Chapter 4: The Wrong Guy

[Author’s caution: This chapter includes violence.]

As we ate our steaks, Tillie revealed her enrollment at a nearby private college. It was expensive, but she qualified for admission as a legacy because her father, Eric, had graduated from there. She could pay for her tuition and books with a §529 plan Eric established and funded for her over the years, starting when she was a toddler. He had wisely invested the plan in excellent mutual funds, building up an impressive sum.

“Did he do the same for Annie?” I asked.

“Yeah, and I’m sure she will be using it soon; she’s making so much progress.”

Diane smiled at her daughter and received a big smile in return.

“Your ex sounds like a good guy. You get along with him?”

“I do. The girls were still in elementary school when we split, but he always prioritized them. When Annie was hospitalized and in the time since then, he’s done everything he could to help her. Without him, I think her struggles would be much worse.”

We all enjoyed our Saturday night at Outback. On Sunday I was back to fix the street sign, and Diane made us a delicious dinner (I sat on a pillow). I couldn’t leave before showing my gratitude in her bedroom. After three orgasms for her and one for me, Diane sent me on my way.

I met her for lunch on Wednesday, and we talked about the weekend. I suggested a resort about 90 minutes away. I’d get two rooms at the hotel, and we would enjoy the beach. At night, we could see a show or gamble in the casino.

“Any issue with Annie and Tillie sharing a room?”

“Oh, not at all. Sometimes I find them sleeping together when I wake them up for breakfast. And, before you ask, yes. They are intimate, and it’s been helpful to Annie. I want to tell you Annie is thrilled that we are seeing each other. She’s spending a few days this week with her father, and I’m sure she’s telling him all sorts of great things about you.”

“She talks more when she’s with your ex?”

“She does. Like I said, he’s always been a rock for her.”

“I guess I have something to shoot for.”

“Jeff, I don’t have any doubt. She’s going to be chattering away with you in no time. Both of my girls think you’re hot.”

We’d met for lunch at a large restaurant, fairly empty at this time of day. Next to the front entrance, an empty waiting room caught my eye. I steered Diane inside and wrapped her up for some serious kissing. Discreetly, she rubbed the front of my suit pants with her hand.

“I can’t wait for this weekend,” she said.

“Neither can I, sweetie.”

As it turned out, I didn’t have to wait until Saturday morning, but not for a good reason. At four o’clock on Thursday, my phone buzzed with an incoming text from Diane.

“911 my house tilli attackd help”

My blood ran cold.

“10 mins” was my reply. I grabbed my jacket and blitzed out of the office, screaming out of the parking lot in my Lincoln SUV. Leaving the city, I blew through a few stop signs where I could and probably got to Diane’s in only eight minutes. Parked in the driveway were Diane’s car and an expensive sports car I didn’t recognize.

“In here!” Diane called out in a shaky voice, and I rushed into Tillie’s bedroom. The scene before me was hard to believe.

Tillie had a little desk and office-style chair, where Diane was seated and holding a revolver pointed at an angry young man proned out on the floor. On the desk was a little plastic box, which I recognized as a taser. Tillie was sitting uncomfortably on the bed with a bruised and tearful face; a trickle of blood leaked from a busted lip. Her wrists were bound with plastic zip ties.

“Who is this asshole?”

“His name is Davis, Davis Filbert. Since Annie was away and Mom was at work, I invited him over for some fun. The minute he got inside, he attacked me, a total surprise. He’d been a gentleman until then. He handcuffed me with those plastic things and was about to rape me.”

I noticed her shirt had been torn open and gaped a little between her arms. Diane picked up the story.

“I just happened to come home early, and I could hear Tillie screaming and crying from outside, so I walked inside quietly and went to my bedroom for the pistol and taser. He’d left the bedroom door open, so I came in and told him to freeze. He didn’t listen; he spun around and almost died on the spot because I was squeezing the trigger almost hard enough to fire.

“I ordered him to the floor with his head turned away, palmed the taser in my left hand, and stuck the barrel of the gun in his neck. ‘You move, you die,’ I told him. I tased him then, and when he was still, I took his extra zip ties out of his back pocket and trussed him up the way you see him now.

“Once he was secured, I texted you and took a bunch of photographs to document what he did. I even took a picture of the remaining ties hanging out of his back pocket.”

“Bitch jumped me. I’m going to shoot her in the cunt with her own gun and her daughter between the eyes.”

“This guy’s an imbecile. Tase him again, this time on the face,” I suggested.

“No! I’m sorry! I’ll be quiet.”

“Diane, look at his clothes. Did you notice his car outside? What kind of college student drives a car like that? A rich one. Before we cut his dick off and bury it in your backyard, maybe we can work this situation to your advantage. I’ll bet this won’t be the first time his family has to buy off one of his victims.”

“That’s extortion,” he complained, from down on the floor.

“It certainly is. If you and your family don’t want to comply, we can call the police and let them take care of you. And while you’re waiting in jail to enter your plea, pictures of you and Tillie will be all over the place. Is your father here in town?”

“Yes,” he muttered.

“Diane, take out his wallet. Where’s your phone, shithead?”

“On the floor, under the edge of the bed.”

I got the unlock code and found the right contact to call his father.

“Alright, Davis, what is it?”

“Mr. Filbert, my name is Jeff Carter. We caught your son trying to rape our daughter. He’s in restraints now on the carpet of her bedroom. Say something, Davis.”

“Dad! It’s all a misunder...”

Diane brandished the taser, and he fell silent.

“We have plenty of photographs to document what he did and what he tried to do, and they are copied in a safe place. I understand you are here in town. My supposition is that you would prefer to work these things out privately. Am I correct, or should we just have the sheriff’s office come arrest your son?”

“No, I will come and negotiate with you before I take him home and kill him.”

The furious man was spitting out every word. My guess was probably right; this wasn’t the kid’s first fuck-up.

“Alright. I want you to bring as much cash as you can get your hands on quickly. You can bring one person with you to help transport him and his car, but remember you will be under remote surveillance, and any funny stuff will become a police matter and publicly shared.

“We will expect you at 3 Eaton Lane in 60 minutes. Goodbye.”

I turned to Diane.

“OK, before anything else, email your photos to me, and I will send copies to a secure location. Then, keep an eye on the asshole while I go out to my car and get some wire cutters. Tillie, I’m afraid you won’t be stomping the asshole’s face into jelly, but we’re going to figure out something better. I need you to go hide in the doghouse and watch us on Zoom. If you see a problem, you call 911. Is that alright?”

“Yes, Jeff. I agree to deferred stomping and surveillance. I need to kiss my mom for saving me, though. Kiss you, too, for being clever and for saying ‘our daughter.’ Mom, you need to keep him!”

“I agree. Jeff, here’s my phone. I’ll keep my gun on the asshole while you take care of the photos.”

Mr. Morris Filbert showed up on time. He brought a big bodyguard type with him, but that guy stayed outside.

I propped up my phone on Tillie’s dresser, showing her the whole room on Zoom while she hid outside. Once again, Diane explained the sequence of events, showing Morris some of the pictures.

“You tased him twice?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’s right. Too much?”

“Not enough. He’s lucky you didn’t shoot his ass. I appreciate your restraint. I scraped together about seven grand for your daughter. Here. I was going to give her the title to his sports car, but I think that might be a burden for her to insure. So, instead, I’m ready to offer you money to keep this quiet.”

Diane started to speak, but Tillie interrupted.

“Mr. Filbert, I’m not turning down more money, but what is going to stop your son from attacking other women like me? He’s a predator, isn’t he? Aren’t there other women you’ve had to pay? Victims who didn’t get rescued by their heroic mothers?”

“Unfortunately, now that he’s no longer a minor, I don’t have the direct control of him that I need. But he’s burned his last bridge. That car is going to my niece; he’ll never drive it again. This is the last time I’m going to pay for anything, including college, apartment, all of it. I’ll pay him $900 a month just to keep him from starving, but he will have to get a job to have an apartment and any standard of living.

“Enough about him. Instead of the car, would you accept $100,000?”

“Tillie, can I make a suggestion?” I asked.

“Go ahead.”

“Along with the $100,000, you need to donate $50,000 to the shelter downtown for women and families.”

“Done. Tillie, do you have a bank account?”

We heard some gripes from the floor, but he shut up when his father bristled and asked to borrow the taser. When the transfer was complete, I clipped the ties off his ankles, and his father and I helped him to stand.

“Tillie, here’s my card with my personal number on the back. If my son has any future contact with you, call me right away and I will deal with him. Diane, on behalf of his mother, thank you for intervening without killing him. Let me know if you need anything, I’m in your debt.”