TOC ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 6:
Hidden Monsters
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
October 7, 1999 9:00 AM
Metropolis County Morgue, Metropolis
Dr. Elizabeth Forrest turned away from the latest body and gave Lois and Clark a half-smile. "With the ten-car pile up on the freeway and the apartment fire the day after, we've had a backlog of cases in the past few days, so that's why it's taken so long to get to this."
Henderson leaned against the wall. "What can you tell us, Beth?"
Beth uncovered the small body before answering. "The killer is getting sloppy," she said. "There was a bloody fingerprint on the last body, and I recovered some DNA from under this one's fingernails." She motioned for them to come forward.
"That means that you can find the killer, right?" Lois asked.
"Not really," Beth answered. "Yes, we have DNA and fingerprints, but until we have something to compare it to... We have to have a suspect before we can come up with anything definite. So far, we don't have one."
"Ma'am, is there anything else you can tell us?" Clark asked.
Beth shot him a smile. "Call me Beth. And yes, there is. The fingerprints were too small for the killer to be an average, adult person. Also, the angle of the wound suggests that our perp is short--there are bruises on our victims that suggest that the murderer was restraining them somehow before they died."
Lois bit her lip and walked slowly around the body, examining it. "So, you're saying that the killer tied them up or something?"
Beth simply nodded. "In a way. Our perp knelt on his victims to tie hold them down."
Henderson pushed off from the wall. "So, what you're telling us is that our killer is either a midget, or another child?"
"That's a high probability, yes." Beth covered the body back up. "We have IDs on all the bodies except for the skeleton and this latest victim."
"So is Mr. Carson finished with the bust yet?" Lois asked.
Henderson answered this time. "I called him yesterday--he'll be done later on this week."
Lois jotted down some quick notes in her notepad. "They get younger and younger," she muttered.
Beth sighed, shook her head, and started wheeling the corpse towards the cooler. "They *all* do. Both the victims *and* the killers."
Lois exchanged a glance with Clark. "Any luck on matching the fingerprints?" she asked Henderson.
He shook his head. "They're not in AVIS," he replied. "So whoever is doing this doesn't have a record."
"Have you called the FBI in on this to get a profile or something?" Clark asked.
Henderson grimaced. "They closed the local office--budget cuts, and we'll be getting someone later this week."
Lois frowned and tapped her pen against her notepad. "Not many leads," she muttered.
"Let's go see what we can scare up," Clark said with a shrug. "We've got to find the killer."
"Before they strike again," Lois said.
~*~*~*~
October 7, 1999 12 AM
Daily Planet, Metropolis
Lois walked up behind Clark and laid her hand on his shoulder. "Clark?" she said softly.
"Hmm?" Clark was busily typing up a story and not paying much attention to what was going on around him.
Lois wrapped an arm around his neck and kissed his ear. "Sweetheart?"
"What is it, honey?" Clark said absently as he typed the last word.
Lois let go, turned, and leaned against the corner of his desk. The revelation that the killer was another child was probably the most frightening thing she'd heard since they'd gotten Rachel. What if Rachel were next? For that matter, with all the hate and just plain meanness Timmy had been showing, what if *he* were the killer? More than anything, she needed to talk to her husband. He'd always been able to talk her through things when she was scared. "Clark," she bit her lip.
Clark reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Honey, I won't let anyone get Rachel or Jamie or even Timmy." His eyes hardened with steely determination.
"I know," she said softly. "But--what if *Timmy* is the killer? I know he's young, but he just *hates* so much--"
Clark stood up, pulled her into his arms, and gave her a gentle hug. "He can't be; he was with you during the last murder."
Lois relaxed with Clark's familiar touch. "He's too little, anyway," she said. "I mean, some of the victims are bigger than he is. It's just that he's *so* ugly to Rachel, and uses such bad language, and I really don't know if we can keep him the way he behaves. Nothing we do seems to have any effect on him, and Rachel's been withdrawing more since we got him, and I don't *want* my baby girl to do that. All I really want for her is that she grows up happy and safe and learns how to trust us again and…" Lois stopped to breathe.
Clark waited patiently for Lois to stop. "She already *does* trust us, honey." He gave her a 100 mega-watt smile. "It's so hard for me to say no to her when she really wants something. I mean, she looks at me and I swear that she thinks that I can do anything and fix anything because I'm her daddy."
"And then there are other times, when I can see so much pain in her eyes," Lois said softly. "And she won't tell me what the matter is."
"She'll tell us when she's ready," Clark said. "I know that she loves us and she trusts us; she's just not ready yet to tell us what happened before we got her." He held Lois close to him.
"I hate to do this, but we need to tell the kids not to play with any strange children until we find the killer," Lois said.
"Yes." Clark affirmed. "At least it's only until this is over." He paused for a moment. "Honey, we have to consider calling Sam and asking that Timmy be put somewhere else. He's getting worse, and I really don't want him to hurt Rachel anymore."
"I hate to admit it, but you're right. Can we give it another few days?" she asked.
"Of course," he said. "I really don't want to give up on him, either." He leaned down to steal a kiss, but was interrupted.
"Hey, hey, hey! This is a newsroom, not Elvis's Honeymoon Hideaway!" Perry's voice boomed out.
Lois looked up. "Perry, we promise we'll stop--for now," she said with a smile.
"It's just, with the killer--" Clark began.
"Say no more," Perry said gruffly. "Tell that granddaughter of mine that I want to come and visit sometime next week."
"We'd be glad to have you, Chief," Clark said. "I think Rachel misses you."
Perry smiled broadly. "Nice to know that I'm appreciated." He walked back towards his office.
Lois sighed and rested her forehead on Clark's shoulder. She'd never understood the kind of fear she had now until she had kids. Before, she'd always known that Clark would rescue her. But it was a dangerous world, and she knew full well that sometimes, despite everything, rotten things could still happen. She felt Clark's lips on her cheek and smiled. She wasn't in it alone.
~*~*~*~
October 7, 1999, 11:35 PM
348 Hyperion Avenue, Metropolis
Rachel sat up with a start and rubbed her arm across her eyes. The Monsters were coming more and more since Timmy had come. Her bad dreams had been getting worse. She shivered and slid out of bed. The safest place in the world was in her Momma's and Daddy's bed with them. *They* couldn't get her there.
Rachel bit her lip. Maybe if she told what Papa Gary had done, some of the monsters would forget how to find her. She pulled at the side of her pink, ruffled nightgown. Maybe it wouldn't make them sad. Maybe they'd give her hugs and kisses instead of being sad.
Rachel wanted those hugs and kisses. She wanted her parents to kiss her hurts and make them better. She was sure that her Daddy could fix anything. And that her Momma could make anything be better than it was. It wasn't because her Daddy was Superman--it was because he was Daddy.
She grabbed Aimee and Clarkie off her bed and headed towards her parents' room. Rachel slipped inside, walked over, and stood beside the bed. "Daddy?" she said, her voice high with fear.
Clark rolled over, sat up, and yawned. "What is it, Sprite?"
"I hadda bad dream. Can I sleep with you and Mommy?" She didn't call Lois 'Mommy' often. More common was 'Momma' but slowly and surely Lois was replacing the mother she barely remembered except for a vague sense of anger for leaving her with Papa Gary. As her first mother faded from memory, Lois was becoming, in her mind at least, the only Mommy she'd ever had.
Clark simply picked her up and put her on the bed in between himself and Lois. "Of course you can." He kissed her on the cheek.
"Mommy?" Rachel said.
Lois pushed herself up and gave Rachel a hug. "Tell me about the dream, baby?"
Rachel bit her lip again. "Papa Gary was hurting me like he used to," she said finally.
Clark pulled her into his lap and put his arms around her. "It's okay to tell us what really happened, Sprite," he said quietly.
Lois moved closer and reached out to caress her hair. "We won't ever be mad at you for that," she promised.
Rachel relaxed into the broad expanse of her Daddy's chest and closed her eyes. It was safe here. She took a deep breath. "Papa Gary used to use me instead of an ashtray," she whispered finally. "He laughed when I cried." She wiggled out of her nightgown, leaving her undershirt and panties on and showed them the round, puckered scars on her upper arms. She'd tried telling a teacher once, but the teacher hadn't believed her. Her Daddy's arms tightened around her.
Lois kissed her fingertips and pressed them to the scars. Clark shifted so that he was facing Lois, so her Momma wrapped her arms around them both, making a Rachel sandwich. Tears began to roll down Rachel's cheeks at their silent acceptance. "He broked my arm and made other bones hurt," she said with a sob. "An' he used to hit me with his belt buckle all the time."
Rachel pulled off her undershirt and wiggled until they could see the scars from the buckle on her back. "He played with his pocket knife on my tummy, too," she whispered. "Said that he wanted to see how hard he had to press to cut. Said he'd wanted to be a doctor once and he needed to find out."
Lois let go a little so that she could press kiss-laden fingers to the scars. "He was wrong, peanut," she whispered. "So wrong!"
Rachel continued as if she hadn't heard. "He burnded me with hot water, too. Told the doctors that I pulled it on me from the stove." She started shaking. "He said that I was too little, but when I got bigger, I was gonna take my old Mommy's place." She looked up at Clark trustingly. "What did he mean, Daddy?"
Clark kissed the top of her head. "Rachel, sweetheart, he meant that he's a bad man and that when you got bigger, he was planning on touching you in places that he shouldn't."
Rachel thought about it for a minute. "Bad touching?" She made the connection to the talk they'd had in school about good touches and bad touches. She thought for a minute about the explanation she'd gotten when she'd accidentally walked in on her parents trying to make a baby. "So he was gonna do to me what you and Mommy do together to make me a new brother or sister?"
Lois nodded. "It's very, very wrong when somebody does that, peanut. *You* get to decide if somebody touches you there when you're old enough. And hopefully, you'll wait until you find somebody who loves you like your Daddy loves me and marry him."
Rachel started to cry harder. "He called me bad names like Timmy does." She started hiccupping. "I don't want him to hurt me when I'm bigger." She stood up slightly in Clark's embrace and threw her arms around his neck, still sobbing.
Clark returned the hug and rubbed her back gently with a large, warm hand. "Shh," he murmured. "It's okay, Rachel. We won't let him hurt you ever again."
Rachel hiccupped again. "Promise?"
"Yes." He hugged her tight and as she relaxed her grip, he settled her back in his lap. "I will *never* let anyone hurt you, kiddo. You're my baby girl."
Rachel snuffled a little, hiccupped, and settled back into his lap. "Even if they have Kryptonite and guns?"
"Even then." Lois wiped her tears away, then playfully touched Rachel's nose. "That's what I'm here for, Rachel. I can throw the kryptonite away so your Daddy can break the bad guy's guns, put them in jail, and keep you and me and your brother safe."
Clark hugged her again and kissed her forehead. "Let's get you dressed again so you don't get cold, sweetheart." He reached for her undershirt and helped her pull it on, then did the same with her nightgown before tickling her tummy gently.
Rachel let loose a watery giggle. It had been all right. She was tired, though. Her thumb crept up to her mouth and her eyes started to drift closed. She felt her daddy cuddle her close. Safety. Peace. Love. The bad men would never get her. Especially Papa Gary. Daddy and Mommy would keep her safe just because they were Momma and Daddy and they loved her.
She slipped closer and closer towards sleep, secure in the love and support of her Mommy and Daddy. Unconsciously, she snuggled further into Clark and fell fast asleep.
Clark picked up his daughter and carefully laid her on the bed between them. His mouth was tight with suppressed anger. "They'd better make sure I never get my hands on that man," he said tightly.
Lois reached over and grabbed his hand. "Stand in line," she said tersely. She took a deep breath and released it. "I keep telling myself that she's safe with us now and that I need to let go."
Clark gave her a twisted smile. "When you figure out how, let me know. If anyone ever hurt her--or you--or Jamie."
Lois squeezed his hand. "I know."
Clark reached out, cupped her cheek in his hand, and wiped away the single tear that was rolling down her cheek. He took a deep, slightly shaky breath. "We know what we're dealing with, now," he offered. "And we're a family."
Lois leaned forward and kissed him gently. "She's ours now," she said slowly. "And we can help her overcome what *he* did to her."
Clark reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers. Together, without letting go, they laid down with Rachel sandwiched in between them. Even with their daughter right there and safe, it was a long time before they slept.
~*~*~*~
October 8, 1999, 9:45 AM
Metropolis Children's Medical Center
Lois paced back in forth in the therapist's office, impatiently waiting for her to show up. She needed those records! The receptionist had insisted that she needed to talk to Dr. Summers before she could have them. Clark had offered to pick them up, but then he'd had a Superman call at the last minute, so it was up to her to get them. She didn't mind... much. They'd been sharing the child-rearing duties pretty equally since they'd gotten Rachel.
Theirs was a partnership in every way. It was just so frustrating when emergencies made their previous plans moot! Rachel had needed comforting again when they'd gotten up, and Timmy had started pulling her hair again at breakfast.
They'd ended up leaving a message on Sam's voicemail, so it was uncertain when she'd manage to get back to them about Timmy. They weren't giving up--yet--but they wanted her to know the kind of problems they'd been facing with him. That way, if they did ask her to find him another family, it wouldn't be a complete shock.
Bored, Lois started looking at the drawings on the walls. Lots of hearts, flowers, and rainbows. Smiling faces. One particular grouping caught her eye. She frowned as she saw the red drops that seemed to be coming from the flowers. The drops almost looked like… blood. It was a series of drawings--each drawing had another flower. The girl in the pictures was smiling, but the flowers were all crying. The last picture, dated the week before, had what looked like a screaming flower on it.
Lois was no expert, but she thought that the drawings must be the work of a very disturbed mind. She looked at the dates on the bottom of the drawings. Strange. All the dates were almost right after the murders. And the drawings were obviously the work of a child.
Lois eyed the drawings suspiciously. Art therapy was a popular way for children who had problems to receive some form of treatment for them. She'd looked into it before deciding to allow Rachel to continue to see Dr. Summers. The biggest problem with the field was that it was still relatively new, and there simply weren't doctorate programs in it yet. While Dr. Summers also had a PhD in psychology, to go with her bachelors and masters in art therapy, she wasn't actually a real MD doctor.
Looking at the pictures, Lois decided that if the child who had drawn the pictures was under *her* care, she'd see to it that they were medicated. Heavily. She wasn't a psychiatrist, but the drawings were... disturbing. At least, they were if you knew anything about the murders. The drawings were signed, too. It seemed like the artist had been proud of her work.
Lois turned around as she heard the door open. "Dr. Summers," she said with a nod.
"Mrs. Kent," Dr. Summers said. "I was told that you needed Rachel's records."
"Yes, I do. But there is something I'd like to ask you." Lois motioned towards the drawings. "I need to know who drew these."
Dr. Summers walked over and glanced at the drawings. "Charming, aren't they? One of my patients drew them. The flowers are crying as an outlet for the pain that she can't articulate because of her stepfather's death. I think we're making real progress."
"What about the unusual colors that she used?" Lois resisted the urge to take out a notepad and take notes. Her memory was good enough to remember at least the child's name until she got out the door.
"Children often use different colors when they draw," Dr. Summers explained. "It doesn't mean anything."
"So there isn't a deeper meaning?" Lois asked.
Dr. Summers shook her head. "I'm afraid not. In some of these there are," she motioned towards the walls. "Rainbows are one of the hallmarks of a sexually abused child if other markers are there. Megan Barnett has made some progress since her mother first brought her here--she's been bringing me these pictures at least once a month."
"I see." Lois said, not really understanding at all. "Is there anything you can tell me about Megan and her case?"
Dr. Summers turned to face her. "I'm afraid not," she said. "I'm still bound by doctor-patient confidentiality."
"Of course not, thank you anyway," Lois said. "Now, about my daughter's records?"
Dr. Summers walked around her desk, picked up a file, and handed it to Lois. "I'm sorry I couldn't help Rachel," she said. "Sometimes, no matter how much I want to, I just can't help... disturbed children."
Lois snatched the file, and shoved it into her briefcase, repressing the urge to hit the doctor in the solar plexus. Her mouth tightened and her eyes flashed. "My daughter is *not* disturbed. Perhaps you ought to reexamine how you treat your patients, *Doctor*! Perhaps you ought to go back to school, because your professors obviously failed to teach you well enough the first time! *You* would be 'disturbed' if you'd gone through half of what Rachel has; it's amazing that she's as normal as she is!"
Lois whirled around and stormed out of the office, down the hall and out of the building. She hurried to the jeep, slammed the door and leaned her forehead against the steering wheel, breathing hard.
It had taken almost all of her concentration not to hit the therapist. Yes, Rachel had problems. Understandably so. But she *wasn't* deranged. Lois closed her eyes for a few minutes, and took some deep breaths. After regaining her composure, she started the car and headed back to the Planet. She'd take the records to Dr. Jacobs' office during her lunch hour. And she had a feeling that Clark wouldn't be all that happy when he heard about Dr. Summer's comments. And she also had to tell Henderson about the drawings.
~*~*~*~
October 8, 1999 6:05 PM
348 Hyperion Avenue, Metropolis
Timmy glared across the dinner table at Rachel. Nothing had worked. *He* was the one who got punished *all* the *time.* Mr. and Mrs. Kent didn't seem to realize what a *bad* girl Rachel was; instead they thought that *he* was bad. It just wasn’t fair. He slid down in his chair a little and kicked her under the table.
He almost smiled when he saw her flinch, but when she didn't react otherwise, his mood plummeted. He wanted to stick his lip out, but he didn't want a birdie to fly in and poop on his teeth. He moved his fork through the mashed potatoes, making a road for the gravy to run down.
Mrs. Kent was mean and Mr. Kent wasn't much better. They wouldn't let him have stuff from Rachel's room. They liked her better. Sulkily, he played with his dinner, then decided he'd had enough. "Can I be excused... please?" he asked as he'd been taught to do.
Mr. Kent nodded. "Wash your hands, please," he requested.
Coming from him, Timmy knew it wasn't a request. He glared at Mr. Kent and stomped to the bathroom to comply with the order. A little smile spread over his face. He didn't *have* to wash. Mr. Kent wouldn't be there to *make* him. He turned on the water in the bathroom and started splashing it all over the room.
After a few minutes, he decided he was done and wiped his hands on the only dry towel that was left in the room. He stomped out, still angry, but happy that he'd been able to get *back* at the mean people he was living with.
He climbed the stairs, stopping to rest when the long flight made his short legs ache. He wandered down the hall and peeked into the baby's room. He'd never been in there. Ever. Rachel always showed up and kept him from going in. Boldly, he walked inside and began to poke around.
He had just found a cool Superman doll when he heard the door open. He turned around and was shocked to see Rachel standing nearby, her fists balled up and her eyes flashing. "This is *my* brother's room, and you're not allowed in here," she said. He was even more shocked when she took the doll away and started pulling him out the door. "Stay away from Jamie and his room," she ordered, a scowl on her face.
"I don't have to," he said. "The Kents are gonna send you back, and then he'll be *my* brother."
"No he won't. He's my brother, and you can't change it. You don't belong here and Jamie and me *do.* So *there!*" Rachel stuck her tongue out at him.
Timmy glared at her, but a small idea began to form in his mind. Maybe he was going about this wrong. No matter what he did to Rachel, she wasn't really reacting. But if he pinched *Jamie,* he had a feeling that she'd be more fun. "Bastardbitch," he said, then turned around and walked to his room. This required further thought.
~*~*~*~
October 10, 1999, 8:00 PM
348 Hyperion Avenue, Metropolis
Clark flipped through the file again. It *looked* good, but until they got the DNA evidence, it was impossible to tell if Megan Barnett had really killed the boys. She was only twelve years old! He'd heard of children killing other children, but it was the first time that, aside from a gang war, he'd ever heard of it happening in Metropolis.
"Daddy?"
Clark looked up and smiled when he heard Rachel's voice. He closed the file--she didn't need to see that, and put it on the coffee table. "What is it, Sprite?"
Rachel ran over and climbed into his lap. "Timmy said that you were gonna give me back and keep him. Is that true?"
Clark hugged her close. "No, it's not." He kissed her on the cheek. "Baby, we adopted you, remember? That means that we want to keep you forever. And that you're staying with us no matter what."
Rachel snuggled into him, and he kissed her on top of her head. "Daddy, I saw sumpin'," she whispered.
If it weren't for his superhearing, he wasn't sure that he could've heard her at all. "What did you see?" he asked with a smile. He figured that she'd seen something good, but her body language said otherwise.
"I saw a big kid," Rachel began. "She was hittin' a little boy with a rock." Tears began to roll down her face. "She buried the rock next to the boy and left."
Clark rubbed his hand up and down her back, offering her physical comfort. "How was the boy when she left?" he asked gently.
"He-he-he looked *dead,* Daddy," she started to cry harder. "And then when Mommy took me to Dr. Summers' office, the girl who hurt the boy was there, too!"
Clark gathered her close. "Shh. Sweetheart, it's all right," he murmured.
"What if she comes to get me and Jamie?" Rachel sobbed.
"I won't let her, Rachel," Clark promised. "She won't be able to get you two because your Momma and I will keep her away."
Rachel's sobs started to slow, and only showed by the occasional hitch in her breathing. "Good. She's scary."
"Sprite, could you help me with something?" Clark asked.
Rachel bit her lip. "Okay," she said.
"Would you come with me to the police station tomorrow to tell Inspector Henderson and Lieutenant Zymeck what you told me?" Clark asked.
Slowly, Rachel nodded. "Will they put the big kid where she can't hurt nobody?"
"Anybody," Clark corrected absently. "They're going to try--Rachel, they might ask you to show them her picture with different ones around it. Do you think you can do that?"
"Yes!" Rachel nodded vigorously. "It'll make it so she won't hurt Jamie. Ever."
Clark hugged her again. "You're the best little girl in Metropolis," he said with a grin.
"You're the best Daddy in the universe," she informed him.
"C'mon, kiddo, it's almost your bedtime."
Rachel seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Can you give me a bath, Daddy?"
Clark stood up and tossed her gently into the air with a laugh. Rachel giggled as he caught her. "Of course. How about bubbles for my favorite little girl?"
"Okay," she agreed. "Can I have my boats, and my plane, and my rubber duck?" she asked.
"Sure you can," he said with a grin. Clark started upstairs, Rachel still in his arms.
She threw her little arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. "I wanna marry you when I grow up," she said solemnly. "That way, I can fly forever."
Clark laughed and tickled her tummy. "Sprite, I'm already married to your Momma."
She considered this for a minute. "Then I wanna marry somebody who can fly like you," she whispered in his ear.
Clark settled Rachel on his hip. "I'm afraid that won't work, either," he said solemnly. "The only other people here who might be able to fly someday are going to be any brothers and sisters that your Mommy and I make."
"No fair," Rachel pouted. "Guess I won't get married then, because boys that can't fly are dumb."
Clark repressed a chuckle and carried her upstairs. He was sure that Lois would agree with Rachel--she'd married *him* after all. He mussed Rachel's hair and headed towards the bathroom. "C'mon, Sprite, let's get you clean."
~*~*~*~
TBC...
