“Okay…” Daniel responded in the middle of a sigh, “…there is no need to argue, and let’s remember to talk quietly here.” Nicole and I complied. He continued, seeming to be deep in thought, “We need another meeting between you and Cindy. We need to convince her that she is wrong.” Then I came up with another possibility, “Couldn’t we just tip off the police about Reid and also indicate where the body of the girl he killed was located? Then that would close the case!”
The idea sounded appealing except for the fact that Daniel had taken the evidence from his house before we did him in. I pleaded, “Then why not drive over there and put something back to show he’s guilty? It’s only been a few days he’s been dead and maybe nobody has noticed he’s gone yet.” Daniel countered that if anyone suspected foul play then any strange car in the area would be noticed right off. He suggested we call his number first to see if anyone might be there.
Being obsessed with carefulness we finished our meal and stopped at a gas station to make a call. Daniel dialed the number—the plan being that we would call at least five or six times and if nobody answered we could drive by and check things out, and then consider leaving the trophies there. Daniel called, started talking with someone and then excused himself and hung up. He said some guy answered, Reid’s brother, and he told him that he was not there but asked Daniel to leave a message. Daniel said he’d call back later instead.
Daniel looked frustrated and said that option was dead. Nicole became nervous and said we should get out of there right away in case someone has traced the call. She even cleaned off the phone just to make sure no prints were left. She nervously warned, “We can’t take any chances of being connected to Reid since we could wind up being blamed for the victims he killed. We have to find another solution.”
Nicole said she was confident we could convince Cindy there was nothing to her worries, “I will tell her that I have been working on an essay and Mark was helping me do it.” That sounded like it could work. After a moment of silence Daniel asked, “Melanie, could you convince her to meet us on Friday afternoon so we can clear this up?” I said I thought it would be no problem, but asked where would be best. He suggested, “It can’t be in school or really any place with lots of people, why not over by the playground near the bike trail? You know, the one about a mile from the school? That isn’t far away from Cindy’s home, and while it’s in an open place, it gives us privacy.” I agreed I would try to get her there to meet with us.
The next day I approached Cindy and asked if I could meet with her away from everyone. I told her I had to eat dinner at 5pm so I could see her just after school if that would be okay. I faked a tear so she would feel sad and concerned—she did seem the emotional type—and I made sure to ask her not to tell anyone what we were doing, as I felt like I was having an emotional crisis I did not want anyone to know about. She agreed to keep it between us so I thanked her and said I’d see her Friday afternoon.
When I met up with Nicole and Daniel later I asked if we should say anything to Mark. Both of them thought it would be better to solve everything first without causing him stress. For a moment I thought about how ridiculous it was to believe we had anything to worry about but then I came back to the realization that we had to do something and this seemed easy enough.
When we arrived at the park I remember that it was sprinkling rain—and nobody was around. We only had to wait a moment and then I saw someone approach with an umbrella, it was Cindy. Daniel suggested that he should go talk with her first, which I thought was a bit odd, but if that is what he wanted to do then so be it.
Daniel was too far away for me to make out what was being said but then Nicole asked me a strange question, “Do you want to be worried for the rest of your life?” I wondered for a second what she meant and then, “No way! You aren’t proposing that we...not Cindy!” It freaked me out that I had not seen this coming, was I stupid or naïve? I mean the idea had entered my mind on several occasions but I thought it too drastic at this point. Nicole just looked at me.
Suddenly, Cindy started approaching the car—in a moment I could see Daniel had Nicole’s gun on her. Nicole got out and they handcuffed her and put her into the car with me in the front, her in the back with Nicole. While it was apparent she was frightened, she remained calm and asked what was going on, but then Nicole taped her mouth with electrical tape. Strangely enough, she then asked her if she could breathe okay. She nodded that she could and Nicole asked Daniel to drive away quick.
Cindy then had a terrified, bewildered look—if the word “why” had an emotional appearance her face would have showed it. I was still looking back and our eyes met, and for a moment I think we connected on a deeper level—this was odd as I could only remember this happening twice before, and only in the past couple of months, once for my “initiation” and the next with Mark. For a split second I felt what I believed was empathy, not just pity or sorrow…I could momentarily feel her fear. And to compound this uncomfortable state of mind I realized she had come here to protect me.
At this point I lashed out at Nicole and Daniel because I felt betrayed that they had not informed me of what their intentions were. I asked if this was absolutely necessary—I mean, had Daniel been too stupid to come up with a story to put Cindy’s mind at ease? I also wanted to know why I had been left in the dark! Nicole then asked if I would have been able to be as convincing if I had known. I looked away from them, the anger burning inside of me and felt I was becoming my true self again—expressionless, calculating and cold.
Nicole placed her hand on my shoulder and told me it had to be this way. I knew she was right and at that moment the empathy was gone. So maybe I was truly a psychopath, but maybe now I knew it was the ultimate defense mechanism. If you have no feelings, you can’t be hurt or overcome with guilt or remorse—empathy was indeed a weakness.
I asked Nicole and Daniel what they planned to do with Cindy, to which Nicole leaned closer and whispered to me to not talk right now, but that I’d see soon. We drove on and then I recognized the route we were taking—we were heading towards the area where the dead girl was at. By now I tried to apologize to Nicole. She said she understood and for the rest of the journey the only sounds in the car were Cindy’s crying and forced breathing as well as the windshield wipers going back and forth. I did my best to avoid looking at her.
By the time we arrived on the road we had been biking on it was dark, really dark, with thick rain clouds covering the sky. We approached a spot near to where the killing took place and parked. Daniel got out of the car and pulled Cindy out. She started screaming through the tape, probably realizing this was not going to turn out well.
We had flashlights but dimmed them just in case there might be someone in the area. After walking a minute on an animal trail Daniel motioned for us to stop in a small clearing. That’s when it all became clear.
Nicole took my hands and explained that the only way out of this was to re-create one of Reid’s murders. Mark was out of town visiting his kids until Saturday evening so if we called the police the next day to report finding Cindy’s body he would be totally in the clear…and so would we as nobody had ant reason to connect her to us. The hard part was realizing everything had to fit the murder scene as we had witnessed. I then walked over to Cindy and tried to re-assure her the best I could. Why I did this I do not know—maybe to allow her last few moments not to be in such a terrified state. Perhaps hoping a different outcome might materialize.
Nicole removed Cindy’s clothing, using a knife to rip her blouse off since she was handcuffed. Nicole held the gun on her as Daniel then removed the handcuffs, had her lie on her back and then used rope to tie her hands so they were outstretched between two trees. I noticed she was in a crucifix-style position. I knew what Reid had done while I was in his car. The descriptions had not been pleasant to hear, even for me, yet what really consumed my thoughts was what this was going to be like.
I then asked if it had to be exactly as
Reid had done—I knew the answer to that, not only what they would say but also what I knew had to be the case. I then asked if she had to be alive through it all. I begged, “I know it has to be this way, but do we have to make her suffer so much? I mean, I won’t stop you but I can’t participate in her torture.” Nicole grabbed Daniel and looked at him before saying, “Okay, maybe there is something we can do. The body reacts quickly just after death has occurred. However, we would have a few minutes so I don’t see why we couldn’t be merciful.” At that point I asked, “Should I do it?” to which Nicole seemed surprised but then took my hand and asked if I was up to it. I said it would probably be for the best if I did it. I was willing to end her life, if it meant protecting Mark and the rest of us.
Did I want to kill someone who wanted to be my friend? No, actually I did not, but there was no turning back. And at least I knew what to do so as to be quick and not inflict too much suffering.
There would be no blood stains to worry about so I merely removed my coat and handed it to Nicole. Daniel had turned on a portable lantern which caste an eerie glow around the scene. I knelt down beside her and caressed her face and combed her hair back. I could see her chest moving as she breathed and it appeared she was becoming less stressed. Her breathing was less frantic and her crying became more like a child once they realize it’s time to calm down and get hold of themselves (kind of a broken sniffling). Maybe she was thinking this was actually going to be some horrible, sick prank or something. Maybe she thought she would survive this ordeal since it must have been incomprehensible to her that her beloved students would do her any harm. It didn’t matter though. As I knelt there I noticed in the dimmed light that she was quite beautiful. It was the first time I really took notice that her outer beauty really did match her inner beauty. Without her glasses and conservative attire here she was, vulnerable…her life in my hands. I decided it was now the time.
I laid down beside her and propped myself up with my left elbow. I didn’t take notice of the wet, mossy ground underneath me. I assured her she was my friend and I told her to look towards the light and that soon she would be with the ones she had not seen in years. She looked at me in a questioning manner, I was used to that look by now, and then I kissed her cheek and embraced her. I realized this must have been a confusing moment for Cindy but after holding her a brief moment I leaned up and quickly clasped my hand over her nose to cut off her air supply.
For what seemed like an eternity she struggled, mostly using her legs to try to in some way throw me off her. Her muffled screams were now intense. I remember her causing me to lose my grip a couple of times, allowing her to take in the precious air we take for granted—unless it is cut off, but this only prolonged her ordeal, and its inevitable outcome.
Finally, I was able to maintain the grip, and what was an exercise of desperation for her slowed to what was… perhaps, her showing she still wanted to live, maybe hoping for a last minute reprieve from those who had brought her to this place. Her muffled screams ended, but they were replaced with a desperate whimpering that reminded me of the pleading of a sad puppy. Then, realizing the futility of struggle, for only a brief moment, she stopped fighting, went silent, and just looked at me. I knew that I held her life literally in my hands, as did she, but by now she must have realized the struggle was in vain, and it would soon be over. She then relaxed, and seemed to be close to passing out, and then...one last convulsion—which gave way to what seemed like the contractions or jolts you sometimes experience prior to sleep...then nothing.
I was not sure how long it would take before her autonomic nervous system would shut down so I maintained my position for what must have been a couple of minutes. Then I became aware of the outside world again as Nicole placed her hand on my arm and motioned for me to get up. Nicole held me a moment but I stood motionless, staring down at Cindy’s body and just thinking about what had just happened—it was quiet except for the sound of water hitting dried leaves. My heart was pounding and I just wanted to be alone to pull everything together in my mind.
I loosened Nicole’s hold on me but did not remove my gaze off Cindy—it was surreal, before my eyes she laid devoid of life, no longer the cheerful teacher who sought to help students like myself—just so much flesh and bone on a carpet of mud and moss. It was raining harder now, a very cold rain, and you could see the steam coming from her body while the drops fell on her, splashing the soil from off her skin. Her eyes were open and appeared to be looking off in the distance. The raindrops fell on them and it looked as if she were crying. I thought to myself that she looked like an artistic work—a scene that a creative photographer could use for a classy, yet edgy, photo exhibit, yet that would only work with a live model playing dead, not with a real dead woman.
Daniel muttered that he had to work fast so he untied the ropes while Nicole brought over the tools to complete the act. It was now time to destroy the work of art—her body as well as the rather intriguing photographic possibility. Nicole asked if I wanted to go back with her to the car, but despite my connections with Cindy, I was curious as to what was going to take place. So I said I would not take part but would observe.
Daniel, with some help from Nicole, made absolutely sure no blood stains would exist. While not going into too much detail about what would take place, I have to say they were thorough. They went about doing the same breaks, mutilation of the body, even the rape (although it was not something that required any bodily fluids as it involved instruments, not any human contact), the nail and then the taking of the finger. After Daniel placed it in a plastic sandwich bag he and Nicole hauled the body over to the hillside and threw it over—it came to rest in what appeared to be a patch of blackberry bushes. It was odd that it sank into the old vines and was essentially swallowed up—if you didn’t know what you were looking for, you would not notice anything out of the ordinary.
On the way back to town I asked Nicole if I could stay over. While she generally preferred to stay with me, rather than be home, she said she’d welcome me—as soon as I changed out of the clothes I was in. At that I laughed, almost uncontrollably, and Nicole joined in. I was not sure Daniel found the comment amusing.
Now would come the awkward part—we had to inform Mark. We knew he would be upset that we had brought our activities so close to ourselves, unlike all the rest—strangers for the most part. Here we had connections—no matter what, once she did not turn up at some obligation, the police would be contacted, whether we called them or not. We also thought he might not be pleased with the reason we had to kill her—to protect him. He would just have to understand.
Nicole suggested a visit to the springs might be a good idea—beyond just being relaxing, it would be good to have an alibi just in case something did go wrong with our planning. It seemed that springs were becoming part of our ritual, which made it all seem more mystic rather than just a restful activity. So after Daniel was satisfied with checking the area for any evidence of what had happened we all jumped into the car and left.
We planned to relax for a couple of hours with some naked hippies—and sure enough, there were some there. And yes, it was indeed mystic as they had brought candles that, despite the rain, stayed lit under some old, fallen tree branches. Soon the two hours passed, then more. When Daniel excused himself to go use the bathroom, Nicole moved close and softly said she was proud of me. She didn’t go into detail, she didn’t have to, and she would not want anyone hearing anything. I looked at her, her face illuminated by the light reflecting off the water which caused a sort of dancing effect, and for a brief moment she looked like some fairy princess, which only intensified the mystic effect. I then noticed tears from her eyes as she smiled, looked down for a moment, and then rushed to return to the spot she had previously been sitting just before Daniel returned.
We stayed until we started seeing the hints of daybreak. There had been several groups of hippies and some college student types join us and then leave. If anything was ever investi
gated we had plenty of people who would say we were there all night. Nobody would remember when we arrived or left though, which was all the better.
Soon after leaving, we stopped at an all night restaurant and watched the sun rise. We then decided to head home, but once we got into the Portland area around 9am Daniel’s phone rang, it was Mark! His oldest child had developed strep throat so he cut his time with the kids short. When they were talking Daniel pulled onto an exit and stopped the car. We could hear him speaking to Mark. He got out of the car and seemed to be in an intense conversation—we thought he must have told him.
We were right, and apparently Mark had hit the roof. Needless to say there was going to be a change of plans so Daniel suggested we all get changed, try to get a little nap, and wait for Mark to return home, which would take him several hours.
It was a moment of high anxiety when, around noon, we pulled into Mark’s driveway. We all went in and there was Mark, not angry as we expected, but just looking out the window. He greeted us in an uncharacteristic monotone and I went over to him and said, “Hey, it’ll be all right.” and smiled so he could feel re-assured. He looked at me in a strange, almost defeated, manner and said he didn’t know if it would be. He was different than I had ever seen him, everything about him, his looks, his voice, everything could only be described as melancholy—a state far more sad than mere depression. I had a really odd feeling…almost an anxiety stemming from feelings for him. I wanted to be able to bring him happiness but all I could do was sit down next to him and try to find the right words. This was so frustrating, I was gifted in being able to express myself but here, where it could really matter, where maybe I could take advantage of the situation and break through his shield to realize that our paths could be together, forever; why couldn’t I say the right thing when it counted?
Then Mark looked at me with what were sad eyes, and took my hand. I thought then, perhaps, the connection would be realized! Yes, I could feel his pain and maybe even his guilt…I also let go, almost, I say almost, crying but straining to fight the urge back. He then said, “Melanie, what have I done to you? I’m sorry, really I am.”
Melanie's Journey Page 25
