36. Jack
36
JACK
Dread and anticipation lace my heartbeats as I prepare to confront Scalpel—John Cooper, the man who ruined my childhood. Thankfully, I have Ava by my side, my rock and pillar of strength.
We arrived in Tampa last night. The flight from Helena gave me ample time to feel anxious, but I had someone else taking care of that for me—baby Quinton. Well, to be precise, it was Quinton and his entourage, Morgan and Tyler. The journey was easier than I anticipated.
We just finished our breakfast at the hotel.
“I owe you guys,” I say to Morgan and Tyler.
“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Morgan says. “It’s like a second honeymoon for us. Only with a baby.”
Ava smiles at her best friend. “Consider it practice, Mrs. Hunt!”
Morgan looks at her husband for support, and Tyler seems to be on Ava’s side. “Well, she’s not wrong, baby,” he tells his wife.
“Babe, I love kids,” Morgan admits, her hand tickling Quinton’s belly, sending the baby to giggle and bounce in his chair. “But it’s nice to be able to hand them over to their mother when you’ve had enough.”
“I won’t pressure you, Wolf Girl, you know that,” Tyler affirms, calling Morgan’s nickname. The couple shares a kiss until Tyler reminds himself, “We have a lot on our plates. In fact, I’m actually on the clock here.”
Red Mark, or rather, my brother Sam, insisted that Tyler come with us to be Quinton’s official bodyguard while Ava and I visit the prison.
“Can we go now, Ava Belle?” I whisper.
Her eyebrows burrow. “Our visitation isn’t until this afternoon.”
“I want to show you something.”
She agrees, and after settling Quinton with Morgan and Tyler, we head north. Her hands are on the steering wheel, but she never forgets to reach out to me every now and then. Sitting next to her, I admire her fearless nature, having gone a step further than just knocking gloves with her once formidable fiancé. I’m certain that Quinton will grow up to be just like her.
“Here,” I say, pointing to the St. Leo monastery.
Ava slows down, taking in the view of the 1930s complex. “You grew up here? It’s almost unbelievable.”
“Sister Laura found me wandering around there.” I point at the west corner of the abbey. “I was drunk and completely drugged. But I remember… I remember her holding my hand and leading me into a kitchen. My God, the warmth and the smell of fresh pumpkin soup. Yeah… as far as I know, my life started then.”
Ava wraps a hand over mine. “Bless Sister Laura. I wish I’d met her.”
I nod, thinking that it would have been wonderful. When Ava and I met in Bozeman, I was on bereavement leave from the Marine Corps after Sister Laura’s passing. It dawns on me, the sentimental tie that exists between the woman I saw as my mother and the woman I fell in love with when we first crossed paths.
I say, “I owe it to Sister Laura. For a while, I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t even walk properly. I was called ‘Snowflake’ then because I was so pale.”
“So, where was that butcher shop? You know, that black and white photo of you.”
“Oh, that sidewalk? It was about thirty miles from here.”
“So you roamed around.”
“I have no recollection of it, but I guess a picture paints a thousand words. Yet I came back here.” I gaze at the corner where Sister Laura found me. “Amethyst Avenue is about a block away from here. Whatever I was thinking, escaping that place, only to circle back?”
“It saved you.”
“I guess,” I sigh. “Like I said, Scalpel never had a permanent base. He abducted me in Syracuse. And then we must’ve moved from place to place until we ended up here. But he had a pattern. He chose a place near a church to hide his victims. That was his signature. As if asking for forgiveness from God while committing his despicable act.”
“Perhaps he was making fun of the Big Man, doing the sin right under his nose,” Ava argues.
I scoff as I motion to her to drive on, getting closer to Amethyst Avenue without her realizing. By now, I should’ve been an emotional mess, surrounded by the air that belongs to my nightmare. But I’m not.
“Where to now?” Ava asks innocently.
I make a bold request. “Drive me there, please?”
“Jack… I don’t think it’s such a good idea.”
“Please. ”
She reluctantly agrees. Following my instructions, we make our way to the sinister house—Scalpel’s one-time fortress.
“I don’t remember this building, yet I hate it.” I take in the details of the house as I step out of the car. The paint on the walls is peeling, and the roof is weathered. “I learned from Sam that our mother died of a broken heart. It’s all because of the man who used to haunt this place.”
The door to the basement is broken, neglected by whoever resides there now. I pass it by. I never even contemplated going back into that repulsive prison cell. Instead, I explore the gardens, looking for the ventilation that keeps appearing in my nightmares.
I find myself on the eastern side of the house. Approximately five paces from the front, I squat, using my bare hands to dig the soil against a wall.
Damn.
There it is.
I don’t have a detailed memory of this place, but the darkness and putridness stay with me. Along with the presence of Scalpel.
“Jack… Jack… baby!” Ava’s voice sounds far away, but as she keeps calling, it gradually comes to me.
My hands freeze, being held by Ava. I don’t realize they’re trembling, my fingers bent, desperately scraping at the paint surrounding the ventilation.
“I’m sorry.” I expel air rapidly. “This is me, Ava. This is what I meant by being broken beyond repair. I have nightmares about this place almost every time I close my eyes. I never meant to hurt you in my sleep.”
“You never hurt me, Jack. And you’re not broken.” Her grip on my hands turns gentle, her eyes understanding. “We’re working on it. I keep a safe distance when it happens, and it hasn’t been as violent as that one morning.”
“How am I meant to confront him?”
“With me,” she determines, then engulfs me in her arms.
It’s moments like these that remind you why fighting alone is the way of the doomed. Partners may come and go, affiliations form and break. Nothing in life is permanent, nothing is faultless. I’m aware a man can never be perfect. But I know I’m whole because this amazing woman is by my side.
Ava pulls herself away so she can appraise me. “Meeting Scalpel won’t cure your nightmares, but those demons will know they’re dealing with both of us now.”
I take her left hand, breathing into her soft knuckles. She has left her prosthetic at the hotel to avoid any complications during entry into the prison. The authorities have strict visit regulations. Even bras with underwire can result in lengthy searches.
If Ava can get over her nightmare of losing her finger, I should be strong enough to handle Scalpel.
Ava stands in front of me, her stature below my shoulder. I can still see the house behind her, unobstructed. Despite this, her aura is larger than her physical presence as she speaks. “Your nightmares and heartbreak will always be a part of you, but perhaps they won’t cripple you as much as they do now.”
Pausing, Ava tilts her head in thought and then adds, “Actually, I take that back. You were never crippled. You’ve been fighting your nightmares for me and for yourself—and I believe you’ve risen above them.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you’re here. You could’ve walked away from me, dealing with your nightmares as you always knew how—in private. But you didn’t. You’ve chosen to face them with me.”
Those words fill me with a newfound sense of liberation. I won’t let John Cooper break me ever again. I’m not my nightmares. I’m fighting them. She said it. I swear on God’s name, she’s the only one I’ll ever believe in.
Checking her watch, Ava glances at me and says, “It’s time.”
We enter the Florida State Prison with Ava acting like my bodyguard. She leads the way as if making sure I never step onto unfamiliar territory. After going through several checkpoints and getting searched, we enter the visiting room, where an officer ushers us to a table.
I turn to Ava, appreciating her effort to be my guardian angel today. “I’m okay now,” I tell her.
As we wait, inmates begin to emerge. Finally, the last man walks out and takes a seat at the table next to us.
“We’ve been stood up,” I complain to Ava in a whisper. It seems the coward couldn’t bring himself to face me.
Ava asks the guards for information, but their responses leave us empty-handed.
Just as we’re about to lose hope, a silhouette emerges. The stocky figure moves with a noticeable limp. Nothing about him strikes a chord of recognition except for his long, dark hair. Its thin strands possess a slight wave, tangled in places.
Clad in his prison garb, John Cooper appears puffed up with edema. There are no distinctive features on his face—so ordinary that he could pass for anyone walking by on the street. As I had hoped, the monster is toothless.
Prepared as I am for this moment, being in the same room as the haunting monster rekindles my primal urge. My fingers tingle, itching to wrap around his neck and delight in the crunch as his throat snaps .
Ava’s touch on my hand dissolves the thought, guiding me back to my safe place.
“John Cooper.” I greet him in a dull manner, stripping away any sense of significance he might have.
The sixty-year-old man scoffs, rolling his eyes with disinterest. But he has no choice; he has to face me. I observe the creases on his face as he forces a smile, perhaps thinking this meeting was a joke. For so long, I could only imagine what he looked like based on slivers of clues from my nightmares. In my mind, he remained forever in his thirties. Now, seeing him as an ancient warlock, years of torture felt like a mere second.
Cooper leans forward. “What’s your name again? It’s completely escaped me. No offense, I just have too many to remember,” he dribbles, moving his mouth as if gritting a toothpick.
I stay silent, keeping things to myself.
His attention shifts. “But this lovely lady? Now, that is a face to remember.” He leers at Ava. “What’s your name, honey?”
Ava stares at Cooper with venom in her eyes, showing her amputated finger as a warning. Damn, the man looked away. I bet he has never encountered someone like Ava West before.
“She’s my girlfriend,” I declare firmly, wrapping my arm around her waist, keeping her close.
Cooper twists his mouth as if he were spitting out the invisible toothpick. The scumbag knows I’m no longer his victim. He’s alone, paying for his crimes, while I stand on the other side, a free man.
“Touching,” he jeers. “But I still can’t remember your name. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you were one of my cargos back in the day. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”
“My name isn’t important. I just want to know what you did to me. ”
“How could I do that when I can’t even remember your name?”
“Kidnapping is a game of faces, Mr. Cooper, and you do remember me. Because I was the one who got away. Just like the boy who sent you here.”
The prisoner grunts.
“Come on, Cooper,” I taunt him. “You’re in here for life. I’m sure you won’t mind sharing how you broke me once upon a time.”
“I destroyed you! You’re done for!” His face contorts with bitterness. “But that fucking Castro mini-me? Gotta hand it to that boy.” He waves his index finger repeatedly, probably regretting the day he got caught. His eyes scan left and right as if considering a confession. Suddenly, he turns around, making me instinctively shield Ava. A guard approaches, but Cooper’s actions aren’t meant to harm us. Instead, he lifts his hair, revealing something hidden.
It all clicks into place in my memory. The tattoo on the back of his neck. That’s why he always keeps his hair long. I recall seeing it once before when his hair was inadvertently brushed aside during the chaotic moments of him chasing me or me desperately trying to escape from him.
I mockingly ask, “So that boy recognized you because of your tattoo?” Taking my time, I burst into laughter. “Did he ever say it resembled the shape of a poop emoji?” I wait for Cooper to process my comment, but he remains indifferent. I challenge him, “So what did you do to me?”
“Like I said. There are too many to remember. But let me tell you, you all had one thing in common. Your wails, the smell of your fear and hopelessness—you were all the same!”
The way he describes it triggers something in my head, like damaged film clips flickering on a massive screen. “You tried to kill me, but your knife only inflicted a surface wound. I was bleeding, but I still got away,” I grit. “By then, I was already addicted to the drugs you constantly loaded me with. You staged my bloodied clothes, convincing everyone I was dead so the investigation would cease. But guess what? I got away right before your eyes.”
He hangs his head in defeat, knowing that he won’t be able to forget that.
I continue taunting him. Why not kick him while he’s down? I say, “And here’s the best part. I ran far, but you know, I came back. I was found by a nun only a block away from your sin house. You could’ve gotten me, but I guess God has a funny sense of humor. I slipped…right. Under. Your. Nose.”
“Fuck you! You’re nothing but trouble!” His voice bears no substance, as if uttered by a playground wimp.
Satisfaction sings in my heart like a choir. The man has just admitted that he remembers me. I lean in, lowering my voice. “Nobody will remember your name, only the man with a tattoo resembling a pile of shit.”
Cooper scratches the back of his neck. Perhaps no one had ever told him that.
I rise to my feet and take Ava’s hand. “Come on.” I help her up, then we head toward the exit.
But something halts me—Cooper’s distinct call, which my brain suddenly recognizes, the reason why I got the knife wound on my back.
I turn around as the prisoner is about to be escorted inside. I declare proudly, “Actually, my name is Jack Kelleher— the troublesome one .” My voice echoes, momentarily pausing the mutters and chit-chat in the room. “And you’ll remember that for the rest of your life.”
With my head high, I walk away, firmly gripping Ava’s hand. There are still five minutes left in the visitation, but that man doesn’t deserve even an extra second from us. He may still haunt my nightmares, but as Ava said, we’ll face it together. And with my mind filled with her love, thoughts of Quinton, and dreams of our future children, he will be nothing more than a speck of dust.
As soon as we reach our car, I kiss Ava.
“Thank you.” There’s nothing more I can say to her. The rest is in my eyes, on my lips, and in my shivers.
“You did it, Jack.”
Tears choke my voice as a wave of numbness washes over me, transforming into comforting relief. Ava pulls me into her arms—an irreplaceable source of calm after relinquishing a lifetime of fear.
“ We did it, Ava Belle,” my voice breaks at the end of my sob. “You have no idea how much I needed you in there.”
“I’m always here for you. But don’t forget, I need you too—I always will. There’s no safe place quite like you.” She rubs my chest as if feeling its strength.
“Let’s go home.”
“Where’s home for you, Jack?”
It’s the easiest question I’ve had to answer. “Montana. My family is there.”
“And your demons?”
I lift her chin. “They’ve met their match.” Hell yeah! This woman is stronger than any demons I’ve faced, and I’m humbled that she still seeks my protection.
“Let’s go home then.” Ava grins, holding on to me.
“Actually, can we make a detour?”
She cocks her head. I bet she has no idea what surprises await her.
I whisper close to her ear, “Just you and me, and Quinton.”