Chapter 3

Before I got too far into the fried chicken and waffles, I better ask Karen if that sounds good to her. I took the stairs two at a time and heard the water running in the shower. Karen was facing the shower stall and was shrugging out of her panties, her last article of clothing. I admired her trim shape that was outstanding for a 39 year-old. Then I saw her back. Jesus Christ Karen! I shouted and she jumped a foot. “What happened to your back and who did this to you?” Her poor back was crisscrossed with welts—some of them with fresh scabs showing they were deep enough to bleed. She must have been whipped with a heavy whip to cut so deep. “Oh Jake, I didn’t want you to see that. It doesn’t hurt as much now as it when he did it three days ago.

In a calm, even cold, voice I said “Who did this to you Karen?” My cold voice frightened her as she dropped her head and whispered “My Mas... , I mean Victor. He was very angry when we arrived at the Outer Banks. He hadn’t spoken ten words the whole trip. I asked him what I did to make him so mad.”

He screamed at me, “You don’t remember calling me a bastard in front of that wetback in your driveway?” You worthless bitch, it’s a good thing that Mex didn’t speak English or I would give you more than you going to get.”

“He and Barry tied me to the bed and he whipped me for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Barry and Wanda made him stop.”

She was sobbing now and I held her naked body until she calmed down. I said “I came up to ask if cold fried chicken and waffles sounded good to you. When I saw your back I just lost it.” Even though I was speaking in a normal voice, I was holding in a white-hot fury that I would nurture until Victor McDonald gets much more than just payback for this assault on my wife. The details were still sketchy, but my plan was coming together.