Broken (7 page)

Despite being stunned and terrified, Diane squealed and squirmed. She kicked out at the man but he descended on her viciously, raining several swift hammer-blows that left her fighting for consciousness while he bound her hands and ankles with duct tape. He finished by slapping a piece over her mouth, then waited for her senses to return enough to get what he needed.

“I only want one thing from you, anything else that happens to you after this is completely your responsibility, do I make myself clear?” he asked, the shiny tip of his spring loaded knife waggling before her horrified eyes.

Slowly, she nodded.

He gave her a moment to digest her situation, then spoke again, “Now, I’m going to ask you a question, if you scream, I’ll kill you. If you lie, I’ll kill you, get the idea?”

She nodded quickly, her eyes staying with the blade as it skimmed her cheek.

“I’m gonna take the tape off so you can answer me.” He pressed the point upward just under her chin, “Think you can give me an answer without doing something stupid?”

With a faint whimper she nodded quickly.

Ripping the tape savagely from her mouth, he used her gasp of pain as an excuse to pierce the tender skin of her neck driving his message home clearly.

“What’s the combination to the safe in Samantha Backer’s office?”

Diane’s eyes bulged, loosing tears down her face as the extent of her situation hit with brutal force.

--

No one noticed the new janitor who moved smoothly through the offices not long after Diane left, and upon reaching Samantha Backer’s, as he had with all the others, unlocked it and entered, pushing his cleaning cart before him.

Moving directly to the desk, Randy bent down, scoping the reception area while reaching for the trash can. With the front desk temporarily unmanned, he dumped the garbage then moved into the shadow thrown by the book case where on the bottom shelf there sat a small rotary dial safe.

Bitch better not have lied to me,
he thought quickly, spinning the dial back and forth to the appointed numbers. The faint snick of the latch releasing gave him cause to smile as he opened the door and slid a 9x12 manila envelope off the shelf. He tossed it into the garbage sack on the cart with one hand and closed the safe with the other.

As he rose, with this part of his mission complete, he glanced around the office. On one of the book shelves against the wall he saw a picture of Sam and Jase kissing in a covered wagon at last year’s Frontier Days festival.

He winced as his father’s voice boomed through his head,
“For God’s sake, Sandra! Do you have to carry on with these… playmates of yours IN OUR HOUSE!? Under the roof WE share?”

“
Oh please, Carl,” Sandy huffed haughtily, “It’s not as if there’s anything going on in OUR bed.”

“
What if the children find out? Have you thought about that? What would you tell them?” he argued.

“
Maybe I’ll just have to explain to them why daddy’s got no desire for his own WIFE!”

“Nuh,” he choked as another voice came to him.

“
Thaaaaat’s right, good, yeeeeeessss, that’s right, and when he stands up nice and straight you’ll know your little soldier’s ready…”

“
Stop.” He whimpered, “Please, you’re HURTING ME!”

“Nuh,” his eyes popped open as the main door to the Outreach Center burst open setting his heart racing in his chest.

Barely able to breathe he watched a man with an armload of carryout and drinks walk hastily toward the back. His gaze turned back to the picture, falling onto Jase’s profile.

“I’ll save you man.”

--

It’s daytime!

It’s a risk, but it has to be done.

Wait until tonight, wait until late so they find her in the morning! Fucking billboard before breakfast!

What? And give her another night to sink her claws that much deeper into the poor son of a bitch? I mean come ON!

What’s one more night?

It’s ONE NIGHT TOO MANY! She deserves to pay! Every single one of these filthy, vile, two-timing,
he shook his head,
No, it’s quiet up here, I know this place like my own back yard.

Like you knew the clearing by Dave’s?

SHUT UP! That WASN’T my fault! He wasn’t supposed to be there! If he’d been at home like he was supposed to be I wouldn’t have had to, I wouldn’t have had to…
his breath caught in his throat as a fine layer of sweat broke over him.

It’s safe here,
he assured himself, pulling the van into the shadow of a small grove of trees. Just on the other side of the hill was a jogging path that, thanks to the odd morning hour, was largely abandoned. It wouldn’t be for very long, he knew, but it wouldn’t take him long to make his warning heard.

It’s her own fault, she shouldn’t have done that, she shouldn’t be… he’s gonna get hurt and it’s her fault.
His heart pounded deep in his throat as burning heat flickered from his chest up his neck and throat until it cradled his head on either side. The cottony buzz of barely contained rage drowned out everything but him, the lee side of the hill and the indignation that held him by the scruff of the neck.

He threw open the vans rear doors, grabbed Diane by the ankle, and with a twist of his body, yanked her out into the daylight. With the sun shining in her face, she blinked hard trying to squirm away as he fiercely stalked her.

Her eyes grew wide watching him. Every motion screamed ‘predator,’ ‘feral,’ his shoulders bunched, and his body seemed to slink toward her. Pure focused malice glittered in gem-like eyes she would have thought quite beautiful under different circumstances.

His teeth clenched, lips drawn back in a savage animal snarl, he dropped his knee into her belly, “Did you really think you could get away with it? HUH! Did you really? Do ANY of YOU?” he raged grabbing her by the hair.

Diane had no clue how or why she’d become the target of his fury. Her body, with the impact of his knee into her belly simply seemed to ‘pop’. Things broke inside, not the least of which were bones, but the worst of which were soft delicate organs, some of which she knew, as blood rose into the back of her throat, were already mortally damaged with such a simple move. In spite of her certain doom, her eyes tried to plead with him, her head shook back and forth in denial and her body tried to escape this impossible creature atop her.

How can he be the same man?
She wondered fleetingly, picturing again the bright soft smile he’d beamed at her in the parking garage as he helped her gather up her things,
It’s not possible,
but it was.

Again, his steely fists rained down on her, leaving her dazed and grateful for the sudden disconnection from the excruciating agony inside.

“Each and every one of you
sick, evil…
you’ve got ONE tool and you use it without a thought for the lives or the PEOPLE you FUCKING TEAR APART!”

She shook her head in denial, aware of the sensation of his hands sliding up her skirt and grasping her hose then clawing them down with one hand while the keen edge of his blade pressed against the base of her throat inviting her blood out beneath it.

“Oh, yeah!” he nodded, “Oh, YES YOU DO! Don’t you DARE lie to me, bitch!”

The color red rose in a line down the length of her blouse, trailing behind the edge of his knife, every frantic, struggling breath accentuated now by that burning line of red against white, “You’re gonna tell her, you’re gonna be a fucking billboard, and then she’ll HAVE to see!”

“
Maybe there’s something wrong with HIM? Maybe he’s broken and can’t feel what love REALLY is…”

His jaw clenched against the mocking voice inside, he threw his head back, teeth grinding, “Oh, yes I can! Show you I can you fucking bitch!” he ground out while beneath the tape Diane gagged on her scream.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” he flipped her over, his knife hand swinging over and over, the pommel came down again and again until bone cracked and her body lay twitching beneath him.

Panting he tossed the skirt up over her hips, his eyes locked into the memory of another day.
Please, please…
he slid the jumpsuit off his naked shoulders, his hand gliding over his gasping chest and quivering belly, watching the blade graze his sweat-slicked skin.

He swept the woman’s hair, blood and scalp bits off the pommel into the grass, then ran the cool metal down the side of his pulsing hardness. When the first pearly drop of moisture emerged into the open daylight he grasped his shaft firmly, spreading that bit of wetness with his thumb before climbing astride her. His fingers jabbed into her recesses for a split second before he forced his way into her, barely eliciting a squeak.

He grasped her around the chest, holding her against him just in case she tried to start squirming again, “I do know how, I do!” He ground furiously, captive to his memories until his release was final.

Holding her tightly while the last few spasms shook him, he swept aside her hair with his right hand and pressed his mouth to her neck just below the ear barely taking note of the blood that covered the blade.

Once his breathing settled, and his spent member slid from her body, he became aware of the wetness dripping on his left arm and looked over her shoulder. His gaze drawn to the gaping slash through her neck, down to the vertebrae, “Whooh,” he chuckled softly, “got a little carried away there huh?” he asked glancing at her sightless eyes, then chewed his lip.

“I should remember doing that.” A moment later he shrugged, “Meh,” then released her torso and slid off bending down to wipe his blood covered forearm in the grass before pulling the jumpsuit back up. “Almost done here, almost done.” He assured himself feeling more focused than he had just a few minutes ago.

With the return of his clarity, Randy knew he had to move quickly. His senses were back and he couldn’t shake the feeling that time was passing much too quickly.

The trek over the hill from where he’d parked and killed Diane hadn’t taken but a couple minutes, the problem was that when the memories took control he could lose track of time, so he had no idea just how long there was until the lunchtime fitness fanatics made their way down the path.

He worked quickly, crouched on the far side of the shrubs adjusting her skirt, her knees, and her hands just so, making sure the left one was flung out just enough through the underbrush to be seen relatively soon.

The message would be clear to those it was meant for, and just in case it wasn’t, he had a back up plan.

Hiking quickly up the hill, he fingered the edge of the latex glove, rolling it over his hand so it was inside out as he took it off, then did likewise with the other one binding the bodily fluids inside the layers.

Back inside the van he tossed the ball of rubber into a plastic grocery bag, his eyes falling on the manila envelope from the safe. He had no desire to open it, to see what it contained. It was in his possession and that’s all that mattered. The last possible piece of evidence that could pin Dave’s death on him was now in his hands and soon to be in the shredder. His chin dropped to his chest and he breathed relief before pulling out into traffic, heading for the Terrace Apartments, where Sam lived.

--

“Maintenance…” he called, knocking on her pristine white door, a fresh pair of gloves on his hands.

A glance up and down the hallway had him quickly tapping the lock to slip into the apartment.

With the door closed behind him, he stood taking in the sparse, but quality décor.
Not very cluttered, well organized. Nice.
He noticed, vaguely impressed for some reason.

Across the hall from the door, toward the left, was the living room, again with sparse furnishings, a couch, coffee table, desk, and a small cabinet for her TV and media. A textured crystal vase with twin shafts of silk orchids caught his eye. He stood before them peering down into the vase then reached into the zippered chest pocket of his jumpsuit.

He smiled at the three pale nubs in his palm then found the perfect place for one of them, at the base of one of the flowers near the top of the vase. He peeled away the backing from the dot of adhesive on the mic then stuck it firmly to the plastic and returned the other two to his pocket.

Smiling, he turned to the left and let his feet carry him into the bedroom.

It smelled like a woman’s bedroom, light clean fragrances mingled on the air. One by one he opened the dresser drawers in an effort to determine just how deeply she had the cop hooked. Wondering how quickly the man would be able to recover once she was stripped from his life.

Two drawers in the dresser for him,
he moved to the closet running his hand among her lacy, satiny sleepwear while noting,
about a third of the closet. I’m sorry man, it’s gonna hurt worse than I wanted it to. You’re in deeper than you should be. I’m sorry, but I promise, it’ll be better in the end.
He turned to leave the bedroom, careful to make sure everything was exactly as it’d been when he walked in. On the dresser he spied another photo of the couple, Sam wrapped into the detectives arms, both of them laughing at something the camera didn’t pick up.

“You’ll thank me, man, she’ll only hurt you in the end. It’s what they all do,” he nodded speaking softly to the photo, “It’s not like she can help it, though, it’s just, it’s in the blood.”

Through the wall behind the headboard, in the next apartment over, a door slammed open, startling him. The sound of a woman and man giggling brought him back to the task at hand.

Returning to the living room he carefully sifted through the desk and quickly found what he was looking for. He tucked the address book into a zippered pocket in the jumpsuit then hastily left the apartment, even taking the time to re-lock the deadbolt.

6

Pete’s hand slid absently under the open case file, the movement catching the watchful eye of his ever vigilant orange striped tabby, Major. The feline’s head snapped out of the nearly empty chop suey carton, a curled end of a bean sprout hanging from his mouth. He wiggled his rump and pounced on the moving papers just a second after his owner brought his cell up to his ear.