to share them with your parents or anyone else unless it becomes a necessity. After all, you’re an adult. Your parents aren’t legally responsible for you. Another thing you have to remember, Susan, you’re one of the casualties here, not a criminal.”
Enjoy this excerpt from Dark Longings, a suspense/mystery by Wodke Hawkinson
The city never slept and even at four in the morning, people moved about. A young mother rushed to an all-night drugstore to purchase medication for a sick child. Music blasted from windows where parties pounded through the night. Teenagers slipped from their slumbering homes to keep forbidden rendezvous. Sirens wailed as emergency vehicles sped along neon boulevards. Women cowered in darkened bedrooms while men bellowed in drunken fury. Shady deals were conducted on dangerous corners and in murky alleys.
A dirt track ran parallel to the broad river that divided the city. Short turnoffs led down to the water every hundred yards or so. The road was largely deserted at this hour, empty lots leading to industrial buildings to one side and dense brush and trees on the riverside. A sedan bounced along the rough road. Two men in the front seat rode in silence. The first turnoff proved occupied by a group of homeless dregs gathered around a small fire. Just as the driver began to turn onto the second dirt ramp, he noticed a pickup truck backed down to the water. He could just make out two forms lounging on the tailgate, holding fishing rods. He swore softly and proceeded onward.
“Tough luck.” The man in the passenger seat shot his partner a horsy smile.
“Maybe the next one,” the driver said, checking the rearview mirror for other vehicles. The roadway remained dark.
At the next turnoff, he scanned the riverside for people. Finding it empty, he backed in and braked smoothly at the water’s edge. After putting the car in park, he and his companion got out, closing their doors quietly.
“Nice night,” the driver remarked, gazing up at the stars.
“Bit chilly, if you ask me,” the other man replied with a grin. His blocky teeth shone in the moonlight.
Together they managed to remove a large tightly-wrapped parcel from the trunk, hauled it to the river, and threw it in. The sound of the splash carried through the crisp air.
Down the riverbank, they heard an excited exchange between a couple of fisherman.
“Holy shit! Did you hear that? Was that a fish?” A man’s voice rang loudly across the water.
“If it was, it was a big one!”
The two men near the sedan looked at each other in the dim glow of the parking lights. “It was a big one alright,” the toothy one snickered.
His partner rolled his eyes, pushed the trunk gently closed with a gloved hand, and got into the car. His associate joined him and they drove back onto the road and into the night.
Enjoy this excerpt from Tangerine
, a futuristic novel by Wodke Hawkinson