Crime After Crime

by Crime After Crime (v5. 0) (mobi)

“It’s important you say you’re thirsty. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  I kept wondering when Paul was going to chicken out, believing his game-plan had to be relying on Charlie or me backing out first. That way, he would save face and still be king of the castle.

  “We’re gonna have to crawl from here, so he doesn’t spot us,” whispered Paul, dropping on his belly. “Come on.”

  Getting down, we crawled behind him like characters from an old war movie. A minute later, we reached the back of the trailer, and stood. Dull sounds were coming from inside.

  Paul edged his face against the back window. “The perv’s watching a porno. Check it out, Tommy.”

  Easing my face partially against the window, I focused with one eye. It was dark inside, but the luminous light from the television helped. Armstrong was sitting on a battered armchair, bottle of beer in one hand, remote control in the other. He seemed engrossed on whatever was on the television.

  “Okay, Charlie. Make a move for the door,” said Paul.

  “You… you won’t let him kill me, will you, Paul?”

  “Don’t be stupid. He’s the one who’s gonna be killed. Now move!”

  Slowly, Charlie edged his body along the front of the trailer. Even in the dull moonlight, I could see the terror on his face.

  What seemed like an eternity passed before Charlie began rapping timidly on the door.

  I quickly glanced in at Armstrong. He hit a button on the remote, muting the television.

  Charlie rapped again.

  The door opened, bleaching Charlie in light.

  “Yes?” said Armstrong.

  “I’m… I’m lost, Mister,” said Charlie. “Could… could you give me some directions on how to get home… please?”

  “Where the hell’s home, boy?”

  “Fair… Fairbanks. I live in Fairbanks,” lied Charlie.

  “Fairbanks? You’re a long way out. What’re you doing in this neck of the woods?”

  I could detect suspicion in Armstrong’s voice.

  “I… I was with a couple of friends, camping in Blackwood, but we split up after a stupid argument,” replied Charlie.

  “Camping’s illegal in Blackwood.”

  “You… you’re not going to call the cops, are you?”

  “No, so relax. Come in. You look hungry. You hungry, boy?”

  “And thirsty…”

  Everything went dark as the trailer door slammed.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “We wait until Armstrong comes to the back of the trailer. That’s where he keeps his cola.”

  Paul eased his face along the window, eyeing the scene from a corner. I took the other corner.

  I could see Charlie standing at the doorway. Armstrong was talking. Charlie looked petrified.

  Suddenly, Armstrong turned, and looked directly at us. Paul and I ducked down immediately. Above, I could hear movement approaching, then the sound of a cupboard opening.

  Paul eased his head back up, and peeped into the window. I followed suit and saw Armstrong taking a bottle of cola from an overhead cupboard. He eased the cap from the bottle.

  A few seconds later, Armstrong poured the cola into a glass, then, using the opened cupboard door as a shield, he began adding a touch of clear liquid from a small container into the glass.

  “What the hell’s he doing?” I looked at Paul. He was gripping the Luger so tightly, his knuckles looked like they were ready to pop. I watched in horror as he brought the muzzle of the gun to the window, hands trembling terribly.

  He’s really going to shoot, I thought, watching him take shaky aim.

  Without warning, Armstrong eased his face towards the window. I was certain he had spotted us. I froze. Armstrong continued staring. It wasn’t until later I realised he wasn’t looking at us, but Charlie’s mirrored image on the window.

  Turning, Armstrong headed back down the trailer to Charlie.

  “Paul? We can’t let him do this to Charlie,” I pleaded.

  But Paul didn’t respond. He simply stood there, like an android, pointing the gun at the window. It was then I noticed the enormous dark patch in Paul’s washed-out jeans. He had pissed himself.

  “Paul!” I screamed, not caring if Armstrong could hear us. “Snap out of it!”

  “I… I… I…” His lips were barely moving.

  “Shit!” I screamed, running towards the front of the trailer before kicking in the door.

  Charlie looked relieved; Armstrong looked shocked.

  “Run, Charlie!”

  Outside, we ran quickly to the end of the trailer to get Paul, but he was already running in the opposite direction, towards Blackwood forest.

  It was the last time I would ever see him…

  * * *

  Next day, I waited nervously as Dad returned home from night duty. I sat, pretending to read my comics.

  “Not out enjoying the sun?” he asked.

  “I want to finish this.” I held up the copy of Batman.

  So far so good. No mention of Armstrong.

  “Are you still running about with that Fleming kid?”

  My stomach suddenly did a little kick. Had he heard something, after all? Dad was very good at trapping people – just ask any of the criminals he had interrogated over the years before jailing them.

  “I… won’t be with him, anymore, Dad. That’s a promise.”

  He gave me one of his ten-second stares before replying.

  “Make sure you keep that promise. Now, get out into the fresh air.”

  I nodded, and headed for the door, grateful that the whole sorry Armstrong-episode was over with.

  By the time I reached the lake, the sun was baking down on me. The place was deserted, and the cool calm water looked totally inviting. Despite warnings from Dad to stay out of the water, I couldn’t resist. It still had that magnetic pull on me. Moreover, to overcome Joey’s death, I knew I had to conquer the water first. It was the only way to stop the nightmares I was having of Joey’s face, his skin being peeled and devoured by tiny fish.

  Stripping, I began piling my clothes against some rocks, when suddenly I thought I spotted someone staring at me from the trees’ shadows, deep beyond the lake’s fringe.

  “Paul? Is that you?”

  Nothing.

  “Who’s there?”

  I thought of Joey’s ghost.

  To hell with it. I ran naked towards the water’s coolness, diving into its murky underworld. It was exhilarating, and I went deeper, testing lungs, resolve and nerve.

  I seemed to have been swimming for hours when my head finally broke through the water’s ceiling. Breathing deeply, I let a yell of joy scream from my mouth. “I’m alive!”

  But the euphoria quickly dissipated when I heard something enter the water directly behind me.

  To my dismay, it was a girl, her dark hair crapped-in like a pageboy. Her face was a constellation of freckles. Like me, she was totally naked. Unlike me, she was beautiful.

  I felt my face burn. Had she seen me naked?

  “What’s your name?” she asked, nonchalantly, as if seeing a naked boy was the norm.

  I couldn’t speak. The sight of her nipples, poking above the water line, hypnotised me. It was the first time I had ever seen a naked girl. It was thrilling and terrifying.

  “Are you deaf?” she said. “What’s your name?”

  “Tommy,” I finally managed to mumble, trying desperately to look away from her breasts, but failing miserably.

  A smile appeared on her face. “I’ve seen you a couple of times, swimming here with your friends.”

  “You watched us, swimming…?” Nude, I wanted to say, but didn’t.

  “Out of sheer boredom, so don’t get the wrong idea.” The smile widened, making her even more beautiful. “Are you the one who discovered the dead kid?”

  I nodded. “Joey… his name was Joey Maxwell.”

  “You must be very brave.”

  “I don’t know,”
I said, shrugging my shoulders.

  “I wish someone would do that for me.”

  “I would,” I said, the two words sounding as if I had known her all my life.

  She laughed loudly, but I detected sadness in the sound.

  Suddenly, she disappeared underwater only to reappear seconds later beside me. Before I knew what was happening, she was kissing me full on the mouth. I could taste her breath, the saltiness of her tongue, the pressure of her breasts against my chest.

  I gasped as I felt her hands began fondling my balls under the water, as if weighing them. I couldn’t breathe. Her fingers moved across the shaft of my cock. I jerked back, as if being prodded by electricity.

  “What’s wrong? Haven’t you been with a girl before?”

  “Of course,” I lied, feeling my face burn with embarrassment. “Lots.”

  She laughed. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Now? But…”

  “Yes. Now.”

  “But…”

  She began swimming towards where our clothes lay in a heap. I watched her easing out of the water, small buttocks seesawing mischievously.

  “Aren’t you coming, Tommy?”

  I couldn’t. Too terrified she would see my penis, all stiff and angry.

  “I… no, I’m going to swim for a while.”

  “Okay.”

  I watched her putting on her clothing, preparing to leave.

  “What’s your name!” I shouted.

  “Dakota.”

  “Will you be here, tomorrow?”

  “Perhaps.”

  That night, I enjoyed the first good sleep since Joey’s death. Instead of nightmares of him, I dreamt of a mysterious girl called Dakota, wondering when – if – I would see her again.

  * * *

  Next day I ran as fast as I could towards Jackson’s Lake. Arriving at the exact spot from yesterday. I sat waiting. But my initial burst of euphoria quickly turned to despondency. She wasn’t coming. Not now. Probably not ever. I’d been a fool to think someone so beautiful would have an interest in someone as plain and boring as me.

  Four hours later, I eventually returned home, defeated.

  For days I moped about the house until finally threatened by Dad.

  “If you don’t get out and go someplace, I’ll be forced to bring you over to the jail to clean toilets.”

  Taking the hint, I left, walking in the direction of the lake, almost in a trance, hardly hearing Charlie behind me.

  “Going for a swim, Tommy?”

  “No. Just walking and killing time. What’s happening?”

  “Nothing much.” Charlie looked embarrassed, as if he had been avoiding me. It seemed we were all involved in a conspiracy of avoidance.

  “Seen Paul about?” I asked.

  “Yesterday, for a few minutes. We didn’t speak much. He…” Charlie peered over his shoulder. “He mentioned Not Normal.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Said that one day… he’d make him pay.”

  “Keep well away from Paul.”

  “You’re right.” Charlie nodded. “Sure you don’t want to go for a swim?”

  “Not today. I’ve things to do.”

  “Me, too.” Charlie looked relieved. “Well, call me when you want.”

  “Sure.”

  At the lake, I could do nothing but stare at the water.

  “You weren’t here yesterday,” said a voice behind me.

  I turned quickly to see Dakota smiling at me, and suddenly my world was okay again.

  “I was here a couple of days ago. I couldn’t find you.”

  “Can’t find what doesn’t want to be found,” she replied, cryptically. “Anyway, we’re both here now. Going for a swim?”

  Before I could answer, she was stripping, her beautiful naked body emerging from the cocoon-like clothing.

  “Stop gawking and strip!” she commanded. “C’mon!”

  Away she went, running for the water, leaving me fumbling at my clothing.

  In the water, she splashed while dunking me twice, laughing, throwing her head back with joy. She suddenly seemed like a kid, not the sophisticated woman I had imagined.

  “Isn’t this fun, Tommy?” Her eyes were smiling.

  “Yes!” I shouted from the top of my voice.

  I wanted this moment to last forever. I no longer cared about family or friends, life or any of those silly things.

  After an hour of swimming about, she said, “Come on.”

  “You’re going?” I was shattered.

  “I’ve things to do.” She began swimming towards land. “Hurry up and get out.”

  I quickly followed, feeling anger and disappointment boiling in me.

  On dry land she scooped up her clothes, but didn’t put them on.

  “This way. Hurry,” she said, smiling, running.

  Quickly grabbing my clothes, I followed her into the wild and camouflaging grass, noticing for the first time the constellation of miniature horseshoe-shaped bruises on her buttocks. The marks were frightening to look at, but I couldn’t take my eyes from them. It wasn’t the first time I had seen marks like that.

  Without warning, she pulled me down onto the grass, quickly rolling on top of me.

  “Squeeze,” she whispered, placing my hand on her left breast.

  Hesitantly, I squeezed. Her breast was warm and small, like an egg after a hen goes to feed.

  “Do you love me, Tommy?”

  “Y… yes.”

  “Say you love me.”

  “I… I love you,” I managed to say, throat sandpaper-dry.

  Rolling off, she lay on her back, fully exposed.

  “One day, when I think you’re ready, I’ll let you go further than just touching my boobs.”

  “Further?” My voice was a croak.

  “Yes, but things like that have to be earned. Do you understand?”

  “Yes… but—”

  “Shhhhhhhh!” She suddenly placed a finger firmly to my lips. Her eyes filled with terror. “Someone’s here, watching”

  The sweaty proximity of fear touched me for a second, making the hairs on the back of my neck tighten. I stopped breathing. Listening intently, I thought of Charlie. Had he followed me? Worse. Paul?

  We lay there motionless for minutes, when suddenly there was heavy movement behind me. I wanted to get up and run, but without warning a hare burst through the long blades of grass, scampering over our naked bodies, scaring the shit clean out of me.

  Dakota burst out laughing.

  “Oh, Tommy! Your face!”

  “Don’t you talk! You were terrified.”

  Suddenly, she stood up and started dressing.

  “Why’re you going, Dakota? Angry at me poking fun at you?”

  “Don’t be silly.” She kissed me on the lips. “I’ve got to go. My mum needs looking after. I can only get out for a couple of hours each day.”

  “Oh… I’m sorry.” Suddenly I was filled with remorse, and embarrassed by my selfishness.

  “It’s okay. I’ve been looking after her for years.”

  “Don’t… don’t you have a dad?” I asked, regretting it the moment my big mouth opened.

  “He… died… a long time ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t keep saying sorry.” Her voice suddenly had an edge. “It’s not a word I like. It’s weak.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “What?”

  “Promise you won’t get mad.”

  “I don’t believe in promises. They’re always broken.”

  “Those… those marks, on your… butt…”

  “Yes? What about them?” Her face was impassive, but her voice sounded cautious.

  “What… what are they? They look like burn marks.”

  “If that’s what they look like, then let them be just that,” she said, pulling on her jeans, zipping them so loudly they sounded like a knife cutting into bone. “Are you finished questioning me?”

 
“Yes…” I replied sheepishly.

  “Good.” She made a movement to go.

  “Can I walk you home?”

  “No.”

  I felt my throat tightening. The thought of her leaving was killing me.

  “When will I see you again?”

  “When I decide. Okay?”

  No, it wasn’t okay. “Okay.”

  I stood watching her leave, thinking of those horrible marks. It would be much later before I’d discover their true meaning.

  * * *

  Over the following days, I got up early, running to the lake. Each time she didn’t appear, misery wormed further into me.

  I would never forget that early morning in bed, hearing Dad’s voice filtering into my room. He was talking with Mum, but secretively, in hushed tones.

  Sneaking out of my room, I hid on the landing, listening.

  “Dreadful…” Mum kept repeating. “And you’ve no idea who the young girl is?”

  “Nothing yet. I’ve seen some terrible killings, Maura, but this was one of the most violent. She’d been raped, also, poor thing.”

  “Dear God…” From the stairway, I could see Mum’s face cringe. Despite hearing the horrors of Dad’s job every day, she had never managed to immunize her feelings. “People will be expecting you to catch this monster – and quickly.”

  Dad looked annoyed at Mum. “I’ve never rushed an investigation, just to calm people’s fears. That’s how mistakes are made. I won’t be changing my ways just because of pressure.”

  “Of course not. I wouldn’t expect you—”

  Suddenly, they both looked up in my direction.

  “Tommy? What the hell are you doing?” said Dad. He looked startled. “Were you listening in?”

  “The girl, Dad? What… what did she look like?” I was slowly walking down the stairs.

  “You shouldn’t be listening—”

  “What did she look like!”

  “Tommy! Don’t you dare shout at your father!”

  Dad reached and touched Mum’s hand. “It’s okay, Maura. Sometimes it’s good to shout.” He was looking at me entirely different to the way Mum was. The cop in him was quickly kicking in. “Sit down and have breakfast, Tommy.”

  “I don’t want breakfast. What… what did she look like?”

  “She had dark hair, crapped page-boy style. Blue eyes. Her face was covered in—”