“What do you do on the site?”
Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, I shrugged. “I don’t know…look around.”
“Ever talk to anybody?”
“Sure…sometimes.”
“Like who?”
“Different people, you know? There are message boards where a bunch of us get together and…talk.”
“About killing?”
I felt my patience being tested, but I didn’t get angry. She was curious. This was all new to her. Of course there would be a lot of questions.
“Sometimes we talk about killing,” I said. “Other times we talk about random things—movies we like, sports teams we like. Music, food.”
“Normal things.”
I laughed. “Yes, normal things.”
“Do you ever…post videos?”
“No.”
Jody looked relieved in the green glow of the dash lights. “Good.”
“I’ve watched a few. I don’t know…that’s not my thing, filming it.”
“I hope not. Somehow it makes it…icky.”
“Yeah. Icky’s a good word for it.”
“Will you show me the site?”
“If you want to see it.”
Jody was quiet a moment. “I think I do.”
“Then I’ll show it to you.”
We didn’t talk any more about Something Violent for the rest of the ride.
Jody directed me to where she lived—a single-wide in a small, broken-down trailer park. Nothing but shoddy tin dwellings inside the horseshoe-shaped neighborhood.
Her trailer was a small, two-bedroom structure, pockmarked with rusty holes and tarnished blots that spread like webbing. When my headlights swept across the front, I saw a storm door hanging askew by one hinge, in danger of falling off.
The door inside was open.
“Got a roommate?” I asked.
“No. And I didn’t leave the door open, if that’s what you were going to ask next. Glenn’s been here.”
“Most likely.”
“Most likely, my ass.”
I killed the engine, the lights. Grabbed my flashlight. Jody waited on me to open my door before she climbed out. Standing outside my car, I folded up the seat, leaned in, and found my baseball bat. Careful with the nails, I pulled it out, trying to avoid puncturing my backseat cushion.
Holding up the bat, I saw dark streaks of Glenn’s blood on the nails. It looked like strawberry jam in the moonlight. I planned to make sure the weapon finished the job this time.
Jody came around to my side, my knife clutched in a tight grip. The blade twinkled in the dark.
“Ready?” I asked.
“Think he’s still in there?”
“I don’t see a truck parked anywhere.”
Other than weed-choked grass that really needed to be mowed, Jody’s yard and driveway were empty.
“Do you have a car?” I asked.
“Yeah. It’s at my friend’s house.”
“Okay.” I turned around, bringing the bat up and gripping it high, minding the nails. Peering at the small single-wide, I noted the dark windows. The front doorway was dark. Tall bushes were spread around the front, deep shadows between them. Plenty of hiding places.
“Let’s go,” said Jody.
The stairs sagged under me as I climbed them. Sometimes they made soft groaning sounds. Approaching the door, I raised the flashlight, clicked it on. A bar of light stabbed through the black inside. I could feel the stuffy air of Jody’s trailer drifting outside. No A/C had been on in a long time, trapping the heat inside.
I turned the light this way and that. A coffee table had been turned over, its legs pointing up. I saw an old orange couch against the far wall, beneath a window. Sheer curtains hung like a ghost in front of the glass, the moonlight filling the fabric with an ethereal glow.
“Are we going in or standing out here all night?”
Jody’s unexpected voice made me flinch. I nearly dropped the flashlight. Though she’d barely brought her voice above a whisper, it had sounded like she’d shouted in my ear.
I gave her a look over my shoulder. Smiling bashfully, she chewed at her bottom lip. She mouthed, “Sorry.”
Bringing my attention back to the living room, I decided it was probably okay to enter.
“Light switch is to your left,” Jody said behind me.
Keeping the flashlight in my hand, I reached out, using the butt of the metal tube to bang the wall. There was a soft click, and light exploded in the room. From the darkness outside, it suddenly felt as if I were staring into the sun.
I entered first, Jody following.
“Shit,” she said. “What happened in here?”
“Trashed.”
“Well, duh, I see that much.” She started to sigh, but it escalated into a pitiful groan. “Why did they do this?”
“Who knows?” I nudged a stack of unopened bills with the toe of my shoe. Moving the sealed envelopes aside, I found a lingerie magazine buried underneath. Jody’s name was printed on the sticky label affixed to the front. I felt a tingle inside, picturing Jody wearing the same blue negligee as the woman on the cover.
Jody marched past me.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“To check the damage in the other rooms.”
“Hold on,” I said. I started to follow her, but she held up her hand to stop me.
“Nobody’s here but us,” she said. “But if by chance they are, I dare them to try fucking with me right now.”
Smiling, I held up my hands as if surrendering. I clicked off the flashlight. “I’ll wait here.”
Sitting on the couch, I leaned the bat beside me. I felt a cold dampness seeping through my pants and jumped up. I patted the back of my jeans. Though it was faint, I felt a patch of wetness. Then I caught a whiff of an ammonia-like odor, reminding me of a public restroom.
Piss. I’d sat in piss.
Either Glenn, Stacey, or both, had pissed on Jody’s couch.
Jody entered the living room, face flushed with anger. She still wore her bikini and I was grateful she hadn’t put on clothes yet. Her skin looked golden brown under the light coming from the immobile ceiling fan. “There’s jizz all over my bedsheets. Found some of my panties scattered across the mattress, too.”
“Somebody pissed on your couch.”
Jody stared at me. “Wonderful.” Looking away, she stared at the floor. Her furrowed brow pushed against her eyes, nearly concealing them in her frustration. Then her eyes turned to zeroes. Her mouth dropped open. “Look!”
I followed her gaze to her bag on the floor, lying on its side on top of some plastic grocery bags that still held canned goods inside.
Squatting beside her bag, Jody pulled it between her legs. As she rummaged around inside, I enjoyed the way her back flexed, how her ass jutted above her folded legs, how her thighs looked tight and meaty at the same time. Yes, I knew I shouldn’t be thinking about those things in our situation. A woman with such unique beauty made it hard to think about anything else.
“Everything’s in here,” she said. “My money, cards, ID. Phone. Everything.”
“They didn’t want anything out of there.”
“What do they want?”
“Same as me. You.”
Looking over her shoulder, Jody smiled. I could see her face from the side, and noticed her cheeks dimpled. “I hope you want me for other reasons.”
“A lot more reasons. You got away from them, and they probably think we’re working together somehow.”
“We are.”
I smiled. “Yes, now. But we weren’t then. But if I was in their place, I’d think we were working together. And like them, I’d want retribution.”
She sighed. “I would want retribution too.”
“But I won’t let them get you. You’re with me now.”
Jody smiled. “Good to hear.” Turning away, she stuffed everything back in her bag, and stood. “I want to take a shower,” she said.
/>
“Not here. We should probably get moving.”
“Why don’t we wait for them to come back? They’ll come back, won’t they?”
“Probably.”
“So let’s hang around until they do.”
“No. This’ll need to be finished elsewhere. Not where you live.”
“But my shower’s here.”
“I know, but we should get out of here.”
“Well, where do you suggest I take one?”
“My place,” I said.
“Oh?”
“In Fieldsville.”
“But I have work tomorrow.”
“You’re quitting.”
“Am I, now?”
“Yep. There’s no Honkers in Fieldsville, so you can’t transfer.”
“But I get paid next week. I can’t just leave my paycheck there…”
“We’ll drive back into town to get it, and your car. No worries.”
“I see. And when did you start making my decisions?”
“I didn’t. I already knew what you were thinking. Figured I’d say it first, so you didn’t have to ask.”
Laughing, Jody hugged her bag to her stomach. “Got me all figured out, huh?”
“Not at all. And that’s why we’re going to have so much fun together.”
Gnawing her lip, she nodded. “That’s right.”
“Might want to get some clothes, though. Pack up whatever you want to take.”
Jody nodded. “Yeah.” She started walking toward the hallway that led back to her bedroom. “And get out of this bathing suit.”
“Could you leave it on?”
Pausing, Jody looked back at me, an eyebrow arched. “What?”
“I like it.”
Jody looked down at herself, and again, I took a prolonged survey of her amazing body. The bikini top hardly covered her large breasts. The bikini bottoms were held up by knots at her hips, which left the upper curve of her leg exposed before the narrow patch that covered her backside. The front was a triangle the size of a small road flag.
I wasn’t in any hurry to see her wearing anything else.
“For you,” she said, “I’ll leave this on.”
“Great. And I won’t ask to borrow one of your shirts.” I patted my stomach. It made soft taps against my bare skin.
Jody laughed. “Good. You’d stretch it out.”
“Might look good on me, though. Kind of like a belly shirt.”
“More like a nipple shirt.”
I laughed.
“But,” she added, pointing at me. “When we get to your place, I get to take a shower. And this goes in the wash.”
“Fine by me.”
“And to make it fun, I’ll let my body air-dry.”
I gulped.
Laughing, Jody pranced into the dark hallway. Gone was her tense mood and anger. Now she acted like a little girl about to embark on an enchanted adventure.
And, I realized, in many ways, she was absolutely right.
10
Ron
“You didn’t write down very much,” Jody said.
Ron glanced down at the yellow paper. She was right. He counted four words: Stockholm, orgasm, blood, and website. Though to anybody else they probably looked like the haphazard shopping list for a madman, to Ron, they could have been paragraphs. What he’d heard so far from the Covingtons had told him plenty: They were both crazier than shithouse rats.
It was their mentioning the website that had stopped his writing. Something Violent. He wanted to know more about this network, but knew better than to ask. They’d accuse him of not focusing on their problems.
Just wait until the time’s right.
“It’s part of my process,” Ron lied. “I’ve been doing this long enough I have my own system.”
“How long?” Seth asked.
“Going on twenty years now.”
“Wow,” said Seth. “You don’t look that old.”
Not only had Seth questioned Ron’s credentials, he’d teased his age. Ron had nothing to prove to this guy and was insulted the psychotic jock would even attempt to scrutinize him.
“Good job, Seth,” said Jody. “You made him mad, again.”
“I apologize,” Seth said. His tone told Ron there was zero sincerity in it.
“No harm,” said Ron.
Seth, leaning back in the camping chair, folded his arms across his chest. “This seems to be taking forever.”
“Well,” said Jody. “I didn’t know where to start, so I just started with the day we met. Figured it was a good place.” She faced Ron. “Would you rather us talk about our childhoods or something?”
“No,” said Ron. “It’s not necessary in this situation. We need to focus on the two of you, your relationship.”
“Ah. Do you want us to give you a rundown of what we’ve done? You know…the killings or whatever?”
Ron’s stomach performed a nauseated flip. “No. It’s fine. I’m familiar with your…actions. I’ve followed it on the news, the internet, and the papers.”
“Hooked on Satan’s Sweethearts, huh?” Seth said, smirking. “I hate that name..”
“You’re kind of hard to miss. Seems every other week a new story pops up on Satan’s Sweethearts.”
Jody grimaced. “Satan’s…? Who calls us that?”
Ron felt his face flush with heat. “Oh…I do. It’s a moniker I gave you.”
“Shitty name,” Seth said. “We’re not devil worshippers.”
“Well, you never know,” Ron said.
“We know,” said Seth. “We aren’t in league with the devil.”
“Good to know,” Ron said, and scribbled it down. When he checked over what he’d just written, he barely recognized the handwriting. Trying to jot notes with your arms bound was even harder than one might think.
“So you’ve followed the stories about us?” Jody asked.
“I did…until recently.”
“Yeah,” said Jody. “We’re not in the news that much anymore.”
Now that Ron thought about it, he realized he hadn’t seen anything new on the Sweethearts in a long time. But those old news stories weren’t easy to forget.
Sick stuff. Twisted.
Ron’s mind flipped through the many articles and newsreels about Satan’s Sweethearts. If the papers were accurate, then the Covingtons were responsible for the brutal deaths of fifteen people. Ron figured the accurate number was probably much higher.
After talking to the couple a little bit, it was hard for him to fathom their callous methods. Both seemed like rather likable people.
Uneducated, but likable.
Hardly seemed at all like the murdering twosome in the news. He struggled to believe these attractive imbeciles were the same lovers who’d strung up a woman in a tree by her innards, tied a man by his neck to the back of a car and dragged him a mile before his head finally plopped off. They’d taken the detached head with them to a bowling alley after hours, broken in, and played a lane.
There was video of this online. Both had on their masks. What made it strange was they’d left money on the counter for the lane, plus a little extra. Authorities believed it was to cover any damages they’d caused during their late-night game.
More random acts of violence followed.
A pair of college-aged girls heading home for spring break never reached their destination. Later, the car was found in the woods, the windows busted out and both women dead. Authorities believed they’d been forced to fight each other to the death. Both girls had been found with knives in their hands. The wounds on either body matching the blade the other girl had used to defend herself.
At a state park, an old man on a motorized wheelchair had been strapped to the seat and pushed into a rushing stream. The coroner believed he was still alive as the current pulled him downstream, banging against rocks until his head finally split open. Pieces of his brain washed up for days.
A dinner party was invaded by a masked couple, the
purple-haired female armed with a shotgun and the masked male sported a modified baseball bat. Four people died that night, but ten had been mortally wounded. The host, a real-estate mogul, survived, but the woman had dug out his eyes with a fancy spoon and forced his wife to eat them.
Others were mostly random, road killings. People on desolate highways, oblivious that the bad luck of their timing or direction would lead them straight into the Covingtons’ feral, bloodthirsty mouths.
Sick stuff. All of it. And fascinating at the same time.
Likable? Yes, the Covingtons were easily likable, indeed. But Ron needed to remember they weren’t nice people. Not only crazy, Ron sensed a hint of evil simmering beneath their affable exteriors. He also needed to shove that realization aside, approach their issues in a professional detachment. What he thought about them couldn’t influence his work.
Ron nearly laughed. Even now, he stuck to his code.
“Are you done staring at the writing pad like you want to lick it?” Jody’s question.
Seth laughed. “Maybe we should give him a minute alone with it.”
“Sorry,” said Ron. “Just letting my mind run.”
“Thinking about us?” Jody asked.
“As a matter of fact,” Ron said, nodding.
“Trying to figure out how we could do the things we’ve done?”
Jody was also a mind reader. “I’m trying not to. Can’t let what I already know about you deter me one way or another.”
“Is that why you don’t want us to go over them?” Jody asked. “The killings, I mean.”
“It’s not crucial to why we’re here, is it?”
“It’s the only reason we’re here,” she said. “Seth doesn’t like killing with me anymore. And now he wants to leave me.”
“No,” said Seth. “You’re the one who said I don’t want to kill with you anymore. I never said that.”
“But you don’t.”
Seth opened his mouth, but all that came out was a low whuffling sound.
“See?” said Jody. “If that doesn’t tell you anything, I don’t know what will.”
“Let’s not jump to any conclusions,” Ron said.
“I didn’t jump into anything. This was something that gradually happened. Then one day…” She blew through her pursed lips, rattling them.
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