by Dick Waters
Standing by the wood stove, he pulled the wooden stamp out of his pocket, examining it. The raised metal C in a circle caused him to think of Charlotte, recalling her beauty. Years ago when they were together, she had confessed that she really liked him. However, that didn’t stop her participation in his branding.
Soon it would be her turn. He had waited a long time for it. His hand traced the scars they left, thinking of what he had done to Karen and Phyllis.
Soon he opened the footlocker pulling out several pieces of rope. The rope almost looked like it was the same rope from twenty years ago. He was now more proficient tying hangman knots, proceeding to tie four of them, then tying them to the four corners of the cot. He spread the mattress out on the metal springs, staring at it for a long time.
It was easy to remember his naked body attached to the bed, glistening in oil. That was the image he had fallen asleep with every night since all of this happened. He opened the bag, taking the baby oil out and placed it on the wood stove. He went through his mental check list – lantern, stove, cot, rope with knots, oil, letter C, oh there’s only one more thing—he wrote a note for her to wait for him inside the cabin.
*.*.*
Now he was back at the hotel, waiting for her. His room had a view of the front entrance. He didn’t have to wait long. He thought he recognized her when her car pulled up, but when she got out and took her suitcase out of the trunk he knew for sure it was her.
Of the three girls, she was the youngest and most beautiful. She looked better than he had remembered. The years had only refined her features, making him want to scoop her away right then. However, there would be time for that tomorrow. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes.
He couldn’t take the chance of going to the dining room, for fear she just might recognize him after all these years. He considered what her reaction would be, but only for a minute. Charlotte you silly, silly girl, you should have stayed with your own plan. It was much too easy to convince you to give it all up for this opportunity. Maybe if I had just asked you to be with me for the rest of your life, you would have jumped at the chance.
What am I thinking, not a chance. However, you’re going to do some jumping around tomorrow. You won’t have far to jump, not with the ropes. He remembered how the ropes cut into his own wrists and ankles for most of the weekend. Leaving the window, he went over to the bed, undressed and reclined on the bed.
He looked at the four ropes he attached to the corners of the bed and slipped his feet through the hangman’s knots at the foot of the bed first, and then his wrists. He was experienced enough to leave just enough play in one of them to get himself untied. He wondered what he would say to the maid if she found him this way, but he had that figured out as well. Soon his mind went to his ordeal at the hands of Charlotte. They were alone now and she was more than happy to see him and to be with him. He was her puppet then and soon she was going to be his.
He arranged for her to have the room next to his. He didn’t have to wait long for her to enter her room. He wished she was coming to see him again—right now, right this way. He wasn’t a boy any longer, but tomorrow would be soon enough. He closed his eyes.
*.*.*
He recalled that weekend just like he had every day of his life. It was one of those life-changing moments—it was the good and the bad.
Rose Anderson had dropped him off at the camp on a Friday afternoon. She was pregnant and couldn’t stay to supervise. He knew all too well what he needed to do to make the camp buildings ready for the season. This was his third year. Even though he was only fifteen, Rose had told him he was the best she had at setting up the camp. The camp counselors would arrive later in the day, and would be in charge of other preparations for the first week of camp.
He had gone to the counselor cabin, making sure it was ready for the counselors to use when they arrived. He took the plywood off the windows, opening the windows to air out the cabin. He made sure there were no nests in the wood stove, making sure there was wood in the box beside the stove. He remembered something had caught his eye. Looking at the door frame, he saw the three initials burned into it. Anyone seeing those letters would think of the Knotty Pine Camp, but to him they stood for; Karen, Phyllis and Charlotte.
He would see those letters every day of his life, burned into his groin.
He was down at the raft and boat storage area when the counselors arrived. He hid from their sight, but still to this day doesn’t know why he did that. He watched them take their suitcases from the car, bringing them into the cabin. The man who was driving the car was obviously one of their parents. He left as soon as they had taken their stuff out of the car. He remembered them laughing and jumping on the front porch shortly after they were settled. They went running down the dirt road carrying towels, headed in the direction of the swimming hole.
It was Memorial Day weekend. Although it was warm in the daytime, the nights would drop down into the forties. The campgrounds changed almost every year when the Mad River overflowed its normal banks, sweeping through the camp area. That winter there had been some snow but not like some previous years. The change in topography wasn’t that severe. The river was fed by melting snow in the Waterville Valley area and springs that were predominant in the mountains. Consequently, even in the middle of summer the river water temp never warmed up above sixty degrees.
He knew the girls were headed for the swimming hole, so he went around on the hill overlooking it. He remembered hearing their laughter mixed with screams, and when he looked down on the pool of water he could see the bottom all the way across the river. The girls had already taken off their clothes, and were screaming as each tried to enter the water. Soon they were all in the water, splashing each other.
He felt the cold air in his hotel room on his naked body, which was reacting to the memory, the cold and Charlotte next door. He could hear drawers opening and closing.
The girls looked beautiful and innocent. They were about three years older than he was at the time, and they had blossomed in the three years he knew them. His eyes were still closed and he recalled that picture just like it was yesterday. One was blond, another a red head and the third a brunette. The water had almost acted like a magnifying glass as the girls stood in the water up to their waists. All three went running to the small sandy beach, quickly drying off. He remembered how they must have enjoyed the warmth of the sun on their cold bodies as they soaked it up.
He had seen them naked before in their cabin, but this was a real treat seeing them outside like that. They were lying on their towels face down and their bodies were red from the cold water from their middle of their backs down. After several minutes, they all rolled over to warm up the rest of their bodies. He couldn’t believe the sight. He wondered if they could see him on the slope, but if they did see him, they didn’t show any sign of hiding themselves. The girls weren’t in any rush to go back to their cabin, so he had decided to check it out.
*.*.*
That turned out to be his biggest mistake. He went to their cabin, was looking at their clothes which were still in their suitcases. He picked up one of the bras on top of a suitcase, noticing the size of the cups. This had to be Charlotte’s, as it was quite large. He went to another case, picked up a pair of black nylon panties and held it up to the light coming in the front window. He could see right through them.
He never saw the door open and the three girls standing there, but heard the sound of the door when it hit the wall. They caught him holding the panties.
He tried to run to the back door, but the three of them were between him and both doors. He tried to dodge one of the girls but she pushed him and he remembered tumbling towards the pot belly stove. The next thing he remembered is hearing girls’ voices in the distance, and laughter. He tried moving, but he was tied to the four corners of a cot and his body felt cold. He looked down, shocked that he was naked.
He recalled falling toward the stove and must have been knocked out. The
girls took the opportunity to strip him and tie him to the bed. Hangman knots were holding his wrists and ankles, and he couldn’t move anything except his torso. Once they realized he had come to, they came over, proceeding to make fun of his situation. That was the start of the weekend he remembered since then, being at their mercy.
They girls proceeded to complete their assignments and his. That left them time to make him pay for what he had done. They forced him to recall all the times he had watched them in the river and in their cabin. They learned what his body could and couldn’t do, both as a group and separately. Although they said they were inexperienced, they used him for their own experimentation and pleasure, but mostly humiliation.
However his time with Charlotte was special. She had confided in him some of her inner thoughts, trying to make their private time together more of a pleasure for both of them. It was his first intimate experience. He thought she really cared for him, trying not to hurt him like the others had done.
He closed his eyes, remembering what she did with him long before she sat on his lap and helped him enter her. She had been so warm, he couldn’t control his body. She asked him many questions about different things regarding his body, what he was feeling—almost like she was doing a research paper.
It will be my time tomorrow to turn things around and ask you some of those same questions.
By the end of the weekend, they all had many experiences to keep to themselves. However, today, the memory of what had happened was much more pleasurable than his former ugly recollections of the past.
The stove was always burning to keep the cabin warm at night. That final afternoon, when Rose was due back, they had gathered around the stove. He could not see what they were doing. They were whispering, laughing to themselves, and then came over to him with their hands behind their backs. He remembered the smell of the wood stove, then the smell of his flesh burning as each of them burned their initials onto his private parts. He passed out from the pain. When he came to, they held up a mirror to show him what they had done.
He remembered crying from the pain. The final humiliation and their laughter had sent chills up his spine. Each of them kissed his tears and then their marks. ‘Sealed with a kiss’ they said. ‘You will always remember what you did to warrant what happened to you. It will be our secret. You won’t be able to tell anyone what happened, because of what you did to deserve it.’
They untied him from the bed and told him to return to his cabin. His legs weren’t working well from being tied up all weekend. When he came running around the back of the cabin to get to his cabin, Rose was standing in front of the girls’ cabin. She had a very surprised look on her face seeing him naked, oiled from head to toe. He made it to his cabin and packed his things. When Rose drove him home later that day, she never asked what happened. He often wondered what she thought about that sight, but that day he was glad she didn’t pursue any details. He never went to the camp again, and never took part in the things he wanted to.
The scars were a constant reminder to him every day and to Karen and Phyllis just before he branded them. Charlotte, do you remember the nice things you said to me that weekend? Did you mean any of it? We’ll see tomorrow.
Chapter 74
Spending the weekend with Scott was marvelous. She had called Judy to say she was going to be detained for an extended period of time with Scott. She would be back to the dorm when they both couldn’t stand each other. She had made a joke out of that, but Judy caught on quickly. Judy reminded her to talk to Scott about Neil and her using his apartment for an evening.
Now it was Sunday and she wondered where the weekend had gone. She was a little apprehensive about telling Scott about her ‘viewing’ but he had quickly learned that there were some advantages for both of them because of it. The memory of her first hour with Scott, having him strip, put a smile on her face.
She decided to see what Scott was up to. She came in the kitchen area, finding him reading the Sunday newspaper. “So, are you tired of me already? The newspaper is more exciting.”
He looked at her with the sheet wrapped around her, and replied, “No honey, you had fallen asleep, so I thought I would give you some time to yourself. I also wanted to see if there were any new strangling cases.”
She went over, sat down on one of the kitchen chairs and studied Scott for a few moments. “So is there any news about him?”
“No not exactly. The paper is making an issue of the reduced manpower on the task force and the lack of any progress. They even made mention of Paddy being in the hospital possibly due to the stress of two back to back investigations. The AG was interviewed and he told the papers it was just a matter of time until they captured the new killer.”
*.*.*
“Lisa we need to talk about something,” I said.
She smiled. “Okay, let’s go,” she said, and she started to get up.
“No Lisa, this is serious. If we go into the bedroom I will never get it out.”
“That’s right!”
“That’s exactly what I mean. I wasn’t talking about that at all. Please this is serious.” I held out my hand to make the point.
“Okay Scott, I’m listening,” she said, lifting the sheet to see my reaction.
“You know Lisa I’ve created a monster. Is that all you can think of?” I replied noticing what she was doing.
She pouted and whispered, “I’m sorry, I’m such a bad girl. I’ve missed years of what we’re doing…and…well I like it.” She paused and closed the sheet just a little. “So what is so serious?”
“Lisa, I’m worried that Jimmy Ballou may be in Boston. And you could be his target.”
“Why in the world do you think that?”
“I say that because of what happened at the camp, because your mother owns the camp. We learned from Jimmy’s mother that he’s in Boston, but the address she had for him is a vacant lot not far from your dormitory. The investigators can’t find a single thing with a reference to his name, and they think he’s using an alias. We also don’t have any recent photos of him, so we don’t know what he looks like.”
“Interesting,” she replied, looking like she was considering what I said. “You have an early photo of him?”
“Yes, but it was a high-school picture.”
“Can I see it?”
She watched me go into the bedroom, coming back with the copy of the yearbook page. I handed it to her.
She studied it for a moment and remarked, “He was a nice looking kid.”
“Read what it says about him. I would like to know what you think.”
She read it. “He fell off the map after his sophomore year.”
“Exactly, very perceptive. We think his branding by the camp counselors restricted his participation in sports. He was hiding what happened to him from everyone.”
“Why would he want to be near me?” she asked.
“Maybe to get back at your mother for what happened to him? You do make a much better target than your mother.”
I noticed her staring at the picture. “Why don’t you ask his parents for a recent picture of him…they must have one?”
“Well it’s just his mom, but that’s a good idea. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“So Scott, do you want to go see her, or do you want to go into the bedroom to see me?” She didn’t wait for an answer but headed towards the bedroom, but the sheet didn’t make the trip and was in a pile at the entrance to the hall.
I thought to myself, it’s not the right time to head to New Hampshire. I could smell the fragrance left behind. It was as intoxicating as ever. I headed toward the bedroom, following my jeans which were now pointing me in that direction.
Chapter 75
The traffic was light heading north on route 93, but extremely heavy on the southbound side. Monday traffic always seemed heavier than the other days of the week. I didn’t have much further to go to get to Mrs. Ballou’s house.
I tried to reach Mike,
but Colleen said he was with the AG going over the unsuccessful stakeout results at Helen Ryder’s house. I didn’t tell Colleen what I was doing as I wanted to talk to Mike directly about getting a more recent photo of Jimmy. What if he’s already done that? What will Mrs. Ballou think? I wonder if she will remember me.
*.*.*
A few minutes later, I was sitting in my car trying to get up enough courage to knock on Mrs. Ballou’s door. I noticed the white curtains move and thought I better go to the door or drive away before she calls someone.
I could see myself walking up the front walk but it was like I was looking down from the sky. I put on my best smile, about to knock on the door when it opened.
“Hello,” Mrs. Ballou said, holding the inside door open slightly.
“Hello Mrs. Ballou, I’m Scott Tucker. I don’t know if you remember me, but I talked with you a few days ago. May I talk with you for a few minutes?”
“Yes I remember you. Please come in,” she said, opening the door fully for me. I opened the storm door, starting to take off my shoes once inside.
“Please, you don’t need to do that,” she instructed waving her hand back and forth. “Please have a seat.” She pointed to the living room.
“Thank you Mrs. Ballou for seeing me. I wanted to ask you if you had a more recent photo of your son.”
She looked shocked at first, and then asked, “Why would you want that?”
I wasn’t prepared to answer that and had to do some quick thinking. “Well, we wanted to talk to him about the camp he used to attend, but we can’t seem to locate him. The picture would help locate him.”
“Didn’t I give you his address in Boston?”
“Yes, but maybe we wrote it down wrong. We couldn’t locate him at that address. What he knows about that camp might help us with our investigation into why some of the camp counselors are being killed. If you have a picture it would help us, but if that’s a problem I understand.”