5. Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Leon Aldon
I've been in a fucking terrible mood for the last two weeks, I'm irritable, exhausted, and overscheduled.
Luckily, my patient load is lower a few days this week, which gives me the time I need to take a little drive to Arlington.
I've been planning this trip for weeks, ever since that almost patient of mine killed herself.
I've just been a little too busy to get it done until now.
I hate that.
I hate that this girl's father is under the impression that he got away with how he treated her, but he basically has.
Until now.
Denise had shown up at the police station that night with fresh strangulation marks around her neck and the blood vessels in her eyes had burst.
She was in absolute hysterics and she had a witness, yet somehow this fucker still got away with it.
Maybe because she was only 16 at the time?
Her dad showed up at the police station, claiming he wasn't allowing his daughter to talk to the police without a guardian.
Maybe she froze up?
Fuck, I don't know.
We never got to talk about it, but I read the police report when she booked a consultation.
She had more than enough evidence to get him locked up for attempted murder, yet the entire case was thrown out and she was left with the only option being to run.
So this asshole has a spotless record and a dead child.
I doubt he even cares that she killed herself.
I wish she was my patient at the time. That way, I could have had a reason to speak to the father, an excuse to see if he even feels the slightest hint of remorse. I doubt that he does, but I intend to find out.
It's late in the afternoon by the time I reach Arlington and find the trailer park Mr. Sam Fredrick lives in relatively quickly.
I don't have the energy or the patience to drive all around this fucking town to find this guy.
As soon as I pulled up in front of his trailer, I realized I had made a mistake driving my car here.
I stick out like a sore thumb when I look around at all the beaters in everyone else's driveways.
Meanwhile, I am driving a brand-new luxury car.
Fuck, I should've rented a fucking minivan or something before driving here.
Whatever, it's too late now.
I head up the small, half-broken wooden steps until I reach his front door. I can smell the cat piss, cigarettes, and alcohol before the door is even open. It's making me debate how much I really want to walk into this place.
Fuck it, I already wasted my entire day off driving here. I'm going in.
I knock loudly on the door and wait, hearing the blaring of crappy reality TV and the creaking of cheap and rotting floorboards until Sam opens the door.
And let me tell you, he looks exactly how I pictured.
Bald, out of shape, and an angry-looking fucker in an ill-fitted wife beater that has a few too many mystery stains.
He’s definitely the type of guy who would wrap his hands around his 16-year-old's throat and try to strangle her to death for walking in on him watching child porn or whatever the fuck happened.
He’s exactly the type of guy I picture partaking in that kind of shit, too.
Disgusting fucking pig.
I feel sick just looking at him and I can't imagine what Denise dealt with her entire childhood. I just hope her mother was in the picture and that she wasn't a total piece of shit like this guy.
“Can I help you?" He asks with a huff without even bothering to take the cigarette out of his mouth or his hand out of his pants.
I plaster on a fake smile, trying not to make a face at the rotten beer and cat piss smell of him and his home. "I am Dr. Leon Aldon, I was sent to check on the family of Denise Fredrick, are you Sam Fredrick?" I ask calmly.
I know it's him, I made sure to look him up. I always do my research.
He’s 52 years old, lives alone, works as a truck driver for a small company, has almost nothing in his retirement, has no other kids, is divorced, and is a loner. According to what I've found, even his coworkers hate him.
No surprise.
Sam reluctantly lets me inside when I spew off some bullshit about the city of Houston owing the family money for his daughter committing suicide in a public space.
I don't know why he even bought that.
Wouldn't he think, if anything, bystanders would be suing the family for emotional trauma? Not the other way around.
Dumbass.
But it got me in the door.
We sit and talk for a while, I ask the standard questions I would ask anyone that I actually give a shit about going through something traumatic like this. He gives me the responses I had already assumed I'd get from him.
He's not surprised; she was a troubled teen; she ran away from home for no reason when she was 16, and he hasn't heard from her in years. He tried to drive to Houston and find her, but he couldn't.
Everything I had already anticipated hearing.
I was hoping he was remorseful, I was hoping that he was at least upset that his only child is dead at 19 years old, but he isn't.
Fuck, I'm more upset about her life being cut short than he is!
She never got to live. From what I researched about her, she had a work-from-home job, she never interacted with the outside world, and she moved every year.
She didn't have her name on her door or her real name on her mail.
She was so terrified of running into her dad that she basically died the day she ran away from home.
I hate that for her. I hate that I couldn't save her, but I will avenge her.
When Sam heads into the kitchen to grab a new pack of cigarettes, I spike his beer with the lorazepam I had brought with me. I know how much it should take with a man his size, but I double it anyway.
If this fucker wakes up halfway back to Houston and pukes in my car, I'm killing him right on the spot.
I don't have the patience to deal with paying to get my car detailed.
I guess my secretary could schedule it for me…
Why am I thinking about this right now?
Fuck, my head has been all over the place lately.
I'm telling myself it's because things have been hectic and I've been waiting to meet Sam, but I know it's that young hippie girl from the cafe.
I know it's because I'm wondering who she is, what she's doing, and where she's at.
Does she have a boyfriend?
She better not have a boyfriend, I'll fucking kill that guy.
Is she a student?
I wonder what she is majoring in. She looks like she'd major in art history or something like that. She looked like the kind of girl who likes art.
Maybe I should start to learn more about art.
Fuck, no. Focus.
It takes far too long for this asshole to finally pass out, pissing me off even more. I'm going to have to throw this outfit away. I'm sure the stench of this place is going to seep into my clothes.
Fuck, it's going to make my car stink too.
God dammit. I hate this guy even more now.
I drag Sam outside, thankful that he lives at the end of the trailer park and that the several others around him are all vacant.
I don't have the luxury of being stealthy when I'm hauling around this stinking pile of lard.
I hogtie him, hoping if he wakes up, he's humiliated, and I duct tape his mouth.
I make sure it's a little too tight, digging into his skin as I wrap layers upon layers of thick gray tape around his entire head. I basically mummify this fuckers entire head, only leaving his nose open so he can breathe and only because I don't want him dying in my car.
Now, let's go home, Mr. Sam Fredrick.