by Sean Platt
“Ah, I figured as much. Either a chef or a murderer. The right tool for the right job, am I right, Wesley?”
Wes nodded, looking down at the blood trickling from his cut.
“Don’t worry; it’s only a flesh wound. You ever see that Monty Python bit? Man, they don’t make comedy like that anymore, eh?”
Wes stared up at Jasper, angry and confused.
Just where Jasper wanted him.
“Okay, okay, I get it. Enough chitter chatter. You want to get down to business. Let’s do it. I’m here about an old friend of yours. Might you guess who I’m inquiring about?”
“I haven’t a clue.”
Jasper made a buzzing sound. “Wrong answer, Wesley.”
He swung the knife swiftly just under the last cut, giving it a twin.
“Fuck!” Wes cried, glaring at Jasper. “Just tell me what you want!”
Jasper stood in front of the man, just far enough that he couldn’t reach if he tried to kick him. “I want an answer. Where is Paul Dodd?”
Jasper watched the man’s face and saw that glimmer of recognition mixed with a bit of oh shit, that’s why you’re here in his eyes.
Jasper moved to Wes’s side, holding the blade near his chest. “You’re not going to insult my intelligence and pretend that you don’t know who Paul Dodd is, are you?”
Wes shook his head.
“Good. Now tell me where he is.”
“I don’t know.”
Jasper closed his eyes and sighed. “Really? You’re going to make me cut you again?”
“I swear, I don’t—”
Jasper sliced him on his left leg. Not too bad, but certainly painful.
Wes screamed.
Jasper wasn’t too worried about noise. The home was large and on nearly an acre. Plus, there were landscapers at work on two of the three closest houses, so plenty of machines to drown them out.
Jasper looked down at the injury and the blood spilling all over Wes’s once-gleaming kitchen floor.
“Man, you are making such a mess.”
“I said I don’t know where Paul is. We haven’t spoken in years.”
Jasper shook his head. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”
“I swear.”
Jasper held up his finger. “Don’t go anywhere.”
This time he took the knife with him, heading upstairs to search Wes’s home office. Sitting on his desk, Jasper spotted a laptop, open to email.
He grabbed the laptop, carried it downstairs, still open, and set it on the kitchen island with the knife beside it. Then he searched Wes’s email, right there in front of him.
“What are you doing?”
“Just checking to see if you have anything from Paul.”
“I already told you I haven’t talked to him in years. Why are you even looking for him?”
“Oh, you haven’t heard? He kidnapped a little girl.”
“What?” Wes said, eyes wide.
Jasper wasn’t sure if the man was feigning shock or not.
“I swear, I don’t know anything about him taking a girl.”
Jasper smiled. “I’d like to believe you, but it’s hard to trust a pedophile.”
“I’m not a pedophile.”
Jasper picked up the knife, “Do we need to play this game again?”
Wes flinched. “I’m not a pedophile anymore. I go to therapy.”
Jasper slowly lowered the blade. “So, you’re saying I won’t find any child pornography on your laptop?”
“Heavens no!” Wes said, as if deeply offended.
Jasper laughed. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” Wes said, glaring at Jasper, practically challenging him.
Jasper pulled a flash drive from his pocket and plugged it into the USB port on the computer’s side.
“What are you doing?” Wes asked.
“I find it hard to believe that a pedo can change his spots. Yeah, you might lay low for a while. Maybe you don’t rape a kid for a few months. Maybe even a few years. And bravo, society thanks you, sir. But surely you still look, even if you can’t touch, right?”
“I told you I’m in therapy. I have a girlfriend.”
“That’s nice. Is she in high school?”
“No. She’s a woman. We’re getting married. I’ve changed.”
“Here’s the thing about that,” Jasper said, still holding his smile, “pedophiles aren’t exactly known for changing. I get it. You can’t help liking what you like. But … I’m thinking that most people won’t understand when they see the sorts of things you’ve been looking at online.”
“I told you, I’m not looking at shit!”
“You sure about that?” Jasper turned the laptop so that Wes could see the horrifying images and videos that Jasper was loading from his flash drive onto the computer.
Wes’s eyes looked ready to roll from their sockets.
“No! I didn’t download that shit. You’re putting it on my computer!”
“Yeah, I don’t think the police will believe you. How about your girlfriend? What do you think she’s going to think?”
“Fuck you.”
“Wrong answer,” Jasper said with another buzzing. He grabbed the blade, walked back over to Wes, and sliced him across his right bicep.
Wes screamed.
“Don’t be such a baby. These are all minor wounds. You like minors, right?”
Wes glared at him, gritting his teeth, holding back on whatever he wanted to spit.
Jasper closed the laptop and removed his thumb drive.
“Okay, Wesley, are you familiar with ransomware?”
Wes shook his head.
“Well, the short of it is, your computer is now infected with a virus that has locked all your data. You can’t unlock or wipe it. You can’t do anything until I give you the key. I took the liberty of loading some of this stuff to the cloud, too, just in case you think getting rid of your computer will save you. In short, I own you.”
“Please,” Wes begged, tears spilling from his eyes, “I told you, I’m a changed man.”
“Well, now’s your chance to prove it. Help me find your old buddy, Paul. What better way to show the world you’ve changed than by being a hero? Helping to get a little girl back to her family? Nobody has to know I’m also blackmailing you to do the right thing. That’ll be our little secret.”
Wes stared at the ground, mulling the offer.
“Or you can be a good friend and go to jail for a long time. Your call, Wesley.”
Wes was bawling. “Let me call him. I’ll convince him to turn himself in and let the girl go.”
Jasper shook his head. “No. We’re past that point. He also killed three cops. There’s no way he’s going down without a fight. Hell, if he’s cornered, he’ll probably kill the girl before killing himself. I’m not willing to risk that.”
Wes kept his eyes on the ground.
Jasper put the blade on the counter, then came over to Wes. In his most soothing voice, just inches away he said, “Listen, man. I know you’re changing. Despite what I said, I do think people can change. Even pedophiles like you. I think you feel bad for what you did to Paul and his sister a long time ago. Probably like you owe him. Is that right?”
Wes nodded, not meeting Jasper's eyes.
“Yeah, I thought so. So now you feel almost guilty for turning him in. But that’s the best possible outcome. You obviously cared for him, right?”
“I loved him like a son.”
Jasper didn’t bother asking Wes if he considered fucking someone the same as loving them. It was time to play good — sympathetic — cop.
“Right. I get it. And you don’t want to see him dead, do you? Because that’s what will happen if you don’t tell me where he is. The cops will kill him. This is the only way he gets out alive. The only way that girl ever sees her family again. Come on, Wes, do the right thing.”
He looked up when Jasper called him Wes instead of the mocking Wesley. Then he nodde
d. “Okay. But if I help, I don’t want my name in the paper. I don’t want him to know it was me who gave him up.”
“That’s fine. We can do that.”
“And I want that shit off my computer.”
“Consider it done.”
“Okay, I own a piece of land in Hendricks, about an hour northwest of here. I bought it for Paul, as a gift to make up for what I did to him and his family.”
“What’s on this land? A house?”
“No, an underground bunker. It’s not too deep, but it is hard to find.”
“So how do I find it?”
“There’s a hidden folder on my computer. It has everything you need.”
Jasper opened the laptop, unencrypted the ransomware lock, and found the folder. He scanned the documents to make sure they were legit, dragged them to another flash drive, then scribbled the address in his notebook.
Jasper closed the laptop and returned to his spot in front of Wes. “Thank you, for doing the right thing.”
Wes nodded. “Can you let me go now? Please.”
Jasper turned and grabbed the Hanzo.
“You see, Wes, I’d love to believe that you’ve changed. I mean you came a long way today, and for that, I give you credit. But then I think about this,” he said waving his hands around, “how you’re up in this nice place after ruining so many lives. And that just doesn’t sit right with me.”
“I did my time,” Wes said, indignantly.
“Let’s talk about that, Wesley, shall we? How long a sentence did you get? Fifteen years, out in nine for good behavior? Now let’s look at the sentence your victims are still serving. Paul’s life is ruined. He killed at least one girl, which in turn destroyed her family. Now he’s about to murder another. And then there’s Katie, strung out on drugs, ruining her life. They, and countless others, are still serving for your crimes, while you’re living it here in your fancy gated community, with your girlfriend, acting like a changed man. But the way I see it, you’re still a pile of shit.”
Jasper glared at Wes.
He was breathing through his nostrils, his face red. Surely he wanted to explode, but didn’t dare upset the man holding a blade so close to his skin.
Jasper looked down at Wes’s shriveled manhood and shook his head. “Cock or balls, Wes — which is responsible for your sins?”
“What?”
“I asked which is responsible for your sins? I mean, you had to know in that thick skull of yours that it was wrong to be raping kids, right?”
Wes nodded.
“So, I’m thinking either your balls or your cock are to blame. And that’s the only way we’re gonna get any real change. Which is it?”
Wes shook his head. “No. You don’t have to. I swear I’ll never—”
Jasper yelled, “Pick one or I’m picking both, just to be on the safe side.”
“No, please—”
“Your choice,” Jasper said, then plunged the blade, taking both.
* * * *
CHAPTER 46 - MALLORY BLACK
Mike and Mal arrived at Wes Richards’ house at 12:40 PM, meeting with a St. John’s County Sheriff deputy, Calvin Hodges — more leverage to question Wes if he didn’t want to play ball.
Hodges was a big black dude with a shiny dome and giant arms. He’d barely said a word, let alone smiled, since their arrival at the house. Clearly, he wasn’t happy to be out here.
Hodges knocked as Mal tried to look through the open window beside the front door into the house.
No answer.
Hodges knocked again.
Still nothing.
“I’ll head ‘round back,” Hodges said, “see if anyone’s home.”
Mike and Mal nodded, staying put at the front door.
“So,” Mal said, trying not to laugh, “you gonna be the good cop or bad?”
“Let Hodges be the good cop,” he joked.
Mal laughed. “Seriously, what’s his problem? You piss on his Corn Flakes this morning?”
“Not that I know of. Never even met the dude before today.”
“Well, he doesn’t like you,” Mal teased.
“Me? Maybe it’s you he doesn’t like, Mad Dog. Maybe he heard about your drunken brawls.”
Hodges appeared before she could make her smart-ass response, his eyes even more serious than before.
“You all need to check this out.”
They circled the side of the house while Hodges called in a signal seven to dispatch.
**
Hodges went inside to secure the scene. Since no one could search the house until the violent crimes unit could get a search warrant, Mike and Mal were shit out of luck.
Mike told Hodges to give him a call if he needed anything — he had to get back to the station. Hodges didn’t seem keen on having Mike and Mal bail after dropping a homicide in his lap, but he didn’t press the matter or make them stay.
Mike’s phone rang on their way to the cruiser.
Mal got into the car, waiting while he talked to someone at the precinct.
Mal looked at her phone and saw a voicemail from Ray. It was from last night, but the hectic morning kept it from notice.
She pressed play then listened to her ex.
“Hey, Mal. Just wanted to say I’m sorry how things went down. I didn’t mean to pressure you to sell the house. I want whatever’s best for you, and … well, even though we’re not together that doesn’t mean I stopped caring about you or stopped wanting the best for you. I’ll leave you alone. But if you need anything, anything at all, just reach out. I’m here for you.”
There was a long pause as if Ray wasn’t sure how to close the message. He was with someone else now, so he wasn’t about to say that he loved her or anything like that.
After a long moment, he awkwardly closed with, “Okay … bye.”
She smiled. He was still so clumsy, just like in high school.
She was the cool, artsy drama girl. He was the nerd into Dungeons & Dragons. On paper, they never should’ve worked. He certainly wasn’t the type of guy she’d been interested in before. She’d been into pretty boys with questionable sexuality and even more questionable fashion. Boys who were into the same music as her and seemed cool and mysterious.
Guys like Ray were dorks. Not enigmatic.
But they wound up sitting next to one another in art class. They didn’t talk much for the first few months. Why, she wasn’t sure. Maybe because Ray was so awkward, and she was lost in her own world, passing notes between classes, reading them, and doing all the other stupid things she did as a teenager.
On her fifteenth birthday, Ray handed her a charcoal sketch.
It was amazing.
And the first time anyone had ever drawn her. His attention to detail, not to mention the embarrassment on his face when she hugged him, was crushing.
They became friends.
It was nothing more than that for a long time, but they had a surprising amount in common. Far more than she ever would’ve thought before talking to him. They liked the same books and TV shows. They were both into art. He wasn’t into drama, but still, they had plenty of other things to talk about.
He was a closet Cure fan, and wanted to start a cover band, but didn’t have any other friends into that style of music.
The more Mal learned about Ray the more she liked him. But everything changed when she dated Vic Russo, the school quarterback. She wasn’t sure why, given her former infatuation with effeminate boys, she was dating a jock who treated her like shit.
Vic was insanely jealous of Ray.
One day, Vic and his boys saw her and Ray sitting together at lunch. He lost his shit because they “seemed a bit too close.”
With the wisdom of age, Mal knew that despite his machismo, Vic was secretly insecure. The type of boy who shrinks into an abusive man. But at the time she didn’t get it, thought maybe she’d done something wrong. So when Vic told her to choose between Ray or him, she had to let Ray go.
She di
dn’t do it overtly. She took the chickenshit way, avoiding him and withdrawing. It was easy to do in school since they only had art together. But it was harder on evenings and weekends, times they used to talk on the phone for hours or hang out at the park. Ray lived right around the block.
One weekend, Ray managed to catch her walking home from the store and offered her a ride in his new car.
One of Vic’s boys saw it.
That Monday in school, Vic and his boys beat him bloody.
Mal was hanging with her friend, Becki before school, when a sudden buzz circled the commons area and whispered turned into a roar — a fight outside!
They ran out and saw Vic and his boys pounding on Ray.
He never stood a chance.
For the first time, Mal saw how cruel Vic and his stupid jock friends were. She broke up with him on the spot and apologized to Ray for not being a better friend.
He confessed that he liked her. And though she’d never considered him boyfriend material before, something clicked. Maybe maturity. Maybe seeing him in a different light. Either way, they’d been in love since.
Madly.
More in love than she ever thought possible.
Years passed, and they each became absorbed in their jobs. They’d changed, even if neither wanted to admit just how much.
But it was too late to break up. They loved their daughter and had to find a way to make their family work.
Until they couldn’t.
Mike opened the car door, dragging Mal away from Memory Lane.
“We got something.”
“What?”
“You know the ride sharing service, Pik-Up?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, they had a driver pick up Paul Dodd last night.”
“I thought he ditched his phone.”
“I’m assuming he did as well, but he needed a valid Pik-Up account to get a ride, so he needed his phone one last time to leave town.”
“Where did they take him?”
“That’s the thing. They brought him out West and dropped him off at Holy Trinity Church.”
“A church?”
“That’s where they dropped him off, but that’s not where he went.”
“What do you mean?”
