Read First Night of Summer Online
Authors: Landon Parham
“Do you like red?” he repeated.
She tried to answer, but her throat caught, and her face bulged with blood as she gagged.
“Oh, fine.” He slipped the knife between her cheek and the rope. “No one can hear you scream out here anyway.” After a harsh flick of his wrist, the rope popped loose. The back of the blade lacerated her cheek, and a bead of blood mixed with tears.
Lindsay sucked in. She inhaled one, two, and three deep breaths. She looked up, and despite the circumstances, was grateful for her captor’s mercy.
The man was on his knees, between her legs. He leaned over and used his arms to hover above her. “Now.” His voice was edgier this time. “Do … you … like … red? Hmmm?”
Instinct told her to answer and hope for the best. “Yes,” she whispered, relieved at the ability to breathe again.
Yes. She likes red
. And with that, he began and watched the anguish spread across her face. She had no choice but to suffer through the humility, the ultimate stripping away of decency.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“H
ey … Hey …” Lindsay heard the man calling and felt a stick whack her across the tummy.
“Would you like to play for me?” he asked.
He had removed a black case from under the bed and opened the latches. Inside was her elegant violin. He put it to his shoulder and pulled the bow across the strings. It hissed, and Lindsay turned to look. Her body was in bad shape, but her mind was far from broken. A strong mental fortitude had allowed her to master the instrument, harness its music like few others her age. She froze the wiry man in her glare without blinking.
“Well, that got your attention, didn’t it?” He was seated on a stool, bouncing up and down like he was playing a jig. With sweat-laced blood slathered across his naked body, he brought a jumble of screeches to a crescendo and bowed like a stage actor who’d just completed a masterful performance. “Thank you … Thank you.” Again, he swatted Lindsay with the bow, this time on a swollen foot. “That’s the last time you’ll ever hear music, baby. I can promise you that.”
Music had been such a joy in her life. Now it was used to mock and provoke. She didn’t care though. She just wanted to go home.
He put the violin back in its case and took a second to change his focus. Lindsay sensed a pivotal shift. The man straddled her and came to rest on her chest. One hundred and seventy pounds pressed down on her tiring lungs.
She looked directly into her captor’s eyes and silently begged for mercy. Life was a precious gift she hoped to keep. She didn’t want to die. She wanted to live and see her parents again.
This feeling of solitude and helplessness was not fun, and she pled, “Please.” It came out faintly more than a whisper. “Please don’t hurt me anymore.”
His knuckles made a smacking sound as they flew across her cheekbone. The contact broke the skin, and water filled her eyes. She shied away, but he hit the other side. There was nowhere to go. Her hands and feet felt like balloons from the cutoff circulation. She lost count of how many times he wailed on her, but then it stopped.
He pulled out the hunting knife. Its silver blade glowed in the yellow light. It slashed across her chest and made a laceration six inches long and an eighth of an inch wide. Her accelerated heart rate pumped more blood from the wound than it normally would have. Another slash seared from the menacing sickle. The man was mad now, unstoppable. Her skin turned to ribbons beneath the torture, and blood ran down her sides. Precious little energy was left, but she managed to scream one last time before passing out.
Chapter Twenty-Six
N
ot even a Pentecostal preacher’s wife would have suspected Ricky of anything other than being a well-groomed gentleman. He had cleaned himself up and behaved like a world-class citizen.
Lindsay remained unconscious, and he dressed while waiting for her to come around. It aggravated him that she wouldn’t wake up. The beating and cutting had exhilarated him, but none of it was worthwhile if she couldn’t open her eyes for the final picture. It gave so much more effect if he could coax his victims to look into the camera. He checked her weak pulse several times and made sure she was still breathing.
He was parked at the back of an abandoned rock quarry. When he had first arrived, a padlock was on the old but still effective gate. A set of bolt cutters solved the problem. Appearances were everything, and after pulling through and closing the gate, he put the rusty chain and padlock back to give the notion of security. Still, he didn’t think it would matter. The property had been out of commission for years and looked like it would stay that way for many more to come.
His chosen spot was so far into the bowels of the quarry that the entrance was way out of sight. Even if someone did come to prowl around, it would have been near impossible to find his van tucked into a tiny alcove under the black, country night. The surrounding walls were light gray and branched off into a myriad of sub-quarries. Not only was it the perfect place to do his dark deed, it could not have been better for body disposal.
He stepped outside, opened the back doors, wrapped a thick wad of Lindsay’s hair around his hand, and jerked. She didn’t twitch. The blood from her face had run onto her scalp and glued her hair into maroon clumps. One giant glob clung to his hand, and he shook it off.
A first aid kit hung on the wall just inside the back doors. Smelling salts were one of many useful items he kept there. He was resolute on taking the final picture of Lindsay with her eyes open. The hard packet popped and became saturated with pungent liquid, and he held it against the bottom of her nose. She immediately awoke with eyes wide.
He climbed back into the van and sat on the stool beside the bed. Worse than the smell of ammonia, urine and feces hit his sinuses. He looked at the bed between Lindsay’s legs and turned his face away in disgust. She had lost continence. A pile of brown mush was partially smeared on the sheets and on her inner thighs. Urine had pooled, and a large yellow stain was visible. The combination, mixed with the blood and smelling salts, was sickening. He knew it was his own fault, but that didn’t make cleaning the mess any more appealing.
No matter. I’ll make sure and get it in the picture … for effect
.
He worked his way to the foot of the bed and tried to breathe through his mouth, but the humid, Kentucky air held the scent closely. “Oh, you nasty, little bitch! You stink! Oh …” He continued to degrade her, wondering if she heard him. When he finally took the Polaroid camera from its place, he clapped his hands and then whistled. She moved her eyes in his direction, and he snapped the capture button. Again, he whistled and clicked.
She was barely cognizant, and he felt no remorse when he popped her over the head with a ball-peen hammer. Eerily, her eyes didn’t close.
Ricky cut her loose, drug her body out the back, along with the ropes, sheets, and clothes, and pulled her to the base of a rock wall. He couldn’t tolerate the smell any longer and soaked the pile of fabric and flesh with a whole bottle of lighter fluid. A match lit the heap, and he listened to the “woosh” of air as the fire consumed the surrounding oxygen and shot ten feet high. While she burned, the van doors closed, and he drove up a path to the top of the wall. Back outside, the smell of cooking flesh carried up in the rising heat. Soon, the flames died out, and all that remained was a smoking, black mound.
The location of her body was not random. Twenty feet above, next to where he stood, a massive hill of small stones awaited use. They ranged in size from pebbles to tennis balls. With a little coaxing by his shovel, they began to roll over the edge and bury everything below. Finally, a rockslide started, and several tons poured down at once, encasing Lindsay into a deep, stone tomb.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
C
ream-colored paint shone gray in the breaking daylight as Isaac peered up at the ceiling. There was no breeze outside to rustle the windows, nor did the air-conditioner blow through any vents. A rhythmic hum from the overhead fan made the only noise.
He continued to gaze through the semi-darkness, saying a silent prayer that today would go smoothly. The past few days, to his delight, had been closer to the way things were before. Josie was going full tilt with her friends and showed fewer signs of sadness every sunrise. Sarah, however, had made the biggest change. Since the arrival of the letter, she settled back into a more solid state of mind. Purpose and Josie’s future well-being abruptly became more important than the past.
He moved his legs from under the covers and searched the hardwood floor for his house shoes. When he found the warm, shearling-lined moccasins, he went to the window and opened the shutters. The room brightened as he observed a thick fog set over the forested landscape.
Sarah stirred in the bed. He loved every ounce of her body and mind. But something was lost between them, and it saddened him. Time, he hoped, would be the cure.
“Honey, it’s time to get up,” he said.
“Mmmm,” came a sound from the bed. “What are you doing?”
“Rise and shine.”
Sarah yawned. Her eyes were still shut. “What time is it?”
“Six forty-five. I’ll get Josie up.” Sarah was not a morning person and never would be. “Coffee will be ready in the kitchen.”
“Okay.” She rolled over.
“Honey, are you awake?”
She pulled the covers over her head in response, completely vanishing beneath the duvet.
“I mean it. I have work, and both of you have hair appointments.”
“Okay, okay, okay … I’m up. I’m up. I’ll be there in a minute.” She still didn’t budge, and the linens muffled her voice.
“Coffee,” he reminded as an incentive.
He silently strolled down the hallway, opened the door to Josie’s room, and found an empty bed. The covers were neatly pulled up, not a pillow disturbed. Neither he nor Sarah had the heart to change Caroline’s side of the bedroom. They felt like she belonged to them, still, in their house.
He sat beside Josie, his hip against her side, and stroked her hair. It was messy and beautiful. “Pumpkin, it’s time to get up.”
She stretched, needing only one call to wake. “Am I going with Mom today?” she asked through a yawn and squinty eyes.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I couldn’t remember.”
“It’s because you’re so busy playing with friends. Summers seem shorter than when I was a kid.”
She nodded. “I had good dreams.”
“What were they?”
“I dreamed of breakfast burritos.”
“Burritos?”
“Yeah. Can we have some?”
Isaac looked to the clock on the nightstand. It was six fifty. If she and Sarah were going to make their hair appointments in Las Cruces, they needed to leave in an hour or less.
“You are a strange little thing,” he said, referring to her dream, “but it’s your lucky day, kiddo. I have to fly, so I need a good breakfast, too. If you can get all the way ready first, that will give me time to cook. What do you think?”
Josie vigorously nodded. “Deal!”
“Okay then. Go get your mom out of bed. Chop, chop,” he teased and tickled her.
In the kitchen, he made coffee, thawed out some sausage, scrambled a few eggs, shredded cheese, and, to Josie’s liking, added green chilies. He also pan-seared potatoes. “Let’s eat!”
Josie dashed into the kitchen, all cute and dressed for town. “They’re ready?”
“Yes, ma’am. Breakfast burritos à la Josie.”
“Potatoes!” she said with great surprise.
Sarah also came into the kitchen and sipped her coffee. She still didn’t look very happy to be up so early in the summer. “What’s the occasion?”
Isaac pointed to Josie. She had an overstuffed tortilla in her small hands, slowly chewing a far-too-large bite for her mouth.
“I see.” It put a smile on her placid expression. “What time are you leaving?”
“Just after you guys.”
She nodded and sighed. “Be careful, will you?”
“I always am. Just another walk in the park.”
“You say that every time, but it’s still dangerous.”
“Nah, the ground crews do the sketchy stuff. I only spot the danger. Then the real workers get sent in. I’m the eye in the sky, watching, waiting, and watching some more. It’s slower than a jet, but at least I can take in the view.”
Sarah had heard it all a million times. She always thought the world would be a better place if everyone, like Isaac, was blessed enough to enjoy his or her job. “All right, Mr. ‘Eye in the Sky.’ Don’t eat too much fast food either.”
“I didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“I’m staying with Mom and Dad. Taos is my dispatch point. No fast food for me.”
Isaac used Ruidoso Municipal Airport for his personal base. He flew from there to wherever his patrol base was set to be. Depending on the scouting area, different towns in the New Mexico Rockies could be his home away from home. Any other town but Taos, and he had to stay in a hotel or hangar apartment and eat fast food. Of course, all of this was on the state’s dollar, but it was his least favorite part of the job.
“Good. Then I won’t have to feel bad about you eating crap every night.”
“Nope. You’ll just have to worry about Mom stuffing food down my throat.”
“True.”
When everyone finished, he hugged his girls at the door, watched as they walked across the lawn to the garage, and pulled away in Sarah’s navy blue Jeep Grand Cherokee.
Fifteen minutes later, the kitchen spic ‘n span, Isaac was halfway out the door when the telephone rang. He answered, thinking maybe Sarah had forgotten to tell him something.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Charlie.”
“Hey, man. What’s going on?”
“I wanted to catch you before you left.” He paused. “I think you should know. There’s been another abduction … in West Virginia.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I
saac sat at the kitchen table and listened as Charlie relayed the details. He wished he could have left without answering the phone, without a new burden pressing on his shoulders. To stay informed was the best way to protect Josie, but that didn’t make it easy. If the same man who killed Caroline did this new abduction, he wanted to know everything. No one else should have to endure what Bailey Davis must have gone through. But until the demon responsible left a large enough clue to be tracked down, more innocent little girls might go missing.