Remember Me (43 page)

                       
*******************************************
Petersburg Virginia, 3hours from Windsor Virginia
Dropping his bag in the dusty hallway, Brett looked around at the old hospital he had inherited from his parents.
The hospital was but one of three hideaways he had always used for his 'recreational activities'. The Windgate Private Hospital had been shut down in the early sixties, when sweeping changes had been made in the care and treatment of psychiatric patients. While it had long ago fallen into a state of disrepair, he decided it would still suit his purposes.
As he walked the halls, carefully avoiding the debris that littered the floor, his disjointed thoughts drifted to his long-dead parents, whose plan it had been to open this facility to treat children with psychological problems.
Imagine that, they were going to betray me, their own son, send me to some nut house, but then turn right around and help a bunch of useless brats they didn't even know!
He
thought as the old familiar bitterness and anger began to resurface. His parents had never suspected he was aware of their plans to have him institutionalized, after he had been diagnosed by the both of them (privately, they had thought) as a dangerous sociopath. But thanks to his loving Grandmother, who had alerted him of their plans, he had poisoned both of them for their deceit and betrayal. “Now, Cassandra, you too shall pay.” he muttered.
Stepping into the room he planned on using, he could see it was undisturbed, everything in place just the way he had left it the last time. The last young lady he had brought here hadn't died by his hand, but she would never be in her right mind again, nor tell any tales. Smiling unpleasantly, he felt himself grow hard as he remembered the whimpers, screams, and pleas for mercy that had went on for days behind these walls. He had used torture to control the woman, to get what he wanted, until he finally grew bored with her. “I should have did the same thing to you, my Cassandra, while I had the chance. That night I drugged you in your own apartment?” he muttered as his gaze turned vacant for a moment and his left eyelid began to twitch.
Shaking his head, a shred of sanity returned to his gaze, and he approached the cold, steel hospital bed in the middle of the room. Testing the stability, he shook it for moment. Satisfied that it was still in sturdy, usable condition, he checked the four-point restraints attached to it.
“Now, where did I hide my special toys?” he muttered as he looked around the room for a moment. “Ah, yes.” he hissed, then made his way across the room. Pulling a loose concrete block from the wall, he dropped it on the floor and reached inside the hole carefully, hoping he wouldn't get bit by something. Pulling out a rolled up black cloth, he made his way back to the bed and placed it there. Unfolding the material reverently, he touched the dental pliers, scissors, scalpels, and his personal favorites, the arrow pointed probes. “Still in mighty fine shape, not a speck of rust on them.” he muttered.
Frowning suddenly, he checked his watch. “Now, to find some out of way place to stay and lay low a few days.” he muttered.
You treacherous Jezebel, I'm going to have more fun with you than the last tasty little morsel I brought in here. I'm going to make that pussy husband of yours watch while I have my way with you, and when I'm done, I'll make YOU watch while I castrate him. After he bleeds to death, you and I will have a loooong time to play.....
he thought.
             
************************************************
Paul walked through the opulent Flagstone Inn, unable to tear his thoughts away from his late, former partner Jeanine.
Why didn't I go back after the divorce? Why didn't I give the relationship a chance?
He
agonized.
Arriving at the elevator, he punched the button much harder than necessary, and the door opened immediately. Pressing the button for the eighth floor, he stared blankly ahead as the doors closed and he felt the lift. Cursing softly, he wondered for the hundredth time how Jeanine could have been so careless, going after the man with no backup, then felt a keen stab of guilt.
Arriving on the eighth floor, he stepped out, made his way to Granger Mortensen's suite, then rang the buzzer.

After several seconds a tall, muscular African American man answered the door, eying him suspiciously. “Yes?”
Pulling his badge that was clipped onto his waist, he identified himself. “Lieutenant Paul Marshall, homicide detective, state police. I need to speak to Mr. Mortensen.”
Satisfied, Malcolm took a step back and motioned for him to enter. “Mr. Mortensen is on a business call, it may be a few minutes. You're welcome to make yourself comfortable in the meantime.” he finished, motioning to the large leather sofa.
“Thanks.” he grunted as he took a seat and glanced at the tall man white man who was pacing the room, talking on the phone in an agitated voice.
“No, I want
THAT
property. I'll pay two and a half million for it, but that's my final offer.
My aide has checked the place out, along with the surrounding property, and to be honest, it will cost me twice what I'll be paying for it to make livable. Now you tell the seller I’m not going to wait much longer. Matter of fact, if I haven't heard from them by the end of the business day, my offer will be withdrawn, and I'll simply wait until he forfeits the loan and the bank forecloses.” Granger growled, then hung up the phone.
Must be nice to be able to throw money around that way...
.Paul thought.
“Granger, this is Lt. Paul Marshall, a state police homicide investigator.” Malcolm said when Granger turned to face the stranger inquisitively.
Going to the man, he offered his hand and gave him a firm handshake, but skipped the pleasantries. “What can I help you with Lieutenant?” he asked as he took a seat across from him.
Studying Granger closely for a moment, Paul thought,
Yep, seen his type before, this man could be deadly if anyone pushed the right buttons.
Clearing his throat, he replied, “Mr. Mortensen, last night Detective Jeannine Rhodes went to arrest Brett Parker, and was murdered right there on his property. We also discovered the body of a missing person, a private investigator by the name of Buddy Martin. He was buried in a shallow grave just several feet from where detective Rhodes was murdered.”
On hearing the news, Granger's entire demeanor changed in the blink of an eye. Looking at Malcolm, he said, “Have the driver bring Cassandra back here, right now!”
“
Sure thing, Chief.”
“
Mr. Mortensen, your wife is really the one I need to talk to.” Paul explained.
“I'm hoping she may have some idea where Mr. Parker may be hiding.
And don't worry, we're keeping a close eye on the hotel here.”
Standing, Granger walked to the bar and replied, “Well, she should be back in fifteen or twenty minutes, after Malcolm contacts them. She promised not to wander very far. Oh, and I apologize for my ill manners, would you like a soda or something?” he asked as he poured himself a crystal tumbler full of Vodka. “I would offer you a drink, but I know you officers don't drink on duty.”
“Oh, I accept, Mr. Mortensen. Don't believe everything you see on those lame cop shows on television. The day I'm having, I need a good, strong drink.” he replied with a grim chuckle.
                                ****************************
Zeke drove to the outskirts of town, to a run-down motel that had seen better days. Looking at the dingy sign out front as he parked and got out of his car, he grunted, “Trail Motel, kinda' beneath your standards, isn't it, you fruit loop lunatic?” he mumbled to himself,
thinking of Martina.
As he looked for the room she said she would be in, he watched a middle aged, balding, short, shifty looking man climb out of a minivan that looked to be packed with football equipment. The man smoothed his artificially dyed comb-over, then zipped up his Members Only jacket and made a beeline for a prostitute (he was streetwise enough to tell) who stood in an open doorway nearby. Shaking his head and chuckling, he thought,
Fool! You're probably risking your life and family for a five minute nut with some whore who's only interested in you till the money runs out.
With a heavy sigh, he focused his attention back on finding Martina's room, and found it shortly afterwards. Satisfied no one was watching, he knocked on the door, and it was opened almost immediately. “Why this place?” he asked with honest curiosity. “Why such a dump?”
“I’m keeping a low profile, what do you think? You think anyone gives a shit about what goes on in here? Besides vice office
rs, maybe, and suspicious wives?
Come in.” she hissed nervously, looking left and right, then motioning him inside.
Stepping in the room and looking around, he grimaced as she shut the door behind them. The room was decorated in the nastiest sea-foam green color imaginable, it looked like something from a 1970s bad acid trip, and he could clearly hear a couple in the next room moaning loudly, and what sounded like the headboard of their bed banging against the wall. “Isn’t keeping a low profile supposed to include steering clear of police officers? VICE police officers?” he laughed.

“Most of them are
on the take. Not from me, but the pimps.
We’re safe." she shot back

Glancing at the bed, he was surprised to see the bedspread was covered with dozens of bridal magazines. “What's up, you plan on auditioning for a reality show called 'Psycho Bride' or something?” he asked sarcastically, then picked up one of the magazines that featured wedding cakes. “Did you find yourself a new beau to march down the aisle and give you what you want, darling?”
Giving him a murderous look, she pinched her red lips together and snatched the magazine from him. “Of course not, you insufferable jackass! You know that my
Granger is the only one for me. I'm planning my wedding, to HIM
...
darling!” she snapped. Getting down to business, she tossed the magazine back down on the bed, then picked up what looked like a batch of pamphlets and handed them to him. “I'm even looking into several boarding schools, overseas, for that brat of Cassandra's. I think after you eliminate that bitch, Granger will mourn for a few weeks, then he'll announce our wedding. It will be such a grand event, surpassing even Princess Di's wedding!” she giggled.
Holy Jesus, and I thought she was losing it BEFORE! This bitch's elevator goes to the tenth floor, but drops her off at the third!
He
thought as he looked at her with an unreadable expression on his face. “So, you thinking killing Cassandra will be the answer to all your
problems? What happens if Granger doesn't want to send the kid away, or he doesn't want you?”
“Then you kill the brat too, you idiot, after you've killed the whore! If you do, I'll pay you double! After all, our own children, mine and Granger's, should be the only heirs to the Mortensen fortune anyway! Oh, and here's your money.” she said as she grabbed her purse from the battered nightstand, pulled a thick brown envelope out, then offered it to him.
Kill a child? How low can I sink?
He
wondered. Snatching the envelope from her, he growled, “I'll take care of everything.” Turning to leave, he wished to God he had never gotten himself mixed up with Martina or her family, because at the moment he felt as if his very soul had been burned to a cinder.
Too late, too late! Just get it over with and try to find some hole to crawl into and forget. If you CAN…
.he thought.

                                                        
Chapter 35
“Now, Cassandra, you're going back to the day of your attack.” Doctor
Zachrich's
voice softly directed her through the hypnotic quest for her much needed answers.
Granger sat in tense silence as he watched his wife struggle to remember. At the moment she was lying perfectly still and rigid, as if expecting a physical blow. Both her hands, which were balled tightly into fists, rested lightly on her stomach. Tossing her head from side to side, she frowned and moaned as she tried to make sense of the flashes emerging from her sub consciousness, wanting desperately to process them and understand, but at the moment they were simply coming too quickly.
Sensing her distress, Doctor
Zackrich
calmly instructed her, “Cassandra, take slow, deep breaths, you're breathing too fast, and I don't want you to end up hyperventilating, Ok? Just concentrate on describing what you're seeing and feeling, we'll try to make sense of all of it later. Right now, just describe them.”
Relaxing somewhat, her breathing slowed, and after a moment she spoke. “I’m at the cabin reading a book. In front of the fireplace.” she moaned, then nervously licked a bead of sweat off her upper lip. “I hear footsteps, on the porch, I think. Faint, and stealthy.
Someone’s knocking on the door."
Preparing for the worst, Granger perched nervously on the edge of his seat.
Lord, please don't let it be mother who attacked her...
he prayed silently.
“I don't know why she's here!” she continued, irritation clear in her voice. “She’s demanding that I let her come in so we can talk. I’m opening the door, we're arguing...shouting at one another. She wants me to leave my husband...take my son and leave him, for good. I made a mistake by turning my back on her!” she whimpered as her breathing became erratic again. Suddenly, her hands flew up to her face and she screamed, “SHE HURT ME!”
Heartbroken, Granger slumped back in his seat. No matter how awkward his relationship with his own mother had always been, he had never wanted to believe she could be capable of such a thing.
And for three long years, she's looked me in the face like nothing was wrong....
he thought as a cold chill swept over him.
“Cassandra, who's the woman? Can you see her clearly?” the doctor asked in a soothing voice, then gently took her hand in his and checked her pulse, hoping that the contact would keep her calm as she relived the horrible events.
“Yes, I know her.” she whimpered, still struggling with her emotions.
                           The cabin, located at Roaring Branch
“You should leave, you're nothing more than an albatross around Granger's neck! Just leave, and take that mongrel kid of yours with you!!” the redheaded woman screamed like a banshee.
Almost as if it had a mind of
its
own, Cassandra's right hand suddenly flashed out and connected with the side of the woman's face, delivering a vicious slap, which stunned  both of them.
“Don't you ever talk that way about my child again, or I swear, I'll kill you!” she raged, at her wit's end with both Martina and Grace's constant schemes to undermine her marriage.
Glaring at the woman, she wanted to make her suffer, the way they had always made her. “You stupid, worn out whore! Do you think my leaving Granger, refusing my husband's love, will make him want you?” she asked. When the woman didn't answer, she sneered and
spat, “Granger
thinks you're pitiful, you DO know that, don't you? He doesn't see you as sexy or alluring, he sees you as a gold-digging HANGER-ON! And from your visit tonight, I know he's right! But you know what?” she continued, knowing it would probably be best to end her taunting, but the rage fueling her wouldn't allow it. “I have to thank you, too! That's right! You see, before you came here, I really was very close to giving up on my marriage, but now it's NOT going to happen!”
“You little....common TRAMP!” the woman snarled as her lips curled in disgust. “I ought to....”
“Yes, I have YOU to thank!” she interrupted with a bright smile of malice. “I want to thank you for making me realize that my husband IS worth fighting for!! Our son... having his father and mother together, IS worth fighting for! So you can hang it up, Muffy..... I'm not going ANYWHERE!” she laughed, and deciding she was done with the woman, turned and headed for the door, in order to show her the way out.
“YOU BLACK BITCH!! GRANGER IS MINE!!!”
Too late, she realized she had pushed the woman over the edge, then whirled around in a panic just as the deranged would-be home wrecker charged at her, brandishing her very
own cast iron, antique fireplace poker. Throwing her arms in front of her face, they offered little protection as the poker came crashing down on the top of her head, knocking her to the floor instantly. Suddenly unable to see, her mind gibbered in panic as she realized she was being blinded by her own blood. Painful blow after painful blow followed, until she felt herself slipping into a black abyss, knowing she would never see Granger or Regan again.
                 
******An undetermined amount of time later******
She didn't know how long she had been out, but when she regained consciousness, the pain that was still crashing through her skull was nearly unbearable, and she realized she was no longer completely blinded. Able to make out hazy, vague images, she thought a man was leaning over her, close to her face, looking at her, and when he spoke, the pain exploding through her skull tripled, making her whimper weakly. “Goddamn it, I told you to give the pills time!” the figure hovering over her growled in what sounded like a very angry voice. “Damn you, I told you I wanted her for myself! Well, count yourself lucky she's still alive!”
“We have to get rid of her! No one must ever find out about what happened here, I'll lose Granger!” a vaguely familiar female voice whined.
“No one will ever know, but we will NOT kill her.” the man snapped. “I promise you, my dear, impatient cousin, she'll be taken out of the picture, and you can have that waste of flesh Granger.” the man finished as she felt him reach down and begin examining the wounds on the top of her head gently.
“Don‘t let her hurt me...” she cried out in a weak voice, then fell silent as she felt a sharp stabbing pain in her arm.
“Shhhh....this is for the pain, dear, and to help you rest. I'm here for you, I‘m not gonna let anything bad happen again.” the man cooed softly as he gently stroked her bruised and swollen face with one hand.
As she felt herself slipping into darkness yet again, she opened her eyes as wide as she could, one last time, to try to get a good look at him…
“Brett!” Cassandra screamed as she sat upright so suddenly Granger scrambled from his seat in a panic and rushed to her, just as she began sobbing.
Wrapping his arms around her in a protective embrace, he cooed, “Shhhh...hush now, you're safe, sweetheart.” As her sobs subsided, he urged her in a gentle voice, “Just calm down and tell me what you remember. Was my mother the woman who came to see you?”
Burying her face in his chest, she murmured in a miserable voice, “Martina, the woman from the restaurant at the Flagstone Inn. It was her. We argued, and I told her I wasn't leaving you. She attacked me with a fireplace poker, and when I regained consciousness, Brett was there. He told her he would take me away, take care of me, protect me. He called her ‘cousin‘. His exact words were, ‘my dear, impatient cousin‘”.
Seething, Granger felt his large frame shake with pent-up rage, and at the moment he felt as if he could plow his way through a brick wall. “Dead, they're both
DEAD!
” he roared, then leaped to his feet and stormed towards the office door.
Alarms going off in her head, Cassandra leaped to her feet in a panic and dashed towards him, clutching at one arm with both hands and digging her heels in. “Granger...
GRANGER!!!!
” she screamed so desperately that he stopped, mid-stride, and looked down at her. “Brett's already killed two people, that we know of, you can't go after him! Darling, we just found each other again! If you go after that no good bastard and something bad happens to you, I don't know what I would do! Please, if not for me, think of our son!”
Looking down at her as if pole-axed, he reached down and wiped her tears away with both hands. “You're right, I shouldn't be so rash. I want to always be there for the both of you. You won't lose me, my love.” he said in a soft voice.
Doctor Zachrick released a huge sigh of relief, although secretly, he didn't blame the man for being so enraged. “I think we had best report this to the police, wouldn't you agree, Mr. Mortensen?”
Nodding reluctantly, Granger looked down at his lovely wife again, smiled warmly, and thought ,
Please, PLEASE, whoever catches up with the bastard, let him be one of those heavy-handed, trigger happy, hot dog cops!