Shots Fired

“Now Ms. Rodgers,” said the shrink as he leaned back in his chair, creating a steeple with his fingers under his nose. “How can I help you?”

                Bethany had sat in the chair directly across from the shrink, and the investigator stalked behind her, near the fireplace. He was fidgeting around and she could make out the sweat that was saturating his underarms. He darted his eyes to her and then over to the shrink. He knew what was going on. How? Did the voice tell him? No, he wouldn’t have.

                “Thank you for seeing me,” said Bethany as she gently placed her briefcase on the desk and flipped it open, shielding the shrink’s view of her momentarily. She didn’t like his eyes, they seemed to hold a mild humor and a deep curiosity that made her feel as if he were trying to pry his way into her soul.

                She grabbed the letter that the voice had slipped her from behind the curtain. It was in a plain, white envelope. She hadn’t seen the contents of the letter, yet; she doubted she ever will. Bethany closed the briefcase and in a sharp fluid motion, she pulled it off of the desk and placed it on the floor to the right of her chair.

                “My client,” she began. “Mr. Brooks, would like me to deliver this letter to you and a message.”

                She held out the letter to the man, who had taken it from her gently with both hands. Odd. He looked at it with a sort of interest that a child would have with a bizarre, green vegetable that their mother was expecting them to eat. He opened the top drawer of his desk and quickly dropping into the space below.

                He then looked back at her and smiled, “Now, what is the message?”

                “Mr. Brooks wants you off of this case,” she said plainly. “He said that he doesn’t care for your unprofessional means of investigation, and would kindly like you to step down and find a new project.”

                The shrink didn’t seem fazed by this, based on his lack of reaction to the news, he probably expected it.

                She held her head up high and gave him a polite smile as she blankly stared into her eyes. What was behind these eyes? They looked like dark coals wrapped in an emerald light that cut into any plane they gazed on.

                He smiled at her. His eyes did not.

                “Was there anything else that you needed?” he asked very slowly, as if he were relishing on each syllable as they escape his mouth.

                “Well.” She was caught off guard, slightly. Was he not going to give her an answer? The voice was not going to like that.

                “Yes?” he asked. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. Bastard.

                She smiled back across the room, trying to erase trace that she has been taken aback, or felt uncomfortable.

                “That’s all I have, thank you for your time.” she snipped and stood to take her leave.

                “You’re very welcome.” He replied. “I look forward to continuing working with your client, and I suppose now I have the privilege of working with you, as well. I’m sure we will be able to get to the bottom of this mystery.”

                He smiled up at her from his seat.

                “Unfortunately, you are no longer permitted to speak directly with my client, if you choose to remain on the case. I will make sure of that.”

                Still seated the shrink chirped, “Oh, we will see about that miss.”

                She could feel her joint grow stiff and her body tighten up. She jerked around and looked in square in the eyes and dove deep into the abyss inside.

                “Yes.” She pointed at his chest. “We will.”

                She quickly turned around and marched across the large office and yanked the door open and turned around, “And if I catch you making in sort of contact with my client without first going through me, I will personally insure your terminal removal from your position. Do you understand me?”

                Without waiting for an answer she spun on her heal and marched out of the office and down the hall, the inspector at her heel like a little dog.

                “Don’t let him fool you!” the shrink called after her, but she brushed it aside as she was already concerned about how she was planning on getting out of this labyrinth.

The Corn Snake Preteneds to be a Rattler for Intimidation Purposes Only

“Ok,” said the inspector as he stood in the hall way with the head nurse. “I agree, I don’t see any other way that this can be done.”

                “I’m glad you understand,” said the nurse as he looked knowingly at the man. “I feel like it would be too dangerous for us to attempt to move him without using a sedative.”

                “We are going to need to get permission from the judge in order to put him under again,” said the nurse. “You’ve already kept him here past his twenty-four hour holding period.” He gave the inspector gave him a stern look.

                “Well what were we supposed to do? The maniac was bleeding out in his cell,” exclaimed the man. He then threw his hands up to his forehead and grimaced, “Oh shit…”

                The nurse place his large hand on the investigator’s shoulder and asked, “Are you alright?”

                “Yeah,” he replied, shrugging off the nurse. “Just a hangover.”

                Last night had been a total disaster, not that he remembered much of it; just visions of the shrink sneering down at him, him toppling out of a chair, and throwing up on the carpet. He could remember a fight, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it had been about. That worried him. He hated the idea that that creep may or may not have something over his head. He likes to pretend to be all innocent and clever, but he really is only a dirty little sneak. Sometimes the investigator wondered if the shrink was the monster that he should really be fighting.

                “I have something in my desk that might help you,” offered the nurse.

                “Nah, I’ll be fine,” muttered the inspector. “I’m going to go ahead and find that judge to get your approval. Let me know if anything important happens.”

                “Will do,” said the nurse. “Drink lots of water, you’re dehydrated and need lots of liquids.”

                The inspector just gave him a dark look before turning around and stalking down the hallway.

                “Why the hell couldn’t he have just text me this? Making me walk all the way over here and then back. Does nobody you the damn phone anymore?!” he muttered to himself. He wasn’t feeling very charitable today.

                “Hey!” called the nurse behind him.

                “God, what is it now?” he mumbled to himself. He turned back around and tried to put on the best polite smile he could muster. “Yes, sir!” he called down the hallway towards the advancing man.

                “I forgot to mention,” said the nurse. “The lunatic has got himself a lawyer.”

                The inspector searched his face for any sign that he may be kidding, “Are you serious?” he asked.

                “Yes sir, it was some fierce, little woman with a fancy suit and briefcase,” he said. “She looked like she meant business.”

                “Well, that’s not good,” said the inspector, almost to himself.

                “No sir,” agreed the nurse.

                “Where is she now?” the inspector shot a glance back towards the room where Mr. Brooks was being held.

                “Not here anymore,” the nurse said. “I over-heard them talking in there. I think she is going to go see that shrink.”

                “Oh shit,” swore the inspector and he took off down the hall way. He had to get there before she did. This was going to end so badly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

                It seemed like she had been around the building at least twice, and there was no sign of the shrink’s office. She began to wonder if her client actually knew what he was talking about. He had been through a rough couple of days, on top of whatever psychological ailment that he obviously was suffering from. No. that’s not right. He wasn’t suffering, she suddenly realized. Besides the fact that he was in a prison hospital, he seemed just fine and dandy. Maybe that’s what was so unnerving about him; you knew he was sick, but not because he told you or showed it.

                She walked by the elevator for the third time, and sighed. She was getting nowhere. She looked down at her watch to see how long she had been pacing the halls, but then she realized that she didn’t know what time she had gotten up here. That’s not helpful. Maybe she should go back down? She could go back across the street and tell the voice that he had gotten it wrong. But she stopped. She couldn’t do that.

“Your dispensable,” the voice crept through her mind. He would surly fire her on the spot.

                She glared at the elevator button, maybe she could go back and tell him that he wasn’t in the office? But then he would just send her back over here with a note to put on his door. Maybe she could just knock on of the other offices and ask for directions? And look like a child who lost their mother in the grocery store!? No way. If she was going to get to the shrink, she was going to do it on her terms, with her own power.

                She turned at the heel and began to trace her steps back down the hallway, when the elevator gave off a soft chime and the doors slid open. She turned and faced the elevator, squared off her shoulders and put on the best professional smile she could muster. Not too big to look fake, but not too small so that it makes her look creepy.

                A man wearing an extremely wrinkled suit jumped out of the elevator and looked manically both directions until his eyes landed on Bethany. Before she could shield herself with her bag, the man had sprung over to her and grabbed her arm. She tried to pull away, but he had her in a vice grip. “Hey buddy,” she said. “What the hell do you want?!” He smelled of bile, and she didn’t even want to know the origin of the stain on the front of his white button up. He reached behind him and pulled out his wallet and flipped it open saying, “I am the head investigator on the Brooks case.”

                She looked into his crazy eyes and said, “I’m so relieved. Now what the hell do you want with me?”

                “Are you Mr. Brooks’ attorney, Bethany Rodgers?” he pulled her closer to his body, which made her begin to resist the urge to throw up all over the red carpet.

                “Yes, I am,” she stammered. “Now let go of me!”

                He released her and crammed the wallet back into his pocket, “You shouldn’t be up here, ma’am. I’m going to have to escort you back downstairs.”

                “You don’t understand, inspector,” she shot back at him. “I have an appointment with the court psychologist on behalf of my client.

                The inspector held the door open to the elevator and began motioning her in and said, “I’m sorry but you don’t…” but was cut off by a new voice that had entered the hallway.

                “How do you know what my appointment schedule looks like?” Bethany looked up at the other man that had joined them in the corridor. He was much taller than the inspector; however, he was much thinner as well. He had sharp features and rather large eyes. He wore awkwardly casual clothing, jeans, sneakers, a t-shirt with a blazer over it, and his hair was rather long and shaggy.

                “Ms. Rodgers, I assume?” he looked down at Bethany.

                Bethany straightened up and squared off her shoulders again and reached out her hand to the man in the blazer, “I am Bethany Rodgers. Would you mind if I had a few words with you in your office?”

                The man smiled and took her hand in a firm grip; she was almost alarmed by how long and boney his fingers were. “Of course not,” he said cheerfully. “Right this way!” and he lead her off in the direction she had originally came from.

                Of course, she thought to herself, she had just missed it.

                “Come along, if you wish inspector,” called the shrink behind him at the dumbfounded officer. He was still stationed at the elevator beckoning Bethany in, with a look of morbid shock on his face.

Out of Como and into the Labrynth

“I want you to get me the hell out of here!” the voice still echoed in her head as she quickly walked back out of the prison. The hoots and catcalls followed Bethany, but she paid them no mind. Only the dark voice that haunted her footsteps had power over her.

But why?

What made him so strong?

                Never let your guard down. That’s the lesson she learned from growing up in Como. You had to fight to get what you want and you had to fight even harder to keep it. These thugs in here were nothing. But the man in the hospital was different. He sent chills down her spine that even her Daddy couldn’t do. And that piece of trash labored continuously to try and scare her back into the hood. But this man, he seemed to strike fear effortlessly. He was very pleasant, yes; but there was darkness in his voice that crawled under your skin and wrapped itself around your bones. A darkness that couldn’t be masked.

She nodded to the guard that let her out of the prison and she stepped out into the sun.

Thankfully the press wasn’t here today.

If what she learned from Mr. Brooks… she paused. Her client. Her first client.

If what she learned from him today was anywhere near the truth, everyone had gotten it wrong.

This was big.

She crossed the street to the police station, where the psychologist worked.

                “He has an office on the top floor, “ the voice had told her.

She looked up at the four story building. How was she supposed to get all the way up there to see him? Does he have a secretary that she would need to go through? Would they even let her off of the first floor? Calm down, girl. You’re over reacting. She felt her fingers go cold and she needed to pee. There was no way she was going to be able to handle this.

                “You are dispensable, my dear,” haunted the voice in her head. “You have simple task. If you fail me, I will get another one, just like you, and when I am free, I’m going to hunt you down.”

                She clutched her briefcase tightly with her left hand. She didn’t have a choice. It’s like her Mama always said, “Time you put your apron on and put up with the heat, you aint got nowheres to go, child.”

                Mama was the reason she became a lawyer. After that slimeball of a father beat her to death, the family couldn’t afford a good lawyer to get that monster in jail. She swore that day, the day that he walked free just after his arrest, that she would never leave a family in the position that they were left with, ever. Even if she didn’t have to charge the family. Monsters belonged in stories and behind bar, not in the home.

                Bethany pushed through the doors of the police station and squared off her shoulders, that’s what her Mama would do when Daddy came home. She would tell her, “It’s a lot easier to push over a sack of potatoes than a brick wall.”

                The building inside was a cluttered mess of desks, filing cabinets, whiteboards on rollers, and people all bustling around in some sort of bad parade. She walked past the front desk, towards the elevator sign in the back. She didn’t even look at the young woman at the desk, with just one glance she could tell that it didn’t matter what she did, Bethany wasn’t going to run into any problems from her. The girl was leaning back with a compact mirror in her hand, plucking at her eyebrows. Her long blonde hair was in a messy side braid that seemed to pour over her shoulder and into her lap bellow. She didn’t even look up at Bethany as she past. What a trashy white girl, thought Bethany. She smiled to herself, she probably wouldn’t know what to do if a black person were to suddenly start talking to her. Ah, Texas.

                Bethany weaved her way around the different desks and people. Only a couple looked up at her briefly, but no one spoke to her, or asked what she needed. She guessed that’s what happens when you look professional and walk in like you own the place. She had no trouble making it to the elevator, she pressed the button and the doors opened conveniently for her. She stepped in quickly and pressed the button with the Roman numeral for four printed on it. The doors closed and she let out a deep breath. This was crazy. Absolutely crazy.

                It took only moments for the door to chime and the electric, female voice to say, “The fourth floor, watch your step!” The doors slid open again and she walked into a totally different atmosphere. She stood at the intersection of two hallways. A dark red carpet lay at her feet and the walls were divided in décor with a top half and a bottom, separated by a crown molding that had been painted a similar shade as the carpet. The bottom half of the walls were painted solid black and the top half were alternating stripes of dark and light grey. It was very aggressive, she thought.

                She stepped off the elevator and it closed quietly behind her. She looked down each of the hallways, not really sure where to go now. The voice hadn’t given her a name of this psychologist, he just kept repeating, “That damn shrink!” She assumed that he was some sort of court psychologist, otherwise, why would he have an office in the police station?

                She walked up to the first door and examined the gold name plate that had been screwed into the dark wood. It read, “Stacy Mattus: Deputy Police Captain” Thank God, she thought to herself, at least the name badges had their title written on them. She would just have to walk up and down the hallways until she found the shrink.

               

                She looked behind her, towards the elevator, this was going to take a while. She had no idea how large this floor was. It could take up a whole block for all she knew! She crept over to the next door, trying not to interrupt the eerie silence that the hallways had created for themselves. The next door was for some sort of judge. It was going to take a miracle to find this place before dark.

Breaks in the System

He set his wine glass down and ran his fingers through his hair. There was a bitter taste in his mouth that made his throat dry. He looked up at the ceiling of the office and closed his heavy eyes for a moment before refocusing his attention back on the shrink, who was leaning on his elbow smiling over at him. There was a mild humor that danced around on his face that the inspector couldn’t decide if he wanted to slap or laugh it off.

                “You did this on purpose,” the inspector slurred as he pointed his finger at the shrink.

                The shrink just responded with a sheepish grin.

                “We are fucked, you and I,” said the inspector as he leaned back in his chair. There was no way his body was going to support him sitting up strait again for a while.

                “Yup,” was the response.

                “So,” asked the inspector. He paused and his eyebrows met and he looked like he was focusing on the edge of the table. He then looking up at the shrink suddenly and asked, “Did we learn anything important? Anything that we can actually use?”

                “Well yes,” said the shrink plainly. “You need to get that judge to approve some medical testing. If we can show, in court, that the specimen has brain abnormalities that will leave him incapable of successfully functioning in society, then we will surely get him incarcerated for life. No question about it. All we have to do is keep that little shit from getting ahold of a lawyer.”

                “Do what?” asked the inspector.

                “That’s your job,” the shrink explained. “If you can keep him from seeing his lawyer for long enough, then we…”

                “Too late,” said the inspector. He didn’t make eye contact; he was busy starting down the empty bottle of sangria, whose contents had mysteriously disappeared.

                “Excuse you,” said the shrink.

                “I had to sign the paperwork authorizing a Bethany Rodgers, clearance to meet with her client,” said the inspector, still examining the empty bottle. “Dirty ho,” he said under his breath.

                The shrink slammed his fists on the table and stood up.

                “God damn it!” he yelled as he grabbed a stack of papers off his desk and threw them across the room. “You had one job!” he jabbed his finger at the intoxicated inspector.

                “Me!?” defended the inspector. “How is it my responsibility?! That’s the way the justice system works! You commit a crime, you get caught, you get a lawyer, and you get your case heard.”

                “I know that!” hollered the shrink. “But at least you could have given me more time!”

                “Since when is it my job to make sure to mediate the consequences of you feeling up the defendant anytime the mood strikes you!?” The inspector was somewhat on his feet now and red in the face.

                “I did what was necessary to get this maniac from killing more! Do you have any sympathy for those whose whole worlds came down around their ears because of this monster?” demanded the shrink.

                “Any idea!?” roared the inspector. “Was it you who had to go through confession after confession of people sharing with me how much of a great person this girl was? Did you have to tell the blind grandmother that her granddaughter had been slaughtered? Do you have to walk into your office every single fucking day and see the before and after shot of that girl hanging on your wall?! Do you have to spend every waking minute pouring yourself over this dick’s life and wonder to yourself what fucked up life that someone had to go through to get to this point? Do you dread what you’ll find because of the fear that his story may be even more heart wrenching than what you’re currently working on? Are you filled with this polarizing desire and fear of finding another victim?! We know he’s out there! How long will it be before I find another body?! What happens if we don’t!? This kid has parents out there looking for him. Not a clue that this lad is probably dead in a ditch somewhere.”

               The inspector was shaking, hands balled into fists. His face was totally red and he had tears streaming down his face. He glared at the shrink who stood quietly across the room looking him up and down.

                “Don’t you fucking judge me,” continued with inspector. “That’s all you do. You just sit up here in this office of yours doing whatever the hell you want! You just collect your data. Don’t talk to anyone. Keep your fucking nose in your books and when the mood strikes you, you go out and disrupt the system for your own gain! You don’t care about this case, that girl, or that poor man locked up down at the prison! You find it all fascinating and neat and it’s just a fucking picnic to you!” the inspector paused, looking the shrink up and down and spat on the office floor. “You stand there like you’re better than me: Stoic and regal, like there’s nothing in the world that could bring you down. I hope that lawyer fucks your shit up. You’d deserve it.”

                The shrink stood speechless as he watched the inspector hobble back out of the office. He fondled the door handle for a moment and turned back around and faced the shrink, “Why did you lock the door?”

                “The door isn’t locked,” the shrink replied calmly.

                “Oh,” said the inspector. “Ok.”

                He tried again and the large, wooden doors opened. The inspector smiled to himself and used all of the strength he had left in him to pull the doors apart, revealing the dark hallway beyond. The inspector yelled down the hall, “Who turned off all the light!? Where is everybody?”

                “They went home over three hours ago,” said the shrink calmly. “You’ve been in my office for over five hours.”

                The inspector turned around and asked, “What time is it?”
                “Half past twelve,” said the shrink.

                “Fuck you,” muttered the inspector. He then proceeded to bend over and threw up all over the office floor.

Tinker Bell and the Curtain

Bethany Rodgers walked briskly down the hallways of the country prison. Leather briefcase in one hand, cell phone in the other. She ignored the catcalls and hoots of the inmates as she walked past them. Her tunnel vision was focused in on the back of the guard in front of her. She held her head up high, and squared off her shoulders, she had to look powerful and confident. Her tall, black heels clacked on the concrete floor and echoes across the prison. They knew she was here.

                The guard opened a barred door and led her inside. They seemed to be in a hospital of some sort. Nurses were running back and forth, some with carts, others with wheelchair bound inmates, and others with just clipboards and stethoscopes. It was true entropy. Each had a look of slight panic on their face. They were nervous. She could smell it.

                They walked straight down the middle hallway that was littered with people and cart. They weaved themselves through the obstacles and marched to the very last door where a large, nurse met them. She looked him right in the eye as they shook hands.

                “I am the head nurse of this facility,” he introduced himself.

                “I am the attorney the court assigned to be Mr. Brook’s defense,” she replied.

                He gave her a skeptical look and replied, “Pleasure.”

                “I’m sure,” she said as she gave his hand a tight squeeze before letting go. “Is there anything I need to be made aware of before we go in?” she continued without missing a beat.

                The nurse chuckled to himself and said, “Ma’am, you are going to have your work cut out for you. There is one sick puppy in these walls,” he motioned to the locked door, “best not get bit.”

                The nurse punched in his pass code for the door and with a small buzz she could head the deadbolt in the door unlock. The nurse placed his large hand on the handle and pushed it in, but didn’t move from his spot. “There you go Ms. Rodgers,” he said, almost cautioning. She took a deep breath, straitened her shoulders, and thanked the guard and the nurse and walked into the dark room beyond.

                The lights was only dimly lit, she looked up at the florescent lights and realized that most of the bulbs were shattered in their sockets; the ground was littered with the glass. Small surgeon utensils lay here and there on the floor. Projectiles? In the middle of the room there was a large curtain that created a barrier between her and the client.

                “After he woke up,” whispered the nurse. “He became violent demanding for an attorney. We couldn’t risk the nurses’ wellbeing as they did their rounds and checked up on the patient. We didn’t have a choice but to put up the barrier.”

                “I see,” she said. “Is it sound proof, or is he sedated again?”

                But before the nurse could answer a voice from behind the curtain responded, “What do you think, Tinker Bell?”

                “I am your attorney Mr. Brooks,” she quickly said, straightening herself back up. “Bethany Rodgers,” she introduced.

                “Send the fat nurse away, Tinker Bell,” said the voice. “We have some catching up to do.”

                Bethany looked nervously up at the nurse. He tried to meet her gaze with a reassuring look, but it didn’t give her any comfort. He just handed her a small clicker and whispered in her ear, “If anything goes wrong, click this and we will be just seconds away.”

                She clutched the device tightly in her hand, he palms began to sweat as the nurse walked back into the hall way, closing the door behind him.

                The door made a small buzzing noise.

                They were alone.

                She turned and looked at the darkness ahead of her. She couldn’t see around the curtain, and she had no plans on trying. What was she supposed to do now? She could feel her chest flutter, and her bladder grew tight. She straitened her skirt and began to walk towards the curtain. The little voice in her head was screaming in her head. She shouldn’t be here. She needs to leave. Press the button. You’re going to get hurt. Run. Run.

                “Sit down,” the voice commanded.

Right.

Sit down.

It will be ok.

This was just business.

Paycheck.

Money.

                Bethany walked over to one of the desks and pulled a chair out and dragged it across the room. The legs sent a scraping noise that etched its way into her brain. She grimaced, slightly embarrassed. She felt like a middle schooler awkwardly dragging her chair across the classroom.

                She set her briefcase next to the chair and sat down. Legs crossed. Pen and pad handy. Head held high. Waiting for her next command. She felt more comfortable with the invitation; however, the voice in her head told her to place her chair in direct line to the door. She couldn’t risk getting trapped. Always have an escape exit. That’s what her father always said. Never turn your back to the door, or the known enemy.

                “Tell me, Tinker Bell,” said the voice behind the curtain. “How far are you willing to go in order to get your money?”

               

The Whore is a Dirty Little Prude

It’s been too long, the shrink thought to himself. He’s going to wake up any second. He’s got to be. The shrink looked back around him. There was no one in the room. Of course not, you would have heard them walk in. He looked down at the specimen and snapped another picture with his penis next to a ruler. “Eight inches,” he whispered to himself. That wasn’t remarkably large. He testies were not of any significant circumference, either. That rules out the possibility of a high testosterone production.

                The shrink grabbed the ruler off of the specamin’s leg and took it and the camera back to the table where he had lain out his backpack. He reached in a grabbed his notebook and scribbled down the information he had gathered and tossed the book back into the bag. He sat down in his chair and looked at the naked body in front of him. It seemed to still be in a state of unconsciousness. His breathing was deep and heavy. His body had relaxed after the pounding it had received earlier.

                He reached into his bag again and pulled out a voice recorder. He got up and walked back over to the body and stood over it. Since he didn’t have this video recorded, he would have to settle with just a voice recording. He flipped it on.

                “July eleventh; investigation of endogenous biological makeup of specimen. After forcing the specimen to flex his muscles, it had been determined that he could possibly possess a significant amount of strength. This leads me to question what the diet and exercise habits of the individual are.

                Upon investigation of the body, it seems like the specimen has medium to low amounts of body hair on the torso area. Average amount of hair under the arms and legs. However, it seems like the specimen grooms and trims himself in the genital and anal regions.

                Penis size was above average at 8”; however, not extraordinarily large.  The testes were also not of noteworthy size. This leads me to question how the vast amount of testosterone is being produced in order to commit the violent acts the specimen has,” the shrink took a breath and looked back over the body. What are you hiding? He wondered.

                “Note to self,” he continued. “Schedule a MRI and a CAT scan for the specimen when I get back to the office. We need to look at the prefrontal cortex activity, the dopamine production in the nigro striatal pathway, luteinzing hormone production in the pituitary gland, and the size and testosterone production in the kidneys.”

                The shrink flipped off the voice recorder and walked back over to his bag. It was time to get out of here. He had gathered everything he could with an unconscious patient. He’ll have to get him into some scans and then try and do a couple more interviews with him. There were still many things that were still left unanswered. He wondered if the inspector had tracked down the specimen’s parents yet, they could potentially tell him everything he needed to know.

                He zipped up his back pack and tossed his onto his shoulders when he heard a voice behind him, “She thought it was big enough.”

                The shrink froze, he could feel the adrenalin wash down his cheeks. His body grew stiff as he heard a soft chuckle behind him. He had to stay cool. He had to be the adult here. The specimen was the mad man tied up, even if he did scream, no one would believe him, right?

                “Did you hear me?” the voice behind him asked again. “She loved my big cock. In fact, at one point she begged me to have sex with her; do you want to know why?”

                The shrink, slightly intrigue, kept his back to him and didn’t answer the question.

                “I asked you a question, doctor,” the voice taunted.

                The shrink gulped and asked, “Why?”

                “Why, what?” was the reply/

                “Why,” the shrink paused. “Why did she ask for you?”

                The voice cackled behind him, “Oh doctor! You’re not fooling anyone! We both know you’re one sick puppy! Don’t try and speak down to me in your proper diction, lying to yourself that I don’t know anything about you feeling me up for the past twenty minutes. You’re a dirty man, your mouth should match.”

                “What do you want?” asked the shrink.

                “I want you to ask me why,” said the voice.

                The shrink felt himself shake slightly, it was getting cold in here.

                “Why did she beg for your,” he cleared his throat. “your big cock?”

                “Because if I was fucking her, she was still alive,” was the reply. “She wanted to stay alive. They all do. That’s how you play the game. The cock or the knife. Everyone chooses eventually. Even you.”

                The shrink turned back around and looked at the specimen. Each of his muscles were cut into his body, like they were chiseled into stone. Each one of the restraints were pulled right, and his hands were tight fists. His head was tilted on its side and he was looking at him. His dark eyes were glaring at him; however the rest of his face was smiling like he was a kid in a candy store.

                “So, doctor,” he asked. “What’s it going to be?”

                “I choose the knife,” the shrink replied.

                “Very well,” he whispered. “I want a lawyer. You won’t be on this case much longer, I’m afraid.”

Shattered

“Excuse me miss,” the inspector asked the young woman at the guest service counter at the old folk’s home. “I was wondering if you could tell me if this woman,” he showed her a picture of the victim’s grandmother,” was currently residing here?”

                The woman leaned over and lifted her glasses up to study the picture. She was too young to be doing that. She’s what? Twenty-five? Thirty?

                “Oh yes!” she exclaimed. “I love her, she is so sweet. Are you…” she paused.

                “Her distant relative,” he quickly lied. “I hadn’t seen my aunty is so long.”

                She smiled sweetly and said, “I’ll take you to Jenny, she is the nurse in charge of her care.”

                “Thank you,” he said as the young nurse lead him down the white hallway into the labyrinth of wheelchair bound patients, doors leading to bed ridden residence, and adjunct hallways running off into various rooms for the staff.

                As the young woman took him along the turns and straightaways of the home, the inspector kept wondering what was going through some of these people’s minds. Did they even have minds? Was this just a place to put people who couldn’t think or do for themselves any longer? Would he end up like this? He would look down on the some of the patients and they all were smiling up at him, but few seemed to still have the spark of life behind their carved out eyes.

                What were they thinking?

                “Right this way,” chimed the young woman as she led him out one of the doors into a large courtyard. There were very few people out on this bright sunny day; and those that were, had their nurses tensely pacing back and forth along the perimeter. They were out in the open. Danger. This wasn’t a controlled environment. They had to get them back in. Safe. Control. Clean.

                They were like wild cats, pacing along the walls waiting to pounce at the first sign of anything. They were like spiders, waiting to pull their prey back into the web. They were like grackles, clustered together, plotting their flight. Animals.

                The young woman lengthened her stride and walked straight up to another woman, who seemed to be slightly older. She sported a short, pixie cut and a whole array of metal pierced into her ears. Hey bright blue eyes were striking when paired with her jet black hair. That couldn’t be real. He ran his eyes around her scalp line, looking for smudges. Had to be fake.

                The inspector waited patiently at the edge of the courtyard, just in the shade. He watched the banter of the two nurses back and forth for a moment. This “Jenny” the young nurse had told me about seemed to be the “Mama bear” of the old woman. If she said to the audience, what should he do? Flash a badge? Arrest her? That would be great for the papers, “Cop arrests nurse to interrogate innocent old woman!” In this business, no one was innocent. Who knows, this old woman could have been in on this kidnapping of her granddaughter with Mr. Brooks.

                Don’t trust anyone. That seemed to be the message of his life. They stressed it in the academy, you learned it real quick in high school, in fact, even his family taught him that lesson a few times. Especially his father. Never trust anyone. People only look out for themselves, screw the rest of the world. That’s what this life seems to be able with some people: they will take and take and take, and when you sit back and have nothing left to give, they run out.

                He squinted his eyes against the sunlight towards Jenny. He didn’t trust her. Maybe it was her fake hair, twenty-something piercings, or the fact that she had to hide her tattooed wrists to come to work every day (which she didn’t hide well); he didn’t like her. It didn’t matter whether or not she “let” him see the old lady, it was going to happen. Jenny was not God. Mr. Brooks was not God. And he would crack this case, even if it killed him.

                The two women approached him from across the lawn, the young woman was all smiles, as usual; however, Jenny was searching the man up and down with her eyes. Her lips were pressed together, making them a straight white line. When they reached him, she leaned on her left him, crossed her arms, and her right eyebrow went sky high.

                The inspector reached out his hand towards her, “Hello, ma’am.”

                She just stared at his hand for a moment before looking back up at him and she said, “This woman has been through hell and back. She doesn’t have any known relatives, except for her granddaughter and her fiancé. Who are you?”

                Her direct approach took the inspector off guard for a moment. Down girl.

                He cleared his throat, “To be honest,” he looked over at the young woman who had helped him get this far. “I’m actually an inspector, I’m looking into the case of the murder of a young woman, whom I believe to be this lady’s (He motioned to the old woman in the wheelchair, several feet off) granddaughter.” The young woman’s eyebrows when up and her mouth dropped. “I’m very sorry, but I didn’t want to cause a commotion,” he said apologetically to her. He looked back up at Jenny, who was squinting at him, still in the same offensive position. She still didn’t trust him.

                “Show me the badge,” she said.

                The inspector shrugged and reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it up and showed the women his badge. Jenny looked it up and down meticulously, she probably thought it was a fake.

                “Is that enough? May I go speak with her now?” he asked.

                “No,” Jenny said flatly.

                “And why not?” asked the inspector.

                “That poor old woman in going to die here in the next few weeks, she has no family left, if what you say is true, the news of her granddaughter’s death is going to break her heart. I can’t let you torment her like that,” she looked over her shoulder and smiled at her little patient.

                She really did care about the woman, thought the inspector. He would have to be more gentle with this.

                “I can’t let you destroy what she thinks she has left in life,” she whispered. “It wouldn’t be fair.”

                The inspector cleared the space between Jenny and he within two steps. He placed each hand of her shoulders. She froze and looked up at him, half scared of what may happen to her, half furious that he even think of containing her.

                “I agree,” he said softly. “It’s not fair. But we can’t do anything about that.” He searched her eyes. They were like glaciers in a sea of ice blue water. “It also wouldn’t be fair to not tell her,” he said. “And we can control that.” She squinted up at him. She wasn’t going to buy into this nice guy routine.

                “Now,” he said, time to play the bad cop. “We have two options.”

                “Oh yea?” she asked.

                “Yes,” he replied firmly. “You can either let me go see her right now, and I can get the information I need. I’ll be kind, considerate, and gentle. Or, I can leave now, return tomorrow morning with a warrant and ten other cops, who will all be in uniform, we will search the whole place, arrest you for obstruction of justice, and be forced to take grandma into custody to interrogate her back at HQ. Now, Jenny, which do you think would be a more damaging experience?”

                “You are a monster,” she spat.

                “No,” he said. “I’m trying to catch a monster and no one is going to get in my way.”

                She glared up at him. She hated him, but he didn’t care. After today he will never see her again.

                “Follow me,” she said darkly. “I hope you get a real kick out of this.”

                “Thank you,” he replied.

                The two of them left the young woman standing at the edge of the courtyard with wide eyes. She had agreed to stick around to show him back out of the home. Poor girl. She didn’t know what she was getting herself into.

                Jenny squatted down next to the old woman and placed her hand on her shoulder.

                “Excuse me,” she said.

               “What is it dear,” asked the old woman as she reached her hand, covered in veins and age spots, up to grab Jenny’s.

                “There is a man here wanting to speak with you,” Jenny replied.

                The old woman caressed Jenny’s hand and asked, “What about?”

                Jenny looked back at the inspector, her eyes were full of tears and she had the wrath of God in her eyes, she replied, while looking him in the eyes, “He wants to speak with you about your granddaughter.”

                “Oh!” came the woman’s reply. “Send him right over here!” Her voice of full of joy.

                The inspector’s eyebrows scrunched up together and he could feel his heart thumping in his chest. It felt like it was trying to push sludge through his veins.

                Jenny reached out her other arm, he took it. She was crying now, her face was read and her jaw was set. “I’m so sorry,” he mouthed to her, but she just glared at him and guided his hand to the old woman’s shoulder.

                “Here he is,” Jenny told the old woman, choking up.

                The old woman’s searching hands grabbed onto the inspector’s wrists and guided him around to the front of the chair, where she grabbed his other hand in hers.

                Her face was covered in wrinkles, and her long white hair was free in the wind. She had a smile on her face as she looked just to the left of him, where the sun was shining down on the two of them. However, her eyes were gazing off in a completely different direction. The inspector’s stomach dropped, she was blind.

                “Now Mr. Brooks,” said the old woman. “Tell me how my sweet granddaughter is doing, I haven’t heard from either of you in several months! How did the midterms go last March? Are you prepared for your finals?”