51. Chapter 50
Chapter 50
Leon Aldon
I don’t know what I’ve done for Maeve to admit that she loves me, but thank fuck she did. She smiles more, initiates affection, comes out of the bedroom more often, and even talks more.
It’s nice. Things have been nice since that day.
I dragged her upstairs once I had Mark’s mouth glued shut, laid her out in front of the fireplace, and devoured every inch of my girl until she was crying and begging me to stop.
I made her cum on my face so many times that I'm convinced I was waterlogged the next day.
Let's just say, pussy is great for the complexion. I'd never gotten so many compliments about my skin in my life, which was weird but nice.
I liked knowing all these women were trying to flirt with me while basically reminding me how I had spent my evening the day before.
Today, I'm in a great mood. I'm going to visit Abby in the care facility. I'm going to tell her that her pregnancy test came back negative and that all four of her assailants were in a car accident that unfortunately resulted in their deaths.
Usually I make sure the bodies are never found, they simply go missing and nobody actually gives a shit what happened to them, but Abby and all of their other victims needed this to get closure.
Plus with how much money those idiots had, their parents would have searched for them. I'm not worried about my skills, but I don't want Maeve to have a reason to worry.
So, I staged them in one of the idiot's cars. I don't even remember which. I picked the one who had the worst tires and crashed the car into a telephone pole, making damn sure it caught fire. I also threw more liquor bottles than I could count in the car to burn with them, just so the cops would assume what caused the wreck and not dig too much into it.
I was prepared to have to bribe the coroner to take blood samples from someone else, someone I'd even offer to bring in. I knew if he took the blood of the men, he'd see that they had already been embalmed and it would open a full investigation that I'm not in the mood to waste money dealing with, but luck must be on my side.
I strolled into the coroner's office early this morning to handle this situation when he informed me that the boys had already been cremated and the investigation was closed by a family member.
I assume the dad of the kid I put in the driver's seat simply refused to deal with a lawsuit from the other families.
Smart.
He just has no idea that he covered up his child's murder and saved his murderer quite the headache.
Now for the fun part of my job, the part where I get to have Abby released and hopefully see a smile on her face. I stroll into the treatment facility directly after the coroner's office; the receptionist flashes a bright smile at me as soon as I walk through the door. "Good morning, Dr. Aldon. What can I do for you today?" She asks sweetly.
I give her a charming smile, showing her my credentials even though she doesn't ask, she's supposed to. "Morning, I'm here for Abigail Marino." I say.
I can tell this receptionist is trying her best to flirt with me, but I'm choosing to ignore her until she says or does anything that indicates she thinks she has a chance. That I won't let slide; nobody gets to think they have a chance with me but Maeve.
"Right this way, Leon. And might I say, you look handsome today. Did you get a haircut?" She asks. She puts her hand on my forearm as we walk together down the hall.
Yep, I don't like that.
Before Maeve, I would have allowed this behavior, and I might have even had a one-night stand with her. Now, her neediness is just embarrassing. "I did; my wife said it was getting a little too long. And it's Dr. Aldon." I say flatly.
I grin at the way her face drops when I say wife. I have to suppress a laugh when she rolls her eyes at me correcting my title, too. I didn't go through 12 years of college to let someone in a professional setting call me Leon.
I wish I could have taken Maeve with me to see the look on Abby's face when I told her about her attackers. They wouldn't have let her through the security checkpoints, but she would have loved the way Abby looked so relieved to hear about their deaths. She would have had to hide a laugh that Abby felt guilty for being happy that they died. I know she would have given Abby the warmest hug she's probably ever felt and told her some bullshit about karma and the universe looking out for her.
I bet Abby would have eaten that shit up; actually, I think I might tell her that.
"I'm so sorry, Dr. Aldon. You must think I'm psychotic for being happy, but I don't have to be scared anymore." She says timidly.
This poor woman, I shake my head at her, plastering on a warm smile.
"You know, if my wife was here. She would tell you that the universe delivered you the karma you deserved. It's okay to be happy about that; it does not make you a bad person to feel safe without those men walking free." I explain to her kindly.
Abby smiles, a warm smile, one that I'd never seen on her before. I bet those were frequent before her attack. I plan to help her smile more and to move past this as long as she stays under my care. "Your wife seems wonderful." She says sweetly.
I can't deny that. Maeve is wonderful. "She is. She's a few years behind you, but she goes to the same college as you." I brag happily.
I haven't told Maeve yet, but I am going to pay for her to finish her degree. I don't like that she had to get scholarships and student loans to pay so far, so I'll also be paying those loans back. "Really? What's her major? Who is she? I might know her." Abby says sweetly.
Any chance I have to brag about my girl, I'll take. "She's in botany, specializing in conservation. Maeve Henderson, we haven't changed her name yet. We're waiting so her diploma can have her maiden name." I lie.
Well, it isn't a total lie. Her diploma will have her maiden name, and I do plan to marry her.
"I don't think I know her..." Abby mentions.
I didn't figure she would. The two had vastly different social lives, but it does give me at least the smallest amount of peace that my girl wouldn’t have been in the social circle that could have gotten her attacked by Mark and his idiots.
"She doesn't go out much, she prefers to stay home when she's not in class." I simplify. It isn't a lie, even before I locked her in our home, she was never one to go out much.
I speak with Abby for a while longer, far longer than a typical billing session, but I don't mind eating the cost of that.
I already charge far more than anyone else in Houston. The perk of being considered the best psychiatrist in the state is that my price doesn't matter. I give breaks to those with low insurance if they come to me, but most people don't bother to schedule a consultation if they don't have the insurance to cover it.
By the end of our appointment, I'm confident that Abby is not a threat to herself. She will need very close care, possibly for years to come, but I don't believe she is in danger of hurting herself. So, I will not allow her to stay in this facility unless she wants to.
I offer her the choice of staying and continuing her care, promising to be waiting for her when she feels comfortable to leave or to go home, and we will have twice-a-week sessions to begin with.
My goal for her is to eventually drop down to monthly sessions, or even less, depending on how she is dealing with her trauma, but we’re a long way from there.
The most important part of her healing process is to make sure she feels like her decisions aren’t being taken from her like they were that night, so that is why it’s her choice whether she stays here or goes home.
I can’t say I blame her, but she decided to go home.
I wouldn’t want to stay in a mental facility either, I’ve done it before and do not recommend it.
They’re cold, the food sucks, somehow everything smells like turtle dick, group sessions are worthless, the outfits are uncomfortable, and frankly the care is subpar.
They’d rather medicate you than handle the underlying issues, but they’re the best place for full-time supervision.
Thankfully, Abby doesn’t require that.
She needs help to get past what has happened to her and even more help accepting that the danger of those men is gone, but that’s nothing I can’t handle in the office.
I do, however, give her my office number and tell her to call whenever she needs me. That number will forward to my cell phone in emergencies and I’d rather be woken up by a panic attack than have to send flowers to her funeral.
I’m sure Maeve will agree.