That Which Destroys Me (28 page)

After a minute of no answer, I scoop the keys from my purse and unlock his front door before walking inside. Each click of my heels sounding across the hardwood floor as I make my way through the living room ricochets the same determination that continues pushing me forward.

The entire penthouse is cloaked in darkness, there are scotch bottles lined up on his glass coffee table. When I walk into the kitchen, I see more evidence of a Wesley Jacobs bender.

Well, this should be fun.

I grab a garbage bag from the pantry and make my way through the kitchen tossing bottles into the trash bag. Once I’m in the living room I collect those bottles as well then straighten the cushions on the couch and chairs. On my way to the storage room on the opposite side of the penthouse, I round the corner and come face to face with his office.

Seriously? “Jesus, Wesley. How much fucking scotch can one man consume?” I sigh making my way into his office and head towards his desk. When I reach over to grab the two bottles my eyes snag on my name, my name written and typed over and over, paragraph after paragraph on what looks like records, or something. I toss the bottles of scotch into the garbage bag before picking up the piece of paper and scanning over it.

Over six broken bones noted via X-ray which appeared to go untreated. (See below):

Both clavicles, mandible, maxilla, left femur, right humerus.

The nurses notes also state there were multiple abrasions, lacerations and contusions. Some of which appeared to be recent as well as healing injuries.

Also documented and photographed: Numerous bite marks covering the patient from neck to knees, most of which where located on the patients anterior thighs, genitalia and rectum.

The bottles crash, shattering as the plastic ties slip from my fingers. I snatch the file from his desk, my eyes skimming the words as the memories strike, stripping the old scarred flesh from my soul.

Patient was brought into ER via EMS on a stretcher after students found patient (9 yo Stella Reese) in the bathroom of the school unconscious with copious amounts of blood around the patient. Upon assessment, after removing tampon and several pads, 4
^th
degree vaginal and rectal lacerations were noted consistent with extremely severe sexual abuse.

“Why?” I choke out frantically flipping through the pages. “Why?” My whimpered question cuts through his silent office.

Stella Reese’s whereabouts remained unknown from July 4
^th
2001 until January 3
^rd
2004.

In 2004, 16 yo Stella Reese was found living in an abandoned home on Texas Street.

Documentation states 16 yo Stella Reese admitted to living in both the abandoned home as well as sleeping some nights in her high school library she’d been attending without knowledge of the State of Louisiana. 

CPS filed for a warrant to retrieve the following medical files:

July 5, 2001- Time: 0018:

911 phone call: 

“Hey there’s some chick passed out by Cross Lake.” —background unknown female voice—“Steve she isn’t breathing! Tell them she’s not fuckin’ breathing!”

Male caller: “Umm… my girl says she isn’t breathing. I would stay, but I can’t be late for my curfew.”

911 dispatcher: “Sir, I need you to remain where you are. Do you or your friend know CPR?”

—Phone call ends. July 5, 2001- Time: 0020.

Medical Records/ Doctors dictation notes/ Nurses notes:

Dr. Cole- Dictation notes of patient currently known as Jane Doe (age unknown):

Received patient via EMS to ER 1. Upon admission patient status is unstable with a weak and thready pulse noted. EMS documentation states that patient was resuscitated via CPR and defibrillation.  After patient stabilized doctor assessment yields asphyxiation as well as first and second degree lacerations noted in and around vagina and rectum consistent with rape and/or sexual abuse. Lacerations were sutured using a 2.0 chromic suture times 2.  Patient remains stable. Will continue to monitor.

(Patient signed out Against Medical Advice less than nineteen hours after admission.) Prior to patient signing out AMA patient refused rape kit.

Patient’s printed name and signature:
Stella Reese

My hands fist around the pages as tears stream down my face. I spin to leave his office, headed straight for his room knowing there is only one place a man that consumes that much scotch could be. I trip, staggering through the hallways, as savage pain brutally shreds its way through my heart; twisting and tightening, slicing it in two. Uncontainable sobs hiccup from my throat as I reach the double mahogany doors leading to the master suite.

With both fists clenched around the papers in my hands I shove both doors open before crashing into his room as insanity blankets my rational thought screaming,
“OF EVERY FUCKING MAN TO EVER FUCKING DESTROY ME, YOU’RE THE ONE I WON’T LIVE THROUGH! YOU FUCKING KNEW ALL ALONG YOU MOTHERFUCKER!”

When my teary eyes adjust to the darkness in the room and my blurry vision clears, what I witness shoves my fractured sanity and scatters the sand that remains of my soul leaving absolutely nothing of me in its wake.

Chapter 35

Stella

I roll over looking at the clock on my nightstand. Holy shit! It’s past noon! After I jump from bed and land beneath the hot pelting water spraying from seventy five showerheads, it dawns on me that it’s Saturday. And I have nothing planned today, only my continuing efforts to pin the ghost of Stell’s past down. Which is good, because I don’t have the energy to shave.

After my shower I dress in khakis shorts and a V-neck black t-shirt, make a cup of coffee, and head to my office.

I sit behind my desk and with fresh eyes begin reading over the files and my scribbling notes down on Blake and Jenny Sims, i.e. Foster fucks number one.

More than two hours go by and I have yet to find anything on Blake and Jenny Sims online that I don’t already have in my file. I glance up at the clock and see it’s almost three thirty. Ehh… Scotch right now would be considered day drinking.

As I jot down Jeffery Pierce’s name when the hair on the back of my neck stands on end I quickly type the kid’s name, pulling up his information online and sink back into my chair reading the articles one by one.

Foreboding crawls up my spine, causing me to sit up straighter with every article I read. This motherfucker was seriously a fucked up kid. . The information I am reading online, in no way reflects the same kid in Derrick’s files.

Every muscle in my body is strung tight. My alarms are so high it causes me to jump when the phone on my desk rings.

“Shit!” I shake the tension off before answering the phone, “Wesley speaking.”

“Hey, what’s up man, it’s Jude.” I glance at the clock. Fuck it. It’s past five o’clock, I abstained as much as I care to.

“What’s up, Jude?” My voice is as bland as the empty tumbler in my hand, at least until I fill it to the rim with Johnny Walker.

“Look, I don’t really know how to say this other than just coming out and saying it. I like Stella, a lot, more than I should. Until yesterday I honestly thought you were just her boss. A boss she had a crush on, but still just her boss. I don’t know what yesterday was all about, but honestly, I don’t feel comfortable with an intern being behind my writing career. Yesterday cleared my cock from the equation when I saw your reaction to us being together, now, I have absolutely no problem conceding, you’re obviously the better man suited for Stella. However, I can’t— I refuse to settle for Stella parading around acting as my publisher Wes, I want you, man. You’re the reason I came to Jacobs, I’m sorry my cock lead me astray momentarily, but fortunately,” He chuckles, “My rational thought has returned.”

I sit silently as his words roll around until they settle. “What exactly do you want from me, Jude? Stella may be ‘parading’ around as your publisher, but she’s still getting her work done, the proof sits directly on top of your award for being a NY best seller. What is there left for me to do?”

“I know she did. She rocked ‘Twisted’; but what I have in the works for my next project, man, it’s going to kill, totally annihilate ‘Twisted Obsession’. Hey! You got plans tonight?” I look at all my written notes scattered around my desk, drain my scotch and head to the corner bar to make another.

“Not really, just some personal shit I’m working on. Why?” I walk back to my desk eyeing one empty bottle while opening a new one and pouring my second drink.

“What time is it? Oh, almost six. Okay, meet me at Molly’s, the pub on 3rd Ave near 22nd Street. I’ll bring my manuscript’s outline, let’s say…nine-ish? Is that cool?”

I sip my scotch while looking at the clock. That gives me at least two more hours to research this little fucker, Jeffery Pierce. Scrubbing my hand down my face sighing, I say, “Sure. Nine it is. But I’m not staying long, I’m stuck up to my asshole in personal shit that I need to get figured out. Understood?”

“Absolutely, man. Alright, I’ll see ya then.” The phone clicks dead.

I return to my research and my scotch.

I hate this encompassing premonition that something in Stella’s past - in these files - is, has, or will damage what’s left of my little angel that fights. But what I hate more is that I’ve allowed it to constantly come between us.

But fucking hell, if she ever knew, I’d lose her. For-fucking-ever. I would lose my angel. And I will never allow that.

So until I find whatever it is provoking me to search, or until I’ve exhausted every fucking lead, name and avenue, I will continue to keep myself from the only woman I have ever truly, fiercely, and unconditionally loved. 

“This is good, man,” I tell my driver as the car slows and I spot Molly’s. “I shouldn’t be more than an hour, two tops. Go grab a bite to eat.” I step from the car and head into the pub.

Once I spot Jude, I nod and head in his direction at a small table all the way at the back of the bar and away from the crowd. “What the fuck you hiding by the backdoor for, Jude?” I ask sinking into the leather seat.

He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind before sliding a drink in front of me. “Johnny Walker, right?”

I nod accepting the drink. “Thanks, man.”

“Yep, anytime.” After taking a swig from his beer, he says, “Why the fuck am I strategically sitting away from everyone? Really?” He slides a piece of paper across the gnarled tabletop, “Umm… Because I don’t think the other patrons would understand or be able to stomach the shit we’re about to discuss. Holding women captive as slaves, rape, sodomy and flaying their skin from their bones is generally frowned upon, buddy.”