Over Her Dead Body (10 page)

Chapter 10

Michael had
never been a violent man. H
e had been in only three fights. Ever.
H
e considered himself to be humble, fair, respectful of others, and always treated others the way he would want to be treated. But that didn’t mean he was unlearned in the ways of combat. In fact, his father had forced him to learn to fight at about the age of ten. Michael was on his way home from school. He lived just a little over a mile away. Too close for the busses, but too far on a rainy day. But that day, the sun was shining. It was hot. Very hot. Michael’s backpack weighed more than he did and the straps were cutting into his shoulders with each bounce. Michael had just crossed a street and had cut through a church parking lot. There was a shortcut this way that knocked about five minutes off his walk home. There was a grassy hill in the back of the church. Michael made his way down it. He was staring at the ground as he walked, lost in space. Well, it wasn’t space that occupied it. It was Sarah. She had passed him a note today at the end of math class. He took a minute to read it before walking home and was replaying it in his mind. She had asked him to the Saity Hawkins dance. He liked the girl, but just wasn’t much of a dancer. If he went, she would be expecting him to dance with her.

Michael was trying to picture him dancing with a girl when a rock bounced off his cheek. He immediately doubled over, cupping his cheek. Blood began to drip through his fingers. Two boys stood laughing at the bottom of the hill. Mike Cofner and Jacob Brask. They were both laughing and pointing.

Michael looked at the boys and then at his hand with blood all over it. He had never seen so much blood. He decided the shortcut wasn’t such a good idea today and turned and headed back up the hill.

“Where ya goin sissy?” Jacob hollered from behind. Michael heard foot thuds as both boys ran up the hill behind him. He was almost at the top when a hand grasped his heavy backpack and pulled him backward. The bag weighing more than himself, took the side of gravity and propelled him backward to the ground. Over and over, Michael rolled to the bottom of the hill. Both boys were on him immediately, kicking and punching. Michael barely knew them. He hadn’t done anything to these guys. He had seen them from time to time beat on other kids though.

Michael curled into a ball and suffered about two minutes of kicks and punches. Then one of them saw another young boy that must have deserved a beating because they abandoned Michael and left him for death. Well, he felt like death anyway. More likely sore ribs, black eye, cuts, and a bruised ego. Michael managed to pick himself up and drag himself home. When he walked in the door, he did not get the pitiful reaction he had expected. His father, John, had been in the Special Forces. He was upset, but more at himself than Michael, for not having taught his son how to defend himself.

John was kneeling before Michael with a cloth wiping away the blood. He went to the sink, rinsed it out and kneeled down before him again. He dabbed gently at Michael’s busted lip and dotted up the blood. “We start tomorrow.” He said. “After school. You understand?” Michael nodded at his dad. His mouth was too sore to be asking a bunch of questions, but he was fairly certain his dad intended to teach him how to fight. And teach he did. Until the end of school and the rest of the summer, Michael’s dad taught him how to defend himself in all the ways he knew how.

“Michael,” his dad had said to him one day. “I’ve never taught you these things because I didn’t want you to become a bully. You have to understand, the more you fight, the more fights will come to you. The best way to win a fight is to avoid it. The moment you have to strike another human being, you’ve already lost. A little piece of you dissapears each time.” He tapped Michael on his heart to emphasize. “Can you understand that?”

“Yes dad. Don’t fight unless there is no other choice.” Michael said. Michael’s dad nodded, happy that his son understood. He embraced him. “I love you son. I’ve only taught you these things because one day it might save your life, or someone else’s. I hope you never have to use what I’ve taught you.”

Michael had, on two other occasions needed to use the skills that his father had taught him. There was never a fight really. Michael’s defense was good and swift, and
he
was able to make his point before he ever had to strike anybody. He had taken what his father had told him to heart. He had avoided fighting on almost every occasion. But now, here he found himself in a dark basement with two men, not unlike the two boys who had beaten him so many years ago. He was wet, cold, and sore. He was trembling. One man held his head to the table and the other was dropping his pants, hell bent on raping him. Michael’s mind had been cloudy from the waterboarding. It was quickly clearing as he assessed the situation. He wasn’t likely to die here. He figured the two officers had a name, and now were about to get what they were really after in the first place. He would then be dr
agged
back to the station and charged with murder. He was sure of it. And if he himself was on the jury, would he not convict any man who had been digging up a body in the woods at midnight? His dad’s words echoed in his mind: “The best way to win a fight is to avoid it.” Was there any way to avoid it? Certainty of rape, certainty of a life sentence or worse. He had to go. He needed to understand what was going on. Who was the girl? How had
he
found her? How did she die? He would not go down this way. He would not live out the rest of his life as a murderer. The decision was made. There was a clank on the floor as Frank’s belt hit the concrete. Michael felt two hands grab him from behind.

Chapter 11

Detective James was still at the crime scene. The body had been unearthed. It was Maria. It had to be. Her description and clothing matched the information her sister had given about her. She had been shot twice. Once in the abdomen and the other in the head. The coroner ruled the shot to the head as the likely cause of death, but said she would likely have died anyway because of the injury to her abdomen coupled by the fact the nearest decent ER was over forty miles away. The girl never had a chance.

Detective James scribbled down some thoughts in his notebook while waiting for the last of the soil samples to be bagg
ed. The girl had been hefted on
to a large tarp. It was important to capture any loose trace that might fall off her clothes on the way to the lab. Two CSI personnel grabbed the tarp at each end and carried the girl off toward the vehicles. Detective James looked in the direction that the sheriff had gone and wondered how he was doing with the wife. Shitty part of the job. He thought. He looked down at the two remaining CSI’s who were shovelin
g the last of the dirt into Zip
loc bags that were about two feet wide and two feet long. “That’s the last of it
D
etective.” The younger one said. He had red curly hair and freckles. He looked smart. Probably was. Most of the CSI team here were over qualified for this little town. Many of them were brilliant. The best CSI’s were filling in the little towns because the big cities had gone broke and weren’t able to afford them. It crushed their dreams of working a big city, but there were always small cities that would swipe them up for half the pay they would have gotten in the big city. The other CSI was a woman. She was a few years older. She had brown hair pulled back into a pony tail. There was dirt smeared on her face and nose. Detective James looked from one to the other. “I appreciate you guys getting out here so quick. I’ve got one more thing I need you to do when you’re done though.”

“What’s that?” The red haired CSI asked wiping his sleeve across his forehead.

“I’ve got someone bringing out four metal detectors. I’d like both of you and two officers to sweep the crime scene with them. The weeds are high which makes finding anything by sight alone tough. We didn’t come up with any shell casings and there should be two or more. Start at the road and do a twenty five yard grid and extend it past the hole by twenty five yards. Any questions?” The CSI’s looked at each other and nodded their heads. “Good. I’m heading in to question the perp. I’ll check in with you guys later.” They nodded and Detective James headed toward the road. The sheriff was right about one thing; It
is
going to be a long night.

Chapter 12

The human brain is an amazing thing. Like a computer, it can do the most complex calculations in a fraction of a second. A person can get lost in a thought or daydream and what may seem to go on for hours in their head, may have all taken place in only five seconds of reality. When Michael felt two hands grab hold of him from behind, there was instant clarity and his mind began calculating and assessing the situation. Like a grandmaster chess player calculating his next move, Michael ran through many scenarios in his head attempting to predict several moves ahead and their outcomes.

It all came down to a gun. There were two of them. Gary’s was around his waist and Frank’s was lying on the floor, around his ankles with his pants. If his hands weren’t handcuffed behind his back, he would have a fighting chance. But with hands clasped tightly behind him, his brain was having a difficult time pinning down a winning scenario. If he went for either gun, the other officer was likely to pull his own before Michael could get one in his hands and aimed properly behind his back.

There was no winning scenario. Michael knew it after running half a dozen options through his mind in a second. Each attempt to escape ended with him getting shot. There was one scenario in which the outcome was uncertain. He would blast his foot backward into Frank’s knee hopefully breaking it. He would then kick Frank straight back into the upper chest which would disorientate him and knock the wind out of him depending on whether or not he was wearing a bullet proof vest. As Frank was falling backward, Michael predicted that Gary would release his hold in shock and possibly go for his weapon.
Michael
would then head butt the officer in the face, spin around so his back was to him and grab the gun from his holster. It was all just speculation. If one thing went wrong, Michael would die. Death didn’t seem like such a bad option when faced with being raped and life imprisonment.

“Aw look
at that Gary. He’s as gentle
as a pussy cat. He’ll fit right in with them big boys in prison now won’t he?” Frank said to Gary.

Gary laughed. “He’ll be somebody’s bitch alright.”

“He’ll be my bitch first. This is for the girl you killed asshole.”

Frank was about to make his move and Michael wasn’t going to wait to be violated before acting. He thrust his foot backward into Frank’s knee as hard as he could. He heard it break. He thrust kicked Frank. Hard. In the chest. Frank flew back against the wall clutching his chest trying to breathe. As Michael predicted, Gary released his hold and turned toward Frank, eyes wild in disbelief. Michael stood up and smashed his forehead right into Gary’s nose. Blood came pouring out and Gary cried out in pain.

“Oh my nose! My fucking nose! You broke it. You Fuck!” Michael spun and was pushing him back toward the wall, feeling and trying to find his belt and get his hand on Gary’s gun. Michael’s hands were so tightly bound and swollen he couldn’t hardly move them much less grasp anything. He was watching Frank who was starting to breathe easier. Michael saw that Frank was beginning to lower himself in order to reach for his gun. Michael moved fast. He let off of Gary and ran straight over to Frank and threw a roundhouse kick hard at his face. Frank’s head exploded back into the wall and Frank slid down to the floor unconscious. A shot rang out that sent concrete spattering by Michael’s face. Concrete exploded from the wall stinging his face and the bullet ricochet
ed
around the room. Michael ducked down and moved closer to the table he had been strapped to.

“Fuck!” The young officer shouted out. “You fucking shot me! I’m hit.”

Michael hesitated. He hadn’t shot him. The ricocheting bullet must have got him.
That dumb cop thinks I have Frank’s gun
. Michael thought for a moment;
how can I use this?
Then it hit him. “Gary, I’ve got Frank
'
s gun aimed right at you.” Gary was still swearing though much quieter. It sounded more like pouting. “You’ve got until the count of three to drop your weapon and kick it under the table.”

“But..but..”

“One…”

“How do I know you won’t just shoot me anyway?” Gary was near tears.

“Two…keep holding that gun Gary and you’ll find out for sure.”

“But I.. “

“Three!” Gary’s gun hit the floor and he kicked it under the table. Michael was still just out of his sight. Michael smiled and shook his head. He looked back toward Frank. He was still out.

“Please don’t kill me.”

“You want to live Gary?” Michael asked.

“Ye..yes.”
Weird how he doesn’t sound so tough now
. Michael thought.

“Then listen to me very closely and do exactly what I say and I’ll let you live. Throw the keys to your cuffs under the table.”

Gary did as he was instructed. The keys hit the concrete under the table. Michael looked at them. He wanted to grab them desperately and get out
of the
handcuffs
.
B
ut to do that, he would have to flip upside down on his back which would make him vulnerable and give Gary too much time to build up courage and come up with a plan.

“Good. We’re almost done now and then I’ll be on my way. You still want to live?”

“Yes.” The response was quiet. “I…I’m shot.”

“Yes, I know. I’ll call an ambulance before I leave
,
you have my word. Where are you shot at?”

“My arm.”

“Ok, do exactly as I tell you and you’ll live through this.” There was no response. “Take your shirt and vest off and throw it on the floor by the table.” Michael said.

“My…my shirt?”

“Do it now Gary or I’ll fucking shoot!” Michael yelled. He looked back toward Frank. Frank’s head moved a little. He was going to come to. A shirt fell to the floor in front of the table.

“I don’t have a vest on.”

“Then you’re an idiot. Cuff yourself behind your back. If they’re not cuffed as tight as mine were I’m going to break all your fingers. You got that Gary?”

“I got it.” There was the sound of chains and then the unmistakable sound of cuffs being closed. One. Then another. Michael looked back toward Frank. His eyes were open and staring right at him. Michael Froze. Frank would be able to see Michael clearly. He’d know that he doesn’t have a gun. He’d know that he was still vulnerable.

Michael remained frozen for a second. He could hear his heart beating loudly in his ears. Is this where he would die? Naked in a dirty basement of a vacant house where nobody would find him for months? Visions of April passed through his mind. She was dressed in black and crying. It was his funeral. He could see his parents, her parents, friends… Then he saw something else. Frank wasn’t looking at him…he was looking through him. He was still out of it. Probably had blurry vision. Frank closed his eyes.

Michael reached under the table with his foot and slid the keys toward him and dropped to the ground on his butt. He was still watching Frank. Frank’s eyes had opened again. Michael could tell he was trying to regain his focus. Frank began to stir.

Michael’s hands had clasped the keys. The blood had begun to flow and there was just enough feeling in them to tell when they had grasped something solid.

“Ca…can I go now?” Gary’s voice echoed from behind the table.

“Gary, you put your face up against that wall and keep it there. You’ll get out of here soon enough.” Michael said. Frank seemed to stir even more now with the sound of the voices. He was beginning to focus his eyes on Michael. Frank
'
s eyes suddenly went wide and he sat up with a jolt. He looked at Michael and then looked down at his pants. His gun was not visible but would be under them, in the holster attached to his belt. Frank sat up and leaned forward. He started feeling through his pants, trying to find his gun.

Michael began to panic. His hands were shaking and he was having a hard time getting the key into the keyhole. Frank had located the lump where his gun appeared to be and was flipping over his pants. Michael felt the key go in. He turned the key and the lock clicked and let loose. His hands were free. Frank had his holster in his hands and looked up at the sound of the cuffs clicking. But it was too late. Michael was pointing Gary’s gun directly at him.

“Don’t even think about it.” Michael said. Frank paused and then let the holster drop back onto his pants.

“Wha…what’s going on over there? Frank? Frank?” Gary’s voice was shaky.

“We’re fucked you idiot. That’s what’s going on.” Frank’s voice was weak. He still hadn’t recovered from the kick to the head. Michael stood up but kept the gun trained on Frank.

“Stand up!” Michael ordered Frank.

“I can’t you fucking asshole. You broke my goddamn knee.”

“Then I guess you better use the other one and stand the fuck up!” Michael was angry. He was tired. And he was dirty. And he needed to let April know he was ok.

Frank just sat there and shook his head as if to say ‘Nope. Go fuck yourself.’”

“I’m in my fucking rights to kill you right now and I’ll do it. I’m leaving this place in five minutes w
he
ther you are alive or dead. So if you want to live to rape some other poor innocent fucker, then I suggest you do what I say and do it now!” Michael’s voice had worked its way into rage.

Frank looked Michael directly in the eyes and found no sign of weakness. There was nothing there to suggest that Michael wouldn’t shoot him if he didn’t do what was instructed. Frank struggled but managed to get himself up and stood on one leg. He kept his right leg slightly elevated off the floor.

“Take your shirt off.” Michael ordered. Frank just stared at him. “You didn’t seem to have a problem undressing
me
,
now did you?”

“Well we’re not little girl rapists either now are we?” Frank retorted but started unbuttoning his shirt.

“Well, we know
you’re
a rapist now don’t we?” Michael retorted. Frank threw his shirt on the floor by Michael’s feet. He was still wearing a vest and a t-shirt.

“Vest and t-shirt too.” Michael said while still pointing the gun at him.

Frank hefted the vest over his head and dropped it onto the floor. He grabbed his t-shirt from the bottom and almost fell over trying to get it over his head while balancing on his left foot. Frank pulled it over his head and dropped it onto the floor. He looked pale.
Probably from pain
from
the broken knee
. Michael thought. There w
ere
blood smears on his face and it glistened in the lamplight. Frank was now naked and vulnerable. Michael looked over at Gary who was watching the commotion silently. “Put your face against the wall and turn the other direction!” Michael yelled but kept the gun pointed at Frank. He noted that Gary still had on a t-shirt. He wanted them both to feel as cold and violated as he had felt.

Michael looked back at Frank. “Get over to the table and lean over it.” Michael signaled with the gun.

“What are you going to do, pop my cherry? See Gary, I told you this asshole’s a rapist.” Frank started hopping on his left foot toward the table. Gary stood quietly. Frank started to fall because his pants were still wrapped around his ankles. He caught himself on the table and pulled himself up and over so most of his weight was supported by the table. His left foot was still on the ground and his right foot was slightly off the ground.

Michael bent down by Frank’s right foot and grasped his shoe and pulled and twisted to get it off. Frank howled out in pain from the pressure on his broken knee.

“Owww..you asshole!” Frank yelled. His shoe popped off and gave some relief from not having the weight of his shoe bearing on his knee.

“Lift your other foot.” Michael commanded.

Frank put all his weight on his belly across the table and lifted his other foot. Michael twisted the
shoe off and his pants and
tighty whities
fell off in a pile. Michael grabbed the keys off the floor and undid the other cuff still attached to his left wrist.

“Put your hands behind your back.” Michael commanded. He expected Frank to mouth off with more insults and degradations but none came. Frank put his hands behind his back. Michael cuffed him and tightened them until Frank cried out in pain. Michael smiled at this and then grabbed his legs and hoisted him up, naked, onto the table face down.

Michael approached Gary from behind and placed the gun against the back of his neck. “You still want to live?” Michael asked.

Gary nodded. “Yes.” He said quietly.

“Then do exactly as I tell you. Kick your shoes off.”

“Wha…what?”

“I didn’t stutter, kick you damn shoes off or so help me…”

“No…no…I got it. I’m taking them off.” Gary scraped one foot against the other until both shoes were off.

“Good, now walk over to the table.” Michael said.

Gary’s eyes widened at seeing his partner handcuffed and naked on the table. He walked up and stopped at the table’s edge in the middle.

“Good. Now lean over.” Michael pushed Gary’s back forcing him to fall over onto his partner. Gary landed face first onto Frank’s bare ass. He quickly tried to pull himself up but felt a hand on the back of his neck. “I think you can stay right where you’re at. Don’t you dare move!” Michael said. Gary stopped pushing and kept his face planted face down in Frank’s ass crack.