The Lion, the Lamb, the Hunted: A Psychological Thriller

try and figure it all out.” He turned to me. ‘‘‘Course, you didn’t quite figure everything out, now, did you, Nathan?”

Chapter Fifty-Three

A world I visit only at night. While I sleep.

A rundown shack surrounded by trees. An old white pickup parked alongside it. An angry storm brewing overhead.

This is how the dream always begins.

Thunderheads pick up speed, rolling through turbulent skies, casting a shadow of darkness over everything. The rain begins to fall, lightly at first, then with gathering intensity. A flash of lightning explodes, followed by a violent clap of thunder. The wind howls.

Even though I’m looking at the scene from outside the shack, I have a strong sense that inside there is chaos. Something bad is happening. Something evil.

I hear footsteps on a wood floor, someone pacing back and forth, rhythmic, like a clock ticking.

A door slowly creaks open, then slams. Next, two men’s voices. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but in the background I hear metal clanging; or is it glass? I smell something, too, something medicinal, sterile, like alcohol and gauze. Makes me anxious, frightens me.

A shadow slips quickly across the window.

Then suddenly I’m inside the shed. Laid out flat, the two men standing over me now, holding me down. I can’t move. I can’t see their faces—the room is too dark.

Something warm and wet rolls down my cheek, tickles my skin, and then I see the men’s hands are covered in blood.

I scream as loud as I can. The other man quickly shoves his hand over my mouth to muffle my cries. I can only breathe through my nose now, but it’s difficult. I feel as though I’m being smothered. The room starts spinning. I’m suffocating.

“Do it Raphael. Do it now, Damn it. Right now!”

A needle.

And everything goes black.

Chapter Fifty-Four

“It’s like a stupid fucking dog chasing after his own tail, I tell ya!” He let out a hysterical laugh, which erupted into an uncontrollable coughing fit. “All this time you been tryin’ to figure out what happened to poor little Nathan, and all this time, you didn’t have a dang clue!”

“You’re lying,” I said.

“Am I?”

“Either that or just plain crazy.”

“That, my friend, may be right, but the truth is the truth. You ain’t nothin’ but a bastard child, a whore-son. Warren ain’t your uncle—he’s your papa. And your momma Jean, well…” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “She was spreading it all over town. Wave some cock in front of the tramp and she’d fold over faster than a cheap lawn chair.” He allowed himself a short, contained chuckle. “And Warren never could keep that eleventh finger in his pants. No sir. Those two’d been carrying on for years.”

I saw white, felt light-headed, could hear my heart go racing.

“Then things got a little complicated—well, actually, a lot complicated—the day you fell and hit your head on the playground. That changed everything. Momma Jean had to rush you to the hospital when they couldn’t stop the bleeding, on account’a that disease you got. But the plot thickens. Yessir. It’s passed on by one parent. Well, Momma Jean didn’t have it. Neither did Daddy Dennis. But Warren did, and everyone knew it. And so little Nathan became a walking time bomb. Tick, tick, tick.”

The room began to spin. I closed my eyes tight, tried to get my bearings.

Bill continued. “So they had a bit of, what they call, a situation on their hands. Had to do something about it. I mean, they couldn’t risk word getting out that he’d had an affair, let alone a love child. No-siree-Bob. After all, he had a political career to think of, and she didn’t want Dennis finding out. Nope. Damage control time. So Jean and Warren made a deal with the devil.” He tipped his hat, smiled big. “That’s me.”

Breathing shallow, heart pounding in my head, I felt my whole body go warm, tried to speak from a throat as dry as wool but couldn’t force out so much as a word.

“So Warren hires me to kidnap you, take you to that whack-job sister of his. You didn’t really believe she could be your momma, did you?” Big laugh. “The woman couldn’t raise a turnip. But Warren didn’t care, so long as he could stay close, watch his boy grow up, and keep his political career from falling apart.”

Images flashed through my mind. The white pickup truck, the shack, the boy in the woods. Suddenly, I blurted out, “The thunderstorm.”

“Huh?” Bill looked at me with raised brows.

“There was a thunderstorm that day.”

Nodding, smiling. “Yep. Sure was.”

It was all coming back to me now, the dreams, the images. I wasn’t flying through the woods; I was being carried under his arm. “You tripped…or you dropped me...or…something. I hit my head on a rock. There was blood everywhere, all over the leaves.”

He pointed at me. “Bingo! And what a pain in the ass that was.”

“You took me to the shack.”

He clapped his hands together, spoke with excitement. “Right again, Hoss!”

“Do it Raphael. Do it now, Damn it. Right now!” I said, tears now streaming down my cheeks. “The needle! The damned needle!”

He shrugged. “Had to settle your ass down so we could stop the bleeding.”

“You fucking animal!”

“Now, now, Nathan,” he said. “No need to pull your britches up in a wad. All in a day’s work, partner, all in a day’s work.”

I caught CJ’s gaze and saw a pair of sad, sympathetic eyes looking back, searching mine. Then I looked at Bill and gritted my teeth so tightly that my temples began to burn. I spat my next words at him, “You did this to me! You sick—”

“Well, not exactly,” he said, looking down, shaking his head. “Not really. Technically, your momma did it. She and Warren did. Me, I was just the go-between, did all their dirty work.”

CJ said, “But Jean was the one who paid the price for it. Not Warren.”

“True. Can’t argue there,” he said, nodding. Then back to me, “And you were just their sacrificial lamb, Nathan—that’s all you was, all you’d ever be. Warren slept fine at night, like a little baby, but she couldn’t, and in the end it drove her nuts, right into the loony bin.”

“Where you ended up killing her,” CJ said.

“Had to,” Bill said, throwing his hands up. “Had to shut the whore up. Warren needed her gone. And fast.”

All of a sudden Bill glanced down at his watch, then up between CJ and me, his expression one of pretend surprise. “Criminy, would you just look at the time? Where does it all go, I ask you? I think story hour is over, kids.”

He looked at CJ. She glared back at him.

“‘Course, I wouldn’t mind a little pre-execution bonus right about now. Nope. Not one bit.” He walked up behind her and pushed his crotch up against the back of her head, began thrusting against it, giggling like a