CHAPTER TWENTY
“Yoz? I need some more Demerol for treatment room three,” said Alden.
“More? That’s a lot of drugs for that young woman,” she frowned. He nodded at her with a grin.
She returned with the tray, a syringe, and the vial and left him there to attend to another patient. It had been almost a week since he lucked up and found the job in the little town. So far, no one was the wiser on his licensing issues but he knew that would come soon enough.
At least for now, his mother was off his back. She was doing what she did best. Spending money and collaborating evil with the other old bags in her group.
In the early days, he truly believed that Johns was his biological father. He was a good, kind man, always doing things for the son he believed was his own. Alden was happy, content as a child with his idol.
When his mother made the decision that they would no longer be living with him, he was devastated. No explanations, no excuses, just a cruel argument with the man to tell him that he was not his biological son.
Alden remembered seeing the devastation on the man’s face. He demanded DNA tests and once again was shocked to find out the truth. By that time, his mother was already on to the next victim. Andrew Winslow.
Winslow was indifferent to Gloria having a child. He didn’t care if he was there or not there. He cared that his wife presented well on his arm. That worked for a few years and she was on to the next one. Richer. Better looking. And the most important thing. Older.
Otto Harper was a small, bespeckled man with big ears and a strange odor of onions always permeating from his skin. By then, Alden was in college and working toward his own goals. What his mother never knew was that it was all due to the generosity of Carlton Johns.
In spite of knowing the boy wasn’t his biologically, he’d provided a small trust for him. Enough to attend college and then medical school. Luckily, Alden’s mother knew nothing of it or it would have been gone.
When Harper died mysteriously on a hike with his mother, no one seemed suspicious. Alden couldn’t believe it. Harper had more allergies than anyone he’d ever met. He was asthmatic, suffered from bunions, and didn’t walk any further than the front door to his car. Yet no one questioned the death.
That’s when Alden knew. His mother was paying everyone for their silence and if they weren’t silent, she’d silence them herself.
Lawrence Talbot seemed a different kind of man. Tall, beefy, strong from years of hard work. He was even-tempered, but smart and astute to clues around him. He’d been kind to Alden, always willing to hear his complaints or ask him how life was treating him.
He almost felt sorry for the poor bastard. Almost.
In the end, blood was thicker than water and he couldn’t turn away from his mother or what she needed. They were in this together now and without the money from Lawrence’s death, he would be sent to jail. He had to find a way to leave the country.
“Doctor? Dr. Johns?” called Yoz.
“Yes? Sorry, yes, Yoz?”
“We’ve two kids coming in caught in a combine. We may have to reattach an arm.”
“Call orthopedics and see if they have someone available. That’s not something I can do by myself. If they’re not available, we need medical air transport.”
“Got it,” she nodded. “Sure glad you’re here, Dr. Johns.” He smiled at the woman and nodded.
“Yeah. Me too.”