by Jada Ryker
The group rule was to not interrupt a member who is talking during small group. Marisa couldn’t help violating the rule. “Did the parents report him to the police?” Marisa burst out.
William shook his head, his face twisted with hurt and pity. “He lied to the couple and told them he didn’t know what came over him. He tearfully told them that he’d never done anything like that before. He swore to the parents he would get counseling, if only they didn’t report him.”
William looked around the table. “When he told me about it, my friend laughed. He said to me, ‘How are they going to monitor that? They won’t. I got away with it, no arrest, no trial, and no jail time. They didn’t even tell me I couldn’t come back over to their house!’ He was crowing over it!
“When people think of a pedophile, they equate the word with a crazed, slavering monster. They don’t think a pedophile is educated or professional or could look just like them. In actuality, a pedophile could be your relative, your neighbor, your priest, your child’s teacher...”
William stared steadily at Marisa. “When I began coming to this group, you were nice to me. You welcomed me as a new group member. You smiled at me. You hugged me in a caring and nurturing way.
“A few weeks after I’d started the group, you and I had our first small group. I shared my conviction for child molestation. I saw your attitude change right before my eyes. Your manner toward me chilled, you went out of your way to avoid me, and I could forget about any trace of warmth or nurturing from you.”
William banged his fists on the table.
Marisa felt Alex jump next to her. Fred roused from his sulky reverie.
William’s entire body shook. “I see a therapist twice a week. I come to these meetings every single night. I volunteered for chemical castration. I go and get blood drawn to show that I’m taking the medication, and keep myself accountable. It’s been seven years since I committed the crime of molestation.” His eyes filled with tears. “Who the hell are you to judge me?” His mouth was a slash of pain in his contorted face.
Alex leaped to his feet. His fury was radiating from him in waves.
Before he could speak, Marisa laid her hand on his tense arm. She applied pressure until he subsided into his seat.
“You’re right, William. I was judging you by your past. I was wrong. I apologize.”
William bowed his head once. “Thank you, I accept your apology.”
“However.” She waited until William met her eyes. “I apologized. You accepted. That does not mean we have lunch. That does not mean we go shopping together. That does not mean we hang out and watch TV.” Marisa rose from her chair and leaned threateningly across the table. “If you molest another child, Alex and I will kill you.”
Alex made a strange little squeaking sound. Fred cleared his throat.
Marisa fell back into her chair. “What are we going to do about your friend?”
William gripped the table so hard his hands were white. “What can we do? He’s not only gotten away with molesting her, he’ll also sell her pictures to others who buy child porn, and actually make a profit. I can’t even tell the police! It’s my word against his. I’m a convicted sex offender. Who will believe me?”
Marisa’s mind was racing. “We believe you. We can stop him.”
Alex pushed Marisa’s foot with his under the table.
She ignored the frantically nudging foot.
William gazed at Marisa in shock. “What can we do?”
“Alex and I are members of an online group. In that group, someone is involved with child pornography. Your friend is also involved in it.” Marisa spoke slowly, reasoning it out. “We have to do something to stop it. We know both buyers and sellers of child pornography run incredible risks. Not only is selling child porn a crime, but also possession of it is a crime. Therefore, I think both buyers and suppliers must rely on word of mouth.”
Marisa turned to Alex and Fred. “But William could penetrate that circle, not only with his friend but also the online group. With his picture and statistics on the Sex Offender online list, his acceptance is nearly guaranteed. His registered sex offender status is his entrance ticket to buy child porn. He may even uncover other groups.”
Fred interjected, “It might just work.” He perked up. “I could go with him as his partner. I can take The Library in case there’s trouble.”
Alex raised his hands, palms out. “Wait a minute. William, you would have to pose as a buyer of child pornography. You’re a convicted sex offender. Doesn’t that mean if you’re caught buying or selling it, you’ll automatically go to jail?”
William straightened his chair. He raised his chin. “Yes, you’re right. But this is important. I’ll have to take the risk.”
Marisa stood up, and walked around the table to stand beside William. Thinking of Dreamus and his role in Tara’s online group, she said, “I am positive we can keep you from going to jail. Of course, that doesn’t eliminate all the risks. These people are desperate, and I believe they may have already killed at least one person. Are you sure you want to help us find the person who is running the child porn ring?”
When he reached out a hand to shake hers, Marisa hesitated a moment, then gave it a quick, hard shake.
As the small groups made their way back to the initial meeting room for the closing, Alex hissed in her ear. “We’re trying to solve a murder, not conspire to commit one!”
“Owwww!” Marisa rubbed her ear. “Do you have to hiss like that? It’s very juvenile.”
“Marisa! You volunteered me to help you kill him if he molests anyone—” Alex’s teeth were clenched. “You are driving me mad—” He took several deep breaths. “And you brought him into the investigation without consulting the police. What is Dreamus going to say when you tell him you went behind his back and used his authority—”
Marisa stood up. “Hold on, Alex...the big group is reconvening.”
As they sat in the circle for ending comments prior to the closing prayer, Marisa’s mind was focused on the logistics of William’s infiltration of the child porn ring.
The door of the meeting room exploded open, bouncing off the wall.
The intruder was wearing a black ski mask and baggy gray sweatshirt. And nothing else.
The Streaker.
Next to her, Alex grunted. Surprise, horror, and a male “ewwww” all communicated themselves in the single sound.
The half-naked man began his jog around the circle. What had been a small, shrunken organ at the last meeting was now a fully erect member, swinging rather than jiggling.
Marisa felt her fury begin in the pit of her stomach and rage up her body. He was victimizing them with his little exhibitions, and she was sick of it.
With a screech, Marisa jumped up. Her chair fell backward behind her. At the same time, Alex sprang from his chair like an unleashed jungle cat.
Like a pair of feral hunters, the two of them raced around the circle.
The predator became the prey. He threw his hands up in mute supplication.
No force on earth could have stopped Alex and Marisa.
They barreled into the interloper.
In a tangle of arms and legs, the three went down.
Marisa and Alex landed on top of him. While Alex pinned their quarry to the floor, Marisa wriggled and squirmed until she could get her hand on the ski mask. With a triumphant cry, she ripped it off.
She looked into the face. Her mouth dropped open. “Shane!” The one word held Marisa’s anguish.
Shane. The young man who drooped over his chair during the sporadic meetings he attended, looking as boneless as a cat. A quiet, withdrawn man with delicate, boyish features, he easily shed tears during emotional sharing by other members.
The youthful face crumpled into itself.
Marisa untangled herself from him and Alex.
Fred silently offered Shane his worn jacket.
As Shane tied it around his waist, he turned toward the door.
Marisa caught his arm. “Shane—”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, everybody.” He swiped at his freely running nose. “I guess I just got tired of being the victim all of the time. I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve been beat up by guys, either because I mistook them for being gay or because they wanted rough sex with me.”
Fred opened his mouth to respond, but incredibly, Alex beat him to it. “People aren’t divided into two categories, either victim or abuser. Just because you stop being a victim doesn’t mean you have to morph into an abuser. Real life is not a straight line or even solid line. It’s a dotted line that meanders a lot. Taking control of your life doesn’t give you the right to hurt other people.” Alex picked up the ski mask from the floor. “You don’t need this to keep from being a victim.”
Out in the parking lot, Alex eyed Marisa. “Are all the meetings like that? Dramatic revelations and horrendous scars, joining forces with a known pedophile, and half-naked men running around?” Alex leaned against the side of his silver Celica. In front of the car, his motorcycle was parked at an angle to the curb.
“No, they’re actually normally rather dull.”
“I’m sorry I stumbled into the group, Marisa. I invaded your privacy.” Alex scuffed his running shoe in some loose gravel on the pavement.
“No, it’s my fault, the meeting started before I could tell you.” Marisa found some fascinating gravel of her own to scuff with her sandal. “Umm, you’re probably wondering why I was in a sexual addiction meeting...”
Alex straightened up and raised both hands. “No, Marisa. I meant what I said about real life not being a straight line. It’s sometimes a dotted line and it’s definitely a meandering line. Regardless, I don’t have any business knowing where your line has weaved in the past.”
He held out his hand for the set of keys he had loaned Marisa earlier that day, since her car was incapacitated, and unlocked the driver’s door. “Let’s take the car to question Jake the Snake. When the sun sets in a couple of hours, it’ll cool off quickly. In your shorts and tank top, you’ll freeze on the bike.”
“Alex, please. I want to tell you.” Marisa searched for the right words. “You already know I lived a double life for years. I perceive my addicted self as a plate spinner, frantically juggling to keep them from falling and smashing around me.
“I had my ‘normal life’ plates to keep going, which were my career and my friend Althea. At the same time, I had to keep my ‘addictive life’ plates spinning, including the strip club, my former boyfriend, my dabbling with women, and of course drinking.
“If the crash hadn’t hit so dramatically, I’d probably still be spinning all the plates. When I thought I’d lost Tyme, the ten-year-old me, I was shocked into making radical changes.
“As I worked through rehab, I realized sex was somehow intertwined with the drinking and using painkillers. Just as I had to address both my addictions to alcohol and drugs, I also had to work on the sex addiction. I ended up in this group through the addiction counselor.”
Alex followed Fred with his eyes as the older man trudged past them to his car, The Library bouncing behind him. “Marisa, I think everyone has demons to battle. I don’t think it’s the nature of the addiction that counts. Rather, it’s how you deal with it that’s important. I admire you for the ways you deal with your demons.”
His face was introspective, and Marisa barely heard his last comment. “Perhaps I am one of those demons.” Tossing his keys up in the air and then catching them, he said, “Now let’s go deal with Jake the Snake.” He opened the passenger door for her.
Marisa didn’t move. “How do you even know where he lives?”
“Simple. When Brandon and I were checking out Taylor and found out her real name was Sarah, we also unearthed her address. Since Jake and Sarah lived together, then her address is also his.”
Marisa slid into the seat, and buckled her seat belt. “Alex, I really think this is a very bad idea. Jake the Snake scares me.”
Alex laughed. “I didn’t think you were afraid of anything. I definitely have to meet anyone who can intimidate you.” He put his hand on the key.
“Umm, before you turn that key, I should probably tell you—”
He turned the key.
Alex had equipped his car with a state of the art stereo system and killer speakers. Disco music rattled the windows of the small car.
Alex stabbed his finger at the power button. “How could you abuse my sound system with such music?” Alex was outraged. He popped out the CD. “Greatest Disco Hits of the 70’s,” he read aloud. “Gee, I didn’t even know there were any great, let alone greatest, disco hits of the 70’s.”
Marisa pushed at his arm. “You don’t have to get sarcastic. I can’t help it if you can’t appreciate good music.”
Alex rolled his eyes. He reached into the CD holder on his sun visor. He selected a CD and slid it into the player. The car filled with the smooth sound of bluesy jazz.
Marisa reflected that when Jake the Snake killed them both, it would make a great jazz song. Or a wonderful country and western song.
* * * * *
Alex’s hands were steady on the wheel. “What’s the difference between Cindy and William?”
Jake the Snake will kill us. Well, first he’ll disembowel us. Maybe use hot tongs on our— “What, Alex?”
“I heard Cindy talking about her affair with the fourteen-year-old boy and being registered as a sex offender. You and Cindy are obviously on very friendly terms. You didn’t threaten to kill her.”
Marisa rubbed her forehead. “What are you getting at?”
“Both Cindy and William have preyed on children. Why do you feel differently about one than the other?” Alex glanced over at her, then back at the road.
Marisa frowned, trying to clear her mind of the vision of Jake the Snake tying them to the wall, spread-eagled, and burning them with the cigarette that always hung from his mouth. “It’s just different.”
“Different how, Marisa?”
Marisa opened her mouth, and then closed it. She swallowed. “I started to say little girls don’t have options and you wouldn’t understand. But I’m being hypocritical. It’s not different. Children are children, regardless of gender. I’m sorry I tried to draw a line to differentiate between two crimes that are the same degree of wrong.”
Alex turned his head to meet her eyes. In the fleeting glance, Marisa thought she saw compassion. “Sometimes it’s difficult to see all the facets of an issue. And, Marisa, I understand more than you assume I do.”
Marisa felt tears in her throat, choking her.
His head whipped around. He slammed on the brakes, throwing them both against their seat belts. “Hey, that was our turn! You’re supposed to be the navigator, Marisa! Navigate!” He twisted the wheel and threw the car into a sharp U-turn.
“Jesus, Alex!” The tears retreated to their hiding place. “I think I’m more scared of your driving than Jake the Snake!”
Alex squealed into the turn.
“Jake the Snake is a desperate and dangerous man, Alex. There have been rumors about him at the strip club for years. It was common knowledge he abused Sarah and cheated on her. The other rumors were darker. Some said he was a hired killer for anyone with someone they wanted murdered and enough money to pay him. There was also talk he bought and sold drugs to adults and children.”
Alex glanced around. The trailer park was packed with mobile homes as close together as cars in a parking lot. Most of the miniature yards behind the homes held old cars and trucks jacked up on blocks. Dented washers and dryers filled many of the tiny porches. “It appears crime doesn’t pay very well.”
Marisa squinted, looking for numbers on the trailers. Only about one in five had a number. “By process of elimination, I think that’s it.”
Rusted and dented, the single-wide mobile home sat crookedly on the miniscule lot. In the gap between the trailer’s bottom and the ground, the rotted wh
eels were visible, along with trash and debris. Patches of bare ground alternated with knee-high weeds to form the yard.
As they walked along the planks that formed a makeshift sidewalk, Alex pointed to a circle, within in which lay several depressed petunias. “What the heck is that?”
Marisa smiled slightly. “It’s an old tractor tire, minus the rim, painted white. It’s a sort of homemade flower bed. Don’t you remember, there were a couple of those in my yard when I was a kid. We found some at the town dump and dragged them back home. I dug up wildflowers from the woods and planted them inside the tires.”
As they climbed the peeling wooden steps in front of the door, the steps lurched to the side. The sudden movement threw Marisa heavily against Alex. They teetered until Alex managed to right them both.
Alex knocked hard on the dented door. Rust flew. He inspected his knuckles. “I may need a tetanus shot after this.”
The door creaked slightly open.
Alex and Marisa looked at each other.
“I have a really bad feeling about this, Alex.”
Alex pulled the door open.
The smell of rotting food and garbage took their breath and made them both cough. Clothes, trash bags, papers, and magazines were strewn everywhere. The table in the miniature kitchen was covered with plates of partially eaten food. The sink was piled high with uneven towers of dirty dishes.
Marisa turned to the living room.
When she saw a pair of shoes, she didn’t think anything was strange. Then she noticed the shoes were attached to legs. Marisa gasped, “Oh, my God!”
Jake the Snake was never going to get a chance to try for a spread in Better Homes and Gardens. He was sprawled on the couch among the clothes and papers. The right side of his head was a mangled mass of blasted meat and shiny wet blood. His one remaining eye was half open. The fingers of his right hand loosely held a pistol.
