Saltar's Point (20 page)

TWENTY-ONE

Darrow cursed his mother’s grave, he cursed Randall Jackson, and he cursed everything else under the sun he could think of. It had cost him one-hundred-eighty-seven dollars and fifty cents to get his van out of impound. The smiley-toothed prick behind the counter at Mark’s towing had boiled his blood. I’d like to slice your belly open with a rusty blade, Darrow thought to himself as he coughed up the cash, managing somehow to control his rage.

Inside the van his temper subsided, at least for the moment. He had to get home. Abby would be hungry. The insatiable bitch needed food about every six hours and he had been gone almost twenty-four. His own stomach grumbled with hunger. He had been locked up without food and water and he was in no mood to deal with Abby’s shit. He stopped at the Burger King just outside of town and ordered two Whopper meals, king sized. He ate his burger on the drive home, saving the fries until he could dip them in ketchup. He pulled into the drive and headed for the front door.

It was good to be home. The manor reeked of stale air, the smell that accumulates when no one has been home for a while. Abby was upstairs in her bedroom of course. He dropped off the food and made his way back down into the kitchen where he finished his fries with ketchup and drained the bottom of his Coke. It was mid-morning but he was exhausted, sleep would do him good. He headed for the elevator and pulled the handle, feeling the motion in the pit of his stomach. When he reached the boiler room he stripped off his clothes and settled into the bed.

The demon came to him then. It sat at the edge of his bed and toyed with him.

Darrow. Wake up Jack. You and I have much to discuss.

Inside his brain his thoughts churned. He sat up and faced the demon, no longer afraid, but eager. Eager for instruction, and willing to do whatever it took to satiate the beast.

I need more Jack.

“I know.”

Your wife has become a nuisance.

“You’re just figuring that out now?”

Don’t be trite Darrow. I could end your life right now.

“You won’t, you need me.”

I NEED NOT A SOUL.
The demon spat, enraged at the defiance. The spittle stung Darrow’s face like acid, burning into his skin with a sick sizzling sound. Darrow rubbed his face with his hands, screaming in misery, only managing to rub it in deeper.

Defy me and I will show you the gates of hell!

“Forgive me!” Darrow screamed.

The demon was complacent, sitting at the edge of his bed and watching the boils rise upon Darrow’s flesh. At that moment Darrow could have sworn that he was already in hell. The beatings that his mother gave him could not compare to the agony he felt at the hands of the demon. He summoned strength he did not know he had and spoke to the demon calmly.

“Command me. I am yours.”

The woman must be killed.

“No, no there are others. I will bring them to you. I will sacrifice them before you. Please I beg of you. Let me bring those before you that will strengthen you.”

You are weak Darrow. You test my patience.

“There are others, I will bring them to you. I will bring you another.” His voice was childlike, the way he spoke to his mother before he sustained another beating.

Very well. Bring them to me, and we shall let your precious Abby live. And this time I want her alive. I want to feel her agony.

The demon disappeared, vaporizing before Darrow’s eyes like fog in the summer sun. The time was at hand. He needed another whore to satisfy his master. Tomorrow night he would hunt again.

TWENTY-TWO

The following day Darrow made a trip to the military supply store where he purchased a pair of handcuffs. Then he made his way over to the hardware store where he bought twenty-five feet of chain and four padlocks. Tonight was going to be an interesting adventure, one that he couldn’t wait to embark upon.

Sheila Bradley sat on the couch in the living room of the small one-bedroom apartment she shared with her boyfriend. He was acting up again. He had slapped her across the face, hard enough to draw blood this time. She reached up and touched her lip. When she pulled her hand back down her fingers were coated in a thin sheen of crimson.

“God damn it Jimmy, you made me bleed.”

“That’ll teach you to mouth off then.”

The TV was blaring, giving her a headache. Jimmy lay on the couch, rising only periodically to take a hit off the porcelain bong that rested on the small oak coffee table. The apartment was filthy. Just looking at it made her gag. Empty beer cans lay strewn about, on the table, the kitchen counter, and the floor, tilting precariously on their sides. The shag carpet had blotches on it, remnants of past meals and past parties. She had been living here for the last six months and it was beginning to wear on her. Jimmy had taken her in, and for that she guessed she owed him, but the deplorable conditions were not what she bargained for.

“When are you going to clean this dump?”

The look he gave her spoke more volumes than his words. “I’ll clean it when I get to it. You got a problem with it, then you clean the place.”

She opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it. She didn’t want to risk being slapped again. Once a day was about all she could stomach. As she peered at him she realized he made her sick. Perhaps Detective Jeremy was right, she was wasting her life. After all she was a smart girl. She could get her G.E.D. and enroll in school, the local community college would take her for sure. Then she wouldn’t have to waste her life in a dump like this. She rose from the couch and headed for the kitchen. She stopped just before the swinging door and looked back over her shoulder.

“I’m going to make some dinner, you want anything?”

Jimmy had just taken a hit from the bong, inhaling deeply. His voice came out in a hoarse whisper, speaking from the shallow part of his lungs, not wanting to let any of his precious bong smoke escape. “No, knock yourself out, I’m cool.”

The munchies hadn’t set in yet. When they did he would undoubtedly raid the fridge and the pantry, draining what little food they had. She pushed through the door and entered the kitchen. The living room looked like it had been cleaned by a professional maid service compared to the kitchen. Dishes, bowls, and glasses lay strewn about the counter, the table, and in the sink, holding a concoction of past meals that putrefied the air, and grew moldy hair it seemed by the second. She had to hold her breath to keep from gagging. She pulled the fridge handle and peered inside. Only remnants of food remained, a jar of pickles, expired mayonnaise, some ketchup, and a loaf of bread covered in green mold. God she hated this place.

“Jimmy, did you eat all the pizza?” She called out over her shoulder, raising her voice enough to carry into the living room.

“Sorry babe, got hungry earlier this morning.”

“Damn it Jimmy, that was my pizza. I paid for it.”

“Hey once it’s in the fridge it’s fair game, far as I’m concerned.”

“You at least could have asked, asshole.” She added the last word under her breath, making sure her voice was inaudible in the next room. She closed the fridge and opened the pantry. There she didn’t have any luck either, just a few cups of Top Ramen and some pancake mix, she wanted neither. Sheila reentered the living room and grabbed her keys off of the coffee table. She didn’t have a car but had learned from experience to take her keys whenever she went out. Jimmy had a nasty habit of passing out while she was gone, leaving her locked outside.

“I’m going to Jack in the Box. You want me to pick you up anything?”

He looked at her with bloodshot eyes. “Yeah sure, pick me up some tacos for later, and a large Coke.” She walked to the front door. “And why don’t you see if you can make any money while you’re gone. Rent’s coming up.”

“You want me to turn a trick at this hour? For Christ’s sake Jimmy, it’s almost two in the morning.”

“The landlord don’t give a shit when you make your money, long as he gets paid.”

Sheila sighed to herself and opened the door, slamming it shut behind her as she exited. God she detested him sometimes. The air outside was chilly, even this time of year. She zipped up her fleece vest, pulling the collar up around her mouth and nose. Her breath was warm and heavy beneath the fabric. The Jack in the Box was no more than a quarter mile from her apartment, but she hated the walk. For someone who turned tricks for a living she was extremely paranoid, always thinking that some sicko might abduct her someday and rape or kill her, or both. She had no idea how right she was.

Darrow spotted her immediately. Her long legs caught his eye and he marveled at the way her ass swayed seductively from side to side in her jeans as she walked. He took a drag off his cigarette, relishing the slow burn as the smoke filled his lungs. She would do nicely, his master would be pleased. He pulled the van up along side her, reaching across the passenger seat to unroll the window. The glass squeaked as it passed between the rubber linings. Sheila looked over at the potential john. Christ she wasn’t even hooking yet, how did he know? Somehow they always knew. They could smell it, like wolves encircling a wounded animal.

“Morning darling. Seems a little late for such a pretty thing as yourself to be walking around all alone.”

Sheila immediately detested the way he drawled out his esses. The sound whistled between the gap in his teeth, making her skin crawl. She put her hands on her waist.

“Who are you, the fucking safety patrol?”

“Now don’t get cross darling. Just looking for a little fun tonight.” He laughed a menacing little chuckle. “And you look like a girl who knows how to show a fellow a good time.”

Why the hell do I always get the weird ones?

“I’m off duty.”

“Well I got a thousand dollars that says you might like to get back to work.”

He withdrew a wad of cash from his wallet and held it up before her, spreading the bills enticingly within his hand. Sheila tried to keep her jaw from dropping. A thousand dollars was more cash than she could remember seeing in a long time. The hundred dollar bills glared out at her, seeming to glow in an austere green light. She normally charged fifty bucks for a blowjob and one hundred for anything else. The prospect of making ten times that amount made her skin prickle with excitement.

“You know I’m kind of hungry. Could you spare a little extra to buy a girl dinner?”

“No problem sweetheart, hop in.”

He pushed open the door. It rebounded slightly off its hinges before Sheila stopped it with her hands. She climbed inside and couldn’t help but notice that the van was filthier than her own apartment. The dirt on the vinyl seat puffed up as she sat down. If she had had a toilet seat protector she would have used it before setting her ass down in the putrid van. The smoke from Darrow’s cigarette burned her eyes, making them tear. She hated smokers, they smelled like shit and their breath could knock down a charging rhino.

“What do you want to eat darling?”

She pointed to the nearby restaurant. “Jack in the Box is fine.”

“A woman after my own heart. Fast food and fast living, that’s what I always say anyways.”

She did her best to force a smile. Darrow placed their order. Sheila got a sourdough burger combo for herself and ordered the monster tacos and Coke for Jimmy. She placed the food between the seats, without a clue that his food would go uneaten.

She took a bite from her burger, dreading the inevitable. She formed her words around the food as she chewed, which made them sound slurred and forced.

“So what do you have in mind?”

“Well darling, since I’m paying you good money, I expect an all night service, that sound fair to you?”

“Fair enough.” The burger in her mouth suddenly tasted like bile.

“My house is about thirty minutes from here, so buckle up.”

She slipped on the seatbelt, listening to it click as the steel buckle snapped together. “You going to drive me back home afterwards?”

He flashed his disgusting brown teeth at her again. “Don’t you worry about that now darling, I’ll make sure you get where you belong.”

The tone in his voice had an unsettling quality. They drove in relative silence, only broken when Sheila asked if she could change the radio station. Darrow didn’t care what she listened to. His heart was racing with anticipation.

Her eyes widened as he pulled up the gravel drive and parked beneath the carport. She hadn’t expected this, the house was enormous, not her usual fare of seedy apartments or flea infested hotels paid by the hour.

“Nice digs.”

“Thanks darling. Now why don’t we go inside and get ourselves a drink or two?”

Alcohol sounded great to her, it was always easier to turn a trick when she was tipsy. She opened the door and followed Darrow up the gravel path. The way the gravel crunched beneath her feet made her uneasy. Inside she held her breath as she looked around, the place was even more gargantuan than it appeared from the outside, much more highbrow than she was used to. Darrow traced a path to the kitchen. She followed behind, trying to play it cool. She didn’t want him to think that she was out of her element. He retrieved a bottle of Jack Daniel’s from the cupboard and withdrew two glasses. From the freezer he extracted a handful of ice and plinked the cubes into the glasses.

“I hope Jack and Coke is to your liking.”

“That’ll be fine.”

Darrow pulled two Cokes from the fridge and filled the glasses near to the rim, adding a splash of whiskey to each one.

“Cheers darling.” He raised his glass and then swallowed the drink in one long gulp. Sheila took a sip and forced herself to drink as the whiskey burned her throat. “Why don’t we head to the living room and make ourselves more comfortable?”

He grabbed the bottle of whiskey, showing her the door and heading to the living room couch. He was not one for furnishings that was for sure. The massive house was sparse, looking barren with its lack of furniture. She sat down on the dilapidated couch, taking a long slow sip of her drink as she did so. Darrow took a swig directly from the bottle.

“Let me freshen you up a bit.” He poured more whiskey into her glass until it was filled to the rim.

“Whoa, that’s good.” Sheila held her hands up, not wanting to get too drunk. The situation reeked of bad karma. The silence was awkward; she filled it with small talk. “So do you live here all by yourself?”

“Yesiree darling. Wife passed on about five years ago, and we never had any kids. So I guess you could say I’m the perennial bachelor.” Lies had always poured out of Darrow easily.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be darling, old wounds, nothing more to say about them. Why don’t we get this party started?”

“No time like the present.” She bit her lip, trying to hide her disgust.

“All right then.” He stood up. “My bedroom is downstairs.”

“You live in the basement?”

“Stays cool in the summertime darling. Now let’s get down there.”

She followed him to the elevator. Darrow pulled the handle and the elevator started with a jerk. Sheila was descending into the unknown. The thought made her queasy.

What the hell have I gotten into?

The elevator pitched forward with one final shutter and Darrow pulled open the brass door, pushing her forward simultaneously. The hallway was dark.

“Don’t you believe in lights?”

“Sweetheart there will be plenty of lights where we’re going.”

She followed him down the hallway, unaware that she was heading to certain demise. Inside the embalming chamber she did a double take, trying to make sure she believed what she was seeing.

“What in the hell is this?”

“Don’t concern yourself with that darling. This place used to be a funeral home, but it’s nothing more than a house now.”

He motioned her to the west wall where his bedroom laid waiting. She tried to do her best not to show her fear but it was growing on her like a cancer, forming inside the pit of her stomach one cell at a time. His room was sparse, mops and brooms adorned the south wall, making her feel like she was in a janitorial closet. His spring mattress bed sat against the far wall, stained and reeking of his sweat. The sight made her want to vomit; she shuddered as she thought about the acts she would perform upon it.

“Why don’t you go have a seat darling?”

He pointed his right hand at the bed. A small bit of bile formed in the back of
Sheila’s throat. She sat down on the bed and removed her shirt, letting her breasts bounce free before they were supported by her satin bra.

“Purple, I like that.”

His demeanor made her more self-conscious. She covered her breasts with her hands, concealing the purple bra beneath them.