“I bet they keep tools of some sort over there,” he said, gesturing with his chin.
She walked that way, the chain clinking as she went.
“No, John,” he heard her say.
“You’re almost there. You can do it, Rochelle. Just a little bit farther.”
She maneuvered her body so that she had another inch or so of leeway. The tip of her finger touched the pointed end of a screwdriver. Her breathing was ragged as she pushed and pulled and miraculously managed to knock the screwdriver from the table. It clacked to the floor, and luck was on their side because it rolled in their direction.
She did it! Such a clever girl.
She picked up the screwdriver and held it up for him to see. Her eyes were filled with pain and suffering. He loved her so much.
“See if you can loosen the ropes,” he whispered.
Her chains allowed her to reach the front of him, but she had to strain even further to reach his hands tied behind his chair. She managed to stick the screwdriver between the knots and push and prod. The ropes were loosening. He’d never felt such relief. Just a little longer and his hands would be free.
Hope.
For the first time since they’d been taken, he felt hope, a light ethereal feeling, almost tangible within a room so thick with despair.
“You think I’m weak, don’t you?”
He could see that she was trying to be brave, but the tears wouldn’t stop.
He closed his eyes, concentrated on breathing. He had never loved anyone as he loved Rochelle. Before he could comfort her, the cellar door creaked open.
“Rochelle,” he said, his voice a frantic whisper now. “Somebody’s coming. When he gets close enough, use every bit of strength you can summon to stab him with the screwdriver.”
He let his head fall forward as if he was dead.
Judging by the footsteps, it was only one person. Perfect. He struggled to get his hand loose so that he’d be able to stab the man.
“What’s going on down here?” the man asked.
“Please stop,” Rochelle cried. “I can’t take any more of this. Let me go!” Her forehead fell limp, her head resting on John’s knees, her body shaking.
The man came closer, grabbed her arm, and yanked her away.
John’s eyes were closed, but he could smell the man’s sour breath as he leaned over him.
Now, Rochelle,
he thought.
Do it now.
He heard the clink of her chains. He opened his eyes.
The man hovered over him as Rochelle brought her arm down hard, stabbing him with the screwdriver again and again. He’d never seen her look so angry. She must have gotten him good, because blood was everywhere.
John’s pulse skyrocketed. He pulled with all the strength he had left inside him, twisting and yanking, shocked when his right hand came loose. He reached for the screwdriver and pulled it from the man’s body, then used it to work the knots around his other wrist.
It wasn’t as dark and scary as it sounds. I had a lot of fun…killing somebody’s a funny experience.
—Albert DeSalvo
Davis
Friday, May 25, 2012
Hayley stood in front of her mirrored closet door. She didn’t like the jittery feeling inside. Her nerves were getting the best of her. Jared and Lizzy had talked to her mom and somehow convinced her to come to dinner. Hayley had been at Lizzy’s for a few weeks now, but this was the first time she’d gone out of her way to look “presentable.” She had on a pair of jeans and a mossy green top with three-quarter-length sleeves that Lizzy had bought for her. The clothes felt strange and too snug for her liking.
When she glanced in the mirror, she didn’t recognize herself. Her hair had grown long, a few inches past her shoulders. The ends looked like shit, but whatever. She couldn’t remember her hair ever being so long. She hadn’t bothered to have her piercings redone, mostly because of the restrictions due to her ankle monitor. She had to admit, she was getting used to looking at her face without all of the adornments.
An hour ago she’d thought it was a dumbass thing to do, primping and worrying over things like hair and clothes. But then she’d decided her mom wasn’t the only one who needed to change if they wanted to turn things around. And that’s exactly what Hayley wanted. She would do anything, including dressing up a bit, if it would help her mom stay sober and get the hell away from Brian.
The moment she heard the front door open, her heart pounded harder and faster against her chest. She straightened, took a deep breath, and headed for the other room. It had been almost ten months since she’d seen her mom last, but it felt like years. Jessica had said that her mom appeared to be free of drugs and alcohol, but that was hard to believe since Hayley could count on one hand the number of times she’d spoken to her mom when she was sober.
As Hayley entered the living room, she saw Lizzy come through the door first, followed by Mom. Her hair was now more gray than brown, but she’d combed it and fastened it with a clip. She wore blush and mascara, too.
Hayley was afraid to move, unsure of what to do next. They both stood there and sort of looked each other over. Hayley found her voice and said, “You look good, Mom.”
Her mom stepped her way and reached out to gently brush the hair out of Hayley’s face. “Your hair has gotten long.” She sighed. “You’re so grown up.”
Jared came through the front door next, and he and Lizzy went to the kitchen and made themselves busy.
“Come on,” Hayley said with a wave of her hand toward the couch, disappointed when she caught a whiff of alcohol on her mom’s breath. “Let’s sit down.”
Mom wasn’t drunk, Hayley decided, but she’d probably taken a swig or two from a bottle before coming. Her hands were
shaking, and she looked nervous when she asked if she could see Hayley’s room. The question threw Hayley off balance. She wasn’t sure why the question would make her pause, but it did.
“It’s your private space,” Mom said, waving the request away as if it were an annoying gnat, nothing more. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No,” Hayley said, snapping out of whatever craziness was going on inside her head. “Let’s go to my room. I want you to see it.”
“If you’re sure.”
Hayley led her mom to her room. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, she watched her mom look at all of the knickknacks on the shelf above the desk. Her mom touched the computer monitor and then picked up a framed picture of the two of them. Lizzy had found the picture among her things when she’d moved Hayley’s stuff from the apartment, and then had gone to all the bother of framing it. The photo was of Hayley and her mom outside, the wind blowing their hair to one side. Hayley figured she was thirteen at the time. She and her mom wore twin smiles.
Mom turned away.
Hayley couldn’t see her face, but her shoulders were shaking. She was crying when she said, “We had some good times, didn’t we?”
Hayley closed her eyes. She wanted to go to her and hold her tight, but she also felt a familiar stab of anxiety and anger. Suddenly, she regretted having her here at all.
Mom set the frame down and continued looking around. “Ms. Gardner and her boyfriend…they’ve been good to you?”
“They have.”
“And you like it here?”
“It’s fine.”
“I’m sorry I never put you first.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Shhh, no, listen,” Mom said, her eyes unblinking as she finally got the nerve to look Hayley in the eyes again. “I’m sorry…about everything. When you were little, I told you that things were going to be different, but I turned out to be just like the rest of ’em.”
Mom was talking about her own family: her parents, brothers, aunts, and uncles—all a bunch of crazy, selfish assholes. “You’re not like them,” Hayley tried to assure her.
Mom’s gaze fell to the picture again. “I messed up.” She moved to where Hayley was sitting and sat down next to her. She used her feet to bounce a little and then patted the mattress. “This is nice.”
Hayley sucked in a breath and forced a smile. She could see bruises on her mom’s neck and arms. She wanted to ask her about Brian, but the words wouldn’t come and she knew why. She was afraid to ruin the moment, afraid her mom would get upset and the air would quickly fill up with bad feelings and resentment, clogging their lungs with past mistakes and making it feel as if they were breathing in secondhand smoke. Mom was trying to change, and that was all Hayley had ever wanted.
“Do you want to spend the night?” Hayley asked. “I’m sure Lizzy and Jared wouldn’t mind.”
“I can’t,” she said. “Jared is going to take me to a shelter after dinner.”
Hayley’s heart nearly stopped. “You’re going to go?”
“You didn’t think I would?”
“No,” Hayley said, stunned. “I didn’t think you would agree to it.”
“It’s time.” She anchored a gray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve thought a lot about what you said when I saw you last.” Her voice cracked. “I made bad choices. I’ve been selfish, always putting myself first. It’s time for a change.”
Hayley swallowed a knot in her throat.
Her mom’s head fell forward. She was crying again.
This time Hayley reached over and pulled Mom closer so she had no choice but to rest her head on Hayley’s shoulder. “It’s OK. You didn’t mean to hurt anybody.”
Hayley wasn’t a dreamer. She knew her mom had a long way to go. But that was OK. This could be the beginning of something good—a fresh start was what she needed. It was what they both needed.
Mom lifted her head and wiped her eyes. She patted Hayley on the knee. “We’re gonna be fine.”
“We are,” Hayley agreed. “I really think we might be.”
Marshall Park, Sacramento
Monday, May 28, 2012
Lizzy arrived at Marshall Park at exactly five minutes past 6:00 a.m. She climbed out of the car, breathed in a lungful of crisp morning air, and stretched before beginning her run. When she’d first started running nine months ago, getting her butt to the park consistently had been a constant battle. Now, regardless of weather, she looked forward to her daily run.
Lizzy never would have thought she had the patience to run one mile, let alone five. Running had become an important part of her life. It cleared her head and gave her energy. She’d grown
accustomed to the other runners, paying less attention to her surroundings, at least until all of the recent events. A break-in. An incident with the truck. And the beetles, perfectly placed so that she wouldn’t miss them. And yet no fingerprints had been found, no sign of a break-in at her office. Nothing made sense. She and Jared both knew that the beetles were not a mere coincidence. Lizzy also knew that her freedom, including morning runs like this one, would soon be put to the test. Jared was already in the process of hiring a security guard to watch over her. He would follow her to the office, et cetera. Wherever she would go, he would go.
All thanks to a couple of dead beetles. The Lovebird Killer liked to leave the pine sawyer beetles as some sort of horrifying calling card, letting the police know he’d been there. And yet he wasn’t otherwise consistent. The Lovebird Killer knew exactly what he was doing. He was keeping everyone guessing, screwing with expectations.
As Jared and his crew had recovered evidence inside and outside her office and carefully documented the scene, she had feigned indifference, but felt anything but calm inside. Even this morning, her instincts had cried out, telling her to stay home and hide out for a while, but she refused to do anything of the sort.
Been there, done that.
Someone was playing with her.
One of Spiderman’s friends, perhaps?
She had no idea why another asshole might be toying with her, but she refused to hide away and change her routine. She was done with sick bastards who had nothing better to do than fuck with her.
Up ahead, she saw one of the regular runners at the park sitting on a wood bench lining the parkway. The woman had taken a shoe off and was examining her bare foot.
Lizzy stopped. “Do you need some help?”
“I’m fine,” the woman said. “New shoes, new blister.”
Digging into her belt pack, Lizzy pulled out a Band-Aid. “This should help.”
“Thanks.” The woman took the Band-Aid and then offered her hand. “My name’s Erica.”
Lizzy shook her hand. “Lizzy.”
“I’ve seen you here before. Have you been running for long?”
“Nine months now.”
“Five years,” Erica said as she took care of the blister and then slipped her shoe back on. She waved at a man as he passed by. “That was William. I tried using him the other day to challenge myself, but he’s too fast for me. I need to pace myself.”
Lizzy watched William disappear around the bend.
Erica stood and jogged in place. “Perfect.” She pointed to the path ahead. “If you don’t mind, I’ll run with you to the next cutoff and then I have to get to work.”
They ran together for two minutes before Erica took the path to the right. “It was nice meeting you,” she called out. “Thanks again.”
“No problem. See you later.”
Lizzy continued on. It wasn’t long before she could hear another runner coming up from behind. He passed and she followed behind. He wore a dark hooded sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. He was five foot ten, thin build. He slowed.
She slowed, too.
Her heart rate picked up a notch. Her gaze darted from one side of the path to the other. A copse of trees to her left—the woodsy center of the park—no cutoff path to the main street for another half of a mile. Reaching into her pocket, she grabbed a small can of Mace.
Her jog became a fast walk. She was about to turn and head the other way, when he suddenly twirled around and lunged for
her. All she saw was a fist coming straight at her and smashing into her nose. Staggering backward, she hit the ground hard. Blood spurted from her nose.
He didn’t hesitate to come at her again.
She raised her hand, pressed the button, and sprayed him with Mace.
He grunted and cursed, wiping his face with his sleeve, but his damn sunglasses had stopped the Mace from doing much damage.