by Nolon King
Jordyn could feel people looking at her as they cut through the crowd and headed toward the pool’s edge. She felt painfully out of place, like a church girl entering a den of iniquity.
Sitting on a raft in the center, smoking a big cigar and holding a giant oversized beer stein, sat King Calum. He wore shades and a paper crown, surrounded by guys and girls in varying stages of sobriety. Some of the girls were topless.
“Jordyn, you came!”
He looked genuinely happy to see her. He was also shit-faced, so he was probably genuinely happy to see anyone.
“Happy birthday!” she said, waving to him.
“Indeed it is! Why don’t you come in?”
“Um, I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”
“Get naked,” Calum said.
Jordyn wasn’t sure if he was joking. Before she could think of a response, Brianna said, “I have a suit you can wear if you want.”
“Thanks,” Jordyn said. “Maybe in a bit.”
Calum said, “Has anyone gotten you a drink yet?”
“I’m good.”
“No, it’s my birthday, and I insist that you drink something. Brianna, get Jordyn something to drink!”
Brianna walked away, leaving Jordyn with Bethanee, smiling like a robot that didn’t know what to do in the absence of its master.
A football whizzed toward Jordyn.
She caught it and tossed back a perfect spiral at the big oaf who’d thrown it.
Calum took off his shades. “Woah, nice arm, Parish! Bobby didn’t tell me you play.”
“I played a bit in middle school.”
“Wow. I am impressed.”
“If you want, I can give you some tips,” she joked.
Bethanee laughed.
“I bet you could.” Calum smiled.
She wasn’t sure if he was still talking football or if he was sliding into perversion. Either way, she was relieved when Brianna returned with a drink.
“Here, made it myself,” she said, raising a tall glass of neon blue drink with plenty of ice.
“What is it?”
“An aqua blue cruise.”
“I dunno,” Jordyn said, “I don’t handle liquor well.”
“It’s a virgin. No alcohol.”
Jordyn lifted it to her nose. It had a fruity smell and the burn of alcohol.
“It’s not a virgin drink,” Jordyn said handing it back.
Brianna laughed. “Come on; one drink won’t kill you.”
Calum chanted, “Drink, drink, drink!”
Everyone stared, then joined in the chant.
Where the hell is Bobby?
She looked around. The crowd was filled with drunken, wasted schoolmates, yelling at Jordyn to drink, but no Bobby.
She’d gone most of her life managing to avoid situations like this. Peer pressure had always seemed like one of those things that happened to other kids, those who cared what people thought. Jordyn had always considered herself above it all. Immune.
Time crawled. A cold panic crept across her body as everyone urged her to drink.
It was all so stupid, and she hated that she couldn’t just walk away and ignore the crowd.
She brought the drink to her lips and took a sip. It was surprisingly good.
The crowd cheered.
She downed the drink just to get it over with, and prove that she wasn’t some prude who couldn’t have fun. That she was one of them.
Jordyn woke hunched over the toilet.
Her head felt light, confused.
She got up, barely able to stand.
She was sweating.
She reached for the bathroom doorknob, thought she turned it, but somehow missed.
She tried again.
It opened.
She ran into Brianna in the hallway.
“I don’t feel good,” she said.
“What’s wrong?” Brianna asked.
“I dunno.”
Jordyn tried walking but stumbled.
Brianna caught her. “Woah!”
“I need Bobby. Where’s Bobby?” Jordyn looked around, but they were the only ones in the hall. Then she realized that they weren’t in a hall. This was a bedroom.
“Okay. Just lay down here. I’ll get Bobby.”
Brianna held her around the waist, leading her to the bed. “Here ya’ go, honey. Just lay down here. I’ll get Bobby, okay?”
“Okay,” Jordyn said, starting to cry, scared and confused, feeling like she was going to die.
She laid down on the bed, praying for Bobby.
Chapter 38 - Mallory Black
Mal was back in her old home, handcuffed to the bed.
She could hear a girl crying, No!
Another dream of Jessi Price.
But it wasn’t Jessi on the floor in danger of rape and murder from Paul Dodd. It was Ashley.
“Stay away from her!” Mal screamed, struggling against the cuffs, glaring at Paul, fingers twitching, wanting to tear the skin from his bones.
He laughed.
Ashley cried, “Don’t let him hurt me, Mommy.”
Mal pulled at the cuffs, the metal cutting into her skin, blood forming rings around her wrist.
Paul reached out to touch the girl’s hair, licking his lips as he whispered, “Soooo, pretty.”
“Stay the fuck away from her!” Mal kicked, bucking in the bed, unable to break free.
Paul looked up at her and winked.
A gunshot.
The man in black came into the room as Paul fell to the ground.
The Hunter.
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you soooo much.”
But he was too busy talking to someone who wasn’t there.
“Who are you talking to?”
The Hunter met Mallory’s eyes. “What? You don’t see her?”
“See who?”
Just as the man was about to say her name, Mal woke in a cold sweat.
She reached out in the darkness for the lamp, but it wasn’t there.
What the hell?
Her hand searched the darkness, then brushed against something cold and wet.
She brought it to her face and smelled blood, tasted copper in the back of her throat.
A light came on.
She looked down to see the source of the blood. Her daughter’s dead body, blood seeping from her open mouth, soaking the front of her pajamas.
Mal screamed, falling backward off the other end of the bed.
Hands grabbed her.
She spun around to see Paul Dodd, smiling.
“So pretty.”
Mal screamed.
Then she woke in her hotel room, lamp on, heart racing, trying to catch her breath.
She looked over in her bed, fully expecting to see Ashley’s bloody corpse.
But Mal was all alone.
She stood, frantic, searching for her purse, fumbling past everything, hands desperate for the bottle’s familiar, comforting shape.
She found it, pulled it out, hands shaking, unscrewed the cap.
She dumped two pills into her trembling hand and stared at the enemy.
Don’t do it.
Don’t do it.
Don’t do it.
Chapter 39 - Jasper Parish
Jasper ran over his mental checklist.
He was reasonably certain that he’d done everything he needed to do.
He’d flown into Miami and rented a hotel room for two days to establish an alibi on the off chance that this was somehow traced back to him.
He’d bought a car from a used lot, paid cash, and showed a fake ID.
Then he drove eight hours north and parked outside Tony’s house, watching and waiting.
He’d brought the kill bag — with the ski mask, gloves, lockpick, knife, and gun.
He had everything he needed.
Jasper stared at the light in the man’s house, waiting for it to die for the night. He waited for Carissa to show up and tell him not to do it. Tell him that he was risking everything t
o murder a man in cold blood.
“You’re not a killer,” she would say.
And then he would argue, asking the point of seeing a murderer butcher his family if he couldn’t do a thing about it?
But Carissa didn’t show.
And Jasper wasn’t having any second thoughts.
He was more committed to his course than ever before.
In the three nights after he’d started taking the pills, he’d had another three visions of murders. All of them true.
Two were solved.
But Tony Alvarez had walked free. CCSO was still looking for a black suspect in a hoodie.
Jasper wasn’t sure how Tony wasn’t a suspect. Did he know someone high up in the DA’s office? Did he have incriminating photos of someone important?
Or were the detectives simply lacking the evidence?
Whatever the case, Jasper couldn’t allow Alvarez to walk free.
The man’s light finally died. Tony was next.
Jasper waited.
He wished he could call Jordyn to check in on her, but he’d specifically left his cell phone at the room in South Florida. If someone ever checked his GPS records, they would back up his alibi, saying he was in the hotel all night. Besides, Bobby had proven not to be the irresponsible asshole he first seemed to be. He appeared to be a decent kid who cared about Jordyn.
And while a part of Jasper hated to admit he was wrong about the kid, he was also happy to be wrong if it meant Jordyn’s happiness.
He drove around the neighborhood a bit, checking to see any sign of deputies watching Tony. Seeing nothing of note, Jasper drove back to an abandoned lot one block over, on a quiet street with only two other homes at the beginning, and empty wooded lots the rest of the way.
He parked at the end of the street, got out, slipped on his ski mask, grabbed his kill bag, and headed through the woods into Tony’s back yard.
Jasper stared down at the man, sleeping more soundly than he had any right to. In the very room where he had butchered his family. He looked at the scar on Tony’s stomach, where he’d stabbed himself with the machete. A stupid place to stab yourself. He was lucky he hadn’t died.
That luck had run out.
Jasper looked around the room. No photos of his wife or son on the dresser or walls. In fact, the walls were all empty. And the room smelled of paint.
“How can you sleep?” Jasper asked.
Tony’s eyes opened, startled.
Jasper turned on his flash light, blinding the man. “Don’t move or I will shoot.”
Tony froze, his eyes wide and terrified. “What do you want? I got money in my office safe. Just take it.”
“I didn’t come for money.”
“What do you want, then?”
“A confession.”
“What?”
“I want to know what happened to your wife and child.”
“What? Is this a joke? Ain’t you watched the fucking news?” Tony tried to get a look at Jasper, but couldn’t see anything beyond the bright light.
“Oh, I saw the news alright.”
“Then you know what happened.”
“I saw a liar lying.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Oh, you know. I just want to hear you say it.”
“Say what? That some fucker came in here and killed my wife and son, tried to kill me too? Are you him? Did you come back to finish the job?”
Jasper laughed. “Wow, you almost seem like you believe that bullshit yourself.”
“What are you talking about?” Tony said, starting to sit up.
“Lay down!” Jasper bashed his knee with the flashlight, crunching bone when it landed.
“Fuck!” Tony cried out, reaching down to cradle his knee.
“I said don’t move.”
“What do you want?” he repeated, curled almost fetal, clutching his knee.
“I already told you, I want the truth.”
“I told you.”
Jasper brought the light down again, this time on the man’s shoulder.
“Fuck!”
“Stop lying. It’s time to tell the truth, Tony. What happened to your wife and son?”
He growled, “I told you. That fucker murdered them.”
“The black man in the hoodie?”
“Yeah, him!”
“What did he look like?”
“I dunno, he was fucking black. They all look the same in the dark.”
“Wow, that’s one hell of a description, Tony. A lot for a sketch artist to go on!”
“Sorry if I can’t remember the exact fucking details of the man that killed my family!”
“Oh, I think you can. You’re just not trying.”
“Get up.”
“You broke my knee. I can’t!”
“I’m not asking again.”
Tony gingerly set his feet on the ground.
Jasper took a few steps back to keep a safe distance in case he tried anything. He also kept the light on Tony’s eyes so the murderer couldn’t see what Jasper was holding in his other hand.
“Ow!” he cried out, putting weight on his foot.
“Walk to the bathroom.”
“I can’t.”
“You will. I don’t care if you have to crawl. Go to the bathroom. Now.”
Tony winced, limping forward, his hand on the wall to keep himself from falling over. Eventually, and with much whining, Tony made it.
He stood just inside the bathroom where he killed his wife and child. But he wasn’t looking at the ground.
“You want to see who killed them? Turn left.”
The man turned to his reflection.
“Fuck you,” he said.
“Why did you do it?”
“I didn’t do it. Are you fucking deaf?”
“If you lie to me again, I will break your other knee.”
Tony winced as he leaned against the sink, taking the weight off his bad leg.
“Sit down,” Jasper said.
“What?”
“Sit where they were sitting.”
Tony shook his head. “Fuck you.”
Jasper stepped forward and barked, “Sit!”
Tony stumbled backward and fell on his ass.
“Good. Now tell me why you killed them. And if you tell me again that you didn’t do it, or say anything other than the one hundred percent unvarnished truth, I will chop the fucking head from your body.”
Jasper allowed his light to flash on the machete in his right hand. Then he flashed it back into Tony’s weeping eyes. “Talk.”
Tony cried. “I don’t know what happened. Something dark came over me. I was pissed at Elena. Just in a dark place and she kept egging me on.”
“So you killed her?”
“I don’t know why. I loved her, I swear.” He cried, but Jasper had no patience for crocodile tears.
“And you killed your kid too. What the fuck?”
“I don’t know,” Tony blabbered. “I think it was the meds. I was taking these pills for depression. I think they … they made things worse.”
“Bullshit.”
“I swear. Look in the medicine cabinet,” Tony said, pointing up above him. “Things just got dark, man. I don’t know what came over me. It wasn’t me. Ask anyone who knew us, man. Please, don’t hurt me.”
Jasper was sick in his gut, suffering the man’s pitiful begging. Even if his pills had made him go to a damned dark place, black enough that he murdered his wife and child, that didn’t excuse his covering it up.
“Okay, if your meds made you do it, why not tell the detectives? Why put it on someone that doesn’t even exist? You set into motion a manhunt for a ‘black guy in a hoodie.’ Do you realize how irresponsible that is? How many ‘suspicious looking black dudes’ are gonna get pulled over and interrogated, hell, maybe wrongfully charged for your cowardice?”
“I’m sorry. I’ll call the police now and confess everything. Just please, don’t kill me.”
Tony fell to the ground, crying, touching the ground where his wife and child had cowered. “What did I do?” he cried, over and over and over.
Jasper felt pity for the man and hated him for it.
He didn’t want to pity Tony.
He didn’t want a possible explanation that removed some of the man’s guilt. An explanation that made him any less of a monster.
Jasper had come to the house to kill a demon, not a man who may have been wrong in the head.
He moved toward Tony, gripping the machete. He’d fantasized about the kill many times in the past couple of weeks while watching the case unfold with the sheriff’s office no closer to the truth.
He’d fantasized how he would make Tony beg in the same position as his wife.
How he would chop through the man’s arm, then straight into his head.
He would deliver perfect justice.
But, as he stood over the bawling man, Jasper no longer felt like someone dispensing punishment, but rather like a criminal cleaning his own mess, not all that different from Tony.
He wondered how the hell he’d gotten here. He thought he was doing the right thing. Delivering justice that nobody else could or would.
But it sure the hell didn’t feel like that now.
Fuck.
Jasper drew a deep breath and raised the machete, staring down at Tony, angels and demons in his shoulder battling over the man’s punishment.
The walls were closing in.
Jasper had crossed the line between good and evil.
But maybe it still wasn’t too late to cross back the other way.
He hadn’t murdered anyone yet.
He’d broken into the man’s home and assaulted him. Yes, he’d had the intention of killing him, but no one could prove it. And he was wearing a mask.
How could he murder this sobbing mess of a man now that he saw all the shades of gray that might have factored into his actions?
This was why you had courts of law.
He wasn’t capable of deciding. He didn’t have enough evidence, and that made him fallible.
He thought he’d been right in coming here.
True in his mission.
But now he was clouded by doubt.
He stepped back, hesitating.
Tony lunged at him, knocking Jasper to the ground, hitting his head, hard. He felt lightheaded, darkness blurring his vision as Tony crawled on top of him.