Psycho Inside Me (16 page)

Chapter 16

“Thanks again, Dad. I’ll see you at home. I need to go to the library.” I turned from him, not even looking back to see if he replied. I didn’t care. I had entirely too much to think about, plan.

Wednesday and I should be in school. At least according to Dad. According to society. But with Deegan in jail, I’d won some sort of prize and Dad had called in, excusing me from class for a few days. Sometimes he showed cool colors, other times, he was just a great big ugh.

Checking my watch, I picked up the pace. The next sexual assault victim support group would start in thirty minutes. If I wanted to make it, I’d better quit focusing on Deegan and the issues surrounding him and I and get my ass to the college campus.

The walk took twenty minutes. In the warm early-summer-late-spring afternoon sun, I wiped at the perspiration on my brow. The inland northwest had a fancy habit of being sweltering one minute and quarter of an hour later snow is falling.

But I made it
, rushing into the basement room where the victims congregated. Most of us were underage, minors, only a very few were allowed in over the age of eighteen and male. Two counselors usually monitored the meetings to help mediate anything that seemed out of hand or needed a molding comment. In the last four months, I hadn’t seen one man in the sessions I attended. Only two male teens in all seven groups.

Seven. Each group with about fifteen kids. Put in perspective what kind of good Deegan and I were doing by enacting justice on the perverts out there. Because the kids in the group were the ones who had reported it. More than triple that number never would.

But when I huffed in after my visit with Deegan, a decided discomfort held the air close and stale. I searched for the source of the chill.

Two support pillars served to separate the eating area from the gathering area. Normally, we took up a semi-circle around the mediating counselor and chatted amongst ourselves, pretending we weren’t all there as victims of a past we wanted to forget but prisoners of memories that wouldn’t stop torturing us.

Seven girls and one boy had made it to the meeting besides myself. I only recognized Sierra and Dylan. The other ones were new-to-me but I didn’t make the rounds consistently. Might be suspicious that I was looking for my next victim, if I became a regular and asked too many questions.

The counselor at the front hadn’t sat down yet. I searched the room. No one by the cookies and donuts with water bottles at the back. Claiming my seat at the end of the crescent, I nudged the girl next to me. Tears ran down her face and she sniffed when we touched. “Hey, you okay?”

She shook her head and wiped her upper lip. “No. One of the other girls in Saturday group killed herself. She didn’t even give any of us a head’s up.” She twisted her lips. “We have a new counselor and he just stepped into the hall with a couple of kids who seemed really upset.” She heaved a sigh and continued staring at her well-manicured nails.

I leaned back in my chair. Crap. First of all, crap. I hated hearing when another victim gives in to the pain the bastards deliver. Second, she’d said he when referring to the counselor. A combination of a male presence and the suicidal patient wouldn’t help disclosure that day. I needed to hear everyone’s discussions because the more clues they gave me, the closer I could get to finding their abusers. And then… Well, I’d fix it.

Leaning over to mouth some sort of platitude her way, I glanced up when the door opened and froze. My lips formed an O. I sat up. What the hell? A man resembling a clothing model stepped into the room. Well-fit clothing left little to the imagination. His broad shoulders narrowed down into a V at his waist. A studded timepiece winked from beneath the cuff of a dark charcoal suit jacket. Dark hair combed back from his face complemented the olive tones of his skin.

In one word? The man was hot.

But not in a good way. He adjusted his tie, eying the people in the group one by one, ending on me. I didn’t look away when he turned toward me. He winked.

The safety of the room and the group shattered in
an instant. I crossed my legs and my arms and huddled into a half-formed fetal position, much like the other patients in the room.

Realizing what I was doing, I consciously straightened my spine and lifted my chin. No matter what though, I couldn’t uncross my arms or legs. As strong as my willpower was, the minimum protection by the simple act kept me sane.

I worked my tongue on the roof of my mouth to create moisture and swallowed. Standing, I faced him. “This is a victims’ advocate group for minors. Adult classes are upstairs.” Even my bravery hadn’t squashed the tremor in my voice. What the hell was I so afraid of?

He tilted his head my way. With a voice as smooth and slippery as butter, he replied. “Thank you. I’m supposed to be here.” He checked the clipboard in his hand which I’d overlooked, then he glanced up. “I’m Matthew Dorgland. I’m the counselor for this afternoon.”
He glanced around at the rest of the group. “I’m covering for Samantha and Theresa. They’re helping with the grief-stricken affected by the recent loss. I’ve been a counselor for fifteen years and my specialty is recovering assault victims of both a physical and-or a sexual nature.”

Shivers took control of my nerves. I hid my shaking hands behind my back. We weren’t supposed to have male counselors by themselves. The therapy sessions followed the two-deep leadership rule found in the Boy Scouts and other organizations.

Matthew focused on me, his eyes narrowed and he spoke slowly. “You’re welcome to sit. If not, I’d appreciate it if you’d step out. We need to get started and as I’m sure you know, we’ve just been dealt a hard blow.” He didn’t blink as he held my gaze.

And then, it hit me.
It
being the glint in his eyes matched Bobby’s, and Sheldon’s, and Pervy Patrolman, and Mr. Weston’s, and the other men I’d punished. His eyes knew what to look for in a victim. His eyes betrayed his true intentions.

A quick glance at the rest of the group huddling in on themselves confirmed my suspicions.
The man may have been a counselor but it wasn’t to help anyone. If anything, he thrived off the victims of others. A bottom-feeder.

I sat. I couldn’t leave the vulnerable kids in there with him. Their protection fell to me.

Matthew sat down and started the discussion. I couldn’t focus on the stilted answers as each of the people there sensed a predator among them.

Something Deegan had said in our visit wended its way through my distraction. I’d asked what he did all day in jail and he’d said his attorney had come that morning. Deegan’s downcast eyes and somber mouth worried me. He’d continued. “I’m nineteen and technically an adult, Cassie. They think they can pin at least two murders on me. I haven’t said anything, but because of the men and their sexual preferences, the prosecutors think I have an accomplice.” He’d lowered his head while my stomach had sank. I didn’t care about me. But him… tried as an adult. He’d get more time than the bastards we had killed deserved.

Staring at Matthew, I decided he’d be my next kill – if he checked out as a predator. Paranoia was no reason to kill someone.

~~~

The man drove a flashy car that could’ve been dressed in a matching suit. When he slid into his front seat, he took time to put on his sunglasses and check his image in the mirror, smoothing strands of hair into place as well as licking his pinky fingers and running them over his eyebrows. The engine growled when it started and he pulled into the street without checking for traffic.

Okay, so vain, egotistical, and potential narcissist. I could work with
all of it. But I couldn’t guarantee that he’d go for me, I wasn’t exactly victim-material.

I sat on the steps to the building. How would I find out where he lived? I couldn’t contact him and ask to meet. A man like that suspects everyone. He went after other’s victims.
I’d need to stake out and ambush. I tapped my knee. But how would I find his house? Working together, Deegan and I would’ve had this figured out in no time, trading filing cards in a small envelope. After everything had been nailed down for the upcoming kill, we would burn the envelope.

Deegan had continued pretending to date the pseudo-girlfriend. But I got to have him on the nights we planned.

Sometimes I didn’t know whether I should feel good or cheap. According to him she was a lesbian and not interested, but how easy would it be for him to be screwing us both – me on the side. I crossed my arms and rubbed the goose bumps from my biceps.
No, Cassie. Deegan doesn’t work like that. You can trust him. He’s not like most guys. Just think.

How would I find Matthew Dorgland’s place? I had data on my phone, duh! I Googled
his name and my city. Two possible addresses came up, one with a street view, the other an office building. He lived in a fairly nice neighborhood in the Valley.

No way would my dad let me borrow the minivan at the rate I was going. He wasn’t exactly happy I
kept company with Deegan. Little did Dad know, I was the bad influence in the relationship.

I hadn’t brought my purse, but I had a few bucks in my pocket along with my phone. Not even a jacket. If I was going into the Valley, I’d have to catch the bus with a few transfers. I’d be gone well into the night.

No way was I going to tell Deegan my plans to get him out. He’d never let me and try talking me out of it, and then he’d worry the whole time I was gone.

I had enough experience I could pull one off on my own. A flashback to Mr. Weston’s death amped me up a bit. I’d done that one myself, but I’d needed Deegan to get past the body and out of the gym without getting caught.

Would I need Deegan on this one? I better not, or I wouldn’t survive it.

The bus ride would give me time to think. I needed some plans in place.

~~~

The final bus stop before the vehicle returned, I climbed off and checked my surroundings. The Valley had a beautiful hold on most of the Spokane area.
For spring and summer, the blooming green sparkled under the lowering sun. Overly primped lawns and gardens cuddled with houses smartly trimmed on streets well kept. I felt like I’d stepped into the Spokane version of Oz. Munchkins anyone?

Now all I needed to do was find the Wizard and skewer his punk ass. Using my phone’s GPS, I walked the three blocks to his street, looking over my shoulder every few steps.
But no one chased me. And no one was going to ride to my rescue either.

Together. I’d learned to take that for granted over the last few kills. That and the thrill of the bait-and-trap. It’d gotten to where killing had become a job, a necessity. How many kids were out there getting molested and unable to speak about it?

Why hadn’t I told anyone? Not just because I killed the men. I hadn’t even told Deegan the things I’d endured. Thankfully, there hadn’t been any penetration. But my breasts had taken their toll. My arms and upper thighs as well. And thankfully, I hadn’t had to perform any demeaning jobs on any of them – almost that cop, but for the most part, I’d been damn lucky.

Because of Deegan.

Now, I owed it to him to do one on my own. If he was in jail when someone was killed, he couldn’t be charged. That’d be one heck of an alibi – sitting in jail. Hard to disprove. Oh man, I really did watch too many crime shows.

If I got him out, maybe we could quit the whole thing and just go be together. But I slowed at the possibility of never doing it again. Something inside me wanted to continue with the chase, the baiting, the actual revenge, and watching the life fade from their eyes. I could never harm an innocent, but the men we dealt with… didn’t deserve rights or even humane treatment. In fact, the kill we’d done I’d hated the most involved overdosing the prick on rat poison in his own drink. Seemed almost pointless. Yes, his pain level had to have been off the graph, but I wanted to visibly inflict pain, see my vengeance written in his blood or in his flesh.

I bumped into the rear fender of Matthew’s car. I cursed but bit my lip and hurried to the car just past it. Lost in thought, I’d missed his house. The closest tree was in the neighbor’s yard, protected by chain link fencing. A large tree house nestled in its branches. But so late in the evening, with the sun just slipping behind the hills, the small house would work perfectly as cover and protection from the wind already picking up.

Watching for any witnesses, I climbed the small ladder to the house and pushed myself through the shorter doorway.
Out the shoebox size window I could see everything about Matthew’s house spread out before me.

Heavily curtained, the ground level windows showed nothing – no evidence he was even in there. A small round vented window showed an attic was present as well as
a basement with windows set into the foundation. Light seeped from under the curtains in the window beside the front door.

I’d hang out there for the night. Buses wouldn’t be back around until morning. I looked around at my accommodations, grateful for the hoarding instincts of a young girl. Blankets and pillows piled in the corner would help me get through the chilly early mo
rning hours. A play kitchen taunted me to pull out the tea set and pretend to have dinner.

My stomach growled as if on cue.

I rummaged around in the toy cabinets, surprised to find cupcakes and cookies stored carefully on a shelf. I’d take it.