What Lies Beneath The Flowerbed

by D. M. Thornton

  The waitress stops by our table, sets a Jack and Coke in front of Jett, and bats her pretty brown eyes. “Your usual. Can I get you anything else, hun?” She’s all too sweet and flirty, and I have the strongest urge to tackle her to the ground and claw her eyes out, then shove them down her throat.

  “No thanks,” Jett says.

  There is no reasonable explanation as to why I suddenly feel territorial. Jett is not mine, and I don’t want him to be. Hell, he makes my skin crawl. Okay, so mostly in a good way, but still, my brain should be transmitting the right messages to the rest of my body. It should be telling me to calm the fuck down. It should be assuring me the exchange between the waitress and Jett is innocent...nothing more than a server doing her job. But being around Jett flusters me to the point I lose all cognitive thinking skills, and all I can think about is how she’s flirting with him and he’s flirting back. Yes, I realize he responded to a generic question with a generic answer, but I don’t care. The idea of Jett even looking at another woman has my stomach twisting in knots.

  I tuck my hands under my thighs to keep myself from grabbing Jett by the cheeks and forcing his tongue out of his mouth so I can yank it out with just my tiny fingers. Legit—the body is pumped with super powers when it’s overtaken by adrenaline in the time of stress. The mere sight of me would never convince anyone of the things I am capable of, but when I’m set off...I have the strength and power of a herd of elephants. There’s not much I won’t do—the gorier and more demented...the better. The creature can only be contained for so long before it’s unleashed and my true form is exposed for the whole world to see. I can’t let that happen. My brain needs to snap back to reality, because I have no business feeling possessive over something that is not even mine.

  When the waitress leaves, Jett takes a sip of his drink then sets it back down on the table with a grimace. “Shit that’s strong.” He shakes his head as if that will extinguish the burn that is trailing down his throat. I watch his Adam’s apple rise and fall as he swallows before he adds, “My buddies and I come here every Friday night.”

  Well rip off my panties and slap my ass, it’s a wonder Andi, Jaz, and I have never been caught. How is it remotely possible that I have never run into Jett at this particular bar before? We do rotate the dives we go to, but we frequent this one more than the others.

  “Uh, we come here a lot, and I’ve never seen you before.” It dawns on me at that moment that maybe he’s fucking with me. Maybe he’s been tailing me. Maybe he used Thomas Anderson as a ploy to get in front of me. He’s probably not even the kid’s stepdad. Fuck, what if I’m on the most wanted list and I didn’t even realize that I’m being watched? Holy shit. Is it possible that I left some evidence behind? No. There’s no way. I’m super careful, and when I say careful, I mean I’m over the top, crazy anal. But then I recall the waitress calling Jett by his name, and she did just bring over his drink as if it was his drink of choice. I must be paranoid. I seriously need to pull myself together when I’m around this guy. There’s no telling what might come out of my mouth if I don’t play it just right.

  “Yeah, well, the timing isn’t always consistent; it just depends on the hours we’re working.”

  “Are you all cops?” I ask, taking a long, drawn out sip of my Bloody Mary. I pinch the plastic toothpick between my fingers and slip one of the olives past my lips, noting Jett staring at my mouth as I chew.

  He pauses before responding. “Cole is S.W.A.T and, Drew, he’s a sleazy attorney. I’m the detective.”

  Of course he’s a detective. Most likely homicide, I’m sure.

  Wait, if he’s a detective, then why was he pulling me over? Isn’t that patrol’s job? Holy shitballs, maybe he was following me. Maybe he’s waiting for me to leave with someone so he can catch me in the act. Dammit, I need to stop overanalyzing.

  “Interesting.” I’m too terrified to show any enthusiasm. The idea of these three men together frightens me like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, and I’ve been through some scary shit. They’re a lethal combination that wouldn’t think twice about putting me away for life. This must be a test to see how well I can cover my own tracks. And although I’m certain I’m safe, anxiety can fuck up a well thought out plan. Nerves can easily highjack a calm mind, and when you start second guessing yourself, well, let’s just say that’s a huge ass problem. Things start going wrong...very wrong.

  With my drink gone, and our boy toy walking out of the bar with a blonde under his arm, I have to make a quick decision whether or not to chance going after the guy or letting him walk out. I really have no reason to sit here any longer. I don’t do idle conversation as it is, but the thought of forming a conversation with a detective while our victim is leaving, on his way to rape and torture an innocent woman, makes my stomach turn. I have to get out of here. Knowing what’s about to happen to that girl is the deciding factor. I can’t sit back and let it happen when I can do something to stop it. I just need to be smart about how I’m going to get out from under Jett’s stare. If he at all follows me, I will have no choice but to pull back and go home...no matter how much it kills me.

  My eyes widen as my lips press into a crooked smile. “Well, Jett, it was nice seeing you again, but I better call it a night.”

  I go to stand, but Jett’s hand grabs mine, pulling me back down to my seat. “What’s the hurry?”

  I need to run down a rapist and kill him because you people don’t do your job, is what I would like to say, but of course I keep a tight lip. I glance over at the bar where Andi and Jaz are still shooting back drinks with Drew and Cole. They haven’t the slightest clue that the asshole we came here for just left with his next victim. They’re having such a great time, not having a care in the world, that they don’t realize they are mingling with people who should be going after assholes like Nick Weiler, a convicted child molester turned rapist of fresh-faced twenty-one-year-olds who think they’re going home with the quarterback of the college football team only to find themselves strapped to a cot in the middle of a warehouse being violated by foreign objects before Mr. Weiler rams his own filthy cock into them. Instead, guys like Jett, Cole, and Drew go after people like me...the people who pick up their slack when they don’t catch the bad guys. I erase these motherfuckers from the earth, making it a better place to live, while law enforcement sits around, twiddling their thumbs and picking their asses.

  “Uh, um,” I stutter, “there is no hurry, really. I just...I need to get home. It’s been a long week.”

  I look back over at Andi and Jaz, seriously thinking about slipping out without telling them. All they’re doing is tossing their hair around and rolling their heads with their girlish giggles while I’m left on my own with Jett, stirring in my seat knowing what’s about to happen, and I won’t be there to stop it. I want to leave, but will that raise a red flag? The more I dodge Jett, the more risk I take that he starts investigating me. Which might start out as an innocent Internet search, but when he can’t easily find something on me, he’ll dig deeper, opening the demon’s gates. And even though I’m certain that I’m clean...nothing in life is a guarantee. Except death and taxes, that is. If Jett is at all good at his job, it’s only a matter of time before I’m known as a killer...not a school teacher.

  I make a definite decision, one that may come back to bite me in the ass, but I can’t sit here a second longer knowing that I could have done something to stop Nick Weiler. “I’m sorry, Jett, really I am, but I have to go.” I push my chair back and grab my purse, but before I can walk past him, he catches my arm.

  “Be careful, Ms. Knight. It’s late, and there have been a lot of disappearances around here lately. Keep your eyes open,” he says.

  My eyes blink rapidly as I try to hide the look of horror that I’m sure my face is showing right now. He knows. He has to. Otherwise, why would he say that to me? Hellz bellz, I can’t breathe. “I’ll do that, Mr. Roman. Thank you.” I snatch my arm free from Jett’s grip and take off to
ward the door, ignoring Jaz, who’s calling after me.

  There’s no time to stop. I might already be too late.

  God, please don’t let Jett follow me.

  * * *

  Nick and the young girl had already left the bar parking lot by the time I made it outside, but thankfully, I do my research and I knew where he would have taken her. Pulling into the abandoned warehouse outside of Gardner, I turn off my headlights and drive around the building until I see Weiler’s car. This isn’t my first choice of how to do things. I’d much rather have my girls with me, luring these guys in willingly rather than me sneaking around old rundown buildings in search of a rapist who uses weapons. I don’t carry much by the way of tools, but I always keep in my car a small case that holds an extra scalpel and a Taser gun. Hey, it’s all I have. Don’t judge. I open my purse to double check the syringe I keep in the side pocket and curse out loud. “Fuck.” The Thiopental laced syringe that I carry is empty. I must’ve forgotten to refill it after our last outing.

  What the hell? It’s not like me to forget something as important as a ready-to-go needle of sleepy time medicine. I need to keep my shit together.

  I carry a small flashlight, one that fits in the palm of my hand that also has sharp ridges on the top. It can do some serious damage if need be, but I’m hoping I have the element of surprise and can catch Nick off guard. If I can come up quietly from behind, my Taser gun will work long enough to slit his throat. I’m having heart palpitations as I tiptoe my way through the dark building. It smells of dust, mold, and feces, and there’s a scent off in the distance that I can’t put my finger on. Burning iron, maybe? There’s not a single ounce of noise around me. No voices, no rustling of debris, no screaming. It’s eerily quiet, so I’m not sure in which direction I should go to first. I head off to my left, very carefully slipping passed some large sheets of painter’s plastic that’s hanging from the ceiling, noting that they might come in handy. The plastic separates each room, and with each sheet that I duck through, there’s a soft crinkle of the plastic. The sound echoes in the dead silence, and I fear I’m announcing my arrival. But each room I go through is empty. Going deeper into the complete darkness leads me nowhere.

  I stop where I’m at and shine the flashlight around me. The room is empty besides a few boxes and at least a quarter-inch worth of dirt and dust that’s layered on the floor. Every time I pick up my feet, the dust puffs up in a cloud, filling my nose with its musty smell. The dirt particles tickle my nose and, just as I’m about to sneeze, I pinch my nose and clamp my mouth shut at the same time a loud clank comes from the right of me. I manage to stuff the sneeze back in and, very delicately, walk toward to sound. As I get closer, there’s a new sound, one that I’m familiar with. One that sends chills down my spine. A muffled, gagging cry. I want to run at full speed toward that noise, but I know that’s not a smart move, so I’m forced to carefully trudge forward as quietly as I can with smooth and even steps.

  There’s a soft glow in the distance, and as I approach, the light flickers. From behind the plastic, it’s easy to tell that the light is coming from the flames of a fire, and when I get close enough to find a small hole in the plastic, I get up close and lean my face near the hole to peer through. I choke back a gasp and clamp my hand over my mouth, watching through tear-rimmed lashes. Nick is straddling the girl’s chest, his cock shoved deep into her mouth as he pumps relentlessly into her throat. The clanking noise is coming from her arms and ankles that are chained and bound to a cot, and with each jerk of her arms and legs, the chains smack the side of the metal bed.

  The girl’s eyes are bulging out of her head as she stares up at him, struggling against his invasion. Tears stream down her cheeks as she gags around him. This is my chance. With his back to me, I’m about to step out from behind the plastic, but just before I do, he releases a grunt and a hiss as his shoulders shudder then slump over. When he pulls himself, limp, out of her mouth, a reddish white substance seeps from the corners of her mouth. I squint my eyes, trying to get a better look, but Nick turns around, facing my direction. I duck down and hold my breath, keeping as still as a statue, and wait until I hear the sound of scraping metal on concrete.

  “Did you like that, bitch?” Nick’s voice, hoarse and dry, asks. “Just wait until I have my way with your cunt. You’re gonna love it.”

  There’s sobbing then a muffled, shrieking cry, and when I stand up to look back through the hole of the plastic, I see Nick walking towards her with a burning red hot iron poker, which explains the burning metal smell.

  Holy shit, he’s going to impale her with that.

  I don’t waste another minute. I’m way closer than thirty-four feet to Nick, and with my dominant hand holding the Taser, I step back and look for the opening to the plastic. It couldn’t be more perfect; the flap is literally lined up perfectly with Nick’s back. I pocket the flashlight and dart to my left, breaking through the plastic, and aim the Taser. As Nick turns around, shock plastered over his face, I shoot the Taser gun, nailing him square in the chest. His body twitches and jerks before he falls to the ground with an agonizing groan. The hot poker hits the ground with an echoing clank, and without a second thought, I walk right up to the poker, pick it up, and drive it into Nick’s spazzing chest.

  Warmness washes over me as the heat from the poker sends smoke spiraling up from the hole in his flesh. There’s a calming in my bones when I watch the life drain from one’s eyes. It’s sick, I know, but a kill eases the tension that plagues me. It drains my soul of the darkness, filling me back up with light. Doing what I do is the only thing that makes me feel alive.

  Because I’m a sadist, and because I know the evil Nick Weiler has brought to so many young children and women, I yank down a sheet of the plastic from the ceiling and shove it under Nick’s body. I remove the scalpel from my back pocket and, with a single swipe along his neck, I slit his throat and watch the blood seep from his jugular and onto the plastic. I know he’s already dead, and I don’t need to take it a step further and nearly decapitate him, but I can’t help myself. The fucker needed to have a long and painful death, and since he didn’t get what he deserved, that slice gives me a sense of justice...it frees me.

  I almost forget about the girl until she begins choking on her tears. I wipe the scalpel clean on Nick’s chest and stuff it back into my pocket before trying to free the girl from the chains. I glance down at her, not sure if she’s terrified because of what Nick did to her or from witnessing his death. But when I remove the last cuff from her wrist, she quickly scoots back against the cot, hugging her knees. I sit at the foot at the bed and, in a calm voice, say, “I’m sorry I didn’t make it before he did what he did. And I’m sorry you had to see that.” I tweak my head toward Nick’s lifeless body. “But he deserved it,” I mumble under my breath.

  The girl buries her head between her legs, but then shoots up on her knees and begins vomiting over the side of the cot. When she’s done emptying her stomach of cum and blood, she looks at me through wet eyes. Her mouth is slightly open, but when she pulls back her lips in a scared smile, I see that all of her front bottom and top teeth are missing. “Fuck me, did he pull out your teeth?”

  Her head nods as she begins to sob harder. I’m not sure if I should try to console her; I’m not really good at comforting people. But I try. I scoot a tad closer to her and stretch my arm out, letting my palm rest on her back. She jumps at the touch, but then relaxes when I start to move my hand in gentle circles. My heart sinks to my stomach when there’s a loud bang behind us. In one swift movement, I stand, twirling around, scalpel in hand, ready to strike.

  “Put that shit down, crazy pants,” Jaz barks, coming around the sheet of plastic that’s still hanging from the ceiling. “Damn, Gray, the poker wasn’t enough, uh?”

  “No, and what the hell are you doing here?” I snap.

  Andi emerges from the darkness, her hand on her hip. She grins when she sees Nick’s body, but then her lips press into a
firm line. “Following your sorry ass. Shit, I left a hot sex-in-a-box back at that bar, all because you had to bolt out the door like your panties were on fire. I was going to make Jaz come by herself, but whaddya know, I do have a soul.”

  “Hey, I didn’t ask you to come. I just knew I couldn’t sit there another second knowing what was about to happen. I didn’t make it in time, but at least I prevented him from turning this poor girl into a pussy kabob.” I glance over my shoulder. “That motherfucker knocked all her teeth out before he jammed his cock in her mouth. Probably so she couldn’t bite his dick off.”

  Jaz walks around the cot and kneels down in front of the girl. She’s much more compassionate than I am. She gently takes the girls cheeks in her hands and carefully moves her lips so she can inspect the damage done. “What’s your name, love?” she asks.

  The girl’s voice cracks as she forces out a weak breath. I think she said Sasha, but with her missing teeth, it came out more like a wheezy Yaya. She squeaks on a sob when she realizes the hole where her teeth once were now gives her a severe speech impediment. She tries to say her name again with the same impaired outcome.

  “Sasha?” Jaz asks, picking up on what we all heard.

  She nods a confirmation.

  Jaz rubs her shoulders trying to ease her. “I know of a dentist who will be happy to fix your teeth, Sasha. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to see him so we can get you some beautiful implants. Okay?”

  Andi steps forward, her face solemn. “Maybe you should leave her toothless. I can do a li’l snippety-snip-snip...cut out her tongue,” she says with a grin. “That way she can’t rat.”

  “Shut your pie hole,” I snap. “She won’t talk, will you, Sasha?”