by S. E. Green
Bucky holds his hands up. “Stop!”
I look into his eyes. Really look. And see fear there. That is the exact look I’m waiting for. I grab a handful of dirt and rub it into his face, and while he spurts, I yank a zip tie around his wrists and take a step back.
Breathing heavily, I look down at his pathetic body and remember him shoving me up against my Jeep. Dickweed. I also remember the first couple of people I took down and the mistakes I made. Look at me now, standing here unharmed. It’s too awesome. I raise my Taser.
“Don’t!” he screams, and my blood thumps. “God! What do you want? My wallet’s in my back pocket.”
I lower my voice and ask, “Are you JDL?”
“What? Shit. What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Who did the prostitute and the homeless boy? Who did Jacks?”
“What?” He tries to scoot away again. “I didn’t do anything to anybody.”
I kneel down and shove the Taser right in his face.
“Wait,” he pleads. “What do you want? I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
“Did Aisha do them?”
“Aisha?” He coughs. “She’s in jail!”
I know that, you idiot. “What do you know about the Masked Savior?”
He starts to cry. Unbelievable. Not so tough now.
“I’ve been on the site,” he blubbers. “I’ve posted a few things. But I promise I haven’t done anything wrong. I promise.”
“Have you been following me?”
“No,” he whimpers.
The smell of urine permeates the air, and I don’t even glance down to verify he’s peed himself. This guy doesn’t know anything. He’s scared shitless. Or rather, pissless.
“You will stop everything you are doing,” I tell him. “Masked Savior website, drugs to kids.” His eyes widen, and I think of how scared Justin was to tell me about this guy. I grab his throat and squeeze, and he sucks in a raspy breath. “Oh, yeah, I know all about the drugs.”
I release him and stand back up. “We clear?”
“Yes! Please, just don’t hurt me anymore.”
“If I hear your name again, I will find you and I will do so much more.” I turn away from him and disappear back down the trail. Sure, I left him zip-tied, but he can still get up and walk home. Or crawl for all I care.
After tonight Justin won’t have to be scared again. Because I meant what I said. If I hear Bucky’s name one more time, I will do so much more to that asswipe.
When I get back to my Jeep, I stow my mask and drive off. If this guy knew anything about j_d_l, he would’ve squealed. Bucky’s not my copycat. I saw the truth in his face.
Despite what the task force may or may not think, the fact is—as I’ve already surmised—until another victim shows up, I won’t know for sure if Aisha was or was not my impersonator.
As of right now I still think she may have been.
Chapter Thirteen
“THERE’S SOMETHING IN ME THAT needs out,” I tell everyone. “It craves release. Sometimes I feel I might explode if I don’t give in to it. Yet sometimes I do give in to it, and it’s . . . euphoric.” Orgasmic is what I want to say but figure that’s crossing a grief group’s line.
Silence reverberates in the already quiet room.
I swallow and sweep my steady gaze over the others. They all look back at me with a mixture of understanding, confusion, and awe.
The counselor steeples his clasped hands. “What a breakthrough you’ve had, Lane.”
I feel it too. It’s the first time I’ve freely spoken in group. Perhaps I’m more comfortable in my thoughts now. Or maybe it’s the fact I beat the shit out of Bucky and finally got some relief.
There’s more silence, then the counselor trains his gentle eyes on everyone else. “Anyone want to reply to that?”
No one responds. The counselor says a few closing remarks and we are all out the door.
At the Jeep, Tommy strolls over. “Let’s get out of here.”
I look at his motorcycle. “On that?”
“Yes.”
I’ve never been on a bike. After spilling my guts in grief group, it seems a bike ride might just be a good ending to this evening. Perhaps that’s why Tommy invited me. He knows. He can relate.
I stow my Jeep key. “Okay, let’s go.”
I climb on the back. He offers me a spare helmet and I fit it on. He swings his long leg over the front and revs the engine. It vibrates through my legs, across my stomach, over my breasts, and straight back down to my core.
“Hang on,” he throws over his shoulder.
I snake my arms under his leather jacket and around his warm, T-shirt-covered stomach a second before he roars away. I scoot forward a little bit until my front is completely merged with his back. It’s cold, but not freezing, as we zip the back roads to Great Falls Park.
We don’t stop and just keep going, rolling the hills of Virginia, up and down and switching right and left. I tilt my head back and gaze up at a clear, star-filled sky. I breathe out a long breath and watch it instantaneously crystallize and then whip away in the wind.
We keep going, and at some point I’m sure we have to be in another state, but we’re only in Vienna. I bring my focus back down and look to the right at the sprawling mansions twinkling in the winter darkness. What are the people doing inside those pretty places? Are they happy, content, fighting, grieving . . . ?
We come to a stop, he hangs a left on Chain Bridge, and I realize we’re heading back already. I want to ask him to keep going but don’t. Hopefully, he’ll ask me to do this again. Hopefully.
We go through Tysons Corner and straight back to downtown McLean, where my Jeep is parked.
Tommy pulls up behind my Wrangler and leaves his engine vibrating. I unsnake my arms from his stomach, slowly climb off, and stand for a second while my legs continue to pulse.
Tommy gives me a once-over. “Good?”
I hand him the helmet. “More than good.” God, I might just trade my Jeep in for a motorcycle. How stimulating. Freeing. And intoxicating.
“If you ever want to do it again, I hang out mostly at Tysons.” With that he drives off.
I watch him leave, filled, oddly enough, with the overwhelming urge to ask him to come back.
I want to do that again.
As I unlock my Jeep, something in my peripheral vision has me glancing up to see a person standing on the other side of the street, about a block down, staring at me. A man or a woman, I can’t tell in the nighttime shadows, but just as quickly as the person is there, he or she is gone.
Chapter Fourteen
THAT PERSON IS ALL I can think about the next day. Though I question myself if I really saw someone. I mean, a person doesn’t just disappear. Granted there was an alley nearby he or she could’ve gone down. But it really did seem like they just vanished. My brain has got to be playing tricks on me. People don’t just vanish. I walked up and down the street afterward, looking for the phantom person and not seeing him.
I don’t know. I just don’t know. Could it have been j_d_l?
“Remember that situation I was telling you about?” Kyle asks me, and I glance up from my lunch. “Bucky?” he reminds me.
“Yeah.”
“Somebody really roughed him up.”
I eat a fry. “You don’t say.”
Kyle’s eyes narrow, just a fraction. “Did you already know that?”
“Nope.”
He doesn’t immediately respond, then he lowers his voice and says, “I wish I would’ve been the one to do it.”
I’ve never heard Kyle talk that way before. I take a big gulp of water and wait for whatever he wants to say next.
Instead he takes a step back. “Well, then, see you around.”
“Yeah, see you around.”
After school Justin makes sure Daisy is busy on her phone and whispers to me, “Bucky got beat up.”
I whisper back, “Mean people deserve that.”
His hazel eyes do that wide, innocent thing. “Annie said her brother isn’t going to be living with them anymore.”
“That’s good.”
“I told my teacher about the drugs.”
I smile at him. “I’m proud of you, Justin. I know that was scary.”
“My teacher said Bucky’s going to be in a lot of trouble with the police.”
“Yes, he will. Especially if you encourage all your friends to speak up too.”
“We did.”
I shift gears and pull onto Route 7 as Daisy keeps talking on her phone and Justin goes to looking out the window.
“Did the Masked Savior do it?” he asks a couple minutes later.
“I don’t know.”
“Lane, I think I might be scared of the Masked Savior.”
I snap my gaze over to him. “What? Why?”
“He used to be cool, but I heard he beat up some people who didn’t deserve it. That doesn’t sound right to me.”
I come to a stop at a red light as guilt nestles itself in. The last thing I would ever desire to do is scare my little brother. “Justin, listen to me. You can’t believe everything you hear. Rumors are just that. Gossip. Plus, this Savior person only targets bad people and definitely not kids. You’re not bad. You shouldn’t be scared.”
Justin doesn’t say anything else and goes back to staring out the window. I shoot him a worried glance, trying to figure out if I should say something but not really knowing what.
We get home a few minutes later, and Victor announces, “Gramps is coming to visit!”
This elicits a grin from Daisy, a hoot from Justin, and a deadpan expression from me. Let’s just say Gramps, Victor’s father, has never been my favorite. . . .
“Son, I’m telling you. There’s just something off with Lane,” I overhear Gramps say to Victor.
“She’s fine. She’s different, that’s all,” he defends me. . . .
“When’s he coming?” I ask.
Victor’s face brightens. “Tomorrow!”
My brother and sister explode with enthusiasm.
“For how long?” I ask next.
“A whole week!”
This is so not what I need right now.
Chapter Fifteen
AT EIGHT O’CLOCK THAT NIGHT I’m in the computer room at the public library, staring at the screen, waiting.
“My” site is the only link I have with j_d_l, and he hasn’t contacted me since the garbage-can episode.
Thirty minutes ago I sent him a THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO PLAY message that he hasn’t bothered to return.
It pisses me off.
Of all the times I need Reggie, it’s now. I want to know who’s maintaining this site and who the hell j_d_l is. But how would I even explain to Reggie that I want that information? There is no lie I can immediately think of.
I stand up, pace away, stare back at the screen. The lights blink in the library, indicating it’s closing.
Well, damn.
I log off and head out and stand in the library parking lot, looking around. I take a deep breath and blow it out, trying to settle myself. But it’s in there, deep inside, this anxiousness that needs out.
My brother is scared of the Masked Savior. Which just irritates me all to hell. I want to get out and prowl and figure out this j_d_l and copycat mess but I know the smart thing to do is lay low.
The problem is, I’m not feeling like I want to be smart. Plus . . . Gramps is coming.
I close my eyes and blow out another breath, but it’s not working. I need something. Now. I imagine this is why people turn to drugs and alcohol. Release. With this thought Zach floats into my mind. . . .
Followed by Tommy. I could use another ride on his bike. That will help with this energy festering in me. Yes, Tommy. I jump in my Jeep and peel out.
If you ever want to do it again, I hang out mostly at Tysons.
Ten minutes later I park at the mall and head inside. I hate it here. The crowds. The crying babies. People packing the walkways with shopping bags. Music blaring out of stores. Way too many smells: perfume, food, herbs.
Yeah, I hate the mall.
But it’s where Tommy likely is, so I start walking around, looking in stores, up and down the corridors, and repeat on all the levels.
If only I had his cell number.
Back on floor one I finally give up, buy a cup of coffee, and wander into a bookstore. I round the nonfiction aisle, heading to the pet section, and there he is, sitting in a chair, his blond head ducked as he reads a book on . . . Charles Manson. Huh.
I check out his arm tats again. They’re not the typical vine thing most guys wear. They’re colorful and patterned. “Hey,” I say.
Tommy glances up and pure surprise widens his dark blue eyes. “Well, hey.”
“I was looking for you,” I honestly tell him.
He closes the book. “Need to get out of here?”
“Yes.”
He slips his arms into his black leather jacket. I throw my full coffee away. Without another word we walk out to his motorcycle. He wedges the spare helmet on my head and, holding my gaze, snaps the chin strap. We climb on. My arms find their way under his jacket and around his warm stomach, and I cling as he heads through the night.
I lift my face and stare at the stars, close my eyes and breathe in the cold. I smile and my lips vibrate on a gust of wind. I wonder where he’ll take me tonight. Hopefully, like last time, switchbacking on a winding road.
He accelerates onto the interstate, and I duck behind him to hide from the freezing wind. He whips to the right and around a van, then cuts in front and swerves to the left.
Wait, what the hell is he doing?
He picks up speed, flies back to the right, slides into the emergency lane, and zips past a semi.
“Tommy!” I yell, but he doesn’t hear me.
Several people honk as he zigzags between the semi and a dump truck, hovers over the yellow dotted line, and peels straight down a row of cars.
My stomach clenches and I squeeze him tighter, hanging on for what feels like my life.
More people honk, a siren pierces the air, and Tommy slices back to the right and off the ramp. He runs a red light, peels into a parking lot and down and around an empty office building. He cuts his engine and waits.
What an asshole.
The cop dashes past, not even seeing us.
Breathing heavily, Tommy finally turns to me. “Was that awesome or what?”
I sniff my frozen nose. “No! No, that wasn’t awesome. Take me back right now.”
His face falls.
What was I thinking? This isn’t what I wanted. This isn’t what I was looking for. This isn’t anything like the other night. This was reckless and stupid. He could’ve killed us!
Tommy turns around, flicks his engine back on, and slowly, normally, takes me back to Tysons. I don’t say a word as I hand him his helmet and charge off.
As I’m unlocking my Jeep, a car cranks, and then revs. The rev is what has me glancing up to see a dark BMW all the way on the other side of the almost empty aboveground garage.
I don’t think twice before I take off in a full sprint straight toward it. I want to know who the hell’s following me! The car peels out and I keep running. Its tires squeal as it races down the ramp, and I increase my pace, staring at the license plate. I get a partial. A1B. It speeds through the exit, gets honked at, takes a left, and is gone.
I come to a stop, panting, watching it until it disappears from sight.
A1B. A
t least I have that much. I know now that I didn’t imagine the threat of the BMW and the woman driver who is highly probably j_d_l.
Chapter Sixteen
I DON’T NORMALLY SIT IN the cafeteria and look around. I typically read while eating and then head to the library. But today I linger over my taco salad and take the time to watch, to observe. How many of them have been on “my” site?
Over to the right sits Kyle with his other buddies, laughing, talking, seemingly having a grand time.
Straight ahead is Daisy, hanging with a few of her cheerleading friends and a new guy I don’t recognize. She’s flirting with him, and by the way he’s grinning, he loves the attention.
To the left is Zach, with some of his soccer pals and a girl I recognize from the sophomore class. The girl giggles and tosses a fry at him, and he laughs and dodges it.
Maybe that’s one of the reasons Zach decided he can’t be my friend anymore. Because I don’t giggle and toss fries.
Way over near the soft-serve machine is a girl crying. Her friends console her, looking at each other, lost as to what to truly do. A few people in the cafeteria glance their way, then dismiss it. Drama.
I watch her for a minute, puzzling over her freedom of emotion. This is why I’m happy I am who I am. I don’t ever want to be that way. That open. That out there. That exposed.
Daisy walks straight toward me, and I snap out of my staring. “Lane, I want you to meet Hammond.”
I nod. “Hello, Hammond.”
Daisy smiles at him and it’s a true smile, not the fake flattery she used to give. “Hammond just moved here from Kentucky. He’s a junior.”
Hammond shakes my hand. “Daisy’s told me a lot about you.”
This surprises me.
“All good!” Daisy clarifies as if reading my mind.
“Your sister says everyone calls you Slim?”
“Yes. You can call me Lane if you want.”
“Well, anyway”—Daisy nods over her shoulder—“I’ll show you where your next class is.”
They head off, and I’m not sure why, but my gaze tracks back over to Zach to see him looking at me. He gives me a very tiny acknowledging smile, and I return the gesture. How do I look to him, sitting here alone eating a taco salad and staring at everybody else?