With Cruel Intent

by Dennis Larsen

  There was an answer at the other end, “9-1-1, what is the nature of your emergency?”

  Now whispering as not to alert an intruder if he was, in fact, still inside the home, “Someone broke into my house and I’m not sure if he’s still here, son of a bitch stacked my chairs on my table,” Katie slowly started back down the hallway to the kitchen.

  “Excuse me, he did what?” the operator seated inside the Lowndes County Sheriff’s Office inquired.

  “He piled my kitchen chairs on the table like a pyramid thingy. I need some help, please send somebody!”

  “I’ve got officers responding; please confirm your address for me, okay. Stay on the line, don’t do anything but stay on the phone with me. Is he still in the house?” she asked firmly.

  “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t dare look around. What do I do if he’s here?” tearfully whispered the terrified woman back into the receiver.

  “Listen to me, is this Katherine Criddle?” no reply. “Katherine, you with me, don’t leave the phone, are you with me?” the operator said forcefully, trying to keep the victim’s attention.

  “Yeah, I’m here, I’m so scared, please help me, please send somebody!” she sobbed into the phone; tears running incessantly down her cherry cheeks.

  “Okay Katherine, I want you to get out of the house, can you do that? I want you to get to the front door and get out of there and wait for the officers in the street. You hear me? Get out of there now!”

  “Okay, okay I can see the front door from here,” she said, moving toward the living room and her escape.

  “No, No, No! Please no! Why me? I... I... I …...” Screaming ,then silence. The 911 operator listened. Nothing.

  “Katherine! Mrs. Criddle what’s happened? Can you hear me?” She pressed her ear firmly to the headset, trying to draw any possible response from the petrified woman. Then she heard it, very faint, very light, but the unmistakable sound of someone breathing, almost snoring, coming from within the living room of 412 Big Buck Circle.

  The operator, knowing that only one Sheriff’s Unit was available to respond, called upon the help of the Valdosta PD and emergency fire and ambulance crews to assist as well. Multiple squad cars and emergency vehicles from the county and city were soon rushing to aid the victim, her circumstances unknown.

  At the same time the 911 operator was scrambling help to Katherine’s location, Blanche was standing in the shade of one of the larger trees populating the grounds of the old library, having an early morning banter with Mr. Marcus. Suddenly, they saw the first squad car speed through the intersection, lights and sirens blaring, sending pedestrians running for the safety of the sidewalks.

  “Whoa, what’s that about?” Marcus hollered above the sounds of the sirens. Blanche shrugged her shoulders, thinking of the next barb she might send his way, when a second unit roared past the two, again with lights and sirens going.

  “Quite a bit of excitement for little old Valdosta this morning, eh Marcus? You forget to turn off your stove after you brewed your coffee or something?” she jokingly put forth.

  “Now that you mention it, the Mrs. said something about mowing the lawn this morning, hope she didn’t cut her foot off or anything. Don’t think the insurance will cover that,” he replied sarcastically.

  A couple of miles away the students on the college campus were also alarmed at the number of sirens they were hearing.

  “Must be quite the emergency, sounds like the entire force is on the move this morning,” Seymour said to the cute freshman, standing with him just outside the athletic department.

  He’d just finished his morning workout and shower when he’d heard the commotion and hustled outside to see what was afoot.

  She adoringly looked up at the older, more experienced college student, batted her eyes a few times and replied.“ Maybe there’s some crazy person on campus running around with a gun or something. Might be safer if we go to my dorm room and wait this little emergency out.”

  The innuendo and offer were totally lost on Seymour who took a few steps closer in the direction of the noise and inferred, “No, don’t think this is a campus issue, sounds are moving away from downtown rather than coming toward us.”

  The young lady, disappointment showing on her face, pulled her book and binder to her chest, rocked herself from the waist up and said in childish tone, “Won’t you at weast walk me to my next cwass, I’m a wittle sceawwed?”

  Seymour turned to address the persistent young lady when the sound of another siren caught his ear, this one moving quickly in their direction. She advanced the couple of steps to join Seymour at his side, ran a hand between his side and arm and pulled his bicep to her breast and laid her head against his shoulder, appreciating the bulge that was there. More students filled the empty spaces around the two as the sounds approached. Questions filled the air in shouted tones to get above the sound of the multiple sirens.

  The freshman, lost in the thrill of holding the older student so close, forgot about the possible threat at hand, and nuzzled her face against Seymour who seemed unaware of her affections. Within a moment or two an ambulance could be seen weaving its way between stalled traffic, working its way down the main boulevard, followed closely behind by a fire engine, lights reflecting off the buildings and sirens screaming. The group of students, including Seymour with the cute student latched on, surged to the street in an effort to get a better view and postulate what might be happening. To the relief of the young lady the emergency vehicles advanced beyond the college and raced toward their ultimate destination.

  “Good crap, are they ever in a hurry. What could they be up to this early in the morning?” Seymour said, more to himself than to anyone in particular.

  “Well, I surely don’t know, but I’d sure like to spend some more time with you this morning,” she said, pulling his arm close and rubbing it suggestively against her clad bosom. Once she’d gotten his attention and she could see that he was looking directly into her eyes, she continued, “If you know what I mean?” winking.

  “Oh, yeah, I mean no, really I’d love to hang out with you for awhile this morning but I’ve got a project I’ve got to get together and need to hit the library before my noon class,” he tripped over his tongue but he was sure she’d gotten the message.

  “You sure? I think I can make it worth your while,” she said; in her best Southern drawl in a final attempt to sway her crush.

  “I really appreciate the offer; maybe another day.” Pulling him away from her grasp and waving as he jogged toward the library, Blanche foremost on his mind.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  A light breeze swayed the limbs of the old oak tree just outside the second story window of Blanche’s room. Spanish moss hung in great sheets from the angled branches, some extending almost to the ground, casting spider web like shadows on the bedspread upon which Blanche lay. The fleeing sunlight, all but gone for the day, Blanche lay meditating, as she always did upon completing a novel, absorbing the full impact and importance of the words that had so touched her soul over these past two weeks. She loved a book that could pull her into the pages and make her a part, as had Mandingo.

  The beating of her heart could be felt, her hand resting there, her eyes closed, lost in the story, mingling it with her own life and journey. She thought of her childhood, her strict upbringing from parents who obviously loved her and wanted only the best for her, and the many miles that now separated them. The feelings of joy and fulfillment, although not always present, had been more readily apparent since her move, however, she longed for someone to hold her hand, a strong hero who would sweep into her life and transport her to a place of love and ecstasy that she only could imagine.

  With her eyes closed, in that state between sleep and cognition, she could almost see him. His broad shoulders, muscled arms testing the limits of the uniform he wore, sworn to protect God and country. A light smile parted her lips as the pleasant thought floated through her mind, causing a bur
ning in her bosom, providing hope to a once hopeless passage. In the shadow cast rental room, her mind still fully engaged with the man of her dreams, she said a little prayer, not aloud but with the faith of a child she’d possessed years ago, “Father, if you are there and you do know who I am, would it be too much to ask for someone to come my way that would love me, take care of me and treat me like someone special.” As her thought passed from this dimension to the next, she saw him for only a split second. The man of her dreams, brown hair under his tilted cap, profile only, but a distinctive dimple in his left cheek.

  “What could she possibly be doing, she’s been just laying there for more than a half hour,” he thought, posed on the balcony of a home less than a block away. He’d been lucky to find a place with no one home for the evening, which gave him the vantage point he needed to see directly into her room. “Tonight is for me,” he thought. “No agenda, no hazardous duty pay, just for me.” The viewfinder filled with the shadowed image of the woman on the bed. Click.

  He was not quite sure what he’d expected from this ‘Peeping Tom’ routine. The pictures taken from the safety of the van continued to excite him and give him a sense of power, however, skulking in the dim fading light of day did not provide the same pleasure that confronting her face to face had. He again found her in the viewfinder and extended the telephoto lens, he could see her hand on her chest, “Perhaps she is thinking of me the way I have her since our encounter,” he thought.

  As he sat back in the wooden chair provided by the unknowing homeowners and looked across the distance from his perch to her room, he wondered what it would be like to possess such a rare creature. He thought of the pictures of her walking with the young guy from the library and imagined himself taking that role. It was not entirely unlikely; he was not a bad looking guy. In his line of work he had to keep himself in tip top shape and there’d been nights when he’d walked away from the bar with the best looking woman in the place, even if she was a little more tipsy than he preferred.

  Before long he got tired of waiting for something to happen, a couple more pictures were taken for good measure and he left the relative security of the balcony and walked the few blocks to his van and headed home. The drive had been one of unrestrained fantasy. Why was this woman, that he did not know, having this affect on him? The short and not overly friendly exchange they had in the library was not one made of dreams.

  He found her attractive and intriguing; the soft spot she had for ‘authentic’ patriots kind of pulled at his heartstrings and helped him remember the man he used to be. He harkened back to days in the field with his dad before he got sick and the times they had shared hunting the backwoods near their home and the long, lazy days on the banks of the river catching catfish. His mother had passed when he was young; cancer had taken her from his life, but not his memory.

  The thought of her standing at the kitchen sink, welcoming him home from school, the smell of fresh baked sugar cookies still lingering in the air, were as vibrant now as the day he reflected on. She was quick to bring him inline but equally quick to offer a loving hug. His dad had been much the same and he missed the time together and had been bitter when his father had also been taken before his time. Solace had come at a critical time for him, the passing of his father and the void that created had been partially filled by Virginia May, a farmer’s daughter he’d known from his youth.

  Red hair, pale, freckle covered skin, an innocence that he had found refreshing. She had brought passion, and what he thought would be lasting love, to his life when he thought all was lost. They lived in the home in which he was raised, lived off the land and farmed what they could to make ends meet. It was not an abundant life but a satisfying one as far as he was concerned. He was unaware of her discontent until it was too late.

  The hours he spent caring for the land, the animals and making a living for them were hours away from her and it was more than she could bear. She needed constant reassurance and the meager existence they were scraping out was less than she’d dreamed of having. Raised in difficult times, her parents had always provided food on the table and adequate clothing but there was nothing exquisite about her surroundings or belongings, and she longed for that. Surely there was more in store for her, and in her own mind, she had settled and wound up in the same circumstances as her parents.

  Virginia May knew he loved her, would give his life for her, however, she was unable to cope with the many hours spent alone, ultimately what the redhead did with those hours led to their destruction. The day of her departing haunted him still, the fancy SUV sitting in the driveway, her bags by the door, a simple lunch on the table as she always did when he came home for a quick break from the fields. A dark, handsome man had stood near the Escalade, pacing back and forth, checking the time on his Rolex repeatedly. Not much of an explanation other than she’d found new love and was moving on but, “they could still be friends”, she’d said, with a parting, pathetic kiss on his cheek. She might as well have ripped his heart from his chest and crushed it under her heels.

  The love of his life gone, his parents taken suddenly from him, his will to live destroyed, he’d been forced to sell the farm to survive. He retained the house and a few acres surrounding the structures but everything else was gone. The funds from the sale had provided sustenance but not for long. He’d had hours and days filled with rage and resentment and no outlet until, one late night, he’d watched To Catch a Thief and his destiny was set in motion.

  He’d get back at that rich bastard that took his Virginia May and every other money grubbing scumbag that he could find. He’d set things right and all would be well. His energy and anger toward God and man were funneled into perfecting his craft and it had paid off. His first target had been Virginia May’s home. What a thrill that had been, rifling through their belongings, knowing what he did of her wants and desires had been overwhelming, as he stood in their bedroom imagining what took place there.

  The crime had actually been easier than he had imagined, valuables were plentiful, access barely unrestricted and unloading the items a breeze. A newfound career with untold benefits, the thrill of the hunt ever present had paid off for him over the past ten years. He was free from a criminal record, except in his heart, and the scattered bank accounts only needed one final deposit to set him free.

  There was no question that the librarian, Blanche 'Whatever', had caught his attention due to her similarity to Virginia May, but there was more to it than that, and he was sure he’d seen it in her eyes. She wanted him. His sloppy performance at the library was suspect, and the exchange disconcerting, but there was no mistaking the glint in her eye as he had left. In his mind it was unmistakable. There had been an attraction there, but what to do from here. She knew him as a handicapped vet with poor vision and a cane. He suspected his performance and disguise would not linger in the woman’s memory, but when he appeared before her as himself she would be unable to resist the connection. The thought of how that may play out occupied his mind until he returned home.

  Entering the hidden desk area he could see a message was waiting on the restricted cell phone. He dialed, “Where are you? You’re suppose to have this phone with you at all times, is that understood? Don’t phone me back. I’ll be busy but we want two quick outings back to back on the heels of what you did last night. By the way, good job, the press is going nuts and the police won’t release any information. A wonderful little panic is starting to develop, keep it going. Won’t be any package of info for these next two, sorry, no time. Do something on your own, we’ll leave it up to you, but keep it within the same zone we’re working with. If you have any questions you can try me tomorrow.”

  “Finally,” he thought, “I’m tired of having to pick on these common folk, ‘bout time somebody with some cash paid the price.”

  * * *

  The dreamy librarian eventually found the energy to pull herself from her fantasies and returned to real life. She really needed someone tonight, if n
ot to hold at least to talk to. The thought of Mrs. Muir or Caroline came to mind, but she just didn’t have the will to spend another hour talking about fruit salad or the latest soaps. She considered going for a walk but the assault at the bus stop prevented her from mustering the courage to venture out, at least not alone.

  Jasper and his powerful chest flashed through her mind, remembering that tomorrow night she needed to attend the bodybuilding competition. The idea both disgusted and titillated her at the same time.

  “Hope I don’t embarrass myself,” she thought as she pictured all the buff men in tiny little Speedo’s displayed before her. “No, better not contact Jasper, that would be way too forward. Maybe Seymour. Could pretend I was curious about the project we’d worked on together. That’s a plausible reason for a call, right?” she surmised, running ideas through her head as she paced her room. “But what would his mother think, a mature woman like myself phoning her younger son? Screw it, he’s cute and I know he’s got the hots for me, a quick phone call won’t hurt, I’ll keep it very professional.”

  Blanche could feel her pulse quicken, anxiety rising, breath coming in shorter, faster intakes and exhales, her hand shook slightly as she picked up the phone and dialed.

  A woman answered, “Hello, Wood residence.”

  “Must be his mother,” she thought. "Why couldn’t Seymour have answered?"

  “Yes, hello, I was wondering if I might speak to Seymour?” her voice quivered slightly, as she made the request.

  “So would I,” his mother said back into the receiver. “Never get much of a chance to see him these days, I think he sleeps here cause his bed is tussled in the mornin’ and food is missing from the fridge but he’s nothing more than a ghost around here, I'm afraid.”

  “Sorry to hear it,” Blanche sincerely responded.