Darknet

by John R. Little

It was ten days earlier that Tony had taken her to the hotel that first time. They’d met there two other times since then.

  She almost jumped into his arms, kissing him lovingly, holding him tightly to her, wanting to melt into his body. She felt safe when she was with him, and she knew that part of her wanted to be with him all the time.

  He’ll do my talking for me, she knew.

  When they broke the kiss, Deb closed the door and glanced around the room. A couple of throw pillows could be better organized on the couch, and there were a few magazines on the floor, but overall it wasn’t too messy. She wondered how the bedroom looked, but she didn’t dare run over to look.

  “How did you find me?” she asked.

  Tony laughed and she stared at that amazing face of his, with the deep laugh lines and the wonderfully relaxing eyes.

  Jeez, I’m already falling for this guy, and I barely know him.

  “I’m pretty good with computers,” he answered. “And you’re not exactly hard to find.”

  She wondered briefly about that but the thought left her quickly.

  It was a Sunday afternoon. The other times they’d met, it had been later in the day.

  “Hey, we can go do something today!”

  “Well, that’s what I’m here for.”

  She felt her face turn hot and pink. “I mean we could go to a movie or dinner or something. Even a walk through the park. It’s such a nice—”

  Deb stopped when she saw the smile drop away from his face.

  “Tony? What is it?”

  He frowned. “That’s not what we have here, Deb. We have sex. That’s what we have.” He paused and forced a smile back onto his face. “You know that’s what we have, right?”

  Deb nodded, not able to contradict him.

  “I just thought it’d be nice to surprise you here instead of going to a hotel.”

  She nodded again, her voice gone.

  “Babe?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

  She just smiled and hugged him, wanting to hide herself in his body and not have to meet his eyes. He hugged her back and then lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom.

  * * *

  For the first time, Deb faked having an orgasm. She was sore from him pulling her hair, yanking her arms, biting her nipples, and fucking her harder than he’d ever done before. He hadn’t seemed to notice that she wasn’t wet. Either that or he didn’t care.

  She was hurt and she was angry and just wanted him to go away, so she faked it as soon as he came inside her.

  He grunted and pushed one last time, holding his cock deep inside her as he bit her left nipple again. It almost felt like he was going to bite it off and swallow it. She wanted to scream from the pain and bit her tongue to avoid that. She tasted blood.

  Then it was over. He pulled out and lay beside her, quiet.

  She licked her lips and wondered how long it would take him to leave.

  Next time I’m not answering the damned door, she thought.

  But then, maybe today was just an aberration. Maybe he was having a bad day, even worse than the day she ended up having. Maybe he just needed to keep their relationship secret one last time . . .

  “What the fuck was that?” he asked.

  She froze and tried to sink into the mattress.

  He rose up on one elbow and she saw a look of anger in his eyes.

  “You didn’t like that? That’s what you’re telling me? Can’t even get aroused for me?”

  She forced the words out, “It’s just a bad day.” She knew she sounded like a faint breeze.

  “Bad day? Fuck your bad day, babe.”

  His eyes grew narrow and she felt fear surround her. Fear was a constant companion for her: fear of having to talk to strangers, fear of the phone ringing, fear of having to go through a checkout at the grocery store, fear of the bank, fear of her own job.

  Never before had she felt this kind of fear, though. She’d never felt like her life was in danger. That’s the look he gave her. The long, deadly look that said, “You’re a pile of shit and I can do whatever I want with you.”

  And he did.

  He climbed on top of her and pinned her arms above her head but this time he pulled them both almost out of their sockets.

  She cried out in pain, but that only got a chuckle from him.

  He let her arms go, and they flopped back down to her sides. Then he pulled his right arm back and slapped her hard in the face.

  The impact almost knocked her out. She felt dizzy and her face was swimming in pain. She couldn’t concentrate and didn’t notice the second hit until it landed. She was crying non-stop now, not able to talk, not even able to beg him to stop.

  Tony hit her a third time. “Shut the fuck up, you stupid bitch.”

  As he hit her, she saw that he had another erection.

  Oh, God, he gets turned on by this.

  He laughed and grabbed her left arm and twisted it.

  “OH, PLEASE STOP!”

  The pain was worse than anything she’d ever felt. He twisted the arm more and more, and somehow she heard his laughter above the cries he was ignoring.

  Her arm felt like it was going to snap like a wishbone. Then he lifted it with an upward jerk, after it was all twisted. The snap of her shoulder fracturing was the last shock she felt. The pain finally brought her to a dreamless sleep.

  * * *

  When she woke, the agony felt worse than ever. She was already crying when she found herself conscious. The only good thing was that she was alone.

  It took her twenty minutes to be able to crawl from her bed to her kitchen, where she’d left her cell phone. She dialed 911 and collapsed again. The paramedics found her lying on the kitchen floor.

  She never said who it was that had destroyed her arm and left her face looking like sandpaper.

  After all, there was always a chance he’d just been having a bad day.

  Chapter 14

  July 25

  Cindy McKay ignored the advice she’d received to just pack up and run. She ignored advice, too, from Maria, who thought it best to just beg her parents for the blackmail money and get the damned Manipulator out of her life.

  Somehow Cindy knew that neither solution would end well. If she took Avril and ran to another country, she’d be robbing her daughter of her life. What kind of future would she have in South America? And paying the $250,000 would just invite another blackmail threat. Why would the Manipulator just wander off into the sunset instead of demanding more money?

  He wouldn’t, of course.

  So, neither of those solutions worked.

  What was left? She didn’t have many ideas. She could call the police, but she knew her reputation would be shot and she would likely be charged with trying to arrange a contract murder. No matter how big a monster Tony was, the law wouldn’t see that side of him. He was the innocent one, and she was the murdering bitch of a wife.

  Part of her wondered if her father could somehow find the connections to solve her problem. Her parents had more money than they could spend in a half-dozen lifetimes, and surely Daddy had connections. If anybody could call off this shadowy killer, he could.

  At times, when she lay awake in bed in the wee hours of the morning, she sometimes convinced herself of that. Daddy would be able to save her.

  In the light of morning, though, the reality came rushing back. He may be rich, but he made all his money through legitimate means. He’d never really have a clue how to deal with this. Hell, even the expert who’d originally told her about DarkNet had no clue how to stop the rising tsunami that was swallowing her alive.

  Then an odd thing happened.

  Cindy realized it was almost the end of July. Thursday, July 28. She’d run through her normal radio show, laughing and joking with her audience, talking about the current heat wave and holding a phone-in contest to find the best vacation spot of the week. The winning phone call came from a cook who worked on a charter ship that took passengers fro
m the tip of Argentina down even farther south to Antarctica.

  “Aah, so cool there,” he said with a bit of a chuckle in his accented voice. “Right now is minus forty at South Pole, and you can make the snow angel patterns by lying down and sweeping with your arms and legs.”

  Russian, she thought. Surely Russian.

  It was just above 100 degrees outside and very sticky from the humidity. The weather forecasters were saying it wasn’t that unusual, but damn it, it felt like it.

  She faked her way through the entire show, barely paying any attention to what she was doing. It was like she was on auto-pilot, and she was glad she had so much experience to be able to pull it off without being fired.

  Her mind focused completely on the Manipulator, but it wasn’t until her way home that something struck her: July 28.

  It’d been eight days since he last contacted her. Eight days since he implied he’d hurt Avril. Since then . . . nothing. No e-mails, no threats, no letters, no phone calls, no dead animals . . . just nothing.

  “Maybe he’s gone.”

  She wanted to believe that. It seemed right. He’d been after her so much, demanding the money, but then he just disappeared.

  God, can it be true?

  She tasted metal. She’d bit her lower lip so hard there was a small stream of blood running from the corner of her mouth. Cindy grabbed a tissue and cleaned her mouth as she continued to drive.

  Maybe her troubles were over, not by running, not by ruining her life, but just by letting time pass.

  Cindy wanted this to be true. She wanted her horrible nightmare to be behind her and to be able to move forward with her life. She still had troubles, with her husband being number one in that department, but that at least was a “normal” problem. The pains he caused her were things she always knew she’d recover from.

  As she pulled into her driveway, the sun continued to beat down on her, and she dashed into the house as fast as she could. She called her neighbor, Gloria Estahazy, who was watching Avril during the summer, and asked her to send the ten-year-old home.

  When Avril got home, they both went down to the basement with a bowl of freshly-microwaved popcorn and watched a movie together on the Disney channel.

  Cindy laughed during the movie. It was the first time she’d laughed all summer, and when the movie was over, The Witches of Waverly Place started up. Both mother and daughter fell asleep, snuggled up together on the couch.

  * * *

  Earlier that day, Avril had chewed a peanut butter and jam sandwich while at Mrs. Estahazy’s house. It wasn’t very good, but she was hungry, and the babysitter wasn’t particularly prompt about serving lunch, so Avril often just helped herself to a sandwich. Mrs. Estahazy was much more interested in her soap operas, which was generally just fine by Avril. She liked the freedom.

  Once she finished her sandwich, she walked over and said, “I’m going outside now.”

  Mrs. Estahazy jerked her head sideways and nodded, then snapped back to the television.

  As she left, she said, “I might go play in the traffic or go find some quicksand to swim in. Hope that’s okay!”

  The older woman wasn’t listening, of course, and again, that was just fine with Avril. She knew enough to be back before her mom came to pick her up, but other than that she had her choice of how to spend the afternoon. She just had to be careful of the stupid cast on her wrist.

  She thought about going to see Laurie, but Laurie’s mom stayed home with her, and she knew word would get back to her own mom that she had wandered off during the day. That wouldn’t do, so she just headed over to the park, hoping to find somebody to play chess with.

  It was a warm sunny day, and Avril wore a light green cap that perched on her head like a bird in its nest. She liked how it kept the sun out of her eyes, and she imagined she looked very mysterious as she pretended to be a secret agent, darting from behind one tree to the next, getting ever closer to the park.

  There was nobody in the park, though, except for the man who had bought her ice cream a while ago. He was looking at her, not smiling, and Avril thought she could cheer him up.

  “Johnny, would you like to play?” she asked.

  He stared at her and forced a smile. “I saw you play, kid. I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  “I can spot you a rook.”

  He laughed. “I’d need both rooks and the queen to have a chance. I may not be much of a chess player, but I can recognize someone who is.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that. She really just wished he’d offer her another ice cream cone. It was getting hotter as the afternoon wore on.

  Avril pushed her hair back behind her ears.

  “Did you know the youngest-ever chess champion was four years old?” she asked.

  “Really?”

  She hesitated. “Well, maybe not exactly a champion, but he played in serious tournaments and stuff and won lots of games.”

  She licked her lips trying to escape the heat and then continued. “He was in nursery school but liked to read The Manual of Chess Combinations. I want to read that book sometime, but my mom and dad haven’t gotten it for me.”

  “Not yet. Maybe they will.”

  “Maybe.”

  They looked at each other in silence. He didn’t look like he was going to offer her an ice cream.

  “Well, I guess I should go home.”

  “Okay. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”

  She nodded and smiled.

  “Hey, kid,” he said. “Don’t go talking to any strangers, now. Keep safe.”

  “Thanks! I won’t.”

  She headed back towards Mrs. Estahazy’s house but somehow got sidetracked and found herself staring at the library. She knew about the library, had even seen the inside of it once or twice, but she didn’t think she was allowed inside on her own. Somebody might ask her what she was doing all by herself, and she didn’t really have a good answer.

  There’s lots of books in there, she knew. Maybe lots of chess books.

  Avril made a mental note to ask her mom how old she had to be to go to the library on her own.

  * * *

  That evening was one of the last good nights for Tony McKay. The day was long and hot, which was exactly perfect for him. He loved heat and he loved sunshine, and he loved evenings that just seemed to last forever. The summer solstice was already past, though, and in a blink of an eye, the sun would be setting long before he was ready for it to.

  Summertime had always been the inspiration for his music, and this year was no different. He’d spent hours today at the music store just tinkering with the words to his latest song. Even if Deb hadn’t loved it right away, he knew it’d grow on her, the same way Summer Drive had grown on everybody all those years ago.

  * * *

  Going on to the riverside

  Going on to the summer tide

  Loving my girl with the tight bikini

  Eating her up on the sandy shore

  * * *

  He knew the chorus still wasn’t quite right. He didn’t like the word “riverside” because rivers didn’t have tides, but the cadence worked well, so he’d left it for now. Stupid teenagers who bought all the music wouldn’t likely notice anyhow. They’d just snicker about the words “eating her up.” He smiled. It was likely okay for radio, and the kids would play it over and over, as if there was a big secret hidden there. Tony smelled the money already.

  He hesitated as he came to Deb’s house. He hadn’t seen her in four days, since . . . well, since she hurt herself.

  There hadn’t been any screaming phone calls from her, no nasty e-mails, and most importantly, no visits from the police. That was a good sign. Maybe she was a keeper after all.

  He texted her as he waited. “Hey, I’m here. Want some company?”

  After a few minutes, his phone bleeped. “You broke my shoulder and you want me to let you in?”

  Blood rushed to his head. She was blaming him?

&nbs
p; Jesus, you stupid twat, what the fuck’s wrong with you?

  He didn’t text that, though. Instead he said, “I’m sorry for anything I did wrong. Come on, you can let me in, can’t you?”

  For a few minutes, there was no reply, and he thought of just forcing his way inside, but then the door creaked open.

  Deb stared out at him. Her long dark hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she stared at him with curious eyes. She had a slight smile that hinted at secrets and pleasures. He felt his cock start to stir. He smiled at her and reached a hand out.

  “Careful, please,” she said.

  Her right arm had been hidden behind the door but now he saw it was riding in a sling. There wasn’t a cast, though, so how bad could it be?

  “Doc says it’ll be better in about six or seven weeks.”

  Tony nodded. “Sore?”

  “Fucking sore.”

  He wondered if she was going to have sex with him or if she’d use that as an excuse.

  “You have any beer?”

  “Sure. Come on.”

  He slid past her and into her kitchen, opened the fridge and pulled out two Budweisers. He snapped them both open and gave her one. They sat at the kitchen table.

  “You can’t be hurting me that much,” she said.

  At first he didn’t know how to respond. Nobody had ever talked to him calmly about him hurting them. They either screamed in anger or hid in fear.

  When he didn’t say anything, Deb added, “I understand you. I know you need to work out your aggressions and when you behave that way, I know it turns you on, and . . . well, that’s okay. I kind of get off on that, too, you know. That time you almost strangled me was the best orgasm of my life. But, it’s not okay to put me in the hospital.”

  He slurped back his beer. His erection was rock hard and he just wanted to fuck her. He didn’t really give a shit what she was saying.

  He moved to her and lifted up her skirt, then pulled down her panties.

  “Come to the bed,” he ordered.

  She followed him, and he lay her down with her legs dangling over the edge of the bed. He spread her legs and lowered himself so he could lick her pussy. She lay motionless on the bed until she became aroused and her legs started to twitch. He kept licking her until she came, moaning with pleasure.