Forgive Me, Alex

by Lane Diamond

  I needed to keep her quiet long enough to get back to the shop. If she ran or screamed again, I'd have a problem. "I'm sorry about Bobby. Hated doing that, but right now we have to think about you, don't we?"

  She nodded, her huge brown eyes bulging as if someone had pumped too much air into them.

  "Okay, we're gonna take a little walk to a place I have nearby. You'll be carrying a bucket of water." That ought'a slow her down. I slapped the bat in my hands to sharpen my point. "I'll be right behind you carrying this. Walk slow and keep quiet, and everything will be fine."

  "What are you going to do to me?"

  "That's up to you. You want to live, don't you?"

  She slobbered all over herself. "Yes."

  "Then be a good girl and do what I say, and everything will be fine. I don't want to hurt you."

  She wanted to—no, she needed to—believe it.

  I was convincing. Hell, I almost believed it myself.

  "What about Bobby?" She wiped first at her eyes and then at her nose.

  "He's not going anywhere. Take that bucket down to the lake and fill it with water. Hurry up!"

  My nerves fired on all pistons. If they were here, Bobby and Jacque, then who else might show up? Time to get back to the shop.

  She filled the bucket, and we climbed out of the pit and onto the less obvious path leading to the shop. I stayed close behind her, hushing her each time she asked a question, looking around to ensure that we were alone. We needed to hurry; I still had a body to deal with.

  Don't forget his car, the Reaper said.

  Shit! I should have thought of that.

  I prepared for my next move as we approached the shop. Jacque-Baby struggled with the bucket, so I instructed her to put it down and rest for a minute. She leaned over, and I stepped closer and raised the bat.

  I hit her in about the same spot I'd hit Danny-Boy. She dropped to the ground and groaned, barely conscious. Excellent.

  I laid the bat down, left the bucket of water for the moment, and threw her over my shoulder to carry her into the shop. She was damn sure lighter than Danny-Boy had been.

  Diana raised her head, and her jaw almost dropped, restrained by the gag. Her eyes shot wide.

  "Honey, I'm home." I laughed and dropped Jacque-Baby onto the workbench. "I brought company."

  ***

  Darkness arrived with me jacked-up again on adrenaline and electric nerves. It had been a busy day already and, I had to admit, everything had gone surprisingly well.

  After tying up Jacque-Baby and finding out from her where Bobby-the-Stud had parked his car, I gagged her and returned to where the poor boy remained poured in on himself. I took the car keys from his right front pocket, carried him up the hill and over to the rim of the pit—the part that looked straight down on the water like a small cliff—and laid him out there.

  Then I jogged to where he'd parked his car near Cary Road.

  I drove all the way around to my special path, where I always drove my van in toward the shop. That took fifteen nerve-wracking minutes.

  Now it was a simple matter of doing some four-wheeling in Bobby-the-Stud's old Jeep, over the rough terrain and up to where I'd stretched him out. I buckled him into the front seat, put the gearshift into neutral, and pushed the Jeep toward the rim with every ounce of strength I could muster. When it started over the edge, it hung up for several seconds, like it would just stay there.

  Shit!

  That would have been something, but it found some gravity and tipped into the pit. I ran to the edge in time to see it disappear into the depths, where Bobby-the-Stud and his Jeep would likely remain hidden for a long time.

  I prepared for the night's activities back at the shop, stripping Jacque-Baby down to her birthday suit by cutting away her clothes. She weren't happy about it. Too fuckin' bad! Those were the rules. Besides, it weren't like she'd need them again.

  I placed a chair near the workbench for Diana. The look in her eyes, and her body language, made it clear she knew what was coming. As an afterthought, I decided to make Diana strip too. I padded her wrists and ankles, to keep her comfortable, before tying her to the chair.

  I wasn't sure why I'd wanted her naked, but looking at her, I had to admit it was a brilliant idea. Hell, you could never have too many naked women around, I figured. That was one of the benefits of this new job of mine.

  Two naked girls, one lying on the workbench with her legs tied apart, and one seated in a chair alongside it... whew! I had no idea when I started following the Reaper's orders that I'd enjoy such benefits. Sex was the perfect benefit, although now that I thought of it, I hadn't done the deed yet.

  Fuck a rubber duck! How can I be surrounded by naked girls and not sex 'em up?

  I was waiting for the right moment with Diana, because she and I would be together forever.

  Jacque-Baby, on the other hand, was available. Sure, I'd have to cut her up and do the stuff the Reaper had taught me, but couldn't I have a little fun first?

  I leaned right over her, close. She stunk of sweat and sex, maybe from her time with Bobby-the-Stud, which kicked me into high gear. I needed some fun myself.

  She wriggled and cried behind her gag.

  "What's the matter, Jacque? You told Bobby he was naughty for doing this, but that you liked it. Don't you like it now? Aren't I naughty enough for you?"

  I stripped down in a rush while Diana cried and stared at the floor.

  I reached under her chin and raised her head. Since she knew to be quiet, I hadn't gagged her. "I want you to watch me and Jacque-Baby. It'll be fun."

  I climbed onto the workbench and over Jacque.

  It didn't take long. Whatever. I sure felt better.

  She lay perfectly still when I climbed off her. Hard to tell, but I thought she might'a liked it. How could she not? Good thing, too, because she would hate the next part.

  The demons were getting restless, swirling around again, looking at me like they would gouge my fuckin' eyes out if I didn't get a move on.

  "All right, Diana, I hope you enjoyed watching that as much as I enjoyed doing it. Now it's time for tonight's real lesson to begin."

  Her eyes grew wide and filled with tears again, and she looked at Jacque-Baby in terror.

  I grabbed my knife and a couple other tools, which I held up for Jacque-Baby to inspect and consider. "And what do you think, little girl? Now that we've made sweet love, are you ready for the next bit of fun?"

  If her long, muffled scream were any indication, she was ready.

  ***

  That was the best one yet! My first girl! I definitely preferred the girls. They had so much more to offer. Yeah, I'd stick with girls from now on. Whereas Danny-Boy had only lasted for twenty minutes—the fuckin' wimp—Jacque-Baby had lasted thirty. She was tough, I had to admit, but I was getting better at this too.

  "What do you think, Diana? Does it get any better than that?"

  She looked strange.

  "Diana?"

  Her eyes blinked in a slow, steady beat, like there weren't nothin' behind them.

  "Diana, do you hear me?"

  I shook her and tried to bring her around, but she'd wigged-out.

  Shit! Now what the fuck has happened?

  Chapter 45 – June 15, 1995: Tony Hooper

  "Necessity can make a doubtful action innocent, but it cannot make it commendable." – Joseph Joubert

  ~~~~~

  I slide the door open, so careful to remain silent that my breath catches inside my throat, fearful of escape lest he discover me. The room is empty and dim with the smallest traces of late-afternoon sun. I creep along the wall, slip past the stairs, and ease open the door on my left.

  This room is also empty, as expected.

  I quietly take care of my business, exit, and move once again into the main room. I retrace my earlier path and move toward the stairs that are now on my right. My target hangs only two steps away. I will catch him this time. After all these years, I will finally
have him.

  "Ringing the chimes is unnecessary," the voice behind me says.

  Damn it!

  Master Komura stands in the back corner. He faked me out. He usually sits on the exercise pad. His grin, and that look of self-satisfaction, dig a little deeper.

  "You know," I say, "I barely even breathed. So please tell me, how did you know I was here? Am I making a sound even I am unaware of?"

  He smiles and points to the far right corner of the room, up toward the ceiling.

  You must be kidding. "How long have you had cameras?"

  "Naomi and Marissa have been nervous since the murders began again, so I had them installed yesterday."

  An appropriate precaution, particularly since he refuses to lock the door. It must remain open, to welcome anyone who seeks knowledge.

  He tells me of the monitors in his apartment, along with a chime that indicates movement. They are both cameras and motion detectors.

  "And so you cheated," I say.

  "I improvised, as any skilled samurai would."

  I can't help but laugh at the simple lesson.

  "You move with great stealth, Shadow."

  Shadow is the nickname he gave me several years ago, when my skills advanced and I learned to walk without sound. Strange. Whenever he calls me that, memories of Alex, my own good Shadow, wash over me.

  We agree that I will not upset Naomi, or his daughter Marissa, my goddaughter, by refusing to stay for dinner.

  He claps his hands. "Good. So tell me, Shadow, besides a nice visit, what is it that brings you to me today? You wish to train, but I think perhaps there is something more."

  "You know me too well."

  He bows his head.

  "He's back, Master—Mitchell Norton, the devil—and he's killing again."

  "Why have the police not made an arrest?"

  "They have insufficient evidence, but he's wasting no time. Two dead already, and he's been out of prison only a few days. His brutality knows no limits. How many more must die before he pays, before there is justice?"

  "Is it justice you desire or is it vengeance?"

  That's a fair enough question, but when I don't respond, he lets it pass.

  "Are you certain it is him, Shadow? Do you have no doubts?"

  "None."

  "I see."

  "This is my fault."

  "On that, I see no such thing. I know what you think, that you had an opportunity to kill him seventeen years ago and if you had, he would not be killing now. You were still a boy then. You mustn't hold yourself responsible."

  "I was eighteen and I was capable enough."

  "You were eighteen and you had a good heart and a good soul. You chose to allow the law to take its course. That was enough."

  I laugh. "You sound like Frank."

  "A most generous compliment."

  I sigh in frustration. "But he's at it again. Torture! Murder!"

  "Then the law is to blame. We are civilized people, are we not? We rely on the law to provide justice. Yet it often fails for, like the men who created it, it is imperfect. But then you've known this for a long time."

  He knows what I do. Indeed, he's the one man who knows everything about me. Even Frank is unaware of a few secrets I've kept. Master Komura knows all, for I can train with him only if I have no secrets. This isn't because he'd refuse, but because we must trust one another with our lives.

  "Hai, and now I must do what I failed to do seventeen years ago," I say. "I must rid the world of another monster. I will be responsible for no more deaths."

  "No more but one."

  "No more innocent deaths. The guilty... well, justice comes in many forms, does it not?"

  "Indeed, but the law will see it differently."

  "Then I must ensure that the law remains ignorant of my actions."

  He gives a thoughtful nod. "Difficult to accomplish these days. Technology is not your friend."

  "I'm prepared to accept the consequences."

  "Hai. You have been determined in your course and willing to pay whatever price is necessary. Still, we may discuss these things."

  "Am I wrong to want this?"

  "Who can say? We must protect our own. If someone were to endanger my Naomi or Marissa, or you for that matter, I would kill him without pause. I know the law is often more curative than preventative. Yet who can cure a murder victim? Is it unjust to destroy the killer before he kills? If one knows of the murderer's guilt beyond any doubt, I am prepared to accept such solutions with a clear conscience, and at whatever cost."

  "As am I."

  "Yet absolute certainty is difficult to obtain. Do you know more than the police, or do you merely think you know?"

  There is logic in his question. I'm certain that Mitchell Norton kills again. Who else can it be? Yet what Linda said about copycats, about the number of serial killers out there, planted at least a seed of doubt. I know that my nagging guilt pushes me to end it.

  What if I kill Norton and the killings continue?

  "It's not about knowing," I say. "It's about what the police can do within the boundaries of the law. As for the devil, I'm ninety-five percent certain."

  He holds up a finger. "Then you are uncertain. You are samurai and you know better. I think this Mitchell Norton has corrupted your mind." He pauses. "History teaches us to make no assumptions. Every mystery of the world, every hope and fear, every tangled web that man has ever woven—all of these things reside in history, in experience, in countless lifetimes that have come before us, and in all the promises kept or broken. We have long studied history together. It's as important as the physical aspect of what we do here."

  He pauses again, but I know he's not done.

  "You must promise me that you'll heed those lessons."

  "How can I know with certainty when even the police have no proof?"

  "You are samurai. You are Shadow. Does the night not hold your answers?"

  I should have considered that. I've been there before. He's right; Norton has corrupted my mind. My emotional involvement in this case threatens my perspective, something Frank warned me about. You'd think I would know by now to listen to those two.

  I must embrace the darkness to catch the killer in the act. "I must shadow him," I say, "and when he makes his move, I will end it."

  "This is the way of the samurai. This is just. However, if you can capture him for the authorities, that would be the preferred alternative to killing him."

  "Sure. Look where that got us last time."

  "I think it would be different this time—strike two, you might say. It's unlikely they would release him again."

  "We'll see." I doubt it. I seriously doubt it.

  "It would be preferable, naturally, that however you end it, you do so before he kills again."

  "Indeed. I don't know how much more my conscience can take."

  "I hope this too will pass, as justice dictates. Now, let us train together. Afterwards, you may visit with Naomi and Marissa and we'll have a nice dinner." He puts his arm around me. "It is good to have you home, Shadow."

  Chapter 46 – June 16, 1995: Reports, Rumors and Re-Enactments

  The gentle breeze and mild temperature made a walk in the park the perfect distraction for Lindsey Merkham, but she chose the cemetery in lieu of the park. She did so because the cemetery sat conveniently at the corner of North Main Street and Cary Road, across the street from her apartment.

  It contained several crisscrossing paths perfect for continuous power walking, her preferred method of exercise and, judging by her slender build, an effective one. She normally exercised right after work and before dinner, when she wasn't too weighed-down or too lazy for her walks.

  On this night, she was out late.

  Lindsey stood five-feet-six-inches tall, with short, bright red-orange hair, and a figure that more resembled a young boy than an adult woman. The unfortunate birthmark on her right cheek, and the ski jump at the end of her nose, further heightened her insecurities.


  Men rarely lined up at her doorstep.

  Thus, she chose to take a late walk through the cemetery, a perfectly reasonable way to kill another uneventful Friday night. She'd snuggle later with her loyal kitty, Puffer, and read a good book.

  ***

  The man seated against the elm tree was also alone that Friday night, contemplating his recent actions. They'd squashed him under a heavy sorrow, but they'd also frustrated him, for they hadn't produced the desired results.

  Maybe if he persisted awhile longer and increased his efforts, he'd eventually win his prize.

  The woman walked toward him. He heard her before she appeared, and when he looked up to watch her stroll by on the path twenty feet away, she made no notice of him at all.

  That figures, he thought. He sat in the shadows as night approached. It was a place he'd been on other occasions recently. He sought the magic, yet he knew only regret.

  The woman passed beyond his sight and out of his thoughts as he attempted to make sense of his loneliness, his inadequacies and fear. He wanted more from his life. He deserved more.

  The people in my life don't understand. I like the people in this place better. The dead aren't mean to me. The dead don't look down at me. The dead don't feel sorry for me.

  For seventeen years he'd thought of little else but how to improve his circumstances, yet how could he do it? Perhaps two murders were insufficient. How many more must he kill? As always, the answers he craved eluded him and his frustration mounted.

  Approaching sounds again distracted him, this time from a young couple that talked and held hands while they walked. They probably had visited a grave sight. Maybe he should kill them and get two for the price of one, he thought. Yeah, that might do the trick, but he didn't know how to accomplish that. When they walked on and the opportunity passed, his frustration grew into anger. Although he hated being angry, it happened often as a lifetime of insecurity raged within. It's why he usually carried his knife, tucked in its sheath in the back of his jeans, the way he'd seen detectives tuck guns away on television.