Page 42 of Crucified By the Dark
“You know what I mean. As for Wellness Springs, I did go there because of the shit that I went through overseas, which I also can’t tell them about, but needing help is not a crime, and I shouldn’t be looked down on because I had to get help for what I was going through.” She gripped the frame of Kyle and held it to her chest as she walked over to the window. “I’m a good mom, Carson, and I do a lot of good for this world, including now running my rehab clinic.”
“Which is unlicensed. I don’t even dare bring that up. Look, I have four days to come up with a new plan of attack, but Morry, I need some ammunition. Like real bullets here.”
“Are you telling me to shoot him,” she teased, but there was no laugh from the other end of the line. “Okay, that might have been a bit dark, but can you blame me?”
“I’m doing my best, Morry, but you’re not making my life easy. Right or wrong, Andrew looks better on paper. It’s really that simple. Now you could wait the two years until he turns sixteen, then Kyle can apply for emancipation.”
“No, no, no. Carson, for fuck’s sake, Kyle is sick. He may not even live through the next six months, let alone wait two years, to be able to see my son. He needs his mother, and…shit, I need him. I’m not settling for waiting two years. I can tell you that,” she growled into the phone as her anger over this entire situation burned in her gut.
“Morry, don’t do anything stupid or that you can’t come back from. There are just some things I won’t be able to defend.”
“Trust me, Carson, if I decided to do something stupid, no one would ever know,” she said.
“Well, hasn’t this been a comforting conversation? I don’t want to know. That’s all I’m going to say. In the meantime, get me anything you think I can use to help you. It has to be legal, and it has to show your character as a good mother.”
How had it become that she needed to defend being Kyle’s mother? No one could ever say she was a terrible mother, not even Andrew. He didn’t like the environment, but he hadn’t been able to drudge up one terrible thing she’d ever done to Kyle. She really hated the justice system sometimes, especially since it was run by stuffy old men who sided with other men. She was behind the eight ball before this fight even started.
“Fine, I will see what I can come up with.”
Morry hung up and leaned against the window frame to stare outside. Without even thinking about it, she dialed Dean’s number. It rang that standard four times and went to voicemail.
“You have reached Sandbox Landscaping. We are busy at the moment but leave your name and number, and we will get back to you.”
Beep
“Hey, Dean, it’s me. Listen, I need to talk to you. I…I don’t know what to do and need an ear that knows all the shit of the shit. Can you call me back when you get this?”
Hanging up the phone, she gripped the photo hard to her chest. No one was keeping her away from Kyle. If she had to take drastic measures to keep her son—then she would do whatever it took.
Morry followed behind the small group of runners as they trudged over the hot desert sand. There were record highs today, and two of the four patients were lagging. One of those two happened to be Stephen. She watched him run and had no idea how he made it through Bootcamp, let alone all the other daily drills. From the moment Morry brought them out to Buzzard Point, he looked like a lame dog.
He slowed to a walk, his hands on his hips, then bent over and threw up. Stopping the Hummer, she hopped out and went to check on Stephen. The other three paused and looked back, but she waved them on.
“What’s wrong, soldier?”
“I’m having trouble breathing,” he said, but Stephen wasn’t wheezing or gasping. There wasn’t even a rattle or gravelly sound.
She narrowed her eyes at Stephen. “What was your injury, soldier?”
“What,” he asked and stood up straight. Morry watched his chest rise, calculating his breaths in her head.
“You heard me. What was your injury? Your intake form says that you were injured in the line of duty, and that’s how you got hooked on oxy. Unless, of course, that’s a lie.” She crossed her arms over her chest as Stephen stepped back and looked from side to side. He was definitely a runner. The question was, what was he running from exactly?
“Why would I lie about that,” Stephen asked, his voice rising with anger.
“I’m not sure yet, but something isn’t adding up. If you’re not lying, then show me your wound.”
“No, I don’t have to do that,” he said.
Just like the night Jeremy arrived, she acted. Morry was on him before he knew what was happening—with a maneuver that would have impressed Macho Man Randy Savage—she picked Stephen up and slammed him down hard on his back with her knee on his chest. The knife she kept in her boot pressed firmly to his throat.
“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear when we spoke earlier, and this will be the last time I talk to you about manners. I have a three-strikes-you’re-dead policy, and you’re already on number two. I must say, that is a record.” His hand flinched, and she glanced at the fist he made. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you unless you like dying by choking on your blood.”
Stephen’s eyes were wide but angry. There was more going on, and she would bet everything she had that he washed out. He washed out because he was using and probably had been before he even stepped foot on the army base. There was no way this guy had completed Bootcamp unless they’d lowered their standards, which she highly doubted.
“I know you’re lying to me. One look at your face tells me all I need to know. So how about we start with the truth, and then I’ll decide what to do with you.” She leaned close to his face, and the anger shifted to fear as she stared into his eyes. Her gaze never wavered. “I’m not joking when I say you’ll leave in a body bag. The vultures around here are used to me leaving them bones to feed from, and they conveniently carry parts of the bodies away to their nests. Doesn’t that sound fun, to become a bone for a bird’s young to shit on? You wouldn’t be the first who thought I played by the rules. Out here, Stephen, there are no rules.”
He winced as he swallowed, and the knife scraped against his throat.
