“Well, I’m sorry about that. I was frustrated. I definitely owe you an apology.”
“You owe me a helluva lot more than that. I’m thinking of something pink.”
“That’s the drink talkin’, Sheriff, not you. You need to think about Luby, and how this sort of talk would make her feel if she heard it.”
“I was there that night you walked out on the football field to accept your award. Homecoming Queen.” He sighs. “Most beautiful girl in five counties. Watching you grow up, seein’ you make one bad decision after the other. I always showed you respect. But the way you treated me last night? I figured if half the town was getting in your pants, the Sheriff might as well get in there, too.”
“First of all, you can count on one hand the men who’ve been in my pants, and when you do, you’ll have four fingers left over. Whatever else you’ve heard is lies and speculation. I’ve done some things I’m not proud of, but Darrell’s the only man I’ve been with in that way.”
“Well, that’s about to change,” he says.
He pauses a few seconds, then bolts out of the chair and comes straight at me.
57.
I THINK ABOUT makin’ a run for it, but there’s no way I can get to the back door and unlock it before he can catch me. Instead, I grab a glass bookend from the book shelf.
“Good luck with that,” he says.
He’s quick and agile for bein’ forty, but I’ve got plenty of experience dealin’ with my own drunken addict, who enjoyed comin’ at me when I denied him sex. I’ve got a clear shot, but that’s the sucker move.
The one he’s expectin’.
So I wind up, and fake a throw, knowin’ he’ll instinctively duck and cover up, just like Darrell.
He does.
When he looks back up, I hurl it into his forehead, and he goes down. I jump over his body, open the front door, and see somethin’ that surprises me.
Cletus Renfro’s car.
He must’ve taken it from the impoundment lot. Didn’t want anyone to see his sheriff’s car parked in my driveway.
I could easily outrun him, but not the car. I make the quick decision to get inside the car and hope the keys are in the ignition. I hear a noise behind me and turn to see Sheriff Boyle comin’ out the door. He’s hurt bad, and blood is literally squirtin’ from the angry cut in his head. I run to the car, jump in the driver’s seat, and lock the door. Unfortunately, all the windows are rolled down, and there’s no time to roll them up. I look on the column to see if the keys are there, but they’re not. I feel around on the floor board, but again, no keys.
I raise up, grab the packets from my back pocket, and wait for him to come into view on the driver’s side. I can’t throw both packets with accuracy, so I place one on the floorboard and scoot across the seat to give myself some room. When he stands at the driver’s side he’ll try to open the door, realize it’s locked, and his focus will be on reachin’ in and unlockin’ the door. I’ll hit him in the chest and scramble out the passenger door while shuttin’ my eyes and holdin’ my breath. Maybe I’ll get lucky.
So that’s the plan.
But it doesn’t work.
When Sheriff Boyd gets to the door, he sees me windin’ up, and when I hurl the packet, he somehow manages to duck out of the way.
It’s dark, and I don’t see the packet after it whizzes past him, but I know it’s gonna land too far away to have any effect on him.
Now I’m tryin’ to reach the packet I placed on the floor, but the Sheriff is all over me, grabbin’ my legs, pullin’ me toward him. He climbs half into the car to get to me, and lands a punch on my sore cheek that makes me so groggy and weak I can’t do nothin’ but be slid out the car.
I’m lyin’ on the ground, and the only light I see is comin’ from inside the car, where I see my second packet of powder has been crushed. Sheriff Boyd must have stepped on it while pullin’ me out.
So I’m nine-tenths knocked out, I’ve got no weapons left, and I hear him openin’ the trunk. I try to scream, but the sound that comes out of my throat is more like a scared, whimpering hiss.
Sheriff Boyd picks me up like a sack of flour, puts me over his shoulder, and dumps me into the trunk.
“Wh-what are you doin’?” I manage to say.
“I’m going to take you to my fishing camp,” he says. “You’ve never been there, but it’s real nice. You want the itinerary? I’m going to fuck you all night long. And when you’re completely fucked out, I’m going to take you for a boat ride and sink you three hundred feet into the bottom of Kentucky Lake. By this time tomorrow, your pretty head will likely be in a catfish’s belly, and your feminine parts will be working their way through the digestive tract of a giant paddlefish.”
I get out a nice scream before he slams the trunk door shut, but I doubt it was loud enough for the neighbors to hear.
He starts the car and all I can think about is how lucky I am.
I take a minute to thank the good Lord for providin’ such a hot night for my abduction, and for puttin’ me in the trunk of a car with a broken air conditioner.
As he starts the car, I remove my blouse and tie it around my face.
Then brace myself for the comin’ impact.
I feel the car backin’ up, movin’ slowly down the driveway. Feel it turn, stop, then lurch forward as Sheriff Boyd puts it in gear. Feel the right turn that leads to the open road. Feel the speed pick up. Hear the sheriff scream as the wind comin’ through the open windows stirs up the blindin’ powder on the floorboard. Feel the car losin’ control. Feel it swerve off the road and pitch forward, as if we’re goin’ downhill. Feel it crash into somethin’ sturdy.
58.
WHEN I OPEN my eyes I hear a lady’s voice say, “Do you know where you are, sweetheart?”
I say, “If it ain’t heaven, it’s gotta be Starbucks.”
“It’s Starbucks County Hospital, dear,” she says. “According to our records, this isn’t your first time.”
“I’ve never made it past Starbucks yet,” I say, “though I’ve tried eight times.”
“You were in a terrible automobile accident. It’s a miracle you survived. You’re a very fortunate young lady.”
“What did we crash into?”
“I’m told you struck a tree.”
“What about Sheriff Boyd?”
“He didn’t make it.” She pauses, then says, “I probably shouldn’t have told you that. Were you close to the Sheriff?”
“Not really. But I think he was hopin’ I’d open up to him more.”
She nods. “He was a good man.”
“He’ll be missed,” I say.
“Do you know your name, hon?”
“Trudy. Trudy Lake.”
“Good. Now that you’re awake, I’ll go fetch the doctor.”
“Wait. What about Sheriff Boyd?”
“He didn’t make it.”
“He’s dead?”
“That’s what I’m told.”
She starts to leave.
“Wait,” I say. “Am I okay?”
“You’re fine dear.”
“Did they take out my spleen?”
“Your spleen? No, hon. Why do you ask?”
“I dreamt they removed my spleen, and my husband, who’s really my brother, mounted it above the bed, next to his spleen.”
“Okay, hon, you’re hallucinating. You won’t even remember this conversation in a few minutes.”
“The hell I won’t!”
“I’ll be right back.”
“Wait!”
“Yes?”
“Has anyone contacted Dr. Box? From New York City?”
“Box? What sort of name is that? Just relax, Trudy. You’re still groggy from the medication.”
While waitin’ for the doctor I try to remember what happened. It’s just flashes right now, but I remember bein’ real dizzy and scared. I was havin’ trouble breathin’. Then I realized I still had my blouse tied around my head, and remembered the
powder. I kept the shirt there in case the powder was still circulatin’ after the wreck. I kept real still in case the sheriff was alive, and assumed someone would come along directly to offer help. But either time stood still, or everyone who passed by had somethin’ else to do. After what seemed like a long time, I decided to try pushin’ the trunk open. But when I reached up, all I felt was air.
The crash had popped the trunk open.
I staggered out, fell to the ground, and passed out for what might’ve been the second time. When I came to, I realized the car was on an embankment. That’s why no one stopped to help. They couldn’t see us. I made my way up the hill, then untied my blouse and put it on and tried to walk down the road. I don’t remember anyone givin’ me a ride to the hospital, but someone must have, ’cause here I am. I make a mental note to find the good person or people who helped me, so I can give them a proper thank you.
The doctor comes in and says, “I’m honored! You left at one o’clock this afternoon and missed us so much you went out and got a concussion less than twelve hours later. I believe that’s a record. How do you feel, Trudy?”
“I can’t feel my arms and legs. Is that the medication?”
“Excuse me? You’ve lost all sensation?”
“I can’t feel my arms and legs!” I shout.
His face takes on a panicked look.
I wait a moment, then say, “I’m just havin’ fun with you, doctor. I’m fine.”
“Not funny, Miss Lake. Not funny at all.”
The doctor’s wrong. It was funny. I know because when I called Gideon and told him what I said, he laughed hysterically for a whole minute!
Then he said he’ll be here in the mornin’, and won’t leave my side till we’re safe in New York City. Then his voice takes on a smug tone as he says, “I was right about you being in danger, and I was right about the powder. Is there anything you’d like to say to me? Anything at all?”
“Yes.”
“Go on.”
I say, “I can’t believe you fucked my sister!”
Then I hang up before he gets a chance to say anythin’ else.
THE END
If you enjoyed “BOX,” you’ll love
John Locke’s Gideon Box novel titled, “Bad Doctor!”
***** WOW! Bad Doctor is a wild, jaw-dropping story that is so funny you’ll laugh out loud. An amazing list of characters make every other book you read pale in comparison. I wanted it to go on for another 1,000 pages! A wonderful wild ride!
~ Ron Chicaferro (Scottsdale, AZ)
***** John Locke is a writing machine, cranking out multiple hit novels per year, and always entertaining me in the process. Bad Doctor introduces Dr. Gideon Box to the “Locke-verse,” another colorful character with some amazing personality defects that make the reader love to hate him. I was able to breeze through this fast-paced novel in only a day, which is par for the course with Mr. Locke’s novels.
~ Joe Barlow (Scranton, PA)
***** As of June 2012 I have read everything John Locke has published for Kindle. Every one of his novels is an easy read and will keep you entertained. “Bad Doctor” is a bit of a departure from Locke’s series fiction, feature an antihero that you will either love or hate. I hope to read more books with this character.
~ James Bower (St. Louis, MO)
***** Other 5 star reviews say it all. I’ll just add: pure blast of entertainment, 10 on a scale of 1to 10, and I never pause even a moment of buying any new Locke book…
~ David S. Drobner (Pembroke Pines, Florida)
***** This is probably one of the most bizarre tales Mr. Locke has written, but then again maybe not. There are, as usual, some very colorful characters. And every time I think about the co-joined twin assassins, I just can’t help but smile. It would just not be right if Rose didn’t show up, and sure enough she does. Can’t wait to read the good Doctor’s next adventure.
~ F. P. Right (NW PA)
***** Just a great written story. I wish we could see more books on this main character…..
~Thomas L. Wolford (Kent, WA)
***** I have read everything of John Locke’s that I can get my hands on and loved each one. I also have a great love for Donovan Creed, so much so, that I can definitely see the closeness of character between Dr. Gideon Box and Donovan. To me, it was a hilarious read. Most entertaining.
~ Linda L. Roy (Louisiana)
***** There is just nothing like a John Locke book! This is a brand new character, with a few old friends thrown in to thrill the faithful fans, but it has that Locke spin that no one else can give a book. As with everything John writes, it is a quick, fun, easy, entertaining read that makes you gasp one minute and laugh out loud the next. You start out hating this bad doctor but find out he has some redeeming qualities and really want him to come out on top in the end. I read this book in one day, could not put it down and have now added Dr. Gideon Box to my list of favorite characters that I want more of.
~ Mary E (Minneapolis, MN)
***** WOW!!! Another great new character from John Locke. I read all of his books and loved them all and this book did not disappoint me.
~ K. Miles (Chandler, AZ)
***** A fun quick read, that will have you turning pages, as this evil doctor gets himself into all kinds of trouble. Completely twisted, humorous, campy fun! Can’t wait for the next Dr. Gideon Box book. Thank you John Locke!
~ K. Parsley (Illinois, USA)
***** I have read every book that John Locke has written. Why? Because they are smart, creative and hilarious!
Bad Doctor is no exception. The only author I know to compare John Locke with is Nelson DeMille. The sarcastic humor and genius of John Carey is captured in each of Locke’s novels. Gideon Box is no exception and you will embarrass yourself by laughing out loud, rolling on the floor in public.
Highly recommend and can’t wait for John’s next book!!!
~ Frank (Johns Creek, Georgia)
Preview …
BAD DOCTOR
John Locke
PREVIEW OF
“BAD DOCTOR”
Introduction
I
I’M DR. GIDEON Box.
If you’re coming after me, don’t do it in a hospital.
That’s my domain.
And don’t piss me off in the real world and expect a smooth hospital stay in the future, because I have a long memory, and no one is exempt. If you’re not a patient but your loved ones are, I’ll harass them.
Before you bully me in a bar, embarrass me on a date, or refuse to replace the shitty car you sold me, think about this: you’ll never be more vulnerable in your life than when you’re spending the night in a hospital. You’re out of your element, drugged, and totally dependent on our schedules and personnel. When you’re here, you’re not family. You’re prey!
Your wife just had a procedure and needs her sleep?
Good luck with that.
I’ll swing by the nurse’s station, make a notation on her chart. Every two hours someone will be in her room, waking her up, changing her IV, moving her around. If you’re not guarding her closely I might slip in her room, flip her on her side, lift up her gown, check out her ass. Or maybe I’ll feel her up while pretending to listen to her heart with my stethoscope.
Don’t get me wrong. I have no interest in your wife’s nude body. I’d only view or touch her because I can, and because it’s another way to beat you.
You get what I’m saying?
Don’t fuck with me.
II
I DIDN’T KILL Joe’s mom last week.
I could have killed her, but one glance at her chart told me the hospital didn’t need my help. Her catheter should have been removed a day earlier. Since it wasn’t, I figured the nurses forgot it.
I was right.
Like ventilators, catheters are breeding grounds for infection. Sixty-five thousand patients a year die from infections caused by these two pieces of equipment.
I never
knew Joe’s mom, but thirty years ago Joe and I were on the sixth grade track team. A half-dozen of us were in the showers after practice the day Joe smacked my ass with a wet towel. I ignored it, but he kept smacking me. The others taunted me to do something about it. When I confronted Joe, he beat the shit out of me.
Picture me in a fetal position on the floor, clutching my stomach in agony. Now picture Joe and his friends pissing on me as a group, drenching me from head to toe.
Laughing.
Like I said, I didn’t know Joe’s mom, and didn’t kill her.
But I let her die last week from an infection I could’ve prevented.
III
I’M NOT AN angel of mercy. I don’t kill random patients.
I’ve got a list.
If you’re on my list, it means you’ve done something I refuse to forgive. It’s probably something minor to you, something you forgot long ago. But like the Stones said in the second best song they ever recorded, time is on my side.
Like everyone else in the world, you and your loved ones will eventually get sick or have an accident. And when you do, you better not come to my hospital, because I can kill you, maim you, infect you, humiliate you, frighten you, aggravate you, and generally fuck up your life in a thousand different ways.
Want an example?
I bet you didn’t know that every year three hundred hospital patients burst into flames during routine operations.
Three hundred!
You think all those are accidents?
Thirty-six items in a standard operating room can explode under the right conditions. What I’m saying, I can turn your chest into a fireball using nothing more than an alcohol swab and a hot cautery device.
So don’t piss me off.
And tread lightly, because I’m tightly wound. Every day it takes less and less to piss me off.
IV