by Janet Durbin
Spangle nodded his head in understanding. “Hey, it gets to the best of us sometimes.” He shut the trunk and walked around the vehicle. He stopped next to the door and said, “Follow me,” and got in.
Nature crumpled the bag closed. She wasn't ready, not until she got to their destination. Westerly held her door open, then moved to his once she was settled in her seat.. They followed the police car north, toward Titusville.. A small airport with several small planes soaring above it was off to the left when the police car put on its turn signal.
Hidden in a group of trees was a quaint little house. It looked like it was built in the sixties. The walls were white, the trim a soft blue. Flowers bloomed in pots on either side of the porch. It looked cozy. Spangle pulled his car to the right of the dirt driveway, allowing the camper to pull straight in. All three got out and walked to the front door. Spangle knocked. No one answered. He tried the door. It opened. He knew it would be. While driving to the house, he had used his cell phone and instructed the family to leave before they arrived. He had also told them to leave the door unlocked. He stepped back, indicating for Nature to go in first.
She walked in. The smell of potpourri filled it, causing her to imagine a field of wildflowers. The house was spotless. She waited for Deputy Spangle to show her where to go.. He guided her to the back right corner of the house. The room was small. Posters of Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom covered the walls. The covers on the bed had pictures of The Lord of the Rings on it. It reminded her of a child's room, not a teenager's. She looked questioningly at the officer.
"She was mentally challenged. Her age may have been twenty, but her thought process was that of a seven year old."
She returned her attention to the room. She was glad the parents were gone. If the news was bad, she didn't want a repeat of Mrs.. Mosby's actions. She removed her gloves and put them in a pocket. Stepping to the bed, she sat down. Westerly had the bag. He opened it for her. She reached in and removed the toy. She held it close.
The girl washed through her. “Her mother called her Sunshine, even though her name was Alice, because her face lit up when she smiled.” Natured stretched out. She closed her eyes. She lost herself in the girl, lost herself to whatever happened the last day she was seen.
* * * *
Alice was up early. She liked to get up before anyone else; it allowed her to feel like a big girl. She delighted in watching the birds through the back door during the quiet time. Today, a blue jay sat on a branch, twisting its head all around. Alice imitated it, the smile her mother loved so much covering her face. She heard a noise behind her. She saw it was her mother.
"Sunshine, I have to go to the store. Want to come?"
"Nope. I want to watch the pretty birds.” She pointed out the window to the blue jay.
"I don't really want to leave you here alone."
"But Mo-o-o-m-m-m. Please? I'm a big girl now. You said so. I can take care of myself."
"Yes, you are a big girl now. If I leave you here, will you promise to stay in the house and not open the door to strangers?"
Alice nodded her head up and down rapidly. She returned her attention to the window, nose pushed up against the glass.
The mother smiled. She picked up her keys and purse. She would not be gone long. The store was right up the road. And, it was too early for anyone to stop by. She'd be home before then. As she moved toward the front door, she said, “Remember ... don't open the door to strangers."
Alice ignored her. Her whole attention was on the feathery creatures outside. Opening the door, mom locked it and shut it tight behind her. Almost immediately, the sound of the car was lost with the rest of the morning traffic. Sunshine stayed where she was. A matter of minutes later, a loud knock on the door caused her to look away. She walked toward the front and peeked out one of the side windows. A man stood there. She smiled. She opened the door. The man wasn't a stranger.
"Hi Alice, is your mom here?"
"Nope. She went to the store."
"Whatcha doing?"
"Looking at the birds, wanna see?” She grabbed the big hand and pulled the man to the back window. When she looked out, the birds were gone. “Ahhh, no more birds."
The man wasn't looking out the window, he was looking at Alice. “I know where they went. Want me to take you there?” He licked his lips.
"Yeah!"
This time, the man took Alice's hand and led her to his car. He drove to a wildlife park a few miles away. It wasn't visited much. He knew this. It was perfect. He drove down the winding dirt road to a secluded site. He got out. He opened the girl's door and led her deeper into the woods. She followed willingly. She wasn't afraid, this wasn't a stranger.
Alice's attention was focused upward. She was trying to see the birds she heard behind the many leaves. She didn't pay attention to where they were going. He stopped and looked up with her. He moved next to her. He reached out and wrapped an arm around her waist.
"This is a great spot, isn't it?"
"I don't see any birds.” She turned her body in all directions, trying to see everywhere at the same time.
"Maybe we should sit down. Maybe that will bring them out.” He sat down on a log. He patted his thigh, showing her where to sit.
She glanced up one more time before she sat down, pouting. “Stupid birds."
I have a worm we can show them. Want to see it?"
"Yeah. They like to eat worms.” She smiled.
The man got up and unbuckled his pants. He pulled them down. A large ugly thing that looked like a worm popped out. She gawked at it; it was huge. She had never seen a worm that big before. She thought it was strange that it was attached to his skin. It looked like it was growing out of his body.
"Wow."
The man smiled. “Have you ever tasted a worm Alice?"
She shook her head no, never taking her eyes off it.
"You can. You can make sure it is clean for the birds."
He guided her in front of him, making her kneel. He pulled her mouth to the worm. He grabbed her hair, tugging her head close to his body, then back. She gagged on the worm. It was too big. It went down her throat. It tasted nasty. She tried to pull away. He prevented it. He forced the nasty thing down her throat again and again. She started to cry.
Suddenly, he stopped and knelt in front of her. He hugged her close, soothing her. He kissed her face all over. His hands moved to her breasts. He squeezed them. She didn't understand. Why was he doing this? All she wanted to do was watch birds, not play with worms. He laid her on the ground. She felt her skirt hike up. She felt him reach into her underwear. She felt his fingers rub her. She grabbed his hand to make him stop. He continued. He no longer smiled.
She whimpered. He slapped her. She cried out. He slapped her again. He ripped her underwear off and threw them into the trees. He lay on top of her. He spread her legs. He moved the worm close to her pee-pee. He shoved it inside. She cried out in pain. He covered her mouth with his hand.
She had never felt pain like this. Tears ran from her eyes. She wished he would take his worm out. All he did was ram it in over and over. He grunted with each push. She hurt with each push. She wanted her mommy. She wanted the see the birds in her backyard. She did not want to see another worm again for the rest of her life.
In an instant, her world flipped over. She found herself face-first on the ground. The man put all his weight on her. She couldn't breathe. Every time she tried, dirt filled her mouth and nose. She felt her legs separate and his worm enter her pee-pee spot again. It hurt worse than before. She struggled. He was too heavy. He pressed on her head, keeping her toward the ground, preventing her from screaming. The grunting resumed. Breathing grew impossible to do. He didn't notice. He was lost in his thrusts. Her last thoughts were of her mother ... and the birds.
When the man finished, he realized Alice was dead. He didn't mean to kill her, it just happened. Scared, he dug a shallow pit and placed her body in it. He covered it with some leaves and twi
gs. He returned to his car and drove away. He never told the mother he had visited. He pretended to be shocked when told of the girl's disappearance. He convinced them. They never suspected him. He thought he was scot-free.
* * * *
Nature found herself lying on the floor when she came around. She did not know how or when she got there. She was curled into a tight ball. Tears streamed down her cheeks. The floor was wet with them. She had been crying for some time. She was hugging the chihuahua toy close to her body. She heard movement in the room. She opened her eyes.
Westerly was getting to his feet. He squatted beside her when he realized she was awake. “It's not good, is it?"
Nature sat up, wiping the moisture off with the back of her hand. Westerly reached out to help her, she shrugged him off. She did not want anyone to lay hands on her, not right now. The session was too fresh. She was too raw. He stood up, his face resuming a professional appearance instead of the concerned one it had a moment ago. Spangle remained by the door. His arms were crossed in front of him. He did not look happy.
"She's dead,” she said.
"Did you see who did it?” Spangles hands moved to his gun belt. He gripped either side of the buckle firmly, his knuckles turning white.
She bowed her head. She wished he had been a stranger. Someone the girl had not known. Someone she would not have opened the door for. Instead, the man was a family member. He wasn't the one they sought, the one who had killed Rew.
"It was her uncle."
The faces of both men darkened. One because of who it was, the other because of who it wasn't.
"You're sure?” Westerly asked.
"I saw him. I saw what he did to her. He took her to a nearby wildlife park. He tricked her and used her horribly. He didn't mean to kill her.” She paused to take in a deep breath. She exhaled it between pursed lips. “He buried her in the park."
"Can you take me to it?” Deputy Spangle straightened.
"Yes ... it's not far."
This time, the camper led the way. Westerly followed her directions to the dirt road. He drove to where she saw the uncle stop. Spangle stopped behind them. She got out but refused to enter the woods. She pointed to where the men needed to go.
"Down that trail. You'll see her underwear close to a pile of fresh leaves. She's there.” Nature moved to the back of the camper. She opened the door. Unable to look at the men, she added, “I'll be here when you return.” She closed the door behind her.
Hours later, after the forensic people had gone, after the news people interviewed whoever would talk to them, after Spangle had departed, Westerly opened the camper and got in. Nature was lying on the bench, curled under a blanket.
"We found her where you said. She's been taken to the morgue.” He sat on the edge of the bench. “Spangle told me they arrested the uncle. He confessed. He may not have been the man we were after, but at least he won't be able to hurt another girl again.
Nature listened. She heard his words, yet they did not help. What she needed was a scalding hot shower. She missed her home. She missed Sandy.. She missed Brad. She felt her resolve give. The tears flooded from her. She reached up, causing the blanket to fall away. She pressed her clenched fists into her eyes. Westerly glanced over his shoulder. He saw her tears. He felt his heart rend. Ignoring caution, he scooped her up into his arms and hugged her close.
He didn't try to kiss her, he only held her tight. She didn't resist. She clutched his shirt, pinching the skin underneath. He said nothing. She sobbed like she hadn't done in a long time, not since Brad's death. Finally, after she had no more tears to shed, she calmed.
"Can we go home now?"
"Yes. If Spangle needs more information, he knows how to get hold of us."
"Can we stop at a music store?"
"Of course, anything you want.” He brushed her hair away from her face. “We have to go by the motel before we hit the road. We left our stuff there."
Pulling away, she rose to her feet. She stepped into the open air, its gentle breeze caressing her skin.. Stretching her arms wide, she began to spin. Westerly leaned against the camper, arms folded, and watched. He saw her face relax. She had returned to herself once the spinning was complete. He opened her door and shut it after she sat. He got in and drove the camper toward the motel. He looked forward to going home. He missed Montana with its wide-open spaces. He missed his quiet life.
When they pulled into the Best Western, they were surprised to see a police car. Spangle got out after they parked. He came up to the driver's side. He leaned onto the window frame. They could tell by the look on his face, he was not in a good mood. They never expected what he said.
"The police from Cocoa Beach just reported a missing person. A family was at a real estate agency, looking for a house. Their eighteen-year-old daughter became bored so she went to the beach. Several eyewitnesses remembered seeing her a short while later with a man. They don't remember seeing her after that.
"How does that involve us?” Westerly questioned.
"They don't remember what the man looked like, but they do remember seeing a plain brown van drive away."
Three words in his statement made both occupants sit up promptly. They looked first at each other, then at the man leaning against the camper. Those three words, words said after a previous session, were ... plain brown van.
Chapter Seven
"Shit"
The man saw the sign over the highway. It was the sign used in Florida for amber alerts. It told people about someone missing. Right now, it told of a missing girl. It also told of a plain brown van. He knew it was talking about his van. He had been careless in his venture to get The One.
He had to get back to the cabin in a hurry so he could find out if she truly was the one he sought. Deep inside, he knew this girl was The One. He saw it in her eyes, or at least thought he had when they were last opened.. They remained closed. In his enthusiasm to get her, he had hit her head against an oil drum. She was still unconscious.
He was close to the state line. He hoped that once he crossed it, he would be okay, that he would not have to ditch the van. He liked it. It suited his purpose well. Twenty minutes later, he passed the Georgia state line. He relaxed a little, but not much. He still had a long way to go. He decided to take the other route home, the one he traveled on less frequently. It would take him longer, though he did not think the people on the lookout for him would find him as easily.
He merged onto Highway 16 before entering Savannah. The more time passed, the more miles he put away, the more he relaxed. The girl was his. He was not about to give her up. He was surprised that he had not wanted to sample her yet. She was sweet and she was young. Two qualities he liked in his women. He pulled into a rest area, before taking the detour, to restrain her and to remove her clothes. He did not want the synthetic material spoiling his pleasure. This time, he put a rag in her mouth before taping it shut. He hated the idea of taping her beautiful mouth, but it was necessary until he arrived at the cabin.
A state trooper drove past on the other side of the highway. He tensed. He watched it in the mirror. He maintained his speed. The car did not pull a sudden u-turn; it did not turn on its lights; it did nothing out of the ordinary. It kept going down the road, oblivious to his presence. He smiled. He started to think about home, about how he would gain untold pleasure from the girl, about how she was The One he had sought for so long. He glanced down at his lap. He saw he was hard. Making sure no one could see what he did; he pulled his penis out and began to stroke it. The more he stroked, the more he thought of the girl. The more he thought of the girl, the more he smiled. He continued to smile for many miles.
* * * *
Nature stood on the boardwalk, looking at the ocean beyond. Westerly was beside her. He did not touch her. He remained professional. She grabbed the railing with her gloved hands. She watched as a cruise ship made its way across the water. She wished she was on it, but knew she would not be able to take so many people, no
matter what size the ship was. Deputy Spangle walked up to her. He stopped a respectful distance away. He too would not touch her. Another man was with him.
"Mrs. Kranderson, this is Officer Myristate. He's with the local police department. He's the one who took the report."
The officer tipped his hat. “Ma'am."
Nature glanced at him. He looked like he should be still in high school with his boyish appearance. She nodded acknowledgement before returning her gaze to the water.
"How old was she?” she asked.
"Excuse me?” Myristate asked.
'How old was she?"
"Eighteen."
Nature closed her eyes. She wished the visions coming to her mind would disappear. The ideas of what that monster had planned for this girl were something that no child should ever have to endure. She faced the officers.
"Did the person who abducted her touch anything?"
"I'm not sure of all the places,” Myristate said. “But the witnesses do remember him touching some stuff."
"Can you show me all the places where he stood?"
"Right here for one."
Nature looked at the railing. Nothing but wood was visible. She saw Westerly stand back and took a deep sigh. She did not like it, but she was going to have to follow through. She removed her gloves and grabbed the rail. Feelings of happiness flowed through her, along with feelings of wonder, joy, love, and delight. Nothing resembled the feeling of the man here.
"Where else?"
"This way."
Myristate moved toward the parking lot. She followed. Westerly was behind her. Spangle brought up the rear. The officer stopped at an old rusted oil drum. It sat next to another one with trash in it.
"The witnesses said there was one trash bin here earlier. They noticed two after he left. They thought he must have worked with the sanitation department and didn't think much of it at the time."
Again, Nature inhaled deep. She released the breath before touching the drum. With her eyes closed, she gripped the rim and immediately felt a zing shoot through her body. She recognized it. She saw the man as he loaded it in his vehicle. He remained shrouded like the last time. She felt his lust. She felt his need to hunt. She felt sick. She let go with a shudder. Moving her hand around the drum, she tried to detect the girl. She found it half way down on one side. It was a small trace. She could see her smile, her lovely face, her innocence.
