Fractured Eden (8 page)

Not far away, Grant Belkin sat at a table in his kitchen. His words echoed throughout the house.

“Your hair looks whiter today.” He directed the words across the table to an empty chair. “It’s gettin’ longer, too. I like it.”

       He smiled at the chair, and then nodded. ”Yeah, I’m sure it does take quite a while for you to brush all that hair.”

Grant sipped from a glass of water. “We have a new doctor in town,” he said. “I need to look after him.”

He listened for a few seconds.

“Now, don’t you worry your pretty head. I’ll keep my distance. He won’t know I’m watchin’.”

                                         
Chapter 9

Aaron had the impression that his neighbor—the owl—hooted during the night.

I wonder what challenges are in store for me this week,
he thought as he opened the clinic door.

A short while later, he watched from the waiting room as Rocky Donnigan, his alcoholic patient, pedaled a shiny red bicycle into the parking area. Rocky was registered and escorted to a room.

Aaron winced at the smell of cigarettes as he entered Rocky’s room.
I’ll ask Stella to deodorize in here.

“How’s the infection?” Aaron said.

“Fine, Doc.” Rocky held up his forearm. “It’s doing real good.”

Aaron examined the infected area. “Great. Go ahead and finish the antibiotics.”

“I will.”

“That’s a nice bike you have.”

“It’s how I get around, so I take good care of it.”

Aaron stepped back. “Any more weirdness going on lately?”

Rocky looked down and squinted his eyes. “Come to think of it, I saw something strange a couple of days ago.”

“What was that?”

“There’s a woman that lives down this road. It dead ends at her house.”

“Wanda Taggett?”

       “That’s her. I saw her buying something, drugs probably, in an alley in town.”

Aaron’s eyes flew open. “Buying drugs?”

“Yeah. I know the guy she met up with. He’s a drug dealer, and I’m pretty sure she handed him money.”

On his way out, Rocky stopped at the door of the room and turned to Aaron. “When your car needs maintenance or has a problem, shoot it over to my shop. I’ll take care of it.”

“It’s a deal. So you’re good with bikes and cars.”

“Yes, sir, I am.”

Just after lunch, Stella motioned to Aaron in the hallway. “This next patient is Buck Bogarty. He’s a troublemaker and he’s always getting into fights. I removed his bandage so you could see his hand wound.”

Aaron walked into the room and greeted a young man with short black hair and several small scars on his face. He held up a bloody left hand.

“I got cut,” he said.

Aaron examined the wound. “How did it happen?”

“A fight, last night.”

“So you hit someone in the mouth? Are these teeth cuts?”

“I guess.”

“We’ll tend to those wounds and put you on antibiotics to try to prevent infection. Did you report anything to the police?”

Buck laughed. “Hell, no. Don’t want no cops.”

“Keep the hand elevated as much as you can, and let me know if you have any problems. My nurse will show you how to take care of your hand at home.”

Stella cleaned and dressed the wounds, and Buck strutted out of the clinic with his prescription.

“You said he’s a troublemaker. I guess he grew up around here?” Aaron said to Stella.

“He did. He had a rough family life, but he did manage to graduate from high school.”

“A rough family life?”

“Problems in the marriage. His father left them. Buck still lives with his mother.”

“He has a wild look about him, like a hungry tiger.”

“Oh, yeah. Everyone knows Buck Bogarty. If you see a fancy hot rod around town, it’s probably Buck showing off.”

Aaron closed his clinic an hour early and drove over to Constable Greevy’s office. He could have asked his questions over the phone when he’d called earlier in the day, but he figured he might be more convincing in person.

As Aaron walked into the office, he detected a faint scent of coffee. In the middle of the room, Keller Greevy sat behind a desk strewn with papers.

“Have a seat, Doc. What’s on your mind?” Keller said.

“It’s the Taggetts. I’m worried about those folks.”

“Well, I know Sid is sickly, and Race is a bit strange. They’ve been that way for a long time.”

“I looked up some medical records at the hospital. It seems that Wanda was suspected of possible child abuse when Race was young. Recently, she took Sid to the hospital several times and they couldn’t find out what was wrong with him.”

“Okay, plenty of doctors have tried to help them. Maybe that’s the way it is. Some things can’t be helped, right?”

“That’s true, but Wanda has been giving Sid some kind of liquid medicine, and yet he’s begging for help.”

“Begging for help. Now, how would you know that?”

“Sid told me.”

“You were in the house?”

“Yes. And Rocky told me he saw Wanda buying drugs in an alley downtown.”

“Rocky Donnigan?”

Aaron nodded.

Keller threw his hands up. “He’s a drunk. He’s liable to say anything.”

Keller stood up and took several steps away from his chair.

He turned to Aaron. “What do you want from me?”

“Get a search warrant and let’s find out what Wanda is giving him to drink.”

       Keller pointed his finger at Aaron. “You’re way out of line. The state has already looked into their situation. That family has been that way for a long time, and Sid has been checked by doctors. He’s a sick man, and Wanda takes care of him. Let them be.”

“But—”

“This meeting’s over,” Keller said.

Aaron shook his head and stood up.

Just like Marley said, there’s something very wrong with Sid, and we don’t even have a diagnosis,
he thought as he walked out.
I’ll have to pursue this in my own way.

Aaron drove away from Constable Greevy’s office, and after several miles, he pulled into a long curving driveway that led up the hill to the home of Brad Benningham, the oilman. He’d called earlier from his office to ask if he could drop by and discuss Preston’s struggle with addiction.

Aaron stopped in a porte cochere at the front of the house and stepped out as the front door swung open. V. Brad Benningham stood at the threshold, filling most of the open doorway space, the crown of his head almost touching the top of the door.

Brad motioned to Aaron. “Come on in.”

Aaron followed him into the mansion and to a spacious living room with earth-toned furniture. A sparkling crystal chandelier hovered over the room. Brad gestured toward a collection of chairs and couches. “Have a seat. Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thanks.” Aaron sat in a plush chair. He noticed a faint sweet scent in the room.
Apples?

Brad wore boots, a plaid shirt, and jeans secured by a large silver belt buckle. He stopped near Aaron’s chair. “I’m sorry about the incident in your office. As you can tell, my son has a problem.”

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s in rehab, in a hospital a few hours from here. We want to avoid recognition.”

“He’s had a drug problem before?”

Brad sighed and put his hands in his pockets. “He’s been in rehab twice over the last five years, for alcohol or drugs.”

Brad turned as a tall redheaded woman walked into the living room. “Myra, this is Dr. Rovsing.”

She put her hands to her temples. “Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry you had to see our son that way.”

“At least he’s in a good place now,” Aaron said.

Myra sat in a chair near Aaron. She shook her head. “I don’t know if anything will work with Preston. We’ve been down this road before.” She looked at Aaron. “Maybe it’s bad genes?”

Aaron nodded. “Genetics could be involved.”

“Or maybe we weren’t good parents.”

“Now, don’t start with that,” Brad said as he glared at Myra. “When he gets back, he’d better get a job or I’m kicking him out of here, and I’m not keeping him out of jail anymore.”

“But he says there aren’t any jobs,” Myra said.

“He doesn’t try to find one. He doesn’t want to work.”

She put her face in her hands. “Will this nightmare ever end?”

Brad left the room. Aaron stood and put his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll help in any way I can. This has got to be tough for you.”

Myra groaned, her head down. “You can’t imagine.”

Aaron walked toward the front door and stopped when he heard the clunking of boots behind him.

“Doc, let me buy you a drink,” Brad said. He put his hand on Aaron’s back. “I’ll take you to my favorite bar. How about it?”

“Sure.”

Brad led Aaron outside to his truck. “They have great appetizers there, too. We can make a meal of it.”

In the still night air, an owl hooted in the distance as they shut the truck doors.

“Sometimes I just need to get away for a drink. Know what I mean?” Brad said.

Aaron nodded. “Yes, I do.”

Brad drove away from his home. “Our son is a real problem.”

“Drug addiction is a problem everywhere. A lot of families suffer.”

Brad turned up the volume on his truck radio. Along the way, he pointed out businesses and homes of people he knew. He drove for almost twenty minutes to a lounge with a packed parking lot in front.

As they entered the lounge, two men walked away from a small table in a corner. Brad and Aaron sat down at the table and ordered drinks and sausage-and-tomato flatbread.

“This drug addiction is tearing Myra and me apart. She thinks I was an absent father and should have been more involved with Preston when he was young.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“I’ve protected Preston,” Brad said. “I’ve kept him out of jail, so far.”

“Out of jail, for what?”

“He robbed some houses, to pay for his drugs.”

Aaron’s stomach tightened. An image of a drugged robber and the bloody bodies of his parents floated into his mind. His head began to swirl.

“What’s wrong?” Brad said.

Aaron took several deep breaths and a few sips of water. “It’ll pass.” After a few seconds, he nodded. “I’m all right.”

A tall mug of foamy beer appeared for Brad and a glass of red wine for Aaron.

“By the way, how do you keep someone out of jail?” Aaron said.

Brad snorted. “Let me put it this way. I have an understanding with the law around here.”

Aaron studied Brad’s face.
Does that mean he bribes them?

Brad had four beers over the next hour, while Aaron nursed his glass of cabernet. Brad talked about his son growing up with such potential and his excelling in high school academics.

“College was not good for Preston. That’s when the trouble started.” Brad gulped the last of his beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. “Maybe he’d be better off if he did some time. What do you think?”

“Don’t give up on him.”

“I once hoped he’d become an engineer like me, like my father and grandfather.”

“All in the oil business?”

“Yep. My father was vice-president of an oil company, back when things were better.”

“Business is slow now?”

“It’s harder. A lot more regulations to deal with, and more folks talking trash about oil.”

“Your oil family goes way back. I’ll bet you’ve heard some great stories.”

“I have.” Brad drained his water glass. “My father knew T. Cullen Davis and followed his trials. That was a crazy time.”

“I remember that. He was acquitted of murder, right?”

“Yeah, but my father had his doubts. I wonder if Davis got away with murder.” He shook his head. “I guess some people do.”

Brad paid the bill and they walked out.

“Thanks for the food and drinks,” Aaron said.

They climbed into Brad’s truck and drove away. Brad cranked up the country music on the way back, and he sang along at times. Aaron heard several songs about angel eyes and cold beer.

Brad pulled into his driveway and stopped the truck beside Aaron’s car. Aaron jumped as Brad slammed his palm against the dashboard. His words were slurred. “I’ll tell you. I’m worried about Preston.”

“I would be, too.”

He cleared his eyes with the back of his wrist and looked at Aaron. “He’s all I got.”

As Aaron turned to open his door, he flinched as a large hand squeezed his arm. Brad’s eyes were wide and his lips contorted. “What’s with you medical doctors anyway? We pay you all this money to fix things. Why can’t Preston get well? Why can’t he?”

Aaron looked at Brad and sighed.

Brad released his grip. “I’m sorry. This is hard on me.”

“I know it is, but there’s always hope. People can get better, especially if someone is there for them.”

Brad nodded. They stepped out of the truck, and Brad lumbered away to his front door.