Forgive Me, Alex

by Lane Diamond

  He slapped the table. "So, how are things going with your lovely Diana?"

  I leapt out of my seat. "Holy cats! I forgot all about her. She's probably been trying to call me all afternoon. Geez, I'm a dead man."

  Frank let me use his phone, and it barely completed the first ring before Mrs. Gregario's strained voice responded.

  "Hello, Mrs. G., this is Tony. I haven't been home to take Diana's calls. I imagine she's been trying to get in touch with me."

  "No, Tony, I'm sorry." She released a five-second sigh. "I was hoping she might have ended up with you."

  "You mean you still haven't found her?"

  "No. I've never been so worried, and I don't know what to do. Steven is out looking for her at some of her regular haunts. I hate to do it, but we may need to call the sheriff's office. This isn't like our girl. I can't imagine what's gotten into her, or what might have happened."

  Her palpable fear mirrored my sheer panic.

  What in hell is going on? How could she be missing?

  Missing: a simple word, an all too familiar state of being. A week ago, Alex had gone missing. Yesterday we'd buried him.

  Now Diana was missing. It must be something simple, an innocent mistake. It must be.

  Mrs. G. ran out of ideas about where Diana might be, and she paused, expecting me to offer some enlightenment. I could only offer to think about and call her later, or perhaps stop by their house.

  "Okay." Her voice, flat and utterly helpless, vanished with a click.

  Barely able to move, or breathe, I could only stare into unseen space, until Frank grabbed my attention with a tap on the shoulder.

  "Tony, what's going on?"

  I stared at him dumbly for a few seconds, and then filled him in on the events.

  "What? What in the world is...? How long has she been missing?"

  "I'm not sure." I recalled the earlier conversation with Mr. Gregario. "Since before eight o'clock this morning, less than eight hours after I left her at home. They don't know beyond that."

  "Good heavens."

  We flopped into our seats at the kitchen table and simultaneously chugged our wine. I stared through my empty glass, paralyzed but for my shaking hands.

  It must be something simple. She has to be okay.

  He reached across the table and patted the top of my hand. "I assume you must go, but you need to eat something. No more wine. Let's grill the steaks and get something into your stomach."

  "What? No, I can't eat."

  "I know, but you will. It won't take long. Then you'll do what you must. Come on."

  ***

  As usual, Frank had been right. My body had demanded the energy, as though instructing me to fuel-up in preparation for tough times ahead. After that, unable to stand it anymore, I left for the Gregario house in the hopes of helping, although I'd no idea how.

  Once I arrived there... well, who could know?

  I pulled up toward their house, and to a familiar sight—a cruiser with the red-and-blues flashing on the roof, this time belonging to the McHenry County Sheriff's Department, who oversaw tiny Lake-in-the-Hills.

  My heart weighed eight thousand pounds.

  Mrs. G. answered the door in a frantic state, barely said hello, and led me into the kitchen. She glanced back and said, "We're speaking with Deputy Ricks from the sheriff's department. He has some questions for you."

  "For me?"

  The deputy and Mr. G. halted their discussion when we entered the room, and the deputy stopped writing on his pad. My colon puckered under Mr. G.'s glare as Mrs. G. introduced me to Deputy Ricks. She confirmed that I'd been with Diana last night—the last one to see her.

  He shook my hand and held it for a few seconds, then furled his brow. "Hooper, Hooper, Tony Hooper." He paused, his eyes lit-up with recognition. "That's right, the case with the young boy. What was his name? Alex?"

  "My little brother."

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Hooper." He seemed sincere, formal, but something else lurked underneath.

  I nodded.

  "Isn't that odd? Someone took your brother... what, a week ago? He ends up.... Well, and now your girlfriend is missing. You seem to be the common link in all of this, Mr. Hooper."

  "Common link? What do you mean?"

  "I mean there are two disappearances, one we know about, one we don't, and both of the individuals involved were close to you. In fact, weren't you the last one to see each of them?"

  I hesitated and swallowed the lump in my throat. "Yeah."

  "Tell me, did you drop Diana off in the driveway last night or walk her to the door? Or was there more to it than that?"

  Accusatorial looks attacked me from three directions. Four, if one counted my colon again. Does he think I had something to do with Diana's disappearance? Does he think I murdered my own little brother? Is he insane!

  Should I tell them the truth about last night? Mr. and Mrs. Gregario might have wanted my head, but it could be important—timelines and what not. Deputy Ricks continued to stare at me as I wiped the sweat from my forehead. I couldn't get my nerves under control, though not for the reasons he thought.

  Damn it!

  I took a deep breath. "There was a little more to it."

  Mr. G. took a quick step forward. "What the hell did you do?"

  "Diana asked me to come in, and we were... together for a while."

  "Together? What the hell does that mean?"

  "Steven," Mrs. G. said, "what do you think it means? Do you think they're somehow different from every other teenager? Different from how we were? Come now."

  "What are you saying? In my house? In my goddamn house!"

  "Would you prefer they do it in a field, or in the back of the car?"

  "Goddamn it!" He spun around and glared out the kitchen window. "And you knew about this, Heather?"

  "Steven, really."

  "I see." The deputy returned to the conversation, rescuing me from Mr. G., at least for the moment. "And what times were those, from when you arrived here until you left?"

  "We got back around eleven o'clock. I left around twelve-thirty or so."

  "And where was Diana when you left?"

  "Asleep."

  Mr. G. grunted and threw his hands up.

  The deputy nodded, his suspicion more obvious than ever, and said, "In her bed."

  Not exactly a question, but I lowered my head and said, "Yes."

  Mr. G. yelled, "That's it, huh? You had your fun and took off?"

  "It wasn't like that! I wanted to stay, but I didn't think you'd approve."

  "You think? I want you out of my house right now, goddamn it!"

  "Mr. G., it's not what you think. We love each other." When he didn't respond, I pleaded with Mrs. G. "Don't you understand? I know we're still young and that we have time, but I want to marry Diana and spend the rest of my life with her."

  Her sad smile, both thoughtful and accepting, made it clear she already knew. Perhaps they'd talked about it—a mother and daughter thing. Good old Dad, on the other hand, appeared ready to disembowel me and eat my liver.

  He yelled again. "She's seventeen, for crying out loud!"

  "You were our age when you married, weren't you?"

  "Bah!" He dismissed me with a wave of the hand. "Times were different then. Leave, Tony. You need to go."

  Times were different then? What in hell does that mean? It was eighteen years ago, for God's sake, not a hundred!

  Ricks watched me with continued unease but said nothing.

  I had one last question. "Deputy Ricks, is it possible that someone is trying to hurt me, by hurting those I love most? How is this happening? It makes no sense."

  "Let's not jump to any conclusions or assume the worst here. She may have lost track of time with some friends—probably walk in any minute." He paused as if to examine my reaction. "Teenagers have been known to do crazier things."

  He said it with a straight face. Cops always tried to put the family at ease, but he didn't know Diana. Be
sides, there could be no doubt who topped his suspect list.

  Couldn't blame him for that.

  I said nothing more, but as they fidgeted about, I could easily imagine Mr. G. spontaneously combusting, or Mrs. G. collapsing with a broken heart. My own panic and fear exploded, as though I dangled above a deep, deep hole, hanging onto the edge with my last fingernail.

  Mr. G. nudged me toward the front of the house, and didn't look at me so much as through me. He followed me to the door and slammed it behind me.

  I stood on the stoop for a minute, trying to determine my next move, waiting for some divine inspiration as I stared at my car parked in the street. Nothing.

  Still nothing.

  I stared at my feet, trying to think while walking down the street, then stopped, looked around, and turned back to my car fifteen feet behind me.

  ***

  I'd been sitting in my car, in my driveway with the engine running, for many minutes. I had no idea how long—didn't even remember driving home.

  I needed to go somewhere. Diana was out there.

  I must find her before... before....

  I dropped my head into my right hand, and heat radiated from my face. I couldn't stop my hand from shaking or my teeth from grinding.

  I'm gonna kill the sonuvabitch that did this! I'll rip his damn heart out!

  Chapter 37 – May 27, 1978 (The Night Before): Mitchell Norton

  I couldn't believe my boldness, this decisiveness. The rush of power fired every nerve in my body.

  I'd figured out which room was Diana's by the light while I was outside. They made it nice and easy by leaving the front door unlocked.

  Thanks, Tony, you're a real pal.

  Diana slept quietly, and adrenaline buzzed through my body. Shit, I sported a hard-on to make a porn star gasp.

  I crept to the edge of her bed and gently clasped my right hand over her mouth. She responded with a smile and pleasant groan at first—must have thought it was her precious boyfriend. Her eyes drifted open and it took her a second to focus on me.

  Her body shot rigid, her eyes wide. She tried to jump and yell but I forced her back down. With my left hand, I held the knife up where she could see it.

  I placed it at her neck and whispered, "I don't want to cut your throat, but I sure-as-hell will if I have to. Don't make me do it. Capiche?"

  No response, except to ease her grip and remove her nails from the back of my hand. She'd scratched the hell out me. No biggie.

  "I don't want to kill you, but I'll do it if you scream. Got it?"

  She nodded.

  "You can't get away from me. I'm too quick and too strong, so don't even think about running. And keep your fucking mouth shut or you're dead."

  I pulled the covers back and.... Holy Curly, Moe and Joe! I wiggled the knife over her and pressed the flat edge to her left tit, the blade close to her nipple. She stopped breathing for a moment.

  "Get up and get dressed. Be quick about it, and quiet. If you try anything, it will take me about two seconds to stick you. Move!"

  A strange smell made me anxious as she rose naked from bed. I stayed close to keep her from trying anything stupid. She put on panties, jeans, a tee shirt and sneakers.

  Damn, sex with her would have been amazing. No time now, but maybe we'd have some fun later.

  I closed her bedroom door behind us, held to the back of her jeans, and pressed the knife into her back as we walked outside—to reiterate my threat.

  Once she hopped into the back of my van, I tied her hands to a rope loop welded into the wall. Easy. Nobody cruised the street at this late hour, and still no sign of her parents.

  ***

  The clock in my workshop ticked past one o'clock. It hadn't occurred to me to put a little bed in here, a simple mattress in case I had to spend the night. Should I have left Diana here alone? Not yet. Too risky. I didn't want to hurt her, but she didn't know that. Best keep it that way for now—gave me all the power, and kept her under control.

  She sat on a blanket in the corner, with hands tied behind her back and ankles tied together.

  I needed another blanket to use as a bedroll.

  "I have to go out to the van for a minute, but the same rules apply. You should know the nearest house is quite a ways off. I doubt they could hear you scream, so I won't bother gagging you, but if you try it, I'll cut you."

  Terror filled her eyes, but also a hint of doubt, maybe anger.

  "You see all these tools hanging around? I use them to do my work. It's the Reaper's work, but you might say I'm his apprentice. You can inflict amazing damage to a human body without killing the person. Eventually, the pain becomes too severe to tolerate. Then it's lights out, dirt-nap city. That can take a long time though, and you can inflict a shitload of pain before death. I happen to be a master."

  Why tell her the truth? I'd develop my skill soon enough.

  Her eyes widened as she gazed at the various implements of destruction. She looked convinced, but one more bit of information should cement the deal.

  "I didn't quite get it right with Alex Hooper, but I've learned a lot since then."

  Her eyes bulged—damn near popped right out of her head. Kinda funny.

  "If you're a good girl, we can dispense with that stuff. Obey my orders, and you won't have to experience those awful things—pain like you can't imagine. Understand?"

  She closed her eyes and dropped her head.

  "I said do you understand?"

  She nodded.

  "I'll be back in about ten minutes. Gotta work on the van, but I'll be right outside."

  She weren't goin' nowhere. Hell, she was scared to death.

  I grabbed the bucket and walked down to the lake to get some water for cleaning up. I took a leak in some bushes along the way, and it occurred to me that I didn't have no toilet paper in the shop.

  Shit!

  I hadn't considered how Diana would go to the bathroom, or how I would take a dump. The old me still popped up every once in awhile, complete with shit for brains. It frustrated me more than ever, now that I was different. Now that I was smarter.

  The three-quarter moon provided enough light for the grueling walk back to the shop. The fuckin' bucket of water weighed about a million pounds! Crickets chirped, lightning bugs flashed everywhere, and something huge buzzed by my head. Fuckin' bugs!

  I snatched the blanket from the back of my van before entering the shop. Diana huddled in the corner with her head down on her knees, crying.

  A bolt of energy shot through me at first—thought I might pop another woody—but then my stomach churned a bit. I chewed on a fingernail for a few seconds; didn't think the Reaper would like it if I felt sorry for her.

  I glanced around the shop—weren't no way she'd be able to go to the bathroom in here. I'd brought a few rags in with my supplies, one of which I'd need to gag her.

  "Do you need to go to the bathroom?"

  She raised her head, and blinked several times before looking around the shop, then dropped into her slouch again without responding.

  "You'll have to do it outside. There's a good spot nearby. You can use these rags—they're clean—since there ain't no toilet paper. I'll pick up some TP tomorrow."

  A couple tears fell, and she shrugged at her bound hands.

  "I'll untie you so you can go, but I gotta go out with you to make sure you don't try to run off. I'll stay a few feet away to give you a little privacy. Don't try nothin' stupid, and we'll get along fine."

  Again, she didn't respond. Bitch was starting to piss me off.

  "So, do you want to go, or do you want to sit there in your own stinkin' mess? Answer me!"

  She cringed. "I want to go."

  "All right, I have four rags. They gotta last you 'til tomorrow, so use 'em accordingly. I'll untie you, but be damn careful. Don't think for a second you can outrun me. Don't make me hurt you. Understand?"

  No response, but she shook like a streaker on a winter day.

  She pi
ssed behind a tree where she had a little privacy, but where I could see if she made a run for it. I was tempted to watch. Why shouldn't I? Would that have been wrong? Fuck it! Besides, too dark to see anything.

  I stayed close behind as she stumbled back to the shop, and put my hand on her shoulder when we entered; didn't want her grabbing one of my tools and attacking me.

  She washed herself from the bucket—just a little, without removing any clothes. I tied her up again, with her hands in front this time, and she lay down and wrapped herself in the blanket. She turned and faced the wall. I understood. She was nervous and frightened, trying to avoid me.

  No worries. She'd pay attention to me soon enough.

  Chapter 38 – May 28, 1978: Mitchell Norton

  "Man is not the creature of circumstances; circumstances are the creature of man." – Benjamin Disraeli

  ~~~~~

  Diana had finally slept last night, at least a little, curled up in her blanket in the corner. She cried a few times.

  I'd been too nervous to sleep much, and had plans to consider and supplies to pick up, like toilet paper and toothpaste and deodorant... and clothes.

  I'd prodded Diana's sizes out of her before leaving the shop, then gagged her and tied her to the shed. The tight bindings had probably hurt her, but.... Whatever.

  I didn't plan to be gone long—still too nervous about leaving her alone.

  Mom, Dad and Tommy were out at church when I stopped at home. I took a fast shower, changed clothes, and grabbed some money from my secret stash. I left a note to keep my parents from prying.

  ~~~

  Mom and Dad,

  I'm spending a couple days with a friend, so don't worry. I'll see you soon.

  Be good, Tommy-boy.

  Mitchell

  ~~~

  I'd done it before, whenever I hung with Frankie Walters for a weekend to drink, smoke dope, and listen to music or his comedy albums: Bill Cosby, George Carlin and Cheech & Chong—some funny shit!

  The folks would be okay for a day or two, and I'd figure things out from there.

  I packed a bag with enough stuff to last me two or three days, loaded it and an empty ice chest into the van, and zipped out the driveway before the folks got home and started asking questions. They'd have to arrange for somebody else to watch Tommy.