Hey there trouble, haven't seen You in a while,

Thought You might have left our town.

For a moment I was scared,

But now You're back, and I am saved.

It might be hard to understand,

But when You're near me – I feel blessed.

So could You please just stay some more?

It pains me much to see You go.

Well, it's okay, I'll see You later anyway,

I know the paths You walk each day,

Along these routes I'll leave my clues,

Reminding You that You're my muse.

it's okay

my heart is just as bruised and battered as yours

but within you, it finds a place to rest

to breathe

it finally feels safe

safe in words no dictionary could hold

you put a spell on me, darlin

a spell covered in the dust

of one million dying stars

I shifted, bent

and formed into a new being

a new shape

that nestled itself perfectly

into the curve of your body,

and the roundness of your arms

as they wrapped around my soul

my entire being destroyed

and shattered from the inside out

and rebuild anew

now, not one moment passes

without my skin craving yours,

these hands restlessly searching

until they find

the masterfully well-built web

of our fingers

intertwining into one,

my light yearning to once again be with its counterpart

wait for me,

under the Apollo's Sun

as I find my way home

not to a place or any four walls

but to that melody

playing my name between your ribs

a galactic storm

put into a slightly fractured and bruised heart

that beats

to the rhythm of my own

finally, I have found

someone with a chaos matching mine

.

I'd always wondered how it would feel to kill myself.

The morning sun recreated the bars of the windows on my bed, imprisoning me in a cage of shadows. I grabbed the sheets where the dark lines fell, seeing if I could pull them apart, and off to my liberation. But I couldn't even grasp them, as if they never existed. But I knew. I knew how the cage bound me in chains-- disguised as a blanket of warmth and comfort. Disguised as a tapestry of blood and kinship.

"Morning, sweetheart." He entered my room again, dawning his pretence costume of a saviour in the streets. People looked at him like a hero, but I knew who he was beneath all the medals and the stars. I knew the creepy ogre lurking beneath his malicious sneer. I knew the grotesque fantasies hiding underneath his firm assurances. I knew. I knew.

His filthy palms were on my neck. I baulked away from his disgusting frame, his foul stench. I knew I shouldn't have-- he was about to leave, and I could have been in peace till the night fell, but no. Today was different.

Frustrated sigh-- removing the metal watch and holster from his undeserving outfit-- he stood with his back against me. The silhouette of his stocky frame enclosed within the same bars that held me-- but he stood mighty, while I, an incomprehensible heap of slender patterns. But today was different.

I stood upon my bed, my shadow growing vast behind me. The bars could only then reach my knees, but they surrounded him-- a beast prepared for the kill. I bent down, seizing the holster without his notice. Bore the cold piece of metal on my skinny arms. Turn around, sweetheart.

The sheets would have to be washed. The floors would have to be wiped. The walls would have to be painted. But the house was cleansed of its dirt more than ever-- it no longer sheltered within an aberration, one the world didn't need.

I exited the bed and onto the floor. The bars could not hold me anymore.

Blood squished under my bare feet. I walked out the front doors and onto my liberation.

I'd always wondered how it would feel to be alive.

#fiction

Smith County Memorial Hospital – 2:35 a.m.

Baker, Stevie, Satchell, Devon, Prescott, Andrews, and dozens of other men and women from the Twenty-Second were milling about the waiting room, waiting to hear news from both surgeon’s that worked on Ed, and J.W.

Almost four hours had gone by.

The waiting was almost as bad as watching Ed bleeding to near death.

A set of double doors swung open, and out walked a Dr. Ellen Monroe. She was the one who operated on J.W.

“He is a strong man. With some rest, he should be as good as new in about six to eight weeks. He is incredibly lucky. Another two inches to his left, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Baker’s eyes darted to another set of doors that hadn’t yet moved.

Something’s gone terribly wrong, she thought. No one wants to come out and tell me.

“It’ll be fine, Baker,” Satchell said, as he placed his arm around her shoulder. “Ed’s a tough cookie. He’ll pull through.”

She looked up at him and tried to smile.

“I so hope you’re right. I pray you’re right.”

Stevie touched his mom’s hand and pointed.

The doors opened, and out walked a heavyset man, nearing fifty, with a deep, booming voice.

“Mrs. Manning?”

That was a first.

Baker stood up and rushed toward the doctor.

He seemed hesitant to speak at first.

“What’s wrong? Tell me. I need to know, dammit!”

“Mrs. Manning, no need to upset yourself any further. For the most part, we were able to reattach his arm to the nerve endings that weren’t damaged by the cut made. He has, of course, lost a great deal of blood. We would like to keep him here several days to monitor his condition as he begins to regain his strength.”

“Then he has a chance of having full use of his arm, again?”

“That, I’m afraid, Mrs. Manning, I cannot guarantee. We have cleaned and sutured every viable muscle, nerve, and tendon back together that wasn’t damaged, but I’m afraid the arm may either be incapacitated, or he will be left with very minimal use. I can say that he will never be able to use his left hand properly again.”

“Can I see him?”

“Right now, he is sedated. I would ask that you come back in the ….”

Satchell stepped in between Baker and the doctor, who towered over him by a good six inches, and with a whispered, steely voice, said, “No, doc. She gets to see him, now.”

The doctor stepped back, slightly ruffled and said, “Very well, but please make it brief.”

Baker found out that Ed was taken out another set of doors and was transported to the fourth floor. When she arrived with Stevie, Ed was already wired for sound.

She walked over to him, patted his head lightly, kissed his forehead, and then both eyes, both cheeks, and then his lips.

“I know you can hear me, sweets, but you’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. We will all be fine. Thank you for coming back to me.” She looked over at Stevie. “To us.”

Stevie simply said, “We are family, Ed. Family.”

Silently, Baker said, “Thank you, God, for bringing him back to us.”

Room 212-A – 2:58 a.m.

Andre Devon sat in a hospital chair, in the dark, watching all the monitor lights either bleep on and off, or just keep a steady pulsing light going.

Satchell edged his way into the room.

“Hey, Cisco. I see your keeping an eye on Poncho, eh?”

“That I am. When he does wake up, I’m going to give him hell for not having backup with him. He didn’t even wait for me to be alongside him.”

“Big talk.”

Andre bolted from the chair next to J.W. Satchell walked to the end of the bed.

“Welcome back, Poncho. I see you made it back to us in one piece.”

“I feel like I’ve been sliced and diced.”

“That’s because you nearly were. Freddy’s Bowie knife ran clean through you. The doc’s sewed you up. Said you would be good as new in a few weeks.”

“Freddy. Oh shit, Freddy!” J.W. tried to rise from the bed, but Andre wouldn’t let him. Realizing he was still too weak to do much of anything, he looked at Satchell. “Captain, I think I got a round off in him, but….”

“Just relax for now, J.W. You did your job, and I’m proud of you. Now, if you two will excuse me, I’m going to find, Baker. J.W., get some rest, and you better damn well do what the doctors and nurses tell you in here. I want you back a hundred percent.”

He left two men, two partners, two friends, alone.

Ten minutes later, Satchell was about to open the door to 421-C, when it opened from the inside, and out stepped Baker and Stevie.

“How is he?”

“Breathing steadily, and out like a light, but thank God, he’s alive, Satchell.” Baker reached for Stevie and hugged him close to her. “I’m sorry you had to witness everything.”

He hugged her back, saying, “It’s okay, mom. I’m okay. We survived.”

“Look, Baker, I know you may not want to do this, but we need to get back to that house on Ochie Woods, first crack of dawn. I’ve called Carl and he has a team out there now, but in the morning, he’ll bring in another team to go over it with a fine-tooth comb; so nothing is left to chance. J.W. was awake for a little bit, and swears he shot Freddy. If that’s true, and we can find his blood, we’ll finally have something concrete on his ass we can file under his DNA.”

“I don’t want to go back out there, but at the same time, I need to go back and face down the demon shadows, I suppose. Honestly, it’ll give me something to do so I don’t go stir-crazy worrying about Ed. I’ll be out there by six.”

“Baker, I am so terribly sorry for everything that’s happened, but, if like J.W. thinks, Freddy is hurt bad enough, his days may already be numbered, and maybe he’ll crawl in a hole and just bleed to death.”

“Satchell, have the sketch artist available for me, after we look around the crime scene. I know what Freddy really looks like. His real self is as horrifying as what he does.”

16593 Golden Row Circle

Brighton – 4:29 a.m.

The doorbell rang and rang.

The sound slowly filtered into her dreams. A dream of wild, unending, unyielding sex with Craig Murray. Her sheets were damp, her body twisting across sheets thrown helter-skelter, until finally, just when it reached the point of the most intense orgasm of her life was about to blow away the world; the ringing of her doorbell destroyed all hopes of the world being destroyed.

“Huh? Who? Who the hell is at my door at four-thirty in the damn morning! Go away whoever you are. I have a dream to finish.”

She didn’t realize she spoke so loudly, but she did hear the voice, and then recognized the name.

“Marie! Marie! Let me in, please. It’s an emergency. It’s Craig.”

She sat up in bed, fully naked and started to rush to the door, but stopped short to get her pink robe. After all, she didn’t want to frighten him at the door before she got him in bed.

Running to the door, she pulled back two dead bolt latches, and turned her security lock to the right; completely forgetting her phone call with the police, swung open her door with a short-lived smile.

She started to scream, but Freddy smashed her in the mouth with a powerful right hand, sending her sprawling backward on her living room floor, unconscious. He closed the door behind him and locked it.

Setting his bag down onto a chair to his left, he looked for her bathroom and found a medicine cabinet. Bandages, iodine, tape. Perfect.

He grabbed all of it, and went back to the front room, tore away his shirt, and looked, as blood was leaking from the right side of his chest.

No bones broken.

Good.

But the bullet was still lodged inside.

He poured half the bottle of iodine on the wound, then reached inside his bag and extracted another Bowie knife. With great care, he placed the tip of the blade into the wound, slowly twisting and digging inside until he could feel where the bullet rested.

Sweat oozed from his flesh like a hard rain, and he held back the grimace of pain he wanted to scream out. He should be used to this by now; after all, this is the sixth time he has been shot. Even the police in Europe were terrible shots. Although, had Roberts shot at him in the daylight, he might not be here trying to remove a slug from his chest.

Freddy thought aloud for a moment. "One day my good fortune will run out. Hell, no one lives forever but for now, I have too much to do."

He slipped the blade’s tip carefully under the slug, and with hands of a practiced surgeon, he eased back the blade, feeling the slug make the reverse trek as well.

Two minutes of painstaking, agonizing work before the piece of metal fell onto the floor. Reaching down for it, he picked it up and placed it in an ashtray on an end table next to where Marie lay unconscious.

Freddy emptied the remaining iodine, and grabbed a few layers of gauze, and inserted them into the open wound, and then placed more gauze over that, and began to wrap it with an ace bandage until he could wrap it even tighter with adhesive tape. It was all he had for now.

When he had finished, Marie Hampton was coming back around.

Freddy eyed her with a demon look.

"You aren't sweet Janis, but you'll do. For now."

Without forethought, without care, he grabbed her hair, wrenched her head backward and before his Bowie knife sliced through her neck, he saw the pitiful fear etched on her face and locked into her eyes. He released her hair, and her lifeless body fell back to the floor.

With all the hatred and anger he could focus into a single burst of driven energy; he slashed her chest into shreds. Cut away her arms and legs. He removed each breast and flung them across the room not caring where they landed.

He opened what remained of her chest, reached in, and ripped her heart out, and feasted. He ate half of it, then let it fall from his hand, only to bounce off Marie’s uncaring face and land but an inch from her dead, opened lips.

And as suddenly as he had been vile and disgusting, he quickly became calm and endearing, if that were really possible.

No longer feeling his own pain, he searched around Marie’s apartment for pen and paper.

As there was now a change of plans, he would take Marie’s car, and make his way to Canada where he knew he would be safe. He has accounts there, as he did in over two dozen places around the world. Freddy was never without resources.

He would purchase new ID’s, birth certificates, social security numbers, driver’s license, and more materials to create new looks for himself. Craig Murray would never reappear.

After he had written the note, he went to the kitchen to fix himself a meal. From there, he cleaned himself up as best as he could. Interestingly enough, he found some clothes in Marie’s closet that fit him easily (one lover, or more?) enough.

When it was time for him to leave, he would call the Brighton police, so they could find Marie’s flesh-torn body. They would also find the note he left for Baker.

Like always, it began: My dear, sweet Janis.

140 Ochie Woods Lane – 9:53 p.m.

“…. and now you know the rest of the fiendish story my life has led. Of how I became this way. Of how every time I see this disjointed face in a mirror, my heart gives a wrenching cry for the one woman in this world I could have loved forever, and the only woman I could ever fully trust.

“So, you see, sweet Janis, you had, and still have no idea what I really look like. In truth, I have forgotten my looks. When I killed my brother, his likeness, my likeness, died with him. Now, I create different looks for myself, and go from there, and … to hide the misery I feel at times.”

The phone rang in the front room again.

“Craig? Craig Murray, or whoever you really are; the police are on their way to arrest you. You just make sure all your possessions are out of there by the end of this month! If not, I will sell everything at an auction.”

Freddy’s eyes went on high alert. He strode into the front room and scanned the darkness outside for any kind of motion. He didn’t see any. He went from window to window. Nothing.

He came back to the “Special Room.”

“As much as this grieves me, sweet Janis, I am afraid I will have to let you live after all. Perhaps another time, but not before I do at least one thing to prove my intent wasn’t talk.”

He walked to Stevie and stood in front of him, then lifted his Bowie knife high in the air, and began a downward slashing motion.

There was a loud muffled scream, and Baker’s eyes filled with anguish, horror, and tears.

It wasn’t Stevie that screamed behind the duct tape, it was Ed.

Freddy sliced his left arm off.

“Now, you piece of shit, if they are close by, you better hope they can save your life instead of worrying about me! I would suspect you may have thirty minutes, tops.”

As he started to leave the room, he ripped the duct tape from Baker’s mouth and before she could resist, Freddy feverishly and harshly kissed her, and then bit down on her lip, drawing blood.

Savoring her taste, he whispered in her ear, “It isn’t your heart, but for now it will have to do.”

Freddy quickly made his way to the back door behind the curtain where he would go out into the back yard, and would climb over one rise, and safely make his getaway with a small, powered motorboat. It would take him to another larger cruiser waiting for him that would eventually get him to the east coast to his plane for a flight to South America.

He had everything he needed to get past customs on the smaller boat. A new face, and a new passport. He would become Arthur Manzanettie, a buyer of rare gems.

Freddy had just made it to the top of the rise when he heard, “Stop where you are, or I will blow your mother-fucking head off!”

Back Inside the House – 9:55 p.m.

“Ed! ED! Hold on, please!”

“Oh, my God! It hurts so bad, Jan! I’m getting dizzy. Tired.”

“Don’t close your eyes. Ed! ED! Look at me! LOOK! AT! ME!”

“Ed, do what mom says, please!”

Stevie was partly covered by the first gushing flow of blood from Ed’s severed arm, from the bottom right side of his cheek, over his arm, and part of his chest, but he never noticed.

“Ed, don’t you dare die on me! Please, don’t.” The only other thing Stevie could do was cry.

Baker heard a door crash open and then voices.

“Help us! Back here! In here! Hurry!”

It had been Satchell and four other officers. They quickly made their way to the back room. With no thought, Satchell got on his radio and requested an ambulance arrive ASAP.

“Officer down! 140 Ochie Woods Lane! Needs medical attention, now!”

The officers cut away the tape from Baker, Stevie, and gently, Ed’s. But Ed was thrashing hard one moment, and almost limp the next.

“One of you men, get his arm, and wrap it up in something.” Satchell began to stem the flow of blood by using his own shirt, not caring about the blood covering him.

Baker ran over to Ed, kneeled by his side, holding his one good hand. Tears rushed like a torrential rain. She couldn’t find a glimmer of a reason to smile.

“Please, Ed. Don’t you die. Don’t you dare!”

"I think he's going into shock, Baker."

Satchell continued to apply pressure to the open wound to stem the flow of blood. He looked into Baker’s eyes, as his homemade tourniquet seemed to be working. "I want every man's shirt, to slow his blood flow down. NOW!"

“We might get lucky, Baker. It’s all about God, and time, now.”

Overlooking Standing Room Lake – 9:59 p.m.

“It seems you have me, at least so it appears. One little dip-shit of a cop who thinks he is smarter than everyone else. You weren’t smart enough to save that bitch-ass boyfriend of yours, were you, Roberts.”

J.W. wasn’t prepared for that remark and wavered in his thoughts for a single moment. How did he know?

In that brief second, Freddy raised his arm and threw his Bowie knife at J.W.

He saw it coming and dodged to his left and fired three rounds. He knew one made contact. He saw Freddy in the moon’s silvery glare, clutch at his chest. That was the last thing he remembered.

A few seconds later, Devon was by his side and radioed for a second ambulance. J.W. lay on the ground, eyes closed, and the twelve-inch blade was embedded into his chest.

Devon heard the sound of a boat, and he raced to the top of the rise and could see a lone figure getting away. Raising his standard-issue .45, Devon fired until his gun was hammering on empty chambers.

He ran back to J.W.

“Don’t you die on me, Poncho. Don’t you dare!”

But I need to get it out.

2023-05-15 A Letter I Will Never Send My Children

Dear Abacus and Samurai:

Ab, you will be 20 this year. Sami, you are 18. I am so sad and disappointed in how Mother’s Day culminated. I hear you saying that it’s all my fault, and I’ve lost your trust and desire to engage in meaningful discourse. And that for the sake of what values your father has taught you, you only continue to engage me out of obligation but no desire for a relationship past the surface. You don’t value my counsel or presence beyond this farce of filial duty. You will show up as required and allow my presence only if I refrain from trying to peel that delicate top layer and stop trying to heal what has been damaged.

Abacus your rage is a scary combination of your father’s and mine. I hope you age out of it like we did. Verbal discourse was never my forte. I’m sure that’s the biggest reason I am still alone after all these years. Well, maybe not, I have plenty of flaws from which to choose.

It’s an impossible feat though, to move forward when everyone is so unwilling to hear me. If you had any idea what it’s been like to be a single mom these past 15 years, with little to no support except my friends. The things I have gone through and done to protect you, I hope you never know.

I try to explain things, to offer you my perspective, and you tell me I am being defensive. You see a tear or hear the shake of my voice because of the depth of the love I have for you, and the sadness I feel about the way things have turned out, and it’s another brick in the fortress you feel you need to build to shield yourself from my emotions. I cry and I’m being manipulative.

I get angry because you tell your father about what happened and he calls me and tells me not to speak, just to listen to him, that I have nothing of value to say and just have to hear him play “knight in shining armor” to you - to rescue you from my emotions - my hurt, pain, and sadness. And I am playing “the victim card”.

After struggling for 13 years as a single mom, you bring another child into my home. Well, a young adult. Unquestioningly, I take her in. So now, I have four children, except one isn’t actually mine, so I honestly don’t know what to do when there is a conflict there. I’m not her mother. She doesn’t pay rent so I’m not her roommate. And these are exactly the kinds of situations I find so difficult.

Yet I am judged and blamed for not treating her as one of my own. Although based on what you’re telling me, she’s lucky, huh?

I suffer from chronic overextension of my finances, aka poverty, except I never tell you how often I didn’t eat so you could. I never tell you how dire things get trying to keep all the bills paid, because there is enough stress in your lives, and you are my children and I want to protect you. I suffer from seasonal depression, but I don’t want to weigh you down with another worry, so never mention how hard it is for me to get to the other side of each winter alive.

But I’m afraid the thing I protected you from was understanding. From learning empathy. If you had any idea how many times I have almost died, but kept going one more second at a time by thinking of you. And how much it hurts to then be rejected and berated and pummeled over the head with my very human missteps and mistakes. But if I try to say, “My life was hard” I’m guilt-tripping you.

I have given you EVERYTHING I could. I have sacrificed pieces of my soul for you. But I never want you to truly understand. I just want you to love me 1/10th of how much I love you. That’s it.

Love always,

Mom

2023-05-15 The Letters I Will Send My Children

Dear Abacus and Samurai:

I am sorry. I did not realize Abacus was so upset about that exchange.

I hope we can still do our little camping trip with the family this summer, including Kim.

I will not speak of anything which may upset anyone.

Love always,

Mom

Dear Kim:

I am sorry you felt unwelcome in our home. I am a pretty awkward human, and I clearly have not entirely figured out how to adult.

I hope you can forgive my missteps and we can move forward in love.

I never meant to make you feel excluded. Please understand it’s a relic of relationships of my era. It’s clearly a dated practice, but there was an understanding that addressing one half of the couple included both halves automatically. That is the only reason I didn’t think to include you specifically on invites and such.

You are always welcome in my home.

Love,

Mee

You left her lying in the field,

sad, afraid, and broken;

you always pointed out her flaws,

but her value was left unspoken.

There was a time you made her walk

behind, in your shadow...

and even then, you put her down

to drop her self-worth low.

Luckily, you didn’t know her

strength or resolution;

you underestimated her

resilient constitution.

She crawled across your fading tracks,

and stood on her own two feet,

then grew and thrived, for even bruised,

her loving heart stayed sweet.

She came across a cave of gray,

where I had crept to hide

and wait until the Grim Reaper

found me asleep inside.

She knew I’d been her first true love,

and saw past all my scars;

her perfect voice woke up my soul,

and warmed my cooling heart.

For she had been my first love too,

back in the days of our youth,

and even though I’d messed it up,

her heart still knew my truth.

So I must give you thanks today,

though friends we’ll never be;

you had her once, but did her wrong,

and now she’s safe with me.

———————---

© 2023 - dustygrein

(based on Christina's World, by Andrew Wyeth)

140 Ochie Woods Lane – 5:57 p.m.

Everything is in its place, and like all things, order is called for. And order he shall have.

There, side-by-side, still slumped over, sat Ed, and Stevie, in the chairs he created. Opposite them both, sat sweet Janis.

But she wouldn’t be sweet much longer.

He remembered a promise he made to himself, all because of Claire Waynestead. He would feast on Ed’s and the Gimp’s hearts in front of sweet Janis, before he would end her life in a screaming, terrifying madness.

Just as Baker was coming around, she could feel an echoing pain inside her head as if someone were stepping on her face and wouldn’t let up. Then she opened her eyes. It took a few seconds before she was able to focus on where she was, but across from her, were Stevie and Ed. They were still alive!

But for how long?

“sweet Janis. You are finally awake. How pleasant. At least I can finally explain how things will happen.

“First, I think I will do, Ed. I will cut off his arms first. Then his cock and shove the teeny-weenie thing into the trash compactor. Then I will pull his head back, so you can watch my work, sweet Janis. Watch as I slice open his throat, still alive, and while he drowns in his own blood, I will leave the mark of X across his chest. My version of the crucifix. I bet that was a clue you never did get, was it?

“Forgive me. I know you can’t reply. Is the tape uncomfortable at all? Too bad if it is, but after I am finished with him, then we get right into the heart of this glorious plan I have. Your son!”

Then his landline rang. The new door installed hadn’t been fully closed as yet, as he intended to let them sit in the room overnight and suffer the looks of agony each were going through.

But a message was left.

“Craig? If you are there, pick up. I need to know you are okay. I haven’t seen or heard from you since you moved in, and you haven’t responded to any of my messages. I’m concerned about you. Please call my office. I’m here until eight.”

Freddy went to the door and slammed it closed.

“There. No more distractions.”

1125 Clearfield Street - 8:27 p.m.

After Devon dropped him off, first thing J.W. did, was take a long, hot shower. The last several hours trying to locate Baker, Manning, and Stevie, had worn him out, and a hot shower would bring back much needed energy.

Tonight, he really wasn’t hungry. He micro’d a bag of popcorn, and poured himself a cup of hot tea, then went to his computer and checked his messages.

The fifth one down had his attention.

It read: I leased a home to a Craig Murray recently. Please call my number in Brighton: 509-335-6225.

Pay dirt!

140 Ochie Woods Lane – 8:42 p.m.

All three of them heard the large, steel-lined door open, and for Baker, it would be his third appearance. For Ed and Stevie, their first.

“Very nice. Now, I will have everyone’s undivided attention.”

He walked over to Stevie, gently caressed his face, then licked him from ear to lips.

“I can taste the tears of fear on his young face. But I also see your eyes in his, sweet Janis. Eyes that say, I want to kill you.” He laughed, then slapped Stevie hard.

“Hold onto that anger, boy. It will be the only thing to make the pain of your death end quickly.”

Then he stepped over to Ed.

“You know, in a weird, twisted, and very fucked up way, I can almost see the mentality she had in marrying you. Then again, I said—almost.” With a blurring backlash, he connected with Ed’s jaw and rocked his head back, then he grabbed his hair and twisted Ed’s face toward his own.

“Don’t you dare pass out on me, you fucking weasel. If you do, I will cut off the boy’s other leg off, right now!”

From behind his back, he pulled out a long, razor-sharp Bowie knife. Just as identical to all the others he has used.

“Pretty piece of work, isn’t it? Jim Bowie was a genius when he designed this gem. He just wasn’t too smart about fighting in a war where he had no way out. And that was pure stupidity.

“You have no options. No options, no way out of a bad, or even good situation.”

He turned around and walked over to Baker.

“Then we have you. Smart, alluring, sensual, alert, a good mommy, and I guess, an okay wife.” Then he looked back at Ed.

“How about it, can she polish your knob, or what. Her pussy suck up that piss-poor cock of yours and make you feel like the man you aren’t?”

He quickly turned and looked at Baker again.

“You once told me you knew what I look like. We both know that is a lie. No one can look like me. Not even my brother when he was alive, pretending to be the salt of the earth; and savior of local souls.

“Because you will die, sweet Janis, I will allow you to see the real me. The real me without makeup or mask. The me I wake up to every day, and sleep with every night. The me that has for years been filled with an unending rage, not just because of my brother, or the asylum, but because of life. Of caring for one life and have it taken away by a God we are all supposed to trust and depend on to see us through life’s trials. Do you have any idea what kind of bullshit that is!

“If the shit were gold, I would own the fucking world.

“Get ready, sweet Janis. You will be the third person in a long, long time to gaze at the monster that lies under this mask.

“Besides, I’m betting you are tired of seeing me walk around with Manning’s face; so off it goes.”

The Phone Call – 8:59 p.m.

“Miss Hampton. This is Officer J.W. Roberts, with the Twenty-Second precinct in Montie. I read your email a few minutes ago.”

“Yes, Officer Roberts. Would you mind telling me what your interest in Craig Murray is?”

“Miss Hampton, it’s a police matter, and if there is something you know about Craig Murray, or his whereabouts, which will help us bring him in for questioning, would be appreciated. If you do know something and fail to tell me, that is considered obstruction of justice, and carries a fine and penalty of one year in jail and a ten-thousand dollars.”

“Excuse me; are you threatening me?”

“No ma’am. Just stating the facts as I know them. Your email stated you leased a house to him for an entire year. Didn’t that make you the least bit suspicious of him?”

“Not at all. I’ve had people rent from me up to six months at a time. You have to understand that the houses and cottages out by Standing Room Lake is prime property.”

“What is his address?”

“First, can you tell me something? Is he going to be arrested? Is he a criminal?”

“Yes, Miss Hampton. The worse kind of criminal.”

“Dammit, dammit, dammit!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, just every time I find a guy I could go for, there is always something wrong with him.”

Maybe you should try women. But he knew better than to say that.

“Miss Hampton, his address, please.”

Five minutes later he was pulling on a pair of jeans, grabbed his service revolver and badge, and called Satchell, so he could take a force out to Ochie Woods Lane, and then Devon, so he could pick him up in one of the squad cars.

When Devon showed up, J.W. hopped in the car and said, “Tonight, Cisco and Poncho are gonna rock, buddy!”

The Twenty-Second Precinct – 9:36 p.m.

“All right. Everyone has their assignments. Use extreme precautions. We have two of our best officers inside that house, with a special young man. I want all three of them walking out of there alive. Make sure all exit roads from the house are blocked off. That includes any side roads, trails and so forth. Freddy gets no way out.

“And if you get the chance, terminate his ass with as much prejudice as you can find. Let’s go!”

Nine police cars ran the road without their sirens blaring, and they would maintain all silence when they came up along the edge of Ochie Woods Lane, a good mile from the house. From there, they left the cars behind and proceeded on foot, branched out, covering all the side roads and pathways.

Tonight, Freddy was going down.

Montie High School – 3:05 p.m.

The horn sounded.

“Look, Stevie. It’s Ed.”

“Yeah, and he’s early. Oh well. Call you tonight.”

“I do for you, Stevie.”

“Me too.”

They gave each other a quick kiss and he walked over to the Volvo, opened the door, and got in.

The Volvo drove away.

“You’re a little early.”

“Finished my reports faster than I thought I would.”

“Okay, but I thought you and mom did all your reports on Thursday’s.”

Shit.

“Change of plans.”

Freddy pulled over into an alley, braked fast, and reached inside the bag for a cloth smothered in chloroform, and grabbed hold of Stevie’s neck and pulled him in tight to his frame.

Stevie struggled to get away, but it wasn’t any use. In less than ten seconds, he was out like a light. In another minute, Freddy had him trussed tightly with duct tape across his mouth and the plastic restraints around his wrists.

He looked at his watch. 3:10. He had at least six minutes. Perfect.

Back At Montie High School – 3:16 p.m.

The horn honked.

Ellie looked up and was puzzled. She walked over to the Volvo. He mom wouldn’t be there to get here for a few more minutes.

“Hi, Mr. Manning. You decide to take me home, too? Where did you hide, Stevie?”

Now Ed had the puzzled look.

“I didn’t hide him anywhere.”

“Neat, Mr. Manning. You were just here a few minutes ago and picked him up and then took off.”

“You. Saw. Me?”

“Yes; as plain as I see you now.”

Another horn sounded.

“Oops, there’s my mom, gotta run. Tell Stevie, wherever he’s hiding, to not forget to call me tonight. Bye!”

Ed didn’t catch a thing she said. All he remembered is that he was already here and got Stevie.

Freddy!

He called Baker.

She picked up on the first ring.

“What’s going on, sweets.”

“Jan, are you at the office?”

“I’m about to be. I just pulled into the station’s parking-lot. Why?”

“We have a problem. A big problem. I’m on my way in.”

Baker’s Office – 3:22 p.m.

Ed raced up the steps and barged into Baker’s office.

“Has he called yet!”

“Has who called?”

“Freddy!”

“Why would Freddy want to call me….,” then she looked behind Ed. “Where is Stevie? Oh, my God, Ed! He has Stevie, doesn’t he!”

Ed explained how Freddy must have used his looks to fool Stevie into getting into the same make and colored Volvo.

Baker began to tremble.

“He has Stevie. Wh-wh-what are we going to do?”

“Remain calm for one thing. I don’t think he’ll hurt Stevie as long as he knows he has a chance to get to you and me. My guess is that he wants us both.”

Baker dialed another two-digit number.

“Satchell, Baker. I need you in my office quick as you can. It’s Freddy. He has Stevie.”

“On my way.”

A five-minute drive from the courthouse normally; Satchell hit the siren and did a good ninety. Can we say two minutes?

Satchell listened to Ed as he explained things again.

“You’re right. I suspect he will call when he’s ready. This sounds like the final showdown. We finally have a shot of bringing him down.”

“I can get Walter to place sensors on ….”

Ed’s cell rang. He looked at the phone. Out-of-area.

“It’s him.”

On the second ring, Ed picked up.

“Manning.”

Is this the same Edward Manning that married my sweet Janis, you overrated scum-bag. You need to listen to me, and not say a word.

You are to leave where you are, which I suspect you are with sweet Janis at this moment, and follow the instructions I’m going to give you. You will have sixteen minutes to be at the exact location I tell you, or the Gimp dies.

Follow Highway 60 until you get to Crescent and RR2116-A. That’s twenty miles away from where you are now. No other police or the boy dies.

Is sweet Janis in tears? Poor, poor baby. Tell her for me, I will console her later. Until then, you better get moving, you fuck stick. Time’s a-wastin’.

The call was terminated.

“I have to go right now. Crescent to RR2116-A, that’s all I know.”

Satchell called the shop on his phone.

“Walter, if you want to keep your job, you have thirty seconds to put a working tracking on Manning’s Volvo. Get it done!”

Baker grabbed Ed’s forearm.

“Ed, please, be careful.”

“Can do. Will do.”

“Love you, Ed.

“Ditto, Jan.”

They briefly kissed, and Ed was out the door.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Baker’s cell rang.

Baker grabbed Satchell’s coat sleeve.

“You might call Walter back and get a tracker put on my car. I have a feeling it’s Freddy again.

Satchell did as she asked when she said hello into her phone.

Ah, my dear, sweet Janis. You have no idea how it makes my heart soar to hear your lilting voice. I get these little sensations that tingle along my spine. Or is it just an approaching orgasm I feel coming soon, when I will be so close to fucking you to death, before, and after you are dead.

Do not say one-word, sweet Janis. Not one fucking word, or I will hang up, and cum inside your son’s ass, just like his daddy did to him all the time. And if he didn’t, he should have! Stevie would make a good bitch for some young hunks.

But I digress. When I am around you, I seem to lose my concentration. Now where was I—oh yes. I am sure that imbecile for a husband has told you where he is going. You are to go to the same place. Wait there for further instruction. Now, you can speak by saying, ‘Yes, my love, I will follow your instructions perfectly.’ Say it bitch! Now!

Baker swallowed twice. Shaking, but no longer out of fear, but of complete anger building within her.

“Yes, my love, I will follow your instructions perfectly.”

Could have been better, more emotion, but we haven’t the time. Hurry.

Baker was out of her chair like a rocket.

“I’ll have backup on the outer perimeter in place before he knows it.”

“NO! He meant what he said. He will kill Stevie. This is on me!”

Baker was out of the office and down the steps before Satchell finished what he was saying.

Crescent & RR2116-A – 3:46 p.m.

Ed spun his car into a half-circle and braked.

Before he stepped out of the car, he scanned the area. Not much to see other than some scrub-bushes and a few old, weather-beaten oak trees. He checked his service revolver, his trusty Smith & Wesson, Colt .45.

All I want is one shot. One clean hit. Freddy’ll be twins when I’m done with him.

Ed stepped slowly from the car.

He heard one branch crack and started to turn, hand on the butt of his Colt, and then things faded down into that realm he didn’t want to go to. He felt the pain, but he was falling asleep, too. Pain and sleep. Strange bedfellows were his final thought.

Freddy searched his entire body and found two guns. He tied Ed up with duct tape, just as he did Stevie after he got him home and put in place. Ed wouldn’t be able to cry for help.

He dumped Ed in the trunk of the Volvo. His Volvo.

Then, he took Ed’s car and drove it further down RRT2116-A until it was safely beyond a curve and unseen to human eyes.

Freddy resumed his position. Within minutes, sweet Janis will appear on the scene, and then it wouldn’t be long before the party could begin.

Another plan has gone well. Freddy loves perfection.

And, as expected, at 3:59, a red Hummer came onto the scene.

But there was no scene. No sign of Ed to indicate he had been here. Maybe Freddy gave him more instructions. Stepping out of her car, she slowly walked around the area. She did see some tire tracks leading further up the road.

She pulled out her .357 Magnum, short-barrel, and held it out in front of her, one hand on the grip, the other around the side to brace when it did fire. She had one finger poised lightly against the trigger.

She heard a noise just past a couple oak trees to her left next to some underbrush. Being cautious, she slowly side-stepped, not allowing to give her body away in case Freddy decided to shoot her right now. Anywhere but a head shot, and Baker would still have a chance to pop him a good one in the face.

As she stepped around several oak trees; she saw Ed slumped against one of them. He was unconscious. Putting her gun away, she ran over and knelt by his side. Cradling his head in her lap, she lightly jostled him.

“Ed? Ed! Talk to me, baby!” No response. She checked his pulse. Still alive.

She could see the eyes begin to flutter open, but they weren’t Ed’s eyes.

Before she could react, a searing, intense pain connected with the side of her head.