Cuts like a knife

by Dana Monahan

  Later that night, Brad threw on his black sweats with an all-black T-shirt and sneaked out of his bedroom window. He crept past Trent's house and silently made his way to Sierra's front porch. Her mom's car was gone, so he walked up and knocked on the door.

  "Who is it?" Sierra called from the other side of the door. "It's Brad. I thought you might like some company." he began to feel a little nervous when it took her a minute to respond.

  Her eyes narrowed on him. "What do you want?" With legs bare, she answered the door in a long shirt. "Or don't bother to answer that, I think I can guess." Leaning against the door frame, she blocked his entrance.

  "Well, like you said. Billie doesn't have to know."

  "I guess I had a change of heart. I thought taking something of Billie's would make me feel good, but I was wrong. You see, Brad, it was never really about you."

  "Man, I don't even know you anymore. I hear rumors, now I guess they're all true." With one last look of disgust, Brad turned to head home.

  "Who the hell are you to judge me? You didn't even bother putting up a fight. I thought you’d be a challenge." Her voice

  was loud in the silence of night, but Brad never turned around.

  After Brad left, Sierra found she couldn't sleep. When she was younger, she would walk up to Devil's Rock in the night to sit and watch the stars. A few times, Billie had been up there doing the same thing. Without parents around to talk to, they would meet in secret and help each other through some lonely nights.

  "What the hell," she muttered to herself and called Billie. After throwing on a pair of shorts and thongs she was ready to go. An owl hooted in the darkness and a few bats scattered from a tree at her approach. The fresh night air had already soothed her nerves and she was glad now that she came. A bright moon shed some light on the rock, so she found the grooves for her short climb, easily. When she pulled herself to the top, she looked up to find Billie smiling at her.

  "It's been a long time since we met up here. What brings you out at this time of night?" asked Billie in a friendly tone.

  A pair of old jeans covered her legs and her bright yellow tank

  top seemed to glow in the dark.

  "Oh, I have a little problem that’s bothering me and I can't sleep. What about you?"

  "It’s the same here. We used to be good at making each other feel better. What do you say we give it a shot?" Billie made room for Sierra to sit next to her. The steady flow of the waterfall crashing down into the pool below blocked out all other sounds, and Sierra had to raise her voice a little to be heard.

  "I think I might be pregnant. I'm a few days late." Sierra pulled up her legs and rested her head on top of her knees; Billie sat next to her in the same position.

  "How’d you let that happen?"

  Rolling her eyes heavenward, Sierra mumbled, "Oh Lord, spare me from dumb virgins."

  "Yeah, well at least I'm not the one worrying about it," Billie retorted. "Besides, that's not what I meant and you know it. Who’s the father?"

  For a few minutes, Sierra sat quietly at war with herself. She seemed to be ready to answer, but when she looked into Billie's eyes, something inside her held her back.

  "I don't know," she lied grimly. Telling Billie it was Brad would only make her feel bad, she realized with surprise.

  "I'll do whatever I can to help you. I don't know why you don't want to be friends anymore, but I'm still here if you need me." Reaching out, Billie took her hand, a simple gesture of long-time friendship.

  "I guess it was easier to push you away than have you see what a blow-it case I really am. Maybe I knew someday you'd have to pick between me and Kel, and I knew you would pick her. I can't handle being second choice." To her embarrassment, Sierra felt her eyes getting moist with tears.

  "Is that why you keep going after James? Because he doesn't want you or because Kel has him and you want something of hers?”

  "Maybe it’s both. Hey, nobody knows. Can we keep this a secret between us?"

  As if time had turned back for a few moments, Billie saw the young girl Sierra was reflected in her worried eyes. Her illusion was soon shattered by her next words. "What the hell am I going to do with a little brat?" She stood up, wiping off the back of her shorts. She started to climb down the rock, "Are you coming or what? Oh, what was your problem?" Sierra asked on the walk home.

  "You’ve already helped me with the answer. Since I love Brad, I think it’s okay."

  "You mean the virgin Billie is thinking of sinning? My, my, I'm shocked. You do it for all the right reasons and I do it for all the wrong ones. What a pair." Together they laughed. When they reached the spot where they would go their separate ways, they hugged and Billie headed off towards home.

  "Billie," Sierra called after her. "You'll always be a friend in my heart, and I'm sorry."

  "What in the world are you sorry about?" Billie asked, but Sierra ran home without giving her an answer.

  ------------------

  At school a week later, with the hustle and bustle of students trying to get to their next class, Billie passed Mandy and Sierra in the hall. Billie smiled and waved, but Sierra only gave her a slight nod of her head. Things were back to normal. Sierra was back to being a distant friend.

  Billie opened her locker to get her history book when a folded note with her name on it fell to the ground. She opened it to see Sierra's handwriting. Two words, "False alarm," stood alone in the middle of the white sheet. As Billie was folding the sheet back up, Kelly walked up behind her.

  "What's that?" she asked about the note.

  "It is nothing; nothing at all." Wadding up the paper, Billie threw it in the first trash can she saw.

  Chapter 8

  It was a slow night at Leroy’s, Sierra noticed as she checked out the joint in a quick glance. Two guys still dressed in their work clothes, signs of grease still smeared on their clothes, were playing a game of pool with the waitress, a skinny brunette in a short black skirt, and two older gents, smoking cigars, sat at the bar each drinking a Martini.

  Sierra had stopped by to pick up some stash from Ben and decided to stay for a few drinks. After doing a line in the bathroom, and tossing back a few shots of Tequila, she was feeling fine. She was just about to leave when James strolled in and took a seat at the bar. His clothes were also still dirty from work and a slight smudge of grease was smeared on his cheek. “Give me a beer, Charlie. I just put in some serious overtime and I’m beat.” James slid onto the bar stool and laughed at something the bartender said, but his smile faded when he took in his surroundings and saw Sierra in a back booth. He was sick of her game and decided to make things perfectly clear for her when she strutted over. No more Mr. Nice Guy. He was not interested; in fact, it went beyond that. Now he was just plain pissed off every time he saw her. “What the hell are you doing here?” The two with the cigars glanced over at his sharp tone of voice.

  “Why don’t we go out to your truck and talk?” She wasn’t daunted by his harsh tone and kept a seductive smile in place.

  “Why don’t you just get the fuck away from me?” James muttered through clenched teeth. Charlie set down James’ beer, glanced at Sierra, and discreetly looked away.

  “I wish you’d stop playing this game.” Sierra pulled a cigarette out of her purse, lit it, and exhaled the smoke slowly into James’ face.

  “I wish you were dead. It doesn’t get any clearer than that. Why don’t you take your cue and disappear.” James guzzled down his beer and set it on the bar with a loud thud. “I’ll take another, Charlie.”

  That’s fine. I just hope you keep your truck locked. Someone might decide to cause some serious damage.” With a sweet smile over her shoulder, Sierra walked out of the bar.

  James finished his second beer. “Shit. I could strangle that bitch. I’ll be right back. Have another one ready,” he ordered Charlie.

  Outside, James couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Sierra had grabbed the hunting knife from his tackle box in the fron
t seat and was slashing his seats. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He struggled with her for the knife, causing Sierra to cut her finger. She let go of the knife and pushed her bloody hand against his chest.

  “You are a bastard. Who do you think you are to treat me like shit?” Before James could respond, Sierra clawed at his face, leaving four angry welts across his cheek. He threw the knife into the parking lot and grabbed her by the shoulders with both hands. He brought his face down to hers, and Sierra flinched at the anger in his eyes. For a moment, she thought he was going to strike her, but he shoved her away and took off in his truck. “I guess he’s not interested. Why don’t you just leave him alone? Come to my house for a while. We could hang out.” Sierra turned when someone stepped out of the shadows. The parking lot was dark, but she recognized the voice.

  “Only in your dreams.” Sierra laughed. “Why would I want to be around a dweeb like you? I only used you, or haven’t you figured that out yet. We were together once and it made me sick.” James was gone, so Sierra took out her fury on the only other person around. “Are you following me? God, you’re pathetic.” She taunted, before heading to her car.

  “You shouldn’t talk to me like that.” It was a quiet whisper. The dark silhouette stooped to pick up the discarded knife.

  --------------------

  Sierra snorted the last of her crank and threw the empty vial in her purse. Her nose burned, and she swiped her hand across it to catch the slight drip. Cigarette smoke hung in the air and the stereo was blasting. She paced her bedroom, trying to figure out what to say to James. She had blown it, she knew that now. James wasn’t the type to put up with little temper tantrums. He had wanted her though, right before he pushed her away. She saw it in his eyes. At first she had thought it was anger, but now she realized he was fighting his attraction to her. How could he honestly pick Kelly over her? The drug surging through her veins gave her confidence, and she felt sure tonight she would finally have her way.

  Pulling open the fridge, she searched for one of her mom’s beers, found one hidden behind the milk, and gulped it down on her way back to her room. If she got him alone, he wouldn’t be able to turn her down. That was the problem, they had never been alone. It took a moment to pull off her tight jeans. She grabbed a white teddy out of her dresser and tossed it over her head. Perfect, she thought, glancing at her reflection. Sierra was so consumed by her plans for James, she didn’t notice, or hear with the radio blasting, a car drive up and pull to the side of the house.

  A long black coat added the finishing touch to her ensemble, and she ran to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of her mother’s wine, a musk candle and, out of the hall closet, she grabbed a white satin sheet. After stuffing it all into a yellow and white striped beach bag, she turned off the stereo, the lights, and walked out into the night air. A cool breeze rustled in her hair and lifted back her coat, exposing long legs encased in sheer white hose and the lacy bottom of her teddy. Without a glance back at the house, she hopped into her car and left in a cloud of dust. A few seconds later, the car in the shadows sputtered to life and followed a short distance behind.

  Gravel crunched under her tires as she drove up the long, unpaved road to James' manufactured home. All the lights were out and his red truck was gone. Sierra sagged with disappointment and started to leave, but then decided to play her game out. She strode up the walkway and to the front door. It was locked. In anger, she kicked the door and was surprised when a small object fell from the top of the porch light.

  "A key," she said to herself and laughed out loud. "It must be my lucky night."

  She gasped in surprise when she turned on the overhead light, her first sight being that of a huge oak entertainment center complete with large TV and CD player. Slowly, she took in the new furniture set and thick, plush beige carpet. Two log beams separated the dining room where an open walkway led to a kitchen filled with oak shelves and long counter spaces. She grabbed two glasses off a shelf and retraced her steps to the front entrance, where she turned off the light and went down a hallway with three unopened doors. The first door was to a bathroom in emerald green boasting of two sinks and a sunken tub. The next door opened to a bedroom converted into an office.

  Careful to turn the lights back off; she backed out of the room and headed for her final destination, James' bedroom. She was not disappointed. A king-size bed filled up most of the space. She walked over and threw her beach bag in the middle of it, and then sat down and bounced up and down to check its firmness. A long dresser sat back against the wall underneath a mirror half its size. The bathroom door was partially open, giving the view of a counter top cluttered with a brush, after shave, cologne and an electric shaver bag.

  Sierra opened up her beach bag and began to set the stage. The glow of the candle illuminated the bed, casting the rest of the room into shadow. She draped the satin sheet over the bed and put the wine and glasses on the floor beside the bed. With a satisfied smile, she lay back on the sheet to wait, luxuriating in the feel of satin against her flesh.

  Lost in her fantasy, she didn't notice prying eyes outside the bedroom window. With grim resolve, the intruder crept around to the front of the house. Sierra, hearing the front door close, sat up in anticipation.

  "I'm in here," she called out in a husky voice, slightly slurred from all the alcohol and crank. "I hope you don't mind my little surprise. I wanted to make a truce." She held her breath as she heard the sound of footsteps coming slowly down the hallway. She saw the silhouette in the doorway and turned her back for just a moment to reach down for the wine, her smile freezing upon her face when the silhouette took form in the candlelight. For a second, their gazes locked, and then she saw the knife. The killer’s hand arced down, embedding the blade in her heart. Eyes once filled with rage were now sad and flat.

  With a heavy heart, the killer wiped off the bottom of the blade’s handle, leaving James’ prints clear on the top. A single tear dropped onto the flickering candle casting the room into darkness again.

  -----------------

  Doug Cordel frowned at the unfamiliar car in the driveway. Where the hell was James? Stepping out of his pick-up, he pulled his baggy work pants over his slight paunch and wiped dirt-stained hands off on his brown flannel shirt. Stress and alcohol had dimmed his once fine looks, and deep lines etched his weather-worn features. He had just finished a late shift and needed to inform James of an early morning meeting. Being the superintendent meant long, hard hours, and he was looking forward to a good night's sleep. Weary eyes noted that the front door was slightly ajar as he made his way into the kitchen. After grabbing a cold beer out of the fridge, he sat down to wait.

  Silence hung heavy in the air. A slight feeling of apprehension settled in his stomach, compelling him forward. With slow, steady steps, he walked tentatively down the hall.

  "James, you in there?" he asked, stopping in front of the bedroom door. He hesitated a moment, then reached up and flicked on the switch. Light filled the room and his eyes were immediately drawn to the beautiful woman on the bed.

  "Oh, excuse me. I was just looking for James." Feeling flustered, he hurried back into the kitchen.

  Doug strained to hear some kind of movement from the bedroom but was met only with silence. Open eyes had stared vacantly at the ceiling, he now reflected. Something was dreadfully wrong. Returning to the bedroom, his fear was confirmed. The woman was dead.

  At first glance, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Her dark skin against that frilly white lace, yeah, real exotic all right. Looking below her face, he could see that blood had matted her sleek black hair to her left breast, and still seeped onto the once white sheet, leaving a dark red hue in its wake. Strong, callused hands shakily reached down to close each eye-lid and put an end to her haunted stare. His stomach cramped up, and he stumbled to the front porch to retch. Leaning precariously over the side railing, he sucked in long, deep breaths of air. With a now empty stomach and a sweat-lined
forehead, he reentered the house and called 911.

  Within ten minutes, a police car squealed to a halt in front of the house. Officer Joe Yale climbed out and with shrewd glances left and right, he took in the surroundings. His large frame tended to intimidate strangers, but those who knew him considered him a caring man.

  Doug's grim expression made him tense. Many times he had played surrogate father to a young James, giving advice and lending much needed support. Picking up James for fighting had been routine after his mama had up and left him without a word. She was now remembered as the town lush to everyone but Doug, who could only see the outside package. James had suffered for her betrayal because he had inherited his mother's looks and therefore his father's wrath, for Doug saw only her when he looked at James.

  Joe respected the man James had become despite his loveless upbringing. He knew his fighting was an outlet and he never fought anyone smaller or younger or those who didn't deserve a good licking.

  "What's the problem, Cordel? It sounded urgent,” Joe asked curtly as he approached Doug.

  "Follow me," said Doug, solemnly.

  "Damn, this is Sierra Lock. I know her mother, Pam, over at Denny’s. What the hell happened here?" he barked while bending down to inspect the scene.

  "I don't know," said Doug, hesitating. "I found her like this. I came by to give James a message. Maybe he did it, panicked and high-tailed it out of here."

  Joe straightened up, slid his hands in his back pocket and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. So much for a father's faith or the benefit of the doubt, he thought, not bothering to conceal a look of distaste.