Steamy Dorm

by Kristine Robinson

  “It’s ok,” I reassured her. “We will find out who did this.”

  “How could I have been so stupid? I just went with some guy I don’t know at all.”

  “People can be deceptive. You are a good person who just trusted the wrong guy,” I replied. “This is not your fault.”

  “I can’t even tell you who did it. All I have is a voice and a name, which is also fake.”

  Lydia began to sob harder.

  I reached down and lifted her chin towards me. “It is going to be ok,” I said. “I’m here and I promise that I will find out who did this and make them pay.”

  I brushed the tears away from her beautiful eyes and she smiled at me sweetly. I smiled back.

  It was a tender moment and I suddenly felt like I did when I was seventeen and I had kissed her for the first time.

  CHAPTER 3

  That was it!

  I was sure that was the car I was looking for. I’d been driving around town searching for any truck that matched the description I had from our forensic guy, Chuck. After examining the tire marks found at the scene and taking some mud samples he said it was a 2005 Dodge Ram. Lydia said she was pretty sure the truck was silver in color. She remembered because she could make out that it was shiny and had a certain gleam about it. Silver was actually her favorite color. Other than that she was not sure what make it was, but the forensic evidence did not lie.

  It was located at a car dealership called Lyle's Used Auto. I had driven past the place a few times, but I'd never stopped there. I had heard that Lyle sold people lemons. Of course, that could have been said for practically every used car salesman I'd ever met.

  The car was not on the lot, though; it was parked in the employee spaces on the side of the office.

  I stopped and went inside.

  I was instantly greeted by a middle-aged man and a younger guy about twenty. The two looked a lot alike so I instantly came to the conclusion that they were most likely father and son.

  "Hello, officer. Welcome to Lyles' Used Auto," the middle-aged man said shaking my hand. "I'm Lyle; this is my son Darryl. How can we help you today? Are you looking to trade in the police cruiser for a nice Monte Carlo?"

  Lyle laughed way too hard at his own joke. Everything he said was with that smarmy used car salesman voice as if he was incapable of speaking normally.

  “No, Lyle. I’m here on official business, actually,” I said.

  Lyle seemed confused. “Oh?”

  "Yea, who drives that silver Dodge Ram parked on the side?" I asked.

  “It belongs to my son here,” Lyle said.

  Darryl stood up then, a look of concern spreading on his face. “What about it? What’s going on?”

  I had to laugh at his fake innocent act. The kid was a good salesman, but I wasn’t falling for it.

  “What’s up is I want to know where you were last night at ten o’clock.”

  “I was home,” Darryl said.

  “Can anyone verify that?”

  “I can,” Lyle replied. “The boy still lives at home. We were there all night.”

  “You actually know for a fact that he was there at that time? Were you chilling in front of the TV or something?” I asked.

  “Well, no. We had dinner and then he went to his room. What is this all about?” Lyle asked.

  “Your son is under arrest,” I said pulling out my cuffs. The look on Darryl’s face was priceless.

  “What the hell are you talking about? Under arrest for what?” Darryl asked.

  “What is going on here?” Lyle shouted.

  I kept calm. “Your son’s truck matches the tire prints left in the mud at the scene of a crime last night. A young lady went out with your son last night and she claims he drove out towards the lake and then proceeded to try to rape her. She was lucky to get away.”

  “That’s preposterous!” Lyle yelled.

  “You’ve got the wrong guy!” Darryl added.

  I thought he was going to resist arrest, but he cooperated as I placed him in the cuffs and escorted him out to the back of the police car. His dad was going nuts the entire time telling him to keep his mouth shut until he got a lawyer there.

  Yea, he was gonna need a good lawyer.

  “That’s him,” Lydia said. “Oh, my God, that’s him.” The last words were choked out over her sobs.

  “You are absolutely sure?” I asked as I sat down. Lydia had just finished listening to the interrogation interview I gave to Darryl Tibbs. Lydia knew him as Dallas—apparently creating different sounding names wasn’t his strong suit.

  We’d had him in the station house for a few hours. He had spent most of that time chilling out. We cops call this procedure “marinating the fish” because we are hoping that by sitting there by himself and thinking about the crime that he is being charged with the perp will be ready to spill their guts when the actual interrogation begins. Plus it gave us time for our forensics guys to confirm that the mud in Darryl’s tires was the same exact mud from the crime scene.

  We had the bastard dead to right.

  I felt bad for Lydia having to listen to him. It must have been heartbreaking and brutal on so many levels.

  Darryl waived his right to have an attorney present during questioning, ignoring his dad’s advice. He was an idiot. His ego was so massive that he really thought he could beat this. Even after all of the evidence we told him about. We had him nailed, but he just kept saying he was innocent.

  What struck me most was how cavalier and nonchalant he was about everything. Nothing rattled him, not even when I showed him pictures of Lydia’s cut up arms and reminded him over and over how scared she must have been. He just smirked and said he didn’t do it. Even if someone didn’t do this, being presented with those images would have made them squirm and about half sick to their stomach.

  But not him. He was cool as ice.

  “The girl is nuts,” Darryl finally said. “She wanted to get it on with me so we agreed to go out by the lake. Once we got out there she just flipped out and started fighting with me and trying to tear my eyes out. I backed off and told her to get out of my truck. I don’t need crazy chicks and psycho drama in my life. Then I left. I didn’t report it because I was afraid of how it looked and that people might think I raped her. I didn’t touch her.”

  “We have evidence that proves otherwise. You left her there? You know she is blind and that anything could have happened to her out there all by herself.”

  “She could have called someone,” Darryl said.

  “She dropped her phone when you attacked her,” I said.

  “I did not attack her!” Darryl shouted, the most emotion he'd shown all night. "You know, I'm not answering any more questions until I get my lawyer."

  I left the room. I figured he would go with the lawyer idea eventually. Most of these morons did when they realized they were in completely over their heads.

  “He is lying,” Lydia said quietly.

  “I know,” I replied rubbing her hand gently. “I know.”

  CHAPTER 4

  “Wow, this is the same exact booth we always used to get,” Troy said as we sat down.

  I squinted as hard as I could to bring everything into just a little better focus and realized he was right. It had been ages since I’d stepped foot in the Silver Moon Diner, which was our favorite high school hangout. It was conveniently located right across from the school and I practically ate lunch and a snack after school there every single day. I missed the old days, but gradually you just start to adopt new routines and habits.

  “That’s amazing!” I replied feeling for the bench.

  We both ordered burgers, fries, and chocolate shakes, which is what we always used to order. It was great to be back here. It really felt like old times.

  I was shocked when he asked me out. My parents were very hesitant at first too, but being that they knew Troy and he was a cop now put their minds at ease a bit. Mine too.

  Troy had been so sweet to me. I
was so glad it was him who found me out there in the woods. I did not remember much about anything for the last several hours I was there, but I do remember seeing his sweet face when he rescued me.

  I had tried to put the nightmare behind me, but I knew that it was only beginning in some ways. I was probably going to have to testify to put Dallas… uh, Darryl away. I could not believe that he had lied about everything. I’ve always been leery of people I don’t know and I could not stop kicking myself for lowering my guard. But it wasn’t my fault entirely. He put something in my drink; I’m sure of it. I wondered how many other women he had done this to. He was too calm and smooth with it for it to be the first time. It was almost like it was something he had done several times before and somehow I managed to throw a wrench in things for him.

  While we ate Troy told me about how he had joined the force right out of high school and that he loved it. I had kept in touch with him a little bit on social media throughout the years, but after my parents basically forbade me to see him anymore I felt it was best to just stop almost all contact. It was too painful to see someone that I had fallen in love with all the time and know that we couldn’t be together.

  As I told Troy this I could see that he understood and in his heart, he always knew that was the reason we had lost touch. It was just easier.

  "I agree," Troy said. "It's been hard, though, Lydia. I occasionally see you around town or see you post something on Facebook and my heart just twinges a bit. I just wish that things could have been different."

  I nodded finishing up my shake. Then I smiled at him as I realized something. “Well, maybe it can be.”

  I could not believe those words came out of my mouth. But I was feeling something special being there with him right then. I have never believed in fate, but I was starting to think there was something that had brought us together again. Even if it was under awful circumstances.

  Troy smiled back at me and took my hand in his. He started to speak but then he stopped. I could tell by his body language as he held my hand that something was wrong. He had gone very tense and quiet suddenly.

  “What’s going on?” I asked nervously.

  “A couple guys just came in the diner. They are bad news,” Troy said.

  “Who are they?”

  “We have reason to believe that they are in the drug trade, running drugs and weapons out of Seattle. I haven’t been able to nail them yet, but we all know that they are responsible for the rise in our drug epidemic around here.”

  “Wow, should we leave?” I asked.

  “No, it’s ok. I’m not going to let these assholes run us out of here,” Troy said.

  I was hoping that nothing would happen here, but I could feel the tension in the air. Troy was too proud and too proud as a cop to let these hoodlums presence run him out of anywhere. I was hoping that it would go peacefully and the guys would just be quiet customers grabbing some burgers to go, but no such luck.

  Within minutes of being seated, I could hear the three of them being rowdy and rude as could be.

  “So, Darlene,” one of them asked the waitress, “What time do you get off work?”

  “Ten-thirty. Why do you want to know?”

  “Well, I figured I could get you off sooner, if you know what I mean!”

  The three guys laughed uproariously slamming their fists on the tables and hooting and hollering. I could hear several customers quickly paying their checks and leaving. I could not blame them. I wondered why we weren’t leaving too. Troy wasn’t in uniform; was it possible none of them knew him?

  “Wow, this place is dying in a hurry. Have fun driving home pussies!” another thug yelled.

  The other man went to the jukebox and picked out a couple of songs. He then grabbed one of the other waitresses. I could hear her trying to clean off a table and gather dishes. Suddenly a plate scattered to the floor shattering loudly in the diner.

  “Look what you made me do!” the waitress yelled in frustration.

  "Oh, I'm really sorry," the thug yelled. "I guess I'll have to be punished. I'd love for you to punish me, baby."

  The waitress squealed suddenly.

  My heart leaped to my throat.

  “Let her go!” Troy yelled standing up.

  I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t worth it, but I knew that he had to take care of this. Even though he was off duty, he was still the law.

  “What are you going to do?” The ring leader said stepping forward. I could barely make out the shapes of the men, but the restaurant was well lit which helped a lot. Of course, this only added to my terror.

  “You guys need to leave, now,” Troy said.

  “Listen here, the big bad cop wants us to leave,” the ringleader said. “Yea, we know who you are. You are the ass clown that keeps trying to get in our business, trying to find us doing something naughty, and coming up empty handed every single time.”

  “This is your final chance,” Troy said.

  Before he could finish his statement the leader punched him in the mouth. Troy flew backwards against a booth. He quickly regained his composure as the thug came at him again. Troy ducked the next punch and threw his shoulder into the man’s stomach knocking him to the ground.

  He was coming to attack the man when the other two grabbed him and threw him back. Troy collided with the wall this time with a sickening smack. He was instantly hit with three punches as the two men started to pound on him.

  I didn’t know what to do. When were they going to stop? Were they going to beat him to death? My first thought was to call the police, but they would never get there in time. I felt so helpless. I was tired of feeling so damn helpless with everything.

  “Don’t move!”

  A man’s voice came from the back of the restaurant. I squinted and was able to make out the manager standing there holding a gun and pointing it at the three thugs. They played it off as a joke, but I could tell that they weren’t too sure about pushing this guy with a gun.

  “Get away from him,” the manager said.

  The three men backed away.

  “Now get lost,” the manager said as he cocked the gun.

  The leader began to laugh but nevertheless he and his crew sauntered outside, got in their cars, and left.

  To my surprise, Troy was able to get up and shake off the attack, despite a few bruises and a bloody lip. He drove me home and we continued to speak almost like this ugly incident had never happened, but he apologized for the fight anyway.

  “It’s ok,” I said. “You were only doing what was right.”

  “I’m glad, you think so,” Troy said as he pulled up in front of my home.

  He walked me to my door we said our goodnight. As I walked inside I thought about how lucky I was to have such a strong man in my corner to protect me. With all of the craziness I’d been around lately, that was a comforting thought.

  CHAPTER 5

  I laid the pictures on the table in front of him and waited. It was about thirty seconds before he shifted his eyes from me and actually glanced at them. Then he smirked and shrugged.

  “What the hell is this?” Darryl asked.

  “These are pictures of Mary Clark and Sheila Dobbs, two women who were found murdered and buried in shallow graves out on Old Cedar Rd over the past six months,” I said.

  “Ok, so why are you showing me their pictures,” Darryl said playing dumb.

  I decided to play along. “Well, you see I think you had a bit of something to do with their deaths. Forensics records indicate that both of them had been given Rohypnol, which oddly enough is the same drug that you slipped to Lydia Thomas when you tried to rape her. Was that your final plan for her too?”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about. I never met either of those girls and I already told you a bazillion times what happened to Lydia.”

  “Yea, you did, but your story is full of holes, like your brain,” I said. I leaned in closer trying to intimidate the bastard better. “I know you had somethi
ng to do with this and it is only a matter of time before we have enough evidence to put you away. You might even get the death penalty. If you cooperate then maybe the judge will just give you life.”

  Darryl did not respond. He might have known that Washington doesn’t have the death penalty. I decided to try another tactic.

  "So, how sad is it that you have to resort to drugging women to get them to sleep with you? Why kill them, though? Is it because you can't get it up---"

  “Shut up!” Darryl shouted. I was a bit surprised by the outburst and I could not stifle a laugh. “Besides it was only a little my fault, not like the others,” Darryl muttered to himself as he covered his face.

  His mask of sanity was starting to crack. It took him a second to realize what he had just let slip and his eyes went wide with terror.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “Nothing. Dammit. I want my lawyer. No more questions without my lawyer present.”

  “You are always allowed to have your lawyer present, just like before. You just have to call him. No one is stopping you. It doesn’t matter anyway. You are going to jail and we will find out what you meant by that little slip.”

  “I can’t,” Darryl said.

  “You can’t what?”

  “I will not go to jail as a rat. Rats get it worse in prison than sex offenders do!”

  “Well, you are a sex offender,” I said as I walked out of the room closing the door behind me.

  Over the next few days I checked around a bit more about Darryl and I began to see some red flags that indicated this squeaky clean kid from a squeaky clean upper middle-class family was not only a rapist and a murderer, but he was also associated with some big time drug kingpins in the area, including the wonderful guys I'd had the pleasure of being beaten up by the other night.

  I found out from a lowlife junky named Clay Diggs, that we offered a deal to become a police informant, that Darryl was the guy who was dealing all the drugs to the high school kids and big time to the college kids. He was well known and from that side of town and the upper crust of the community so he was able to secure these rich kids who could and would pay top dollar for a batch of the premium stuff that was being brought to Seattle.