by Ian Worrall
Her face is shaking as tears start welling up in her eyes. I could rip your lungs out with my bare hands, you bastard. Her jaw clenches as she makes a hissing sound breathing through her teeth. Or even better, with my teeth.
“Leave my center . . . now,” she says as she tries to regain her composure.
“Yes, ma’am.” He turns away from her and leaves the center.
In tears, Melissa sits down in one of the chairs at the head of the circle. Arlene sits down next to her and hands her a cup of chamomile tea.
“Here, sweetie. This should help you relax.”
“Thanks.” Melissa takes a sip as Arlene takes her hand.
“What was that about?”
“Some cop wanted to know if we could help out on a murder case.”
“Really?”
“Apparently, a bunch of rapists have been killed.”
“You said no, I take it?”
“Exactly. I mean look at me,” she says, opening her arms while being careful not to spill her tea. “I’m still the same ninety-pound weakling I was in high school. How am I going to overpower a man?”
Arlene shrugs, “You probably couldn’t.” But I didn’t ask if you did it.
“You’re the martial arts black belt. That’s what a woman would need, isn’t it? To have any kind of a chance?”
“Either that or a gun,” Arlene replies.
“Like I could handle a gun? You were with me when Max took me shooting one time and the damn gun kept flying out of my hand.”
“Is murder ever justified?” Arlene asks.
“I would guess not. But you won’t see me crying for anyone other than the victims of rape.” She wipes the tears from her face. “Got to keep it together for the meeting.”
Arlene puts her arms around her and pulls Melissa onto her lap. “It’s almost an hour before anyone’s here. Let it out for a while.” Melissa cries onto her shoulder as Arlene rubs her arms and back. “It’s OK,” she says as she rocks Melissa. Did this ever happen to you? she doesn’t ask.
As she feels the larger woman holding her tight, Melissa continues to put up a front of emotional vulnerability. I’m gonna slip if I don’t keep my myself together, she chastises herself. A thin smile cracks her lips. Arlene, you will never know what I’ve become.
* * *
Jackie, Zach, and the detective who caught the Mark Nelson file see Mitchell on the monitor. The view from the lapel camera caught all the video and audio of the exchange. With the side door opening, Jackie turns and offers Mitchell a thin, not-so-happy-to-see-you smile.
“Did you catch all that?” Mitchell asks.
“Yes. Yes, I did.”
“And any thoughts?”
“Yours first,” Jackie says.
“Can’t see the little one doing it. She’s all of one-hundred pounds soaking wet. No way she’s carrying a guy. The other one, maybe.”
Mitchell sees Jackie’s nostrils flaring and her jaw and fists clenching. “Anything wrong?”
“Yeah, you could say that,” she says.
“Spit it out then.”
“She was right. Teach women how not to get raped? Try teaching men not to rape.”
“I did what I did to gauge the kind of reaction I would get.”
“You certainly got a reaction,” Jackie says.
“That I did.”
“And are we, the police, going to come up with courses to teach men not to rape?”
“They do have sex offender programs in prison.”
“How about before they commit the crime?” Jackie says.
“If you have a situation where both are drunk, or the guy loses his job or is going through a nasty divorce, a female friend comes over to help, visit, or whatever, and he or she or both have a few drinks, he ends up forcing himself on her. That’s a situation where the guy can be taught not to rape. A sex offender program could probably work on him.” He pauses as he takes his coat off. “You have a sexual predator who stalks his victims, breaks into their houses or anything else like that. The only way to teach that guy not to rape is to execute him or put him in prison until he’s so old even a kitten could over power him.”
“That might be true but shouldn’t we start in high school or earlier to teach boys not to put themselves in a situation where they might actually rape a woman? Teach better ways to cope with stress than hitting the alcohol?”
Mitchell pats her on the shoulder. “A sociopath doesn’t care about women’s rights. If he did he wouldn’t rape them.”
She gets up from her chair and leaves the van slamming the door behind her. She speaks into the camera and microphone on her lapel. “Video and audio check.” She hears a knock on the door indicating everything is working.
Cars start pulling into the parking lot as women arrive for the meeting. Mitchell and the other detective are watching as Jackie and the other women make their way into the center.
With the last of the women entering, Mitchell takes a DSLR camera with a telephoto lens and starts taking pictures of the license plates of the twenty cars.
The second detective with him watches the video of the survivor’s group. Mitchell finishes his photos and puts the camera in a case.
“Look at how many victims. What kind of man rapes a woman?”
“A man doesn’t,” Mitchell says. “They’re slugs, or life forms below that.”
“Yeah, but it kind of sucks to have to investigate public service murders.”
“Our job is to uphold the law, not make it or interpret it.”
“She is right though,” Zach says. “Go to the source. Teach men not to rape.”
Five minutes later, the meeting is in session. Melissa and Arlene are at the head of the group with the twenty Rape Survivors and Jackie sitting in a semicircle ahead of them.
A red head woman starts speaking. “Talking about my experience with this group has helped in my recovery. I can now go out without having to feel I have to look over my shoulder. And now that he’s dead, as bad as it sounds, I feel better.”
“Mike Cairn hurt you deeply,” Arlene says to her. “Do you feel guilty for being happy that he’s dead?”
“A little, but it’s a guy who won’t ever be able to hurt another woman. My friend, another one of his victims, committed suicide because of what he did to her. So, his murder seems a little like poetic justice.”
She sits down then Doris stands up.
“The one who molested me died a few days ago too.”
“Murdered?” Melissa asks.
“No. Apparently, he was drunk and fell off his balcony eleven floors to his death.”
“And how do you feel?” Arlene asks
“Safer. Is that wrong?”
“No,” Melissa says. “They say men were given the strength to protect women. A man who hurts a woman is not a man.”
Some of the other women nod. Seeing an opportunity, Jackie stands up. “I need you to know, this is my second time here. But despite this I am ready to speak. My name is Michelle Clancy and I am a victim. I was roofied three years ago on spring break.”
Melissa’s eyes narrow at the police detective from the night of the bombing at Danil’s house. I know who you are and you won’t solve this. “How are you feeling today, and why did it take you so long to come here?”
“I guess I tried to block out what happened. But it got to the point where my drinking interfered with, pretty much everything. Work, relationships. Haven’t had sex since that night.”
Melissa winks. “That would be rough.”
“Yeah it is,” Jackie says.
An hour later with the meeting breaking up, Melissa is still sitting in her chair. Two cops here in one night and I know they’re partners. Do I need to plan my escape now?
If only I had the courage to stand up to Danil then, but who would have protected women if I had? Maybe it’s true, things happen for a reason. As a wise man once said, life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.
I reme
mber the new woman from the night the house got bombed. The cops now have an undercover agent in our midst. What do they know? Got to get my guy to get his cop on it.
Arlene sits down next to her, putting her arm around her shoulders and hands her another cup of camomile tea. “Like another?”
Melissa takes the cup. “Thanks.”
“You seemed a little distracted tonight.”
Melissa shrugs one of her shoulders. “It’s just that cop that came by earlier, before the meeting.”
Arlene pulls Melissa close and kisses her on top of her head.
“He was just doing his job,” Arlene says.
“I know. But you see what getting raped does to a woman every week.”
“Yeah, I do.”
Jackie walks up to the two of them as Arlene stands up kissing Melissa on the top of her head again. “If you ever need to talk, you know where I am.”
“I do,” Melissa says wondering if her friend suspects what happened to her. Gritting her teeth, she looks at Jackie and stops herself from turning up the corner of her lip. I could take her if I had to.
“Need anything more?”
“Are there any other counselors that you know of?” Jackie asks.
“Yeah, we got some names. They’re in the back. Come with me.” Melissa stands up and Jackie follows her to her office. Sitting down at her desk, she opens a drawer and hands her three business cards.
Jackie looks around at the bare walls of the office. Nothing here to suggest this woman could be a killer. As a petite woman, she could have been a victim. But Mitch said the girl ten years ago was blonde. But dye jobs aren’t too difficult.
“Only three?”
“I trust those three.”
“OK.”
“If you can’t afford them you should ask your family doctor for a referral.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks.” She extends her hand and Melissa accepts the handshake. Can’t let them know that I know she’s a cop. Jackie smiles and nods.
Chapter 30
A rlene and Melissa sit down in the back of their favorite coffee shop. Both have a large latte. The cups have the fair-trade logo on them. Arlene has a baby carriage with her newborn baby. Melissa kisses her finger and then taps her finger to the sleeping infant’s lips.
“He’s so cute.”
“So, when are you and Max going to have kids?”
“We might adopt. We’ve been trying for years.”
“At least you get to have some fun,” Arlene notices Melissa’s eyes watering.
“Yeah, there’s that.”
“So, I presume he’s good, if you’ve been together for ten years?”
“Oh yeah. About nine inches. Feels like I’m on a skewer. It probably weighs about what I do. Orgasm every time,” Melissa wipes a tear that starts rolling down her face.
“It’s good you’re able to relax outside of the office.”
Melissa clenches her fists under the table wondering what Arlene would think if she knew what she was.
“I am concerned though,” Arlene says, “about the police coming around.”
“It’s probably nothing to worry about.”
“Murder is nothing to worry about?”
“I really don’t want to talk about it. It’s only rapists that are dying,” Melissa says.
“Well –”
“Well what?” Melissa asks.
“It’s just that –”
“What?”
“They would have a pretty deep pool of suspects,” Arlene says.
Melissa shrugs her shoulder while still clenching her fists under the table.
“What if it’s any of the women in our group?”
“I seriously doubt any of our women could physically do it,” Melissa says.
“More than a few have told us they bought a gun.”
“Yeah for self defense. They have jobs, most of them, so hardly any time to go hunting.” Shouldn’t have said that, I don’t have a job.
“Couldn’t we be held liable?”
“I don’t know. I’m not a lawyer,” Melissa says.
“I know you’re not a lawyer. I just don’t want anything to happen to the group.”
“Let’s talk about something else. I’m taking a vacation.”
“Where are you and Max going?”
“It’s just me. I need some me time.”
“Good for you sweetie. You deserve a break.”
Chapter 31
A n hour later inside her garage, the stone set in her eyes and jaw, Melissa checks the guns deciding which to take. The handgun would be best, which she puts in her purse along with her cyanide canister. She hasn’t quite decided how she wants to kill Blauer—gun, poison, or something else. Her last weapon is a black switchblade knife.
In the suitcase, she starts placing clothes and adult diapers to bring on her trip to the windy city of Chicago. Her last items to pack are a prescription medication in the name of Celine Charlebois, a Quebec provincial ID in the same name, and a Quebec provincial license plate.
As she closes the doors to her weapons storage, the hidden door to the tunnel opens and Danil climbs up the ladder. Melissa smiles at him as they walk towards each other. “Car ready?”
“Sure is, my love.” He bends down, puts his arms around her and lifts her off her feet as he kisses her on the lips while she wraps her legs around him. “There’s a grey Volkswagen Beetle at the Traveller’s Motel. I’ve got the car key in my pocket.”
“License?”
“Got a Nova Scotia plate on it.”
“Great.”
He starts carrying her towards the door.
“Is my money ready?”
“It will be when you get back.”
“You said it would be ready before I go away. What’s the delay?”
“Some people not paying. Might have more jobs for you when you get back outside of the ten Black Roses still to go. There is however fifty large in the room safe.”
They enter her bedroom. “I really should get going.”
“Just one more hour of your time. Then you can go.”
He lays her down on the bed and pulls her pants off. Melissa takes her underwear off as Danil unzips his pants.
* * *
Colton Harris pulls Haley off his shoulder and sits her on the top of the couch. Dressed only in her panties and bra, tears are flowing down her cheek. Her hands are tied in front and duct tape covers her mouth.
He blows air in her hair as he runs his hand down her face and then kisses her on the forehead.
“What a great time we’re having, my precious,” he says. “A few more hours and it will all be over.” He tears the duct tape off her mouth and kisses her on the lips trying to make out with her.
Haley knees him in the groin and he doubles over as she scratches his neck.
“You little bitch! How dare you hit me!” he screams and then punches her twice in the stomach. She pulls her elbows to her stomach trying to grab herself gasping for air as he then hits her in the jaw knocking her out. Her head makes a dull thud hitting the floor.
He drags her by the hair out of his living room. All the beatings his father gave him, the bullying he went through in school. As the skinny kid who was smaller than the girls at one point, even some of them would take turns at humiliating him. How embarrassing for a guy to be picked up and carried over a girl’s shoulder. The girls who he asked to dance wouldn’t just say no, they’d laugh in his face as they did it. Now I give them pay back.
Never fit in with anyone. Never cool enough for the jocks, smart enough for the nerds, or dark enough for the Goths. He played Dungeons and Dragons and video games on his own. Eventually the neighborhood dogs and cats became the monsters he slayed. The girl’s underwear he stole became like the dragon’s treasure. His first deliberate kill after the girl he smothered was with a machete, a weapon that was like a magic sword. Killing, he found, was something he enjoyed and was good at. He now had the power over who would live
and die.
He switched to drowning when his first victim was found a few hours after the killing. Watching true crime TV shows and reading books, he figured drowning his victims would be perfect; washes away evidence. Some people are never found, eaten by any number of scavengers and predators.
Colton then learned the best places to dump bodies, the lowest traffic areas, what marine life abounded where, what bridges were low enough to throw his victims off to avoid instant death upon hitting the water. It was a painstaking process but a necessary one. Now my vengeance will continue.
In the bathroom, he puts a large bandage over the scratch on his neck. A meticulous killer, he has at least two rolls of duct tape in every location of his house. He grabs one off the toilet tank and unrolls a long strip. Stepping over Haley he undoes the bindings securing her wrists in front of her. Spinning her over she starts to wake up and tries to flail as he kneels on top of her back and prevents her from moving. He pulls her arms behind her and secures her wrists and ankles.
He turns her back over and sees that she is crying. He replaces the duct tape on her mouth. Kissing her on the forehead, he whispers, “Don’t worry, little darling. Just a few more hours.” He kisses her again and from his back pocket he pulls a box cutter knife and starts feeling her up. “What lovely skin you have,” he says, running his hand in circular motions from her stomach up to her breasts. At the same time, he makes circular motions with the blade of the knife, with just enough pressure so Haley can feel it but not enough to cut, all over her until he gets to her bra. He cuts her bra off and puts it to his face, breathing in deeply before throwing it to the side. “A little souvenir to remember you by.”
He kisses her again then slides himself down to sit on her shins. “Can’t wait to see your buried treasure, sweetie.” Repeating the process of cutting her underwear off, he puts the panties to his face and breathes in deeply again. She is now trying to beg him to stop through the duct tape gag.
“What’s that?” he asks. “Looking forward to getting fucked? A little fun before the main event? I am going to give you a time you’ll remember for the rest of your life. Which is only about five more hours, but it’s still something though.”