Authors: Jean Baker
Duncan pulled into the driveway and groaned. “Marty’s here and look, Baby’s loose.” He jumped from the truck and ran while yelling at Harvey. “Get Baby in the paddock.”
In one bound, his feet hit the porch. Duncan vaulted inside and stopped, fear ripping through his gut. Naked, Goldie lay in a fetal position, blood around her head. Disheveled, Marty staggered toward him, wild-eyed, waving a large knife. Duncan backed out the doorway. “Come get me you sick son-of-a-bitch.”
Once Marty stepped onto the porch, Duncan spun; his foot arched through the air and kicked the knife-bearing arm. As the knife skittered across the porch, he grabbed Marty’s wrist, yanked him forward, flipping him onto his back. Frenzied, Duncan straddled his chest and pounded his face. Blood sprayed, but he didn’t stop. Someone pulled at his arm and yelled, “Stop! Stop, you’ll kill him!”
Duncan looked up into Harvey’s horrified face and sobered. “Oh, God, Goldie! Tie this bastard up and then come in the house.” Before turning away, he kicked Marty with all his strength between his legs. Narrowing his eyes, again his foot connected with Marty’s genitals. He wiped his bloody hands on his jeans, ran inside, and knelt by Goldie’s battered body. After he checked her jugular and found a strong beat, he jerked the cloth from the table. Seated on the floor, he cradled her in his arms, and covered her body. “Sweetheart, please look at me. Open your eyes, I’m here now and you’re safe.”
Harvey rushed in and saw Goldie in Duncan’s arm, her face bloody and battered. He grabbed the kitchen wall phone. “I’ll call Billy.”
Goldie cried out, her voice garbled, “No. Please no. I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”
“It’s okay, darling, I’ll take care of you.” He turned to Harvey. “Where’s Marty?”
“Last I saw, he crawled in his car, crying like a baby.”
“Bloody bastard.” Duncan felt his jaw might break from clenching his teeth. He wanted to go after Marty, but Goldie needed him. “Harvey, would you hang around a bit in case I need any help?”
“Yeah, take your time.”
Duncan scooped Goldie up and walked to the bedroom. He pulled back the covers and laid her on the bottom sheet while she sobbed. Going in the bathroom, he wet a cloth with cold water for her face. With gentle pats, he removed most of the blood. Pulling up a chair beside her, he dropped his head into his hands. I need to calm down and use my head, damn it. She shuddered so hard her teeth clacked between sobs. Shock. This is shock. He piled a thick comforter over her, feeling helpless, and watched her slowly calm.
One arm came from beneath the covers and reached toward him. “Please hold me.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Please, Duncan.”
He laid carefully on the edge of the bed and put his arm around the bundled body. Her mouth and nose no long bled, but it worried him. “Honey, I want to take you to the hospital.”
“No. Everybody will find out.” She turned to him. “Am I ugly?”
“Goldie, your face is banged up, swollen and bruised, but it’ll clear.”
She heaved a great sigh. “I wish my Mom was here.” Those were her last words before losing consciousness again.
He carefully moved from the bed and went onto the porch where Harvey waited. “Thanks, buddy. You can go home now, but I expect the sheriff will be calling on you.”
“Ms. Goldie okay?”
“I’m not sure, but I’ll get some help out here for her. She refuses to go to the hospital.”
“Can I come by tomorrow?”
“Of course, Harvey, and thanks for standing by.”
Inside, he looked through Goldie’s address book and called Sheriff Blackburn’s office. Fortunately, he answered. Duncan gave him the rough parameters of what happened and asked if he could arrange for Goldie to be checked at home. Then he took a deep, calming breath and called her parents.
It took a couple of hours for the sheriff to arrive with a doctor, a photographer, and a detective, all females. Duncan was grateful Goldie remained unaware through the wait. He dreaded explaining to her why he’d gone against her wishes. Billy stepped out of the cruiser, his face twisted in worry. “How is she?”
“I’m not sure; that’s why I called for help.”
Billy introduced the detective and photographer as they left his car. The doctor slid from the passenger seat of an ambulance and shook hands, introducing herself and a burly driver. “Sheriff, you lucked out. I was packing up to go home. Came prepared for any exigency.”
“Dr. Deb, it’s certainly appreciated. This little girl is my Godchild and means the world to me.”
Duncan rocked foot to foot, twisting his hands. “She’s really upset and doesn’t want anyone to see her. She’ll hate me for this.”
“You her husband?”
“No, ma’am. I just love her. I let her get hurt.” He bit down on his trembling lips.
The plump, sweet-faced doctor patted his arm. “Relax out here on the porch, and I’ll talk to her. I’m experienced at dealing with situations like this, and it’s the detective’s specialty. She and I work together often at the hospital with women having been attacked.”
Everyone settled down to wait, except Billy. He went in with the doctor, but came back shortly and threw up over the edge of the porch. After catching his breath, he said, “I’m going to twist that bastard’s head off and shit down his neck.”
The women watched, wide-eyed.
“Duncan, did he rape her?”
“I’m not sure—she didn’t say—was in shock.”
“Men like that shouldn’t be able to procreate.”
Duncan shuddered. “After what I did to him, I doubt he’ll be able to.”
The doctor opened the screen and motioned for the detective. “I am ready to do the DNA swab. She will not let me touch her unless Duncan’s with her.” She gave him a doubtful look. “Can you handle it?”
Without speaking he and the detective followed Dr. Deb to the bedroom. Goldie clutched the comforter to her chin, her eyes wild. “Duncan, make them go away.”
He dropped to the edge of the bed, planted his elbows either side of her head and cradled her face in his hands. “Baby, I’m here for you.” Covering her swollen face with tender, soft kisses, he whispered, “Let the doctor do this test—it has to be done. Concentrate on my kisses instead of what she does.”
The kisses took away the tears that rolled from her eyes and within seconds the doctor spoke. “That’s it.” It startled him when the doctor requested a swab from inside his mouth. “Take the samples, detective, and wait outside.” The door clicked behind the woman, and Dr. Deb sat beside Goldie, across from Duncan. “I must be able to touch her to know if there are shattered facial bones.”
Duncan lifted away and said, “She’s ready.”
The exam quickly done, the doctor nodded in satisfaction. A worried expression crossed her face as she looked at Duncan. “Now, we need photographs.”
“Nooo!”
“Sweetheart, this must be done.” He swallowed and firmed his voice. “Do it for me.”
“You’ll never want me again.”
He fought his own tears, but managed to say, “I’ll love you and will always want you for the rest of my life.”
The doctor administered a shot of relaxant, saying, “Soon as she drops off, join me on the porch, Duncan.” She palpated Goldie’s abdomen as the photos were taken, watching her patient’s face for grimaces. She nodded in satisfaction. The two women left him rocking Goldie in his arms.
Exhausted from the trauma, Goldie soon slept and Duncan joined the others on the porch. The sheriff clapped him on the shoulder. “Son, you look like hell.”
“Feel like it. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. What happened to the doctor?”
“She needed to get back to the hospital. The photographer caught a ride with her. Here’s some medicine and a list of instructions for taking care of Goldie. After she’s slept for a while, Joanne has to question her.” He waved his hand toward his detective.
“Can’t it wait?”
Joanne crossed her arms over her chest. “No, it can’t. It’s natural for a victim, subconsciously, to immediately begin burying such memories; so the sooner we can get a statement, the better.”
“She’s very good with such victims, Duncan. And since they’re about the same age, Goldie will more easily relate to her. I’ve arranged for another officer to pick up Joanne, because I’m staying with you for a while.”
Shame overcame the pain of her body when Goldie awoke in Duncan’s arms. How could he stand to touch her? Hearing Harvey say he would call Billy increased her horror. All she wanted was to crawl in a dark hole and hide. No, no one could be allowed to see her so broken and disgusting.
She wanted to thank Duncan when he took her to the bed, but she couldn’t speak. It was a relief when he placed her on the sheet—he shouldn’t touch her—she didn’t deserve his love anymore. She couldn’t control the sobbing and, against her will, to her added shame, she begged him to hold her.
Through a mist of pain, came awareness of his sweet kisses as well as soft female voices subduing the insult of invasions of her privacy. More than anything in the world, she wanted to get in a hot tub of water and scrub her body. But she kept sliding into darkness.
The sun had dropped—light from the window was subdued. Her head exploded in pain as she turned it. Duncan! He still sat beside her. Why? I don’t deserve him. I’m dirty, dirty, dirty. Through tears, she watched him look up and smile. He arose from the chair and stood over her.
“Good, you’re awake. What can I do for you?”
She sniffed. “I thought you’d leave me.”
“Never.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Hungry? Need a pain pill for your head?”
Trying to smile, she said, “Bath. I’m so dirty. I don’t want you to touch me. I’m too dirty.”
He walked away and her heart froze, but he only disappeared into the bath. Water ran and he came back to her. She winced as he softly patted the cool cloth over her face. Trying to smile, she said, “Feels good.” The water still ran. “Forgot the spigot.”
“I’m running a bath. Ready to get up?”
Every muscle in her body screamed as she rolled to the edge of the bed. She inhaled and stood. And almost fell when her head went sideways. Duncan gasped and caught her in his arms. “Oh my God! My poor bruised baby.”
“I want to see.” She made a stumbling step towards her dressing mirror, but he held her back. “Not now. Let’s get to the tub before it runs over.” He kept his arm around her waist, but she began to gain her balance. She held onto his arms and stepped into the tub. Duncan knelt beside her and poured soap onto a bath sponge.
“Make it hotter, please.”
He turned off the cold water and let the hot run. Holding one arm, he gently soaped it, cringing at the handprint bruises on her breasts. “Am I hurting you, sweetheart?”
“No.” She snatched the sponge from him and used the force of both hands to scrub her stomach. “Please, look under the sink and hand me the scrub brush.”
When he handed it to her, it slipped into the water. Reaching for it, he yelped. “Damn, this water is going to scald you.” He turned if off.
Goldie snatched the brush from him. “Go out. Leave me alone. I have to do this myself.”
He didn’t move, but she scowled at him. “Go!”
Leaning against the bathroom door and listening to her sob became more than Duncan could take. He hurried to the porch, dropped into a chair, and put his head down. “I can’t stand it.”
Joanne asked, “What’s going on?”
Trying to control his voice, he told her. “I’m afraid she might hurt herself.”
“Okay, it’s time for me to take over. We’ll go inside and you’ll show me another bedroom for her to use and find something warm for her to wear. I’m going in with her, and you can come back out here and stay with Billy.”
Like a dead man walking, he followed her instructions. Returning to the porch, he dropped in a chair, numb. Billy cleared his voice. “Rough day.”
Duncan grunted. His chair creaked as it began rocking. The sound of a truck coming down the driveway brought his head up.
Carl Stanton eased his GMC pickup near the house and scrambled out. He reached back into the cab and brought out a grocery bag. Billy nodded, went into the house and had three tumblers, filled with ice, ready by the time Carl stepped up on the porch. Duncan dully watched as three glasses were filled with rye whiskey and ginger ale. Carl handed him one. “Drink up, son.”
“It won’t help.” He rocked and sipped. It seemed his brain had turned to cotton, but his body rang with adrenalin—the need to kill—the need to protect. Drifting, on his second glass, he became aware of Carl and Billy talking in low tones. He took a deep drink and let his head fall back to the chair.
“—and they have to be told.”
“Not by me. My brother will—”
A silence fell and Duncan became alert.
“Ex-con or not, Goldie is in love with him, and he makes her happy.”
“Yeah, that’s the gospel, but you know Susan. Besides, it’ll shock them both.”
The blood drained from Duncan’s face. His glass crashed to the floor as he leapt to his feet. “My God, how long have you known? Why didn’t you say anything?”
Sherriff Blackburn slid to the front edge of his seat. “Will you please sit down, Duncan? I can’t talk to you while you’re standing there looking like an attack dog. The minute I had your name, I ran a check.”
He dropped as if he’d been shot, and all the oxygen escaped his lungs in one long whuff. Clasping his head, he put his elbows on his knees. “I knew I should have left before this came out. Damn me! Goldie has been hurt enough. The best thing to do is leave.”
A patrol car came bouncing up the lane. The sheriff stood. “That’s Fred, coming for Joanne. I’ll go get her.”
By the time the car rolled to a stop, they stepped out on the porch. Joanne smoothed her hand across Duncan’s shoulder, and he looked up. “She’s in a much better frame of mind. I expect her emotional recovery is in your hands now, even though the woman talk proved very helpful. Make sure she wakes every couple of hours to assure she has no concussion.”
She waved to the car. “I’ll be right there.” Back to Duncan, she said, “Goldie loves you beyond belief, and if she senses for one moment this event dulls your feeling for her, it will be extremely damaging.”