by Tyler Porter
I put my finger on the trigger and pulled back slightly, but then I released. No. I knew that I was better than him. He had ignored me, but I was going to make sure that he couldn’t ignore me anymore. I worked my way back downstairs and went back to my truck. In the passenger seat, I got into the backpack I always had with me. In the front pouch, I pulled out a rag and a bottle of chloroform. I walked back into the town house and went back upstairs. Her eyes jumped wildly as I placed it over her nose and mouth. She didn’t even have time to scream before she faded. Not a sound.
I carried her carefully down the stairs and to the kitchen by the door. On the table was a keyring with a dodge key fob attached to it. I grabbed the keys and walked out the front door with her on my shoulder. I quickly popped the trunk on the dart and dropped her into it. I jumped in the driver seat, backed out and started toward home. My truck would be fine for the time being. I cruised down the road with the radio on low and I intermittently thought about her as I drove.
She really was beautiful. A lot younger than him and he definitely didn’t have any money or rich parents. What the hell was she doing with him? She was petite but curvy and I couldn’t stop myself from imagining what it would be like to slide my knife into her. I couldn’t wait. I wanted to hear her scream for him, having full confidence that he could do anything to save her, only to be let down. I pulled the dodge onto the property and stopped in front of the shed at the back of the property. It wasn’t big, but it was big enough and it was empty. I opened the double doors and drove the compact sedan into it.
The darkness on my property provided plenty of cover from any passing cars, and I walked her inside. I chained her up to the steel post and climbed back up the stairs. It had been a very long day and I knew how chloroform worked. It would be six or seven hours before she would stir. I hit the mattress and thought about what the following days would hold for me. This game was heating up and I couldn’t wait to make my next move. As I tried to fall asleep, an idea came that would get things moving a little quicker. I stood and ran to my office—pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen and went to work.
Chapter 7: Starting Over
I woke up early, knowing immediately that the Champaign was the culprit for my inability to sleep in, but it appeared as though Shelby had woken up even earlier, because she was not in the bed. I thought maybe she’d gotten up early to make me breakfast, she sometimes did that after a long night of fucking, like a reward for a job well done.
I rubbed my eyes and arched my back, stretching to the point of feeling like I might snap my spine if I didn’t stop. I spun to the right and put my feet on the floor. I rolled my shoulders before forcing myself up and into the bathroom. I brushed my teeth quickly and splashed some water on my face to help wake me up although I knew the only thing that could accomplish that was black coffee.
I pulled on my jeans from the day before since they were already laying there on the floor and headed downstairs to the kitchen. I did not hear crackling bacon nor did I smell pancakes. Maybe I hadn’t performed as well as I’d thought. I walked into the kitchen to find no breakfast, no coffee in the pot, and no Shelby. I peered out the window and her car was gone. At first I was confused. She was a low-level accountant at a big firm and it was Saturday. She didn’t have a high enough position to be called in for any accounting emergency. Maybe it was something with her family. But in the back of my head I already knew what had happened.
I figured I probably wouldn’t see her again. It had finally happened. She had gotten bored with me. I was too old, too sore, and too broke for her. Even if we did have kids at some point I’d be seventy before they were grown, and I wasn’t so unrealistic as to believe I would make it that long with my eating and drinking habits. She had spent one last night with me to help me celebrate my retirement and now she was gone. I started the pot of coffee and sat down on the couch while I waited.
I paced around the apartment as I drained the pot of coffee one cup at a time. I thought about what I would do now that I had no job and no one to share my retirement with. I thought about the things I would like to do before my life was over. One thing I had always wanted to do, but had never taken the steps to do, was buy a house of my own. I had always rented, but I had wanted a place of my own to maintain. I’d always said that if I ever bought a place, I would buy a place in Boulder, Montana, about thirty miles from Helena—close enough to the city to visit any time I wanted but far enough away to escape the hustle and bustle of the city.
No noise, no traffic, and much less crime.
The small town was home to a total population of just over 1,800 and there were rolling hills on either side on the outskirts of the town. I had driven passed the area several times, more so in recent years and I had spotted the perfectly little place right on the edge of town. I could help but notice the for-sale sign in the front yard. That was only a month or so ago, maybe it was a sign from above. I finished my cup of coffee, jumped in the Jeep and backed up. As I pulled forward to exit the lot, I noticed the beat-up, red, rusty pick-up truck parked across the street.
Was it the same one? The same one that I had seen following behind me the day before? It was possible. I pulled out of the lot and drove slowly passed in. It was empty. There was no one inside and nothing really in the cab other than a black backpack. Nothing that caused any sort of alarm. I decided it was nothing and continued on with my plan for the day. House hunting in Boulder. It wasn’t a long drive and it went noticeably faster today. Maybe because I didn’t have anywhere that I absolutely had to be. I wasn’t speeding or passing anyone. I was just Sunday-driving on a Saturday, taking my time to get where I was going.
I pulled up in front of the small house on the edge of Boulder. It was perfect. A small white ranch style home, with a wrap-around porch covering three sides. The property spanned eight acres and near the back of the acreage sat a horse stable with room for up to three horses. I had always loved horses. Maybe I would raise a couple. To my delight, there was still a for-sale-by-owner sign set in the front yard. I parked the Jeep and walked up to the front door. I rang the doorbell and waited. For several moments I heard nothing. Maybe no one was around. I peered through the window, and a shadow moved from the dining room quickly into the hallway.
I rang the bell again and knocked three times on the wooden door. At last, I heard footsteps coming near the door from inside the home. The door opened just a crack and it was only enough for me to see one eye of the woman peering out. The eye was wild and looked around me as if looking to see who else was behind me.
“Can I help you, Lieutenant?” Now I was the one who was nervous. I did not know this woman; I was sure of it. How did she know I was a detective?
“I’m sorry ma’am, but have we met before?” I asked.
“No. We haven’t.”
“I didn’t think so...if I might ask, how did you know I was a detective?” The small woman had not opened the door any further and seemed to be growing more nervous with every passing second.
“I have seen you on television…press conferences and such. I watch the news a lot.” Something about her answer didn’t feel right.
“Oh, alright….”
“Has something happened?” She broke me back into the conversation.
“Uh, no, no nothing at all. I just saw the for-sale sign in the yard and I was hoping to get some more information.”
“Asking $80,000 for it. Looking to get out as soon as possible.”
“I think I can live with that. Could I see the rest of the home?”
After a moment of hesitation, she reluctantly opened the door and let me step in side. It was a great little house. To the right the walk-in opened up into a dining room area that overlooked the front yard and driveway. To the left was a small living room with a fireplace in the corner. The entire ground floor had gorgeous, dark hardwood flooring and grey walls. The grey accented the rest of the déco
r without being too dark and there was plenty of natural light. The kitchen had dark wooden cabinets and stainless appliances that the woman informed me would come with the house.
It was a two-bedroom, one bathroom. The master was plenty big with a small, walk-in closet and the guest room was spacious enough for a bed or a home office. From there, she showed me the basement. It was not finished but wasn’t exactly a cellar either. It would be perfect for storage as there wasn’t a garage on the property. She walked me out to the stables and explained that her and her husband had raised horses for a while, but after he passed away from pancreatic cancer, she hadn’t been able to keep up with it.
The entire time we walked and talked I was studying her. The way she moved, the way she talked, even the way she kept rubbing her hands together. She was very nervous. It could have been that she wasn’t used to having strangers in the house, but I had a feeling that it had something to do with me. She knew who I was, and for some reason, my presence was making her uneasy. Setting her strange behavior aside, the house was perfect and the price was more than fair. As I went to leave the house, I stopped at the front door, turned back toward her and spoke.
“I’ll take it.”
Closing on the house happened the very next week. This wasn’t typical, but it was a small town with very few house sales. The bank and title company were just happy to have some work to do. Two weeks after my strange first visit to the house, I was unpacking my boxes into it. I had done it. I’d purchased my very own home and it was perfect. I spent every morning the same way. I would wake up somewhere around 6:00am and I would spend the first hour of my day sitting on the porch, drinking my coffee and watching the sun rise. I hadn’t expected to enjoy my retirement so much, but I really did. I had been spending a lot of time doing research on horses and had narrowed down where I might purchase one.
In the weeks that had passed since the last time I’d seen Shelby; I hadn’t heard from her at all. I had even called a couple times and sent a few text messages, but I had not received any response. This had only further confirmed what I already thought. She was done with me. She’d probably blocked my number and gotten herself a brand-new stud by now. I sipped my coffee until the pot was empty, and decided to go into town.
I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but one thing I loved about Boulder was that the town was made up of two gas stations, one small grocery store, a couple diners and several bars. I was most excited about the bar part. I had already picked out my favorite, Vern’s Tavern. It was right on main street. I parked out front and walked in. It was early in the day, and the place was empty aside from the bartender/owner Vern.
I had already come to know him pretty well and we were on a first name basis almost immediately. He was in his mid-seventies, but would never admit it. He was a tall, lean man with a rough face until he started telling jokes. He owned the bar and was one of three people that worked in it. He always open carried a Beretta 9mm on his side and his Vietnam Veteran baseball cap covered in military pins.
“Afternoon Vern, how we doin today?” I said to him.
He looked down at his watch and then back up at me lowering his brow. “Afternoon? It’s just after eleven in the morning, it’s not afternoon.”
“My mistake.” I laughed. I was trying to feel better about the fact that I was about to start drinking before noon on a Thursday, but Vern ruined that. “What’s the special?”
“The special is, I got Bud Light and if you don’t like it you can take your patty-cake ass back to wherever the hell you came from.” He started chuckling after saying patty-cake.
I laughed quietly along with him. “In that case my patty-cake ass would just love a Bud Light.”
He poured my beer into a pint glass and slid it from his side of the bar to mine. I gulped down half of it right away. The old familiar bite hit my throat and I closed my eyes as the golden nectar rolled down my throat chilling my entire sternum. He grabbed a glass he had been cleaning and began to dry it as he stood across from me.
“So, what’s on the agenda today?” he asked.
“Well, I figured on having me a couple of beers, running down to the store to pick up a frozen pizza, then heading back to the house to figure out where I should buy a horse from.”
“Sounds like a big day,” he replied sarcastically.
“Oh it is, very big day for me,” I played along.
“I’ll tell you, if you’re looking for a quality foal, you oughta run down to Clarkson’s farm. Its only about a five-mile drive, and he raises some fine horses out there.”
“Clarkson…” I thought for a moment trying to remember if that place had come up during my search. “I don’t think I’ve heard of that place. I’ll have to check it out. Sure would beat the hell out of driving hours on end.”
I sat and chatted with Vern as I drained a few more beers before paying my bill. As I left Vern’s, I took a left and walked a block down to the grocery store. I had settled into a routine since moving in. I generally had a few beers at Vern’s, then stopped at the store to buy whatever sounded good for dinner before heading home. I walked in and waved to Sharon, the cashier who was always working during the week.
“Frozen pizza or rotisserie chicken tonight Detective?” she asked as she waved back.
“Seeming like a pizza night, thanks for asking.”
“I thought it might be! You know where to find them.”
I certainly did know where to find them. They were all the way to the back of the store in the frozen food section. They only had one selection, which was fine with me. I was simple, and the less choices I needed to make the better. I walked down the cereal aisle as I made my way to the back of the store and passed a man in a black hoodie that was pulled up over his head. He was subtly looking from side to side down the aisle. My eyes met his and I nodded as I walked by. My gut formed a knot and I felt something was off.
I picked up my pizza and walked back up to the front of the store to discover that my feeling was spot on. The man in the black hoodie was speaking in a hushed tone to Sharon who had a terrified look on her face. She was shaking her head and whispering back to the man. Whatever she said must have upset him, because he slammed his fist down on the counter making her jump. I quietly approached the counter behind the man and I could start to make out the conversation. I could also see the small stack of bills that sat on the counter, and the open cash register drawer next to Sharon.
Chapter 8: P.S.
“I swear that is all there is,” she whispered to the man.
“That’s fucking bull shit! I know there is more than this, now go fetch it or I swear I will gut you right here you old bitch,” the man said back.
I could see now that he was holding a medium-sized folding knife in his hand. I moved a little closer and caught Sharon’s attention. She looked at me, the fear exploding from her eyes. The man in the black hoodie noticed that her gaze had wandered and he turned his head to the left spotting me. He quickly turned, holding the knife I front of him pointed at me. He was young, maybe twenty and had long black hair. His beard was patchy and it was clear from the sight of him that he had not done this sort of thing very many times before, if ever.
“Get fucking moving big man. Now!” he yelled at me waving the knife as if I hadn’t noticed it in his hand.
“I don’t know exactly what is going on here kid, but it looks to me like the lady gave you what she has in the drawer. Let that be enough and just go.” I could see the anger and nerves moving inside him.
He was shuffling his wait from one foot to the other. “I said get the fuck out! You want to be a hero? I’ll carve you too!”
“I know you’re scared,” I said keeping my voice calm and steady. “And you haven’t done anything yet that can’t be made right. Don’t make a bad call here. Just put the knife down.”
He looked side to side rapidly, contemplating hi
s options and the words I had just said. I had a lot of experience in these situations and I could see that he was heading toward the wrong choice.
“Don’t do it,” I said, but it was too late.
He had already decided, but unfortunately for him, I could see that decision before he had even made it.
He took the first step forward with his left foot, pulling the knife back getting ready to plunge it into my torso, but as he stepped again with his right foot, I jutted my right foot into his left knee like a spear. As he had stepped, all of his weight had been put on his left leg, and pressure on his knee from the kick forced it to give out. He yelped and flew forward as I side-stepped out of the way. He landed hard and the ground, the knife sliding out of his grasp. He crawled quickly to retrieve it and bounced back to his feet.
“I’ll kill you, you motherfucker!” he screamed as he charged at me again.
He stabbed the knife in the direction of my stomach, but I shifted again and caught him by the wrist of the hand that was holding the knife. I twisted his wrist backward resulting in a horrendous scream. I continued to twist until I started to feel bones cracking and he dropped the knife. Then, I twisted it the opposite way causing his to bend forward, pressed behind his twisted arm forcing him into the aisle way, stood him back up by pulling his head up by his hair and swept his legs with my left foot. He crashed onto the ground, his head smacking the ceramic tile. He was not unconscious, but he wasn’t going to be a problem any longer.
I kicked the knife further away to be safe and waited for the police to arrive as I’d faintly heard Sharon call them during the struggle. They showed up a few minutes later and took my statement on what exactly had happened. They filled me in on the kid, and let me know he had been a trouble make in town throughout his entire youth. He had never tried anything this serious, but it wasn’t a surprise to them. They gave me more details than they normally would once they discovered who I was and the career I had come from. They thanked us before leading him to the police cruiser and Sharon thanked me as I paid for my pizza. She wanted to give it to me for free, but I insisted on paying for it.
