by T. R. Ragan
He paused for a moment to take a look around the room, making eye contact with the audience. “Many families over the years have contacted me because they’re afraid for their children’s lives and yet they can’t afford the financial burden of karate classes or sparring gear. No child deserves to be unprepared and that’s why I’ve made a self-defense video that you can download for free. Elizabeth Gardner has all the information here for those of you who are interested.”
After the clapping died down, Mr. Louis took a seat and Lizzy turned up the lights. “Thank you, Mr. Louis.”
“What about yelling ‘fire’?” a young woman asked. “Would that be enough to scare off an abductor?”
“Do whatever you must to get away,” Lizzy said. “Yell, scream, kick, fight. Do not let anyone get you into their vehicle.
“There are free programs out there,” Lizzy added, “and people like Mr. Louis who want to help empower young women. And yet still, most people don’t realize that one in four teenagers risk sexual assault. In the U.S. alone there are approximately one hundred thousand abductions a year. Right now, more than five hundred thousand registered sex offenders are walking our streets.”
“No wonder they haven’t found Spiderman,” someone shouted.
Although Lizzy didn’t want to talk about Spiderman, she couldn’t let the opportunity to teach pass her by. “That’s right. Finding these guys is like looking for a needle in a haystack. They don’t have ‘ABDUCTOR’ tattooed across their forehead.”
She pointed to a young man who had his hand up.
“How do you know what they look like?” he asked. “I read in the paper that you don’t remember what your kidnapper looks like even after spending two months with the guy.”
Lizzy wasn’t going to let the kid ruffle her feathers. She was about to explain that sometimes it’s dark outside and that her abductor wore black clothing, including a mask, but another student stood up and beat her to the punch.
“What’s your problem?” the girl asked. “She’s here to help us, asshole.”
It was Hayley Hansen. Thank God she was okay. Lizzy had been worried about Hayley ever since the girl had come to her apartment and then disappeared.
The boy laughed. “Why are you even here? You’d have to be the last girl on Earth before somebody would bother abducting you.”
Both Jared and Mr. Louis came to their feet at the same time. Before either man could reach the young man and escort him out of the gym, the double doors at the back of the room opened and a blitz of media and cold air entered the gym.
Cameras clicked and lights flashed.
Jared left the kid with Mr. Louis and stopped the female reporter from charging up the center aisle where Lizzy stood. The woman reached over Jared’s arm and held out her microphone. “Is it true that Spiderman left a personalized note for you in Sophie Madison’s bedroom?”
Lizzy looked into the cameraman’s bright light. She could hardly make out the woman’s face or Jared’s. “I’m teaching a class. Please take your cameras and exit the gym until I’m finished. I’ll be glad to talk to you when I’m done here.”
Another woman entered the gym. She marched past the reporter and came up to Lizzy. The woman’s face was covered with blotchy red marks as if she’d been crying. She wore no makeup. Her nose was bright red, her eyes swollen and shadowed with dark circles. “Is it true?” the woman asked. “Did he take my Sophie because of you?”
Lizzy swallowed. It was Sophie’s mother. “I don’t know,” she said. “I have no words to express how sorry I am about your daughter.”
“That’s all you have to say?” The woman’s hands fisted at her sides. “My daughter is dead and you think ‘I’m sorry’ is going to help?” The woman’s bottom lip trembled. “My Sophie did not deserve to die. You were with the killer for two months and yet you refuse to tell the authorities anything about him. Why didn’t you tell the FBI what he looked like? Why don’t you remember where he lives? What kind of person are you that you would let others die because of some sick, misplaced affection you have for the man?”
Lizzy’s chest tightened. “You think I’m trying to protect a killer?”
“It’s all over the news.”
Lizzy looked toward the bright light where she knew Jared was standing. “What is she talking about?”
The reporter struggled to get past Jared, but he wouldn’t budge. “Haven’t you heard?” the reporter asked. “Spiderman sent a letter to the Channel 10 news station. He wants the world to know that he’s back and it’s all because of you.”
“All you had to do was cooperate with the police,” Sophie’s mother said. “That’s all you had to do to keep my daughter alive.”
“You don’t understand...I tried to help.” Lizzy held out a hand to the woman, but Sophie’s mother backed away as if Lizzy might strike.
“I’m trying to remember everything that happened,” Lizzy told her. “More than anything in the world I wanted Sophie to come back safe.” She wanted them all to come back safe, including Mary. She still didn’t have the heart to tell Jessica that her sister was dead.
Mr. Louis put a gentle arm around Mrs. Madison’s shoulders and walked her toward the back of the room. Lizzy overheard him telling her it wasn’t Lizzy’s fault and that she was a victim too. But Mrs. Madison’s words had already struck home, putting more doubts in Lizzy’s mind. Maybe the woman was right. Maybe they were all right. Her mother had moved far away from her family and friends because of what happened...because of Lizzy’s irresponsible actions. If Lizzy had obeyed her father, hadn’t lied to her parents, they would still be together. Her father would be talking to her, and she and her sister would be close friends. If only she’d been a good girl, a good person.
The lights dimmed after Jared managed to get the reporter and the cameraman to wait outside.
Lizzy gazed out into the sea of people—all waiting to see what she had to say for herself. The room was jam-packed with people. Where had they all come from? She reached out a hand, reaching out to anyone who would listen. “I was only trying to help. I never meant to hurt anyone. I’m sorry. I am so sorry.”
Chapter 24
Friday, February 19, 2010 6:26 PM
Cathy listened to the tutor explain how he was going to help Brittany with math. Mr. Gilman liked to teach his students to focus on skills like handling whole numbers and fractions, he told her. Instead of drilling students on the same type of problems, he believed in conceptual understanding—whatever the hell that meant. He tutored dozens of kids who went to Brittany’s school and therefore he was familiar with the school’s curriculum.
Cathy kept her eyes on Mr. Gilman’s, but it wasn’t easy because he had a crooked nose and big ears that begged for her full attention. The man talked fast, his words sounding like gibberish. But then again, she’d never been a math whiz, and she really had no idea of what he was talking about. As he rambled on about ‘computational fluency’ her attention shifted to the interior of his house—quaint, but eerily quiet. Twice, she’d detected a hint of mold, and yet the interior of the house appeared freshly painted. Other than the whooshing sound of the flag whipping about the pole in the front yard, there were no other sounds. No running dishwasher or television in the background. No distant humming of a washer or dryer. But there was something—an occasional hollow banging sound in the backyard or basement, most likely caused by the wind—hard to tell.
Mr. Gilman finally turned his attention on Brittany. Her daughter flipped through her math book to show him what chapter her class was on. Despite the smell, the living room was neat and orderly.
Brittany lifted a brow when Cathy looked her way—Cathy’s signal to “go to the car and wait outside.”
“It was nice meeting you,” Cathy told Mr. Gilman. “I better let you two get to work.”
The man seemed nice enough. But there was something odd about Mr. Gilman that made her feel uneasy. “I’ll be waiting in my car,” she said, pointing outside.
His eyes widened. “It’s much too cold. Find a magazine over there and make yourself comfortable in the family room if you’re not heading home.”
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “I have a book in the car and I can always turn on the heat.” Now that he’d offered to let her stay, she felt better about waiting outside.
A spider skittered across the floor in front of her. She jumped, and then laughed at the high-pitched squeal that had escaped her.
Brittany shook her head, clearly embarrassed. “It’s just a bug, Mom.”
The spider scampered away, disappearing in some hidden crevice. “Looks like it’s time to call the pest control people,” Mr. Gilman said.
Cathy managed a tight smile and headed out the door. A flurry of cold air hit her face. She walked down the walkway toward her car, aware of every sound, every movement. She breathed in a lungful of newly mowed grass which brought her some sense of normalcy. The moon was bright and full, lighting her way to the car.
Was Lizzy’s madman out there now watching her?
Tempted to shout out at him, she held her tongue. For the first time in all these years, she realized she might be experiencing a tiny bit of what Lizzy had been going through.
Shivers coursed over her.
Is this what it felt like to be afraid of one’s own shadow?
Cathy looked at the house across the street. The television flickered in the living room. With her hand on the car handle, she looked back over her shoulder, relieved to see the kitchen light in Mr. Gilman’s house reflecting in such a way that she could make out her daughter’s silhouette. She opened the door and slid in behind the wheel of her car. Then she locked the door and waited.
Friday, February 19, 2010 7:48 PM
Hayley Hansen watched Lizzy being ushered away by the same man who had protected her from the media inside the gym. The two of them took off in his car before Hayley had a chance to talk to Lizzy. She’d wanted to tell Lizzy she was sorry she left so suddenly the other night and that she appreciated Lizzy taking the time to help kids like herself. There weren’t too many good people left in the world. She knew that firsthand.
Hayley didn’t like what the ignorant boy said to Lizzy. Even the reporter had known better, but at least it was her job to ask dim-witted questions. Not one person in that gym tonight had any idea of what Lizzy Gardner had been through. Hayley didn’t know all the details either, but she knew a troubled soul when she met one.
She sat on the curb, elbows propped on her knees, and watched the media people pack up their cameras and lights, filling their trucks and vans with expensive equipment without any care as to the trouble they had just caused. Tonight, some students might have learned something if they’d been given half a chance to listen to what Lizzy had to say. Hayley had heard it all before, but nobody ever touched her heart in the way Lizzy did when she spoke. Lizzy talked to the kids as equals, as someone who had been there. Lizzy had spent time with the devil himself and lived to talk about it.
Hayley didn’t have to be abducted to know what it was like to play with the devil’s fire. She lit up a Marlboro and took a long drag, filling her lungs with formaldehyde, ammonia, and hydrogen sulphide.
As the news truck revved its engine, and the last of the cars pulled out of the parking lot, the petite reporter sitting in the passenger side of the truck rolled down her window and stuck her head out.
Hayley blew smoke from her lungs and watched the lady’s shiny brown hair fly every which way around her heart-shaped face.
It was so windy tonight the smoke disappeared the second it seeped through Hayley’s lips. There would be no blowing smoke rings in this weather.
“Do you need a ride somewhere?” the reporter asked.
It was Friday night. Where would she go? Back home to be sodomized by one of her mother’s drunk friends? “No, thanks. I’m good.” Hayley took another drag off her cigarette.
“Are you sure? Is someone coming to pick you up?”
“Yeah. They should be here any second.” It wasn’t like one more lie was going to stop her from going to hell.
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
Hayley watched the reporter roll the window back up. It must be one of those older model trucks because the reporter had to actually put some muscle into working the handle to get the window rolled up tight. Hayley wondered if that was the most work the woman had done all week. She felt a twinge of guilt for judging the reporter. Hayley knew firsthand that a person really couldn’t judge a book by its cover. She learned that lesson right after she was sent to live with her grandfather when she was eight years old. Her grandfather had looked like such a nice old man. Who would have guessed?
Even as the truck pulled away, the reporter lady stared at her worriedly. Hayley waved, hoping to ease the woman’s mind. Nice jewelry, perfect hair, straight white teeth...she wished the woman no ill-will just because she might have been dealt a better hand in life than most.
Hayley took one last drag before dropping the cigarette on the asphalt. She used the heel of her boot to snuff it out. It would be easy to start a fire in this wind. But she was no pyro. She never understood people who liked to damage people’s property just for the hell of it.
She looked around. The lot was empty. Darkness quickly descended as dark billowy clouds gathered overhead. The temperature had dropped dramatically since she’d arrived an hour ago.
She thought about heading off, but then she felt his eyes on her. Yeah, he was here all right. He’d come. She knew he would. He was watching Lizzy. According to the media, he had left her a personal note, letting Lizzy Gardner know that he was back in business.
Sophie Madison had attended more than one of Lizzy’s self-defense classes, which told her that Spiderman was targeting anyone who had anything to do with Lizzy Gardner. The media had also mentioned that Lizzy would be speaking at the school tonight, which meant he was here...somewhere...watching.
Yeah, the crazy asshole wanted Lizzy, but tonight she hoped he would settle for someone a little younger and a little tougher. She knew enough about him to know he wouldn’t want anything to do with her. But here she was sitting in the dark, all alone; how could he resist?
Bait.
Cops used bait all the time to catch drug dealers and prostitutes. It worked on fish and it worked on humans who couldn’t say no to a little temptation.
She’d read all about Spiderman. She probably knew more about him than he knew about Lizzy. He stalked his victims, learned all about their fears—their likes and dislikes.
He didn’t know a thing about Hayley Hansen though. He had no idea that the scariest thing he could do to her was take her home. She inwardly smiled as she dug deep into her coat pocket to make sure her three-inch knife with the gut hook was there. Clipped to her boot was a double-edged boot knife, a basic survival tool. And last but not least, a sleek tactical folding knife was tucked away in her nylon gym shorts beneath her jeans in case of emergency.
She had anticipated his arrival. What puzzled her, though, was if she knew he’d be watching Lizzy, why hadn’t the FBI figured that out? Where were the guys in black when you needed them?
She’d come up with the plan a few days ago. That was the real reason she went to see Lizzy—to talk about baiting Spiderman out of hiding. But the exhaustion on Lizzy’s face had prompted her to change her mind...at least until she saw Lizzy’s face plastered on every news station tonight. That’s when Hayley decided to catch the killer on her own. Apparently, Hayley and Lizzy had something else in common. They both took in misplaced guilt as if it was nourishment. Why else would Spiderman have sent Channel 10 a letter putting all the blame for his actions on Lizzy? Because he knew she would feel guilty, and he relished the thought of making Lizzy miserable. Spiderman didn’t like the idea of Lizzy getting stronger every day.
In case this didn’t go as planned, Hayley pulled out the letter she’d written to Lizzy and shoved it into the crevice between the moist grass and the
cement curb. She didn’t want Spiderman to see what she was doing, nor did she want the wind to blow the paper away. If he came after her, she planned to kill him. But just in case something went wrong, she wanted to leave evidence. Lots of kids waited for their parents on this very curb day after day. Sooner or later, somebody was bound to find the letter.
The claps of thunder and swoosh of the wind didn’t drown out his approaching footfalls.
She wanted to light up another cigarette. Instead, she reached down and unclipped the knife from her boot. Killing him and taking out her frustrations on a hateful killer sounded a lot better than going home and being raped by one of her mother’s drug-dealing boyfriends.
He was right behind her. She could smell his aftershave—a killer who took showers on a regular basis. Who knew?
The moment she felt his hand slide around her neck, she lifted her body upward and plunged the knife hard and fast over her shoulder. The blade sunk deep. A grunt along with a sickening suctioning noise sounded as she pulled the knife out of him. Despite the blood spurting in all directions, mostly onto the side of her neck and face, he hadn’t keeled over.
What the hell?
He reached for her again.
She lunged with her knife again, but he sidestepped and grabbed hold of her face. He held a damp cloth over her nose and mouth. Twisting and turning, she managed to get a look at him, but he wouldn’t give an inch. He was strong. And he was suffocating her.
Again and again, she swiped at him with her knife, but her arms hardly moved. He grinned, the same sort of lewd smile plastered on Brian’s face every time he unzipped his pants.
The only difference was that Spiderman didn’t look spaced out on drugs and alcohol. He knew exactly what he was doing. His eyes were wide and alert. With his full head of hair and a strong square jaw, he looked like he could be a teacher or a lawyer. He looked like a law-abiding citizen for God’s sake.