Page 61 of Pose for Me
Turning toward my computer, I pull up the search engine and type in his parents’ names. I find them, but there is nothing that shows their address, just a picture of two smiling people standing in front of a large Christmas tree. The label under the picture says, “Attorney Parker Bauer and wife, Edith, Christmas party.”
“Obviously,” I mutter as I roll my eyes. “Like the fucking Christmas tree didn’t givethataway.”
Parker is an older man with stark white hair, deep wrinkles and a tan that makes him appear burnt orange. He probably used to be in great shape, but age has bowed his back a little, though he tries to appear as if he’s still formidable.
Edith is the opposite, with bleach blonde hair as unnatural as her unlined face, stiff from Botox. Her smile is wide and fake, dripping with unhappiness.
My eyes roam over the couple, and I see it—that vacant look of nothing behind their eyes. They’re empty. They’re fucking shells, and they shouldn’t have had my Lane. They shouldn’t have done what they did to him, breaking him as a fucking child.
As I scroll through the photos, I find an old picture that looks as if it’s from a newspaper. It’s Parker and Edith with a small child around eight or nine in front of them, their hands on his shoulder as they all smile widely at the camera.
Lane.
He’s smiling, but he looks unhappy, like they’ve already broken him.
They will fucking die.
“Dr. Harper,” Candice says as she raps her knuckles against my open office door. I turn to her and close the sketch pad. No one gets to see Lane like that. That’s only for me.
“Ready for me?” I ask with a bright, fake smile.
“Yes sir. The patient’s wires are ready to be removed. He looks to be healing nicely.”
The patient I did the BSSO on is back for his follow-up and wire removal, which is something I can do in my sleep.
I step into the room and smile at the man in the dental chair though my mind is still on the little boy in that picture. Something twists my gut when I recall that image, how he tried to look happy but was hurting inside.
As I discuss what I’ll be doing during this appointment with my patient, I think about how I’ll right this wrong for my boy.
I remove the wires one by one, and I imagine Parker’s eyes going glassy in death and Edith watching him die before I end her life as well.
No sketch comes to mind when I think of their murder. I won’t pose them. I want them to suffer so they can feel a fraction of what they put my Lane through.
When I’m finished with my patient, I give him more post-op instructions now that the wires are removed, then I tell Candice to reschedule my patients for the rest of the day.
After I change out of my scrubs into gym clothes, I head over to Jacob’s office. I rarely show up to his job, but this can’t wait until after work.
Jacob is at a construction site when I get to his office, but after I call him and let him know I’m here, he tells me he’ll return immediately.
He arrives ten minutes later. When he steps inside his office, Jacob rolls his eyes and after he shuts the door, asks, “Are you here to ask me to help you with another body?”
“No,” I say, and he wipes his brow in mock relief. “But I am going to kill Lane’s foster parents.”
Jacob looks at me levelly. “What did they do?” I go through the story of what Lane told me and show Jacob the picture I found online.
He hums in agreement. “Yeah, I get it. Where are they?”
I shake my head. “Not sure. I don’t know how to look up shit like that. That’s why I’m here.”
Jacob nods, the smile on his face lethal. “You’ve come to the right place. I’m not super tech savvy, but I can pull an address, no problem. Give me like fifteen.”
Exactly fifteen minutes later, Jacob sends me a text with an address. I hit the link and pull up the directions. It’s a four-hourtrip during rush hour, so I could get there in three and a half hours if I drive the speed limit. I don’t plan on driving the speed limit.
“When are you going?” Jacob asks, rounding his desk and sitting in the empty chair beside me.
“Next week, maybe. Wanna join?”
He rolls his eyes. “Hard pass. Do you know I had to get rid of those shoes I came to your place in? I got the blood out, but they were still sticky.”
