198 - New Dream

198 - New Dream
If you contact any of the kids, Camille or Amos, I will come after you with the full force of the law. I will use state law from all three states and since you are crossing state lines, I will also use federal law. The southern states may look the other way for attempted kidnapping, but Massachusetts will not. – Mary Katherine

Early Thursday morning, Camille waddled into her father’s clubhouse and headed for his office. The few brothers that were there quickly offered her anything that she might want. Something to eat. Hot tea. A chair. A pillow for the hypothetical chair.

As she entered Trigg’s office, he looked up with a smile and then cocked an eyebrow at her look of irritation on her face. She moved around his desk and unlocked the large gun safe. Pulling out the Glock that she liked, she slammed the magazine into the grip and cocked the gun.

Turning around, Camille aimed the gun at the three men that had followed her into the office. “I’m fucking pregnant, not goddamned helpless. I’ve already eaten breakfast. I know where the tea is. There’s a fucking chair right there. But I will take the pillow.”

Chuckling at the complete shock on their faces, Trigg asked, “And what have we learned?” the three men looked at each other in confusion before looking back at their president and shrugged. “Johanson women will tell you what they want. Only if they can’t do it themselves. And if you annoy them, they will let you know. The further they get in their pregnancy; they become annoyed very easily. Walk away.”

He reached over and grabbed the heart shaped pillow that had sat in his office since he was the Vice and Charlotte was pregnant. Offering his youngest daughter the pillow, he asked, “Trade?”

She cleared the chamber, caught the ejected bullet and flipped the switch to safety. Handing her father the gun, she took the pillow and moved to the chair. Settling in his guest chair, Camille sighed as she placed the pillow at her lower back.

“Goodbye, gentlemen,” Trigg said as he pulled the clip out and pushed the bullet back in.

The men in his doorway muttered goodbyes and walked back down the hall. He had been through this with his wife and most of his daughters and daughters-in-law. From his own personal experience, he knew that the worst was yet to come.

“You need me to get rid of a body?”

Camille shook her head as she gave a small laugh. “No, I haven’t killed anyone,” she smirked at him and they both said “yet” at the same time.

Trigg chuckled, “The day is still young, and you still have, what, about six more weeks.”

“Just shy,” she shifted in the chair searching for a comfortable position.

“I got a prospect that should be coming around in a few minutes, you want something to drink?”

She blushed slightly, “Tea?”

“The same tea that you just bitched at the guys about?”

“Yes,” she said softly.

He rolled around his desk, towards the door and slightly into the hallway. “Prospect! Your late!”

Trigg rolled back behind the desk and winked at his daughter as a young man rushed into the office. His eyes went wide when he saw Camille in the office. Trigg cleared his throat and the young man looked at him.

“You’re late.”

“I’m sorry, sir, you said eight.”

“When you’re late, you’re late,” Camille informed him. “When you’re on time, you’re late. When you’re early…”

“You’re on time?” he asked nervously.

Shaking her head, she corrected, “Not when you’re a prospect. You’re still late.”

“Okay,” he said.

Camille cocked an eyebrow at him much like her own father was doing. “Excuse me? Did you just tell me okay?”

“Like I said,” Trigg leaned back in his chair and linked his fingers behind his head, “the day is still young.”

“I earned my patch, prospect,” Camille informed him with a cold voice, “you will give me the respect that I have earned.”

His eyes went wide again as it dawned on him who she was. “You… you… you’re the Worm.”

“I am.”

“You shot up the gun range.”

“I’ve shot up a few gun ranges, that is what they are for.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said as he looked at his boots.

“Prospect,” Trigg commanded as he sat up and grabbed the Glock on his desk. Camille knew that the kid was on the verge of pissing himself and fought to keep from smiling or even laughing at him. “There should be some bottled greet teas at the bar. Bring us some.”

“Yes, sir,” he backed out of the office and rushed down the hall.

“Although I enjoy torturing the prospects with you, I doubt that’s why you came over.”

“No,” she shifted again. “I had a new dream last night.”

“No animal?”

She shook her head, “I told Darkness that I dreamed it was a sloth.”

“What was it?”

Taking a deep breath, then let it out slowly and steeled herself. “Dominique.”

“Kiesha’s mother?” Trigg asked and Camille nodded. “You didn’t give birth to her, did you?”

“Prez?” the prospect knocked on the doorframe.

Trigg motioned him in and took the bottles that he held. “Close the door behind you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Stepping out of the office, the prospect pulled the door closed. Trigg listened for the click before he stood up and walked over to flip the lock. Moving back to his daughter's side, he leaned against the desk and handed her one of the cold green tea bottles. Patiently, he waited for her to take a drink and then look up at him.

“I didn’t give birth to her,” Camille explained softly. “Instead, I dreamed that she came after the kids again.”

“What do you know about the settlement?”

“Nothing really, Celt told me that it was taken care of. I’ve learned when he says that, you don’t ask too many questions.”

Trigg chuckled, “That’s a true statement. Mary Katherine can give you better details, and there is a distinct possibility that Shiloh offered a payment for her to disappear.”

“Really?”

“To use Celt’s line…”

“You can neither confirm nor deny.”

“Exactly,” he agreed. “Mary Katherine reached out to the law firm that was helping Dominique. She provided them with their binders…”

“The oh-so infamous binders.”

“Yeah, and they were thicker than they were when you took custody of them. They now had the adoption paperwork, notes from the therapists that they were seeing, home visits, floor plans of your house, reports from the Cambridge and MIT police departments, and so and so forth for two four-inch binders.”

“Damn.”

He nodded, “Yeah. Well, just the fact that Mary Katherine walked in and said I’m representing the Johnson children, the other lawyer seriously reconsidered if they wanted to continue down that path. The binders sealed the decision.”

“She’s scary.”

“What really makes her scary is she she’s like Dom in a courtroom. She has no problems going for the jugular, but she’d rather drain your blood with a million little cuts.” Trigg smirked as a memory crossed his mind. “With lemon juice and salt.”