by James Andrus
She’d told her boyfriend, Derek, that during spring break he was free to see anyone he wanted just like she was. At the time she said it, with him looking like a puppy in front of her, she only halfway meant it. By halfway she meant she should be able to see people on break and he shouldn’t. It was funny when she’d told her girlfriends, but now she felt guilty thinking about him at his parents’ house in Pensacola. He was probably playing Nintendo Wii with his little brother and a couple of the buddies he grew up with. She doubted he was at the clubs looking at other girls. Right now she knew she couldn’t say much about it if he was. This was definitely one of those incidents she’d never bring up. She knew it was wrong. She hadn’t even told her girlfriends where she was going or who she was seeing. It felt dirty but in a sexy kind of way.
She even briefly thought about her parents and how she was certain her father still thought she was a virgin. She’d made sure he kept that idealized vision of her and only brought home the best possible husband candidates. Deep down she doubted Derek would make the cut. He was cute and funny, but he was getting his degree in psychology and her father would say that is a waste of time and not much of a potential income earner. She viewed it much the same way. If she played her cards right, she knew she could see Derek for the rest of the semester and maybe start over again with an engineering student or maybe even an accounting student in the fall.
She had to stop linking sex to getting the Ecstasy tabs; it made her feel too much like a prostitute.
The beach was so deserted no one even noticed them on the blanket Ann had brought. He tried to get her to take the X before they went into the water, but she said she had to drive and didn’t think it was safe. He knew that was the least of her worries. He thought about it and decided the Ecstasy in her system wasn’t necessary because she’d just be another drowning victim not used to the riptides of the Atlantic Ocean.
He rolled off her with a grunt and started to peel off his condom, saying, “That was great.”
She stayed flat on her back, mashed into the sand, with no real expression on her face, but her eyes cut to him and she suddenly sat up, wiping grains of sand from her lopsided breasts while checking up and down the beach to make sure no one surprised them. She mumbled, “Yeah, great. I’m going for a swim.” With that she struggled to her feet in the soft sand and trotted into the water alone.
This was exactly what he wanted, even if it wasn’t with the enthusiasm he’d expected. Now it was time to feel the real power of life and death. It was time to bring down his last antelope of the season. As he stepped into the cool surf he had an odd feeling. Usually he enjoyed being a big cat prowling the open plain, but now, with the water gently rolling over his feet and seeing Ann’s blond head bobbing in the ocean, he suddenly felt like a great, South American crocodile. He slipped into the water accordingly with his head up, arms at his side and feet pushing along the bottom. He envisioned wrapping her in a giant death hug and spinning in the water like a crocodile until she had drowned. In fact, he had to make it appear completely accidental. He’d drawn too much attention with Allie Marsh already. He’d figure out a way to get her underwater and leave her there.
He gauged their distance, then plunged underwater, racing toward her like a crocodile on the hunt.
Tony Mazzetti liked clearing homicides in and around Jacksonville. He liked piecing together the puzzles each case presented. Some cases needed a lot of interviews and had witnesses coming out the wazoo. Some cases needed help from forensics, and the nerds in the lab made him look good on a regular basis. In some cases, a few precious cases, there was media coverage with a spotlight that made him shine. He liked those the best and always tried to send the news clips to his mother.
But this was one aspect of police work wasn’t crazy about. He didn’t like tactical situations. He never enjoyed kicking in doors or even drawing his gun if he didn’t have to. That’s what the goddamn SWAT team was for. This was not a fact he had ever shared with anyone else for fear of being labeled a coward. Cops were paid to risk their lives sometimes. And he did-he just didn’t enjoy it like some screwballs did. He had no idea if this guy, Jason Ferrell, was dangerous or not. But now was not the time to voice those concerns.
As he crept up the driveway of Miss Brison’s house, he crouched down and stuck a folding knife in the Mustang’s front tire. He looked over his shoulder as the air hissed out of the tire and said to Christina Hogrebe, “A little insurance.” A moment later he was at the front door of the clapboard house with his partner right behind him. Patty Levine and Stallings were covering the rear of the house. This time when they asked to speak to the white man of the house he’d have nowhere to flee.
He pounded on the front door, not caring if he startled anyone inside and frankly hoping to scare their target out the back door. It only took a moment for the front door to open a crack and Miss Brison’s pretty face to appear.
“Whatchu making all that racket for? This house ain’t so big I can’t hear a knock at the front door.”
She sounded much sharper tonight than she had the last time they had spoken. Mazzetti didn’t want to risk losing this guy, so he wasted no time stepping through the front door and forcing Miss Brison backward as he did. He scanned the room quickly as his partner stepped past him and did a quick scan of each room down the hallway on her way to the kitchen. Mazzetti heard her open the back door in the kitchen, and Stallings appeared with her at the end of the hallway.
Mazzetti turned to Miss Brison. “Okay, where is he?”
“Who?”
“Jason Ferrell.”
Her eyebrows arched. “Who?”
“Jason Ferrell, the man we saw walking in here from the blue Mustang.”
“Oh, you mean Chuck. I like to call him Chuck.”
“You can cut the shit. We’re not leaving here unless we have Chuck with us. Now where is he?” The house wasn’t that big and certainly wouldn’t be considered cluttered, but he knew their fugitive had to be in here somewhere.
Calmly, Miss Brison pointed over Mazzetti’s shoulder toward the front door and said, “No need to fuss, sugar. He’s right there.”
Mazzetti turned to see a man slip from the curtains and out the front door in a heartbeat. He called back to Stallings and Christina and raced after him. He cleared the front door and took a second to scan each side of the house, then heard the engine to his Crown Vic rumble to life.
“Oh shit.” He sprang across the porch and down the three steps, pulling his pistol as the car squealed away from the curb and headed down the street. Mazzetti considered squeezing off a few rounds even though his life was not in danger. He wished it was with the embarrassment he was about to suffer.
From behind him he heard Stallings say, “Tony, you dumb shit, did you leave your keys in the car?” Stallings didn’t wait for an answer as he darted for his Impala. A few seconds later they were racing after Mazzetti’s car.
Forty-eight
Ann seemed distant as they floated in the water, but it didn’t really matter now. He knew exactly what had to happen. He swam next to her, his toes barely touching the sandy bottom while Ann had to tread water. He tried to kiss her, but she turned her head. He started to feel the power of the predator surge through him as he approached her from behind, wrapped his arms around her, sucked in a deep breath, then, in one quick motion, squeezed the air out of her and pulled her under the surface.
For a moment he thought she’d offer no resistance. Then she struggled and started to flail her arms and legs, but he kept up his pressure and dragged her to the ocean floor. He couldn’t spin like he wanted to. Like a crocodile would. But he knew in a second, as her struggling grew weaker, he’d absorb her life force as it leaked out of her.
Then, he didn’t know if it was by accident or on purpose, the back of her head struck him hard in the face. He loosened his grip for a second, and one of her feet came up between his legs. He felt the air knocked out of his lungs, and he had nowhere to suck in new
oxygen.
When he floated to the surface a moment later, he could hear her kicking away toward shore, screaming, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Horsing around is one thing, but you almost drowned me!”
He started to regain his composure and slowly swam toward her into the shallow water and then matched her step for step as she marched toward the blanket that held their clothes.
“I’m sorry. Come back into the water, and let’s swim.”
“Are you crazy? You’re an asshole.” Her voice cracked with a sob.
“Come on, baby, I did you a favor by fucking you on the beach. Now I want to swim with you.”
She turned, her naked body clearly visible in the moonlight, her eyes wide. “I know you didn’t say that.” But before he could respond, she swung her mean right hand and struck him in the eye, following it up immediately with a hard kick into his exposed genitals. He dropped to the wet sand gasping for air.
Almost a minute later, when he had the strength to raise his head, all he could see was an empty beach. Ann was gone and had taken all of their clothes with her.
Ann still gasped for breath, even though she was away from him and only standing in waist-deep water. Now she felt vulnerable standing naked on a public beach even if there was no one around. She didn’t know why guys thought shit like that was funny, but she really couldn’t breathe. He may not have realized it. Maybe it had something to do with all she had to drink that afternoon. But that didn’t change the fact that this guy was an asshole. She couldn’t believe some of the things he’d just said to her. She realized she shouldn’t be naked on the beach with a guy she barely knew, so far from home, but that didn’t excuse the fact that he had no class and was no gentleman.
She was furious. As he came back toward her again she swung hard with her right fist, then threw her left leg up to catch him solidly in the groin. Her karate instructor she’d had for one year when she was eleven would have been proud of her form. She felt a deep satisfaction as he tumbled onto the sand as if he was about to spit up.
Then a new thought hit her. What if he was into that auto-asphyxiation crap? He could’ve done that on purpose and really gone too far. She didn’t know if he’d been drinking too. The cocky son of a bitch could’ve drowned her and wouldn’t even have realized it.
Now, among the alcohol, stress, and adrenaline dump, she suddenly felt very tired. For some reason that exhaustion made her think about the Ecstasy tab in the front pocket of her jeans. It would give her energy and put her into a good mood. But she wanted to get away from this jerk first.
She felt a little guilty leaving him gasping for air and naked in the surf. She looked up and down the beach. Still empty. Serves him right. She quickly slipped on her clothes, not even bothering to dry her hair. As she walked up, bundling up her towel, she wondered how bad her craving for Ecstasy would be once this last pill was gone. She hoped she never had to see this guy again.
Stallings ignored Mazzetti’s incessant chatter and concentrated on where he would turn, searching for the stolen police car. He left Christina and Patty at the house to see if they could find out anything from the very odd Miss Brison. Stallings was pretty sure he didn’t want Patty to be a witness to what might happen if they caught the elusive Jason Ferrell.
Stallings reached for his radio, but before he could mash the button, Mazzetti put his hand on Stallings’s arm and said, “Let’s leave this off the air for now.”
“Tony, what are you talking about? It’s a fucking pursuit.”
Mazzetti used a low tone and said, “Come on, Stall, if this gets out, I’ll never live it down.”
Stallings hesitated, then tossed the radio back onto the seat. It wasn’t smart, but he understood what a veteran detective like Mazzetti was thinking. As he was about to suggest a different area to search, the Crown Vic rolled through an intersection, almost striking them. Stallings spun the wheel of the Impala hard, cutting through someone’s front yard, and squealed the tires on the pavement as the Impala came up behind Jason Ferrell and Mazzetti’s Crown Vic.
Now the chase was on.
This was humiliating. Ann had left him naked, bruised, and with no car keys. They were in the front pocket of the shorts that had been sitting on the blanket. Now he huddled in the bushes of the park, trying to figure out a way home. He already had devised new ways this bitch would pay for her treachery. Instead of feeling the power of the predator he was scared, sore, and twitching to get revenge.
Then he saw an opportunity. A teenage couple sitting on a low wall around the parking lot. He couldn’t risk violence with them because his Jeep would identify him as the culprit. But he did think he could talk them into helping by explaining he’d been robbed. All he needed was a ride back to his apartment. It wasn’t too far.
He called from the bushes, “Hey guys, can you help me out?”
The heavyset young man and his pretty dark-haired girlfriend looked around to see where the voice was coming from.
He stood, letting the bushes cover him partially. “You guys. I’ve been robbed and I need a little help.”
This time the young man turned completely around and saw him. He left his girlfriend on the wall and stepped over toward the bushes. “Man, you naked or what?”
“Yeah, I’m naked, and I can’t get into my Jeep.” He pointed across the lot. “I’ll make it worth your while if you give me a ride back to my apartment.”
“I don’t know, man. My girl and me like the beach.” He glanced back over at the pretty girl and added, “Hang on for me to see what she says.”
He waited a moment while the two conferred. They stood together and walked across the lot, ignoring him as they approached his Jeep. The young man turned, and shouted, “I can get into your Jeep.”
He called back to the young man, “Really?”
The man didn’t answer. Instead he bent over, picked up a large rock off the ground and smashed the passenger side window of his Jeep. He had the door open in a second and was rummaging around inside. The girl kept watch on him, giggling the whole time.
They couldn’t do this to a predator. He darted out of the bushes, letting his natural athlete’s body drop into full long strides. He was so fast that by the time the girl could turn around to warn her boyfriend he was on top of him.
The fat young man stepped out of the Jeep to meet him but instead was greeted with a full-body block into the side of the Jeep that snapped his head so hard he fell to the ground semiconscious. The girl screamed, but he turned and with the long arc of his left hand smacked her in the face, sending her to the ground next to the boy. Her body twisted on the impact, knocking her brown bikini top askew. She didn’t cry as she glared back at him, the wide red splotch of the strike across her cheek.
“Don’t explain what you could do to make up for the broken window. First, you can give me a shirt and pants.”
The young man just stared at him, not moving.
“I mean right now.” He snarled each word carefully.
The young man slipped off his T-shirt and tossed it to him.
“The pants too,” he said snapping his fingers to speed things.
The young man scurried to stand and slip off his baggy shorts and tossed them over.
He reached in the pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “These belong to that piece a shit Toyota over there?”
The young man nodded furiously.
The young woman gazed at him, rubbing her cheek.
He said, “This is what we’re gonna do. We are gonna walk back to your car. You’re gonna let me borrow it. Then I’ll it bring back to you while you wait over there in the bushes.” He paused for effect, then added, “naked.”
The girl stood.
“Both of you naked starting right now, and you really don’t want to piss me off again.” He had regained his stature as a predator and watched as the young man slipped off the multicolored underwear he wore and the girl first peeled off her cockeyed bikini top, then shimmied out of shorts,
displaying a very attractive ass.
He led them both back to the same bushes where they’d found him.
“Not a peep out of you until I get back.” He could tell by the look in their eyes they understood how serious he really was.
Forty-nine
Stallings didn’t like being in a pursuit that wasn’t authorized and in an area decidedly unfriendly to police officers, next to a cop he would prefer not to be in the same car with. But that didn’t stop him from doing his best to close in on the stolen Crown Vic. He, like most cops, didn’t get in many chases, and the Impalas they issued the detectives weren’t designed for highspeed chases and cornering the way some of the patrol cars were. But luckily Jason Ferrell wasn’t much of a driver and he clearly had no idea of where he wanted to go. That was the case with most people fleeing the police.
They were very close to the house where the pursuit had started, but Stallings wanted to wait until they were in an area with wider streets. He didn’t want to risk this moron losing control of the Crown Vic and driving through someone’s bedroom wall. Instead, he gave the young man space and backed off several car lengths.