However, his ill-educated brothers had not listened to their older sibling’s advice. Since his teens Ken had been in prison. He had only been recently released from his last stint for another stupid and meaningless crime. Ken was particularly unteachable, his skin tatted with crap he probably didn’t even understand. He was a loser and not really worth worrying about.
His sisters, like their mother, had abandoned the family when they reached adulthood. Buckley had never forgiven them. He had also never married or had a serious relationship with a woman, because he knew them to be totally untrustworthy. When he required sex, he paid for it. The night passed and the lady was not there in the morning. And that suited him just fine.
But Ken was still family, so Buckley did worry about him. When he got the call about what had happened from a police officer who had found his phone number among Ken’s personal belongings, he had flown in on his jet two hours later. He had sat through Ken’s first surgery. And he had gone to the motel to find out what had happened, and had also spoken to the local police.
A woman, of course, had done this to his brother. A tall, strong woman who had given no name and paid for her room in cash. She had told the woman at the motel that she was an undercover cop. Yet the police had no knowledge of her; Buckley, in his friendly, nonthreatening way, had asked for details about this, and the police had been very accommodating because Buckley was Ken’s brother and looked and acted eminently respectable. So the woman had lied. And she had nearly killed Ken. Buckley had also confirmed that the woman had done all this to Ken with her bare hands. A formidable woman, physically, because Ken was no lightweight when it came to a brawl.
The surgeon had said that they would have to run more tests and do more imaging to make certain there would be no lasting damage to his body or his brain.
Buckley would take care of his little brother, even if it meant hiring people to change his diaper and feed him through a straw. And the woman needed to be found and punished appropriately. In Buckley’s mind, there was no other possible outcome.
He left the hospital, climbed into a rented Mercedes, and drove back over to the motel. He was a man who was usually driven places, but he had come here alone. This was family business. When others needed to be called in, he would call them in. First, he had to do some more digging.
And a thought had occurred to him.
Beth, the woman at the motel’s front desk, seemed pleased to see him again.
“Have they caught her yet? I gave a description.”
“Unfortunately, no. But when I was here last time I noted the camera out front. Is it functioning?”
“Oh, damn, I forgot about that. Yes, it is. The cops didn’t even ask about that.”
“May I see the film?”
She showed him to a back room and had him sit in front of a computer. A few moments later scenes appeared on the screen, and Beth sped up the video until she got to a certain point. However, there were numerous blurry and totally blacked-out segments.
“That’s her car,” she said in a triumphant tone, hitting a key to return the video to normal speed. “The gray Civic.”
Buckley took out his phone and keyed in the license plate number and then took several photos of the car. “But where is the woman? If you have the car, you should have her as well on the security footage.”
“It’s this lousy system,” whined Beth. “It jumps around and doesn’t film everything. And the camera is really old and half the time doesn’t even work.” She ran it back and then played it forward again. “You see there, and there? Where it’s all blurry and gray? That was probably when she came and went to the office. This is the only good shot of the car. But at least we got that.”
He thanked the woman with a hundred-dollar bill.
“I hope you get her,” said Beth, eagerly taking the money. “She’s a real bitch.”