Daylight had just broken through the windowpane. With rays of light bleeding onto the bedspread, I lied there having been awake for quite some time.
Sleeping was difficult these days. My conscience had suddenly emerged from the depths of my body and was working overtime, after having been locked away for so many years.
It also didn't help that my conscience had manifested itself into Maria and my son.
My son.
That still didn't roll off the tongue. I found myself almost hesitating to say it aloud. I hardly spoke of my family to my coworkers. My need for privacy trumped trying to form a semblance of a normal man. It was starting to raise some brows. In fact, for the first 3 months of my employment with Tulsa PD, they thought Maria was figment of my imagination.
For a second, it crossed my mind that perhaps I was imagining her, and it threw my psyche into a tailspin. It made me question whether I was sane or not. However, the moment she went into labor, she gripped my hand so hard that she fractured one of my fingers. I couldn't deny she wasn't real then and that this actually was happening, we were having a baby.
Two weeks after the birth, three of my coworkers dropped in on me to say hello. Southern hospitality they called it. The truth was probably along the lines of figuring out whether I actually did have a wife or whether I was losing it out here.
So much for keeping my family hidden.
Jordan, the baby, had just begun sleeping in his own room, and while Maria was fast asleep, I still couldn't catch a wink.
Maria had taken our time together to treat me. That was the issue with being married to a psychiatrist. She used every opportunity to dive deeper into my psyche. She knew me better than anyone, and I hated that.
After all these years, what I had done suddenly made me feel guilty. It seemed like a stain on my past, and made my stomach shrivel up at the thought of skinning and stuffing the girls. Whenever Maria was near me, it was almost hard to breathe because just the sight of her magnified my guilt. But when she was gone, my mind settled on the truth. I had saved those girls from the trenches of society. They'd been loved and cared for like they should be. This wouldn't have been accomplished unless I had taken them. Maria just couldn't understand that. Maybe one day I could make her see.
Maria shifted onto her side and let out a little sigh.
She looked peaceful. I should wake her.
I reached out, just about to touch her shoulder when a loud brisk knock rattled the front door. Maria's eyes flew open. Redness was inked across the whites meaning she actually hadn't slept much.
There were only two kinds of people that knocked on the door like that, girl scouts, and the Feds.
Maria jumped out of bed, yanking the closet door open. Tucked in the back were emergency bags in the event that we were ever caught.
I rolled out of bed and pulled her away with me down the stairs. There was no need to panic.
We reached the door together and I turned the knob pulling it back.
The Feds.
Now she could panic.
She gripped my forearm getting weak in the knees. Maria hadn't lost all the baby weight yet, so she was a little on the heavy side. I wouldn't be able to hold her weight and mine.
Two men in suits were standing on our front porch. They flashed their federal IDs and badges and came in without permission.
Well, this is how it ended.
YOU ARE READING
The Mistress: Book Four in The Doll Collector Series
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