Thriller Mystery 3 Book Set

by Athena Dorsey

  He turns his neck to look for a suitable place they can move to. Thank God there is a huge sofa behind him. It's some length away from where they are standing. The distance to the sofa seems long. How will the lethargic Jane afford to move all this distance to arrive at this point. Mark tries to make her move but she isn’t willing’. Probably she is weak, and her tired body needs assistance.

  He finally decides. All in one, he lifts her up, makes two strides and slowly drops he on the sofa. She weakly sits on the chair leaning backward. Mark still goes on to control the erotic environment. He is the duo’s pilot.

  In her seated form, Mark looks at her almost closing eyes. Her breath seems to be accompanied with difficult. She is now breathing louder as if she is short of air. Her blouse is incomplete. She had it buttoned even in school. Who unbuttoned the top two buttons? Nature is now on the surface. The two continue exploring each other. It takes some minutes to roughly an hour. They start sleeping on the sofa. They must all be tired. And tomorrow they will be sitting for their exams. The two have been reading hard throughout the semester. Failing is an experience they haven’t known.

  It is at 11.00 p.m. Jane wakes Mark, who is snoring on the sofa. "Mark, the door is open." He gets up faster and runs to the door, only to bang it once. They start laughing when he comes back to the seat. “Why are you laughing?”, Mark asks.

  “And why are you laughing in the first place” the two laugh again. These must be like children. Whenever they look into each other’s eyes, an uncontrollable laugh takes over. They haven't taken supper, and they are all hungry. Jane wanted to go home. At such a night?

  As they are pondering over what to do, a call comes in. Rodgers is calling her. She looks weary and moves to the bathroom to receive the call. She talks with a very low tone in the quite environment of the New York City. Maybe Mark isn’t listening to the conversation. What can they be talking about in the night in her fiancée’s house? Why is she running away from Mark? Mark must be worried. Something may be cooking in the kitchen.

  She comes back and the two continues from where they had stopped. Supper is ready. They take the food and blaze it with romantic moments. She is leaning on her lover’s back as they eat. They are looking in opposite directions.

  In the morning, they take a shower together. “Make sure you are clean,” Mark tell her. “ I don’t want you to embarrass me in front of my colleagues. “I need to be a man before them.” They two continue in the cold hours of the morning. They rush to prepare a cup of coffee and start taking it. It seems they are doing one thing at a time together.

  After some few minutes, they are ready to go. A call comes in from Rodgers. Mark receives the call from his phone. The two talk in an attempt to know how the night was.

  “Did you tell him that I slept at your place?” Jane asks her fiancée who responds negatively. They close the door and move straight into the car. It takes only a few minutes before they enter their schools compound. Jane’s exams are supposed to end in the late hours of the morning. It's Mark, who will leave school, late. Even his friend Rodgers may not be there when Mark finishes his exams in the evening. Rodgers is Jane’s classmate.

  After the exams of the day end in the evening, Mark takes his books that were hanging at his classroom’s verandah and takes off. It’s when he starts thinking as usual. “I haven’t visited my best friend for several days. This is not what friendship should be... I must pass through my friend’s place. He may even give me a lift.”

  He walks slowly as he disappears through the college gate. He continues walking on the road as he heads towards Rodgers’ home. In a matter of minutes, he is at the door. As usual, he enters his friend's house without knocking. Rodgers can’t remember when his friend knocked his door last among his many visits.

  “What!” The surprised Mark stares at two people in their natural suits. “He is with a woman?” Mark doesn’t know what to do.

  The Mark and his lover’ are surprised. Do they run or wear their clothes first? They are lying on the bed as the surprised Mark stares at them. She is nervous and doesn’t know what will happen. Being among two men driven by adrenaline is very dangerous.

  As they are still staring at the standing Mark, he moves and picks something. What is it? It is a vegetable knife. It’s not clean. They may have used it in preparing lunch. But how did it come in the bedroom?

  Jane screams loud as she collapses in Rodger’s hands. She is naked and in pain. What Mark remembers is his move and insertion of the sharp object into her abdomen. Blood gushes to the floor from the sofa that soaks some. It's coming from her belly. She finally keeps quiet and closes her eyes. Her body starts cooling as the surprised tow look at each other. They all seem to be worried.

  What follows is a mystery.

  >>>> The End <<<<

  The Ruthless Killer

  Timmy thought it was odd that Carrie’s Father didn’t want anyone to know about the Sunday driving lesson. He churned it over and over in his head, Mister. Cross’s reasoning for the secrecy. “Your friends will be as mad as wet hens if they fail to pass and they find out you passed because you had an extra lesson. I can just hear my Carrie, But Dad, you gave Timmy private lessons, but not your own Daughter?’ Whoo! That gal can be jealous. But you know her. You and her are tight like a drum aren’t you?”

  That explanation sounded reasonable to Timmy. Kids at South High tended to act like crabs in a barrel. If half of Mister Smith’s Trig Class was failing, they all had to fail. Shining stars weren’t tolerated. And Mister Cross was right about his daughter Carrie. Most kids shied away from Carrie, partly because of him and his crazy love for chasing butterflies all over the neighborhood. But she also had a jealous streak that was about as green as her hair. Girls didn’t stay friends with her very long. Even other lesbian girls fell victim to her rants and arm twisting because she had caught them talking to boys or other girls. But Mr. Cross had put his hand on his shoulder in a most fatherly way. Or was that creepy, Timmy wondered? The hand lingered a moment longer than it should and squeezed harder than it should have, as if it was a massage.

  If only he could see better, Timmy thought to himself as he looked deep into his blue eyes while he brushed his teeth. He knew he needed glasses. That’s why he squinted and held books far from his face as he read. He heard his Mother cough. He listened as she hacked and gasped for air. Then there was silence. Timmy’s toothbrush rested against his left molar. He was about to yank the brush out of his mouth and run to his Mother’s room, but she cleared her throat. He continued brushing. “Another false alarm,” he said to himself. He didn’t want to bother her about his eyes. Lord knows she had had enough problems of her own with a breathing disorder so bad it had placed her in a scooter. Money was tight. He had to pass his driving test. She had scrimped and saved the one hundred and seventy-five dollars in a pickle jar for him to take Driver’s Education. He had to do all he could to keep from failing. But as much as he wanted to be a man at that moment, he also knew his Mother insisted on knowing his goings and comings. Even at sixteen, she warned him as if he was six, about getting into stranger’s cars. But Mister Elliot Cross was no stranger and he wasn’t like Mister Slaughter who lived in the pinkish house two doors down from him. Carrie’s dad chased butterflies, not boys.

  “Maybe I should tell Mom,” Timmy thought, as he stood in front of her closed door. He had his hand on the knob when he heard her begging his Aunt Peggy for a ride to the grocery store. Timmy turned, grabbed his jacket and cellphone, and headed out the door to meet Mister Cross.

  He thought of sneaking a smoke as he stood behind the abandoned shopping plaza where Mister Cross had insisted they meet. It was a windy day and scraps of paper blowing aimlessly about under the azure sky made him feel melancholic. His gum chewing didn’t help his nerves. He thought of getting on his cellphone and texting or calling Carrie. However he was afraid he might open his mouth and say something about the secret driving lesson. His stomach fluttered and growled. As soo
n as he put his hand on the pack of cigarettes in his back pocket, he saw the car swing around the corner. It was Mister Cross’s big blue Buick. Timmy wished it had been the little green Mustang that was going to be Carrie’s. He thought how much fun it would be to tell her he got to drive her Sweet Sixteen birthday present before she could sit behind the wheel. He knew he would have to dodge her fist, but the look on her face would have been worth the trouble. Mister Cross waved to him as he drove up. When he stopped the car, Timmy opened the door to climb into the passenger seat, but Mr. Cross motioned for him to come around the driver’s side. He opened the door and told Timmy to slide in. “You’re the chauffer, sport. I’m going to slide in the back so I can see everything you do.” He sensed Timmy’s hesitation. “We can’t be too careful. Those idiots at the DPS watch everything, even the way you’re chewing that gum there.” Timmy spit out the gum and slid behind the wheel, while Elliot propped himself in the back seat. “Make a left by that sign, then make a right,” he instructed.

  It had been a pleasant lesson and Timmy felt grateful. Mister Cross had determined it was his bad eyes that made him overshoot or come up short at stop signs.

  “You have to learn to use markers and count. Everything in life has a marker marking its spot in relation to other crap. That’s how the blind get along in this world. They constantly count and mark where every footstep goes before their toes hit the table leg or they step off the curb. See that tree right before the stop sign? That’s your marker. When there ain’t no car in front of you, things like trees, bushes, cracks in the road, a house or a bum holding a sign is going to be your marker. Watch your marker and start counting backwards from five to one.”

  Timmy had stopped perfectly at the stop signs each time he followed Mister Cross’s advice. He was so happy, he felt dizzy as if he had drank a beer. There was silence in the car and Timmy wasn’t sure if the lesson was over as he drove aimlessly down the long road. A few old tires lay by the side of the road and an empty refrigerator with its door gapped caught his attention. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw Elliot staring at it as they passed.

  “A man is a good marker,” Elliot said abruptly enough to startle Timmy. “It’s the way we compare ourselves against other SOB’s. When you’re running a race, the guy in front of you is your marker. He gives you something to strive for. If you open a business when you grow up, your competition is your marker. When I was in sales, all of those guys at desks with phones growing out of their ears, were my markers. Gotta beat Kramer. Gotta get ahead of Schmidt. Gotta make my numbers.’ My heart beat to the ruckus in my head. I had headaches all the time. Almost had a heart attack. Since I’ve been a Hospital Orderly, the headaches are gone. The Ol’ lady is gone too. Couldn’t deal with the dip in my income. But that’s all right. I got my Carrie and I got my butterflies. There’s more to life than pussy.”

  Timmy watched in the rearview mirror as Elliot smiled and ran his tongue over his top lip.“Sometimes it’s okay to do as well as the next man. Sometimes you want to do better. You watch and compare. You find little ways to fuck somebody (excuse my language) to get ahead. But you know who else is a marker?” Timmy shrugged his shoulders. “You’re a marker, Timmy. Somebody got their eye sights on you. They’re measuring themselves against you. Your classmates are expecting you to fail. Carrie told me you’re the worst one in the Driver’s Ed class. You’re the most disadvantaged. Your Ma, she don’t have a car and she’s sickly. So how could you get good practice time? You’re the smallest boy in your class. You could pass for twelve. And them eyes of yours--I bet every day it’s foggy for you. I said to myself, I’m going to make these South High punks out of liars.’ Timmy, unless God’s got other plans, you’re going to get a perfect score on your driving test tomorrow. You’re going to be the marker those punks look up to now.”

  Timmy had slowed the car to a crawl. Hearing what the other kids thought of him and hearing Elliot pitying him and his Mother, stiffened his arms and his eyes glazed with bitterness. There was a large rock in the road. The Buick’s front tire brushed it and the car shook and bolted to the left. Timmy jerked the wheel. Elliot slid in the back seat. “You okay, Sport?” Elliot asked as he readjusted himself behind Timmy. “Sorry. Yeah, Mister Cross, I’m fine. “This is a mighty big machine. Let me know if it’s getting to be too much.” “I’m really okay, Mister Cross,” Timmy said with a hint of irritation .“Okay. Cool. We’ll pull over in a minute.”

  Timmy drove on. The purple horizon dipped to meet the road far away. He thought of asking if he could turn on the radio. The car’s droning wheels and what Elliot had just told him stirred up his melancholy. He felt so small and powerless in the world. He wanted to be a machine. A powerful machine of iron jaws and steel muscles--a machine like this car. That’s what he needed he told himself. A car would make him a man. A car would put him in the big leagues, ahead of the leagues even. Not too many football players had their own car. They had girls and their parent’s cars. He would have girls and his own car. That’s why he had a morning paper route and an after school job at the mall.

  He didn’t ask, he quietly reached over and turned the radio knob. He looked in the rearview mirror. Mister Cross appeared to be in deep thought as he stared out the window. He and Carrie’s favorite song played through the speakers. “I kissed a girl and I liked it.” He thought of the few girls he would kiss when he bought a car. He would bring them to this road after dark and park. He wanted a big car like this Buick with its big back seat that held a big man like Elliot Cross. What he could do to a girl in a back seat like that, Timmy imagined. He began to name to himself all of the girls in his homeroom class he could get into a backseat.

  His heart thumped when Mister Cross shouted for him to stop up the road a bit. Elliot got out and walked around to the front of the car. Timmy watched as he peered around. His apprehension lifted when he saw him open his pants and prepare to take a leak Elliot looked through the windshield at him. Timmy looked off. When Timmy looked again, Elliot shook vigorously, tucked himself in, and zipped up. He climbed into the back seat and they sat for a moment. Timmy listened as he breathed hard. Timmy twitched and stirred in the driver’s seat. Elliot offered a cigarette. But Timmy refused. Even though he wanted one so bad he bit his fingernails. He watched Elliot peer out the window as if he was looking for someone. “Should we be heading back home, Mister Cross?” “Yeah in a minute, let me tie my shoes real good.”

  Timmy felt a thump in his back as Elliot’s head brushed the front seat. Then he felt Elliot’s hot breath on his neck as the man suddenly rose, shouted something about a deer in front of the car and pointed. Timmy saw the belt’s shadow slip past his eyes before it gripped his neck like a claw. He raised his buttocks off the seat as he grabbed his throat. His nails tore at Mr. Cross’s hands, but Elliot’s hands were shielded by rough thick gloves. Timmy’s fingernails broke as he clawed. He glanced at the man through the rearview mirror. The massive red face frowned at him, before relaxing into a smile. Timmy felt the belt loosen a little around his neck.

  Elliot’s voice droned in Timmy’s right ear. The “yes sirs” that slipped out of Timmy’s mouth came from far away. Mister Cross’s words roared in his ear like a raging river. He caught snatches of talk about boys and God. Was it God who thought boys were liars and killers? Why was God jealous of him driving a car? Elliot made little sense to Timmy. All he knew was that he had to get that belt from around his neck. The ends of it were wrapped around a pipe and held by one of Mister Cross’s stout hands. Elliot’s other hand was balled into a fist and jammed against his neck like a rock. Timmy bucked again. The belt tightened and a calm voice told him to take it easy. “You’re not fighting me. Timmy. You’re fighting the man upstairs. Your bucking is making him mad. He’s old, bent over, and weary with the troubles of this world. Seeing you buck like this is just making him more mad and more jealous of you young snots. First it was your silly dream of driving a car. Now it’s this boy foolishness of bucking like a
young bull. You got a lot of steam in you--all that steam for a young gal’s pussy. God’s jealous of you, boy. Calm down. Don’t make him any madder than he already is.”

  Timmy started to cry. Tears and snot ran down his chin. Mister Cross cooed softly in his ear. He switched hands and held the belt in his left fist. With the other hand he grabbed a tissue out of the box between the front seats and wiped Timmy’s eyes and nose. A butterfly floated across the hood of the car. Suddenly Timmy’s eyes bulged as if they were going to pop out of their sockets. The butterfly appeared like a red beast in the windshield. Timmy heard his mother crying softly in the telephone.

  Everything went black.

  Elliot Cross got out of the back of the car. He pulled Timmy’s body out of the front seat and kicked it into a ditch. He watched it roll and come to rest with the head near a rusty tin can. A red cigarette pack peeked from the boy’s back pocket. Elliot turned to get back into the car and noticed the cellphone lying on the ground. He picked it up and threw it as far as he could. It hit a tree and splintered. Elliot got back into the car, stuffed the used tissue in his pocket, and turned off the radio. As he drove down the road, a flock of butterflies rose up in front of his car. A stench hit his nostrils. He looked over to his right and butterflies floated near a dead dog.

  Free Full Length Story

  Dr. Greene and the Time Travel Machine

  …Synopsis…Book 1

  Dr. Greene swallowed hard. The machine had finally gone silent and that was supposed to be a good thing. But as far as he was concerned, it was his very first experiment and it goes without saying that anything could pretty much go awry. And if the latter would have been the case, then all years of working hard would have just gone down the toilet, something that he just couldn’t bear to witness.