Fractured Eden by Steven Gossington Page A

small scars on his face. He held up a bloody left hand.
    “I got cut,” he said.
    Aaron examined the wound. “How did it happen?”
    “A fight, last night.”
    “So you hit someone in the mouth? Are these teeth cuts?”
    “I guess.”
    “We’ll tend to those wounds and put you on antibiotics to try to prevent infection. Did you report anything to the police?”
    Buck laughed. “Hell, no. Don’t want no cops.”
    “Keep the hand elevated as much as you can, and let me know if you have any problems. My nurse will show you how to take care of your hand at home.”
    Stella cleaned and dressed the wounds, and Buck strutted out of the clinic with his prescription.
    “You said he’s a troublemaker. I guess he grew up around here?” Aaron said to Stella.
    “He did. He had a rough family life, but he did manage to graduate from high school.”
    “A rough family life?”
    “Problems in the marriage. His father left them. Buck still lives with his mother.”
    “He has a wild look about him, like a hungry tiger.”
    “Oh, yeah. Everyone knows Buck Bogarty. If you see a fancy hot rod around town, it’s probably Buck showing off.”
     
    Aaron closed his clinic an hour early and drove over to Constable Greevy’s office. He could have asked his questions over the phone when he’d called earlier in the day, but he figured he might be more convincing in person.
    As Aaron walked into the office, he detected a faint scent of coffee. In the middle of the room, Keller Greevy sat behind a desk strewn with papers.
    “Have a seat, Doc. What’s on your mind?” Keller said.
    “It’s the Taggetts. I’m worried about those folks.”
    “Well, I know Sid is sickly, and Race is a bit strange. They’ve been that way for a long time.”
    “I looked up some medical records at the hospital. It seems that Wanda was suspected of possible child abuse when Race was young. Recently, she took Sid to the hospital several times and they couldn’t find out what was wrong with him.”
    “Okay, plenty of doctors have tried to help them. Maybe that’s the way it is. Some things can’t be helped, right?”
    “That’s true, but Wanda has been giving Sid some kind of liquid medicine, and yet he’s begging for help.”
    “Begging for help. Now, how would you know that?”
    “Sid told me.”
    “You were in the house?”
    “Yes. And Rocky told me he saw Wanda buying drugs in an alley downtown.”
    “Rocky Donnigan?”
    Aaron nodded.
    Keller threw his hands up. “He’s a drunk. He’s liable to say anything.”
    Keller stood up and took several steps away from his chair.
    He turned to Aaron. “What do you want from me?”
    “Get a search warrant and let’s find out what Wanda is giving him to drink.”
           Keller pointed his finger at Aaron. “You’re way out of line. The state has already looked into their situation. That family has been that way for a long time, and Sid has been checked by doctors. He’s a sick man, and Wanda takes care of him. Let them be.”
    “But—”
    “This meeting’s over,” Keller said.
    Aaron shook his head and stood up.
    Just like Marley said, there’s something very wrong with Sid, and we don’t even have a diagnosis, he thought as he walked out. I’ll have to pursue this in my own way.
     
    Aaron drove away from Constable Greevy’s office, and after several miles, he pulled into a long curving driveway that led up the hill to the home of Brad Benningham, the oilman. He’d called earlier from his office to ask if he could drop by and discuss Preston’s struggle with addiction.
    Aaron stopped in a porte cochere at the front of the house and stepped out as the front door swung open. V. Brad Benningham stood at the threshold, filling most of the open doorway space, the crown of his head almost touching the top of the door.
    Brad motioned to Aaron. “Come on in.”
    Aaron followed him into the mansion and to a spacious living room with earth-toned furniture. A sparkling crystal