HOUSE OF BROKEN SOULS Part 28
Warnings: This Chapter: None. Overall: Slash, sexually explicit content, graphic violence
The fiction includes a mental illness storyline. I am not qualified in mental health, everything I know about it is googled. It's fantasy folks, please don't shoot me though helpful criticism is always welcomed.
*Not real. The folks aren't mine. No damage intended.
Lia (Cheebles) is still with me for help & support for which I am very grateful (hugs)
The message came in a 4.15pm, too short to convey the gravity of it’s message, never enough to encompass the grief of parents, family and friends. The bodies of Fay Greenway and Nancy Albright had been found and everything that Jensen had predicted was proving heart wrenchingly true. He skimmed the details and pinned the them to his ever increasing wall of information. He would examine it later, rake over the minutiae. For now they had another lead. He printed the camera stills he had made and studied them.
The van was unremarkable, white with black lettering ‘Painter’s Mobile Snacks’. What made it interesting was the two separate schools it was pictured at, the dates and the grainy image of Fay Greenway purchasing something from the man stood by the van, the faint blurry image of a dark haired woman offering something to a small child in the background of one of the stills.
He sank the pin through the photograph and moved on to the mugshot of James Painter a 45 year old ex-con, with a record for aggravated assault, sexual assault and battery. There were no pictures of James’ wife. She had no convictions, was barely a blip on the radar with Baltimore Police. There was a note that her middle-class parents had made a complaint to local police, reported her missing at 18, shocked and appalled that their intelligent, well educated daughter had run-off with a rough, uneducated man almost twice her age.
It was a familiar family drama enacted nationwide on a daily basis. The girl confirmed she had left willingly and the family were left to deal with the fall-out on their own. That was 10 years ago now and the only recent pictures police had of Emma Painter were grainy stills, back to the camera, from street cameras opposite two schools. Descriptions of her were sketchy at best, slight build, dark hair, dark eyes, a pale face and a quiet demeanor. The Baltimore office joked that they were looking for a 28 year old, cookie-baking psychopath and that description filled Jensen with an irrational disquiet.
There was nothing more that could be achieved for the day. Jensen ran his hands through his hair and palmed his face. He breathed deeply, reminding himself that the day’s events, whilst sad and horrifying in equal measures, also represented progress. There was a glimmer of hope that, given the right circumstances The Game could be stopped for good. It was a Tuesday. He would go home and rest, grab a meal and get changed to meet Mark at Milligan‘s. He would listen to his news and fake surprise. He would encourage him to walk away and pretend he didn’t need him.
***
It was Tuesday. Jared surveyed the Glenview parking and noting that there were no spaces he haphazardly directed his SUV into a gap, half on the grass, half over the ‘no parking lines’ . It would probably earn him a ticket but it wasn’t blocking anyone’s route.
The evening air was getting chilly, Jared slipped a jacket on as he walked away from the car. A car door opened as he walked beside it and Jared had to sidestep quickly, almost losing his balance. A man emerged, cigarette in hand. “Sorry man. Y’OK.” Jared nodded affirmation and carried on walking, picking up pace a little. Something about the way the man looked at him unnerved him but he couldn’t say what it was.
Visiting Caitlin had become easy, a pleasure even. Since waking from her coma she was chatty and bright, almost confident. Dr. Carver was pleased with her physical and emotional progress, the straightening of her posture and establishment of eye contact but there was apparently no improvement in her memory. The Doc held off from discharging her, he was keen to make progress in drawing out Caitlin’s real personality and he sensed that he was close with this new, improved version. Jane and Emma no longer surfaced, even during sessions . On more than one occasion, whilst she sipped coffee in his office, he asked Caitlin outright about her identity, challenged her to tell him about herself but she had looked puzzled and laughed at him. If she was faking it, he couldn’t tell.
Of course there was another reason the Doc didn’t discharge Caitlin yet. He observed Jared pull into the parking lot with scant regard for rules and cross to the door. His expression was distant, lost in thought and if the Doc had been asked to voice his opinion bluntly, he would say he looked like crap. As he crossed the threshold the Doc watched Jared’s features rearrange as he forced a smile and painted his game-face on. Another week at least, he thought. JD had offered to take Caitlin for short trips outside the facility to refamiliarize her with everyday life. The Doc had observed JD with Caitlin and was confident of his ability to cope with her if necessary. Secretly he was relieved to see some of the responsibility for her care shifting away from Jared. Sometimes he thought that Jared was in more need of therapy than his patient.
Ben Carver met briefly with Jared after the visit and was appraised of the information he had been given earlier that day. He reassured him that he would find the best way to approach the issue of Caitlin's scars but that it would have to be explored. They spoke briefly about the admission bracelet but he didn't seem optimistic, the sheer number of facilities with the name John in the title made it unlikely they would track the exact one down.
Jared went home, ran with his dogs, then showered and dressed to go out. He had an itch to scratch.
Continued in part 29 here: anniespinkhouse.livejournal.com/8834.html