Something_Violent

by Rufty, Kristopher

  “Shocked,” said Ron.

  “I bet so.”

  “Who did that to you?” he asked.

  “Remember those bounty hunters I told you about?”

  “You tracked them down.”

  “I sure did. And boy was that stupid.”

  “Oh my God. When?”

  “It took a long time. But I started digging around after Seth gave me a mask as an anniversary present. Two months as newlyweds.” She smiled. “His gift meant a lot to me. I was officially a part of it with him, you know. And I wanted to do something for him, for Pappy, the whole family, really.” Jody shook her head. “Should’ve left it alone. Should’ve just been happy with the gift and let that be all of it.”

  Ron didn’t know what to say. He saw Jody being held down while a grubby hand jabbed the hot end of a cigarette against the side of her breast. The image made him feel sick.

  “It was blank,” Jody said. “The mask, I mean. Just a white face and some skinny string to hold it on my face. He told me it was up to me to decorate it.” Jody stepped to the back of her chair, lifted a leg, and swung it over the seat back. “I tried to add a bit of glam to mine. Seth’s was so morose, you know, and I just wanted a bit of flair. The purple hair was my idea too. My hair would give me away in a lineup, easily. Plus I had this old wig. Thought I should use it for something. Used to do some exotic dancing, back when I actually thought about going to college. Figured it was an easy way to earn some lettuce. And it was. Too easy. I found out how easy it was to manipulate men to get what I wanted. I didn’t like myself very much at the time.”

  “And Honkers helped you feel better about yourself?” Ron asked.

  “Ouch,” Jody said.

  “He has a point.” Seth’s voice came from up high and behind Ron.

  Jody rolled her eyes. “We’ve been over the Honkers stuff. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  “Neither do I,” said Seth. The stairs groaned as he descended. His footfalls became soft and crunchy when they touched the dirty floor. Stepping into Ron’s line of sight, Seth had his back to Ron. “I’d be happy never to talk about Honkers again.”

  “Ditto,” said Jody.

  Ron nodded. “Sounds good. I think we’ve moved beyond that part of your story anyway. It’s time we start looking into the problems. You’ve established to me a very strong foundation for a relationship that works, so now we need to figure out where things went wrong.”

  And keep them talking, no matter what.

  Ron understood the danger of trudging around the darker side of their personal matters. Unpredictable. And being the odd man in the room, Ron would be the first person they took out their aggressions on. Especially if he couldn’t say the right things to make them feel better.

  Seth held out his hand to Jody. In it was a bottle of water and pack of peanut-butter crackers. She took them, offered a simple smile, and set them between her feet. Then he set another bottle of water and crackers in his seat before walking over to Ron, holding out another bottle of water.

  “I can’t drink it with my hands like this,” said Ron. “But I appreciate it.”

  Sighing, Seth twisted off the cap. “Tilt your head back.”

  Ron did as he was told. Above him, the ceiling was dark. He could see hints of pink insulation between the aging wood beams, puffy like cotton candy. When he was a little boy, he’d almost eaten some because it looked tasty. Thankfully his father had been nearby to stop him from killing himself.

  “I’m probably going to make a mess,” said Seth. “But I’m not untying you, so deal with it.”

  Before Ron could respond, the bottle appeared above him. The neck tilted down. Water streamed out, splashing his nose and chin. Ron opened his mouth and formed his lips around the bottle’s mouth.

  And gulped.

  Like a baby, he nursed on the bottle, swallowing as much water as he could. He did all right for a few swallows. Then he choked. Turning away, he coughed and hocked up water on his shoulder. Seth wasn’t quick enough to pull the bottle away and water splashed the side of Ron’s face, spilling down his neck and the front of his shirt. The cold water made him flinch as it drenched his skin.

  “Good one,” he heard Jody say behind his coughs. “Maybe just strangle him with your hands, if that’s what you were trying to do.”

  “Stop it,” said Seth. “There was no other way.”

  “You couldn’t have brought him down a straw?”

  “I would’ve if I’d thought about it. Give me a break. He’s fine.”

  Ron lifted his head, taking deep breaths. It felt like he was trying to breathe through a wet napkin. His vision was blurry. He needed to blow his nose.

  Ron groaned.

  “Sorry, man,” said Seth. “Told you I might make a mess.”

  A few minutes later, Ron had finally stopped coughing and sniveling like a toddler with a bad cold. His shirt was soaked, clinging to his body in a few places. The wet collar was heavy around his neck. The notepad had been hit by the water as well. Wet spots dotted the page, making the paper thin and easy to tear. Some of what he’d previously written had smeared.

  Oh well.

  Nothing he could do about it. Maybe ask for another pad?

  He looked at the Covingtons. Both of them looked annoyed and impatient.

  Forget the pad.

  He opened his hands, letting the pad and pen fall to the floor.

  “What’d you do that for?” Jody asked. She gave Seth a quick glance. “Are you quitting?”

  “No,” said Ron. “I’m done with the pad. It’s too damn hard to write like this. I’ll make my notes mentally.”

  To his surprise, neither of his captors argued over his decision.

  “We should continue,” Ron said.

  “I suppose you want to talk about the scars,” Jody said.

  Seth sat up straight, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Wonderful.”

  “I didn’t say that. I said we should move on to when things started to fall apart.”

  “Then that would be the scars,” she said. “Right, Seth?”

  Arms crossed, he slightly raised one shoulder higher in a lame shrug. “Probably.”

  “Before that,” Jody said, “we were doing just fine.”

  “Racking up a body count,” Ron said.

  Jody nodded. “We were doing that too. So what? It’s what we did. Go out for some fun, kill a few fuckers who deserved it, screw our brains out, and go home. That was a good night for us.”

  “Hell yeah,” said Seth.

  “So what changed it?” Ron asked.

  “Hank Merlson.”

  Ron knew that name. He’d seen it before, in an article, or heard it on TV. Then it clicked. “He was the old man you killed. The one in the scooter.”

  “Wow,” said Jody. “You have kept up with us, haven’t you?”

  Ron ignored her snarky tone. “Why is he to blame?”

  Jody looked uncomfortable, as if talking about it had given her a bad case of stomach cramps. She rubbed her belly, her arms. “He hired the bounty hunters.”

  Ron remembered the old man’s picture the media flashed on TV every hour. A kind-looking man, with a pleasant smile.

  “And he was a sicko pervert,” Jody added. “It wasn’t hard for me to lure him away with promises of getting to touch me.”

  “How’d you find him?”

  “It took a long time—months and months. I started with what happened to Seth’s family, worked my way back and around in all directions, pursuing each person his parents had killed. Looked into the victims’ family history, dug around. This wasn’t something I was able to do in a mystery movie montage of events, either. Like I said, it took a long time. But I promised myself, for Seth, I wouldn’t give up until I’d figured out who sent the bounty hunters.”

  “Hank Merlson,” Ron said.

  “Yep.” Jody let out a long breath, hissing through her nose. “I had it narrowed down to four prospects. I figured
I’d go out, question them, get them to admit it, and then kill them. After two false starts I’d rather not mention, it was Hank’s turn. And he turned out to be the one.”

  Part Two

  16

  Jody

  Hank slapped my ass, hard. I pretended to like it, giggling like a girl playing with bubbles as I walked beside his scooter. He kept the throttle slow to match my pace. I had on a short pleated skirt, sandals, and a white top that left a pond of bare skin below my neck. The bra was left at home to make sure ghostly hints of my breasts could be seen through the top. I had a small backpack over my shoulders, packed full of things I would need.

  When I first approached Hank at the park, he’d been feeding the ducks from his scooter. They must’ve liked what he was giving them, because they were everywhere, quacking, fluffing their chests, and holding out their wings. Some moved out of the way as I’d closed in, others pecked at me, as if checking my fingers for pinches of bread. Hank saw me coming and dropped the bag. The ducks swarmed the fallen food, pecking wildly.

  After that, the ducks were ignored. It took me no time to get him to follow me onto the trail.

  We arrived at a secluded section where the stream gushed through, using the handicap access trails to get closer. Woods surrounded us. In front of the stream was a lopsided bench. Dirt trails cut in all directions from this point.

  Being a morning in the middle of the week, there weren’t many people at the park. Just those I called Walkers: People whose mornings solely existed on a few laps around the park.

  We’d left them behind when we started on the path. Nobody seemed to be around the scenic view by the stream. Just us. And that was how I wanted it. Nobody to interrupt our time.

  “So a hundred bucks is what you’re asking?” Hank said, smiling. His teeth were too white and blocky to be real. He wore thick glasses that made his eyes look big and wet, and with his long, flabby neck, and sagging nose that seemed to touch his lips, he gave off the distinct impression of a human turtle.

  Standing in front of Hank, I folded my hands behind my back. I crossed my ankles, turning my leg outward so he could have a nice look at my leg. Being an overcast day, there wasn’t much sunlight, but my skin still glowed as if coated in glaze. “That’s right,” I told him. “Maybe even seventy-five if you treat me sweetly.”

  “Oh, I’m a sweet guy,” he said. “Just ask my grandkids.” He let out a phlegmy laugh that made his face turn pink.

  I should’ve figured this pervert would be a grandfather. He looked like the poster boy for all grandfathers. But hearing him vocally admit he was made me feel icky inside. I pictured little kids sitting on his lap while he tried to catch their noses.

  Did his family have any clue he was the kind of guy who’d be willing to fork up a hundred bucks to fool around with a girl like me? Or that he was possibly the kind of person to pay a pair of malicious killers to slaughter a family, to rape a man’s wife, to rape some kids’ mother in front of them?

  No way. He was the type of person who could blend in with his surroundings, a snake in the grass, just waiting for that perfect moment to have a bite.

  And now he wanted to have a bite of me.

  “I bet you are a sweet man,” I said, giggling. “I wouldn’t have come up to you if I thought otherwise.”

  Hank gave a quick look around. “You going to show me those knockers now?”

  Knockers? Really?

  But I kept my bogus, playful smile going for him. “You want me to? Here?”

  “You brought me out here, didn’t you? Might as well let me have a peek.”

  “In a minute,” I said. I was in no mood to actually let him see under my shirt. Besides, how little the shirt actually concealed should give him enough of an idea. “How about I do this?”

  Reaching under my skirt, the fabric bunched around my wrists as I gripped the edges of my panties. Hank’s eyes grew behind the thick lenses of his glasses. His bottom lip quivered.

  “Oh, honey,” he said.

  Bending over, I slid my panties down my legs. At my knees, I let them drop to my ankles. Then I crouched, keeping my legs together, and picked them up. I held them out, bunched in my hand.

  “Surprised?” I asked.

  Staring at my hand, Hank said nothing.

  “Want to sniff them?” I asked.

  He slowly nodded.

  “Good,” I said, heading toward him. It was quiet in the woods, even the birds were silent. The ground crunched under my sandals as I walked. Air tickled me between the legs, making me feel naked, though I still was covered.

  Nearing Hank, I noticed the wheezy sounds of his breathing.

  This is an old man, I told myself.

  What am I doing here?

  Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I could just walk right past him. Leave Hank behind. Let him find his way back to the park. Seth was at work, and I could go home, clean up the house, make him a nice supper, and ride him until we both fell asleep.

  That sounded like a much better idea.

  And I might’ve done it, had I not felt how a patch of skin on my ass felt tight and sore from Hank’s swatting hand.

  No, I couldn’t leave. This guy was a scumbag. Didn’t matter how old he was.

  I stepped past Hank’s feet, moving up his side. Putting one hand on his shoulder, I leaned over, letting my shirt dip low. His eyes locked on my breasts. He took a deep, shuddery breath. “Take a whiff,” I said.

  Hank started to breathe in.

  Then I crammed my panties in his mouth.

  Hank’s screams were muffled as I stuffed and stuffed. His red cheeks bulged; his eyes were wide and shocked. When there was nothing left to push in, I stepped back and shook my shoulders out of the backpack. It dropped to the ground. Squatting, I gave a quick look around, saw no one, then opened the pack.

  I pulled out the duct tape.

  Standing up, I gave another quick check for people, then tore back a strip of tape. It dangled from the roll like a silver tongue. While Hank coughed and heaved and dug at his mouth, I slapped the tape to his chest, then ran circles around his scooter. By the time I had finished, he was trapped in a silver cocoon. Arms pinned inside, his head lashed from side to side. Veins swelled in his neck. His face was starting to turn blue.

  Shit!

  I needed to hurry before the old bastard suffocated. Leaning close to his ear, I said, “Listen to me. I’m going to remove my panties.” Hank groaned and grunted as he tried to communicate. “You better not scream.” Hank screamed, but my panties stifled it. “If you scream, I’ll cut off your shriveled cock and make you eat it.”

  Hank went still. He watched me. His eyes looked watery and very white on his darkening face.

  “Understand?” I asked.

  Hank nodded.

  “All right,” I said, reaching up to his mouth. “Do what I say.”

  Only a small tail of panties hung out the front of his mouth, and using just my thumb and index finger, I pinched the tip. Slowly, I pulled them out. As soon as they were no longer blocking Hank’s airflow, he sucked in a deep, wheezy breath that turned to a violent cough.

  I held up my panties and looked them over. The fabric was dark and soggy from Hank’s slobber and phlegm.

  “Gross,” I muttered.

  As Hank coughed, I removed Seth’s knife from my bag, then dropped the panties inside. I planned to burn them as soon as I got home. No way would I ever wear them again. And that was a bummer, since they were a favorite pair of mine—black and sparkly, on the crotch was a cherry with a small bite taken out of it.

  They would be missed.

  I waited for Hank to get control of himself. It took a while. When he finally had his breathing under control, I stepped forward and brought the knife up to his crotch. I slammed the tip of the blade into the cushion between his legs.

  Hank opened his mouth, a scream began to emerge.

  “You better not,” I warned.

  Hank swallowed the scream, nodded.
“Wha…?” He made asthmatic breathing sounds as he tried to find his words. “What…do you…want? Money? I have…plenty. Just not on me…”

  “Information.”

  “Huh…?” His eyes narrowed, mouth slacked. “What?”

  “Just information. I’m going to ask you some questions. The sooner you answer them, the sooner we can be done. Got me?”

  “I don’t know what you expect me to know…I’m just an old fart…a nobody…”

  “For the most part, you’re right. But you might be able to help me with something.”

  Hank took a deep breath that sounded like he was trying to huff air through a coffee stirrer. “I’ll try…”

  “That’s all I’m asking. Oh, and be honest. I’ll know if you’re lying. And if you are…” I gave the knife a couple quick taps, making the blade lightly brush his crotch. I smiled when Hank’s breathing intensified again.

  “I’ll be honest!”

  I shushed him. “Be a bit quieter when you’re being honest, okay?”

  Hank pinched his lips, nodded.

  “Good,” I said. “Many years ago, you lost your oldest son, am I right?”

  “Yuh-yes.”

  “He was killed on a road trip with a bunch of his friends.”

  “Right. Murdered. He was on fall break from college. Taking a trip to Virginia…”

  “Exactly. I know the story. I looked it up.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I’m trying to find the assholes that were hired to track down your son’s killer.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “What assholes?”

  I saw it. It was subtle. Most would’ve missed such a quick flicker in his eyes. It only lasted a moment before it was gone.

  He was lying. This was the guy.

  “The assholes you hired,” I said.

  “I…I didn’t hire…” This time the twitching in his eyes wasn’t so elusive. There was no mistaking his movements were the result of his working up a big whopper. A whopper he’d kept to himself for almost thirty years.

  I pushed the knife forward. The blade sliced through his pants. I watched the fabric tear open, exposing his white underwear. If I were to push a bit harder, the blade would nick his balls.