Chapter 20 The Vigilante
Chapter twenty
The Vigilante
If there was one thing I hated almost as much as I hated sick pedophile fucks it was their damn lawyers.
Brandon's public defender was also his power of attorney, since he had no relatives willing to take responsibility for him, and he was nothing more than a thorn in my side.
A sleazy, greasy-haired, rat-faced thorn, still a thorn nonetheless.
Sitting around my office waiting for almost an hour after our scheduled phone call wasn’t how I wanted to be spending my afternoon.
I’ve spoken to him a few times during Brandon's stay at the behavioral clinic, and each time left me feeling like I needed xanax.
Nothing his lawyer did or said was going to change the outcome that was going to befall his client.
He would never get the opportunity to lay his hands on another innocent child again.
At fifty-two minutes past twelve p.m. the phone finally rang.
I had half a mind to let it go to voicemail, but I wanted to get the experience over with sooner rather than being stuck playing a twisted game of phone tag all afternoon.
I had a session with Raelynn that I wasn't willing to compromise for this asshole. I could still taste her, could still feel how her soft lips felt against mine. It was unethical as fuck, attempting anything with one of my patients, only the rules didn’t apply when it came to her.
I had to stop myself from thinking about how her hands gripped me, and how I longed to feel that tight grip on my cock.
It was fucking wrong, how quickly she’d become an obsession of mine, but I found that I really didn’t fucking care as I answered the phone.
I’d already crossed one ethical boundary the first moment I decided to take someone else’s life; what was one more indiscretion against me?
“Bradshaw,” I stated shortly, not even trying to mask the annoyed tone in my voice.
“Daxton! How are you, my good man? It’s Leo Hall, Mr. Everett's attorney.” He sounded happy—he always did. His joyous demeanor was as fake as his hair, which not even a comb over could hide the awful toupee he wore.
I didn’t bother answering his question; pleasantries weren’t usually needed when dealing with attorneys.
“I assume you have news regarding Mr. Everett?”
“Yes, wonderful news in fact. Thanks to his extended stay in his program at the clinic, I’m very hopeful his jail time will be minimal, if he sees any at all.
Since he’s been in solitary and was able to sign the release so I could speak with you, I was hoping you could relay the news at your next session with him?
You must be doing wonderful work with my client. ”
I wanted to groan, but I didn’t, jail time or not, Brandon Everett wasn’t leaving this clinic alive despite what his attorney thought.
I couldn’t go telling him that, though. Convincing him to sign the release so his lawyer and I could directly communicate was both an idea of absolute brilliance and sheer stupidity since the prick now enjoyed using me as a carrier pigeon for messages to his client.
“My next session with him is tomorrow morning. I’ll be sure to let him know; it might lift his spirits,” I casually said.
“Pardon? What do you mean by "lift his spirits”?”
“For the past several weeks, Mr. Everett has been showing signs of clinical depression. I suspect it’s possibly guilt over what he’s being accused of.”
“I’m sure he’ll snap out of it,” Leo said dismissively. I doubted he would retain a word I was telling him since it sounded like he already had the case already figured out. “Just keep me updated if anything changes. I’ll be in touch with his release date.”
“I’ll make sure to do that,” and I’d make sure to pretend to be extremely empathetic when he gets the call that his client didn’t survive his battle with my brand of depression.
He said a few more pleasantries with little meaning behind them before hanging up. With family members of clients that needed my help, our conversations were usually more productive. Snakes who represented their sick fuck clients didn’t deserve the attention to detail I gave to the people who did.
For the past few weeks, I made sure my notes on Brandon reflected a depressed man.
A man who struggled with a severe internal battle over the damage he caused his family.
It wasn’t hard to manipulate the facts. Therapists weren’t required to record any of our sessions; HIPAA laws typically prevented things of that nature.
Brandon only helped my case by acting erratically when he was with the group; he couldn’t keep his nasty thoughts to himself, even if his life depended on it.
I’ll never understand how he was able to get close enough to the little girl when he couldn’t even control himself around grown women.
I doubted I’d ever get the chance to peel back all his layers to figure that out.
Being truthful wasn’t his strong suit, and patience when it came to pedophiles wasn’t mine.
My annoyance level would have been bordering on becoming full-blown rage if I didn’t have my session with Raelynn to look forward to.
The thoughts I was starting to have involving her were slowly taking over every one of my waking hours.
I wanted everything from her; she wasn’t just under my skin—she was an essence floating through my very veins.
Locking up my office, I made my way down the stairs to her hallway.
I didn’t have to hunt for her long once I heard her laughter from the hall.
When I rounded the corner to her door, my suspicions were confirmed, only Kendi had been able to make her laugh like that, so open and freely, since she’d been committed here.
Raelynn was sitting facing her friend, both of them cross-legged on her bed, a deck of playing cards between them. Rae’s back was to me, so she didn’t see me leaning on the door frame, watching the two of them for a moment as they continued their card game.
“What game could possibly have the two of you so amused?” I asked when they started another round of gut-busting laughter.
Raelynn jumped as I spoke, nearly falling off the bed, but Kendi grabbed her arm even though she was also suffering from a renewed fit of giggles. Rae placed her hand against her chest, still laughing despite almost falling off the bed and being startled.
“Go fish,” she said through a deep breath as she tried to calm herself down, her chest heaving with the effort.
“I didn’t realize go fish could be so entertaining.” I couldn’t help the smile that formed on my face. The two of them together were almost infectious to anyone around them.
“Sorry, Mr. Bradshaw, girl stuff—you wouldn’t understand,” Kendi remarked as she started gathering the cards from the bed.
I wanted to pry—it was my nature to want to know everything—yet I also wanted Rae to continue to have this bond with someone during her healing phase.
Kendi was like a dose of Miracle-Grow in her garden, a steady ray of sunshine against Raelynn’s shadows.
She would need her friend’s positivity just as much as she would need my depravity.
“I almost forgot about our session today,” Raelynn chuckled, getting up from the bed and walking over towards me.
“Good thing I didn’t forget about you,” I whispered just loud enough for her ears alone to hear as she got closer, causing goosebumps to rise visibly against her pale skin. I loved seeing what my voice alone could do to her.
Her hair was pulled back into a bun at the base of her skull, and the long-sleeved army green sweater dress she was wearing had a scoop neck that left most of her neck and chest visible.
The shoulders of the dress were wide enough on her frame that the fabric almost hung off her.
I'd bet money she was going without a bra today, judging by how freely her ample breasts bounced as she walked, unrestrained by the additional fabric and wires.
She said goodbye to her friend, promising to meet up with her for dinner later.
As much as I’d love a repeat of our dinner together, I at least knew better than to make a habit of it where other staff could see me acting out of the ordinary with the patients.
I let her lead the way up to my office, opening the doors for her as we went.
Our walk was silent, almost reminiscent of the first time we had an individual session, as much as I wanted to speak to her, I couldn’t. Not yet, at least. Being in public was one thing, but once we were behind closed doors, it was like entering our own private world.
I unlocked the door to my office, letting her take her usual spot on the couch while I took my seat in my chair.
This time, I didn’t bother to take out my notebook for her session.
Anything she said or did would be retained perfectly in my memory at this point, and Dr. Stephens never asked to look over patient notes.
He trusted my judgment regarding my patients in both professional and personal aspects.
“How are you today, Rae?” It was an impersonal question, one I hoped would set her at ease, since she seemed as nervous as she had been on her first day.
“Really?” She snipped. “After what happened on our walk yesterday, that’s how you decided to start? By asking me how I am?” Her tone had bite, but her fingers gave away her nerves, fiddling nonstop with the fringe on the pillow she had pulled into her lap.
“Which part? The support systems we talked about, or the fact that I kissed you?” I was calm and collected. The simmering rage I had felt earlier with Mr. Hall long since evaporated once I had laid eyes on her.
“The support systems, you didn’t give a clear enough definition, and I was a little confused, almost googled where to find a crack dealer instead.” She gripped the pillow in her fists, knuckles almost white against the force she was clinging to it with.