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A CHILD’S LAST HOPE

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

A CHILD'S LAST HOPE

First edition. February 16, 2021.

Copyright © 2021 Joshua Flasch.

ISBN: 978-1393431466

Written by Joshua Flasch.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

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CHAPTER 1

Blazing, summer heat permeated the minivan's air-conditioned interior as Ethan Harper opened the sliding door. Twelve-year-old Kevin climbed out of the van, creeping out like a sloth and stepping down onto the hot asphalt of the parking lot. "Are you ready for this, buddy?" Ethan mustered a confident smile with the hope of putting the young boy at ease, but the bullets of sweat he felt running down his face weren't convincing. He could blame it on the heat, but they both knew it was from the anticipation of Kevin's testimony. Kevin looked ahead at the entrance to the San Raul Community Courthouse and nodded his head hesitantly. "Yes, sir. I'm ready." After shutting the van door, he lightly patted Kevin's back as they walked toward the courthouse, simultaneously nudging him along. "You'll do fine, Kevin. After today, everything is going to change for the better. I'm sure of it." Ethan kept pace with Kevin, who deliberately walked as slowly as he could toward the front door of the courthouse. He knew Kevin was just prolonging the inevitable—having to testify against his own father. Craig Shillman, Kevin's attorney and a Citrus County Deputy District Attorney, stepped through the courthouse’s two mahogany and glass front doors to greet them. The shiny, smooth surface on the top of his head reflected the sunlight, nearly causing a glare that was too bright to look at directly. Ethan shook Craig's outreached hand, noticing that it was dry compared to his own clammy palms. "How are you two doing this morning?" Craig said, though Ethan knew it was rhetorical. "As good as we can be." Craig struggled when kneeling in front of Kevin due to his pudgy body, giving Ethan a great view of the horseshoe-shaped hairline around the sides of his head. He ruffled Kevin's hair and forced a smile. "The trial is about to begin, Kevin.

Just tell everyone the same thing you told me and everything will be all right." Craig grunted when standing back up. The aromas from various aftershaves and perfumes lingered in the air throughout the halls of the courthouse. Kevin inhaled breath after breath of the saturated air as he sat nervously next to Ethan just outside the courtroom. Sitting on the bench with his leg shaking furiously, the boy could not hide the terror that he was feeling behind his sad, brown eyes. As they waited for fifteen minutes, both of their stress levels rose with each second that ed. Ethan knew he couldn't remove the fear that Kevin was experiencing, but he felt a responsibility to try. As the social worker assigned to the boy's case, it would break his heart if Kevin didn't testify. After working for child services for the past two years, he knew what would happen without Kevin's testimony. While looking into the boy's terrified eyes, he told him the best advice he could think of to help alleviate any uncertainty he had. “While you’re in the courtroom, focus your attention on either Craig or I. Whatever you do, don`t look your father in the eye. Don't give Frank control over you with his intimidating look. He can't hurt you anymore if you do this, Kevin.” Kevin nodded his head obediently and Ethan assured him with a proud smile. A moment later, the bailiff opened the courtroom door and asked for Kevin. Ethan entered the courtroom and sat down on the bench behind the prosecutor’s seat on the left side of the room. As Kevin was escorted to the witness stand, Ethan looked up toward the ceiling, silently praying to God that Kevin would follow through with his promise; to confess the truth to a judge and courtroom full of strangers. Having been in the courthouse many times and knowing how much pressure juveniles experienced when sitting on the witness stand, Ethan could not shake a sense of unease that lingered in his subconscious. The average witness doesn't look forward to testifying. Most people are terrified of public speaking, and that uneasiness is amplified when a lawyer attempts to twist one’s words or delegitimize one’s statements. It can be a very intense and intimidating experience, especially for minors. Despite being prepared by both Ethan and Craig, including his own valiant

attempt to rally every ounce of courage hiding deep within, Kevin could crumble under the pressure. Watching him approach the witness stand gave Ethan hope. Most juvenile witnesses usually backed out before entering the courtroom in the event that they became too nervous to follow through. All that Kevin had to do was tell the court what had happened to him and his younger sister, Bailey. A case can easily be thrown out if the child’s responses sounded coached or were inconsistent with sworn testimony, so they had made sure not to put words in his mouth when preparing him for court. Craig had advised him to focus on explaining all the terrible things that his father did, while the only thing Ethan could do to help was to show his by being with Kevin in the courtroom. As Craig began setting up the context for his questions, Ethan looked across the room at Kevin’s mom, Nancy, sitting behind her husband on the right side of the room. He stared at her, glaring with his brow lowered until she noticed his gaze. He made sure she could sense how much he despised her. She didn't appear frightened or upset. Her expression was blank and cold. If Frank was convicted of physical abuse, Nancy could also be charged for the same offenses for not attempting to protect her children. There was no way she could possibly plead ignorance in this case. Ethan felt no sympathy for a spouse that refused to acknowledge domestic abuse by their significant other, especially in the event of their own child's suffering. She was equally responsible for the atrocities her husband had committed by not defending her children. There was no excuse more important than her children's well-being. Here, her twelve-year-old son was about to do what she either couldn't or wouldn't do, yet she sat obediently behind her husband in court. Her allegiance most likely that of a battered dog does not excuse her inaction at the expense of her children's lives. While Kevin looked frazzled—his hair unkempt and conspicuous dark bags under his eyes—Nancy appeared well groomed. Her brunette hair must have been recently highlighted with blonde streaks since Ethan had seen her a week ago, make-up had been heavily applied, and her blouse looked like it had just been purchased en route to the courthouse. She didn't act like a concerned, loving mother. As far as Ethan was concerned, she never deserved to be one in the first place.

Nancy was a deplorable human being, but not more so than the monster she ed. Ethan could not fathom what would cause a man to beat his family mercilessly, or how he could sexually abuse his five-year-old daughter. In his eyes, the only punishment they deserved was the death penalty. Ethan anxiously watched as Kevin heeded his word by avoiding any eye with his father as Craig proceeded by asking the big question. “Kevin East, can you please explain to the court what happened to you, as well as what you witnessed happening to your sister?” Kevin hesitated, causing everyone in the courtroom to hold their breath during the several seconds of nerve-wracking silence that followed. He first looked at Ethan with a worried expression on his face that said he couldn't avoid making eye any longer, and then looked over at his father. Frank gave him a disapproving and intimidating look, which unfortunately was enough to silence Kevin. A nauseous feeling began to develop in Ethan's gut as he anticipated what was about to happen. “My dad didn’t do anything to us, sir,” Kevin whispered into the microphone. "Could you please repeat that louder, Kevin?" Craig said while cupping his hand around his ear. Kevin looked down at the podium, refusing to look anyone in the eye. "My dad didn't do anything to us," he said into the microphone, clearly enough for everyone to hear. Ethan bowed his head in disappointment, not just in Kevin, but in himself as well. Maybe he hadn't done enough for the boy? But what else could he have done? Craig tried again to get an honest response from Kevin. “Your father is accused of beating and molesting you and Bailey. You are the only witness to give testimony in this case, Kevin. Are you saying he didn’t abuse either of you . . . in any way?” Kevin looked up and locked eyes with his father again, cowering from his glare alone. “No. H. . .h. . .he wouldn't do anything like that.”

In a fit of anger and frustration, Ethan stood up and exited the courtroom. As he walked away, he could hear the judge declare the case dismissed due to key eyewitness testimony. All that Ethan could do for Kevin now was pray because the case had been closed on the child's . Stepping back out into the radiant sunlight, Ethan hoped the sun's rays would wash him clean of all stress and disappointment. Being so dedicated to social work, his altruistic mentality made it difficult to shrug off such a failure. While the outcome of the trial was not primarily his fault, he bore that weight on his shoulders anyway. Ethan started walking toward the company minivan in the parking lot—easily identifiable with Child and Family Services painted on the side of it in bold, black print. Having walked a hundred yards from the door to the courthouse, he turned around as he heard it open. Craig walked out first, followed by Frank, Nancy, and Kevin. Frank locked eyes with Ethan—who stared back at him with disgust—and smiled while rubbing the top of Kevin's head proudly. He was proud of himself for manipulating the boy into saving his ass from going to prison. Nancy smiled arrogantly as well, as if they had been rightfully vindicated. Craig approached Ethan, noticing the stare down that he was giving Frank. "We did our best, Ethan. There was nothing more you could do." Ethan continued to follow Frank with hate clearly visible by his expression. "Wasn't there?" "No. I don't think there was. I've seen this happen before and so have you." Ethan looked away from Frank to turn toward Craig, now looking disenchanted. "The system is broken, Craig. I know I'm not the only one that could see how Frank intimidated Kevin. I know we did everything in our power, but it feels like I could have done more. . .somehow." "Don't beat yourself up. It's sad to say, but we'll get that bastard next time he abuses those children. I'm sure the evidence will be there next time." "That's what pisses me off. Kevin and Bailey might be left alone for a day, maybe two, all because of how proud Frank is at the moment. But then he'll be

right back to his old ways after that. It’s times like these that I wonder if I'm even cut out for this kind of work?" "Don't say that. Your heart is in it more than most I've worked with. Just why you got into social work in the first place." "I always wanted to help children, Craig. I enjoyed my childhood and was blessed to have a loving family. I believe every child deserves that experience and those memories. I just never considered that sick bastards like Frank would get away with their crimes. It honestly kills me. And just because Kevin sealed his own fate, doesn't mean that his sister should have to suffer." Pointing at Frank's Cadillac leaving the parking lot, Ethan shook his head. "There he goes now, on his way to Family Services to pick up his daughter. It's my fault, Craig. Anything that happens to those children, it’s because I didn't do more."

CHAPTER 2

"'Oh! But, grandmother, what a terrible big mouth you have!' said Little Red Riding Hood. "'All the better to eat you with!' "And scarcely had the wolf said this, then with one bound he was out of bed and swallowed up Red Riding Hood," read Margo, putting the book down. Margo stood up and walked over to her daughter's bed. "You can read the book yourself anytime you want. Why do you still insist I read you a bedtime story?" "I like it when you read to me, Mom. It's a tradition I miss. The only thing that ever made me want to go to bed was a bedtime story. You don't do it anymore since I learned to read," Susan said. Margo ran her hand through Susan's hair. "I like reading to you, too. You're growing up so fast, dear. I just thought you had grown out of our bedtime ritual. I dread when you hit puberty and want nothing to do with your mother anymore. Regardless, you'll always be my baby girl." Susan sat up in bed and gave her mother a hug. She couldn't imagine ever pushing her mother away. "That won't ever happen, Mommy. Don't be silly." "I'm going to hold you to that," Margo said, pinching Susan's nose. Margo tucked Susan into bed by sliding her hands along the length of Susan's body, making the blankets tightly snug around her child. Susan looked at the book of Grimm's Fairy Tales that her mother held. "Mom, is there a point to Little Red Riding Hood? I know it's old, but it's pretty violent for a fairy tale." Margo smiled. "These fairy tales are essentially warnings and life lessons. Children weren't always sheltered from the horrors of reality. Red Riding Hood learned that she shouldn't trust anyone based on their appearance. Some people

in this world look normal, but on the inside, they have sinister thoughts and feelings." “You mean anyone could be like that?” Susan understood, but could only picture grotesque monsters or aliens being that mischievous. "Even grandmas?" "Well, not your grandma, honey. Just keep in mind that if you ever sense anything out of the ordinary about someone, you should be very cautious. You never know when you'll meet a wolf wearing grandmother's clothing." As Margo grabbed the door knob to leave, she stopped short of shutting the door and turned around. "Open or closed?" "You can close it. I know you're going to be drinking wine and getting loud because Bill's over." Bill, Margo's boyfriend for the past two months, slipped his head in the doorway. "Sleep tight little one, and have sweet dreams." "Thank you, Bill. You have a good night too." "Good night, honey," Margo said, shutting the door as she left. Susan closed her eyes and imagined herself as Red Riding Hood. Her imagination produced a much different outcome. Red Riding Hood herself was not tricked by the wolf in grandma's clothing. She did not require a hunter to rescue her. Before the wolf could pounce, she hit the wolf over his head with a log she had picked up outside. Susan considered herself smarter than Red and would not allow herself to be fooled. Drifting off into dreamland, little, eight-year-old Susan lay in her bed sound asleep. Her bed comforter was adorned with the cartoon princesses that she had cherished since she could . Dolls and toy ponies lay scattered around the room, glowing from the light cast by her nightlight that also illuminated glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. Any home containing a young girl would have a similar room. The exception with hers being that darkness lurked outside her bedroom door. Well into the middle of the night, Susan was having a vivid and pleasant dream. In it, Susan wore a glamorous gown; silky smooth to the touch and sparkling like

glitter in the moonlight. A jewel studded crown rested on top of her braided hair that would be the envy of every girl in the kingdom. Climbing atop her well-groomed pony, she gripped handfuls of its soft and fluffy, white mane. All it took was a gentle tap with her glass slippers to get the pony galloping towards the enchanting castle on a distant hill. She could feel the breeze against her face as the pony raced through the countryside, aromas of the thousands of flowers that were quilted along the hillside wafting into her nostrils. It was like nothing she had experienced before. Arriving at the castle and riding across the drawbridge, her prince charming was there at the entrance to greet her. He was a young prince, being the same age as herself. He was cute and polite, helping her off her pony by reaching out his hand. Mesmerized by his trusting eyes, she barely noticed that he had an irregularly large mouth. At that moment, the prince began to grow taller, looming over her. Dark clouds rushed in to fill the sky as his face transformed into that of a wolf. Sharp teeth protruded from his mouth and his claws grew sharp like steel blades. Back in reality, the door to Susan's room slowly opened as Bill poked his head inside. He was very careful to silently creep in, his footsteps silenced by the carpet as he slowly closed the door behind himself. The only sound that could be heard within a few feet of the bedroom was the creaking of the door hinges. Approaching Susan's bed, he slowly pulled the covers off her, causing her body to shift as the cool air reached her skin. His mouth began to salivate as his hand squeezed the soft flesh of her right calf. She tried to curl into a ball for warmth, but Bill held her leg tightly. As her eyes slowly opened from the resistance, she became startled upon seeing Bill's dark silhouette sitting at the foot of her bed. Before she could scream, Bill's large, strong hand covered her mouth. He then grabbed her throat with his other hand, lightly tightening his grip. She felt her breath become shortened, despite inhaling more rapidly due to fear. She instantly realized the severity of the situation. Terrified, her eyes stretched wide and began tearing up as a result. She was also in shock because Bill had not given her any reason to be frightened since he began dating her mother. He had taken Susan and her mother to the movies, had been a guest at her imaginary tea party, played board games as a family, and

made her mother happier than she had seen in years. She had never been given any reason to be afraid of Bill, until now. Susan, the innocent child she was, had no idea what was going to happen. She felt scared and defenseless against him. She whimpered beneath his hand, desperately wanting to scream out for her mother. Bill leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "Don't make any noise or you will never see your mother again. And if you EVER tell anyone about this, I will kill you both." Susan didn't make a sound, nor did she put up a fight against the Big Bad Wolf like she thought she would. Susan wiped a puddle of tears from her eyes as she squinted toward the morning sunlight beaming through her bedroom window. Her pillow was wet from the tears that she had cried through most of the night, preventing her from getting any sleep. The whole time she questioned why Bill had touched her the way he did, and she felt disgusted by being forced to touch him. She didn't know how to deal with her strong emotions. She was confused about what had happened, knowing only how angry she was at Bill for making her feel this way. She kept thinking about how her mother had told her never to let anyone touch her private parts. She hadn't explained why, but was very adamant about it. Susan climbed out of bed and into the shower before her mother could come in to wake her up for school. She took longer than usual, scrubbing her whole body multiple times. She still swore that she could smell Bill's aftershave. It made her nauseous. She walked toward the kitchen, constantly looking over her shoulder from paranoia that Bill was creeping up behind her, just as he did into her room the night before. The aroma produced by frying butter and eggs flowed through the hallway and into her nostrils, causing her stomach to growl as if screaming at her to feed it. Susan carefully peeked around the kitchen corner and felt relieved to see her mom alone in the kitchen, overwhelming her with a feeling of safety. She couldn't resist showing her appreciation by giving her mother a large hug,

hesitating to let go. "What's this all about, Susan?" "I couldn't sleep last night. I wanted to tell you that—" Bill entered the kitchen and boisterously interrupted Susan. "Good morning you two beautiful ladies. Breakfast smells delicious. I'm starving." He sat down at the table and stared at Susan. "—I had a bad dream." Susan was afraid that Bill would keep his promise of murder if she told her mother the truth. As much as she wanted to, she felt there was no other choice but to keep his secret. She took a seat at the table furthest away from Bill while avoiding eye with him. Sensing that his eyes were focused on her, she noticed a creepy smirk on his face out of the corner of her eye. Her skin crawled knowing that he was relishing the same moment that had turned her world upside down. Her body quivered while sitting in the same room with him. "Your eyes are very red, honey. You look sick. Maybe you should stay home today," Margo said, scooping two fried eggs onto her plate. "Your mother's right, Susan. You should stay home today." Bill reached over to grab Susan's hand, but she pulled her hand off the table. "I don't have to work today, so I could stay over and take care of you. It would be fun." "I'm fine, Mom. I just didn't sleep well last night. I can't miss school today because I have a big test." Margo poured her a glass of orange juice. "Okay, honey. If you're sure you're all right." Susan inhaled her breakfast within minutes to escape Bill's presence. Once in her room, she quickly shut the door behind herself. She couldn't wait to get to school because Bill could not reach her there. Yet, she was still terrified. Terrified of the next time she wouldn't be able to escape from Bill. Terrified of the next time he would touch her. Terrified that she might not survive any further advances.

CHAPTER 3

A burning sensation plagued Ethan's eyes while sitting at his office desk, drinking his black coffee. He was not a morning person, always struggling to climb out of bed at six a.m. for work. His morning schedule was to have a cup of coffee first thing after arriving at the office, but he rarely had a moment to himself without being interrupted. His desk was located in a corner cubicle surrounded by gray, fabric partitions. Tacked onto the partition wall to the right of his computer terminal were two pictures of Maria, his girlfriend of two years. Each morning, he would sit with his coffee and red, irritated eyes, staring at the pictures hoping that the day would soon be over so that he could be at home with her. The picture of their vacation in Paris was particularly enticing as it represented the one time that he had escaped from the stress of social work. The cubicle was bland and depressing aesthetically, but he didn't have to spend much time at his desk. At any minute a new case may be thrown at him. After receiving a child abuse claim, one of the social workers at the office would be given all the information provided, at which point they would have to make a house call to investigate. Because of his dedication and hard work, he was often the first one to be approached with a new case. Not having any pressing field work as of yet, Ethan began reading the online news. While scanning his favorite websites, he inevitably found disturbing stories about child abuse that helped fuel his motivation to work harder. While engrossed in the tragic news, Ethan's colleague and friend, Owen, crept up behind. Owen pushed down on the back of his chair, startling him. His arms flailed while trying to grab a hold of the desk. As he realized that he had not actually fallen, he looked around to see if anyone had noticed his reaction. The initial embarrassment quickly faded away and a subtle irritation began to permeate. Hearing Owen's bellowing laugh, Ethan turned around to confront him. "You're a dick. How about you do some work for a change?"

"You were about to shit your pants, man!" Owen had to take a few deep breaths after laughing so hard. "I've got a case for you, actually." He raised his arm and dropped a file on Ethan's desk from three feet above the tabletop. The breeze from the file slapping down against the desk blew the papers out of the folder and onto the floor. "I take that back. . .you're not an asshole. You are a fucking child, though," Ethan said, smirking. Owen was known as a prankster. He was only in his early thirties, but looked middle-aged due to his thick, Tom Selleck mustache, protruding stomach, and a few well-placed wrinkles around his forehead and eyes. His dark-brown hair was also fading on the top of his head, but he would deny it if anyone told him so. Ethan focused his attention to the powdered donut that Owen completely consumed over the course of thirty seconds. Shaking his head, he couldn't resist commenting. "Wow, buddy. That's going straight to your hips." Owen used his sleeve to wipe the powder that coated his lips off. "Focus, Ethan. I'm trying to tell you about your case, yet you're more concerned with making hurtful comments," he said with a straight face. Ethan let him continue while nodding his head, vaguely taking him seriously while picking the papers off the floor. Owen mumbled with a mouth full of unnecessary carbs. "It sounds like another domestic violence case. My plate is pretty full right now, so that's why I talked Lin into giving it to you." "Wasn't that nice of you?" Owen's eyebrows drooped downward. "Would you just let me finish? We got a call from a concerned female friend of the family living at the residence. Said the wife looked like she had been beaten up. Black eye and a split lip. You know, the typical signs of an abusive husband? She also mentioned that she's concerned for their son's well-being." The papers Ethan picked up were blank sheets. He looked at Owen with a confused expression.

“Sorry, those were just for my dramatic folder drop,” Owen said smiling. He grabbed the papers from Ethan’s hand, saturating them with grease and powdered sugar from his fingertips. Ethan opened the file and saw only a sticky note with an address and the word "child" underlined in a sentence describing the home where the abuse was reported. "That's all I have to go on?" "That's all the information she gave, buddy. No other details," Owen said, shrugging his shoulders. Abuse reports should at least include names or other details about those involved, but many callers want to remain anonymous. Some are too scared to provide enough information that could potentially connect them to the report. That fear is one of the many influences domestic abuse has on people, the primary of which being why the abused don't report it themselves. Ethan stood up confidently from his chair and grabbed his car keys. "It's best I handle this anyway. We both know that you don't have the tact that I do." Owen shooed Ethan away with a waving hand gesture as he reached for another donut on the snack table, "Good luck to ya." Lin, Ethan's supervisor, caught him before he could leave the building. "Ethan, I have complete faith in your ability, but I still need to remind you about procedure. You know we can’t get a warrant without any evidence, so be as personable as you can be under the circumstances to get inside that house. Your primary concern is the well-being of the child, but our hands are tied without evidence." "Yeah, no problem, Lin. I've got this." Ethan said. "I know you do." Lin nodded while handing him the background-check sheets on the parents. "The parents are both clean. Marcus Stewart has some traffic violations, but that’s about it. Martha Stewart has no record at all." “Oh, really? I thought she did some time for insider trading?” Lin smirked. “You're such a smart ass. The police have been called out to their home a few times before for domestic disturbance, but there was no evidence of

abuse. Clearly, one or both of them have a bad temper. Be cautious. You’re just as important as those children.” Lin was the sternest, yet sarcastic Asian woman he had ever met. She was the kind of person that told jokes with a straight face and never laughed at herself. As the head supervisor for the office, she was attentive to her social workers and the cases they were involved with. Ethan felt they shared a similar dedication and personal responsibility to the helpless children in Citrus County. He respected how hard she worked because it wasn’t an easy job to keep track of several social workers and nearly a hundred cases that would be open at one time. She was a petite five and a half feet tall, yet she never seemed to back down from adversity. Even when large and enraged parents came into the office looking for heads to roll, she would stand her ground. Ethan could see past her tough facade and knew how gentle she could be. Especially when interacting with children. Ethan was well aware of his primary objective when starting an investigation. He needed to get inside the home to look for any signs of abuse, question family and potential victims, all the while trying to remain objective to prevent assuming their guilt until proven innocent. While some anonymous reports were fake, often coming from an enemy of the family, Ethan didn't want to take a chance that could result in failing to save a child from an abusive situation. A negative connotation became associated with social work over the years. The negativity is derived in part from parents claiming unjust persecution, while emphasizing the trauma of having their children taken away. Honestly, most neglectful, drug addicted, or abusive parents would be expected to deny their crimes. The social workers that are too aggressive don’t help how the profession is viewed, either. Those individuals seek to remove children from a home based solely on reported abuse without considering the actual circumstances and evidence, often relying on falsehoods or minor offenses to take a child out of the home. Becoming a cynical social worker was easy considering the people they had to deal with on a daily business, but Ethan trusted himself not to make such a mistake. He considered his actions honest, refusing to jump to conclusions, but

the bottom line was needing to find evidence. That usually required entering the child's residence—aside from the physical injuries that can be visually verified— to determine other factors ing the assessment of an abusive household. Twenty-minutes after leaving the office, Ethan's silver, Ford Escape rounded a corner entering Floral Park. The neighborhood—known for its historical homes —left him in awe as he observed single and two-storied mansions of different structural designs lining the streets. Some were historically designed to look like English cottages or colonial homes, while others were more modern. His imagination began to wander well beyond his wallet. Toward the outskirts of the neighborhood was a different story. The less wealthy part of the neighborhood contained smaller bungalow homes that were more common and affordable. He imagined the client's residence would be a lowincome home, probably not well kempt, but acknowledged the he was stereotyping. In reality, Ethan had witnessed abuse come from all social classes. When Ethan finally arrived at the home, he found himself parked in front of a tan-colored bungalow. The yard was properly landscaped and free of any unsightly junk scattered about. The house looked fairly old, but was clearly maintained in good shape. Deep in thought while walking up the concrete steps toward the front door, he quickly looked over the inspection check list in his notebook, followed by mentally preparing the routine he had been through many times before. Subconsciously, the procedure for dealing with hostile residents had been ingrained after repeatedly covering the subject in training. Ethan had yet to experience a dangerously hostile situation, but in such an instance a quick departure to seek police assistance was considered the best course of action. He was always cognizant about the possibility of violence with each house call. Ethan knocked on the door. "Who the hell is at the door?" a male voice said from inside the home. "Social Services, sir," he replied, struggling to remain polite. Ethan assumed he was speaking to Marcus. "We don't need any help from Social Services!"

"Well, sir, we received a report of possible physical abuse, so I would like to enter the premises to investigate these claims. If you don't respect my presence, then maybe you'll respect the police that come knocking at your door next." "Go open the damned door, Martha!" the man said. While anyone could refuse to let Ethan into their home without a warrant, they would immediately appear suspicious. Law enforcement would then become involved to continue the investigation. Any time Ethan had been challenged, he always used the threat of police participation knowing that most people were intimidated by having law enforcement at their door. Getting evidence to pursue a case would be difficult otherwise. The door opened, revealing behind it a fairly pretty woman with red hair and smooth, pale skin. Her upper lip had a small, vertical scab that looked like it was nearly healed. Faint, yellow-green skin below her left eyeball, which was nearly unnoticeable surrounded by her pale complexion, was also evidence of a healing black-eye. She was very petite and no more than five feet, two inches tall. She would have a difficult time defending herself from an abusive husband. Ethan stepped through the doorway and into the living room. "My name is Mr. Harper, and as I said, I'm with Child and Family Services." He looked over at Marcus who was sitting in a recliner watching television. Marcus was an African-American man that looked fairly overweight. His body noticeably sank into the cushions of the recliner, further ing Ethan's assessment. Ethan couldn't spot an alcoholic drink nearby, so he assumed the husband wasn't drunk—just uncouth. Martha walked over and stood by her husband's recliner. "So, you say someone reported abuse in our home?" She pretended to look confused while questioning the report, but Ethan perceived her as being nervous. He could tell that she was discreetly probing for information as to who had come to her aid by making the phone call that she herself did not have the guts to make. "I don't really know. We received a phone call from a woman that said she was a friend of the family." "It was that bitch, Nina. I'm sure of it," Marcus said.

Martha rolled her eyes and placed her hands on the back of the recliner. “I’m sorry, Mr. Harper. My name is Martha Stewart and this is my husband Marcus. He’s had a rough day,” she said, trying to defend Marcus’s attitude to no avail. “And no, we're not related to the Martha Stewart on TV.” Ethan noticed a small boy, aged about six or seven, sitting at the dining room table in the open kitchen. "How old are you, buddy?" he asked while walking toward the kitchen. "His name is Jerome, sir," Martha said. "Do you mind if I sit at the table, Jerome?" Before Jerome could respond, Ethan sat down next to him and placed his notebook on the table. Jerome moved his food around on the plate with a fork, as if he was more interested in organizing than consuming it. While playing with his food, a large bruise on his arm attracted Ethan's eye. The bruise looked like an outline of four fingers. Ethan deduced the cause being a squeeze from a strong hand, and the fingerprints represented a large adult hand. Ethan pulled out his cell phone. "I hope you don't mind, Jerome, but I need to take some pictures of your bruises." "Are you fucking serious, buddy?" Marcus asked. "It's standard procedure, sir. I need to take pictures of any injuries on the child and of any safety issues in the house." Ethan then pulled a digital voice recorder out of his pocket. "I also need to record our conversation, if that's all right with you, Jerome?" "Every kid gets bruises. He probably fell off his bike or something. Martha, has Jerome eaten all his food yet?" Marcus said. "He's finished, Marcus," she responded while walking toward the table. She picked up Jerome's plate and promptly dumped his leftovers into the sink. Marcus's voice began to bellow. "That's not what I asked, Martha. Did he eat it all or not?" Ethan started the recorder and chimed in to change the subject, hoping to avoid an incident. "Martha, can you explain to me how you injured your lip and eye?"

Before she could answer, Marcus answered for her. "Jerome hit her in the eye playing catch, Mr. Harper. Is that some kind of crime?" "Thank you, sir, but I was asking Martha. It's important that each individual answer for themselves when I'm asking questions. We at Child Services call it procedure. Once again, if you don't want to talk to me, you can talk to the police." Ethan held a stone-faced gaze in Marcus's direction, even though Marcus wasn't making eye . "That's right, Mr. Harper. We were playing catch and I let the damn ball slip through my hands," Martha said, refusing to look Ethan in the eye. She began washing dishes in the sink, avoiding having to face him. Ethan now focused his attention on Jerome. "Jerome, is that what really happened?" The child hesitated to answer while looking directly into Ethan's eyes, but he knew exactly what Jerome was thinking. Jerome wanted to tell a different story, but could not muster enough courage to do so before Marcus interjected. "My son is going to tell you the same damn thing. I think you've outstayed your welcome, buddy." Marcus lifted himself out of the recliner in an attempt to intimidate Ethan. At least a foot taller than Martha, he was a big guy, but not in great physical shape. "I'm done putting up with your shit." Martha glanced over her shoulder to see what was happening while pretending to be busy washing dishes, but she was only scrubbing dishes that were already clean. Ethan didn't budge, even though protocol said he should leave before the situation escalated. He was afraid of what would happen to Martha or Jerome before the police arrived. He also wasn't sure if there was enough evidence of physical abuse to arrest him, assuming everyone upheld their ridiculous story about playing catch. He needed more time to talk with Jerome, alone. Ethan continued to stare at Jerome and decided he would try one last time to get the truth out of him. "Jerome, if your mom really hurt herself playing catch, just say so and I'll be on my way. You won't see me again. But, if someone hurt your mom or caused those bruises on your arm, I can make it stop right now. But only if you tell me."

Just as Ethan expected he would, Marcus intervened. "Jerome, please ask the man to leave right now!" Ethan's natural defenses surfaced as he became more assertive. "Don't listen to him, Jerome. Just tell me the truth." Marcus slowly stepped toward the kitchen table, his fists clenched and teeth grinding. "Don't say another word, Jerome. I'm not telling you again, sir, that you outstayed your fucking welcome!" Ethan pointed at Marcus sternly. "If you say one more thing, I'm calling the cops. Let Jerome answer my question." Marcus now stood at the edge of the kitchen's tile flooring. "You can't tell me what to do in my own house. You get the hell out, now!" Jerome jumped out of his chair and ran over to Martha, squeezing her tight and burying his face in her stomach. "Don't hurt us, Daddy!" he shouted. Ethan now had all the evidence he needed. He pulled out his cell phone and began dialing the police. "I warned you, Marcus, and now I'm calling the police." Marcus rushed toward Ethan and grabbed the wrist holding the phone. Before Ethan could react, Marcus punched him across the jaw with his free hand. Ethan fell out of the chair and onto the floor, landing on his back. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of him and the phone out of his hand, which slid across the kitchen floor and under the refrigerator. As Ethan struggled to regain his breath, he could only watch as Marcus pulled Jerome away from Martha, throwing the small boy to the ground. He was witnessing Marcus begin a temper fueled rampage. He had seen what uncontrollably violent people were capable of, so he feared for all their lives. Internal survival instincts—dormant throughout his entire adult life—kicked into gear as adrenaline began coursing through his veins. Marcus turned toward Jerome and backhanded him across the left side of his face, using enough force to knock him unconscious. "I told you not to say anything, you little bastard!"

Martha reached for a frying pan that she had just washed moments before, swinging it with ferocity that she had not known until her maternal, protective instincts finally kicked in. The pan caused a loud clap as it slapped against Marcus's back, directly between his shoulder blades. Unfortunately, her attack only made him angrier. He slowly turned toward Martha, rage burning inside that was visible in his eyes. He ripped the pan out of her hand and shoved her violently against the kitchen sink. Her back collided into the dishes on the counter, causing some plates and glasses to shatter as they fell to the floor along with her. Ethan lifted himself off the ground to his hands and knees, noticing Marcus grab a steak knife from the counter. Marcus shifted his focus toward Ethan and his jawbone became clearly visible through his cheeks. "Put the knife down, Marcus. Don't do anything you are going to regret more than you already have." "You caused this, asshole. This is my family, and I'm not going to let you or anyone else take them away," Marcus said, speaking in a calm and unwavering manner that terrified Ethan. At that moment, he realized Marcus had made up his mind and there was no way of talking him out of it. Marcus rapidly lunged toward him, ready to cause bodily harm. Noticing that Marcus was barefoot, he quickly reacted by sweeping the broken glass on the floor with his arm, sending glass shards directly under Marcus's feet. Some of the smaller glass shards embedded themselves in his arm. Ethan winced from both the pain and the sound of the glass shards crunching below Marcus's feet, which was instantly followed by streams of blood escaping from the shredded, tender flesh of his soles. Marcus fell off his feet from the pain, but caught himself by holding on to the table as he fell. With knife still in hand, he regained his footing and painfully stood up. Ethan's instincts took over again as he grabbed the longest shard of glass he could find nearby and sprung off the floor, shoving the shard up into Marcus's abdomen. He felt flesh give way as the shard tore through the man's stomach. Seconds later, Ethan's fist became warm as the blood from deep inside Marcus's gut seeped out and coated it. He loosened his grip on the shard as Marcus leaned forward and fell to his knees.

Ethan didn't notice the glass had cut his hand in the moment that he tightly gripped the shard and thrust it inside of Marcus—probably due to the adrenaline that had overpowered his senses. Looking down at his palm covered in both Marcus's and his own blood, he struggled to process the severity of what had just happened. The entire ordeal felt surreal. He had only wanted to slow Marcus down so that he could get Martha and Jerome to safety. But as he watched Marcus sit hunched over in a puddle of his own blood, he knew the wound could very well be fatal. Martha ran to Marcus and held his drooping face in her hands. She began crying profusely and apologizing for not listening to him. Jerome sat motionless on the floor by the sink. He didn't look either sad or angry. He showed no signs of emotion whatsoever, probably still recovering from a probable concussion. Ethan looked down at his shaking hands, adrenaline beginning to dissipate, followed by an excruciating pain caused by the glass in his arm. Watching Jerome stare at Martha as she held his bleeding father, he decided to take the child out to his car. The young boy had witnessed more than any child his age should. Ethan could only wonder how much psychological damage had been done already. Ethan dialed 911 on his phone. The dispatcher answered as Ethan placed his arm around Jerome to walk him outside. "What's your emergency?" a female dispatcher said. "My name is Ethan Harper and I work for Child and Family Services. I need you to send an ambulance and police officers to 623 Baker St. I. . .uh. . .I stabbed a man who attacked me with a knife. He is bleeding profusely," Ethan said, his voice quivering. "All right, Mr. Harper. Police officers and an ambulance are in route to your location. They should be arriving within ten minutes. Get some towels and put pressure on the stab wound to slow the bleeding. Please remain on the premises." "I'll be here, ma'am." Ethan ended the call and sat Jerome down in the back seat of his car. "Are you okay, buddy?" The boy didn't say a word or bat an eye. He appeared to be lost in thought.

Ethan began debating with himself over whether or not his actions were necessary. He had never even been in a fight before, let alone imagined stabbing someone. What would the police think? Would he go to jail? Ethan almost empathized with Marcus. He was willing to do whatever it took to keep his family together. Did he truly love his family? No. Ethan had witnessed a man that was controlling, violent, and insecure. He only wanted to maintain domination over his wife and son. Ethan and Jerome sat in his Escape without saying a word, listening to the sirens gradually rising in volume as the police approached. Two police cars pulled up to the house, the ambulance not far off by the sound of it. Ethan approached the officers as they climbed out of their cars. "I'm Ethan Harper with Child and Family Services. The victim, Marcus Stewart, is inside with his wife, Martha. The child in my car is his son, Jerome." A female officer approached Jerome and tried to question him with a soft voice. The ambulance pulled up as the two other officers rushed inside the house. Two EMTs carrying a stretcher followed right behind them. Ethan could see that Jerome was in good hands, so he walked back inside to see what state Marcus was in. He could see the voyeuristic neighbors out of the corner of his eye, standing on their porch to watch all the commotion. The interior of the house looked like a scene from a horror movie now that he was seeing it from a different perspective. Martha was still sobbing while being inspected by one of the EMTs. The other EMT was checking Marcus for responsiveness. He was hunched over like a drunk vagrant, aside from the puddle of blood in his lap and beneath him. The EMT checked his watch and said Marcus was dead on arrival. Ethan placed his hand on his forehead and looked down at the ground. He had murdered another human being, but he didn't feel like a murderer because he had acted in self-defense. The guilt he began feeling was too powerful to be justified by anything other than Jerome's safety.

CHAPTER 4

A week had ed since Ethan took the life of Marcus in self-defense. He couldn't stop thinking about how he had ended the life of another human being. So many years of life ended with one knife wound, and within only ten minutes of being stabbed. It never occurred to him how quickly a life could end until that moment. He feared for his own soul in the afterlife, not just because he had committed a cardinal sin, but because he didn’t regret doing so. He had saved Martha and Jerome in a way that the system never could have. If Marcus hadn't attacked him, he would have been powerless to do anything about the violence that Marcus perpetrated on his family. Ethan sat outside the door of Janelle Barnes' office, his leg uncontrollably bouncing up and down like a silent jackhammer. He regretted not having breakfast before leaving the house as hunger pangs began to set in. His empty stomach was only exacerbated by how nervous he was about visiting a therapist. Ethan understood the importance of psychology, having taken many classes on the subject as part of the Social Work degree program. Criminal and clinical psychology were important to anticipate criminal actions and to help explain why people are abusive, while developmental and counseling psychology was important to help treat the victims of abuse. Therapeutic psychology on the other hand, he considered a load of crap. If Owen saw him leaving the shrink's office, he would surely get heckled. While he was visiting Janelle voluntarily, it was due in large part to Lin heavily suggesting and insisting he speak with her. In Lin’s eyes, it was a clinical visit to make sure one of her best employees was not too traumatized to continue working. What would he share with her? How does the process even work? He had seen psychiatric visits in movies, and seen Janelle council children or parents on several of his cases, but never been to one himself. Aside from exchanging pleasantries and receiving her analyses of children involved in his cases, he had

not had a casual conversation with Mrs. Barnes. Some employees visited her regularly for advice, while other’s like Ethan avoided their mental health professional. How could talking to a stranger alleviate any of the complicated emotions he was feeling? Could she even answer the questions he had? Ethan could not shake his doubts. A priest seemed like a more suitable person to interpret his emotions. He was feeling a spiritual, damning guilt. Would he spend all eternity in hell for committing the biggest sin of them all? How could he be forgiven when he felt Marcus's death was best for Martha and Jerome? Janelle opened her office door and squinted at Ethan, most likely having forgot that her glasses were on top of her head. “Good morning, Ethan.” Ethan stood up from his chair and shook her hand. “Good morning, Mrs. Barnes.” "Oh, stop," she said, slapping his shoulder. "No need to be so formal. I would prefer if you just used my first name. Go ahead and take a seat, Ethan. Make yourself comfortable." The bright and colorful palette of the room surprised him as he stepped into her office. A scenic painting hung on every wall of the room—each depicting landscapes brimming with green foliage and vibrant flowers—set against a soft, blue paint scheme. There were two mint-green sofa chairs facing each other, set a few feet away from her computer desk. He expected it to look more like a classic, neutral colored room with leather sofas. His expectations, once again, based on film interpretation. Based on her personality, he should have expected a less formal office. Janelle was an animated and unique woman. She often wore classy sundresses that enhanced her fiery red hair. She rarely wore dark or neutral colors that the eye interpreted as boring and depressing. Her morning greetings were much livelier than any other employee. These were good qualities for a woman that had to help social workers and traumatized children deal with dispiriting emotions. Ethan stiffly sat down on the couch, unable to shake how uncomfortable he felt. He tried to place his hands on the arms of the chair, but nervously started squeezing his palms together, fingers interlaced. His leg continued to jackhammer away, much like Kevin's did before the trial.

Janelle rummaged through her desk looking for something. When she couldn't find what she was looking for she closed the drawer and paused for a second before reaching for the top of her head, grabbing her glasses as it finally occurred to her where she had left them. After putting them on, she sat down in the chair facing Ethan and quietly analyzed him. “You must think I'm crazy? Well, the feeling is mutual." Ethan smiled awkwardly, attempting to decipher the tone as serious or humorous, until of course she smiled. "I'm just messing with you. Humor is a good way to calm people's nerves. Is this your first time seeing a shrink?” she asked, clearly knowing the answer. “Yeah, it is. I wouldn't be here if I had to pay for it. I'm sorry, but I don't have much faith in therapy." Janelle frowned like she was offended by his remark. "You don't say?" Her expression quickly changed to a smirk. "Mental health therapy is associated with an unfortunate stigma. I get that all the time." They both sat staring at one another in silence. Ethan broke eye once he began feeling uncomfortable. "I’m not sure how I'm supposed to start?” he said. Janelle smiled. “Some people start with small talk to warm up, while others just jump straight to the point and tell me if anything is bothering them.” She waved her pen and notepad in front of him. "I'll just be taking notes during our conversation so that I can refer to them if you plan on coming back for further psychoanalysis. I'm guessing you're here because of what happened on the Stewart case? So, why not start with how that has affected you?” Ethan took a moment to think about his response. He wasn’t sure if he should tell her the truth, or just say that everything was fine. After about a minute or two of silence, he decided to speak candidly. “Well . . . I’ve been thinking a lot about how God will judge me for killing another human being?” Janelle titled her head and shrugged her shoulders at a loss. "Unfortunately, nobody can answer that for you. Not even a priest can answer a question like that." While not comforting in the least, it was the truth, and eerily psychic. Ethan

appreciated her bluntness because he wasn't interested in being appeased with falsehoods. "I know it's wrong to kill, but I feel justified in my particular situation. I think it's just the guilt that's getting to me. I’m not really religious or anything, but I do have faith. I would like to think that self-defense wouldn’t be a reason to go to hell. Plus, a wife and son are now safe.” “You were justified to defend yourself according to the law. You didn’t enter this man’s home with the intention of murder, right? It would be different if you told me that you went to his home strictly with the idea of murdering him. In that case, it would be premeditated murder.” Ethan felt partial relief from Janelle's response. "But, I also feel guilty for appreciating killing Marcus. If he was still alive, Martha and Jerome would still be in danger. I had no proof he was being abusive because neither Martha nor Jerome were going to it it. There was nothing I could do. I think I intentionally pushed Marcus over the edge, hoping that he would become violent and prove that he could be physically abusive. I hadn't thought about killing him, though." “Have you been thinking about this a lot, and has it been affecting your job or relationships?” Janelle asked. “No. I just think about it when I’m alone, like in bed at night or driving my car. I can handle it,” Ethan assured. “It’s not affecting my job or family.” “I can see that,” Janelle said. “I’ve seen what people look like when they can’t take it. Their appearance begins to devolve. You look like you’re getting enough sleep and food.” “In the end, the most important thing is that Jerome and Martha are better off without Marcus. With both you and I helping them to cope with their loss, and by facilitating Martha’s success as a single mother, they will surely overcome adversity,” Ethan said, trying to resolve his emotions. “I have to agree with you. They most likely will be better off. This guy, Marcus, sounds like he was a terrible person. Should he have been put to death? We leave questions like that to be determined by the justice system in an attempt to avoid chaos in society. Is the system perfect? I'd say far from it, but we shouldn't abandon it altogether. You, Ethan, were reacting on primal instinct to defend yourself and Marcus's family. I like to think God intended us to have that

instinct, and if so, then you are justified in his eyes." He couldn't resist being relieved by her interpretation. She confirmed and ed exactly what he was feeling and thinking. Something about hearing it from someone else makes it more convincing. Sitting in silence for a moment, he noticed that his leg had come to rest and his hands were relaxed on the arms of the chair. Ethan motioned as if he was about to speak by opening his mouth, then quickly closed it and broke eye with Janelle without making a sound. "What is it, Ethan? Whatever you say, I promise not to judge you. . .” she said, trailing off as she used sarcasm as a footnote, ". . .too harshly." "Is there something wrong with me if I often think about beating the shit out of the disgusting people that I meet on a daily basis?" "No, not at all. It's human nature to imagine hurting someone when they anger you. That's why we often say things we don't really mean when losing control," she said. "Those that act on such feelings are the unstable ones." Ethan had no other thoughts or feelings to share with Janelle. Her perspective was reassuring, making him feel better than he had felt before the meeting. He now knew Mrs. Barnes was someone he could talk to. She understood his emotions and provided insightful answers to all his questions. "Well, that's about it. You've actually made me feel better, Janelle," Ethan said. "I'm glad. I've enjoyed our time together and I hope you'll come see me again." Ethan stood up and Janelle followed his lead. "If I need to, I'll come talk to you," he said, shaking her hand. Once exiting Janelle's office, Ethan crept down the hallway, sneaking back to his desk before anyone spotted him. Word would spread around the office that he was losing it, especially if John Allen saw him. John was the gossip king of the office. John was an older gentleman that had been on many cases in his heyday. John grew tired and desensitized, willing to do everyone's monotonous paperwork

rather than going back out on a house call. He found a joy for scandal mongering about others above all else. Unfortunately for Ethan, Owen walked up from behind. "Hey, buddy. Watcha doing?" Ethan ignored him and sat down at his desk. "Nothing to concern yourself with. Just making my rounds around the office." "Are you mentally unstable? I would hope you'd tell me before anyone else if you were. I thought we were close enough that you’d share with me about needing to see a shrink." "I'm fine, all right. Lin wanted me to chat with Janelle after what happened last week," Ethan said. "Interesting, you're on a first name basis already. Lin must really be concerned. She's headed into Barnes' office right now." Ethan quickly turned to look down the hall and watched Lin enter Janelle's office. He was slightly offended that Lin didn't know him well enough to assume that he was fine, but he acknowledged the fact that it was her responsibility to make sure all her employees were stable. And it's not every day that a social worker kills someone during an investigation. “She’s just doing her job as a supervisor, Owen. You’re just being ridiculous like you always are.” “You’re right, buddy. That’s why she’s headed over here now,” Owen said, pointing toward the hallway. Lin approached Ethan's desk and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Can we chat for a minute, Ethan? In my office." "Yeah, sure. No problem." Ethan got up and curiously followed Lin. "Good morning, Lin," Owen said. She didn't respond to him, appearing to concentrate on her train of thought. Ethan became suspicious of what she wanted to talk about. He was getting a

negative vibe based on how discreet she was being. Upon entering her office, Lin waved toward the chair in front of her desk. "Go ahead and take a seat for a minute." Ethan obeyed and sat down. "What's this all about, Lin?" She sat down and looked Ethan in the eye. Her eyes were glassy, appearing to struggle with keeping her composure. "I got some bad news early this morning, Ethan. I'm just going to lay it out for you, like pulling off a band aid." Ethan's eyes widened. "Is it really that bad?" "Kevin East was sent to the hospital late last night. Frank went too far this time. Kevin suffered severe head trauma and a fractured skull. He had some serious internal bleeding in his chest as well. Frank and Nancy have both been taken into custody, and Bailey is here in the visiting center." Ethan shot out of his chair, his head heating up from the rage that was building inside. He paced back and forth across the office, unable to contain his anger. "They could have put that son of a bitch away and this would never have happened. Which hospital is Kevin at? I have to get over there." His rage instantaneously simmered down into remorse as he watched Lin wipe a tear away from her eye. "I'm sorry, Ethan.” A moment of silence explained the sadness in Lin’s eyes, expressing all the information that he needed to understand the painful truth about Kevin’s fate. Lin looked away to regain her composure. “Kevin died earlier this morning from his injuries. There was nothing they could do about the brain bleeding." Ethan sat back down and covered his mouth with his hand. He had so much hate for Frank, but it was being overwhelmed by his own guilt. What else could he have done? He could have. . .no, should have confronted Frank alone and beaten the shit out of him. He should have given him a taste of his own medicine and threatened the bastard to stop the abuse. Wouldn't that have worked?

Ethan slammed his fists on Lin's desk. "I should have done more, damn it." Lin looked back at him sympathetically. "There is nothing else you could have done, Ethan. You got Kevin to court, but he didn't follow through. That's the way things are." "Well, things fucking suck then, Lin. What's even the point if saving these children is out of our hands?" "We do the best that we can with what we are given. You did your very best. You always do your best, Ethan." Ethan took a moment to relax. He felt pain, disgust, anger, and confusion. That moment demonstrated the most painful part of being a social worker. The realization that not all children could be saved—at least not by following the rules. It wasn't fair that repulsive human beings like Frank didn't have to follow the rules. He now understood how police officers felt when getting caught being too rough with a suspect. The public doesn’t understand the emotional context involved with most of these situations. Some people don't deserve fair treatment. Ethan wanted to face Frank and tell the piece of shit how evil and sick he was. He wanted to beat Frank until his face was covered in blood, leaving him permanently scarred. He wanted Frank to beg for forgiveness and scream in pain. People like Frank who destroy innocence and life are undeniably not human. A human father could not hurt their own child without in fact being a monster. Ethan couldn’t fathom any other reason. "If you need to take the day off to process this, then by all means, Ethan," Lin said. Ethan sternly stared at Lin. "No. I’m going to find Bailey a home. She deserves the love of a real family. I owe her that much.” As Ethan somberly walked out of Lin’s office, Owen curiously approached him. "Everything good, man?" Ethan didn't stop to converse. "I'm fine. We'll talk later. I'm headed back to the visitation room. I have a five-year-old girl that needs placement. She’s had a rough night."

Walking toward the visitation room, an image of Kevin's lifeless body lying on a morgue table, battered and bloody, appeared in Ethan's mind. The disturbing image was the result of a father physically beating his son to death, when he should have been protecting his child. Over what? What could the child possibly have done to deserve such a fate? Reasoning was beside the point. Ethan couldn’t change anything now, but he vowed to himself that it would never happen again. Not when there was something he could do about it. Ethan entered the visitation room. A toy box was located in the corner of the room on a carpet colorfully stitched with the alphabet. Next to the toy corner, Bailey sat in one of three small desks covered with children’s art supplies. And in the center of the room was a large, circular table that seated ten. The wall adjacent to the hallway had a horizontal, rectangular window allowing visitations to be monitored less intrusively than having a social worker hovering over everyone. Ethan was happy to see Bailey again, especially without any visible signs of physical abuse. She had somehow been spared during Frank's rampage. Bailey sat at a child-sized table, drawing pictures on paper with crayons. She didn’t lose concentration from her drawing as Ethan crouched down on both knees next to her. “Hello, Bailey. It’s been about a week since I last saw you. You’re still just as adorable as I .” “Daddy is in trouble again, huh?” Bailey switched from a blue to a red crayon, focusing on her artwork as Ethan spoke. “I’m afraid so, sweetie. Your mother and father are both in trouble for what happened to you and Kevin.” “Is Kevin going to be all right?” Ethan didn’t want to lie to the child, but he didn’t want to bluntly tell her the truth either. “I don’t think he is going to be all right, Bailey. I want you to know that none of it is your fault, though. That's very important.” Bailey put down her crayon and turned toward Ethan. “Will I see him again?” Ethan knew that if he didn’t change the subject, he was going to start bawling in front of the child. In order to effectively comfort her, he would have to be strong,

and the swelling of his tear ducts was an indication that he was about to fail at that task. “It’s important that we find you a loving home to live in. Your aunt can’t take you in because she’s a single mother with three children, and she struggles just to take care of them. You don’t have any other relatives, so I will have to place you in a foster home.” Bailey began to cry. She looked like a child lost in a shopping center, all alone and desperately looking for her parents. “I don’t want to go back to the foster home. I want to go home with Kevin. He promised he would protect me.” As a few tears escaped the restricted ducts of Ethan’s eyes and rolled down his cheeks, Bailey reached around his neck, squeezing tightly like a boa constrictor. “Bailey, I don’t want to put you in a foster home. I know someone that would love to meet you, and if we’re lucky, maybe even adopt you. Someone that will love you like her own daughter and will provide a positive environment for you to grow up in.” The young girl released her grip and looked up at Ethan with her swollen, red eyes. “Can’t I go home with you, Ethan?” He held her face in the palms of his hands, cupping her chubby little cheeks. “I’m not a foster parent, honey. But the woman I would like you to meet, Elena, is my sister-in-law. That means I’ll get to see you quite often.” Ethan managed to comfort Bailey enough to where she stopped crying and panicking. He sat her back down in the chair and pointed at her drawings. “Those are very pretty pictures, Bailey. Maybe you’ll be an artist someday.” “Thanks,” she solemnly said, picking her crayon back up to continue coloring. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, honey. Draw me something special,” he said as he left the room to give Elena a call. Janelle stood by the door as Ethan exited. “Hello again, Ethan. What’s the plan for poor Bailey?” “My sister-in-law found out she couldn’t have children, but she’s always wanted a daughter. I think they’d be good for each other.” “Can this lady handle a child that has as much psychological damage as Bailey

does? As she gets older, the young girl will most likely have some serious intimacy issues. Not to mention difficulty trusting people. She can’t handle anymore disappointment.” “I believe that Elena will be able to handle it. She’s a strong woman that was raped once when she was twelve. She has more than enough love to share, and she has experience dealing with trauma on a personal level. I think she’d be better for Bailey than anyone else would." Janelle nodded. “I trust your judgment, Ethan. I just want to make sure you’re not taking this whole situation too personally.” “Have you spoken to Bailey yet?” “Yes. I sat down with her an hour ago. She was crying profusely when we received her this morning. According to her, Kevin tried protecting her from their father's wrath. Tragically, he saved her life at the cost of his own. You know how those two children would stick together through all the abuse that they experienced. I’m sorry about how things turned out, Ethan.” Ethan closed his eyes as his head began to throb from the combination of anger and sadness he was experiencing. “Thanks, Janelle.” Walking back to his desk, he took out his cell phone and called Elena. “Hello, Ethan. You caught me on my way to work. What’s up?” “ how we spoke about adopting a child in need? Well, I have an adorable five-year-old girl in my office that would love to meet you. Is there any way you could come by before lunch? I’m trying to find her a home quickly so that I don’t have to put her back into foster care.” “Wow, this is pretty sudden, Ethan. We haven’t really committed to the idea yet.” “I’m not trying to put you in a tough position, but this little girl just lost her older brother. He was the only one that truly loved her and tried to protect her from their abusive father. A father that raped her multiple times and the mother did nothing. I tried to do everything. . .everything that I could to stop this from happening, but I failed both children. She is the sweetest little thing, and I hate to say it, but I’m begging you just to come meet her,” Ethan said, feeling bad that

he had to plead with her. Elena’s end of the phone call was silent. Ethan could have sworn she was about to turn him down. “Okay. I’ll be there in an hour. I’ll see if my husband can make it, too.” Ethan could not effectively verbalize just how thankful he actually was. “Thank you, Elena. See you then.”

CHAPTER 5

"There isn't anything more rewarding than taking in a child that just wants to have a family and be loved. I think we all can agree that every child deserves that, right?" Ethan said, glancing at the clock behind the couple inquiring about foster parenting. Work hours encroached into dinnertime as Ethan spoke with a couple. Ever since Maria mentioned she was cooking enchiladas when he spoke with her at lunch, his stomach repeatedly rumbled in anticipation. “Can you imagine what it would be like to go through childhood trauma, and not know what it’s like to be loved?” Ethan said. Because of the negative stigma associated with foster parenting, where people assume most children placed in foster care are delinquents, Ethan felt he had to sell the idea to anyone interested. Ethan escorted the couple from his cubicle to the family visitation room. “While the child lives with foster parents, he or she will have supervised visitations from either potential adoptive parents that want to meet the child, or the primary parent or guardian seeking to regain custody. We work with all parties to ascertain the best time for those visitations.” Ethan held his hands out in front of him with palms toward the couple. “Feel free to stop me if you have any questions.” The couple nodded. “Your average couple looking to adopt takes in one to two children. It’s a lifelong commitment no different than baring one’s own children. On top of that, adoptive parents accept full financial responsibility. Many people want to help these children, but not everyone is suited to be an adoptive parent because of these burdens. The husband, Tony, signaled his comprehension by nodding his head again. His wife, Layla, listened intently.

“That’s why foster parents are so important. If you chose to, and became certified, you would be taking in children for limited amounts of time until they can find adoptive parents. During the time that they live at your home, you would be paid by the state. But more importantly, you’d be giving a child the benefit of a family oriented household." "We would like to start the process, Mr. Harper. We have mulled it over for quite some time," Tony said. "Mulled? I apologize for my skepticism, but I basically see two different types of foster parents. Those that are dedicated to showing children the love and attention of parents in a stable household, while the other type just provide the minimum requirements to foster a child simply for the money.” “We are definitely the type that wants to show these children the care and attention they deserve,” Layla said. Ethan could see the sincerity in Layla's eyes. “That’s great to hear. You also have to keep in mind two important things. First, some of these children come with a lot of baggage. They come from broken homes where most are victims of physical, sexual, and verbal abuse. We determine if they require special treatment before placing them with you, but even the ones that don’t can be difficult. You and I think about transitioning from a broken home to a happy one as a Godsend, but that type of assimilation can be difficult for children. Especially if they were so young that they have no way of knowing what normal is.” “We actually didn’t consider that,” Tony said. “The second thing is that you may become attached to the children. You can decide to adopt a child if you so wish, but if that’s not your intention, it’s important to consider emotional attachment. You share your life and love with these kids, eventually having to let them go when they are adopted or of age to live on their own. You will most likely watch many children come and go.” “We have actually thought about that, Mr. Harper,” Tony said, squeezing his wife’s hand. “We plan on leaving adoption on the table, if we really do become attached.” “Great! If you can handle those two things, and really want to change the lives of

these children, you would make great foster parents. It’s a selfless endeavor much like parenting." Tony and Layla looked at one another as if they were speaking telepathically. “That’s very helpful information, Mr. Harper. We will definitely take it all into consideration,” Tony said. “I hope I didn’t scare you off. The most important part of my job is placing children in a healthy foster home after removing them from a bad environment. I take it very seriously and ensure that potential parents do, too.” “No, not at all,” Layla said, looking at Tony again. “I think we both agree that you reassured us how important foster parenting is to the children.” “That’s good to hear. If you two have any further questions or need more information, you can call us or just attend the Foster Parent Orientation. It’s free of charge on the first Monday of every month,” Ethan said as he shook their hands. “Thank you for all your help,” Tony said. Once the couple left his office, he pulled out his car keys and phone to call Maria. “Hello, honey. I’m finally on my way home. Would you mind heating me up some of those enchiladas?” “You’re in luck. I’m just about to pull them out of the oven. I started cooking a little later than anticipated.” “I’ll leave you to it. I should be home while they're still warm, babe.” Ethan hung up and sprinted for the parking lot, his mouth watering. Sitting in the living room of their six-hundred square foot apartment, Ethan and Maria watched the evening news while eating dinner. She had cooked extracheesy enchiladas for dinner. Her enchiladas were always made to perfection. One major benefit he had quickly come to realize when dating a Mexican woman, was that she was one hell of a good cook on top of being a sexy and beautiful woman. Maria had brunette hair that was naturally smooth and shiny. It reminded him of hair he had seen in shampoo commercials, glistening and bouncing in slow

motion. Her skin was soft like microfiber and light brown in shade, which would rarely get darker because she avoided the sun like a plague. Ethan was typically stress free while at home, however, the nightly news usually raised his blood pressure. More often than not, the news was sad and depressing. He would find himself trying to fathom how human beings were capable of doing such unimaginable things to one another, much like he did at work. Every night the news reported a murder, kidnapping, or some other form of abuse. Positive and uplifting stories were much more scarce. Anyone not aware of all the good people in the world could be deluded into thinking the world was nearing apocalypse. The crimes involving children were the most atrocious, inciting more disgust within him than adult crimes. That anger was the main reason that he focused his efforts on child protection. Children are, after all, the most defenseless and innocent victims. Ethan sat next to his wife on the couch while eating dinner. He took a moment to ire how beautiful Maria was as she took a bite of her enchilada. Looking over at him with a string of melted cheese dangling from her lower lip, she attempted to sweep it into her mouth by swiping at it with her tongue. Knowing that she wasn’t feeling attractive at the moment, he knew it was the perfect time to remind her how beautiful he thought she was. “You are gorgeous.” Maria swallowed the food in her mouth and began blushing. “Shut up. You’re so ridiculous.” Ethan rubbed her thigh. “I’m serious, babe. Especially in moments like these." “Thank you, honey. You must want to get frisky tonight?” Ethan knew how much she appreciated him for being an honest and selfless person, and he appreciated her for being caring and gentle. He didn’t consider himself all that handsome, exhibiting average looks and build, but his character made up for it. He kept himself in shape but didn't put as much effort into it as she did, who obsessively exercised and dieted. Every evening around dinner time she asked him how his day was, but he couldn’t help but give her one word answers like a typical man does. While his simple responses often irritated her, they never persuaded her to stop asking. She just couldn't resist. "So, how was work today, babe? Anything interesting

happen?" Ethan looked at her with his mouth full of food, causing his cheeks to bulge. "Nothing special today," he mumbled while trying to prevent drooling all over himself. He quickly gulped, swallowing the food in his mouth. Maria, staring at him with her head tilted and one eyebrow raised, was impossible to ignore. He had seen that look many times and knew that it meant his response was too basic. She was obviously fishing for a more detailed conversation. " that trial I went to? The twelve-year-old boy, Kevin?" Pausing for a moment, he knew that no response or acknowledgment from her meant he should continue. "He was abused by his father. That same father also molested his five-year-old daughter, Bailey. Kevin was supposed to testify against his father, but he changed his mind while in the courtroom and the father was cleared of all charges. Well, he murdered that boy today, and I had your sister come meet Bailey." Maria cocked her head and raised one eyebrow. "How come she hasn't called to tell me about this yet?" Ethan was at a loss. "I don't know, dear. I'm guessing because it happened pretty suddenly. The good news is that she's going to give it a try; foster parenting Bailey with the possibility of adoption." "Why did you get Elena involved? Don't you think you're taking this case too personally?" Ethan put his fork down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Why does everyone keep saying that? This isn't my first case. I've gotten to know Bailey pretty well and knew that Elena would be a perfect mother to her." Maria narrowed her eyes at Ethan. "So you're not feeling guilty and responsible about what happened? I know you, Ethan, and you took the trial pretty hard." "Well, of course I'm partially responsible. I just want the best for that poor girl, and calling Elena was me doing everything I can for her." Feeling bad for snapping at Maria, he figured he should change the subject and focus on her. "How are you feeling? Not nauseous I hope?"

She placed her hands on her stomach as if trying to conceal something. "Yes, babe, I started feeling a little better this afternoon." He shoveled another fork full of enchilada into his mouth before noticing Maria sigh, raising her hand to cover her mouth. Looking at the television, he realized she was reacting to a terrible news story. An eleven-year-old girl had been raped and murdered by her stepfather, who confessed to abusing her for at least two years. Ethan noticed Maria shaking her head and figured she was thinking the same thing he was. "Every night we watch the news and hear about such terrible things. It really seems like the world is going crazy. I can't imagine bringing a child into this world, can you, dear?" She stared at him with wide, teary eyes. "You don't honestly mean that, do you?" Judging by Maria's reaction, he could tell that the conversation suddenly took a serious turn. "Why do you ask? I feel like I just triggered a touchy subject for you." "Well," she said bowing her head, "I was going to wait to say anything until I took a second pregnancy test. . ." Ethan quickly stood up from the couch, his dinner plate falling off his lap and onto the floor. Without thinking, he could not help but blurt out, "No!" Looking down and seeing that she displayed a distraught and confused expression on her face, he defused the situation by grabbing her right hand with both of his. "You're not messing with me right now, are you?" "Yeah, Ethan, I'm messing with you about being pregnant, you dick" she said, looking up at him with tears running down her cheeks. He gave her a huge hug and laughed excitedly. "Honey, that's great, seriously. My comment about bringing a child into this world was just an exaggeration. I have more faith in us as parents than anyone else." Maria still looked sad. She reached up and grabbed his face with both hands. "I know that, Ethan, but I'm more concerned about whether or not we're ready to be parents. I'm glad you're excited and all, but we're not even married yet."

Still giggling from the excitement, he leaned over and kissed her. "We don't have to be married to be good parents. Are you certain you're ready to marry me anyway?" Before she could respond, Ethan jumped up off the couch and into a light jog straight for the bedroom. He dug around in his dresser drawer until his fingers wrapped around a palm sized, cubed box. Before closing the drawer, he ran out of the bedroom and kneeled on one knee in front of Maria. "I too was waiting until our anniversary to tell you something. Well, ask you something I suppose." Ethan presented the box to her. Now it was Maria who giggled with excitement. More tears began streaming down her cheeks, but this time tears of joy. "Of course, yes!" She hugged him tight and gave him a ionate kiss. "Hey, you didn't even let me pop the question!" "Oh stop," she said. "Did you really think you had to ask?" "That is the tradition you know." Ethan opened the box, attracting Maria's attention down toward the three, gleaming diamonds set in a fourteen karat, white-gold band. She wiped away tears that she only just realized were dripping off her chin. "Just so you know, the tears are from the fact that you were going to wait eight months until our anniversary to propose, you asshole." He took the ring out of the box and slid it on her right hand's ring finger. They embraced each other tightly again, and as they sat with their arms around one another, she whispered in his ear. "You put it on the wrong hand." Not sure which of them were correct, but sure that he didn’t want to argue, Ethan pulled the ring off and put it on her other hand. “Sorry, dear.” Looking into her brown eyes, he noticed that Maria’s expression was still sad and nervous about something. “What’s bothering you?” “I’m dreading having to tell my sister the news. Don’t you ? She found out only a month ago that she couldn’t have children. I feel like my pregnancy news might make her resent me, but it’s not like we planned on this.”

Ethan wrapped his arms around her again, squeezing her tight. “Come on now. Elena will be happy for you. She can’t possibly hold her own infertility against you. She's got her own child to focus on now. I think she'll be delighted that you both get to be mothers.” Maria gave Ethan the look, the look that only a pissed off Spanish woman could give. “You act like you don’t know my sister. Because we both went in drastically different directions after high school, everything is like a competition.” “Relax, honey. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

CHAPTER 6

Four-month-old Renee was an adorable baby, swaddled in a pink blanket embossed with a large picture of Piglet. Holding her close to his chest, Ethan looked down at her angelic face as a proud father. She was sound asleep in his arms, producing tiny spit bubbles between her red lips as she breathed. Even after four months of looking at her, he couldn't get over how white and bald she looked coming out of the womb. Based on Maria's baby pictures, they had both expected a darker skinned child with a full head of black hair. Appreciating rocking her to sleep before work, and allowing Maria time to lay down since she was usually up in the middle of the night, he was completely relaxed while holding his baby girl when she was so still and peaceful. It gave him a chance to stare at her precious face and ire what it meant to be a father. Before having a child, he only had to take care of Maria and the two could spoil themselves. Now, not only did his responsibility grow, but he also felt a different kind of purpose. He now had a daughter that he could share the magic of the world with. On top of the wonderful things to look forward to, there were many new fears he had to consider as well; more fears than other parents because of how familiar he was with the atrocities that people were capable of. Slowly and silently carrying his bundle of joy to the crib, Ethan laid her down gently to avoid waking her. Mommy was cranky enough having to wake up so early in the morning. If he had to hand Renee off to Maria again, crying and needing to be fed as he left for work, the evening would be far from stress free when he returned. He really wanted to stay and cuddle with her, but other children needed his attention at work. Having a daughter of his own made him more protective of the children he was fighting for. Trying to remain subjective and not allowing work to become more personal was an arduous task in itself. The job was difficult to mentally turn off when getting home, even before becoming a father himself.

Ethan closed the blinds in Renee's room before the rising sun was able to beam light through the bars of her crib. While shutting the door to her room, he took one last glance to make sure the baby monitor was on for Maria, and one last moment of iration for the gorgeous, little girl that he had helped create. He found it hard to believe that such a feeling was nonexistent just four months ago. Owen pulled into the office parking lot at the same time that Ethan arrived. Of course, Owen was holding a donut in his hand as he climbed out of his blue, Toyota Prius. He had a silly grin on his face as he approached Ethan. "Dude, I have a date tonight with a gorgeous little honey." Ethan gave a tight-lipped grin, nodding his head. "I'm so excited for you, buddy." "Thanks, man. I'm going to need you and Maria to come with." "Seriously? Why do you have to drop a bomb like that on me first thing in the morning? Anyway, I don't think we can get a sitter with such short notice." Owen rushed ahead and opened the door for Ethan. Not being characteristic of Owen, he was clearly kissing ass. "Can't you get your mom or mother-in-law to watch her? I really need you guys there to keep me grounded. This girl is super hot, and I'm afraid that I'll fuck this up. I was lucky as hell to even get a date with her." Ethan sat down at his desk while Owen shoved half of the donut in his mouth. "I can't wait to hear how that happened." His sarcasm was lost on Owen who couldn't wait to tell him. "So, while I was picking up donuts and coffee this morning, I couldn't take my eyes off the sexy new girl that was preparing my coffee. When she handed it to me, we locked eyes for a moment. I didn't know what to say other than to thank her." "That's so romantic, Owen. Great story." Owen barely took a breath as he continued his riveting story. "There's more, man. I sat down just so that I could hang out and watch her longer. She was busy for a moment, then looked up at me just as I tipped the coffee over onto my lap. I jumped up from the table cause that shit burned. I was probably blushing because everyone in the place was staring at me. She quickly brought over some

towels to help me out. That's when I took a chance and ively asked her out." Ethan raised his eyebrows. "And that means?" "I just said, 'Great, I just ruined any chance of taking you on a date, huh?' Surprisingly, she said she would go out with me. You don't think I seem too desperate by making our date for the same night I met her, do you?" "It really doesn't matter. If she agreed to it, you better just stick with it. I'm putting my money on it being a pity date," Ethan said, unable to prevent himself from chuckling. "Ha, ha. Will you please just go with me? I'm nervous as shit." "I'll check with Maria when I get home. I can't promise anything if we can't find someone to watch Renee, though." Lin walked up and handed a file to Ethan. "When you two are done bullshitting, I’d like you to go check this house out, Ethan. We got a tip a few minutes ago from a concerned neighbor. They're worried about a toddler living at the home in question that hasn't been seen in a while. Apparently, the home has been neglected lately, so there’s a good chance the child may be as well. Child endangerment is our primary concern, so I need you to get out there ASAP. It's yours if you can handle it right now, or Owen can have it." “No problem, Lin. I’m on it now,” Ethan said, jumping out of his chair to pursue the investigation. “Have fun, Ethan,” Owen said, waving goodbye. Assuming he was off the hook based on his condescending farewell, Lin slipped another file into his waving hand. “You should be right off behind him. You’re do for a follow-up on this case.” Ethan smiled as he left the building. Walking toward his Escape, Ethan opened the file to find the address. The exterior of the home in question was described as being neglected and in a state of disarray, beginning as recently as two months ago. A preschool-aged girl had been seen playing outside on a regular basis, but had not appeared in the last

several weeks. Fifteen minutes driving along the worn roads in San Raul’s older neighborhoods, Ethan's Escape rounded a corner onto a pothole-ridden road that was located in a low-income neighborhood. The asphalt was in shambles and covered with a thin layer of loose gravel. Due for a replacement, the bald tires on his car skidded as he came to a stop in front of the house. Looking around the neighborhood, he assumed which home needed to be investigated before even checking its address. The dilapidated, single-story house was no more than about twelve hundred square feet. The yard was overgrown with weeds and thistles where a green lawn must have existed at one time, littered throughout with trash such as an old patio set and broken appliances. The planters surrounding the front porch housed brown flowers and the skeletal remains of shrubs. Ethan wondered how lazy and disgusting a person had to be to live under such conditions, especially when housing a young child. He feared for the condition of the little girl, praying not to find her lifeless body. As he approached the front porch with notebook in hand, Ethan winced at the stench in the air. The aroma was a mixture of what he imagined to be unwashed clothes and sour milk. The aroma became more pungent the closer he came to the front door. It seemed that the smell was coming from inside the house. He couldn't fathom what he might find inside. Ethan knocked on the door, announcing his name and title as usual, but received no response. He placed his ear an inch away from the door, listening to what sounded like creaking floorboards on the opposite side of the door. "If you don't let me in, I'll have to bring the police!" Ethan shouted, loud enough that the neighbors probably heard. Still not hearing a response, he turned the knob and slowly opened the unlocked door. The chance that someone could be waiting on the opposite side of the door to attack crossed his mind, so he proceeded with caution. He realized he was entering the home illegally, but sensed that it was necessary. Something seemed wrong and the child inside may need rescuing. As Ethan pushed the door open, he held his breath knowing that the potent

stench coming from inside was about to pour out onto the porch. The door opened about a foot before it hit something that prevented any further movement. The odor was so strong that he imagined a poisonous, green mist seeping out of the doorway. He had to lift his shirt collar over his nose to prevent himself from getting nauseous. He cursed himself for not putting on any cologne before work. Brazenly, he maneuvered his head through the gap to see what was preventing any further movement of the door. Junk had been piled up on the floor and stacked against the walls in the living room. Beyond that was a kitchen plastered with dirty dishes. Counter space was nonexistent. A narrow walking path remained somewhat clear in the center of the room, leading only to the refrigerator and the couches. His heart broke as he witnessed a dog pacing back and forth, causing the damaged, chip-board floors to creak. A muzzle was attached to its face, clearly not being fed or cleaned based on its anorexic body and mangy appearance. The poor thing was missing chunks of hair and was covered with pustules. Ethan stepped inside and set his notebook down on a pile of junk, immediately removing the dog's muzzle. The dog licked his hands appreciatively before rummaging through the scattered trash for food. Sitting in the living room were a man and woman, probably in their thirties, watching television. They both wore soiled tank tops and stained, ripped jeans. They were also both obese, clearly the result of all the fast food wrappers that had been thrown throughout the house. They most likely had not bathed recently based on how dirty and greasy they appeared. Among the litter scattered throughout the living room were several empty beer cans on the floor, a bong caked in residue on the coffee table, and even a few used syringes surrounding the couch. Ethan carefully approached the man who didn't notice him. They were both high and completely oblivious to Ethan's presence. "Where the hell is your daughter?" he said, angered by the disaster he had discovered. The man remained silent for over a minute, his eyes barely open, until managing to garble out a barely audible sentence. "The kid is playing in her room."

Ethan began wading through the trash in search of the girl's bedroom. He tripped several times while making his way down the hall and stumbled upon a dead cat, likely a primary culprit of the unbearable stench. Its corpse was stiff and covered with flies. There was a plastic bag over its head and appeared to have been decomposing for some time. He began to dread the next horrific discovery. Entering what looked like a child's room, he found the girl sitting on her twin sized bed. The bed was covered with junk, preventing her from having enough room to lie down. In the corner of her room was the dead cat's litter box, overflowing with feces. Somehow, empty beer cans were scattered around the child's room as well. The little girl was a toddler, maybe four years of age. She calmly played with a dirty, tattered doll and a pony that was missing two legs. Humming to herself, the young girl played with her broken toys while completely ignoring the nightmare that surrounded her. Ethan's heart sank into his gut, his eyes unable to prevent tears from escaping as the innocent child looked up at him. Her hair was frayed and greasy as if the poor girl had not been bathed in weeks. Her blue eyes seemed to glow, surrounded by the dirt and grime that coated her face. Despite wearing smelly, unwashed clothes and being covered in filth, the child smiled at him. Children never ceased to amaze him with their ability to endure harsh treatment. They always seemed to have a positive attitude despite the deplorable situations he usually found them in. Ethan kneeled down next to the little girl, wiping tears away from his eyes. "What's your name, darling?" "My name is Lindsay. What's your name?" "I'm Ethan. Is that your mother and father in the living room?" "Yes. They're busy right now, so they told me to play in my room. I play in my room a lot." "Did you have breakfast or lunch yet?" he said, knowing that the chances were slim.

"No. I only had a slice of pizza last night before bed." Ethan's empathy for the child quickly transformed into anger directed toward the parents. Her treatment was despicable, especially knowing that it came from her own parents. "Do you mind if I take your picture, Lindsay?" "Okay!" Lindsay said, excited as most children were to have their picture taken. She reached behind her bed and pulled out a tattered, wicker hat with a ripped bow that hung off the front of it. She placed it on her head and enthusiastically said, "Cheese!" Despite the child smiling as he took a picture of her with his phone, the picture was as unsettling to look at as it was to take. He needed evidence of the state in which he found her, but vowed to get her cleaned up as soon as possible. After taking her picture, he called to alert the authorities. While on the phone with the dispatcher, Ethan ran down the hall and found the bathroom. While looking for a towel to clean Lindsay with, he cringed at the sight of black and green mold growing in the shower and toilet. There were no clean towels, so he tried to use water from the faucet to wet his shirt. Ethan figured they had not paid the water bill as no water came out. They must be living on welfare, he decided, because no one would give them employment in their current state. After hanging up with the dispatcher, he didn't hesitate calling animal control to rescue the suffering dog. Then, he quickly returned to Lindsay and picked the smelly child up in his arms, removing her from the house of horrors. "Let's go play outside together, honey." An elderly couple stood on their porch next door. They watched as Ethan carried Lindsay out of the house, gasping once they saw the state she was in. "Can you please help me clean her up?" Ethan said. "Of course, sir. Bring her inside and we can give her a shower," the old man said. Ethan followed the couple inside and put Lindsay down in the bathroom. "Will you be all right if. . ." Ethan turned to the old woman, "Sorry, what's your name, ma'am?"

"I'm Claire," the elderly woman said. "Can Claire run the shower for you, Lindsay?" Lindsay nodded her head, so Ethan left them to it. He walked back outside and stood on the porch next to the old man. "Were you the ones that reported the parents?" "Yes, sir. We were concerned for that poor girl. We often watched her playing by herself outside most of the time. Her parents aren't friendly types, but that sweet little thing has always been very friendly and well behaved. It's a damn shame to see how they've been treating her. Some people just don't deserve to be parents." Ethan nodded his head. "You're damn right about that." "Did the parent’s not put up much of a fight for her?" "No. I don't think they even noticed. They're high out of their minds. I'm going back over to have a chat with them. The police should be here soon." Ethan entered the disgusting living room and stood in front of the television, blocking the parents' view. The father groaned, but couldn't rouse enough energy to move. "You fucking people," Ethan said, remaining perfectly calm. "I can't believe you two worthless human beings would treat a child like that." There was no reaction from the couple. He couldn't tell if the mother was asleep or dead, but the father was still vaguely conscious. Ethan came within inches of the man's face. "Your daughter is being taken away from you. You don't deserve her." Ethan grabbed the man's greasy, chubby cheeks, pursing his lips. "You will both go to jail. While you're in prison, you're going to forget that you even have a daughter." Ethan let go of his face and picked up a used syringe off the grimy floor. He imagined how easy it would be to just inject another syringe full of heroin into each of their arms. Assuming they may have overdosed already, he decided jail and the threat of murder would do the trick. He pointed the syringe at the father's face in a threatening manner. "If you attempt to get your daughter back, I will seek out and kill you both. I can easily make it look like a junkie accident. I'll do whatever it takes to protect that beautiful little girl that you have disgustingly

neglected." Ethan placed the syringe on the man's lap, watching as he succumbed to the drugs and lost consciousness. Ethan left the house confident that he had made his point. The death threat was meant to be empty; a scare tactic used solely to deter them. But deep down, realizing that the parents might get sober in jail and actually try to regain custody of their daughter, he couldn't rule out keeping good on his word as it would be the only way he could live with himself. He couldn't let Lindsay be another Kevin East. Inside the neighbor's home, Claire was combing Lindsay's hair while the girl ate a sandwich. Lindsay looked like a completely different child. She was finally clean and wore a brand new, Disney princess dress, which happened to be one size too big for her. Ethan smiled when he saw how delighted and appreciative Lindsay looked. "You are very adorable, Lindsay. . .I mean, princess." Lindsay grinned at Ethan with a mouth full of food, crumbs falling from her lips. "The dress was for my niece," Claire said. "I figured Lindsay could use it more. I can just pick up another one later." Ethan grabbed Claire's hand. "Thank you for all your help, Claire." Sirens arrived outside, prompting Ethan to meet them outside. Only one police car arrived, but another could be heard in the distance. He greeted the male and female officers that climbed out of the cruiser, holding Lindsay by the hand. "I'm Ethan and I work for Child and Family Services. There's a man and a woman stoned out of their minds inside. I removed the child from the home as soon as I entered." Ethan leaned closer and whispered, "It's a hell hole." The officers entered the home. Ethan witnessed their reactions to the stench, both cupping their noses with their hands simultaneously. He had no intention of going near the house again. The odor still lingered in his sinuses. The mother had to be carried out by the officers. Her feet dragged along the ground as each officer had one of her arms around their neck. The other police car arrived while they were placing her in the back of the cruiser and handcuffing her.

Two male officers got out of the newly arrived vehicle and were led inside by the others. The two new arrivals both had the same disgusted reaction upon entering the front door. Escorting the drugged father out of the house required all four officers, who carried him out in handcuffs. Animal control pulled up to the house during all the commotion. Ethan greeted the two individuals and directed them inside the house to find the dog. "Where are they taking Mommy and Daddy?" Lindsay said. "They have to go away for a while. They weren't treating you properly, honey." He could see a nervous expression on her face. One of the officers approached Ethan. The name tag on his lapel read "Watkins." "Is the child taking this well?" Ethan waved Claire over and handed her Lindsay's hand. "Do you mind putting her in my car?" "Of course," she said. Once Lindsay was out of earshot, he responded to Watkins. "The girl was in bad shape. She hadn't been bathed in at least a week, but possibly longer. They weren't feeding her much either." "Who answered the door when you arrived?" Watkins asked. "The father was clearly too wasted to answer the door, so he just shouted for me to come inside after I threatened to bring the police if he didn't let me in. The door was irresponsibly unlocked, by the way," Ethan said, fabricating the truth a little to make sure the case didn’t get thrown out. "Did you have a warrant?" "No. I was just investigating an anonymous tip from the neighbors." "Did you touch anything once inside the home?" Watkins asked. "No, sir. . .well, actually, I took a muzzle off the dog because it hadn't eaten in quite some time. Other than that, I just carried the girl out of that shit hole."

Watkins put his pen and notepad back in his pocket. "All right, that should be all for now. You did a good job today, sir. Even though I've seen many instances of this kind of neglect, it's not something you get used to. I'm sure you understand that." Ethan's stomach began rumbling as he walked back to the Escape and sat in the driver's seat. He rolled down the window as the elderly gentleman approached his door. "Thank you for all your help, sir. I know Lindsay appreciates it, too. You're a good neighbor." "You take care of that girl. We'll pray for you both. You do God's work," the man said, shaking Ethan's hand and walking back to his porch. Ethan had always thought so, but enjoyed hearing it from someone else. He looked at Lindsay in the rear-view mirror as she hummed to herself and ired the jewels on her dress. "Do you have a grandma or grandpa, dear? Or aunt and uncle?" "I don't know," she said. "I have to take you to a foster home for the night. It's a family that will take care of you until I can find you a permanent home. If you have any relatives, I'll find them for you. I can promise you that."

CHAPTER 7

The afternoon sun, glowing with dark-orange and red intensity, began to sink behind the horizon of pine trees. Most bedrooms were still lit by the fading light, except for fourteen-year-old Eve’s bedroom. The windows in Eve’s room were covered by dark, black-out curtains that remained closed most of the time. The walls were poorly painted with black paint. Eve was proud of the paint job, though, since she had done it herself. As long as she followed a few basic rules of the house, her mother didn’t really care what she did to her bedroom. Eve had seen her mother, Beth, date at least ten different men over the last year. The dating started immediately after the divorce was finalized from her father. Since the divorce, she began to shun her mother. Eve had a strong feeling that the divorce was all Beth’s fault. She deeply missed her father, Russell. He was a fun-loving, outgoing, and laid back man that she had always been close with. She had no problem itting to being a daddy’s girl. Eve would often reminisce about the good times they had as a family, when everything seemed to be perfect. There was a time that she had seen her parents in love and inseparable. Just before the divorce, her mother became annoyed and angry over mundane things. Her distance from Russell grew and she would act as if family life bored her. Beth even began ignoring Eve, most likely because of how close she was to her father. They rarely spoke to one another anymore, so Eve could not confide in Beth about personal matters. She would end up calling her father anytime she needed moral . The only reason Beth fought for custody of her was for the child . Living with her mother was miserable, so she cherrished the two weekends a month that she stayed with her father. Eve lay on her bed video chatting with her friend, Denise. She had no intention of leaving her room. She was avoiding having to socialize with her mother and

new boyfriend of two weeks. She feared being unable to hold out much longer because her stomach was rumbling. She knew she would have to eat soon or risk starving to death. It was her own fault, eating only one meal a day in fear that she might become a fat, social outcast; a fear she realized was perpetuated by pop culture and the internet. "Can you come over later?" Denise asked. "Maybe. My mother has that Jason guy over right now. I don't want to be around because they make me feel uncomfortable." Eve shook her hands and pretended to shiver. "Jason seems like a real creep." "Sounds terrible. Maybe you can scare the guy away by being a real bitch?" "I don't really care that much. Beth can date any freak she wants. I really just want to live with my dad. There's no reason for me to be here because she doesn't give two shits about me." Denise displayed her middle finger for the camera. "Give Beth the bird and get over here, girl. My mom's making Fettuccini tonight." "That sounds really good right now. I'm pretty hungry. I'll come over in a few hours." Eve noticed her bedroom door opening out of the corner of her eye. Knowing that it was Beth, Eve had no interest in hearing what her mom had to say. She ignored Beth's presence by continuing her conversation with Denise. “Eve, I’m going ou—” Beth didn’t finish her sentence, noticing that Eve wore headphones and was having a conversation. Beth picked up a bottle of nail polish from the dresser next to the doorway, tossing it at Eve to grab her attention. The polish hit her squarely in the back of her head. Throwing her headphones off and heatedly turning around, Eve was ready to throw the nail polish right back. “What the hell, Beth? That hurt.” “Sorry, but you couldn't hear me with your headphones on.” “You could have tapped me on the shoulder or something. You don’t have to be a bitch all the time."

Beth pointed her finger and shook it at Eve. “You don’t talk to me like that! I was going to see if you needed anything while I’m out running errands, but now you’re just shit out of luck! You should go outside and get some sun. . .you pale brat,” she said, slamming the door as she left. Eve turned back to her computer and rolled her eyes. "Sorry you had to see that, Denise. I'm going to grab some lunch quick. I'll text you when I'm on my way over. See you soon." "See you in a bit, girl." Eve closed her laptop and lay on her bed for several minutes. Intently listening for Beth's car engine to start and fade away, she decided it would be safe to scrounge for food in the kitchen. Eve opened the fridge, grabbing turkey and vegetables to make a sandwich. As she shut the refrigerator door, she was startled by Jason who was standing silently behind it. “Damn, Jason! You scared the shit out of me.” “Sorry,” he said in an unapologetic tone, leaning against the refrigerator. “You have a dirty mouth, honey. You shouldn’t talk to your mother or I like that.” Eve continued to make her sandwich. “Look, Jason, I don’t know you or care to know you. You’re not going to be around in a week anyway. Beth gets bored of all men quickly. Seeing as how you don't have that much going for you, I'm sure you'll be no different.” While spreading mayonnaise on her sandwich, Jason just stood there, staring at her. She could feel his eyes on her and heard him breathing heavily. She began to feel uneasy. She had not been around him much since he started dating Beth, but anytime she had been within eyesight of him, she would catch him staring. All she wanted to do now was take her sandwich back to her room and lock the door. Jason stood in her way as she tried to leave the kitchen. He would step left and right to intentionally stop her from getting by him. “That’s a pretty big sandwich you made. How are you going to be able to fit that thing in your mouth?” Disgusted and frustrated, Eve stopped trying to get by him. “What is your problem, creep?” She flipped him off.

"Would you?" Jason slapped the sandwich out of her hand, grabbing her arm tightly. "I've met a lot of girls like you, Eve. I know that you and I both want the same thing. Come to the bedroom with me, and I promise to take you shopping at the mall after." Shocked, Eve struggled to pull her arm out of his grasp, but he pushed her to the ground and sat on top of her before she could get away. Eve was pinned down by his two-hundred-pound weight. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Jason squeezed her face with one hand, forcing her to look at him. “The less you fight, the easier this will be for both of us. If you put up a fight or tell anyone about this, I will kill you and your mother." Eve wouldn’t allow herself to willingly be subjected to his abuse. She stopped moving long enough to get a leg free, then kneed him in the groin. Her father had told her to do so if she ever had to defend herself. Russell always said, "Every man is susceptible to a groin hit." She now knew how true the statement was as Jason fell off her, struggling to breathe. She swiftly made her way into the kitchen where she grabbed a knife to defend herself. Her only thought at the moment was to get back to her bedroom where she had left her cell phone. Her plan was to call the police and escape out the window. She slowly walked toward the hallway expecting to keep Jason back with the knife. Her hands were shaking from the fear induced adrenaline that was surging through her body. Uncontrollable tears began flooding her eyes, making it difficult to see clearly. She desperately kept the knife held firmly out in front of her while struggling to clear her eyes with the other hand. As she peeked around the corner into the hallway, Jason was nowhere to be found. Eve spun around to make sure he wasn’t sneaking up behind her, then ran down the hall to her bedroom. Sprinting through her bedroom doorway, she slammed the door shut and locked it behind her. She immediately jumped on the bed and reached out for her cell phone. As her fingers wrapped around the device, Jason popped up from the opposite side of the bed, punching Eve in the side of her face. The force and pain from the punch confused her equilibrium. She fell back off

the bed, knife still in hand, but not her cell phone. She could taste blood seeping from her cheek and her head began throbbing. She barely noticed the blurry silhouette of Jason as he lunged at her. She swung the knife across thin air multiple times until the sharp blade made with Jason’s bicep as her instinct to survive took over. The cut was not deep, but made Jason pause and step back. Using all her energy, Eve sprung off the floor, like a coiled snake attacking its prey, thrusting the knife into his shoulder. The knife buried itself almost deep enough to hide the entire blade, forcing a scream out of his mouth. Staring at one another, Eve thought that time had froze. She could tell by his eyes that he had endured enough of her survival instincts, and in that moment, she feared for her life. She knew there was nothing else she could do. Jason reached up and wrapped both of his hands around her neck, pushing her back against the floor. Her breathing began to slow as his grip tightened, attempting to wring her neck like a wet towel. She dug her nails into the flesh on his arms, fighting to reach out for his face, but it was just beyond the reach of her shorter arm span. Eve heard his pants unzip when he removed one hand from her throat, then felt her shorts being pulled down. As she was penetrated, her mind began to drift away from the nightmare that she was living. Her first thought was to blame her mother because it was her fault for bringing Jason into their lives. Beth's promiscuous lifestyle had put Eve in danger. She despised her mother more than ever before. Not one good memory came to mind involving Beth. As Jason's grip tightened completely around her throat, she ceased being able to inhale any more oxygen. She knew Jason was going to murder her. Eve's vision began to fade to black and her last thought was of her father. She wanted to be with Russell more than anything. She wanted to be with him on the coast where he lived. She could feel the salty, sea air on her face as they sat together on the porch looking out over the vast ocean; safe in the presence of the one man that would protect her from all the evils in the world.

CHAPTER 8

Outside Lin's office window, blue and purple hues enfolded the sky as the sun nearly disappeared completely behind the horizon. Ethan and Lindsay sat next to each other, both staring out the window and iring the sunset. Lindsay devoured a candy bar that he had purchased for her from the vending machine, melted chocolate glazing her lips. Lin pulled up a list of available foster homes on her computer. “Come take a look, Ethan." Ethan walked over to stand behind Lin’s chair. Scanning the foster home registry on her computer, he chose a home that had the fewest amount of children residing in it so that Lindsay would get the attention she deserved. There was one home currently housing a twelve-year-old girl and a four-month-old infant. The foster parents were willing to house three children. “Do you know these foster parents?” Ethan said, pointing at the computer screen. “We haven’t dealt with this particular home before. The children there were placed by another agency.” “Damn. I hate placing children with foster parents I’m not familiar with." “I understand that not being familiar with foster parents makes you uncomfortable, but this looks like the most beneficial opening we have right now.” Ethan called the foster home to request their assistance and a woman's voice answered. "Hello, this is Carly." "Good evening. This is Ethan Harper with Child and Family Services. I have a four-year-old here that needs a home. Would you be able to take her in tonight?" "Oh, of course. We would love to have her. I'm taking a late shift tonight, so my fiancé, Chris, will be home when you get here."

Ethan hesitated. "Uh, has he been certified through the foster parent training?" "Yes, I had him become certified after he proposed to me two months ago." "Okay then. I'll be there in about a half hour. Thank you so much for being so accommodating and making this whole process simple. This little girl has been through a lot." Placing his cell phone down on the table, Ethan sighed, exhaling loud enough to grab Lindsay's attention. She looked up from her coloring book for a moment, smiled at him, and then went back to coloring. She did not personify a child who had been neglected in the terrible way that she had been. She was jovial rather than melancholy, and didn't seem to have a care in the world. Images of Renee materialized in his mind. He hoped that she would have the same attitude as Lindsay through any adversity she may face. He would do everything in his power to prevent anything bad happening to her, but was terrified by the thought that as a child ages into adulthood, a parent's power over them naturally deteriorates. "Ready to go?" Ethan asked. "Okay, but can I take my art?" Ethan smiled. "Of course you can." His stomach grumbled while walking with Lindsay to his car. Since he had not eaten all day, he began to feel lightheaded. He pictured gulping an entire dinner meal off his plate in one large bite like a cartoon character, his jaw opening far beyond its physical capabilities. The silver Escape sped down the highway at ten miles over the speed limit, driven by hunger and exhaustion. Lindsay sat calmly and quietly in the back seat, her eyelids becoming heavier each time she blinked, slowly closing into a peaceful slumber as he looked back at her. Ethan pulled up to the curb in front of the foster home. It was a townhouse located in the lower income part of town, but the small yard and the area around the home were well manicured. The building had not aged as poorly as several of the other buildings along the street.

He knocked on the door with Lindsay standing close to his side, as if she was using him as a shield to protect herself from whomever was about to open the door. "Uh. . .just a minute. . .I'll be right there," a male voice said. A minute turned into three, causing Ethan to become suspicious, especially since their arrival was expected. A young man opened the door to greet them. He was in his late twenties, unshaven, hair astray, and looked nervous. “Come on in,” he said, pointing the way toward the living room. “Please make yourself at home, little girl.” Ethan walked Lindsay into the home, her grip tightening around his hand. He hated having to put her through further unease by leaving the scared and nervous young child in the care of strangers. The twelve-year-old girl that was currently living in the home sat on the couch watching a teen soap opera on television. He sat Lindsay on a couch opposite the teen and walked with Chris into the kitchen. “So, Lindsay was just taken from a home where she was seriously neglected. I’m hoping you guys will be able to give her plenty of attention while she’s here.” “Oh, for sure, buddy,” Chris said. “I’m sure Camryn will treat her like a little sister, won’t you, Camryn?” Completely ignoring Chris, not to mention their very presence, Ethan knew she wouldn’t likely make Lindsay feel at home. While speaking to Chris, he noticed sweat beads running down the sides of the man's head as if he had just returned from a run. It wasn’t particularly warm in the home either, so Ethan assumed something was amiss. “Where’s the infant? Your fiancé accepted a four-month-old a few weeks ago, isn't that right?” Chris paused with his mouth hanging open while he pondered a response. “Yes, that’s little Tomi. He’s upstairs sleeping in his crib. Took me a while to get him asleep, but you could say I have a way with kids.” Ethan could not deny that Chris looked and acted paranoid, so he decided to be extra careful while inspecting the home. Even though he was exhausted and

ready to get home, he felt it necessary to check on the infant. "Would you mind if I go up and check on the little guy? I'd love to meet him. I’ve got a soft spot for cute, little babies." Chris reached out and nearly grabbed Ethan by the arm, but refrained from making physical at the last minute. "I wish you wouldn't. He was pretty cranky before falling asleep. I could use some peace and quiet for a bit." Knowing how upset babies become when woken from their slumber, and observing Camryn completely unconcerned about anything other than her television show, Ethan decided to call it a night despite his better judgment. “All right, Chris. Make sure you take good care of these kids.” Ethan walked into the kitchen and heard a faint, muffled scream. He stopped in his tracks and stepped back into the kitchen, carefully listening for the sound again. Chris tried to start talking again, but Ethan quickly held his hand up and gestured for him to be quiet. “We’ll take really good car—” Chris said, speaking regardless of Ethan's objections. “Shut the hell up, Chris!” The sound he had heard became louder once stepping back into the kitchen. He slowly stepped toward the sound, pinpointing the location by following the escalation in volume with each step. While still faint, the sound was much clearer once he found himself standing in front of the refrigerator. Ethan reached out and opened the refrigerator door. He found nothing unusual, so he then opened the freezer. Chris put his hands on his head and began whining. “It wouldn’t shut up. I didn’t know how to shut it up. I was going to take it out soon, I swear.” Ethan's hands reached into the freezer and pulled out the tiny, baby boy who was screaming at the top of his lungs. Tomi’s scream stuttered from his vocal cords being over stressed. The child's skin and lips were a pale shade of blue. Having been placed on top of an ice cube tray, there were cubes frozen to the skin on his back, legs, and head.

Ethan wrapped the baby in a blanket he grabbed from the arm of the living room couch. He knew that he would have to let the ice cubes thaw, for pulling them off would peel the skin along with them. Chris just sat at the kitchen table with his head down on his arms, sobbing and repeating himself. "I'm sorry. It wouldn't stop crying. I was going to take him out." His energy for the day completely drained, Ethan still became livid with Chris for what he had done. Patting and rubbing the baby rolled up in the blanket, he marched over to the television and shut it off. "Hey, I was watching that," the twelve-year-old said immediately after the screen went black. "Would you please take Lindsay to her room? You two can get to know one another." The girl sat still for a moment, not realizing what had just happened. Ethan pointing toward the staircase was enough to convince her, having pointed his finger with authority. "Okay." The baby stopped crying and began to fall asleep as Ethan rocked him back and forth. He could feel the blanket dampening as the ice cubes melted. Deciding he could put Tomi down to sleep, Ethan walked past a sobbing Chris to find a crib. He found the crib in the master bedroom and wrapped the infant in a new blanket that he found hanging over the railing. Very little ice was left to melt and the child had regained most of its natural, pink tone. Tomi had worn himself out by crying at the top of his lungs. Ethan called the police as he looked down at the sleeping infant, aching to get home to his own daughter. He spoke to the same dispatcher from earlier in the day, which might have been humorous under different circumstances. After Ethan got off the phone with emergency services, he couldn't help but imagine Chris placing Renee in the freezer. The thought angered him, driving him to march back into the kitchen to confront Chris. Ethan charged toward Chris and yanked on the back of his chair to throw him to

the ground. Chris fell backward in his chair, hitting the floor hard and causing a thunderous crash. Ethan stood over him, reaching down to grab Chris's shirt collar and pulling him to his feet."What the hell are you doing, man?" Chris said, clearly shocked at Ethan's reaction. Ethan pushed Chris against the refrigerator, swiftly punching him in the stomach. As Chris leaned forward and gasped for air, he slapped Chris's head up against the fridge. "If I didn't get here when I did, that infant would be dead, making you a murderer. You're still going to do some time for child endangerment and likely for attempted murder." Chris's eyes grew wide in terror, reacting just as Ethan had hoped. Shaking his head with a perplexed expression, Ethan felt the need to ask him a question that he knew would go unanswered. "Why would you do that? You're supposed to take care of these children, not endanger them." Chris looked back at him with tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't stand its crying. I couldn't make it stop." "That's no excuse!" Ethan shouted. He wanted to lay into Chris. So much anger had built up throughout the day that violence became the only acceptable outlet. Sirens arrived outside, preventing him from beating Chris to within an inch of his life. After letting Chris go, the guy just curled up into a ball on the kitchen floor. Ethan took a few deep breaths to compose himself as the paramedics carried Tomi out of the house. Once he was calm, he pulled his cell phone out to call Lin. She answered just before the call went to voice mail. "Hey, Lin. We're going to need a new foster home. Please the agency responsible for Camryn and Tomi, and let them know that the EMTs are taking the infant to the hospital so they can monitor him through the night." "Wow, Ethan. You're on a roll today. What the hell happened? Wait, just tell me about it when you get the kids back here. I've got to make some phone calls." After hanging up with Lin, Ethan called Maria to let her know his status. "Hey, honey. I'm going to be a little late tonight. It has been one hell of a day. Don’t bother leaving any food out for me. I’m going to have to pick something up quick before I die from starvation. I love you."

CHAPTER 9

Jason had not expected the moody teen to have quite so much vigor. His fantasy about the girl was erotically arousing, but had played out to be violently stimulating instead. He loosened his grip as Eve's face turned purple from the lack of oxygen and blood circulation. He dropped her motionless body, which thumped against the thinly carpeted floor as she hit the ground. Disappointment set in, not from the possible consequences of his actions, but from how everything played out. He had many more plans for her. Of all the children he had abused, never had a child fought back the way that Eve did. He blamed the unfortunate outcome on her age. Eve was older than most the girls he usually had a fancy for. The left side of Jason’s shirt was soaked in blood, causing him to become lightheaded from how much he had lost. He knew the bleeding had to be stopped. Based on the many movies he had seen, Rambo in particular, the knife wound needed to be cauterized. Desperately scavenging around the house, the thought of Beth returning home and finding his crime scene motivated him to move quickly. It wasn't the first time he had killed someone, but he had never murdered an adult before. If Beth were to discover his secret, he would surely have to take her life. Starting in the kitchen, he considered using a hot pan, but that would be too big. He ran into the bathroom looking for hydrogen peroxide, and to his convenience found a curling iron sitting out on the counter. That would be the perfect tool to stop his bleeding, but it was going to hurt like hell. Jason reached under the sink and pulled out the peroxide. He set the iron on its highest setting, placed a hand towel in his mouth, bit down hard, and pulled the knife out as carefully as he could. A stream of blood followed behind the blade, coating the counter and sink with blood. Within seconds, the bathroom transformed into a bloody operating room. While bearing the pain that came from the knife re-cutting through the flesh in

his shoulder as it was removed, he immediately placed the scalding iron against his wound. The sizzling sound of the blood boiling was accompanied by the smell of burnt flesh—his scream muffled by the towel in his mouth, which he bit down on as hard as he could. After ten unbearable seconds, figuring the bleeding would have stopped, he pulled the iron away from his shoulder. Strands of hair that clung to the curling iron were now melted into his wound. Pulling the hair out of his shoulder pinched, feeling as if they grew directly out of his own skin. Parts of the wound were cauterized, but there was a portion of it that he had missed and was still seeping blood. Once again he placed the iron on his wound, sizzling like a fajita plate from a Mexican restaurant. While Jason endured the pain, he probably would have ed out had his life not relied on covering up a murder. Sitting for a moment until the pain subsided to a manageable level, Jason went back into Eve's bedroom and threw her lifeless body over his shoulder, barely causing his shoulder further pain because she only weighed about ninety-two pounds. He carried her to the front door and opened it. Before walking outside, Jason stuck his ear out to listen for any nearby vehicles that may be coming down the road. All he could hear was the chirping of birds, so he walked as fast as he could over to the bed of his red pickup truck. He launched her body off his shoulder into the bed of the truck with zero regard for her corpse. Walking nonchalantly back inside the house, Jason looked for a blanket he could cover her body with. He decided to use a blanket from the linen closet rather than one from Eve's bed so that less attention would be drawn to her disappearance. He figured she would just be considered another entitled and undisciplined teenager that ran away from home. Once he stepped back outside, he could hear the rumble of a car engine coming down the road. Jason's demeanor quickly changed as he sprinted toward the truck and threw the blanket over Eve's body with urgency. He then ducked down behind the tire as the car drove past. He now had to figure out what to do with the body. As luck would have it— because God could not possibly have any part in Jason’s good fortune—the single story, two-bedroom home was located in Beavercreek, Oregon’s countryside. A rural, country road ran in front of the home, while the backyard contained a spring-fed pond surrounded by pine trees. Neighboring homes were

a quarter of a mile away down either direction of the road. There could be no better place to cover up a crime. Jason had driven away before Beth left the house to grocery shop, so she was under the impression that he had left the area. The most difficult part about covering up the heinous crime he had just committed, became cleaning up all the blood he had spilled. The carpet in Eve’s bedroom was a light, tan color, similar to coastal sand. There were a few drops of blood that had dripped during his trip to the bathroom. He used scissors from the bathroom to cut the top of the blood stained strands. The carpet was several years old, so there were stains and impressions scattered throughout the room. The portions he had cut were barely noticeable. Jason then used an old t-shirt from his car to clean up the blood in the bathroom. He wiped up the blood using the shirt, and then wrung it out in the toilet. The tiled, bathroom sink and floor had dark grout that didn’t take much scrubbing to clean up, but the curling iron had to be scrubbed in order to remove the burnt blood. When he had finished cleaning, he put the shirt in a plastic bag with the strands of carpet. Jason scoured the entire house for any evidence he might mistakenly leave behind, covering all his tracks. He placed the clean knife back in the kitchen drawer and placed the curling iron back just as he had found it. All evidence of a struggle had been erased and everything had been placed back in its rightful spot. He even ate the sandwich that Eve had prepared before her demise. Once inside his truck, he took a deep breath and relaxed. All that could be heard was the birds tweeting and tree branches rustling in the breeze. Nature was calm and peaceful, oblivious to the atrocity that had just been committed. With a smile on his face, Jason drove out of the gravel driveway and onto the paved road, where he stopped. He got out of the car and removed his tread marks from the gravel driveway by swiping his foot back and forth along the ground. Jason knew he would have to stay with Beth for at least another month to help console her through the process of mourning a runaway daughter. Leaving her right away would be suspicious, so he would have to impatiently wait to find his next victim.

Filled with confidence that he had gotten away with murder thus far, he drove away in search of the perfect place to hide Eve's body.

CHAPTER 10

The walk from his car to the office was an uncomfortable one. Ethan had inhaled the burger and fries he had purchased from a drive through within minutes, unable to recollect whether he even chewed his food or not. The speed at which he consumed his dinner, not to mention the quality of it, had developed a stomach ache that made any form of movement uncomfortable. The food felt as if it was stuck in his throat. Walking straight into Lin’s office, he sat down and tried to get comfortable. There was no position that he could contort his body into that would relieve his pain, short of lying down and sleeping it off. Lin noticed how uncomfortable he was by his facial expressions. “You eat too much too fast? Here, you can thank me later,” Lin said as she pulled a bottle of Pepto-Bismol out of her desk drawer, throwing it to Ethan. Unprepared to react quickly, the bottle landed on his stomach before he could catch it, nearly making him puke. “Thanks, Lin. I really appreciate it.” While Ethan poured the pink syrup into the plastic measuring cup that came affixed to the cap, Lin detailed the living arrangement options she had put together while he was out getting dinner. “Camryn has been in and out of several foster homes over the past five years. Now she’s old enough for a group home. Her case worker is en route to pick her up.” Ethan shook his head. “I’m not really a fan of group homes when the kids are a bad influence on one another. I hope they place her in one without the usual bad apples." “I'm familiar with one home that has several attentive group home staff employees. They have proved to be quite effective in preparing the children to live on their own and attentively monitor all their activities. I think it would be a nice change for Camryn and would help her more than being placed with new foster parents. I'll be suggesting it to her case worker." “I suppose you’re right, Lin. You have been doing this longer than I have. I

really wish more people were up to the challenge of adopting the older kids, though. Teenagers struggle the most within the system.” “It’s a shame, but you can’t blame them. Everyone re being a teenager. Now take that memory and multiply it by all the trauma these kids experience. It’s very difficult to raise a child like that. That’s the way life is,” Lin said, raising her eyebrows and smiling. “The good news is that I found Lindsay's grandparents.” Ethan perked up and ignored his bloated stomach. “Really? That’s great! Well, that depends on whether they condone how her mother and father were living?” “That’s the good news. They apparently had no idea Lindsay existed. Their daughter cut off all with them when she fell in with a bad crowd and started doing drugs. I talked to them on the phone and they sounded very eager to meet their granddaughter. They’re on their way down from Bakersfield to pick her up. Should be here within the hour at this point.” “Thank God. Lindsay needs a stable home that can provide the love and care every child deserves. I’m so glad to hear that, you have no idea,” Ethan said with a sigh of relief. “Until the parents get out of rehab and prison to get custody back. Then the child’s life gets upended again." “The way they treated this girl, I don’t think they’ll be interested in regaining custody,” he said, smiling on the inside knowing that he had made sure they wouldn’t pursue Lindsay. “What about the infant? I’d be willing to take that adorable boy in if I didn’t have a baby of my own at home." “Tomi's case worker assured me that there were a few couples interested in adopting an infant, so I’m confident we don’t have to worry about that little guy.” “I’m sure of it. If you saw him you’d know why." Ethan raised his palm, initiating a high five. "You do damn good work, Lin.” “You didn’t really think I became supervisor without being one of the best, did you?” Lin smirked. “Speaking of good work, how has Bailey been doing with Eleanor?”

“They have been getting along great. She told me that Bailey has some bad days where she is really quiet and somber, but they try and do something fun with her during those moods. I think taking her in has been very rewarding for Eleanor.” “I’m glad it’s working out. Hopefully you feel more accomplished and confident. You weren’t responsible for what happened to Kevin, but you were responsible for giving Bailey a productive second chance. I hope you can see it that way,” Lin said as she got up to leave the office. “Let’s go see how the kids are doing.” Ethan stood up carefully to avoid letting out a fart as his stomach started feeling bubbly, following her toward the visitation room where the two girls were hanging out together under the supervision of a visitation supervisor. Before Lin could open the door, Ethan stopped her. “Lin, could I ask you a personal question?” Lin raised an eyebrow portraying how intrigued she was. “Depends, how personal is the question?” “I would like to know, in all honesty, how you deal with the psychological trauma? You’ve been doing this fifteen years longer than I. That’s a lot of abused, battered, and neglected children. Then there’s all the despicable and disturbed people abusing those children. How do you not get disheartened?” he said, enthralled to hear her response. Lin placed her hand on his shoulder. “It wasn’t easy at first. When I was younger, I didn't know how to handle failure. I just had to fail several times before coming to with reality. We can't save them all, but it's not for a lack of trying." "I don't feel like I can accept that. What if it's not something I can get over?" "I know what you’re going through, Ethan. When there isn’t enough evidence to convict or even pursue a case against someone you know is guilty; witnessing the crippling fear and abashment in a child’s eyes when asked about the crimes committed against them; and of course, realizing that everything you do to the best of your ability may not result in a positive outcome. After seeing all that, and many times over mind you, you ascertain that this is the way the world is. You may even come to expect it.”

Having expected Lin to have the magic answer that would allow him to evade the misanthropic attitude he had begun to develop, was his own fault. “That’s really it? I just have to accept it?” Lin took her hand off his shoulder and raised her index finger at him. “Ah, I never said accept. Even knowing the reality of our judicial system and human nature, you never accept it. We continue to fight with the belief that we can change the way things are. You either continue the fight for the children, or you secede from the idea that you will ever make a difference. Wouldn’t you also argue that helping even one child and changing their life for the better is worth all the losses combined?” While appreciating the honest perspective that she was kind enough to share, he couldn’t help but feel more morose than uplifted. “I won’t stop fighting and doing everything I can for the children. If we don’t, then who will?” Lin winked at him and entered the visitation room. “Hello, children. Camryn, could you come over here so that I can speak with you?” Camryn walked over to Lin while Ethan sat down on the floor next to Lindsay. She sat playing with a wooden train track, her eyes heavy and droopy from drowsiness. Ethan felt the same way. It had been a long day for both of them. “Good news, Lindsay. Your grandma and grandpa are going to take you home. I understand that you haven’t met them before, but they are your family and they can’t wait to meet you.” Lindsay looked at Ethan and smiled. “Really? I didn’t know I had any grandparents. Are they nice?” “I haven’t met them yet, but they sound very nice. They’re like your neighbors. You really liked Claire, didn’t you?” “Good. Do they have a bath? I want to take a bath tomorrow again,” she said, showing more enthusiasm for bathing than most kids did for toys. “I’m sure they’ll let you take a bath as often as you want to,” Ethan said with a smile. Lindsay desperately wanted to close her eyes. “I’m tired.”

“Come here,” Ethan said, picking her up and allowing her to lay in his arms. “You can lie down and I’ll wake you when your grandparents arrive.” “Thank you, Ethan.” Lindsay had only just met Ethan, but she was comfortable enough with him to fall asleep in his arms. At that moment, after all the frustration from his travails throughout the day, just knowing that Lindsay was now going to be in a normal household in contrast to the junk yard he had found her in, gave him solace. Now that his job was done, he yearned to be home holding his own sleeping daughter. Any day that started and ended with a sleeping child safe in his arms was a good day. While holding Lindsay for fifteen minutes, sitting in silence and allowing the child to rest, Ethan began to fall in and out of sleep. Before he could completely out, an older couple entered the room following the visitation supervisor. Appearing to be in their fifties, he assumed they were Lindsay’s grandparents. Lin approached the couple, greeting and directing them over to Lindsay. Ethan lightly tapped Lindsay’s chest, giving her a gentle shake to try and wake her. “Lindsay, your grandparents are here, honey. Wake up and say hello,” he whispered in her ear. She began opening her eyes as the couple approached. The grandmother had a tight-lipped smile and tears in her eyes, while the grandfather had a big grin on his face. “Ethan, this is Keith and Mattie Grimes,” Lin said to introduce the couple. Ethan helped Lindsay to her feet and shook both Keith’s and Mattie's hands. “I’m so delighted to meet you. I was worried Lindsay didn’t have any other family to take her in. Even though I just met her, after spending all day with her, I can safely say that she is an amazing little girl.” “We were even more delighted to find out we had a granddaughter,” Mattie responded. She then crouched down to one knee and reached her hand out toward Lindsay. “It’s so nice to meet you, Lindsay.” Lindsay was hesitant, but she could tell how gentle Mattie was. “It’s nice to meet

you too, Grandma,” Lindsay said, shaking hands with Mattie. Allowing the new family time to bond, Ethan walked over to Camryn. He couldn’t tell if the teen was happy to see Lindsay with her grandparents, or if she was resentful of her. “I’m sorry you’ve had a tough childhood. Growing up in multiple foster homes isn’t easy, and if I could give you a normal childhood I would. I just want you to know that I check up on every child that I cross paths with. The most important advice I can give you is to be responsible. Use what you’ve learned about being independent and control your own future. Stay out of trouble." Camryn turned away from everyone and just looked down at the ground. “What the fuck do you know?” Disappointed by her attitude, but not surprised by her reaction because he had seen children react similarly before, Ethan decided not to lecture her. “More than I ever wanted to, Camryn.”

CHAPTER 11

Ethan entered the office feeling like a zombie. He was drowsier than usual because Renee had been difficult all night long. While she typically slept peacefully, the previous evening proved otherwise. She repeatedly woke up screaming, wanting to be fed and rocked. Even taking equal turns with Maria putting Renee back to sleep, he still was not allowed to sleep much longer than an hour at a time. With his primary objective being the ingestion of multiple cups of coffee, his attention was focused on the break room. On his way there, he received his first greeting of the morning from Owen. “You look like shit, bro.” Ethan was in no mood to entertain his good friend. Instead, he reached out for the coffee pot that was still half full. His eyes burned from having to force them open ever since rolling—quite literally—out of bed. His vision was blurry, but as soon as the dark-roasted coffee touched his lips, it began to rectify. Owen followed Ethan into the break room. “Kids are great, aren’t they?” “They have their moments,” Ethan said, falling into the trap of indulging him. To make matters worse, Lin walked in with disappointing news. “Hey, Ethan. Paula called in sick, so I’m going to need you to shadow Nancy today.” Ethan rolled his irritated eyes up into his skull. “Today is not a great day. Is there really no one else that can mentor?” “Well, I could put Owen with her, but you and I both know that’s a disaster waiting to happen.” “You’re always picking on me, boss,” Owen said, looking as if he was partially serious. “Feel free to go talk with Janelle, Owen. But in all seriousness, I actually need you to check on the Gomez case. You need to do a surprise house call, so call Craig and set that up this morning. For the child’s sake, it’s not good to wait

longer than a few days for a follow-up visit. Hopefully you catch that bastard with drugs in the house this time. You and I both know he’s not going to change without professional help.” “I’m on it, Lin.” Owen gave Ethan a thumb up. “You have fun today, my friend.” Finishing the last sip by holding the cup vertically above his mouth, assuring that every last drop was consumed, Ethan refilled his mug and headed back toward his desk. Nancy was already waiting for him, standing next to his cubicle. Nancy was a fit, young woman in her early twenties that could pull off the modern haircut that she had. The left side of her head was a medium bob with blonde highlights, while the right side was her natural dark brown hair shaved to a half an inch. When introduced to everyone in the office as a trainee, Nancy was quite friendly and exuded confidence in the way she handled herself around even the most inauspicious of employees—which there were several in the office that Ethan had learned to avoid associating with. After having overheard her dealing with an angry mother, Ethan recognized Nancy's commanding presence. The mother had raged through the office, shouting about how she had her child taken away. Despite the woman being aggressive in her confrontation, Nancy did not back down. Face to face, Nancy stared the woman down and explained how she was responsible for losing her child. If she wanted her daughter back, then she would have to be rehabilitated. Then, Nancy offered to help her through the whole process, just as a social worker should. Nancy was excited to start her day, acting far more jubilant than himself. “Good morning, Ethan. What are we doing first?" Ethan gave her the most enthusiastic smile he could muster, which happened to be convincing enough. “Me too, Nancy. I like your attitude. Have you been out in the field a lot with Paula? She’s one of the veterans in the office and a great mentor to learn from.” “Actually, we’ve only been out six or seven times so far. It’s heartbreaking to see what some of these children go through. I never prepared myself to deal with all the emotions that come from witnessing so many atrocities.”

“I agree. That’s the first thing you want to learn. Constructively using all those emotions to your benefit can be difficult. I use it to push myself out there,” Ethan said, pointing toward the door. “On each and every case, no matter how vague the reports may be, I dedicate all the energy I have.” Nancy nodded her head several times while he spoke as if she had heard what he had to say before. “I totally understand. Paula told me something similar. It’s just tough to get some of those images out of my head.” “Yes, it is difficult." Both Ethan and Nancy noticed Lin walking toward them with haste in her step. “Just received a phone call from PD. You guys need to get down to 115 Date Street immediately. While investigating a domestic disturbance, police found a grisly scene. A mother shot and killed her husband and one son, then turned the gun on herself. A second son survived and was found hiding in a closet.” “Oh my God,” Nancy said, holding her hand over her mouth. Ethan looked down at the ground and shook his head. “Poor little guy.” They ed us because the home is only seven miles away. Get your asses down there, quick." Ethan chugged half of the coffee he was holding, then set the mug down on his desk. “Let’s get over there, Nancy. Now's your chance to show me all those impressive techniques that Paula taught you." They both jogged outside and climbed into the agency van. Ethan stepped on the gas as the tires squealed driving out of the parking lot. He hoped that the crime scene had been cleaned up by the time they arrived, but figured that wouldn’t be the case. He wondered how well Nancy would handle seeing such a disturbing sight, especially since she had just spoken about her troubles dealing with that aspect of the job? There were ten stop lights along the route to their destination, nine of which were red. Ethan could not fathom how stop lights always knew when he was in a hurry, trying their hardest to slow him down. Three police cars, two news vans, an ambulance, and a coroner’s van were

parked out in front of the home. Yellow caution tape surrounded the perimeter, keeping back neighbors that were watching the chaos. An EMT was inspecting the lone child sitting on the rear of the ambulance. Ethan parked behind one of the police cars, then he and Nancy got out of the van. They approached the African-American child that sat quietly, wrapped in a blanket and staring off into space. Nancy gasped as she saw the coroner carrying a child’s body bag away from the bloody, front porch. Unfortunately, the bag was not empty. “What’s your name, little buddy?” Ethan said. As they both waited for a response, the boy completely ignored their presence. The child barely blinked. “His name is Michael,” the EMT said, speaking for the boy. “He’s experiencing a mild case of shock right now. He hasn’t spoken or looked anyone in the eye. Just be slow and gentle with him. I’ve seen children react many different ways when suffering from psychological trauma.” “Michael, do you need anything? We can get you whatever you need,” Nancy gently said. Still no response. Ethan couldn’t blame the poor guy since he had just witnessed his family being murdered by his own mother. He most likely couldn’t explain why it had happened. The reasoning could rarely be comprehended by a child. From their perspective, everything is normal one day, and completely illogical the next. “Sir, do you have a writing utensil handy?” an officer said. He had on latex gloves and was holding a cell phone. “The phone is evidence, but I can give you the phone number for the child’s grandmother. I know it would help you guys to Michael’s relatives. I've dealt with children and social services many times.” Nancy pulled out a pen and notepad from her purse. She stood next to the officer and wrote down the phone number. “Thank you, officer Schrader. That's very helpful.” Ethan pulled both Schrader and Nancy aside, out of earshot of Michael. “So,

what happened here this morning, officer Schrader?” “Allegedly, a neighbor claims to have overheard the mother screaming at the father over an infidelity, at which point a gunshot was heard and the father screamed in pain. The woman was then heard shouting that he would have to watch his sons die. It looks like the eldest son tried to run out of the house, but was fatally wounded on the porch. The father desperately pleaded with the woman until a minute or two later when multiple gunshots were heard.” “How on earth did Michael survive?” Nancy said. “The first officers on the scene found the seven-year-old hiding in his closet. He probably ran to hide after the initial gunshot, but we don’t know for sure because he hasn’t spoken yet.” “Thank you, officer,” Ethan said. “I’m sorry this happened. I wish things like this never had to happen.” “You and me both,” Schrader said. “Paramedic said he was good to go if you’re ready to get him out of here.” “Will do. Thank you,” Ethan said, putting his arm around Michael’s shoulder. He tried to escort the boy toward the van, but the child refused to budge. Nancy attempted to pull the boy off the back of the ambulance. “You need to come with us." Michael burst out of his catatonic state violently, punching her in the face with a closed fist and kicking her in the thigh. He broke down into tears and began screaming, “I want my daddy! Let me see him!” Ethan quickly intervened, restricting Michael’s movement by wrapping his arms around the boy’s torso. Holding him tight and pulling him close, Ethan whispered in his ear. “Calm down, son. We want to help you. I’m sorry that your family is gone, but you need to be strong.” Michael struggled to get free of Ethan’s grasp, but eventually gave up as he became exhausted. Ethan slipped a hand behind Michael’s legs and picked him up as if he was trying to rock Renee to sleep. “Are you all right, Nancy?”

She held her lip that had begun to bleed. “Yes, I’m fine. He got me good right on my mouth.” “Could you open the van door? I’ll set him down inside.” They both rushed over to the van and Nancy opened the sliding door. Ethan set Michael down on a booster seat and belted him in. The boy continued to sob, turning his face toward the seat to hide his eyes. Climbing into the enger seat, Nancy used the phone number Schrader gave her to call Michael’s grandmother. She politely delivered the terrible news and asked if they would take in Michael. Taking down the woman’s name and address, Nancy confirmed to Ethan that the grandparents would house the boy. “You can be at Child and Family Services in five hours? That’s great. Thank you, Vanessa. We look forward to meeting you.” Ethan turned around to speak to Michael. “You hear that, Michael. Your grandparents are going to take you home. But first, we’ll need to do some paperwork. Don’t worry, it sounds boring, but we have toys you can play with while you wait.” Michael didn’t respond, he was too busy continuing to quietly sob with his face buried in the seat cushion. “We’re here,” Nancy said as they pulled into the parking lot. Ethan climbed out of the van and opened the sliding door. “Would you mind walking with me this time? You're heavier than I thought." Michael finally turned to face him, eyes red and watery, wiping saliva away from his mouth with his shirt sleeve. “Yes, I’ll walk.” Surprised to hear him actually speak, Ethan reached out a hand to help Michael climb out. “You’re going to be all right, Michael. Your grandparents want you to live with them." “I want to live with Auntie,” Michael said. “Don’t worry, buddy. I promise we’ll speak with all your relatives, but for now you get to spend some time with your grandparents.”

After entering the office, Nancy checked to make sure no one was currently using the visitation room. Ethan led Michael there and introduced him to all the different toys and art supplies they had available for children to use. Once back in the hallway, Ethan turned to Nancy. “You did a good job out there. Just keep in mind that you want to be very slow and careful with children that may be in shock.” “Thanks, Ethan. I just hate having to see the shit that these kids are forced to go through. I had a great childhood, so I can’t even relate. I’ve only been here for a few weeks and I already can’t get the suffering out of my head." “I don’t think anyone doing this job should ever become desensitized to the pain and suffering of all the children we deal with. Once you do that, then you stop caring. That’s when it’s time to find a new career. At least that's how I feel about it." “What happens if you care, but you just can’t take the psychological trauma?” “I guess that’s a good time to quit, too. I don’t think that makes anyone a bad person. This job is definitely not for everyone.” Lin walked out of Janelle’s office and noticed Ethan and Stacey talking in the hallway. Janelle followed behind Lin, both women with concerned expressions once they noticed Nancy's swollen, bloody lip. “What happened to you, Nancy?” Lin said. “Michael, the child we just picked up, went ballistic when I tried to bring him to the van. Ethan had to restrain him for me,” Nancy said. “Has he been in shock? Quiet and distant? Verbally unresponsive?” Janelle asked. “Yes, that’s exactly how he’s been acting," Nancy said. “He didn’t mean to attack you. Shock can sometimes elicit a sporadic or violent reaction. Mental shock combined with strangers taking him away from his home are the causes for his lashing out.” “I know. I’m not mad at the kid. It just bothers me to see a child so traumatically

distraught. It’s not right." “I’m going to go talk with him,” Janelle said, entering the visitation room. “I guess you guys should get started on the paperwork.” Lin was a pro at being ive aggressive. “Lin, could I speak with you for a moment?” Nancy said. “Sure, come into my office. Ethan can get started with the paperwork. He’s skilled at the istrative duties of the job. He’s done this plenty of times.” Ethan walked back to his desk as the two women entered Lin’s office. Owen approached him once noticing he was alone. “Welcome back, buddy. How did it go?” “Not so good. A poor kid lost his family to a homicidal mother. He was comatose when we arrived, but flipped when Nancy was trying to put him in the van, busting her lip.” “Did she do something wrong?” “No, she did really good, actually.” Ethan leaned in close to Owen’s ear. “Have you chatted with her a lot? I figured her for a tough chick, but she keeps talking about not being able to handle the stress.” “Not really. I tend to ignore girls that shave their heads. Not that I don’t like her as a person, but it’s just a total turn off.” Ethan laughed at how ridiculous Owen’s justification was. “So, you only talk to women that you think are hot?” “Uh, yeah. That’s my general rule. Call me shallow if you want, but I’ve never been able to be friends with a woman unless they were nice to look at. And there can’t be anything about them that irritates me, either.” Ethan shook his head. “I just can’t believe you aren’t in a serious relationship.” Owen rolled his eyes. "That cuts deep."

“Get out of here. I have paperwork to do.” Nancy returned as Owen walked away. “I’m back. I’ll take some of that paperwork off your hands.” “Thank God. I despise paperwork.” Ethan handed her a packet of papers. “You can fill out the child's information packet and I’ll start the incident report. I don’t care who does what, so you can choose if you would like.” “This is fine.” As Ethan started to write the report, he kept an eye on Nancy, looking for any emotion or attitude change. She didn’t say a word about why she wanted to talk with Lin. “I don’t want to interrupt, but are you all right?” She looked up at him with a blank expression, then cracked a smile. “Yeah, of course. I’m good. Got to move on, right?” “Right,” Ethan said nodding his head. He figured she must be fine. Every social worker he had known found their own way to deal with emotions differently, and Nancy acted like she was coping well. Two weeks later, Nancy moved on from Child and Family Services. Ethan didn't blame her.

CHAPTER 12

Sheets of rain blanketed the house, sounding as if sand was continuously being thrown at the windows. The October downpour facilitated leaves to break away from the branches they grew on, sending them fluttering to the ground. Ethan opened his eyes to a gloomy light that was reminiscent of his six in the morning workdays. Squinting his unfocused eyes at the alarm clock, he realized it was actually 10:18 a.m. The faint, blue numbers on the digital clock overlapped until his eyes adjusted to the light. Sleeping in became easier on the weekends with every new week that ended. Five years being a father had ed by so quickly; seemingly faster than the long days at work that seemed to drag out. As Ethan watched Renee grow older before his eyes, he begged God to slow time down. He wanted her to stay adorable and innocent forever, but knew how impossible that was. While the daily barrage of dealing with tormented children wore him down, Ethan managed to maintain a superhero level of motivation to save as many children as possible. Just as he began to relish sleeping in on a Sunday morning, comfortable and cozy in his warm bed, Maria's hand landed on the side of his face. He endured the tingling sensation in his cheek, as he usually did when Maria's arms flailed about while sleeping. If it wasn't a slap, he had just as good a chance of experiencing blankets being pulled away, legs across his chest, or a foot to the scrotum. Despite sleeping in a king bed, he still was not safe. Maria awoke abruptly as Ethan gently bit her hand that rested on his cheek, thus resulting in a second slap responding to being startled awake. "What are you doing?" "You slapped me, so I returned the favor. Clearly, that backfired. Thanks a lot, dear." Maria climbed out of bed like a sloth climbs a tree."You know I don't like you calling me dear, especially with that tone. All I can say is that you must have had

it coming." As Maria went to the kitchen to start breakfast, Ethan took another moment to enjoy having the bed all to himself. He could easily go back to sleep under such circumstances, but then the day would be over too soon. He stared at the window as the rain lightened, resulting in fewer drops streaking down the pane in a zig zag pattern. It had been several months since he had seen rainy weather, so he treasured the sounds and smells that came with it. Ethan moseyed into the kitchen in his own fluffy robe, greeted by Renee who was just coming out of her room. "Good morning, Papi," she said while hugging his leg. "Good morning, Moo Shoo." The nickname he had given her as an infant had no context, he just liked saying moo shoo pork. Renee greeted her mother with a leg hug as well, then contently watched as Maria turned on the stove top, which typically resulted in her asking to help. "Can I drop the butter in the pan, Mom?" Maria handed her the butter knife. "Sure you can. , we need enough butter to cook three eggs." Renee dropped the butter in the pan while Maria held her over the counter. Renee's eyes lit up seeing the butter sizzle and melt into a puddle. Watching a child get so excited over such mundane things was amusing to Ethan. He only wished he could view the world with such wonder and naiveté. Renee sat down at the table next to Ethan once Maria put her down. He placed his hand out toward her with his fingers curled and thumb sticking up. She knew the gesture meant a thumb war was about to break out, so she returned his gesture by locking fingers with his. Ethan entertained Renee by pretending her thumb was stronger than it actually was. Several thumb wars took place during the time it took for Maria to cook a delicious sausage and egg breakfast, and Ethan managed to lose them all. Both stopped playing as Maria pulled orange rolls out of the oven. Being a weakness that they shared, their mouths watered in anticipation of the delicious flavors. Cinnamon rolls seemed to be everyone else's favorite, but Ethan and Renee preferred their orange rolls. The orange flavored icing was a delectable combination of sweet and tangy flavors that reminded him of Saturday mornings

as a child. Back then, he would sacrifice sleeping in to watch early morning cartoons, followed by a bigger breakfast than what he was usually treated to during the rest of the week. Ethan couldn't refrain from smiling every time Renee ate fried eggs. She got a kick out of stabbing her over-medium eggs, forcing the liquefied, yellow yolk to ooze out of the small puncture wounds caused by her fork. Renee curled her lip up and said, "Ewe, egg blood." Maria sat down to them as breakfast was complete. "I wanted to run over to the mall this morning. I need a few pairs of jeans that are on sale this weekend. Would you like to go with?" "I want to, Mom," Renee said. "Can I play in the kid's area while you shop?" "Sure, honey. If your daddy wants to go so that he can watch you?" "That's fine. But, we have to go to Best Buy afterwards. I wouldn't mind shopping there. I'll go shower first." Ethan was pleased to find little to no traffic on the roads as they headed toward the mall. On top of the tranquil city drive, which was typically unheard of in Southern California, the Oldies radio station broadcast the perfect playlist to help Ethan unwind. The morning had been peaceful and relaxing so far. He appreciated being able to clear his mind and fully enjoy a day off with his family. His appreciation faded when he discovered all the traffic was in the mall parking lot, as it was over three quarters full. He was forced to park toward the end of the parking lot. He figured it was the weather that put everyone in a shopping mood, or early fall sales leading up to Black Friday. Luckily, the rain had settled into a light drizzle because he had realized too late that they forgot to bring an umbrella. Ethan pulled his jacket over Renee's head as they jogged up to the mall entrance. Once inside, he followed Renee toward the children's play center, while Maria walked toward the department stores. "Try not to take all day, honey," Ethan said. "Just for that, I'm going to spend more money than I was planning," Maria

responded with a devious smile. Ethan sat down on a bench next to the play center. He could see how excited Renee was to play on the small playground, oblivious to the many germs covering the equipment. He had come prepared with a bottle of sanitizer in his pocket, yet he knew she would inevitably become an incubator for a virus that would be unleashed at home. He pulled his phone out and almost visited a news website. Being in such a good mood, he didn't want to ruin it, so he looked up movie reviews instead. The weather provided an atmosphere conducive to indoor activities, so he figured it would be a good idea to see a movie with the family after shopping. The mall felt a little brisk, so the image of warm popcorn enticed him. Ethan looked up from his phone to keep an eye on Renee, noticing that she had met a little girl a few years older than herself. They were most likely introducing themselves to one another. The girls talked for a few minutes and everything seemed normal until the girl leaned over to whisper in Renee's ear. He became suspicious as the girl grabbed Renee's hand and tried to lead her away. Knowing that he had taught Renee to be weary of strangers, he realized that children were much less threatening than adults. Renee was also taught to never walk away from her parents. Ethan stood up and began walking toward the girls to prevent them from leaving. Renee broke away from the older girl as they neared the automated sliding doors, hastily turning around and walking toward him. The older girl continued to walk toward the exit without looking back. "Dad, that girl wants to show me something cool. But, she says it's outside." Ethan placed his hands on her shoulders. "You did great, honey. Just like we talked about. Let's go find your mother." Taking her hand, Ethan ran with her toward the department stores. He spotted Maria wading through pants on a sale rack, near the entrance to one of the outlet stores. "Maria!" His loud and urgent voice caught her attention. "What? What's wrong, Ethan?"

"I need you to take Renee. You'll have to take a taxi home or call someone to pick you up. A little girl just tried to lure Renee outside and I need to follow her. I'll be back soon. I love you." Maria, confused and alarmed, held Renee tight in her arms. "Be careful!" she shouted as Ethan ran for the exit. The rain had picked up again, coming down hard enough to drench Ethan's hair in roughly ten seconds. He frantically looked around the parking lot for any sign of the young girl. He thought that he had lost her for a moment, but sighted her in the back seat of a blue Camry as it drove away from him. An obese man was behind the wheel. Ethan dashed toward the Escape and started the vehicle as fast as he could. Pushing his foot down on the pedal before checking his surroundings, he almost collided into a car that drove past. "Fuck! Come on!" God must have been looking out for the child, because the Camry was stopped at a light to exit the mall's parking lot. Ethan kept about four car length's distance from the Camry, practicing tailing techniques he had seen in crime dramas. Keeping a low profile and maintaining eyes on the vehicle was more difficult than how it’s portrayed on screen. The speeds of the traffic separating him from the Camry were inconsistent, causing him to maneuver around obstacles that made his Escape more conspicuous. With the help of God's will, he was able to track the suspect sixteen miles away from the mall to a house. The Camry entered a garage located in an average neighborhood of typical, middle-class homes that you would find scattered throughout the Los Angeles area. The yard hadn't been mowed in a few days, but the house's appearance was in better shape than some of the other homes along the street that had trash littered yards and facades that were falling apart. Ethan sat in his car, considering whether he should call the police. Not knowing how long it would take for them to arrive or what the outcome might be, he decided against it. Instead, he wanted to see what the situation was for himself. He came up with a plan, hoping that it would be reason enough to get him inside the house. After parking further down the street to keep his car out of sight, he slowly

walked toward the house. He wanted to be soaked by the rain when the door was answered, appearing as if he had walked from down the street. Ethan stood before the front door, the sound of voices inside audible, but muffled like they were coming from a television. He raised his fist, knocking three times on the wooden door. There was no response, so he knocked again, this time using the side of his fist instead of his knuckles. The pounding was thunderous, causing the wood to creak. He listened closely for the sound of a child. The background noise of the television was broken by a door being shut inside the home. Ethan prepared himself to deliver an Oscar worthy performance as footsteps approached the door. Once the door opened, an overweight man with shaggy hair—nearly qualifying as a mullet—stood before Ethan. "Can I help you, mister?" "I was hoping I could come in and use your phone? I got a flat tire down the road and I don't have either a spare or my cell phone." Ethan stood before him trying to look as pathetic as possible, dripping on the porch while the man looked him over. "Down the road? Was no one else home?" Ethan smiled while his brain scrambled to produce a legitimate excuse. "In all honesty, your home was the most inviting. I don't mean to be rude, but some of the other homes on this street look pretty trashy." The menacing man stood silently for a moment, then smiled. "Some people just let their houses go to shit. Come on in out of the rain. My name is Thomas." Ethan was quite surprised that the man was so polite. "Thank you so much. My name is Ethan," he said, stepping inside. He may have been fooled by Thomas's demeanor if he didn't watch the man drive off with a young girl who had been used as bait, but there was no sign of the child. Thomas resembled the perfect pedophile stereotype. He had disproportional facial features that gave him an unpleasant appearance. Not someone you would want to come across in a dark alleyway. Both of his eyes were sunken in and dark as if he barely slept. He had a big nose, but small mouth, while his jaw

appeared wider than the width of his cheek bones. His clothes were sloppy and most likely hadn’t been washed in a few days. Food stains were visible on his white t-shirt and blue sweat pants. Ethan couldn't believe that someone would leave their house while looking so disgusting. “All right, Ethan, you can use the phone over in the kitchen.” Thomas shadowed Ethan as he walked into the kitchen. A land line phone was attached to the wall in the kitchen—ten-foot-long spiraled cord included. What was once a household item, was now an antique in a wireless and pocket sized world. Ethan picked up the phone and pulled his insurance card out of his wallet, dialing the number printed on it. Before the automatic answering system picked up, he pretended it already had. "Speak to a representative." Ethan rolled his eyes at Thomas, who carefully watched him make the phone call. "The voice on this machine is so annoying." Thomas glanced down the hallway to his right every few seconds, unknowingly giving away the location of his dark secret. The recording began asking questions, so Ethan continued his imaginary conversation. "My car got a flat tire on, uh. . ." Ethan covered the phone's microphone with his hand. "What street is out in front?" "Wilson street." "My silver Escape is on 1250 Wilson St. I'll be present with the vehicle. Uh huh. Okay. See you in thirty minutes then." Ethan hung up the phone. "Hey, Thomas. Would you mind if I use your bathroom before I go? I don't think I'll be able to hold it for another hour before I get home." “Yeah, that’s fine. When you got to go, right?” Thomas smiled and Ethan entertained him with a smile of his own. “It's the second door on your right, just down the hall. Sorry about the mess there, but I was rearranging rooms. Would you like some coffee? I was just about to brew some. Nice weather for it.” “That would be great, Thomas. Thank you.”

Thomas was referring to furniture that cluttered the hallway. A king sized bed mattress had been propped up against a door on the left side of the hallway, just across from the bathroom. Until Ethan entered the bathroom, Thomas watched him closely. Ethan shut the bathroom door, waiting a few seconds to ensure that Thomas would be distracted with making coffee. Once he heard footsteps fading away, he opened the bathroom door and peaked around the corner. The coast was clear, so he slowly and quietly pushed the mattress away from the door that it was obstructing. He could still hear Thomas in the kitchen preparing coffee. As he placed his ear against the door, hearing no sign of the young girl troubled him. Slowly turning the handle, he pulled the door open, attempting to minimize any creaking from the hinges. The noise was minimal, so he stepped through the doorway and down a cement staircase. Darkness surrounded him other than the faint glow of fluorescent light travelling from the vaguely lit room at the bottom. When Ethan reached the last step, he became horrified to his core. In the ten-by-ten-foot cellar sat a four-foot-long, wooden, homemade, childsized coffin. Affixed to the lid was a padlock for imprisoning a child. Next to the box were two steel tables. One table was small and contained several objects, while the other table was four feet long with leather straps for a child's arms and legs to be restrained. The room appeared to be sound proof, evidenced by the foam squares that covered all the walls. Ethan walked over to the small, steel table. A brand new set of butcher knives had been laid out next to a laptop that was partially folded closed. He slowly lifted the screen, glimpsing the sickening images that were displayed on the screen for only a moment before turning away and becoming queasy. He closed the laptop without looking again. Multiple images were open on the screen depicting children performing sexual acts on adults. They were all most likely between the ages of five and twelve, consisting of young boys and girls. One of them was the little girl he had seen at the mall. On the other side of the table were a few empty bottles of cough syrup, and probably the most unimaginable object he could imagine finding in a child prison—a bag of castration rings, typically used when castrating cattle.

Finding that the wooden box was locked, he feared for the condition of the child inside. Anger overcame him as his blood boiled with rage while imagining how terrified a child would be when placed inside a dark, claustrophobic, wooden box. A child snatched away from their family and brought to a cold, dank cellar by a monstrous stranger. No explanation or imaginable reason why they were chosen. Innocently ignorant of the fate that lay before them. Of all the abusive and degenerate people that Ethan had met, no man had he wanted to make suffer more than Thomas. Before Ethan could attempt to break the lock, the thought occurred to him that Thomas may have realized that he was not in the bathroom. He figured Thomas would likely have a weapon when coming down the basement stairs to find him. Ethan grabbed a knife from the table and stood against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Thomas to make his way down. As soon as his back was against the wall, Thomas’s protuberant body stood in the doorway at the top of the stairs. His torso blocked the light from the hallway, producing a bulbous shadow on the cellar floor. Ethan gripped the knife tightly with his sweaty palm. Adrenaline flowed through him—not just from fear, but also from the anticipation of the violent act he was about to commit. Thomas moved as fast as he could down the stairs, amounting to a brisk walk for even a modestly energetic individual. Just as he had imagined, Thomas carried a blunt object in his hand based upon the shadow it produced. Subliminally, Ethan had not yet called the police because he wanted to deal with Thomas properly. Thomas was a man that lured children away from their loved ones and into his captivity. Aside from sexual abuse, he wanted to torture them as well. He was a monster that had no place in the world. Ethan was ready to dispatch Thomas without a second thought, other than preferring to do it in an excruciatingly painful manner. As Thomas’s feet touched the cellar floor, Ethan reached out with his knife, thrusting it into the left side of Thomas’s gut. He pushed hard, throwing all his body weight behind the blade, making sure he could pierce through the skin and numerous layers of flab he needed to.

Screams of agony filled the cellar. His screams were proof that the searing pain caused by the knife slicing through his stomach could be felt. Ethan had pushed Thomas's back against the wall. Unable to tolerate the excruciating pain, his legs gave out beneath him. As the force of his threehundred-pound body dropped to the floor, Ethan backed away while tugging on the knife with both hands. The blade slid out gently compared to how violently it was inserted. His back sliding down the wall, Thomas fell to a seated position. He let go of the aluminum baseball bat that was destined to crush Ethan's skull so that he could put pressure on his wound with both hands, staring down at the bloody mess in shock. Blood streamed out of the wound at a consistent rate, pooling in his lap. Ethan sensed that Thomas was no longer a threat. With the blood-caked knife in hand, he ran to the coffin and pointed the knife at Thomas’s face in as threatening a manner as he could. “Where is the fucking key, you sick son of a bitch?” Thomas bled on the cold, cement floor, sobbing and moaning about how painful it was. He reached into his pocket slowly, carefully restricting his movement to avoid exacerbating the pain. Thomas threw a bloody set of keys at Ethan's feet, groaning in agony. It took him a few seconds to find the specific key for the padlock, but eventually unlocked the coffin and lifted the lid. Inside lay a seven or eight-year-old, unconscious boy, stripped down to his cartoon printed briefs. Ethan placed his index and middle fingers on the child's neck to check for a pulse. He held his breath until noticing a faint pulse thumping beneath his fingertips. Ethan turned his attention back to Thomas. "Where is the girl? The girl that you used as bait to try and lure my daughter with?" Thomas didn't respond. He only stared at his gaping wound, oblivious to Ethan's presence. Ethan unlocked the handcuffs and lifted the little boy out of the wooden box, carrying him upstairs. He laid the child down on the couch, covering him with a

throw blanket found draped over the furniture. There was no sign of physical abuse, and he correlated the child being unconscious to the empty bottles of cough medicine he had found in the basement. While deciding what he would do next, Thomas's strange DVD collection caught his eye. There were several cannibal exploitation films that made up his collection. Films that were produced in the seventies and eighties as part of the Italian horror boom. He also owned better known classic thrillers like Silence of the Lambs. In any other home, he would just assume the owner a fan of cannibal horror films. But in this house, the collection represented further proof that Thomas was mentally deranged. Ethan called emergency services from his cell phone while running outside to move his car closer to the house. A pleasant-sounding woman answered his call. “What is your emergency?” “My name is Ethan Harper, and I’m a social worker with Child and Family Services. I followed a man home from the mall because he tried to lure my daughter away using another child. I'm at 1458 Empire Street and I'm approaching the front door now. I fear that the child may be in danger, so I'm going to try and stall him until the police arrive.” "Sir, for your own safety, I suggest that you wait for officers to arrive." Ethan was amused that the dispatcher feared for his safety. "For the sake of the child, I just can’t wait. The guy probably won't even let me in, but at least I can stall him." He ended the call before she could reply. He estimated he had maybe ten to fifteen minutes before the police arrived, based on how far the police station was. Maybe sooner if a patrol car was nearby. He parked his car in front of the house of horrors, then quickly ran back inside. He left the unconscious child resting on the couch and walked back down into the cellar. Thomas was still in the same spot on the floor where he had left him, whimpering profusely. He felt no sympathy for such a disgusting human being.

Ethan crouched down on one knee to talk to Thomas. He slapped Thomas’s fleshy cheek so hard that a stinging sensation rippled through his palm. “Pick your head up and look at me when I’m talking to you, fat ass.” Thomas lifted his head up and looked into Ethan’s eyes. His lips were pale and blood had not stopped draining from his gut. "Where is the little girl? You tell me right now, or I'm going to use those rings on you! Do you understand me?" Thomas pointed toward the staircase. Confused, Ethan stepped closer to it and noticed a door to the space beneath the staircase. He quickly turned the door knob and opened it. The young girl sat on a dirty mattress in the pitch-black space, raising her chained wrists up to cover her eyes from the small amount of the light that beamed inside. In the corner was an empty plate and a pair of bloody panties. Without hesitation, he unlocked her restraints. "It's going to be all right, sweetie. I'm here to help. Please come with me." While hesitant for a moment, the girl realized that he was her savior. She grabbed his hand and followed him upstairs with her face buried in his shirt. He wanted to make sure that the child’s eyes didn’t witness the carnage. He sat her down on the couch next to the boy and explained the situation to her. "The police are on their way. You two children are going to be okay. Just wait right here while I go back down and keep an eye on Thomas. He's hurt pretty bad. What's your name, dear?" "It's Kathy." "Okay, Kathy. Please stay here with the boy and wait for the police to arrive." Before he could walk away, the girl grabbed his wrist. "Sir, I'm so sorry I asked Dillon to follow me. I didn't want to do it, but Thomas forced me to. It's all my fault." The poor girl felt guilty for the crime that Thomas had forced her to commit. She began to cry and squeezed Dillon's hand.

"It's not your fault at all, honey. You had no choice. This is all Thomas's fault. You and Dillon are going to be all right. I promise," he said, holding her face in his hands. Ethan kissed the top of her head and hurried back downstairs as the police sirens became audible. Standing over Thomas—a pathetic blob of a man sitting in a pool of his own blood—Ethan kicked the knife wound. “What the fuck have you done, and what were you planning on doing to those children?” Ethan repeated himself, demanding an answer and screaming at Thomas. Thomas only stared back at him while breathing heavily, refusing to respond. Maintaining an expressionless glare, Ethan abruptly lunged toward him, swiping Thomas’s hands away from his wound. As Ethan jammed his thumb into the gaping knife wound, he wiggled it around in Thomas’s gut as vigorously as he could. Thomas, weak from the amount of blood he had lost, tried desperately to push Ethan away, but could only squeeze Ethan’s arm tightly as he endured the pain. Ethan couldn't hold back a smile as Thomas let out a blood curdling scream. He was able to savor the moment without fear that someone might hear the earpiercing screams because of how sound proof the room was. The irony was not lost on him. As Ethan pulled his hand away from Thomas’s gut, the stagnant air in the basement cooled off the warm blood that soaked his hand. He patiently wiped it clean using Thomas’s shirt. “Hopefully, now you understand that I'm not talking to myself when I ask you a question. So. . .” “All right,” Thomas pleaded, “please just don’t touch me anymore.” “You're making that very difficult. Now tell me, in vivid detail, what you've done to them?” “Look, I didn’t kidnap that girl, and all I did was make her feel good. I could tell she liked it. I wasn’t really going to do anything else. I was about to let her go.” Ethan clenched his fist tight as Thomas’s response caused his blood pressure to rise. Looking for a release, he punched Thomas’s wound several times. Blood

spatter painted Ethan’s shirt each time his fist made with the seeping wound. As Ethan spoke while punching Thomas, he had to inhale between words that coincided with the drawing back of his fist. “Stop. . .the. . .bullshit. Tell. . .me. . .the. . .truth!” After channeling all his anger and exhausting every last ounce of energy, Ethan sat down to catch his breath. He didn’t bother to wipe his fist clean this time, hopefully conveying to Thomas that he wasn’t finished yet. “Okay. Please stop. I just had sex with the girl while she was strapped to the table." Although he wasn’t prepared for the answers, Ethan needed to know more. “What then? What’s all this other shit for?” “Well, I was going to kill her and cut her up. I wanted to cut her up and eat her.” Thomas’s DVD collection now became an important piece of evidence. He had feared that the films were inspirational. “Why on earth would you want to do that? What the hell is wrong with you? What did this innocent, young child—or any human being for that matter—do to deserve that?” Ethan’s rage reached dangerous levels as he pictured what could have happened to the children. The unimaginable things that only the most disturbed of human beings could fathom. He tried to put himself in the child’s position, imagining how afraid they must have been, being held captive in a tiny coffin and dark basement. Thomas stared at Ethan with a terrified expression on his face, not knowing what Ethan would do next. “Can you please call me an ambulance?” he muttered. Ethan snarled at Thomas in response to such a stupid question. “Oh, I didn't call you an ambulance. They’re sending a coroner. You see. . .I would love to keep you here and torture you throughout the night if I could, but I have to make this look like a swift act of self-defense. You attacked me, and during the scuffle I was able to stab you with one of your tools. However, you continued to attack me until I beat you over the head to death with a, uh. . .” Ethan noticed Thomas’s eyes glance at the bat he had dropped, so he picked up the bat and smiled appreciatively. “With a bat that I just happened to wrestle

away from you." Thomas began to plead for his life. "Please, Mr. Please don't do this. I decided I wasn't going to kill them after all. I was gonna let the kids go when I was done with them. I swear!" "What the fuck were the castration rings for?" Knowing that hearing the answer wouldn't change anything, he raised the bat behind his head and swung with all his might, just as Thomas began to speak. Once the bat struck the side of Thomas's head, his body collapsed. Ethan was not fazed by the cracking sound of Thomas's skull that had interrupted the useless explanation he was about to give. His body was motionless for a moment until regaining consciousness, still able to turn his head and look up at Ethan. "Please. . .God. . .don't do this." Ethan raised the bat up again. "How dare you ask for God's help." The police pounded on the door, demanding to be let inside. In the amount of time it took them to enter the basement after Kathy let them inside, Ethan had caved in Thomas's head with the bat. Breathing heavily, he sat and stared at the body of Thomas that was now unrecognizable. Pieces of skull protruded from what used to be the top of his head, and his upper torso was covered in the blood that used to be housed inside his skull. Ethan was disgusted with what he had done, however, he felt no remorse. He stood by his actions as benefitting mankind, but the gore was unexpectedly disturbing. Nausea overwhelmed him as an officer helped him to his feet, placing handcuffs on his wrists. Vomit rose from his stomach so fast that he had no time to control it, leaning over and puking on the officer's shoes rather than himself. "Son of a bitch," the officer said. "You could have leaned to the other side, man." After having vomited everything that was not digested in his stomach, Ethan took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The sirens were deafening as the officer escorted him outside. Dillon was being lifted into the ambulance on a stretcher, and Kathy sat in a police car with a blanket wrapped around her.

While the police questioned him about what had happened, Ethan explained his version of the scenario, once again appearing as a case of self-defense. As he gave his statement to the officers, he was actually thinking about how Dillon was still oblivious to what had happened. The last thing the boy ed was being placed in the small coffin. Ethan just hoped that by the time he awakened, his parents would be standing over him, providing the comfort of being safe in their loving arms.

CHAPTER 13

Steel bumpers came within inches of one another as Los Angeles traffic came to a standstill. Inching along the highway every couple of minutes irritated Roger, as it did to everyone in the vehicles around him. Having lived in LA for a year, he had still not gotten used to wasting hours of his day sitting in traffic, and on a Sunday afternoon no less. Looking out the enger side window, his view of the towers in the downtown area was less obscured by smog than usual due to the morning rain. With the windows down in an attempt to enjoy the fresh air, he had to smell the dark exhaust that emanated from the tail pipe of a semi-truck in front of him. Roger had just left Carter Elementary School where he had prepared the lesson for Monday's computer skills class. In his years as a substitute teacher, he had made a habit of preparing the classroom to his liking the day before. As a teacher, he was always very thorough, but his priority wasn't really sharing valuable knowledge with the children. He became a teacher to constantly be surrounded by young girls, and no job was more perfect for that reason. Aside from how irritating the children could be, he looked forward to seeing the few adorable and friendly girls in class. He made sure to pay special attention to those students, taking advantage of every chance to place his hands on their shoulders while pretending to be their best friend. He decided to prioritize dropping in on his internet acquaintance, Thomas, before going home to indulge in child pornography. Roger had met him online in one of the many message boards catering to pedophiles and the like. They exchanged obscene media for a few weeks before Thomas trusted him enough to ask for advice. The advice—which Roger willingly gave him—was guidance on kidnapping children. They came to an agreement that Roger would receive copies of all the media Thomas planned to produce, and that Roger could participate at any time. He decided it was a perfect opportunity as Thomas had been very specific about his plans to never release the children he would snatch, so there was no concern of a

child talking to authorities. That meant they would both have unlimited access to children, able to completely realize their sick fantasies. Roger had not actually kidnapped a child before, but had learned how to effectively get away with such a crime over the years. He rather enjoyed the manipulation and coercion method, considering his technique much safer than blatantly kidnapping a child. It was much more difficult to hide a human being indefinitely, than eventually having to dispose of their body when necessary. The thrill of the hunt excited and aroused Roger more. While the means to the end was sexual gratification with a child, he considered the foreplay being when he courted a lonely, single woman and earned the trust of her child. When the time was right, and he could no longer restrain his urges any longer, he would pounce. His victim would know how dire the consequences were if she were to tell any living soul, so the child would keep his dirty secret, never itting why she was ashamed of herself and afraid of men for the rest of her life. Months had ed since Roger's last relationship and his appetite for young flesh had not been satiated in just over a year. There was no way to hide how excited he was about his new venture with Thomas, deciding to witness the progress first hand after fantasizing about it for twenty minutes while parked in the middle of the highway. After fifteen further minutes of stop and go traffic, Roger was able to exit the freeway and make his way toward Thomas's home. As he turned the corner onto Thomas's street, he spotted several police cars, an ambulance, and a local news crew that surrounded the house. His heart skipped a beat as he learned that Thomas had been discovered. Without hesitation, he turned down the next street to avoid ing the crime scene. Roger felt no fear or paranoia. He knew that his tracks were covered. Any time he dealt in child pornography or communicated with fellow enthusiasts, his digital footprint was well hidden. He had been taught how to cover his tracks by colleagues in the darkest recesses of the internet. At most, investigators may find communications he had with Thomas, but nothing more. Disappointment set in quickly. He was especially disappointed with Thomas for having ruined a good thing. He had so many aspirations about the arrangement the two had made, yet, knew deep down that it wouldn't work out. Thomas was

an amateur who was still honing his craft and who clearly took too many risks. Roger blamed himself for taking a chance on Thomas, but praised his own intellect for masterminding such a risk-averse role in the experiment. Once home, Roger turned on the news to discover Thomas's fate. He wondered how Thomas could even get caught? Thomas had kidnapped the girl just as he had suggested. Maybe the basement wasn't soundproofed properly? Could the girl have escaped somehow? Could someone have seen or heard the girl? Regardless of how he got caught, one thing was for sure; The plan was solid, so the amateur must have made a detrimental mistake. Roger needed to know in order to advise others not to make the same mistake. A cork screw penetrated the cork of a Pinot Grigio bottle as Roger twisted the handle. Being a dry cork, it crumbled into pieces when attempting to pull it out. Tiny bits of cork fell into the wine as a result. He hadn't noticed because his eyes were glued to the television. Social worker Ethan Harper was being interviewed. He claimed to have followed a man home that had tried to lure his five-year-old daughter away from the mall. Using his credentials, the man invited him inside the home where he stumbled upon two kidnapping victims. Ethan said that he had fatally wounded the man in self-defense. Roger chugged his first glass of wine, then immediately poured another. He was shocked at the turn of events as their plan had not played out like he imagined. He also found it strange that a social worker was willing to take such a large risk, rather than waiting for the police to arrive once he followed Thomas home. Once the news cut to commercials, Roger opened his laptop and placed it on the coffee table in front of the couch. His body fell relaxed as he sat down with wine glass in hand. A blinking message on the taskbar caught his eye. It was a message from Saint Nicholas. Saint Nicholas was the moniker used by the most secretive child pornographer alive, and the most respected by his peers. He was a legend among pedophiles and even a myth to those that had never interacted with him. Roger had chatted with him on many occasions, sharing all his own dark secrets and accomplishments, while learning nothing about Nicholas.

Roger rarely filmed or photographed any of his own conquests as it was an unnecessary risk. He had only done so with two children, and been very careful to sanitize the filming location of any indentifying features. He traded the images and videos only when desperately wanting exclusive material from others. Nicholas on the other hand, had a plethora of personal media. The man provided probably one fifth of the child porn currently circulating around the internet. Nicholas would often brag about being in the perfect position to provide endless content for the pedophilia community. Saint Nicholas gave his condolences to Roger in the message. He claimed to be disappointed in the capture of a promising and motivated mutual friend. He then suggested that Roger visit the hospital to confirm Thomas's condition. He noted that if Roger had told Thomas any personal information, the only way to avoid arrest was to insure Thomas was a corpse. Did Thomas speak with Nicholas? Roger was surprised that Nicholas knew he was connected to Thomas. He had not personally told Nicholas about their endeavor. As strange as it seemed, he was still honored that Nicholas had personally ed him. Police were not providing any information to the public, so the abductor and his victims had not yet been identified. Roger had not divulged any personal information to Thomas, so he was confident that his identity would be safe. Roger convinced himself that there was absolutely no way he could be connected to the crime. After taking a sip of wine, Roger opened a folder of pictures on his computer. He enlarged a picture of himself standing with Kathy and her mother in a park, followed by a picture of Kathy and her mother on the beach wearing bikinis. While staring at the picture, a memory of how horny and tempted he had felt watching them jump through the waves began to arouse him. Roger began to make himself more comfortable by unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. His obsession with the adorable young girl only grew, knowing that he had come so close to taking her innocence, but was unfortunately unable to make his fantasy a reality. He had not known failure when pursuing a child to violate, so it enraged him to be prevented from doing so. He decided the best way to

channel his rage was through masturbation. Focusing on Kathy's nubile body in the picture, Roger reached down to touch himself, but was interrupted by a new message alert that popped up on his computer screen, obscuring the photo of Kathy. Irritated, he opened the message since frustration erased any desire to pleasure himself. To his fortune, it was a message from Hannah. "Are you in the mood? I could use the money. Bills to pay and all," it read. Roger's whole body warmed up with excitement. "You could not have ed me at a more appropriate time. Just tell me when?" he quickly typed. A message came back asking, "How about on your lunch hour tomorrow?" "Sounds great. Count me in," he typed. "She'll be ready for you." Hannah didn't often sell her daughter unless she was really hurting for cash. Hannah typically surrounded herself with several men, all willing to provide their hard-earned money for her services as a lecherous girlfriend. When she couldn't find a man, she knew Roger would be waiting for her to him, and he'd pay good money to take advantage of her daughter. The anticipation was nearly unbearable, but it also put him back in the mood. He was relieved to know that the dry spell was about to end. The previous fifteen months had been one of the longest droughts that Roger had experienced. Staring at Kathy's picture again, he gulped the last few sips left in his wine glass, then rose from the couch to grab a bottle of lotion and a towel.

CHAPTER 14

Every time Ethan entered a hospital, he asked himself why hospitals had to be so aesthetically unpleasing? As if the smell in the hallways wasn't bad enough, the plain white walls were decorated with uninspired and boring paintings. The decor evoked depression. Patients would appreciate livelier colors and images when surrounded by sickness. Fortunately, the children's wing had the right idea. Ethan appreciated that he often spent most of his time there when visiting the hospital. His walk to the children's wing transformed from the boring hallways of the main hospital, into the colorful and cartoon themed children's ward. The change was uplifting, and if ever visiting the hospital as a patient, he would prefer to be itted into the children's ward. Despite the positive atmosphere, a melancholy mood could not be escaped due to the sick children that inhabited each room. Ethan walked up to the nurse's desk and smiled at the young lady who sat typing at her computer. "Good evening, Miss. Could I see Kathy and Dillon? I'm the social worker that helped them today," he said, trying to be modest. She looked up from her computer screen and smiled. "Mr. Harper. It's so nice to meet you. I'm so thankful that you saved those children. It's just horrible what they went through." "It is terrible. It could have been a lot worse if I hadn't gotten them out of there when I did." "You are quite a hero." Ethan began to blush. He wasn't used to receiving such appreciation for doing his job, at least not on a regular basis. Many of his cases were atrocious, but this particular event was high profile and received national news coverage. To Ethan, every case was just as important. "Really, it's my job to save children. I take it seriously, but there are a ton of social workers out there like me, saving children daily." "Well, just know that you're all over the news. You're going to be considered a

hero by many people. Especially those children and their parents," the nurse said. "The children are down the hall in rooms three and four." "Thank you very much," Ethan said, smiling back at her with rosy cheeks. Ethan walked down the corridor to room three, still flattered by being acknowledged as a hero. He felt like one for saving the children, but would people still consider him one if they knew that he had deliberately murdered Thomas? It didn't really matter to him personally, because he had come to believe that any person abusing children didn't deserve to live. Thomas would have gone to jail for rape, kidnapping, and child pornography, but would he be put away forever? Prisoners of all offenses were seeing early parole due to overcrowding and under funding. What then? Who would be his next victim? Ethan slowly opened the door to room three and poked his head inside. Dillon sat awake in his hospital bed while his parents and older sister surrounded him. Seven hours had ed since Dillon was rescued, and there were already around twenty presents and several flower bouquets scattered around the room. Ethan awkwardly smiled. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to check on Dillon and make sure he is okay." Before he could quietly sneak away, Dillon's father stood up and opened the door, reaching his hand out to shake Ethan's. "Mr. Harper. Thank you so much. If it wasn't for you, well, we can't even imagine what would have happened to him. He disappeared two days ago, and we've been terrified for him ever since. I've barely slept, and I can tell you that I wouldn't wish anything like this on my worst enemies. Not knowing where he was or if we'd ever see him again. . ." Dillon's father choked up. It’s hard to imagine how painful the mentality of a parent with a missing child is. It would take time for him to get over those emotions, but he would surely never forget them. Ethan acknowledged that the defeated father standing before him could be himself if anything happened to Renee. The pain he felt just imagining such a thing could not compare to the actuality of it. He silently prayed to God that he would never have to experience such a thing.

"Finding out that Dillon is safe and sound after thinking we may never see him again. . .it's just such—" The father's eyes began to flood with tears as Ethan placed his hand on the man's shoulder. Ethan could feel his own eyes begin producing tears and his vision started to blur. "Say no more, sir. As a father myself, I completely understand. There's no doubt that this has been a traumatic experience for everyone involved. Luckily, we can safely move on from here. He's safe and back with you. No need to revisit that dark time." The mother gave Ethan a big hug, tears streaming down her cheeks as well. Dillon's sister was holding back tears and just nodded at Ethan, quietly acknowledging her appreciation to him. Finally, he turned to Dillon and ran his hand through the boy's hair, shuffling it around. "You look much better than the last time I saw you, buddy." Dillon stood up on the bed and wrapped his arms around Ethan's waist. "Thank you for saving me, Ethan. I missed my family so much. I'm very happy now." The gratitude of Dillon's family humbled him, causing his face to glow and heat up in a way that he was sure everyone in the room could feel the heat emitting from his head. He shook Dillon's hand. "You're one tough little guy, Dillon. And it looks like you have some presents to open. We're not the only ones proud of you, buddy." Ethan made his way back to the door and waved to everyone. "You all enjoy your evening. I'm sure I'll be seeing you again." After shutting the door and approaching room four, Ethan had to mentally prepare himself to visit Kathy. The young girl had been abused both physically and mentally by Thomas for a longer period of time than Dillon. On top of those emotions was the guilt of being used as bait to lure in other children. He slowly opened the door to room four, the same way he did entering room three. Kathy's room was also littered with gifts and flowers. Kathy's mother sat next to her bed, holding hands with her daughter. An elderly couple that were most likely her grandparents sat on the other side. The mother turned to see who opened the door. "Mr. Harper?" she asked.

"Yes, I just came by to see how Kathy is doing." The woman got up and began walking toward him. Her straight, dark hair was frazzled, and her swollen, red eyes with dark bags underneath portrayed how difficult the whole situation must have been for her. The distraught woman squeezed him tightly, refusing to let go. He squeezed her petite body in return. "We owe everything to you," she whispered in his ear. Finally releasing her grip, Ethan followed her back to Kathy's bed. "What's your name, ma'am?" "I'm Sarah, Kathy's mother." "It's nice to meet you." Ethan said, turning to face Kathy. "And how are you doing, Kathy? Are you doing better?" Kathy looked at Ethan and forced a smile. "Yeah. I'm all right. It's nice to see my mom again." "I'm sure it is. I just wanted to remind you that not one thing that happened with Thomas was your fault, honey. Thomas was a sick and disturbed man that forced you to do what he wanted. You are not responsible in any way." "Tell that to Dillon's parents. They're basically blaming her for his kidnapping," Sarah said. Everyone's eyes were focused on Ethan, waiting for a response that would put them at ease. "Everyone is emotional right now. They will realize that Kathy was fearful for her life and had been subjected to abuse by Thomas. Just give them some time to cope with their emotions. No one will blame Kathy. " The expressions of everyone in the room developed faint smiles, but they were smiling none the less. Heads nodded in acceptance of Ethan's statement. Kathy grabbed Ethan's hand and looked up at him with tearful eyes. "You saved my life, Ethan. I'll never forget what you did. I thought I was going to die and never see my family again. He showed me his knives and told me how good I would taste. I was so scared." Kathy trembled. Kneeling, Ethan bent over to whisper in Kathy's ear. "Don't be scared anymore.

Thomas is dead and can't ever hurt you again." Before he could back away, her arms wrapped around his neck and she whispered back. "Thank you." Nothing was more rewarding than hearing a child's appreciation directly. Ethan shook the grandparents' hands and walked back to the door to leave. "Let me know if you guys need anything. You hang in there, Kathy." Sarah stopped Ethan as he reached for the door knob. She handed him a sealed envelope that had a stamp on it, prepared to be mailed. "Here, this is a thank you letter that we were going to send you. We appreciate how considerate you are, coming here to check on her in person." Ethan nodded and squeezed her shoulder, then left the room before breaking out in tears. After shutting the door, Ethan tipped his head back against it and exhaled. Saving children that were considered lost to the people that loved them most was the reason he became a social worker. When a child goes missing, a parent can't help but imagine the worst, but there is always hope that their child is alive. For these parents, he was able to make that hope a reality. He had not felt anything more gratifying than bringing families back together—aside from ending the destructive existence that was Thomas's life. "Mr. Harper. Can I have a moment of your time?" asked a voice that echoed down the long hallway. Ethan observed a man approaching him who wore a dark gray suit. He wasn’t especially menacing, being a few inches shorter than six feet, and his appearance was more pudgy than burly. He looked to be in his late forties and was partially balding. His forehead and top of the scalp was smooth, while the hair he did have on the sides and back of his head were salt and peppered. Ethan reached out his hand. "And you are?" Accepting his greeting, the man shook his hand. "I'm federal agent Chase Ramsey. I head the FBI's California Child Exploitation Task Force, and we work closely with the Crimes Against Children International Task Force. I just wanted to ask you a few questions." "I gave my statement to a few different officers earlier today. I have no problem

repeating myself again, but I would appreciate if you wouldn't mind answering a few questions that I had?" "I'll answer what I can. But first, I just wanted a little clarification." Chase looked down at the notepad he was holding. "You said that you left the mall and followed Thomas to his home, taking you roughly fifteen minutes to travel the sixteen miles to reach the residence. When you arrived at the residence, you, 'Knocked on the front door and told Thomas that a neighbor had reported hearing a child scream.' Did he question you about that statement? Maybe, ask for details about when the report came in?" Ethan pointed to the chairs at the end of the hall in the waiting area. "Would you mind if we sit down?" Chase raised his hand and waved toward the chairs to signify that Ethan could lead the way, then followed him and they both sat down. Folding his hands in his lap, Ethan proceeded to answer Chase's question. He focused on keeping the details of his story consistent, while adding new ones based on Chase's questioning. "Thomas did ask about the complaint. I told him it was reported earlier in the morning, but that I didn't know the specific time. I explained to him that I was asked to take the case while out on another job and that we rarely received much detail in reports." Chase nodded his head and scribbled notes on his notepad. Ethan glanced at the notepad. Chase's handwriting was so illegible, it could have been a code that only he could decipher as far as Ethan knew. "He didn't ask you for a warrant? He just let you in?" Chase said. "Nope. Most people don't put up a fight at the risk of looking suspicious. Especially the guilty, but not for lack of trying as hard as they can to hide any possible evidence of guilt. When they do resist, I remind them that the police can be involved if they don't cooperate.” "I could see how that would be intimidating. How did you get into the dungeon? I don't imagine he invited you into the basement?" Ethan wanted to laugh, but knew he should keep up the appearance of a

traumatized, self-defense victim. "No. No he didn't. I noticed the suspicious door covered by a mattress. He claimed to be rearranging rooms for whatever reason. So I went to the bathroom and snuck through the door while he made coffee. Once I witnessed the atrocities he was hiding, I knew he would probably not let me leave safely. By that point, he was on his way down the steps. He had a bat with him. . ." Ethan trailed off, acting distraught from having to relive the events. "Sorry, it's still hard to believe everything that happened. He tried to hit me with the bat. He would have done the same thing I did to him had I not reacted quickly. Due to his size, his swing was slow enough to dodge. When I moved out of the way, I bumped into the table of knives. I realized a knife was the only option to defend myself." Chase raised his palm to stop Ethan. "Then, in self-defense, you stab Thomas. I get that, but then why bludgeon him with the bat?" Chase's eyes revealed how suspicious he was. "Thomas is a big guy. The knife didn't do much to stop him. He tried to push me away with the bat, but I wrestled it away from him. Then, this creep pulls the knife out and says he's going to kill me. Sure enough, he lunged at me with the knife and I had no other choice but to crack him in the head with it. It was intense. I've never been more terrified. I immediately decided that I wasn't going to die in that dungeon, effectively leaving those children to fend for themselves." Ethan regretted claiming Thomas had lunged at him, knowing damn well how ridiculously incapable Thomas was of such an action. Luckily, Chase seemed to buy it. Chase wrote down more notes, then flipped back a page in his notebook. "Would you say that you were more terrified in this case than when you defended yourself against Marcus Stewart, resulting in his death?" According to Ethan's perception, the question had an underlying purpose. Was Chase trying to make a connection between the two events? He took it personally that Chase was insinuating he wasn't being truthful. "Yeah, I was more terrified this time. Marcus caught me by surprise. In this case, I knew in the back of my mind, once Thomas came down those stairs with the bat, that I was going to have to protect myself and the children. Thomas was a monster of a human being. I still can't get everything I witnessed down in that dungeon out of

my head." Chase put his notebook away in his suit jacket pocket. "That's all I wanted to know for now." Ethan stopped Chase before he could get out of his seat to walk away. "Whoa, wait a minute. I still have questions for you, agent." "Oh, yeah. What is it you want to know?" "Kathy apologized to me for helping lure Dillon away from his parents, but how did Thomas capture Kathy?" Looking irritated, Chase pulled his notepad back out. He looked over his notes before answering Ethan. "Kathy said that she was threatened at knifepoint to get into his car. She walked home three days a week, and usually travelled through a back alley to get home. I'm guessing he watched her for some time, then decided that the alley was the perfect spot to grab her. Anything else you're curious about?" "Well, why is the head of the FBI International Task Force concerned with this case, and why are you questioning me?" "I just want to make sure that I personally have all the facts straight, and I wanted to confirm your involvement. I'm here because Thomas was one of several individuals involved in a child pornography ring. So far, we've analyzed most of his computer data and have leads on eight other individuals that should be arrested within the next few days. Unfortunately, several of the larger contributors have covered their tracks well enough to evade our experts. One man even gave Thomas most of the advice he used to carry out the kidnappings, going as far as to request first hand participation in return. It's a high-profile case, especially since Saint Nicholas communicated with some of the suspects." "Santa Claus? What does he have to do with it?" Ethan said, knowing it didn't mean what he thought it did. "He’s not the Santa Claus you're familiar with. He uses the alias in an intentionally disturbing and ironic way by relating himself to the Catholic, patron saint for children. While the Catholic saint gave gifts to well behaved children, this man would rather take them away. He's possibly the most prolific

child pornographer and exploiter alive, but the extent of his crimes is difficult to assess. His digital footprint is nonexistent as far as identity is concerned. He could be considered the most disturbing human being alive. He's guilty of every crime in the book, well, at least the worst ones. We're not sure how he has access to so much illegal media. I'd give anything to catch this guy." Chase said, pointing his index finger at the table top and tapping it. Before Chase closed his notepad, Ethan was able to read a significant clue that Chase didn't want to share. "Unknown mentor knew Kathy and requested her by name," it read. "Could this mystery advisor be someone that Sarah and Kathy know personally?" Ethan asked. Chase put his notepad away for the final time. "Sarah dated a few men over the last few years, but she wasn't concerned that any of them were involved. Two of the guys had no criminal records, and the other one just had a few traffic tickets. That's all the information that I can share with you at this time." Satisfied with the information he received, Ethan stood up from the table at the same time as Chase. Ethan wasn't quite sure whether to consider Chase an ally or an enemy at that point. Chase waved his hand as a farewell and handed Ethan his business card. "If you have anything else for me, you can give me a call. In any case, I'm sure we'll see each other again." Ethan stopped Chase in his tracks after the agent began walking away by blurting out one final question. "So, this advice guy, he could be local?" Chase turned his head and looked over his shoulder at Ethan. "Possible. But most of these child predators are willing to travel long distances, even across state lines, just for the opportunity to have relations with a child. He could live anywhere, essentially." That was disappointing news to Ethan's ears. He was ready to seek out the accomplice to Thomas's heinous crime.

CHAPTER 15

"Welcome back, Ethan," Janelle said enthusiastically, welcoming him into her office. "It's too bad that we've developed a habit of only meeting under these circumstances, though." "I know. I meant to come by on other occasions, but the cases don't let up. I'm too preoccupied when I arrive at work," Ethan said as he sat down on the couch, feeling much more comfortable than the first time he visited her office. "I'm sorry you had to go through that again. I'm sure yesterday was a long day for you. It's both figuratively and literally a brighter day today." She was absolutely right. The sunshine really made a difference in Ethan's demeanor. He felt more jovial than he had over the rainy and chaotic weekend, and the sun gave him the energy he needed to get up on a Monday morning. "You know what they say about murder, it gets easier after the first time," Ethan said, smirking. "Ah, so you're coping with your feelings through humor." Ethan smiled on the inside, knowing that he wasn't actually coping with any feelings. He was just being honest. "Yeah, you could say that." Ethan took a seat on the couch, relaxing back and crossing his fingers. "Has this event brought back any feelings about Marcus's death?" "To be honest, not really. I've dealt with that. I actually feel more justified in this case. I hope you don't think I'm losing it, but if you could have witnessed what Thomas did, or understood what he was going to do to those children, then you would see that there is no possible way to see him as a victim. Or even human for that matter." "So, in this case, you don't think Thomas deserved to live? How would it have played out if Thomas didn't threaten you?"

Ethan gave the impression that he was deeply contemplating her questions, when he really already knew the answer. Looking back, he wanted to kill Thomas the minute he stepped foot in that basement, but knew he couldn't tell Janelle that. "I have no reservations about his death. Of course, if he hadn't attacked me, I would have turned him in to authorities for legal prosecution. Killing him without being threatened would be murder." "Well, you sound pretty stable, Ethan. How do you feel about what you saw in that basement?" "I can't get it out of my head. I can't even imagine what this guy wanted to do. He not only raped that little girl, but he was planning to castrate a little boy. How and why would anyone do that? It's horrifying. He even had thoughts of cannibalism and was inevitably going to kill these children. He wanted to eat. . ." Ethan couldn't finish the sentence. He rubbed his eyes and looked away from Janelle. She allowed him a moment to compose himself, taking notes on her pad. "I actually had a nightmare last night. I dreamt that I was basically in Dillon's position. I was being dragged into the basement by Thomas, screaming at the top of my lungs for help. Obviously, no one came to my rescue. It was strange because I knew Thomas and what he was capable of, but I didn't know what was about to happen, if that makes any sense?" Ethan said, trying to convey the context of the dream. Janelle nodded. "I think I understand. It is a dream after all. Your mind only allowed you to access certain information from reality that was then projected in your dream." "I was scared to death. The basement was barely lit and he forced me into the coffin. I struggled so much. He stripped me naked and closed the lid to the box. All I could do was cry in the darkness. Being alone with no hope of rescue was terrifying. The worst part of it all, I had no idea what I did to deserve such treatment." "It's common to feel this way. I’ve only read about the incident, yet I am having a hard time getting it out of my head. This is not a typical case as everything about it is disturbing. I suggest focusing on the survival of the children. The most positive aspect of the case is that you saved those children."

"That's exactly what keeps me going, Janelle. No matter what atrocities I see, or how many children's lives are lost, the ones I do or can save, they push me to continue my efforts. I find myself working harder with every case. If I'm not pushing myself, I feel like I'm failing everyone." Janelle leaned forward and looked into Ethan's eyes. "Ethan, don't forget that you can't save every child. You're not the only one trying to save children. You shouldn't put too much pressure on yourself. In other words, don’t push too hard. You will get burned out." "I wish I could do that. But, my conscious won't allow it. When a child is abused and neglected by their parents, or alone in a stranger's basement, I'm as equally responsible for saving them as law enforcement. The police force doesn't have the resources to do everything. The teachers, neighbors, and doctors that deal with children on a daily basis might not even notice the abuse, or worse yet, not do anything about it. So, when a child has no one to turn to, I'm their last hope." Ethan forcibly held back the tears that began to flood his eyes as he ionately poured out his true feelings. "We have a responsibility to identify children that need help. These are children that don't know what to do and are often afraid to tell anyone; children that need an adult to tell them that they did nothing wrong; children that don't know the love that most families have for one another. Knowing that, I'll do whatever it takes to save them." After maintaining teary and resolute eye with Janelle, Ethan realized he was looking at her with the deadly determination he had stared at Thomas with. Judging by Janelle's concerned expression, she understood how serious he was about protecting children. Janelle placed her hand on his knee and empathetically stared at him. "I know how dedicated you are, Ethan. As long as you leave my office knowing that your heart is in the right place, and that you've done nothing to be ashamed about, then I've done my job. No one is going to miss this Thomas creep." Ethan wasn't completely sure if Janella understood what he had actually done, or if she was just treating him like any other victim of tragedy. To avoid an awkward conversation to determine which, he stood up and shook her hand. "Thank you again, Janelle. I appreciate your perspective and honesty." "That's what I'm here for, Ethan. Come see me again soon. Preferably without

another incident." Confident that his secret was still safe, Ethan congratulated himself on successfully hiding the fact that he had murdered Thomas in cold blood. He had manipulated everyone into viewing him as a victim rather than a murderer. If he could convince his own psychologist, no one else could possibly think otherwise. Having gone straight to Janelle's office when arriving to work, Ethan hadn't been greeted by anyone else at the agency. While walking back to his desk, several people congratulated him. Even Lin approached him. "I didn't know you were working on your days off, too. You should take some time off. You know, if you need it. The world won't collapse without you at work for a few days." Ethan showed her a modest smile. "I'm good, Lin. I'll collect on that vacation this winter." Lin slapped him on the back. "Don't overdo it. Good work yesterday." Owen approached him from behind once Lin disappeared into her office. "Dude, you're famous. Could I have your autograph?" he asked, handing Ethan a sharpie and turning around to stick his butt out. "Right here would be nice." Ethan threw the pen, hitting Owen in the back of the head. "Nice try." "All right. In all seriousness, I need you and Maria to be at the restaurant by eight." "What are you talking about?" Ethan said, legitimately confused. Owen laughed. "Maria didn't tell you? You guys are going to dinner with my fiancé and I. She's been wanting to meet you, but even more so now that you're this famous hero. She just texted me and said how excited she is, and since tomorrow is her night off, I told Maria you guys should be there at eight sharp." "First of all, you're never anywhere sharp, and second of all, you're engaged? This keeps getting better. You've barely talked about this girl. What, you've been together a week?" "No. More like over five years. We've been off and on, but I think I'm really

ready to commit now. I'm convinced this is THAT girl. I mean, she can still stand me after all this time, and she knows pretty much everything about me." The weekend was so chaotic, the dinner date must have slipped Maria's mind. "Well, congratulations, buddy. I just hope you're serious and don't come to regret it later. Maybe this is that pivotal moment in your life when you realize it's time to become an adult." Owen slapped Ethan on the back. "I most certainly have. Well, got a house call to make, so I'll see you at dinner, buddy." Once Owen began walking away, Ethan said, "Thank God. You're going to get some work done, finally. Maybe you have matured." Owen continued to walk away and completely ignored him. Shaking his head, he sat down and took a sip of the coffee he had prepared before entering Janelle's office, oblivious to how cold it must be until the liquid reached his tongue. His mouth pursed with distaste at the same time that he noticed a blurry silhouette approaching out of the corner of his eye. Looking toward the figure, he saw Lin walking toward him, only this time her expression was determined and she carried a manila folder. "Since you're working today, I need you to go check this house out. The school district called to report Tina, a teenage girl, missing for a few days without any reasoning, but there hasn’t been a missing person’s report filed by the mother." Lin explained. “The mother, Hannah, doesn’t have any priors. Her ex-husband does have some drug trafficking charges, though. He's not living in the state, so he shouldn't be an issue." Lin placed her hands on his desk and leaned in close to him. "If you see anything out of the ordinary, you call the police. I don't need you involved in any more deaths." Ethan frowned at Lin and crossed his arms. "Come on, Lin. You don't have to treat me like a newbie." Lin chuckled. "Just don't kill anybody today." "No promises!" he shouted as Lin walked away.

Ethan walked toward his car, enjoying the warm sunshine radiating his face. The smog-saturated air had been cleared by the weekend of rain, but would unfortunately not stay that way for long. While he was hoping the pleasant morning would set the tone for the day, he knew it would not remain so—not with the case he was just given. Sitting in his Escape, Ethan pulled the envelope Sarah had given him out of the glove compartment. Reading her letter of heartfelt gratitude humbled him, while also providing the encouragement he needed to continue his pursuit of justice for all children. It pumped him up for his current case. Ethan placed the letter back into the glove compartment, knowing that he would read it again in the future when in need of confidence, and when needing a reminder about why he became a social worker in the first place. Anxious and determined, Ethan put the car in gear and drove in the direction of his next assignment. The Escape steadily cruised down each street in the neighborhood as Ethan looked for the address that had been reported. With the visor down, he still had to shield his eyes from the sun that shone directly into his face while trying to identify the numbers at each address. Most of the homes in the neighborhood he travelled through could use renovations to their exterior, so he assumed the interiors were just as bad. The homes weren't necessarily trashy, but they were aging poorly. The one home with a manicured lawn and fresh coat of paint stood out like a sore thumb, but in a good way. Once Ethan spotted the address he was supposed to investigate, he parked across the street and a few houses down from the house he was supposed to inspect. He sat quietly in his car, watching the property for any activity. A dirty Toyota Corolla was parked in the driveway of the single-story home. A red pick-up truck was also parked out front, but on the curb. Like most of the homes he usually visited, the lawn had not been mowed in at least a few weeks and the facade was in desperate need of repainting. In most cases, if a child is neglected, so was the home. Looking at his watch, Ethan realized lunch time was nearly over. His visit with Janelle had taken up most of his morning, but he hadn't noticed the time.

Picturing the perfect cheeseburger—the elusive burger yet to be seen in reality that was used in fast food commercials to entice viewers—caused his mouth to salivate. His patience quickly evaporated while fantasizing about the juicy burger, prompting him to approach the house. Just as his hand grabbed the handle of the car door, the front door of the home opened. A middle-aged man exited the house. He was about the same height as Ethan and not much heavier. While walking toward his truck, the man reached down to check his crotch zipper. Once inside his truck, the man drove away. Ethan was quick to write down the truck's license plate number before the vehicle was out of sight. Based on what he had just witnessed, and with reports of multiple men going in and out of the house, he worried the young girl was being treated as a sex slave. While preparing himself to approach the house, the front door opened again. This time a woman exited the home, counting a wad of bills as she walked toward the Corolla. She had blonde, greasy hair, and wore a stained, white tank top with baggy sweat pants. She didn't appear to be wearing any make-up and her complexion looked sickly. He hoped that the mother was the prostitute, but then where was the daughter? Once her car backed out of the driveway and disappeared down the road, Ethan got out of his car, hoping he would catch the teen girl at home alone. Ethan knocked on the door, listening for a response. Not hearing a single sound come from inside the home, he turned the door knob. Being that it was unlocked, he decided to let himself in, but not before looking over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching him enter. The interior of the home wasn’t in shambles, but it wasn't all that clean either. Stepping into the living room, he did find a plastic bag containing marijuana on the coffee table, next to a dirty bong. A few steps away from the living room was a kitchen with several dirty dishes in the sink. Ten empty beer bottles were lined on top of the counter, along with a greasy, fast food bag. While the greasy bag was not really appetizing, it induced more imagery of burgers that made his mouth water. Walking down the side hall, Ethan came to Tina’s room. Pink and purple colors

were dominant throughout the furniture in the room. There were several stuffed animals on the shelves and a doll's castle next to her dresser. The room looked fit for a child, but not what one expects of a teenager. To his horror, despite everything he had seen on the job already, Tina was nearly unconscious on her bed. She was nude other than a bra and princess themed, high heel shoes. He immediately pulled the covers over her body and lifted her head. "Can you hear me, dear? Can you speak?" She spoke softly and mumbled her words. "Yes. . .I hear you. . .hel—" Tina started choking, struggling to turn her head so that she could vomit. He helped her safely vomit by pulling Tina onto her side and lifting her head over the side of the bed. While she tried to move herself, he felt little activity or resistance while holding her. Looking away as she began puking, fighting to keep his gag reflex under control, he spotted a syringe on the nightstand. The worst possible outcome had been realized. The mother was drugging her daughter and pimping her out for money, which was most likely used to buy drugs. He considered rape the most disgusting crime, and witnessing a child subjected to it by her own mother infuriated him. His anger boiled beyond the same point that he had felt when caving in Thomas's head with a baseball bat. As Tina finished vomiting, he lay her back down and pulled out his phone to call the police. "Help me," the girl managed to say. Placing a phone call to emergency services had become second nature to Ethan. He had no trouble explaining the situation—or his version of it—to the dispatcher. After ending the call, he heard the front door open. Surely it was the mother and he would be able to confront her. Slowly walking back down the hall, he witnessed Hannah dumping syringes and smaller bags appearing to contain both marijuana and heroin out of a paper bag and onto the kitchen counter. He couldn't resist the outrage he felt, so he charged toward her with clenched fists. Hannah looked up to witness Ethan approaching her, enraged. Her eyes instantaneously grew with fear. Ethan wrapped one hand around her arm and the

other around her throat, throwing her up against the kitchen wall with ferocity, causing her back and head to slam against it. As frightened tears began to pour from her eyes, she fought to remove his hands from her. "What the hell do you want?" she struggled to shout. "Take whatever you want, please. Want to fuck a fifteen-year-old? Huh? I'll let you. Even give you a discount." Ethan squeezed tighter when hearing her disgusting proposition. "Shut the fuck up!" he said while staring into her eyes without an ounce of sympathy. "You're a waste of human life. Woman or not, I would have no problem ending your life for what you've done. You're lucky, though, because I've already called the police and an ambulance to save your daughter. You know, the one you let a bunch of strangers have their way with for a little drug money." "I'm sorry. So damn sorry. I swear it. I have a problem. I need help." He abruptly slapped her, just hard enough not to bruise her. "Spare me, I've heard it before. I want you to listen to me. When the police get here, you're going to tell them that you let me in when I arrived. I'm with Child and Family Services and you had no other choice. If you don't, I'll make sure you don't make it to jail, but rather the morgue." "Whatever you say, man. But please, can I shoot up real quick, before they get here?" He loosened his grip on her neck, but continued to hold her arm tight. "Only if you tell me about that guy I saw leaving before you left your daughter alone to choke on her own vomit." "Okay, okay. No problem, mister." As soon as he released his grip, the desperate, addicted mother ran to the counter and grabbed a syringe, bag of heroin, spoon, lighter, and rubber hose. "The guy's name is Sam. I met him online while trying to find customers, and he's come by a few times over the last couple of years. Look, I don't do this all the time. Just when I need some cash." Ethan observed the woman while she wrapped the hose around her bicep. The vein in her arm swelled as her circulation ceased. She focused on the flame from

the lighter heating the spoon full of heroin in her hand. "You disgust me, Hannah. I can't believe you try to justify exploiting your own daughter." The heroin powder slowly liquefied, bubbling as it came to a boil. "It's really easy to judge the addict. You're so much better than me, aren't you?" He continued to stare at her, despising everything she represented. "You bet your ass I am. You really don't get it. You're too far gone. It’s about how you treat your daughter, not me. How long have you been doing this to her?” “Shit, man. Not that long. Just since she was maybe. . .about twelve,” she said in a casual manner that frightened him. Beginning to fantasize about jamming the syringe into her neck, sirens arrived out front, just as she filled the syringe with heroin. Motioning to stick the needle in her arm, he grabbed her hand, prying the syringe from her grip. "Sorry, time's up." he said, throwing the syringe at the wall. Police officers barged into the house, followed by two paramedics. While the officers put Hannah in handcuffs, Ethan directed the paramedics to Tina’s room. The paramedics quickly injected her with naloxone, started an IV, and placed her on a gurney. "You're going to be all right now, Tina. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of," Ethan said, squeezing her hand. He carefully placed her limp hand on the gurney as the paramedics rolled her away, assuming that Tina probably wasn’t conscious of what was happening. After the police officers took his statement, Ethan was dying for a meal. While his stomach devoured itself, he figured a small snack at the hospital would tide him over until getting home. Sitting in his car, Ethan reveled in the mother's arrest. Once he had learned what the woman had done, the only thing of importance was that she received a fitting punishment. She had strong potential to become a valuable member of the violent, drug addicted inmate community in prison. Following the ambulance in his Escape, Ethan mentally planned the rest of his afternoon. After making sure Tina was going to be all right, he would visit Sarah to find out more information about her ex-boyfriends. While he didn’t doubt

Chase’s abilities as a detective, he had a strong feeling that an important piece of information was being overlooked. He figured the average investigator wouldn't put as much effort into the investigation as he would. Kathy could not have been picked randomly, but rather chosen for a specific reason. Once reaching the hospital, the ambulance parked in front of the emergency room and Ethan parked in the parking lot. He hadn’t eaten in so long that his hands began to shake. While not excited about eating the bland food from the hospital cafeteria, his body was alerting him that it was necessary. Walking through the entrance to the hospital, Ethan noticed a former social worker of Child and Family Services. Paul was on his way out with a child by his side. “Hey, Paul. Long time, buddy. How have you been?” he said, shaking Paul’s hand. “Hi, Ethan. It’s been one of those long days for me. I had to confront this little guy’s parents. They were trying to get him back after putting him in the hospital three days ago. Bastards injected the poor guy with heroin,” Paul told him in a whisper. Ethan rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it. I’m here to check up on a poor girl that was subjected to a heroin overdose by her mother. That shit is an epidemic right now. I sure wish we could put a stop to that crap coming into our cities.” “You and me both. It’s good to see you again, Ethan. Hopefully I won’t run into you here too often. I got to get this little guy to a foster home now that he’s been released. Good luck, buddy,” Paul said, waving goodbye. “God be with you, Paul." Ethan continued walking straight toward the cafeteria, refusing to let anything else distract him from depositing food into his belly. Nearing the entrance, he heard a group of people talking and laughing inside. His immediate assumption was that they most likely weren’t visitors unless it was a celebration for a child birth. There were very few other reasons he could imagine that would put people in a lighthearted mood. Stepping into the large cafeteria, he identified the jocular group that was made

up of four doctors and five nurses. He wondered how they even had an appetite to eat after seeing disgusting injuries and surgeries all day long. The only answer was that they had built up an immunity to such things after doing the job long enough. He could not ignore the fact that he himself had built up an immunity of sorts. With each new degenerate he met, it was becoming easier to deal with them however he pleased by ignoring any protocol he was supposed to follow. Being self-aware, he feared losing total control and reaching a point where he couldn’t recognize the difference between right and wrong anymore. Maybe there was no psychological benefit to everyone approving of his actions that are based on lies he had manipulated everyone into believing, but it gave him a false sense of legitimacy. Walking up to the cafeteria counter, Ethan grabbed a pre-made Cobb salad and a twenty-ounce Coke. He figured the salad would be a safe bet to hold him over until getting home for dinner where he could gorge himself on Maria’s cooking. Carrying the salad container and Coke in his hands, Ethan walked to the front desk of the emergency room wing. A gorgeous, young blonde girl was sitting at the computer. “Gretchen” was the name on her nametag. Ethan thought about how only a pretty woman could successfully avoid chaffing for a terrible name like that. “Good afternoon. Can I help you?” she said. Even though he was married, he felt the need to make a good impression with the girl. “I’m doing all right, dear. Could you just let me know when I can see Tina? I’m the social worker that saved her life today,” he said without sounding like he was bragging. She didn’t bother to take her attention away from what she was typing. “That’s great, sir. I’ll let you know when she’s available.” His masculinity barely intact, Ethan sat down in a waiting room chair and dug into his salad. The chicken breast was dry and the eggs were a little on the rubbery side, even after dousing it with the Italian dressing packet. That didn’t stop him from savoring every bite as if he hadn’t eaten in days. On days that lunch got postponed due to significant events, he always swore to himself that he would eat breakfast more often. Sleep just always took priority over getting up earlier to make breakfast.

After about an hour of waiting, the nurse let him know Tina was awake. “You can go in and see her now, Mr. Harper." Ethan gave the nurse a big, teeth-baring smile. “Thank you very much.” The nurse responded with an artificial grin. Walking through the emergency room doors and toward Tina’s room, he popped the seal on his Coke and chugged several gulps until his throat and sinuses burned from the carbonation. As he pulled the bottle away from his lips, he couldn’t refrain from coughing while entering Tina’s room. “Excuse me,” Ethan said. Tina didn't verbally respond. She just looked up to see who was entering her room. She looked much better than when he had met her. Her natural skin tone had returned and her eyes were open wide. “You me? My name is Ethan Harper. I wasn’t sure you would me because of how much heroin was in your body.” “Yeah, I you. My memory is patchy. After you helped me puke, I blacked out completely until waking up here. I want to thank you. I wasn’t sure my nightmare would ever end." “You definitely look better. I’m sorry this happened to you, Tina. I wish I could say it wasn’t common, but parents give their kids drugs all the time." "That's terrible. I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy," Tina said, pushing her greasy hair behind her ear. He didn't want to ruin the moment, but felt it was important to explain the path ahead of her. "The good news is that the worst is behind you, but it’s going to be a long road before you can take your life back. Once you’re released from the hospital, you’ll need to go through rehab. I know it’s not your fault, but you’ll need help getting off heroin.” Tina pointed to one of her teeth. “You have something in your teeth, by the way. So, where do I live after that? I don’t know any other family ?”

Ethan rubbed his teeth with his finger and found a piece of lettuce, now understanding why the nurse had been so awkward. His masculinity was completely defeated. “Well, you’re old enough that we’ll place you in a group home. Since you’ll soon be old enough to live on your own, we want to prepare you for that. I promise, Tina, I will put you in the best one I can find. I want you to have the best possible chance at success. You deserve it. He stared at Tina, making sure she was paying close attention. "The most important thing is that you understand nothing that happened to you was your fault. Most girls in your situation blame themselves. Don’t do that. Not even for a second." “I appreciate that, but I’m responsible for how long it went on. I should have reported that bitch the first time she did it to me, but the threats kept me silent. From Hannah and many of the men she forced me to. . .” Tina had to stop talking, breaking eye with him to control her tears. She was not successful. “I know. You don’t have to say anymore. You don’t have to answer either, but can I ask how many times this has happened?” “Thirty-two, over the last year and a half. All for money and drugs. She never loved me. When I was little, she would make me steal stuff from stores or beg for money. She’s always used me." “That’s over now. Hannah isn’t going to affect your life ever again. She’s going away for a long time. Again, I’m sorry. I wish someone would have reported something sooner. I have to go now. I just wanted to make sure I spoke with you as soon as you were coherent. I’ll be seeing you again, dear.” “Thank you for everything, Ethan,” Tina said, reaching up with both hands and holding his arm. Ethan bent over and kissed the top of her head. “You should get some rest. You need it. Bye, Tina.” Travelling to Sarah's house only took about fifteen minutes. As he pulled up to the curb, Sarah looked up from the flower bed she was digging in, elated and surprised to see Ethan.

The front yard had four different flower beds. Colorful flowers grew in the two flower beds closest to the porch, while the other two beds lined along the side of house contained vegetable plants, of which cabbage and peppers were visible. Sarah stood up and took her dirt-caked gloves off as Ethan approached her. "Well, isn't this a nice surprise. I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon." "It's good to see you, too. Sorry I'm stopping by unannounced like this." She stepped towards him, reaching out for a hug. It would have been impolite to refuse, so he hugged her. "It's no problem at all, Ethan. Would you like to come inside?" "No, thank you, though. I'm on my way home. I just figured I'd stop by because I had a favor to ask." Sarah looked confused. "Really? What can I do to help?" "I spoke with agent Ramsey the other day, and he really didn't have any leads as to whom could have wanted Kathy kidnapped. I believe he spoke to you about your previous lovers?" "Well, yeah. He asked me if anyone would want to harm Kathy, but I can't imagine any of the men I've been with doing that. I only dated three over the last three or four years, and I didn't date them long. None of them acted strangely around Kathy," Sarah said, visibly struggling to recollect. "Would you mind showing me their pictures?" He could tell she was still confused. "I know I'm not involved in the investigation, but there is a chance I could help find this guy that worked with Thomas. Sometimes, these types of men are involved in other child abuse crimes. I'd like to keep an eye out at the very least." "You saved my baby girl, and I can't possibly repay you for that. I'd help in any way possible to catch that creep. I'll run inside and grab the pictures." While waiting outside for her to return, a school bus stopped in the street and let three children out. One of the children was Kathy. Her face lit up with excitement as she ran toward him, arms wide open. Upon collision, he nearly fell off his feet.

"Hi, Ethan. It's so good to see you," Kathy said. "How are you? I'm surprised you went back to school so soon." "I wanted to see my friends again. I missed being a normal kid." Ethan nodded. "I totally get it." "Hi, honey," Sarah said, walking back outside with a phone and a picture in her hand. "Did you have a good day back at school?" "Yes, Mom. Definitely. My friends were happy to see me again." "I bet they were, honey. Go inside and do your homework. I'll be inside in a minute to help." "Okay. See you later, Ethan," Kathy said, jogging inside with her backpack shaking back and forth on her shoulders. "Bye, Kathy. Take care." Sarah handed him a picture strip that came from a picture booth. She also gave him her phone, which had pictures of the other two men. Looking at all three men, he recognized one on her phone. It was the man he saw leaving Hannah's house earlier, after having raped her fifteen-year-old daughter. "What's this guy's name?" he said, pointing at the picture on her phone. "That's Bill. I dated him for about three months a year ago. He was a nice guy, but we had too many differences. We just didn't have that spark," Sarah said. "What did he do for a living?" "He was a teacher, I think. Maybe a substitute. His schedule changed a lot and he was actually kind of mysterious about it." Ethan raised an eyebrow. "How so?" "He never had me over at his place, and he didn't like to talk much about his past. I just figured he didn't like to get personal. Do you recognize him?"

"He looks familiar, but I'm just confusing him with a different guy named Sam," he said, lying through his teeth. He didn't want to alarm her. "Well, thank you so much. I should be going." Sarah leaned over and hugged him again. "You're welcome any time, Ethan. Just let me know if you need anything else." Ethan walked back to his car and smiled triumphantly, knowing that Bill would most definitely be the man connected to Thomas, and he had his license plate number. Bill and Sam were definitely the same man, so he must have used a fake name when visiting Hannah. Ethan knew he should call Chase, but couldn't resist keeping the new information to himself. Bill was just as evil as Thomas, if not worse. Nothing would make him happier than to stop Bill just as he had stopped Thomas. He felt it was his personal responsibility.

CHAPTER 16

"Your son does not want to see you. Can't you see how terrified he is?" Owen said, arguing with a child's abusive father. Carlos Gomez stood toe to toe with Owen in the visitation room, faces mere inches from one another. Gomez's son, Diego, cowered and shook behind Owen. Ethan stood off to the side while observing the standoff, ready to intervene if necessary. Carlos—being a recovering alcoholic—was trying to visit his son. He had become confrontational because Diego refused to go near him, begging Owen to keep his father away. "You had better back away and let me spend my hour with Diego. It's my fucking right to see him! You can't treat me like an illegal immigrant!" "I can smell alcohol on your breath, sir. You're in violation of the conditions that allow you to have visitation rights. Don't try to make this about something else, and don't make us call the police," Owen said. Carlos poked his index finger into Owen's chest. "I'm going to beat the living shit out of you in a second, pendejo." Ethan felt the same anger that Owen must have, as well as the same urge to put the drunk asshole in his place. Owen couldn't maintain professionalism any longer, though he spoke calmly. "You're a piece of shit, Carlos. I'm going to make damn sure you won't see your son ever again. If you're not willing to get help at this point, you're a lost cause. I would love it if you made a move. You'd quickly realize that you made another lifelong mistake." Carlos looked over at Ethan who scowled at him in return. "I'm going to go have a chat with my lawyer. I'll see you again soon," Carlos said, backing down from his offensive stance. He left the building in a rage, staggering as he walked through the parking lot.

Owen crouched down and gave Diego a hug. "It's going to be okay, little guy. We will not let your father hurt you again. You have my word." Diego pathetically looked up at Owen, watery eyes nearly bulging out of his face like a puppy dog. “Do I get to go home with Mami yet?” “Not yet, pal. You only have to be in foster care for a little while. I’m sure it will be less than a year. Once your mother gets out of rehab, becomes able to you and herself, and after regaining custody in court, you’ll be able to go home. It might seem like a long time, but it will go quick. You're really lucky to have foster parents that are so cool.” Holding Diego's hand, Owen turned to thank Ethan. "Thanks for the assist, pal. Don't forget about tonight. Eight sharp." "We'll be there, buddy," Ethan said. He had a case to check up on, so he walked outside toward his car. Once he slid his key into the car door, an orange Mustang rumbled and rolled to a stop next to him. Carlos sat in the driver's seat and rolled down the enger side window. "Hey, dickhead. You tell your buddy to watch his back. You better keep an eye on yours, too. No one gets away with coming between me and my boy. It's not smart to prevent a father from being with his son." "You probably shouldn't be driving," Ethan said with a smile. The tires on the Mustang squealed as he sped out of the parking lot. He was amused with himself, knowing that Carlos had no idea who he was talking to. During his drive to Karen Copeland's house, Ethan began mentally developing a plan to capture Bill. Bill was undoubtedly a predator seeking out single women with a young daughter, and he was willing to do whatever it took to get what he wanted. How many unsuspecting women had he manipulated already, and even worse, how many children had he subverted? The man was an accomplice in Kathy's kidnapping, had participated in solicited rape, and trafficked in child pornography. He deserved more than prison—he deserved physical punishment. Ethan felt that he was the only one that could do it properly. He was the only one that could assure Bill would get what he

rightfully deserved. A disguise was necessary when attacking him. Cameras were everywhere, as well as witnesses. Why not wear a tried and true ski mask? He would have to follow Bill until the opportunity presented itself. Somewhere without witnesses. But where would he take him? For every child that had been terrified and caused pain at the hands of Bill, Ethan would make sure that Bill experienced the pain and suffering of every victim he was responsible for. Ethan barely noticed he had reached Karen's house because of how visceral his fantasy was. He was dumbfounded by his instinctual driving skills, not having noticed every turn and stop he had made. Deputy Perez from the Sherriff’s department and Craig Shillman had already arrived as he pulled up to the curb. Any time a case was known to involve drugs, an officer from the Sherriff’s department and the deputy district attorney had to be present. A little over a month ago, her son, Ryan, was spotted at school with serious bruises on his body, which he itted to his teacher had been caused by his mother. The boy claimed it was the drink’s fault, not his mother. Karen had been found in the driver’s seat of her Ford Focus when Ethan and the police arrived, unconscious from using heroin. Luckily, she hadn’t made it out of the driveway. “Nice to see you again Craig and Deputy Perez,” Ethan said as he approached the men. Once the three of them loomed on the front door, Ethan knocked with his inspection sheet in hand. "Mrs. Copeland, it's Ethan Harper with Child and Family Services. Mr. Shillman and the deputy sheriff are here, too. We need to inspect your home." Karen Copeland, a blonde woman who would be quite pretty if her face wasn't currently pale and sickly, opened the door. Granted, she probably had not applied any make-up yet. Because of her complexion, the dark bags under her eyes were accentuated. Ethan reached out to shake her hand, which she clearly ignored. "Hello, Mrs.

Copeland. We’re just doing a follow-up inspection." She paused for a minute to comprehend the situation. Her facial expression exuded shock and panic. She began to stutter while giving her response. "Uh. . .well. . .give me just a second." The door shut, causing suspicion immediately. He looked at the other two men to confirm that he wasn't the only one feeling like asshole for being forced to wait. They stood in silence for a minute before Karen reopened the door. "Please, come in, gentlemen." "It's nice to see you again, Karen," Ethan said as he took a seat at the dining room table with Craig. "Congratulations on your reunion with Ryan two weeks ago. I’m glad you made it through rehab successfully. I heard good things." "Thank you. I've been very happy to have him home. Would you guys like some coffee?" "Sure, that would be great," he said. Perez began searching the household, ignoring her offer. “I’m good, thank you. I think I had a bit too much today,” Craig said. When Karen brought Ethan a mug, he could smell alcohol on her breath as she exhaled. "Where is Ryan hiding at, Mrs. Copeland?" Ethan said, looking over his shoulder. "He's in trouble right now, so I sent him to his room to play." "May I ask why?" "He was being very loud and ignored me when I told him to be quiet. I have a headache and was trying to watch television." "That's not good. Are you feeling all right? What do you think is causing your headache?" Karen squeezed her forehead with her hand. "I think I'm all right. I just didn't eat that well today."

Craig looked confused watching as Ethan intentionally spilled some coffee on the table while taking a sip. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mrs. Copeland. Could I have a napkin?" Karen walked into the kitchen and stumbled over one of Ryan's toys on her way there. "God dammit, Ryan. I told you to pick up your toys," she said under her breath, but loud enough that Ethan overheard. She brought him a paper towel that he then used to wipe off the table, after which he rose from his chair. "Where's your trash can?" Karen took the paper towel from him. "I'll take that, Mr. Harper." She opened a cupboard underneath the kitchen sink and tossed it in the trash can. Either she was just being polite, or she was hiding something in the trash can. Maybe evidence of her drinking? Based on what he had seen already, Ethan didn't feel like wasting time beating around the bush. "Have you been drinking today, Mrs. Copeland?" "No, no, no. . .of course not!" "And you've been attending the AA meetings regularly like we talked about?" "Of course I have, sir." "When was the last time you had a drink?" Karen hesitated, biting her lip. "Earlier in the week. I went out with some friends and had one drink." Ethan pulled out his recorder. "Could you go get your son, please? I need to speak with him as well." Ethan held his hand up, facing his palm toward Karen to stop her from speaking. "Before you say anything, I must insist." Karen stormed off as if she had been offended. Once she left the dining room, Ethan rushed over to the kitchen sink and looked in the trash. The can contained multiple empty bottles of flavored vodka. Karen walked back into the room with Ryan following behind her, shouting at

Ethan as she realized he had found the evidence she poorly hid. "That was left over from our girl’s night!" Her shouting attracted the attention of the deputy as Ethan pulled an empty vodka bottle out of the trash can. "Mrs. Copeland, clearly, your drinking is out of control. You have violated the plan we agreed upon to provide a safe environment for Ryan." "Look, I had some friends over last night and we did a little drinking. No one got out of control, and Ryan was just fine. Sound asleep in bed all night!" "Does your husband know you were drinking?" "No. I didn't talk to him last night. He's been helping me keep my drinking under control. I never drink more than one or two beverages. I love my son too much to go back to being that person!" Ethan dropped the bottle back into the trash can and approached Karen, coming within inches of her face. "Do you understand how often I've seen this situation? Maybe Ryan was fine this time, but what about the next time? I'm never willing to take that risk, not for any child. All this proves is that alcohol must be more important than Ryan." "You have to trust me, Mr. Harper. I know this looks bad, but I will give up drinking completely if you give me one more chance. Don't take Ryan away from me," she said, holding her clenched hands toward him. Ryan ran into her arms. "I don't want to leave, Mommy. Don't let them take me." Noticing that Perez was about to intervene, Ethan walked over to talk with him. “Find any sign of heroin or any other drugs?” “No, the place is clean. What do you want to do here? I respect your call. Do you think the boy is in danger?” Looking over at Karen holding her terrified son in her arms, he concluded that there probably wasn't any threat. “No, I don’t think so.” Craig got out of his seat and approached both men. “Ethan, I don’t want to be responsible if something happens to Ryan. Are we really going to let this slide?”

After the past week Ethan had had, he was concerned that cynicism may have seeped into his subconscious. How could he trust any parent knowing how diabolical they could be? He could never forget every child that had been lost due to inaction. He could never forget Kevin East, the first child he had detrimentally failed. But picturing his own daughter and how devastating it would be to lose her for even a day because of a false assumption, Ethan reconsidered the situation. Sitting down at the table next to the sobbing woman with her son holding her tight, Ethan took a moment to relax and control his nerves. "Okay. I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt. But, we need to have a quick chat. Could you have Ryan go back to his room?" Karen sighed in relief and a smile returned to her face. "Oh God, thank you. Ryan, please go back upstairs and play in your room. The adults need to talk." Ryan didn't understand what was happening and still looked afraid. "They’re not taking me away, right Mom?" "No, honey. Everything is all right. You're not going anywhere and your daddy will be back tomorrow night." Ryan cautiously walked back to his room, looking over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure everything was fine. Karen sat attentively listening to what Ethan was going to say. "So, here's the deal. I'm taking a dangerous chance here. As that young boy's mother, it's your responsibility to it if you have a problem and are a danger to yourself or your son. Staying in control while your husband is overseas is the most important thing that you must do," Ethan said. “We understand how hard it is to be a single mother while your husband is off on deployments for long periods of time.” "I completely agree, sir. Ryan is my rock, keeping me from going over the edge again. I am not a danger to anyone. I promise to give up drinking altogether, just like I did with heroin. You will not be disappointed with me," Karen said, wiping tears from her eyes. Ethan reached over and grabbed her hand. "The most important thing to me, in

every case, is the child. I have firsthand knowledge of losing a child that I left in the care of an abusive parent. So, Karen, I want you to understand something. No, I need you to understand, that when it happens again, I'm bringing the wrath of God down on that person. Look me in the eye and tell me you understand. Then I'll fill out my report with no mention of the alcohol you consumed." Karen's tears ceased as she stared at Ethan with frightened and compliant eyes, nodding her head. "Yes, Mr. Harper, I understand. You have my word." With that, Ethan stood up from the table and walked into the kitchen. "I'm going to need every ounce of alcohol you have, please." Karen bolted for the kitchen, pulling two bottles of wine out of the cupboard and a bottle with a fourth of rum. She handed them to Ethan. "This is all I have left from last night." Taking the bottles from Karen, he walked toward the front door, followed by the other two men. "Don't let anyone bring any alcohol over anymore. Just that it's not worth losing Ryan." Karen opened the door for them. "Thank you so much, gentlemen. Ryan appreciates this, too." The door shut behind them as they returned to their vehicles. “I hope you’re right about this, Ethan. If you aren't, this is the last time I ever take a chance,” Craig said, climbing back into his car. “I think we did the right thing, Mr. Harper. I hate taking children away from their mothers, as long as there isn’t a threat, of course,” Perez said. “Thanks for all your help, Deputy. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.” Ethan poured out the rum and threw the bottle toward a trash can on the curb. The bottle barely made it, bouncing off the rim and into the can. He figured he would take the wine bottles home to Maria. She would surely appreciate the gesture. The sun began dipping beneath the horizon, reflecting fiery, golden colors across the sky. A small breeze cooled the comfortably warm air as the evening progressed, blowing Maria's bangs away from her forehead as she ired the

sunset. Walking together, with their palms pressed together and fingers interlocked, Ethan and Maria stepped into the light cast by the classy facade of The Château, the restaurant they were supposed to meet Owen at. The interior was dimly lit, so they could only make out dark figures moving around inside. The large, Romanclay roof tiles gave the building a European appeal among the asphalt shingled rooftops that surrounded it. "I love sunsets like that, especially on a date night," Maria said. While iring the sunset himself, Ethan couldn't help but wish he was back in Northern California for the autumn season. While the weather in Southern California was pleasant year-round, he missed the colder temperatures in the north that motivated people to light their fire places. The aroma of a wood burning fire and the sight of chimneys emitting smoke throughout a neighborhood, combined with the sight of golden corn fields, pumpkin patches, and multi-colored leaves raining from the tree tops, was the definitive representation of a true autumn season. Interrupting his own reminiscent thoughts, Ethan opened the door for his wife. Being married for five years was no excuse to stop being a gentleman. He noticed Maria's surprised reaction once the door was opened. "Hey! Nice timing, buddy. We just got here about five minutes ago," Owen said. Ethan and Maria looked at one another—both aware of what the other was thinking—shocked that Owen and Kelly were already waiting for a table. Uncharacteristic of Owen, he had arrived earlier than they did, and they always arrived ten minutes prior to the agreed upon meeting time. Standing with Owen, arms interlocked, was his fiancé, Kelly, who turned out to be a woman with beyond average beauty. Ethan's first thought was that she must not be conceited. She probably liked goofy men despite their physical characteristics. She was taller, thinner, and better dressed than Owen. However, Ethan had to give him credit for wearing a dressy, button up shirt that gave the impression he was classier than he actually was. Maria introduced herself to Kelly and reached out to shake her hand, prompting Owen to jump in to prove he had manners.

"I'm sorry, honey. This is Maria and her husband Ethan," Owen said, pointing to each of them respectively. "It's very nice to meet you, Kelly. I've heard so much about you," Ethan said. Both Maria and Owen looked at him with wide eyes, knowing that Owen had not talked about her much and had just announced the engagement to Ethan the day prior. Kelly shook Ethan's hand. "I've heard a lot about the both of you, too. Not to mention, I saw you on the news yesterday, Ethan. That's amazing you know, what you did." Ethan blushed as he usually did when complimented. Saving him from further embarrassment, a server announced that their table was ready. The four of them followed the server as he escorted them to their table. It was located next to a large window with a view of the gorgeous sunset that had become dark blue and purple as the sun was nearly set. "What do you guys say we order some wine to set the mood?" His question must have been rhetorical because a waitress stopped at the table to ask for drink orders, but Owen pre-emptively asked her to bring a bottle of Pinot Noir to the table and a beer for himself before anyone else could answer her. "All right, you got it," the waitress said, not hesitating to leave and grab the drinks. "I was going to ask for some water too, pal," Ethan said. "She'll be back in a second. I just wanted to liven the mood, buddy. How often do you guys get out for a date night anymore?" Owen asked. Ethan and Maria looked at one another and nodded their heads simultaneously. "True," Maria said. Ethan was unconsciously present for the small talk that commenced. He was too engrossed thinking about Bill. Every minute that animal was on the loose, another innocent life could be destroyed. The only things keeping him from pursuing Bill were the wine and Maria's presence.

His concentration broke at the same time as everyone's chatter when the waitress arrived. The effects of the Pinot were kicking in, encouraging him to stop thinking about terrible human beings for the rest of the evening. After placing their orders, Maria verbally acknowledged that all their glasses were empty. "Looks like we're going to need another bottle." Kelly stretched out her arm with wine glass in hand as Ethan poured himself a refill. "Do you mind pouring me a glass, Ethan?" He smiled in self-amusement before cracking a joke. "By all means. You had better get some more before Maria gets hold of it." Maria punched him in the bicep, then snatched the wine bottle out of his hand to pour herself a full glass, emptying the bottle. Saving Maria from a berating, Ethan distracted Kelly with conversation. "I'm glad we finally had the chance to meet you, Kelly. You must be something special because Owen doesn't typically ask women to marry him." She giggled and grabbed Owen's hand. "Trust me, I know it. We met several years ago, and since then, I've seen him with several different women. You probably don't , but we were all supposed to have dinner years ago." Ethan shook his head. "No, I don't . He's needed me to be his wing man at several dinner dates, though. I've lost count in fact." Kelly took a sip, then swirled the wine around in her glass while she appeared to contemplate a thought. "Owen tells me you have a daughter?" "Yes, a five-year-old daddy's girl," Maria blurted out. "Doesn't it scare you bringing up a child in today's environment? I mean, especially seeing what you see on a daily basis. Owen has told me a few horror stories," Kelly said, looking over at Owen to express her distaste by revealing her clenched teeth. Ethan nodded and took a sip of wine while everyone at the table had their eyes locked on him. "Well, I can't say that work doesn't affect how cynical I am about other parents, but I believe Maria and I will be able to guide Renee in the right

direction." Kelly raised her glass a foot above the table. "Here's to saving helpless children, and to the difficult task of parenting. You seem like good parents, and Lord knows that you are definitely braver than I." Ethan laughed. "Thank you. We'll need all the bravery and luck we can get when she becomes a teenager. But, it's not really about bravery. I just think that when you're ready for a child, you'll have one. Everyone has their own checklist of needs that they believe must be satisfied before having a child. Whether that's a career, true love, or a specific age. You know, whatever the reasoning may be. But sometimes accidents happen. Even to those that do everything they can to prevent it." "Now I have to ask, how did you two know you were ready?" Kelly said. "Ha, Maria was off and on about being ready. It just so happens that when she found out she was pregnant, she was in the off stage. I couldn't help but laugh, though, because I was always ready. I've never been afraid of children. I had the typical expectations of being comfortable in my career and acting on as many selfish needs as possible before having a child, but those are superficial needs that aren't necessary to be a successful and loving parent." "You mean, like, travelling and throwing money around? I guess I can understand that. It just feels like I could die tomorrow and not regret having children," Kelly said without any qualms. "But, Kelly, you also don't know how you'll feel when you do have a child. That's like saying you wouldn't regret not tasting ice cream when you've never actually tasted it. I can't speak for the pregnancy term itself, but once you hold that tiny human being you created and birthed, things change. Your sense of accomplishment, responsibility, and purpose, they all change completely. You even forget what life was like before having a child. Yeah, you make some sacrifices, but you can't imagine life any other way afterwards. Then, you get to witness your child grow up. I found myself looking forward to every new stage in Renee's life. Every sacrifice, headache, and sad moment you experience in life, they all pale in comparison to every moment that your child gives you a great big hug and says, 'I love you.'" Owen yawned and chugged the last quarter of his beer. "All this talk about

parenting is killing the mood, man. I don't like you giving Kelly ideas either." Ethan chuckled. "Yeah, I guess I just started rambling on there. Don't get me wrong, I don't honestly believe everyone is meant to be a parent. It just makes me sad to think about anyone missing out on how fulfilling it is. People that don't have kids often focus on the negative aspects, but everything in life has negative aspects." "I do find it fascinating. All my friends are getting pregnant and some of them just aren't ready. Their kids act like little shitheads. Not that I'm any expert though," Kelly said. She placed her wine glass down and stood up from her chair. "You need to go to the bathroom, Maria?" "Yeah, I'll come with you," Maria said. Both women got up from their seats and walked toward the restroom. "Be good while we're gone, boys. And Owen, make sure you order another bottle please," Kelly said. Once the girls were out of sight, Owen leaned in close to Ethan. "So, man, what was it like?" Ethan knew exactly what Owen was asking him. "Thomas was a disgusting human being. I had never met someone I despised more than him in my entire life. If I'm being honest, I enjoyed taking his life a little." Little was an understatement made to make sure he didn't come off as sadistic. "I've met guys that I wanted to destroy, but they don't make a move on me. It's kind of disappointing. And you've got two under your belt. Do you feel any different?" "The first time, I did feel a lot of guilt. I just had to realize that it was either him or me. I did nothing wrong in defending myself. With Thomas, I had absolutely no guilt. None whatsoever." Owen had a large grin on his face while listening to Ethan it his enjoyment. "I think I should have been a cop, that way I could take some of these creeps out. But nowadays, officers get crucified by the media if they shoot someone. It's fucking crazy. People are so damn stupid. I say police strike in the cities where they are protested. See how much violence breaks out then. Apparently, people

don't the wild west." Feeling slightly dizzy, but also warm and carefree, Ethan downed the last gulp of wine in his glass. "I'll tell you something, Owen. I'm at a point where I would do anything for these poor, innocent children that we meet every day. I'd do the same thing for Renee. Life or death, I'm all in." "That's deep, buddy. I get it. Helps that you're fucked up, too!" Owen said, just loud enough to avoid disturbing other diners, but the people sitting closest to them did give him unfriendly looks. "What's with chicks, by the way? I don't understand why they like to go to the bathroom together. When guys go to the bathroom, alone unless we can't hold it, we keep as many urinals as possible between us." "They just love to chit chat. They don't care that they're sitting in stalls next to one another taking a dump. It's actually pretty funny." The food arrived at the same time that the ladies returned to the table. "So, Maria and I were talking, and we want to hit a few clubs or bars after dinner. What do you boys say?" Kelly said. "We were just saying the same thing," Owen said. Maria leaned over to kiss Ethan, who at the same time reached over and gave her ass a squeeze. "I might have to call-in tomorrow," Ethan whispered in her ear. "You're kidding, right? You never call-in unless you're bedridden." "I know, and I'm guessing I will be tomorrow after how much I've had to drink." "Just take it easy, honey. Guess it's just water for the rest of the night. Eat your dinner, it will help. I don't want you to be sick when we get home. At that point, you're useless to me." Ethan perked up at her suggestion. "Yes, dear."

CHAPTER 17

Two weeks had ed since Ethan identified the perverted sociopath, that by his certainty, was the co-conspirator behind Thomas's vile crimes. He had been planning to deal with Bill. Best case scenario, he would capture Bill, torture him for information about all his crimes and accomplices, then dispatch him without anyone ever batting an eye at his disappearance. But in the worst-case scenario, nothing would go right and Ethan would end up dead or imprisoned. After how easily he had manipulated the truth to make himself appear innocent of any wrongdoing, he was confident that only the best case scenario would play out. As long as Bill was alive, Renee would not be safe, nor any child that could become a victim at the hands of the repulsive deviant. His connections in the world of child exploitation were probably far reaching. Ethan walked through the mall, visiting a sporting goods and home improvement department for the items on his shopping list, paying only with cash to avoid leaving a paper trail in case he ever became a suspect. He purchased a winter ski mask, gloves, and coat at the sporting goods store, then duct tape, pliers, and a hammer at the hardware store. While walking back to the other end of the mall where his car was parked, he watched children that ran down the halls and played at the indoor playground where his own daughter had nearly been abducted. They were all mirthful and full of life, completely unaware of their surroundings. He could not shake the suspicion that one or more individuals in the mall may be iring the children in an inappropriate manner. It disgusted him to imagine how many men could have had sexual desires for his own daughter, whether it be doctors, teachers, or any profession that allowed regular access to children. What he had learned during his time working in social services was that there were many pedophiles walking around whom had not been convicted of a crime. Some may have committed atrocities that had not been reported, while many just hadn't acted on their sexual musings. The smart thing for them to do would be to seek help by talking to a psychologist who might be able to help keep their desires at bay.

In any case, he had witnessed and learned too much about the atrocities that were committed in his hometown alone, to not be weary and skeptical about every stranger that surrounded him. Knowledge of the real dangers that lurked in the dark was both beneficial and distressing inside information that only police officers, doctors, social workers, psychologists, and priests were privy to. These were the careers that required separating work from personal feelings, yet was nearly impossible to accomplish. He couldn't help but feel like an outlaw knowing that he was about to commit a crime, and no one was the wiser. The idea that his own desire to cause Bill pain and suffering had manifested due to Bill's crimes, absolved him of any wrongdoing. The biggest difference between right and wrong being that Bill was deserving of his punishment. Bill had clearly lived his whole life without repercussions, but that was about to change. Ethan needed to be the one that would make Bill realize God had no intention of allowing him to go unpunished. What force other than God could have presented Ethan with such an opportunity as being the only one privy to Bill's involvement with Thomas? Stepping outside into the sunlight, he slid his sunglasses off the top of his head, down over his straining eyes. Looking at his watch, he saw that it was close to noon. He had planned on being home in a few hours to maintain the impression that he was supposedly just running to the office to finish some paperwork on a Sunday morning. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket before sitting down in the Escape. He pulled up a Department of Motor Vehicles records website so that he could search for Bill's address using the license plate number he had written down. He had to purchase a hip to do so, but it was well worth it. The search provided him with the address, criminal record, vehicle information, and owner’s name ed to the license plate. However, the name associated with the vehicle was Roger, not Bill or Sam. He rubbed his forehead with his hand, confused by trying to keep track of Roger's many alias'. Of course, he should have known the guy was too smart to use a real name when committing a crime. Ethan did not underestimate Roger's cunning, but appreciated the fact that he was able to make the connection before anyone else. Roger was smart and covered his tracks well. As is the case with

most prosecuted criminals, their own desires and impulses eventually effectuated their downfall. Ethan immediately drove to Roger's address. He found himself speeding due to the excitement of discovering the lion's den. However, his excitement fizzled away as he approached the three-storied apartment building that Roger lived in. While anticlimactic compared to the dingy and ominous structure he pictured Roger living in, a temporary living space made more sense, allowing Roger to move around freely when looking for fresh prey. He sat in his car waiting, parked across the street from the apartment complex, watching for the predator that was oblivious to his current position in the food chain. Scanning the parking lot, it wasn't long before he spotted Roger's red truck. He wanted to leave a note on his windshield, letting Roger know that his time was up, but the element of surprise was more important than stroking his own ego. Alone with his thoughts, he began to question himself while considering whether his vigilante plan may be suited more for a movie than real life. He wasn't just defending himself anymore. This was an act of premeditated murder. He pictured himself behind steel bars, surrounded by criminals in orange jump suits while Maria and Renee were at home, devastated that they wouldn't see him again for many years. Was inflicting a punishment of personal vengeance worth the consequences? After five minutes of anxiety filled introspection, he decided to call Chase. Surely, Roger would be sentenced to death or life in prison for his crimes. Ultimately, fear of the consequences drove him to pull out his phone along with Chase’s card. Ethan dialed Chase's number, only to be sent directly to voice mail. "Agent Ramsey, this is Ethan Harper. I think I found the man that you're looking for. You know, the online pedophile that might be connected to Thomas. Please get back to me as soon as possible so we can talk." As soon as he ended the call to Chase and reached for the ignition to start the car, Roger exited his apartment, as if God was urging him to continue on his path of vengeance. He noted that Roger walked out of apartment number 113 on the second floor. Seeing the bastard's face in person knowing the things the creep

had done, and imagining Renee locked away in a dungeon, his vengeful emotions came flooding back. Why not at least follow him and see what he's up to? Ethan ducked down low as Roger walked down the staircase and toward his truck with text books under his arm, unaware that Ethan's eyes followed him with every step he took. Once in his truck, he drove out of the parking lot and down the road, driving past the Escape. As soon as the truck past his vehicle, Ethan sat up and started the car, quickly making a U-turn to begin his pursuit. Roger traveled fifteen miles, all of which Ethan made sure to keep at least two cars length between their vehicles, before pulling into the parking lot of an elementary school where he parked his truck. Ethan parked across the street once again, spying on Roger as he walked through the gate surrounding the school and disappeared among the buildings. Looking around, Ethan realized that the rest of the parking lot was empty and that Roger was alone. The parking lot was large with roof coverings over a majority of the parking spaces. Roger's truck was parked far enough away from the road to obscure any clear visibility that witnesses might have. Several trees were scattered around the parking lot to aid in concealment as well. Disgusted and shocked at Roger's profession, Ethan understood why he had chosen a teaching career. No better job for a pedophile than one where he is constantly surrounded by children on a daily basis. He could bond with and study each child that he designated as a possible victim. Ethan's heart began to pound as he made the decision that there would be no better time to attack than now. Adrenaline kicked in once he opened the door and grabbed the gym bag that concealed his tools. He hastily locked the car and jogged across the street, continuing through the school parking lot. He determined that hiding against the building Roger had to walk past to leave would be a good spot for an ambush. He crept up toward the wall, making sure that Roger wasn't already walking out. The warmth of the sun-bathed wall heated his back as he leaned against it. He

pulled the ski mask out of his bag and slid it over his head. The wool caused his sweaty face to itch. Then, he slipped the jacket and gloves on, gripping the hammer like a vice in his right hand. Standing in wait, praying to God for strength and in being successful with his endeavor for the good of all children, his undershirt and mask started to dampen with perspiration. Not just from wearing winter clothes in seventydegree heat, but also from the adrenaline that coursed through his veins. The same adrenaline that allowed him to kill Marcus and Thomas. Every second that ed, waiting became more difficult. The anticipation overwhelmed him. He had reached a point where there was no coming back from. He was fully prepared to do what was necessary, despite any negative outcome. His actions would benefit mankind. A door slammed shut. Footsteps echoed through the corridors and grew louder as they neared him. He took a deep breath, squeezing the hammer until his fingers hurt. Before Roger walked into view, he was so close that Ethan could smell his turpentine-scented aftershave. An image of a young girl's terrified face at the moment that Roger's aftershave entered her nostrils—cementing the fragrance in her memory as a symbol of rape and fear—popped into his head. He was not going to be lenient to Roger. Roger took three steps past the wall before Ethan's hammer came down on the side of his head. Roger's body fell instantly to the ground—papers fanning out in front of his collapsing body. His body was motionless and sprawled out on the cement, blood seeping from his head and soaking a few of the papers that his body rested on. Ethan took a moment to ire what he had done, while at the same time hoping he didn't kill the man. Then, he took his jacket off to place over Roger's head. He didn't want blood painting the cement with evidence of a crime scene. Becoming winded while dragging Roger to the truck, his biggest regret was not working out before the attack. After placing Roger into the enger seat of the truck, he ran over to collect all the papers that were dropped. He shoved them into his gym bag and inspected the ground where Roger fell. He was delighted that not a single drop of blood landed on the concrete, renewing his confidence in the mission.

Keeping his gloves on, but removing the ski mask, he wrapped Roger's wrists and ankles together with duct tape, then slowly drove away. Fortune was in his favor as there were no witnesses within view. After turning out of the parking lot, his plan concluded. He didn't think about where he would take Roger, as he didn't even plan for where the attack would take place. The spontaneity of the moment distracted him from the finer details. Driving aimlessly down the road, he spotted an abandoned building in an old shopping center that was deserted. He drove into the alley behind the building, out of sight from the road. Ethan got out of the truck and scouted the building for an entrance. He was parked next to a smaller structure without windows; possibly being a storage building attached to the main store. Peering through the boarded-up windows of the store, he saw tattered blankets and trash littered throughout as if homeless people were squatting there, but no one was currently present. A rusty padlock kept the storage building's door sealed. He effortlessly broke the lock with one solid swing of his hammer. Inside, he found some old wooden pallets, empty storage shelves, cardboard boxes, and a few folded metal chairs leaning against the wall. He opened one of the chairs and placed it in the center of the room. Walking back to the truck, he pulled the ski mask out of his pocket and slipped it back on. Upon opening the enger side door, Roger began moving again, spitting blood out that had run down the side of his face and into his mouth. He struggled to lift his head, looking to see who stood above him. "Who the fuck are you? What do you want?" Roger said in a demanding tone. Ethan placed duct tape over Roger's mouth and tugged on Roger's shirt with one hand, allowing his bound body to fall onto the asphalt. Roger grunted as his back slapped against the ground. Swinging the gym bag over his shoulder, Ethan dragged Roger into the building. Along the way, Roger's shirt rolled up, exposing his bare flesh to the hot, jagged asphalt. Ethan struggled to lift Roger's entire body off the ground to sit him down on the chair. After Ethan backed away, Roger attempted to free his hands and feet, but didn't struggle so much that he fell off the chair. The door was left open as it was the only light entering the building. Ethan stood

before Roger, holding the hammer and pliers in his hands. "I'm going to take the tape off your mouth. If you scream, I'm going to put the tape back on and ister severe pain. If you don't tell me what I want to know, then I'll place the tape back over your mouth and ister severe pain. It's a rather simple concept," Ethan said, his voice stern and threatening. "Nod your head if you understand." Roger nodded his bloody head, so Ethan pulled the tape off his mouth violently. "Fuck you! That hurt like hell. Who the hell are you? What did I do to you?" Ethan stared into Roger's eyes, conveying to him how much he was despised. "It's not me that you did something to. I'm here because of what you did to Kathy, the little girl you had kidnapped to be your plaything. And that poor fifteen-year-old you paid to have sex with. And honestly, any other child whose life you've destroyed. How many have there been, exactly?" Roger stared right back at Ethan, displaying little evidence of fear. Roger spit blood on Ethan's shirt. "Oh, shit. You're that social worker that killed poor Thomas. I saw you on the news. You really ruined my plans that day, too. You have no idea how I desperately longed to slip my cock into that beautiful—" A solid thud sound followed Ethan's fist as it connected with the side of Roger's jaw. Roger spit out fresh blood. "—mouth. She had an adorable mouth. That's just the beginning, though. I haven't even started talking about her tight—" The sound of a nut shell being cracked open interrupted Roger the second time, the source being a hammer slamming against his kneecap. "—fuck! You son of a bitch. Her tight pussy. I haven't stopped thinking about that sweet little pussy since the moment I laid eyes on her." Fiery rage took hold of Ethan. He didn't hesitate to place tape back over Roger's mouth and grab the index finger of Roger's right hand with the pliers. He held Roger's finger out by clamping the pliers down on the base knuckle, squeezing them as hard as he could to prevent Roger from pulling his hand away, and then placing it down on the stack of wooden pallets next to them. Holding Roger's finger out with pliers in one hand, he swiftly swung the hammer with his other hand.

The hammer head crushing Roger's finger against the wooden pallets produced a cracking sound much like the one Roger's kneecap had made. Roger's scream was muffled by the duct tape. He screamed in three bursts, then began gasping for air to catch his breath. Ethan let him suffer for a moment, then ripped the tape off his mouth again. "I would suggest you keep your fucking mouth shut unless you’d rather answer my questions more carefully. Trust me, I would take pleasure from doing this all day long, you piece of shit." "Ah. . .ah. . .okay." Roger looked down at his throbbing, red finger. It had already begun to swell twice its normal size and was not as straight as it used to be. "I don't have an exact count of how many anymore. I kept track when I started, but I’ve lost track since then. Each one is like the first, now." "Bullshit! That's exactly what guys like you do. How many innocent children have you taken advantage of?" "Look, I don't keep mementos of all the children, just the special ones. I don't have an exact count anymore. In the ballpark of about thirty, I suppose." Ethan punched him again, this time straight in his mouth. He could feel Roger's lips split open as they were compressed against teeth. The pressure from Ethan's fist was like the pressure from an over inflated balloon, bursting to release air it couldn’t contain. The difference being that Roger's lips released blood that began trailing down his chin. "You fuckin asked!" Roger said, snarling like a perturbed dog. "I know I did. Let's continue. Are you attracted to boys and girls? What crimes have you committed? " "I might be a sick bastard, but I'm not like those Catholic priests. I'm only attracted to girls, dickhead. As for the latter question, you don't really think I'd confess my crimes to you, do you?" "If you don't tell me, then I'm going to make you suffer more. When I've entertained myself long enough, then I'll kill you," Ethan said, giving him a look of assurance.

"I'm not fucking stupid, Ethan. You broke the law when you murdered Thomas, and you're going way beyond the law right now. You have every intention of murdering me. Hell, I should be asking you about your crimes. We have more in common than you think." Ethan stepped closer to Roger, grabbing his broken finger with the pliers again. Roger moaned in agony. "You're right. I plan to kill you. My crimes, they're not crimes at all. I'm doing what's best for the children. The world won't miss Thomas. . .or you. God has been behind me every step of the way. That's the difference." "I'm not sure the courts will see it quite like that, Ethan. At best, that might help you plead insanity. Having conversations with God is not considered all that sane. If you don't let me go, you'll regret it." Ethan laughed in Roger's face. "Ha, you've got me all wrong. I have zero regrets. You know why? Because my actions are justified. Now, I'm going to use the pliers on your teeth if you don't answer my questions." "Fine. There was this dramatic teen a few years ago. You know the type, those kids that listen to Punk music and feel sorry for themselves. She put up a hell of a fight, so I was forced to kill her. I hid her body and no one is the wiser. She was sporting that whole teen-angst, Goth look, so they figure she ran away. Then, there was this other little girl, and I mean little. She was about six I think. Anyway, her mother caught us together, so I made her watch. Actually, come to think of it, I made her in. Taught them both how to treat a man." Ethan couldn't listen to Roger's stories anymore. He wanted to be pushed over the edge and that's exactly where he found himself. He placed Roger's taped hands on the pallet, then commenced repeatedly hammering away at them. Swing after swing, one splintered bone after the next. Roger bellowed as his hands were pulverized by the hammer. By the time Ethan had finished wielding the hammer, Roger rolled off the chair and shielded his hands by tucking them into his abdomen. Exhausted and mentally shaken, Ethan crouched down near Roger. "What else do I call you? Any other alias' other than Bill, Sam, or Roger." Roger looked up at Ethan, grinding his teeth together as he dealt with the pain in

his hands. "I use Jason every now and then, too. You should consider yourself lucky, Ethan, because everyone else knows me by only one name." Looking into Roger's vindictive eyes, while portraying a mutual feeling with his own stare, Ethan stood up, casting a shadow over Roger as his body blocked the light from the doorway. "My last question. Where did you hide the body of that girl you murdered? And I want the location of any other bodies you may have hidden." Before Roger could answer, a long shadow cast into the room. The shadow was a silhouette of another person standing in the doorway. As Ethan turned around to see who it was, the individual quickly ran away. Leaving Roger suffering on the floor, Ethan ran out of the shed in hot pursuit. The man was most likely homeless, evidenced by his unkempt hair, weathered and dingy clothing, and the pungent odor that Ethan inhaled while giving chase. The vagrant retreated to the large building where Ethan ended his pursuit. "You stay the hell out of here! If you're smart, you'll keep your mouth shut, or I'll do the same to you, buddy!" Time was short. Maria had expected Ethan home hours ago and he had attracted too much attention in the abandoned shopping center. He decided to bring an end to the interrogation while marching back into the storage room. Unsuspectingly, a metal chair slapped against Ethan's head, knocking him off his feet. "Ah! Shit!" Roger screamed, dropping the chair as the vibration from hitting Ethan excruciatingly rattled the broken bones in his hands. Ignoring the pain, Roger kicked Ethan several times in the stomach while he lay in a compromising position on the floor. "You fucked up big time, Ethan. You should have stayed away from Thomas, and you sure as shit shouldn't have come after me. I'm not going to kill you now. No. I have a much better way of making you suffer. I'm going to make you wish you were dead," Roger said. Ethan looked up, now in the same position he had had Roger in, only to see Roger's foot swinging toward his face before becoming unconscious. Roger ran out of the building and carefully climbed into his truck. He started the ignition using the index and middle fingers on his left hand with his thumb and pinky on the right, as they were the only bones still intact. He gripped the

steering wheel with those same fingers and drove away. Once Ethan regained consciousness, squinting his eyes as they opened due to a splitting headache, he nervously looked around the room for any sign of Roger. Relieved that Roger had left, Ethan noticed the taste of blood in his mouth; that or Roger had shoved a penny down his throat while he was unconscious. Ethan reached up and felt his swollen, left cheek. Touching it sent a jolt of pain straight to his pounding headache. He hoped that his cheek wasn't fractured. Even his eye socket throbbed, so he assumed that it was probably turning black and blue. He rose to his feet and walked out of the dark room, into the vanishing sunlight. He had lost track of time during the whole confrontation. The afternoon was almost over and Maria was surely going to have a lot of questions. Looking over to see that the truck was gone, Ethan accepted that he would have to walk back to his car down the street. His car was a good mile and a half away, which he was in no shape to jog. The walk would allow him another hour to invent a believable excuse.

CHAPTER 18

Pulling into his driveway, Ethan shut off the car and sat in darkness for a moment. There was no valid excuse for his ghastly appearance or hours that he was uned for, short of claiming he had been kidnapped. Immediately after shutting the front door, he expected to hear Maria's voice within a few seconds, and not in a pleasant tone. Of course, he was correct. "Where the hell have you been?" Maria asked, shooting up from the living room couch. Her infuriation was obvious because she didn't bother pausing her favorite home renovation show that she watched religiously. It only took one moment before she noticed the damage to his face. "Oh my God, what the hell happened to you?" "Calm down, it's really not as bad as it looks." However, it felt exactly as bad as it looked. His head was pounding, cheek throbbing, and his stomach was painful to the touch. He already knew what his face looked like because he had looked in the rearview mirror as soon as he returned to his car. His eye socket hadn’t swollen up, but it did morph into black and blue shades. His cheek was red and swollen, while his nose remained intact. The metallic flavor in his mouth had not gone away as blood continued to seep out of his lower lip, ever since he regained consciousness at the storage building. "I'll calm down when you tell me what you've been up to? You've been gone for several hours, and now you've returned looking like someone tried to kill you. Are you going to be on the news again?" she said, pointing at the television. Renee was leaning over the back of the couch with a concerned look on her face. He could only imagine what she was thinking, seeing her father battered and bruised. He walked over and gave her a big hug. "Are you okay, Papi?" Renee asked. "Yes, honey. I'm alright. Don't be scared."

"You can change the channel and watch cartoons if you like, Renee. Your father and I need to talk for a moment," Maria said. Ethan released Renee from his grip, kissing her on the forehead and sitting her back down on the couch. He then followed Maria, who marched anxiously into their bedroom. Once in the bedroom, he held Maria's hands in his and looked sympathetically into her eyes. He wanted to downplay the situation, but couldn't lie to her either. "Okay. I didn't go to the office today. I went out to follow a man named Roger Williams. I first witnessed this guy leaving the home of that teenage girl who was pimped out by her mother. Turns out, this is the same guy that dated Kathy's mother. He helped Thomas kidnap her and confessed to me that he is a serial, child rapist." She expressed her confusion and anger by pulling her hands away from his grasp. She sat on the bed, bewildered. "You're saying you confronted this man? Why not call the police, Ethan? You're not a cop." "I know, but, I don't trust the system. I've seen day in and day out how the system works. Sometimes justice is served, but most of the time it isn't. I just couldn't live with myself if this creep were to only receive a few years in prison. He's committed several crimes that he most likely wouldn’t confess to if arrested. Those children and families that he has tainted deserve justice just as much as anyone else. I knew that I could get him to confess." "Wait, so what are you telling me? Are you saying that you attacked him?" She stood up from the bed and threw her hands up into the air. "He could have killed you. Don't you think Renee and I are more important than some selfish vendetta?" He became angry because she wasn't seeing the situation in the same way that he did. "Of course you two are more important, but you don't know exactly what this guy has done. You haven't heard him talk about the crimes he's committed. He shows zero remorse, and on top of that, he takes so much damn pleasure in it. Once I saw him in person, I couldn't resist making him suffer. Shit, his existence in itself is causing many people to suffer. Most of them children." "Look, Ethan, I can understand what you're feeling, but please come back to reality for a second. Despite your intentions, you're talking about attempted

murder. A crime. Not to mention, did you forget that you have killed two men already?" Maria began to tear up, which she tried to hide by placing her hands over her face. "I'm scared about what's happening to you, Ethan. I married a man that wanted to save lives and families, not commit crimes and kill human beings. You've gone too far. This job is tearing you apart, which will inevitably end up tearing this family apart." He knew exactly what she was talking about as he had realized the same thing before. He had let his emotions control him. He couldn't handle the atrocities he had to witness as a social worker anymore. At least not in a logical and lawful manner. She dropped her hands, revealing tears running down her cheeks. "What happened to him?" "He got away from me. But he won't say anything about what happened because he knows I can connect him to Thomas and Kathy." "What the hell, Ethan! Are you telling me this sociopath is out there holding a grudge against you? You put our family in danger!" Ethan raised one finger to his lips. "Keep quiet, dear. We don't want Renee to get upset. Everything is going to be okay. I’ll explain everything to agent Ramsey tomorrow. I'm going to take care of this. I don't want to lose you two. You're both my reason for living." He laid his head on the top of hers while giving her a hug, noticing very little reciprocation. "We don't want to lose you either, honey. You need to do something about your job," she said. "What am I supposed to do otherwise? You want me to quit and go back to school?" "I want you to be normal again. I want you to stop surrounding yourself with all this tragedy and suffering." He squeezed her tighter. "I will. I'll figure something out. I promise things will get better." Maria pulled away from him and hurried into the bathroom. "Your dinner is in

the microwave. Go eat and make sure Renee is all right. She's been wanting to see you all day. I'll be out in a minute." Walking into the kitchen, he could hear Renee cracking up while watching silly cartoons. She hadn't even noticed she was alone in the room. "What are you laughing at, goofball?" he rhetorically asked. She was so engaged with the television that she didn't even hear him. "Earth to Renee! The stinky girl sitting on the couch!" She finally heard him and turned with a frown on her face. "I don't stink, thank you very much!" He laughed and set the cooking timer on the microwave. While waiting for his food to heat up, his cell phone began to ring. Picking it up, he noticed that Chase was calling. Having forgot, he finally ed calling to report Roger earlier in the day. "This is Ethan," he said when answering the phone. "Mr. Harper. Sorry to disturb you in the evening, but I just wanted to ask if you could come down to the precinct tomorrow and tell me about your new information? Sorry about not getting back to you earlier, but I was busy with another raid that took place this morning," Chase said. "Oh, yeah. It would be no problem. I've got some business in the morning, but I'll try and swing by just before lunch." "Sounds good, Mr. Harper. We'll talk tomorrow then. I can't wait," Chase said, sounding unenthusiastic. As he put the phone down, the microwave beeped. He didn't notice the beeping sound because his nerves were shaken as he began questioning what he would tell Chase. He had no idea how lenient the agent was, and guessed that the FBI didn't mess around." "Are you going to get that, Dad?" Renee said, pointing to the beeping microwave. "Oh, yeah. Thanks, honey." He reached for the microwave and pulled out a plate of Chile Verde. The aromatic steam emanating from the plate entered his

nostrils, kick starting his appetite. He didn't bother to sit down before shoveling the food into his watering mouth. While inhaling his dinner, he tried to maneuver the food along the right side of his mouth in an effort to minimize the amount of pain caused to his split lip and shredded cheek. It took much of the enjoyment out of his wife's cooking. He had cleaned his plate within a few minutes, followed by taking two pain relieving pills. To prevent upsetting Maria further, he washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. During which, he noticed Renee's eyes slowly closing as they became heavy from drowsiness. Once finished in the kitchen, he sat down next to Renee and placed her on his lap. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed tight. "I missed you today, sweetie." "I missed you too, Papi. What happened to you? Are you all right?" "Of course, honey. I just got into a little fight with someone at work. Everything is okay now." "I wish you didn't have to work tomorrow. I've been waiting to play Memory with you all day." He ran his hand across her forehead, then slid his fingers through her hair. "I missed you, too. We can play when I get home from work tomorrow. And I was also thinking, we should go see that Disney movie that just came out. You know, that one you've been wanting to see?" Her eyes stayed closed as he massaged her scalp. "I would like that, Papi," she said, voice trailing off as her brain began powering down into sleep mode. "I love you, Papi." He leaned over and kissed her smooth forehead. "I love you too, Mooshoo." Shutting out the background noise from the television, he looked down at her, iring the adorable daughter that he was grateful to have. Despite all the ugly, dark evil in the world, her angelic innocence could wipe it all away from his mind temporarily. Sitting with her put him at ease, making him feel invincible.

He began to envision the holiday season. While two months away, Christmas would be upon them in no time, and he already couldn't wait to see her face light up on that magical morning. The excitement she experienced impatiently waiting for Christmas morning because of the magical belief that Santa would visit while she slept always made him feel like a child again. He always felt that the single most important benefit of being a parent, is seeing the world through your child's eyes. He shared her emotions, vicariously reliving his own memories through her. Good fortune being that he was able to provide her with a memorable childhood while re-experiencing his own past; a time when life seemed much more simple. The only unfortunate aspect is that while every child is in a hurry to grow up, every parent equally longs to be young and naive again. He could only do his best to help her enjoy and appreciate how precious childhood is. Every time he allowed his mind to wander, unpleasant thoughts were sure to materialize. He began to imagine all the children that didn't get to have a childhood. The ones that were forced to experience adult situations that no child should ever have to, like all Roger's victims. Those children were never given a chance to enjoy childhood, and would be scarred for life because of it. But even more heartbreaking, were the children lost to the world. The ones that were mistreated and abused to the point of no return. They didn't just lose a childhood, but an entire life of moments and memories that define existence. The most painful losses bared by loving parents that had their child taken from them. Ethan thought back to an elementary school shooting that had happened earlier in the year, where several young children were mercilessly murdered for no logical reason at all. He imagined how their parents must feel, not just around the holidays, but every day of their lives. The same thoughts must cross every parent’s mind, such as how they were robbed of witnessing their child grow an inch taller, feeling the warm embrace of a loving hug, listening to a child’s bellowing laughter, or the comfort that comes from cuddling their peacefully sleeping youngster. The thought was so painful to imagine, tears began to pour from his eyes, dripping on the top of Renee's head. He squeezed her tighter and looked up toward the heavens, praying to God that nothing bad would ever happen to his

baby girl. Of all the emotions he had dealt with, the loss of his own child would be truly unbearable. He could not imagine how parents even survived after such an ordeal? Becoming aware of his surroundings, he looked over and saw Maria standing next to the couch. He looked into her eyes, conveying that he understood what was most important. As much as he wanted to be a savior to every endangered child, he refused to continue down the same aggressive path that he had been travelling at the expense of his own family. "I'm so sorry, honey," Ethan said. Maria sat down and wrapped her arms around them both. "I love you both so much, I don't want anything to happen to you." "I know. I can't keep doing this to myself anymore, either. It's too painful. I'll tell Lin tomorrow that I need to put in my notice, until I figure out what I'm going to do instead. I love you, Maria. I'm truly sorry." She wiped his tears away with her thumbs. "I know you are. I love you too. With all my heart. Let’s go to bed, honey." Ethan carefully carried Renee to her bed and gently placed her down. Pulling the covers up to her neck, he leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Goodnight my precious girl. Sweet dreams, and don’t let the bed bugs bite.” After brushing his teeth, he climbed into bed next to Maria. She lightly kissed his lips, attempting to avoid causing him any unnecessary pain. “Good night, honey. I love you.” “Goodnight, babe. I love you, too,” he said while pressing his head back into a memory-foam pillow. The pain in his face and head finally began to subside as the relievers took action. As far as he could tell, he became completely unconscious within a minute. Ethan had a vivid nightmare as he slept. He found himself watching television while Maria and Renee were in the back yard planting some flowers. The sun shone brightly and the greenery was as vibrant as ever. He questioned his motives for sitting inside alone.

Maria looked equally gorgeous and sexy in a white, lace trimmed dress that flowed above her knees as elegantly as her hair flowed in the breeze. Renee was adorable in her favorite yellow dress while planting a yellow daisy in the planter. They were both quite angelic. His greatest fear commandeered the dream as Roger jumped over the brick wall that separated their backyard from the street outside of their neighborhood. Roger had a knife in his hand that he used to reach over Maria’s shoulder and stab her in the heart. Blood dramatically squirted from her wound as she fell to the ground. He struggled desperately to get up from the couch and run to their aid, but he was moving in slow motion. Even his screams were muted to a low humming sound. He was forced to watch helplessly as Roger picked up Renee, who screamed for her Papi to rescue her, and leaped back over the wall. By the time he reached the wall, they were nowhere in sight. Feeling helpless and devastated, he broke down crying. Looking over at the ground, he noticed Maria’s body had completely disappeared. Unable to make any sense of what had just happened, he was traumatized by the lack of control he had. All that he could think about was how his family was gone forever because he had strayed from common sense to start a war with Roger. It was all his fault. As Ethan’s mind transitioned into a lucid state, he became aware that he was asleep in the dream. Begging to put an end to the painful fantasy, he pinched himself and closed his eyes in an effort to wake himself. Nothing worked, so he could not exit the dream no matter how hard he tried. What seemed like an eternity in the dream world, was only an hour into his sleep. He finally awoke in his bed, skin clammy and sheets damp from perspiration. He looked over at Maria sleeping beside him and sighed in relief at the realization that he had been dreaming. Lying in bed, he prayed that nothing bad would happen to his family. He swore to himself that he would not let anything happen to them and that he would do whatever it took to put Roger away for good—even if that meant accepting the fate that Chase would decide for him.

CHAPTER 19

Ethan pulled into the parking lot just before eight in the morning, parking in the empty space next to Lin's car. He had arrived early to have a heart to heart with Lin, who probably wasn't going to take his decision well, considering that she acknowledged him as one of her best social workers. The cloudy and overcast sky was a direct representation of his mood, a stark contrast to the pleasantly sunny day prior. The air was brisk and breezy, yet still not considered cold to anyone north of Grapevine, especially considering that winter was approaching. He sat in his vehicle, contemplating his day's schedule, dreading the conversations he was to have with Lin and Chase. After pouring his heart out to Maria the night before, he knew he should quit and had promised to, but wasn't convinced he wanted to stop being a social worker. However, after speaking with Chase, chances were pretty good that he may be facing some sort of punishment, probably resulting in the loss of his job at the very least. Owen arrived in the parking lot and parked next to him. The two exited their vehicles at the same time, greeting one another. Ethan was ready to be ridiculed for his appearance. "Holy shit! What the hell happened to you, man?" Owen said. "It's kind of a long story. The condensed version is that I fucked up. We can talk about it later." "Wait, don't tell me. You pissed off Maria, didn't you?" Ethan didn't smile as he was in no mood for jokes. "I'm sure you crack yourself up, pal, but do realize that very few people laugh with you." Ethan took the first steps as the two began slowly walking toward the entrance, Owen unrelenting with his self-proclaimed comedic genius. "Take a chill pill, buddy. I'm just messing with you. I'm sure there's a completely logical explanation for why your face looks like you ed a fight club. But don't worry,

I know the first and second rules." While attempting to keep pace in front of Owen, Ethan heard footsteps rapidly approach from behind them, followed by a thud sound and a moan from Owen. Immediately upon turning around to see what had happened, a swinging fist connected with the damaged left side of his face. He saw a man wearing a nylon over his head for a split second before turning his head away in pain. The jolt of pain to his face made him stagger back, but avoided losing his balance and falling down. Ignoring the throbbing pain that returned to his cheek, he witnessed the man attack Owen repeatedly. Owen lay helplessly on the ground while the assailant hit him in the back with a baseball bat, forced to curl into the fetal position to protect himself. Ethan charged at the thug, tackling the coward to the ground. While straddling him, he noticed that the assailant was Carlos Gomez. It became clear why Owen received the brunt of the attack. Using his fist like a hammer, Ethan slammed it down on Carlos's fingers that clung to the bat. As the bat rolled away, he pummeled the now submissive drunk in the face with his fists. Blood splashed from the nylon covering Carlos's face. He and Owen had both been threatened, and he was going to make sure the bastard regretted his decision to stage a sneak attack. Before Ethan ran out of breath while vigorously attempting to beat Carlos into a coma, Owen grabbed him by the shoulders to end the uncontrollable onslaught. While Carlos lay on the ground motionless at their feet, Owen reached down and removed the nylon from the perpetrator's head, revealing that Ethan was correct. "Damn, Ethan," Owen said, holding up the bloody nylon that had one of Carlos's teeth protruding from it. "You might have killed the guy." Ethan crouched down to one knee and placed his fingers on Carlos's jugular. "No. He's still alive." He looked at Owen with a shocked expression. "I'm sorry, buddy. I don't know what came over me." "What a gutless piece of shit this guy is. Do you think it would be too much if I took a picture of him to show Diego?" "Too much I think. But you could tell him that he won't have to see his dad any

time soon." John Allen pulled into the parking lot, exiting his car like the wind to investigate the scene. John wasn't very proactive as a social worker, but he could always be counted on to involve himself in his coworkers' business. "What happened here? You guys in some trouble?" Ethan and Owen looked at one another, well aware of what the other was thinking. "No, John, we have it under control. Just another disgruntled parent," Ethan said. Owen pulled out his phone and dialed emergency services. Ethan walked with John to get him moving toward the office and out of their hair. "Would you mind doing us a favor? Could you go in and tell Lin about our situation? Just tell her Carlos attacked us. She'll know what you're talking about." "No problem, Ethan. I'll go let everyone know what happened," John said. He was gleeful to be asked to spread gossip around the office. Ethan knew it would be no problem because John was going to gossip about it regardless. As much as he talked about other people's problems, he avoided any drama in his personal life. "Make sure you take care of your face. That guy really did a number on you two," John said while walking away. Out of masculine arrogance, Ethan was about to clarify that Carlos had not done any damage to his face. Biting his tongue, he conceived the idea to use the attack as an excuse for his injuries. Discovering a way to avoid imprisonment was a big relief, but now he had a big decision to make after promising Maria that he would confess to Chase. After Owen hung up the phone, Ethan approached him, gesturing for him to come in close to be told a secret. "Could you tell everyone that I got my facial injuries from Carlos? It would be a huge favor to me if you did." "Of course, buddy. You always have my back, and I'll have yours. I appreciate you stopping Carlos from tenderizing my ass." Ethan smiled, appreciating Owen's sense of humor. "Shit, man. Are you all

right? You took a bat to your back." "I'm going to have some serious bruises, but I think my back rolls protected me. Absorbed quite a bit of the force I think. He got me good in the back of my thigh, though." "You really never stop cracking jokes, do you? I'm sure Kelly really appreciates that during sex." "Actually, she loves it," Owen said, in a more serious manner than usual. They both decided to catch their breath, sitting in silence for the next few minutes as other coworkers arrived for work. They took turns repeating their story to each individual that curiously approached them until the police showed up. When the police finally pulled into the parking lot ten minutes later, they pleasantly watched as Carlos regained consciousness when the officers placed handcuffs around his wrists. The two officers lifted him to his feet and escorted him to the squad car. "Bye, Carlos. I hope you get treated in prison the same way you treated your son, dickhead," Owen said as Carlos ed by. They both shared a moment of satisfaction seeing Carlos placed in the back of the patrol car, on his way to a jail cell. "The beating was worth it," Owen said. Ethan parted with Owen when they entered the office and walked to Lin's office. "I'll see you late, buddy. I've got to have a chat with Lin," Ethan said. Lin didn't take her attention away from her computer screen when Ethan entered her office. "Never a dull moment for you, eh?" Lin said. He sat down in the chair across from her desk. "So, I'm thinking about making a career change." Waiting for a shocked response that he didn't receive, Ethan continued. "Well, I've been through a lot the past several years here at Child and Family Services, and I think I should take at least a break from the job and try something else. It's been taking a toll and me and my—" "Ethan," Lin said, interrupting him and now looking directly into his eyes, "you

can tell all your personal feelings to Janelle. I can understand your decision after everything you’ve been through. Honestly, I question my own sanity from time to time. This is a difficult and painful job. I would rather you didn’t leave because you are one of the best social workers I’ve seen. As your team leader, I just need to know if you're giving me your two-week’s notice, or if you're going to get back to work?" Even though her response was blunt, he could appreciate not having to go through the process of getting into details. "I'm giving you notice, but it might be more than a few weeks. I haven't actually decided on what I'm going to do yet." Lin focused back on her computer. Her typing became more aggressive, so he could tell his news had upset her. "That's fine. Just let me know when you've decided. I have to make sure your open cases are covered and that you brief those taking them over. I'll have to start cutting back your cases then. Well, back to work then?" He considered apologizing for upsetting her, but decided there was no reason to. He appreciated the fact that his leaving emotionally upset her. He had always felt they had a professional, but close relationship compared to other employees in the office. As he opened the door, Lin stopped him with a final remark. "I do hope you stay with us, Ethan. You're a good social worker and the children in Citrus County will be worse off without you." "Thanks, Lin. That means a lot, especially coming from you." He walked over to his desk, sat down, and laid his head over the back of his chair. What would he do other than social work? He thought about returning to his hometown in Northern California, possibly getting involved in agriculture. Growing up there as a child, he enjoyed walking through the many orchards and fields that surrounded his home. The country was peaceful, allowing him to take a break from everything and think clearly. The different aromas of wild flowers and grass throughout the air produced vivid memories, something that smog and car exhaust just weren't capable of. But, he knew he'd have to go back to school to do so. It would take time to change careers, but the point was that he'd be with his family without the stress

of being responsible for the lives of strangers. While trying to brainstorm ideas for his future, he glanced at the missing child posters on the wall. One aspect of the job he enjoyed was the investigation aspect. He felt that understanding human nature and identifying the motivations of people was his strong suit. He may be able to utilize his skills as a private investigator. Ready to get back to work, he began processing paperwork on the Copeland case, which he was supposed to have done the day before. He kept his promise and left out any mention of the alcohol she had consumed the night before. During which, he couldn't help biting his lip, swearing to himself what he would do if she was lying to him—especially if Ryan got hurt. As he finished with the monotonous grind of report filing, he struggled to decide whether to pursue the next case or to concentrate on developing his future. Watching his coworker, Michelle, exit Janelle's office, gave him the inclination that he could use the advice and guidance of a professional. He approached Janelle's office door and knocked. "Come in," Janelle called out from inside her office. Ethan entered. "Good morning, Janelle. I was hoping you had a moment so we could talk for a bit?" "I'm free at the moment," she said. "How are you doing?" He took a seat on her couch. "My wife and I talked last night, and we both feel that I've become too involved with work. I've been bringing baggage home with me and it's affecting all of us. I'm looking for a career change, but I'm not sure what else I would do?" Janelle nodded her head and smiled. "You're not the first one to tell me this. It's a common response from social workers, having been affected by the disturbing things they see so often. You'd have to be either sociopathic or completely uncaring to not be affected by it, and we both know you are neither." "What do you say to people that tell you that?"

"There's not much I can say to help. The most important thing is deciding whether or not you can keep all the drama at work, without taking it home with you. If not, do you feel it's even worth continuing to be a social worker?" "I take pride in the job. I would like to continue helping children because I've made a commitment to do so, to myself, and to God. But if I can't maintain my sanity, then maybe it's not my calling after all." Janelle's eyebrows raised. "Well, why did you become a social worker in the first place?" He sat quietly for a moment, contemplating her question. "Why does anyone get into social work? I assume it's usually for the same reason I did; To help people and change lives. I started out working with adults, witnessing their selfdestruction through alcohol, drugs, greed, and selfishness. After a very short time doing that, I quickly came to the conclusion that I wanted to help children." "Do you have a harder time empathizing with adults?" "Maybe, somewhat, but I don't think that's it. The way I see it, adults make conscious decisions to ruin their own lives. Some being able to overcome their problems, while many others aren't. But with children, their lives are ruined before they even have a chance to start living. Oftentimes, because of those adults I just mentioned whom have zero concern for their children's well being. Someone needs to fight for those children. That's why I am a social worker and why I work with Child and Family Services." "You sound like someone that knows exactly why they do what they do. So, what exactly has caused you to question your current position in life?" "I've seen too much. Just like a soldier on the battlefield, there comes a time when you've seen too much and every soul destroying, tragic, unimaginable sight begins to change who you are. I feel like I'm becoming a monster myself, no different than the disgusting human beings I have to deal with on a daily business." "Well, how exactly are you changing? Is this about the two men whose deaths you're responsible for?" "It's my nightmares, my thoughts, and even some actions. So many of these

abusive parents have me wanting to take matters into my own hands. I hate them and what they do to their children, because as a parent, I couldn't even imagine most of the things I've witnessed them being capable of. When I get home, I can't get the images out of my head." She seemed surprised by his confession. "You appear to be dealing with those strong feelings very well. I'm a little surprised to hear how distraught you've become. Based on our last few meetings, I figured you were dealing with all the trauma you've experienced quite exceptionally. But, if this is how you truly feel, I would agree that you may need to find a new job that would bring you more pleasure and less stress." "Yeah, that's why I came to talk with you this morning. I was hoping you had some advice as to what I should pursue?" he said, lifting his hands palms up and tilting his head in bewilderment. She smiled and acted as if she had discovered the perfect solution. "You could go into psychology! You've got the education under your belt having become a social worker." Ethan tried to hold back from laughing out loud, but could not contain a few chuckles. "That's true, but I don't really want to hear about the problems that other people are having either." "I'm not really sure how else I could help, but maybe you could just get out of field work and do a job behind the scenes. One that requires much less interaction with the victims. Whatever you do decide, I'm sure you'll be successful, Ethan. It's been a pleasure talking with you over the years, and I sincerely hope I've helped you during your time here." Ethan smirked. "Of course you have. I may not have lasted this long without you. And trust me, I was skeptical before our first session. You've been a pleasure to open up to." Janelle stood up and reached her arms out, initiating a hug. Though he felt a little awkward embracing his therapist, Ethan wasn't about to turn her down, so he stood up and tried to not make it dramatic. As their hug ended, they just stood looking at one another for a few seconds. "Well then, have a good day and let me know if you need anything else," she

said, breaking the awkward silence. He looked down at his watch while leaving Janelle's office, confirming it was time to go have a chat with Chase. He had just enough time to grab a sandwich for lunch before heading to the precinct. Eager to get the conversation over with, he hastily grabbed his keys and phone before leaving the office. Approaching his Escape, he was appalled to find that his tires were flat. Kneeling to look closer, he found a horizontal slice in the wall of the tire about three inches wide. After checking the other three tires, he identified the same puncture marks on all four. He also checked the cars parked next to him that weren't damaged, so it was simple to conclude that it wasn't a randomly vandalized. Knowing that Carlos had been taken into custody by police, only one other person could be responsible. Roger was demonstrating how serious he was about his vendetta, probably expecting Ethan to become paranoid. He had made it clear that Ethan was going to regret picking a fight. Despite the turn of events, he did not forget about the important meeting with Chase, so he went back inside the office and asked Owen for a ride. "Owen, could you help me out? Someone slashed my tires. I need to grab some lunch quick, and then I have to go down to the police station to talk with the FBI," Ethan said. Owen's eyes grew wide. "F. . .B. . .I . . .? What have you gotten yourself into?" He lifted his wrist to show Owen his watch. "The car ride would be a good time for me to explain, but we need to go now if you want to eat." "You bet your ass I want to eat!" Owen said, pulling his keys out of his desk. Never had he seen Owen so giddy, practically jogging out to his Prius, which Ethan was slightly embarrassed about climbing into. Once inside and their seatbelts were fastened, Owen shifted into reverse. "All right, let's hear it." Ethan nodded and took a deep breath. "Okay. So, that Thomas guy that I killed, there may be a chance that he would have survived until the paramedics arrived. Maybe."

Owen looked over at him in shock. "No way! Are you serious, dude?" "Did you see everything that this guy was capable of? He did attack me, but I got the upper hand. After talking with him, I knew he showed no remorse and could never possibly change. I really couldn't stop myself. Rage just completely took over." Owen shook his head. "Damn, man. I don't know what to say. I mean, I can totally understand it." "So then, I figured out that a man named Roger was the man that helped Thomas kidnap Kathy, and her mother used to date the creep. Not only that, I saw this fucker coming out of the house where I helped that teen who was being prostituted by her own mother. So clearly, this guy is as sick as they come. I decided to case his apartment." Owen, for one of the few times in his life, was completely speechless. He only looked ahead at the road in front of them, processing the incredible story he had just been told. "Then I fucked up. I took it upon myself to punish this guy, but he got away from me. Now—" "Hold on," Owen said, interrupting him mid-sentence. Then he parked the car outside of a deli. "This psycho is on the loose? Obviously, this guy is the one that slashed your tires. You need to go to the police." "That's what I'm going to do right now. Agent Ramsey works on a specialized FBI task force. I'm just not sure how to tell him yet." "I'd like mine on wheat, turkey, and pepper jack, with everything but onions," Owen said, looking off into the distance. Ethan raised an eyebrow even though Owen wasn't looking at him to notice. "I helped save your ass back there with Carlos, but I still owe you a sandwich?" Still refusing to look at him, Owen just nodded his head. "Fine!" he said, climbing out of the car.

Once he returned with the sandwiches, Owen finally looked at him. "You know I'm an accomplice now? Not only that, but you have your family to worry about. You've got to tell this Ramsey guy about Roger before it's too late." "Look, I know I'm in too deep, but we might be talking about jail time. I committed some serious crimes. Even if I don't mention the murder, I could be charged with kidnapping, attempted manslaughter, and maybe even obstruction of justice." Chewing rapidly to swallow a mouthful of sandwich, Owen coughed, nearly choking. "I understand that, but you are in some serious danger. What's the alternative? You go on a personal manhunt to kill this guy?" After finishing the bite he had just taken, Ethan tilted his head and raised his eyebrows to Owen's insinuation. "I'm pretty sure I can get this guy." Owen reached over and slapped Ethan on the side of his head. "Come on, man. Come back to reality. And consider for a second who is telling you such a thing. Even I think this is crazy, and dangerous." Ethan set his half-eaten sandwich down on the wrapper. "I know, I know. I swore to Maria and myself that I would come clean. It's the only real choice I have." Owen started the engine again, leaving the deli parking lot and heading to the police station. They sat in silence for the rest of the drive, allowing both men time to think. Looking out the window, watching the city streets, buildings, and pedestrians left behind in a blurry streak, Ethan thought about being taken away from his family for an undetermined amount of time. Most likely years of life being forfeited, leaving Renee without a father and Maria without a husband. He couldn't do that to them, but was he just delaying the inevitable and maybe even making it worse by waiting? He could not find the courage to confess. Not when hotheaded Carlos had given him the perfect alibi for his injuries. Arriving at the precinct, Owen parked in the parking lot and shut off the engine. "Okay, man. I'll be waiting for you. Good luck in there." "You're a really good friend, Owen. In all honesty, I don't think I've ever respected you as much as I do right now," he said. Knowing how dramatic he

sounded, Ethan couldn't resist adding some levity. "Now that you've entered adulthood, my job as a parent is complete." Owen rolled his eyes and shooed Ethan away with his hand. "I hope you do some hard time." Ethan exited the car forcefully, pretending to be angry. "Too soon, man."

CHAPTER 20

Nothing could be more irritating than the persistent stinging of a canker sore. Every time Ethan moved his mouth, he could feel both his shredded cheek and blistered lip. He couldn't help but tongue the wounds—causing himself further pain that would relieve the stinging sensation for a few seconds afterward—as he quietly sat waiting for Chase to question him. He had imagined being in an interrogation room with Chase since the first time they met, and it was based solely on what he had seen on television. He pictured a dark room with one bright, swinging light above his head, making the darkness around him impossible to see through. He could only make out a couple of figures, threatening him to confess to the crime he allegedly committed. In all actuality, the interrogation room he was escorted to was completely opposite of what he had imagined. The room was bright, illuminated by multiple fluorescent lights that did not flicker. He sat in one of two folding, metal chairs located on opposite sides of a folding table—the same cheap furniture he had seen in a school gymnasium or wedding hall. The walls were painted in the same boring, white paint that he detested in hospitals, and the room lacked a typical two-way mirror that he had imagined was in every interrogation room. He knew it was probably because this wasn’t a typical interrogation. He wasn’t placed under arrest and hadn't been accused of a crime, but rather had called Chase himself, prior to making the rash decision to take matters into his own hands. Now he would have to make a choice. He could either tell Chase the truth about Roger and that he had attacked him, or lie in an effort to protect himself from serving time in prison. In any case, it was imperative that Chase sympathize with him in the event that the truth was to come out. He sat waiting for about five minutes until the door opened and Chase stepped into the room. His posture shifted from slouching to sitting more upright and alert, while his heart picked up pace and sweat glands commenced production.

Chase's blank and emotionless expression quickly changed to surprise with his eyebrows raised as he laid eyes on Ethan's face. “Whoa. You look like shit buddy,” Chase said with a smirk on his face, sitting down at the table facing Ethan. He placed a folder on the table and opened it, eyes scanning over the paper on top. He wasn't sure what Chase was reading, or what the folder pertained to for that matter. Like any guilty criminal would experience, his nerves were rattled. His only response was to be humorous. “Trust me, I feel like it too." Chase looked back at him with a straight face, as if he was waiting for another response. "Well, what happened to you?" Ethan wanted to get the truth off his chest. The words confessing his actions against Roger were on the tip of his tongue, nearly spilling out between his lips. Fear of being torn away from Maria and Renee overwhelmed him, causing him to lie once more. "A disgruntled father attacked my coworker and I this morning. Luckily, we were able to apprehend him before either of us were seriously injured." "Ah," Chase said as if it was completely understandable. "So, you were involved with that, too? Interesting how prominent you are in the crime plaguing San Raul. Wonder what you did in a past life to deserve this?" He couldn't tell if Chase was being serious or sarcastic. He refrained from smiling and kept the inside joke—that his actions in the current life were most likely the cause. "I don't know, but it makes you think." "We've arrested four more individuals that were connected with Thomas's porn ring, but still no further leads on who the co-conspirator is. So, I had you come down to help me with that. You did leave me a message claiming to know who the man is, did you not?" He had spent all morning trying to come up with a logical excuse, but any partial reasoning he had come up with completely vanished from existence as he was put on the spot by Chase. Like any criminal being pressed for an alibi, he said the first thing that came to mind. "Yeah, about that. I was going through my previous cases the other day, and I noticed one guy that fit the profile, so I got overzealous and gave you a call. After going over it several times in my head, I

now realize there isn't all that much evidence to it." The left eyebrow above Chase's eye raised. "Well, it can't hurt to take a look at the guy. Why the change of heart?" "I jumped to a conclusion based on my emotional response. There was this pedophile case I worked on a year ago. Blake Reeves was molesting his daughter, but we couldn't get her to it it and there was zero evidence. Well, at least concrete evidence viable in court. But I witnessed the only evidence I needed to confirm my suspicions. The poor girl was terrified of the man and showed no affection for him. Luckily, the mother at least took her away from him. I the little girl looking quite a bit like Kathy, but that's all I have to go on. I hope I didn't waste your time?" Perspiration began to form along the hairline on Ethan’s forehead, his heart pounding in his chest hard enough that he was surprised Chase couldn't hear it. He anxiously watched Chase's expression to see if his excuse was believable. He feared what would happen if Chase didn't accept it because he had no other excuse, at least not a remotely logical one. Chase's eyebrows sloped downward as his forehead wrinkled. "It can't hurt to take a look. I actually appreciate the help. The last thing we want is this guy running around out there, hurting more children or recruiting other kidnappers." Sighing in relief, he could not shake the surreal feeling he had. The consequences of his actions and lies had been postponed yet again. Postponed rather than avoided because he would never feel completely absolved of his sins, no matter how much he tried to justify them. One thing was true of consciously knowing one's self had committed a crime, and that was guilt would never forsake you. His only reaction was to smile. "Hopefully it helps. Lord knows that man isn't innocent." Chase began speaking in a serious tone. “You should really take a vacation or time off from work, Mr. Harper. I fear that you might be overwhelmed and taking responsibility too personally." "What do you mean exactly?" he said, confused.

"I have looked over your records from the last several years. You’ve been involved in some serious shit, Ethan.” Anger replaced his nervousness as Chase degraded the unsettling and serious events that he had experienced because of the verbiage chosen. Scowling, he responded, “I would say that’s an understatement, Mr. Ramsey.” “I apologize. I just mean that you have witnessed and experienced some traumatic events. You were involved in altercations with an abusive father and child abducting cannibal that resulted in their deaths, you lost a child who was murdered by his father after having a mistrial, and you have rescued various children from abusive households. Based on your record of work hours, I'd say you spend too much time at work and could use a vacation." "I work hard because it's my job. The children rely on m—on social workers to save them from their heinous situations." “Look, I can imagine how you feel. I’ve only had to fire my gun twice in the field; once actually killing a man. But I have seen some terrible crime scenes. Things that I’ve had nightmares about on occasion, and some have even made me sick to my stomach. I just know how involved you can become. I don't want you making any bad decisions. You seem like an honorable man, but even honorable men can cross the line." “Why does this feel like you might be trying to accuse me of something?” Chase put both of his hands up signaling Ethan to calm down. “Whoa, Sir. No need to get so defensive. I asked you to come down here because I wanted to know more about this guy you were talking about, from the voicemail that you left me mind you." “I’m sorry. I’ve been pretty stressed lately is all,” Ethan said. "That's my whole point," Chase said, standing up from his chair. Ethan stood up once Chase opened the interrogation room door and held it open for him. Walking down the hall to the front door, he stopped and turned around when Chase made one more comment. "I'll follow up on Blake and let you know if I find anything. I hope you'll be out

of state relaxing somewhere when I speak to you next," Chase said. Ethan gave him a confirmation nod and exited the police station. As he stepped outside, his eyes began to burn as they were exposed to the thermal rays of the sun; more so than usual because of the soft fluorescent lights that had calibrated his eyes inside the precinct. The sunshine emboldened his confidence. While walking toward Owen's car with squinted eyes, he raised his arm to shield his retinas from the vibrant beams of light that only seconds later were subdued by dark clouds. That confidence he was feeling quickly turned into a sense of regret, ri from deep in his gut. Even though he had succeeded in manipulating Chase, he felt like his choice may not have been the correct one. Was he only delaying the inevitable, or would he get away with murder yet again? There was nothing else he could do now, short of walking back into the precinct and surrendering himself to fate. Climbing into the Prius, he could feel Owen staring, waiting in anticipation to hear what had happened after confessing to an agent with the FBI. Ethan looked straight ahead and acted as if everything was fine. "We're good. Let's get back to the office." Owen continued to stare at him, unwilling to accept such a nonchalant answer. "What do you mean we're good? What happened? You didn't tell him, did you?" Looking ahead through the windshield, he noticed small raindrops speckling the glass. Thinking deeply about what his next move would be, he became mesmerized by drops that merged together, forming a larger droplet that slid down the glass, leaving a streak of water behind it. For a short-lived moment, he was at peace. He finally decided to turn and face Owen. "Look, man. I couldn't do it. I don't want to be taken away from Maria and Renee. I don't think I deserve to be punished for taking matters into my own hands. These disgusting human beings that we have to deal with all the time, they don't all deserve the benefits of our justice system. You know as well as I do, Owen." "I completely understand where you're coming from, but this Roger guy is still out there. What the hell do you plan on doing about him, Ethan?" He could see how concerned Owen was, but he didn't have an answer to that

question yet. "I don't know yet. I need to find him before he comes after me, though. I guess I'll have to start with his apartment, and I could call around to the nearest hospitals and see if anyone's had several broken fingers set recently?" Owen shook his head with disapproval. "It's one hell of a mess you've gotten yourself into. I'll do anything I can to help, bro. You, Maria, and Renee are like family to me." "Thanks, buddy. I appreciate that. I've always thought of you as my half-retarded brother." After Owen started the car, he turned on the windshield wipers, wiping away the droplets Ethan had focused so hard on. "Ready to go get a new set of tires?" "Yeah, let's head over to the tire place and pick some up so I can change them before it gets dark." Owen drove out of the police station parking lot and onto the main road. The two of them sat in silence as there was nothing left to talk about. Ethan just looked out the window and watched the rain pick up, bombarding the Prius with hundreds of drops per second. The sound of the drops landing on the roof and windows reminded Ethan of his wedding day, when dozens of people threw handfuls of rice at them while climbing into a limo. Vibrations began traveling through the seat of Ethan's pants, shaking off the drowsiness that was slowly overtaking him. He had placed his phone on vibrate before meeting with Chase. Pulling out his phone to see who was calling, no name was displayed because it was an unknown caller. Being in no mood and assuming it was a salesman of some sort, he answered the call ready to tell the individual off. "Hello, this is Mr. Harper." "Good afternoon, Mr. Harper. How has your morning been? Get your tires fixed yet?" the voice said. He sat up straight in his seat, alert and nervous because he recognized the voice on the other end. "I'm still working on it. What the hell do you want, Roger?" "I'm glad you recognize my voice. Makes me feel so special. I just wanted to call and tell you how impressed I am with your home. Simple, yet elegant. Your wife

is quite sexy, too. Do I detect a little Latin flavor?" Roger said, followed by a maniacal laugh. "Don't worry though, I'm more interested in meeting your delectable daughter." "Don't you fucking touch them!" he shouted. Startled by his shouting, Owen turned the wheel and pulled over to the side of the road. "What do you want, Roger? I'll do whatever you want, just leave my family alone." Ethan pressed the phone against his chest. "Owen, drive to my house, now," he said before placing the phone back to his ear. "Come on, Ethan. I told you that I would make you regret attacking me. You should have known not to fuck with me, and now you will." "If you come anywhere near them, I will tear you apart," Ethan said in desperation, feeling completely helpless. "I'll let you do whatever you want to me." "Don't worry. I'm not finished with you yet. This is only the beginning," Roger said before hanging up. The receiver went silent. "Roger? Roger!" He received no response. Panicking in the enger seat next to Owen, he couldn't avoid becoming hostile. "Drive faster, dammit!" "I'm going as fast as I can, Ethan. We're five minutes away!" Owen shouted back. Ethan used his phone to dial Maria's number. As soon as she answered the phone, he began talking before she could give a proper greeting. "Maria, get Renee by your side and call the police, now. Stay on the line with them until I get there. I'm just a few minutes away." "What are you talking about? Are we in danger?" Maria said, sounding dismayed. "I think there's a man outside. Whatever you do, don't answer the door," he

demanded. "Renee!" Maria shouted. "Get over here, now!" "Is Renee with you yet?" "Yes, she's here now." Ethan heard a knock on the door in the background. "Shit, you're right, Ethan. Someone's at the door," she said, her voice shaky. "Just don't answer the door and stay on the line. I'm right down the street, honey." Approaching Ethan's neighborhood, he had line of sight of his house, but it was surrounded by a six-foot brick wall. The entrance was around the block, so it would take another one to two minutes to arrive. He became anxious because his backyard was only a few feet away. Maria and Renee's screams echoed out of the cell phone as the knocking in the background turned into a violent banging. "I think he's trying to break in!" Maria said. Ethan's heart skipped a beat and a sense of desperate urgency overwhelmed him. Thinking quickly but illogically, he reached over and grabbed the steering wheel, yanking it so that the car steered into the brick wall. He pressed his foot down on top of Owen's to accelerate faster. Before impact, he used one hand to pull Owen's head down as he himself ducked low. The Prius smashed through the wall, crushing the front end like an aluminum can and shattering the windshield into one large spider web of tiny glass shards. Both the driver and enger airbags inflated, thrusting both men back against their seats. The vehicle rolled to a stop on the lawn as the force from the wall severely slowed their momentum. Ethan felt a stinging sensation on the right side of his face, immediately after the airbag deployed. He could also taste the blood that began to seep out of his lip, a wound reopened by the impact. Looking over to the driver's side, he could not see Owen's face because it was obscured by the airbag, but he was conscious and

opening the door to get out. Ethan climbed out of the car as fast as he could, running toward Maria and Renee as they came running outside. "What the hell just happened?" Maria said. Ethan wrapped his arms around them both. "I couldn't waste any time. I thought Roger was inside already. I just imagined how it would only take a second for him hurt you guys or take you, so I couldn't wait another second to drive around the block," Ethan said, trying to catch his breath. "He didn't come in. I think he's gone." Owen stood over the hood of his car, struggling to comprehend what had just happened. He slowly looked over at Ethan. "Dude. What the fuck was that?" Ethan curled his lips inward, making a popping sound as his mouth opened. "I'll fix it, buddy. Promise." Everyone stared in awe at the hole in the wall that the Prius had made, then they turned toward Ethan. Maria was the first one to break the shocked silence. "I'll call the police." Ethan gave Owen some space, allowing him time to examine the damage that his car had sustained. While Maria was on the phone with the police, he marched toward the front door, fuming. Throwing the door open, he scanned the neighborhood for any sign of the disturbed son of a bitch. The only thing he found was a large, orange envelope that had been left on his porch. Reaching down, he slowly and carefully picked the envelope up by the corner, discovering that it was light as if nothing were inside. Hesitantly, he reached his hand in and pulled out a child's pair of panties. He uncomfortably placed it back in the envelope and dropped it on the porch where he had found it. Now was the time. He had fought hard to keep reality at bay, but with the police on their way and a vengeful sociopath on the loose, the truth needed to be told. He couldn't blame just one stupid mistake on his current predicament, but rather a series of bad choices fueled by the demented and evil people he had dealt with

during his crusade to save all children. If his actions were no better than the crimes against humanity that those individuals committed, then he couldn't see it. As Maria finished her call to emergency services, Ethan pulled out his phone and called Chase. "Agent Ramsey, this is Ethan Harper. I need you to come to my house so that I can speak with you. I haven’t been completely honest with you, and I need to tell you the truth." “It’s about time, Mr. Harper. I’m on my way,” Chase said, refraining from asking any questions over the phone. Ethan didn't realize he had been that obvious, but then again, Chase was an FBI investigator. While Chase would decide his fate in life, God was the only one that could judge him after death. He regretted some of his actions, but still felt that everything he had done was in the best interest of the children. Now, he needed to protect his own family at any cost.

CHAPTER 21

The rain hadn't let up, continuing to pour down on Chase's car. Ethan sat in the back seat, his hands cuffed behind his back, looking out the window as Maria and Owen were questioned by police officers. Chase sat in the front seat, glancing in the rear-view mirror at his suspect. "What have you told the officers that arrived so far?" "I told them I was waiting for you and that I wasn’t going to give any statements to them. So they put me in handcuffs in the back of their cruiser until you arrived," Ethan said. "What are your wife and coworker telling them right now?" "They're just saying how some stranger called me and threatened my family. No specifics." Chase slowly nodded. "Well, would you like to tell me what's really going on then, and perhaps why you drove a car through a brick wall? "I'm sorry that I lied to you. No offense, but I thought that it would be best if I handled this guy on my own. I found Roger, the accomplice that helped Thomas kidnap Kathy. He was one of the men that her mom dated for a short time, one of the men that you said you had looked into. He's got several different names by the way. Sarah knew him as Bill." Chase reached up and adjusted the rear-view mirror to see Ethan better. "How did you put that together? I couldn't find anything in the background check for that guy," Chase said at a loss. "I was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time. I witnessed a man leaving Hannah's house the day that I found her daughter. You know, that degenerate mother who pimped out her daughter? Well, I wrote down his license plate number so that I could give it to police, but I forgot to during all the drama with Hannah. After that incident, I visited Sarah because I was curious about her ex-boyfriends. I figured one of them had to be connected to Thomas. Why else pick Kathy for kidnapping? As luck would have it, I recognized Roger as the

guy leaving Hannah's house." "You should have called me, Ethan. I could have caught this guy and put him away." "I did call you. I wanted to tell you, but when I saw Roger in person, I couldn't help myself. I wanted to make him suffer for everything he's done. Look, I know I put you in a difficult position, but—" "I'm not in a difficult position," Chase said, cutting Ethan off. He turned around to look Ethan in the face. "That child raping bastard is on the loose. You obstructed justice, but at the same time, you also helped me advance my investigation by identifying this son of a bitch. I've been trying to catch this guy longer than you, Ethan. I know what he's capable of, so trust me when I say that he disgusts me as much as you." "But I attacked a man and held him hostage," Ethan said. "I've become a vigilante." "And the last time I checked, no one has filed charges against you." Chase got out of the car and opened the rear door, helping lift Ethan out of the car. He stood close to Ethan and spoke softly over his shoulder. "I'm really saving your ass here, so you owe me big time. The only thing that I ask is that you never step outside of the law again. You have to follow the law and the procedures required to do your job. If you step out of line like that again, I can't help you . . . nor would I." The rain fell lightly in the soft breeze, enough to dampen Ethan's hair and what little hair Chase had around the sides of his head. Most of the raindrops bounced and rolled off the top of his smooth head. He turned Ethan around to unlock his handcuffs. "You're responsible for the deaths of two men. I don't care if they really are accidents or not, but if they aren't, I suggest you find a new career. This can't go on," Chase said. "What's the next move, Agent Ramsey?" "You are going to stay out of it for one thing. I'm going to broadcast Sarah's

picture of Roger all over the national news. If he has any other victims, which I would bet my life on, they'll see that he is being hunted for crimes of child exploitation and come forward because they aren't alone. At the very least, we'll get parents calling in concerned that he was around their children. We're going to smoke him out of any place he could possibly hide." Ethan rubbed his wrists, realizing that handcuffs were quite uncomfortable. He thanked God for keeping him out of them long term. "He's probably going to come after me again." Pointing at the police cars in Ethan's driveway, Chase smiled. "Don't worry, I'll make sure there's a patrol car in front of your house for at least the next couple of nights. I'm pretty confident we'll catch this asshole within forty-eight hours of plastering his picture all over television and the internet." "You'll keep me updated with any information that comes in, won't you? Personal courtesy and all." Chase shrugged his shoulders. "I'll let you know what I can. I'll be in touch. Stay out of trouble. Take a few days off work, and this time that’s not a suggestion." As Chase walked back to his car, Maria walked up behind Ethan and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Is everything going to be all right, honey? I'm not going to visit you in prison?" Turning around to hold her head in his hands, he gave Maria a ionate kiss. Feeling her soft lips against his and their tongues intertwining, he regretted not being ionate more often. He would have beaten himself up over that regret while stuck in a prison cell. Ethan ended the kiss, allowing themselves a moment to breathe. "Everything is going to be better than all right. I can't stop saying how sorry I am for not being the husband that I always should have been. I'm an idiot." Looking up at him, Maria's eyes became glassy, displaying both fear and sadness. "I know why you've been distant. I can only imagine how hard it has been to keep all your true emotions bottled up. We'll get through this. All that matters is that we have each other. Your daughter and I need you more than ever."

"I know everything's going to be all right. I won't let Roger hurt us." They both turned around when hearing Renee giggle to see Owen tickling her. Ethan walked over and patted Owen on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it. We'll get her fixed up. In the meantime, I'll take you home in Maria's car. I can go get the new tires for my Escape alone." One of Owen's eyebrows raised in response to his plan. "Dude, I'll help you with the tires. You need a driver for both cars, anyway." "Thanks, buddy. I didn't want to ask after what I just put you through." "Don't be ridiculous. It was pretty exciting after the fact, plus you're paying for the damage. The fact that I didn't have to pay to have those dents in the front bumper fixed is a bonus," Owen said. "Glad I could help. I'll give Lin a call and let her know the situation. She's probably wondering where the hell we're at." "You're kidding, right? Lin trusts us not to be slacking off. I'd bet she's not worried at all, not to mention you're her pride and joy," Owen said, laughing out loud obnoxiously. "Keep it down!" Ethan said, holding his cell phone to his ear, "It's ringing." "Ethan, is there a problem?" Lin said. "Hi, Lin. A man connected to Thomas threatened my family, so I had Owen rush me home. I already talked with the police, so everything is under control. I just need to ask for a few days off, after all." "I'm sorry to hear that, Ethan. It seems like everyone is out to get you. Anything I can do to help?" Lin said. "I wish you could, trust me. The time off will give me some time to think, anyway." "Take however much time you need. I'll put Owen on your cases until you return. Don't forget that I'm here to help if you need it. Please be careful."

"Thank you, Lin. I'll keep you posted on what's going on," Ethan said. By the sound of her voice, he assumed that she had finally realized how much stress he'd been under. Cognizant of the fact that his own choices and actions were responsible for his current predicament, there was no question that being surrounded by so many disturbed individuals was also fate. He never stopped believing that God had guided him down the treacherous path that he had walked, and that he was the only one in a position to save children from such demons. Watching Renee laugh with Owen, and taken aback by Maria's beauty as she stood in the rouge light cast by the sun setting, he officially determined that his time as a social worker for Child and Family Services would soon be ending. "All right, buddy. Let's go get some tires before it gets dark," Ethan said. Before he could get into the car, his phone rang. The caller was unknown, so he knew exactly who it was. He answered the phone lividly. “You sick motherfucker! I told you not to go near my family. I’m not afraid of your bullshit anymore. You’re going down. I’m talking life imprisonment, but hopefully the death penalty.” “So, you found the balls to confess your sins after all? That was a terrible mistake. I was hoping we could settle this like men discreetly, but now I am forced to jump directly to my last resort. No matter what you may be thinking, I can promise you, this is the hard way,” Roger said in a menacing tone before hanging up. An eerie chill ran through his body. He had no idea what to expect, but had confidence that Chase would catch the man before he could do any more harm. Just in case, he decided that they would stay in a hotel for a few nights so that Roger would have a more difficult time finding them. Climbing into the Escape, Owen looked over at Ethan. “Are you okay, man?” “Yeah, we’ll be fine. It was that bastard again trying to threaten me. He has no idea how big the manhunt is going to be for his ass. They’ll catch him,” Ethan said, partially doubting his own assurance. Maria and Ethan sat on their living room couch, Renee laying across their laps

sound asleep. The television's volume was barely audible, only heard in complete silence. Closing in on eleven o'clock, their television show was about to end on a season finale cliffhanger, at which time Renee began snoring, overwhelming the volume of the TV. "Maria, could you turn the volume up just a little bit? We're going to miss the ending," Ethan whispered. "Uh, I thought you had the remote," she whispered back. To his dismay, the control was still on the entertainment center. Luckily, the show cut to a final commercial break. Slowly lifting Renee's head off his lap, being careful not to wake her, he tiptoed over to the television and raised the volume. A news alert came on between commercials with Roger's picture displayed across the screen. "There's that son of a bitch," he whispered to Maria. "That's the guy you told me about? He looks so normal." "That's the problem with reality. Movies have you believe that all the creeps have some physical deformity and are social pariahs. Not the truth most of the time." Looking into Roger's eyes once again, he wished the worst punishment he could imagine for the man. Earlier in the day Roger had had the upper hand, knowing that Ethan would be reluctant to involve law enforcement. Now, a manhunt was in full effect. With Roger's phone and digital s being tracked, there was nowhere to run. He prayed that Roger hadn't left the country already. Quietly walking back to the couch, the ring tone on his cell phone began echoing through the living room; an annoying cacophony of drums and symbols, chosen to ensure that a call or text would not go unnoticed. He swiftly ran into the kitchen to grab his phone from the counter. "Hello, this is Ethan." "This is Agent Ramsey. I'm sorry for calling so late, but I wanted to let you know that we searched Roger's apartment. His computer was missing, but it didn't look like he took much else. We'll be keeping eyes on the apartment in

case he returns. We also received two reports about him. One mother from Oregon is concerned because her daughter disappeared during the time that she dated Roger, whom she knew by the name Jason. And another woman claims that her fourteen-year-old daughter hasn't been the same since she dated a man named Bill, around the time the girl was only eight years old." "Wow. That's great news . . . I mean, not that there's other victims, but that you've got quite the case to bury this asshole," he said, forgetting to whisper. "Shh," Maria hissed over her finger at him, having forgotten that his daughter was sound asleep. "Sorry," Ethan silently mouthed. "It shouldn't be long before we catch this guy," Chase said. "I appreciate the update. I'm glad my efforts can bring some form of solace to his victims." "I'll be in touch. Have a nice evening, Ethan." "You too, Mr. Ramsey." After ending the call, Ethan placed his phone on vibrate to avoid any further interruptions. Turning back to the television, he was disappointed to see the show's credits. "How did it end?" Maria shrugged her shoulders. "I was focused on your conversation. Maybe someone will decide we should an actual DVR cable box. Every other civilized American has one, probably for situations a lot like this one." Ethan raised an eyebrow while frowning to let her know how unimpressed he was by her sarcastic remarks. "You know, there was a time when I found you being a smart-ass amusing. I guess it's been a while since then."

CHAPTER 22

"Look out, Renee!" Ethan shouted. As she turned toward his voice, a foam football bounced off her forehead. "Ah, Papi!" she said, pretending to be upset, but her smile expressed the truth. "I told you not to get distracted when we're playing catch, dear," Ethan said, reminding her of a lesson he had taught. "At least you're not crying about it." She picked the ball up and threw it back to him. The football spiraled through the air like a professional had thrown it. He thrust his head into the flight path of the ball, allowing it to hit him in the forehead. "There, now we're even." Renee placed a hand on her waist and tilted her head to the side—a stance she often used when becoming sassy. "Aren't you supposed to be teaching me how to catch?" "You are your mother's daughter, dear," he said, shaking his head. Rolling the sleeves up on his long-sleeved Henley, Ethan began to perspire from playing catch with his daughter after only ten minutes of physical activity. Reaching down for the football in the grass, the soil squished beneath it as he picked the ball up. The ground was still damp from rain the day before. The sky was bright blue and clear of any clouds. The air peacefully still with not so much as a breeze; weather that beckoned Ethan to bring his family outside. While Maria was in the garage, jogging on her treill, he entertained Renee with a game of catch, yet she was more engrossed with picking flowers in the garden between each . As he cocked his arm back to throw the ball, Renee had her face down in the flower bed, smelling the few perennials that had remained alive since the Spring. Taking in a breath of fresh air, he became jolted out of his peaceful mindset by the vibrating phone in his back pocket.

Assuming it was Owen or Chase, he answered the phone without bothering to check the caller ID. "Hello?" "You really did it, you stupid bastard. You must have some serious connections, or maybe a friend in law enforcement?" Roger said. Ethan looked over the fence at the police car sitting across the street. "I'm the stupid bastard? You should probably just turn yourself in. They're probably tracing this phone call right now to get your location." "Do you really take me for a simpleton? I'm sending you a picture. I know there's a cop watching your house, so keep any knee jerk reactions under control unless you want their lives on your hands," Roger said in a threatening tone. Ethan wondered whose lives he was referring to until the phone buzzed again with receipt of a picture. Sarah and Kathy were lying on a concrete floor with their mouths, hands, and feet duct taped. Both terrified and in tears. "You motherfucker," Ethan said under his breath. "You're going to act normal. Tell your wife you have to run an errand and make sure the police aren't following you. Most importantly, stay on the line. If you hang up or I can't hear what's going on, they are both dead. After which, I will viciously slaughter your fam—" "I get it, Roger. I'm on my way now." Thinking quickly, Ethan high-tailed into the garage, grabbing a piece of charcoal from the barbeque on the porch along the way. "Maria, could you take a break and watch Renee? Lin needs me to drop by the office to take care of some paperwork." Stopping the treill in the middle of her workout, Maria looked confused as to why he would need to visit the office. He used the charcoal to write on the concrete garage floor. He wrote, "Roger has Sarah and Kathy. Have Agent Ramsey trace my phone. I love you," while talking to her. "I'm sure it'll just take an hour or so. Lin needs help placing this little girl, Emma, in a suitable foster home," he said out loud so that Roger could hear. Maria looked up at Ethan with fear in her eyes. "No problem honey. Hurry back so we can have lunch. I'm starving after running three miles."

"See you in a bit, honey." He gave Maria a quick kiss and then jumped inside his Escape. "All right, Roger. I'm pulling out of the driveway. What now?" "You're going to get on the I-12 Freeway and drive until I tell you to get off. Make sure that guard dog doesn't follow you, otherwise it's going to be one hell of a bloodbath." Ethan looked into the rear-view mirror as he drove away. The patrol car didn't move, most likely tasked to stay put guarding the house and his family. "I'm not being followed. What's the point to all this? You're going to be tried in a court of law for your despicable crimes. Why fight it now? You're lucky I didn't kill you when I had the chance." "Oh, Ethan. I've planned for this situation. What's most important right now, is that I keep my word to you. You aren't innocent in all this. We aren't all that different. I promised you would regret crossing me. I just wanted to put you on edge yesterday, but your actions have pushed me into a corner. Today will be your real punishment, and don't forget that you are responsible for bringing Sarah and Kathy into this." "You can let them go. I'm coming to you now. Don't hurt anyone else just to get to me. You're the only one responsible for what happens to them." "You know that's not true. If you would have followed the law like you're supposed to, I might be in jail already. You had to get that retribution for yourself, no one else. It back fired miserably, didn't it?" Guilt manifested inside of Ethan again, knowing wholeheartedly that he couldn't argue against Roger's last point. Just yesterday he had felt vindicated after confessing to Chase, but now the threat posed to his family had become primarily directed at Sarah and Kathy. "You should be nearing exit 94A to the 133. Take 133 for two exits and get off," Roger said. "What are you going to do with us?" Ethan said, legitimately fearful of his response.

"In due time, Ethan. Trust me when I say how excited I am for the surprise. I'm sexually stimulated by the anticipation." Ethan was repulsed by his suggestion, but had no idea what he meant by it, worried about the state Sarah and Kathy would be in when he arrived. He feared and imagined the worst. "What now? I'm getting off 133." "You're ten minutes away from Thomas's house. You're going to throw your phone into the street and get here within that ten minutes. Keep the line open because I better hear your phone hit the ground, surrounded by traffic. If you're not here within ten minutes, they're dead," Roger said. "Throw it now!" Ethan tossed the phone out the window, watching as the phone skidded across the asphalt before being destroyed by car tires. Disheartened that Chase would not be able to track him, his only hope was that Roger could be tracked somehow, but he wasn't about to keep his hopes up. Driving fifteen miles over the speed limit, he arrived at Thomas's house within six minutes. To his dismay, the street was quiet and no one was out for a walk. He hoped that a neighbor might witness him suspiciously entering the house that was unoccupied and surrounded by yellow, caution tape. He carefully stepped through the front door, looking into each corner before fully entering. The house was dark and quiet. Peaking around the corner and down the hall, a faint light in the basement projected against the wall opposite the doorway. Regrettably, he would have to enter the nightmarish dungeon once again. Standing at the top of the staircase, he hesitated to make his way down. His heart was pounding and adrenaline pumping just as vigorously as it did when he had met Thomas. He said a quick prayer to God, asking for the strength needed to stop Roger and for no one to get hurt. "Come on down here, Ethan. Nice and slow. I want to see your hands in the air, too," Roger said from downstairs. He complied with Roger's request, slowly stepping down the staircase with his hands in the air. His heart sank as he reached the bottom of the steps. The child's

coffin was gone, but the steel table was still in the basement. Kathy was restrained to the table wearing only a knee length nightgown. Roger stood next to the table, pointing a nine millimeter Beretta at Ethan with his left hand. "Welcome back, Ethan!" Roger said, smiling from ear to ear. "Is it like you ?" Kathy looked at Ethan with red, bloodshot eyes. "Please help me, Ethan," she said, desperate and vulnerable. "It's going to be all right, Kathy," Ethan told her, trying to alleviate her fear. Roger laughed. "No, no it's not, Ethan. You stay right there and don't move. I have to grab Sarah." Roger struggled to open the closet door with his three broken, middle fingers, taped together on his right hand, all while trying to keep his aim on Ethan. He lifted Sarah up from the ground, who still had her hands, feet, and mouth taped. Dropping her to her knees, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a fiveinch knife, placing the blade under her chin. Sarah cried profusely and screamed, muffled by the tape tightly wrapped around her mouth as the knife blade rested between his thumb and her neck. "Roger, please, just stop. Let the ladies go already," Ethan said, reaching out his hand. "Their survival depends on you. Now it's time for the stimulating part. Sarah and I are going to watch as you have sex with Kathy, all the way to completion, and I'm willing to bet that you even enjoy it," Roger said. The grin he had turned into a perverted smirk. Kathy closed her eyes and cried, shaking her head. "No, no, no," she whispered repeatedly to herself. Ethan's jaw dropped from being both perplexed and disgusted by Roger's request. "I could never do that. I'm not you." "I don't think you understand. If you don't, I'm going to rape, torture, and murder you all, but you're going to be last, Ethan. If you make any movements toward

me, I'll slit Sarah's throat and shoot you long before you get a finger on me. Thankfully, you left me with a trigger finger, and I can still put enough pressure on this knife to cut her throat." Both Sarah and Kathy cried uncontrollably. "You're going to kill us all either way. I know you because I've met several men just like you. None of you deserve to live," Ethan said, seething at the thought that Roger had the upper hand. He began to panic, not knowing what he would do to get out of the situation. "How dare you presume what I would or would not do. I'm growing tired of your bullshit. If you want to save Kathy's life, get over there and fuck her. I'm not going to ask again, I'm just going to end Sarah's life right now!" Roger screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice cracking from not training his vocals to reach such decibels. "I even took the liberty of warming her up earlier today. Don't thank me though, I did it for myself. It was one of the few things left on my bucket list." Ethan had no choice but to walk over to the table as Roger lifted his gun higher, pointing it at his head. His brain couldn't process any alternative course of action as his eyes spastically scanned the room for any object he could use as a weapon. To his dismay, there was no such object. "Oh, yeah. We're ready, Ethan. Put on a good show for us. You don't want to disappoint me." Standing directly in front of Kathy, he apologized. "I'm sorry, Kathy. I didn't mean for any of this to happen." "We got it already. Hurry the fuck up!" Roger said, tightening his hand around the pistol and pointing it toward Ethan's head. "Please watch over Maria and Renee while ensuring they know how much I love them. And please spare Kathy and Maria from Roger's wrath," Ethan silently prayed. Placing his hands on Kathy's thighs, Ethan wanted to give Roger the impression that he would follow through with the demands. His real plan of action was to lunge at Roger, hoping to catch him off guard and to overpower him with all the

rage he had built up for the man. Ethan pivoted on his right foot, took two steps, and then jumped toward Roger with his hands out, ready to wrestle the gun away. Immediately after his feet left the ground, he heard the gunshot as Roger pulled the trigger, generating an agonizing burning sensation in his abdomen. As he came down on top of Roger, he was able to grab the hand holding the gun, pointing it toward the ceiling as Roger fired a second shot. Roger and Sarah both fell backward as Ethan toppled them, resulting in the knife being removed from her neck. Fighting through the debilitating pain from the bullet wound, he held each of Roger's arms with his own. Although he had the advantage of being on top, Roger slowly began to overpower him because of the excruciating pain from his wound. He fought to try and slam the hand holding the gun against the floor, but Roger fought just as hard to prevent it. The gun was nearly aimed at him again until Sarah sat up and scooted on her butt over to Roger's left hand, throwing her head back on it like a hammer. Dropping the knife, the pain must have been too much for Roger, and with any luck broke more bones. With no time to hesitate, Ethan snatched up the knife and drove it down toward Roger's neck. He stopped Ethan's arm by throwing up his own, but without a hand to grab it, he just guided the knife in slower. Pressing down with all his body weight, the knife slid directly into the center of Roger's throat, slowly piercing the skin and continuing to penetrate until reaching the spinal column. The blood sprayed out of Roger's neck like a faucet, meaning Ethan had pierced the carotid artery. The blood that puddled in his neck bubbled as he tried to inhale, preventing any oxygen from reaching his lungs. The gun fell from his right hand as his body went limp. Although becoming lightheaded and dizzy, Ethan stared down into Roger's glassy eyes, taking pleasure in watching shock set in. Ethan felt no remorse for ending his life. While it was doubtful that he repented for his crimes in the final moments, he must have struggled to comprehend the events leading to his demise.

Once the life had disappeared from Roger's eyes, Ethan collapsed on top of him. Ethan's own shirt soaked in blood, he began to lose consciousness. Unable to help, Sarah and Kathy could only watch in horror, still taped up and restrained. As all hope seemed lost, the front door could be heard bursting open. Several pairs of footsteps pounded along the floor upstairs, then down the steps into the basement. Chase was the first one down the stairs, gun drawn and ready to act, followed by two other police officers. Once realizing the threat was eliminated, they all lowered their guns and two paramedics rushed over to the bloodied bodies on the floor. Chase and the other officers released Sarah and Kathy from their restraints. The officers escorted them out of the house of horrors, while Chase stayed behind to monitor Ethan's status. One paramedic pronounced Roger dead on arrival, while the other ran Ethan an IV. While he was still alive, he was in desperate need of a blood transfusion and surgery. "You guys rush him to the hospital and I'll call the coroner to pick up the dead guy," Chase said, giving an order.

CHAPTER 23

"As I began to lose consciousness, I thought for sure that I was dying. It’s hard to believe that was a month ago. Seems like just yesterday. Of course I thought about never seeing Maria again or being there for Renee as she grows up, but as heartbreaking as those thoughts are, my primary concern during those last few seconds before blacking out was how I had caused my own death. I hated myself in that moment because it was all my fault. I could have easily avoided putting myself, Sarah, and Kathy at risk," Ethan said, speaking from the heart. "There's nothing wrong with that, Ethan. Many people that have been near death have said that their regrets dominated their thoughts in the final moments. It doesn't mean that you love your family any less. There is no reason to be ashamed," Janelle said, trying to console him. "Now that I'm leaving, I just kind of feel like a failure. I couldn't handle the responsibility or pressure that comes with being a social worker. No matter how good I am at it, I just can't deal with all the trauma anymore. Be honest with me. Don’t you think that I’ve failed?" "Of course not. There is no shame in reaching a limit when it comes to anything in life. What's most important is loved ones and being happy on a personal level. You know that a continued career in social work would either destroy the person you are, or it would tear your family apart. You're asking me what I think, but you don't need me to tell you what you already know. You think you need to hear it from someone else, but you don't. Every time that we had a session together, all I did was observe and facilitate." He looked down and patted the couch. "Yeah, well, I appreciate it none the less. I'm actually going to miss this couch. It grew on me." "You know, you could come back to talk whenever you like. It doesn't have to be official," Janelle said. Ethan laughed and stood up. "I appreciate that, Janelle. But we're moving back up to Northern California. Probably back to my hometown of Chico."

"That sounds nice. Well, if you ever come back down, just give me a call. What did you decide you would do once you get there?" "As soon as I take some more criminal justice classes and get a private investigator's license, I'm going to focus on finding missing children. With the amount of people that go missing, it won’t be easy. Parents go through hell not knowing where their child is or if they’re even alive. I wouldn't wish that on any parent. I’m hoping I will be able to help." Just imagining what Beth and her ex-husband must be going through nearly brought tears to his eyes. Since Roger was dead, they probably won’t ever find Eve’s body, which means they can’t lay her to rest. He regretted not forcing Roger to tell him where her body was hidden. Janelle followed him to the door. "You take care, Mr. Harper." "You too, Mrs. Barnes. You too," Ethan said, choking up from the frog in his throat. Knowing that he wouldn't be coming back to the Child and Family Services Agency again, he knew in his heart that he had sat down with Janelle Barnes for the last time while watching her office door close behind him. As his head spun back around, his body jolted from being startled by Owen, the big oaf standing directly in front of him silently like a statue. "It's not going to be the same around here without you, buddy. Now we have to travel so far just to see each other," Owen said. Resting his forehead on Ethan's shoulder, he began playfully crying. "Oh no! Please don't go! Wha, ha, ha!" "You're going to cry for real when I leave this place, so keep putting on a show," Ethan said, pointing his finger at him. Owen handed Ethan a plastic bag filled with notebooks and writing utensils. "Here's your things. I took the liberty of packing for you." He looked through the bag seeing no sign of his coffee mug. While Owen was expecting gratitude, he instead produced an unsatisfied smirk. "Really? You're forgetting my most important possession." Seeing Owen stand there dumbfounded, he marched into the break room and

grabbed his mug, then marched straight back to Owen and held the mug out in front of his face. "I thought you knew me? I can't survive an early morning without my coffee, dumbass." "Okay. . .see. . .I'm not going to miss you being a dick," Owen struggled to say, legitimately becoming emotional. Ethan took the bag from him, giving him a one-armed hug. "You run the place now. Don't let me down. I’m leaving big shoes to fill. See you later before we leave town, yeah?" "Yeah, pal. See you in a bit." John walked up and patted Ethan's shoulder. "Sad to see you go, Ethan. You were a good guy. Now we're all going to have to pick up the slack you're leaving behind, so thanks for that." Ethan thought to himself how ridiculous it was to imagine John being the one to pick up any slack. He wanted to laugh, but didn’t want to embarass the man. Then he turned around to walk to Lin's office, but noticed she was already walking out of it toward him. "I just wanted to see you off and to tell you that we're all proud of your accomplishments here. All the children that you've helped are indebted to you. I wish you success in all your future endeavors," Lin said, sounding professional rather than heartfelt. “Can you come into my office for a minute before you go?” Unimpressed by her farewell, he was intrigued by what she wanted to say within the privacy of her office. “Sure, Lin.” Once the door was shut behind them, Lin turned around to speak before either of them could sit. “Before you’re gone forever, I just wanted to let you know that I’m aware of what really happened.” “Excuse me? Wh—what are you talking about?” Ethan said, legitimately surprised. “I’ve been doing social work for a long time. Very few in this field have had to kill anyone, especially three people. Either you’re the unluckiest man I’ve ever met, or you sought to punish these men."

“I don’t really understand. If this is how you’ve felt, then why haven’t you said anything to anyone?” he said, not denying what she had claimed. “What you did was dangerous and irresponsible. While your methods were completely against the law, they were also quite effective. I love these children as much as you, if not more. I understand why you did what you did, but I never imagined you would be capable of that when you started working here. Do you mind if I ask what put you over the edge? Was it Kevin’s death?” At first, he couldn’t find the words to respond because he was caught off guard. He thought he had pulled the shades over everyone’s eyes. Now he was beginning to wonder if Lin’s conclusion was as obvious to everyone else in the office. Owen was oblivious, but that made sense considering who Owen was. “That was part of it. I promised myself never to let that happen to another child again. I should have done something about Frank before he could take Kevin’s life. I blamed myself. Just so you know, Marcus was really in self-defense. His death was a gateway to the other two, though. It seemed so logical and simple after that. It was always for the children, Lin.” Lin looked down at the ground and nodded her head. “I see. I want you to know that I will keep your secret. You’re lucky agent Ramsey did as well. I guess I’m not the only one that can see your heart is generally in the right place. I really hope you’ll find peace in your new career. Social work isn’t for everyone. Even those that can handle it need to stop at some point.” Lin walked Ethan to the door. He stepped through the doorway and turned around to say goodbye. “I guess I can’t thank you enough, then. Thank you for being so good to me.” “I’m sad to see you go. There will be quite a void in the office without you. It would take two social workers to match the amount of dedication you brought to the office every day.” “I appreciate that, Lin,” Owen said, sneaking up behind Ethan. “I heard everything you just said.” Lin smiled and ignored him. “If you need anything, professionally or personally, you can call me. I’ll do whatever I can to help. I’m sure you’re going to move on to do great things.”

Lin reached out her hand, so Ethan shook it. Knowing that everyone in the office was watching their interaction, he figured Lin was trying to keep it professional. “And just so you know, the social workers that don’t feel any guilt over the loss of a child don’t really take this job seriously.” Lin went back to her desk and sat down as the door shut in front of him. He turned around to face Owen. “Dude, get the hell out of here already. This place won’t fall apart without you,” Owen said, urging him to quit lollygagging around. “Bye, pal. See you soon.” Ethan looked around the office as he walked toward the exit, questioning if he'd really miss Child and Family Services. While he had accomplished many great things there, it was also the one place where he could not escape all the disturbing, violent, and soul crushing memories that would continue to torment him if he remained. Stepping through the front door for the last time was quite a relief. The heavy amount of responsibility that he had placed on his own shoulders had finally been lifted. At the same time, he couldn't help but feel like a recreant for abandoning the children he knew still needed saving; catch-22. He refrained from looking back as he walked through the parking lot to his car, inhaling the morning air triumphantly with confidence that he would continue to help those in need. He had no intention of investigating cheating spouses or political scandals as a private investigator, but rather missing persons. Primarily in an attempt to prevent and end child exploitation. He had made sure not to leave any loose ends. Having found homes for most of the children, Camryn and Tina were the two girls that still had challenges ahead of them. Camryn was doing well in her group home, on the verge of turning eighteen and being prepared to live on her own. Tina had started rehab and therapy, but would have to struggle with the memories of her exploitation throughout the rest of her life. Despite how awful all the children had been treated, they survived and overcame

adversity unlike anything their peers could imagine. That makes them stronger than the average child. He ired that in a time when even adults were entitled and easily offended. Ethan drove away from Child and Family Services with a heavy, yet rejuvenated heart. Having survived several deadly encounters, averted a prison sentence, and kept his family intact, he recognized that he now had a second chance at life. A fresh start as if he had just graduated high school. Before he could begin his new adventure, he had one last stop to make before heading home. As he drove down Sarah’s street, he quickly identified her house because of a sign in the yard warning reporters that they were not allowed. He parked next to the curb and walked up to the front door. Knocking on the door, his hand shook. He was nervous about Sarah’s reaction to seeing him again. As painful as it was, he decided he couldn't move on without apologizing to her. When Sarah opened the door and saw him standing there, the smile on her face transformed into a scowl. “What do you want, Mr. Harper? Kathy has been through enough.” He expected her to be angry. Having broken the law by attacking Roger, he had put Sarah and Kathy in danger. He was solely responsible for Roger taking them hostage and abusing Kathy. He didn’t stop by her house expecting forgiveness. “I’m sorry to bother you one last time, Sarah. I’m leaving the agency and moving out of town. I couldn’t leave without telling you how sorry I am. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I never meant for you two to get hurt,” Ethan said with all sincerity. Sarah’s eyes began to tear up. “Kathy suffered worse than just being hurt. I was very disappointed that you could be so careless with our safety. Someone in your position should know better.” “I didn’t consider the consequences of my actions affecting you both. Taking out a personal vendetta against Roger is the biggest regret of my life. I’m honestly very sorry that you were both involved. I just hope that you receive some solace from the fact that he’ll never be a threat to anyone again.”

“You’re right about that. I feel much better knowing he is dead, but he has already affected our lives. There’s plenty more men out there just like him that we have to worry about. Nothing will ever be the same after everything Kathy has been through." He bowed his head and crossed his hands behind his back. “I know. I’m sorry for bothering you. I just had to say goodbye.” Defeated, yet satisfied with his attempt, he turned around and walked back to his car. As he walked away, the sound of the door shutting that he expected to hear didn’t come. “Ethan!” Sarah said, causing him to turn around. “Thank you for saving our lives.” Without waiting for him to respond, she shut the door. All he could do was accept her response as a resolution. Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed Maria. "Hello, honey. I've said my goodbyes and I just left the office for the last time, leaving behind all the darkness with it. But I’m taking with me all the victories that I had as motivation to move forward. I can't wait until we hit the road, babe. It will be good for all of us." "I'm excited too, dear. I'm also very proud of you. Despite everything, you're a good man with a good heart. I'm lucky to be married to you. In all honesty, I've never doubted you. I love you, Ethan," Maria said. "I love you too, Maria. See you in a few." "Hurry, honey. I'm only lounging around in my lingerie for another half hour before I have to pick up Renee from school." "Say no more," he said, hanging up to sprint for the Escape. Once he was in the car, the obnoxious ringtone on his phone went off again, alerting him to a received text message. Elated that Maria had presumably just sexted him a licentious photo, he pulled his phone back out, nearly fumbling it onto the floor had his reflexes not engaged, allowing him to catch it with his other hand.

To his dismay, the text was not from Maria, but rather an enemy with whom he was not yet acquainted and whose number was blocked. "You've caught my attention, Mr. Harper. Consider yourself lucky. I wish you success in your new career field." "Who is this?" Ethan texted back. He waited in silence, the suspense making him nervous. Very few people, other than those in the office, knew that he was changing his career. Was it a final prank by Owen? The ringtone sounded as one more text was delivered, and Ethan looked down to read it. "Saint Nicholas."

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About the Author

Having spent most of his life in Northern California, Joshua Flasch found a love for writing while in the U.S. Army. After ten years in military intelligence, he ed his father's fertilizer business which allows more free time to write. He writes in many different genres in the hopes of entertaining all kinds of readers.