The Straight Crimes (25 page)

“Of course not.”

“You never wanted me to be with Nik, but I couldn’t understand why ‘til now. You’re heterophobic.”

Traci folded her arms and glared. “That’s not true.”

“Sure it is. You’re so worried about what everyone else thinks that it’s pathetic. I can’t believe you’d stop talkin’ to your own mother just ‘cause she found a man.”

“This is an obscene defamation of character, and I won’t stand for it. My mother’s life is none of your frickin’ business.”

“Oh, but what is, the romance between you and I, you know, the one you made up in your head?”

“Harper...”

“How could I’ve been so blind? Nik’s been sayin’ you’ve wanted me for months, but I never listened. I’ve been defendin’ you from the very beginnin’. I told him we were just good friends, but this whole time you’ve been lyin’ to me and everyone else. You’re real sick.”

Traci dabbed the tears from her eyes. “Harper, please let me explain—”

“What’d you think would happen after I moved in, that I’d suddenly fall in love with you and change my mind about bein’ with Nik?”

“Harper—”

“I’ve brushed off all your lil’ comments like they were nothin’. You thought I was too stupid to realize the truth, but I see it now.”

“That’s not true—”

“I’m done livin’ in your fantasy world. I’m never gonna fall in love with you, Traci. Takin’ me in and feelin’ sorry for me could never change who I am. Maybe you thought I was pathetic enough to fall for your stupid plan, but the only pitiful thing I see right now is you!”

“Harper, you don’t mean that.” Traci wept uncontrollably as she looked into the beautiful face that had captured her heart. Even through the rage, she still saw the woman that her entire body burned for.

“Yeah, I do. You’re a big joke.”

“I shouldn’t have told anyone that we’re dating, but I can’t help myself. We belong together. Don’t you see that?”

“No, and I never will. Neither does anyone else. 
You
 are the only one who can’t see the truth.”

“Please Harper,” Traci pleaded. “Don’t do this to me.”

“You make me sick. Not only are you delusional—your heart’s so ugly. I used to think you were kind, but now I see how nasty you truly are. Honestly, I don’t think there’s any good left inside of you.”

“Yes there is. I swear to God. I’ve been trying desperately to show that side of me. Can’t you see that?”

“You’ve disrespected me, you’ve degraded Kendall, and you’ve humiliated yourself. Sorry, those aren’t the qualities I’m lookin’ for in a friend. I don’t want anything else to do with you. I’m leavin’.”

Traci fell to her knees. “No, you’ve got me all wrong. Please stay—”

Harper escaped into the pouring rain. She looked back, annoyed to see Traci helplessly following her. “Go back inside.”

Her flowing blonde hair and Lucille gown were instantly drenched. “Not unless you come with me.”

“I’m done with you. I’m goin’ to Nik’s.”

“You can’t, Harper. I need you.”

“That’s exactly my point—it’s always about what you need. My entire life has crashed down around me, but you’re the one out here cryin’ and carryin’ on. It sure seems like you’re real concerned. You can’t even admit that you’re selfish.”

“That’s ‘cause I’m not,” Traci cried. “I care about you, Harper. And I cared about my mother deeply—”

“Then why does this party you threw in 
her honor
 have nothin’ to do with Andrea? It’s all an excuse for you to flaunt yourself.”

“I wouldn’t go to all this trouble just for me. I wanted to commemorate her.”

“If you really cared about honorin’ her memory, you’d tell everyone the truth about her sexuality and who she was. Instead, you’re usin’ her death to help yourself move up on the social ladder. I see right through you, Traci, and so does everyone else.”

“I have a good heart, I swear—”

“I’m gone. Now you can go back to worryin’ about yourself. Unlike you, I was upset over 
my
 mama’s death, and I’d like to be able to finally grieve for her. I’m gonna go be with someone who really cares about me. I’d rather spend time with someone who’s makin’ sure I’m all right, not someone too busy worryin’ how they’re seen by others.”

“Harper, no—”

“And now I’ll have to comfort him too, after I break the news that his father’s dead.”

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“Nik’s father, Patrick, ran away to Port Vista with a woman. That woman was your mother, Andrea.”

Traci adamantly denied the allegation.

“’C’mon, it ain’t that hard to figure out. ‘ Course unless you still think I’m too dumb to see it. That’s the other reason you don’t like Nik, isn’t it?”

“That’s not true. I had no idea—”

“Shut your mouth. I’m done listenin’ to your lies.”

“No, this isn’t over.”

“Yes it is. Goodbye.” Harper disappeared in the thrashing storm.

“Harper, come back!” Traci begged, sprinting into the street.

After nearly making it to the end of the road, her high heel broke, and she collapsed on her face.

Traci helplessly curled up against the cold, wet pavement. After a moment of self-pity, she struggled to her feet and caught the end of her dress under her other foot. It ripped the subtle train of her gown, causing her to fall again.

Through her devastation, Traci couldn’t harness the strength to pick herself up a second time. Instead, she folded her arms and sobbed into the saturated road, rolling on her back and letting the rain wash away her tears. Her entire body was completely drenched.

Kendall, who kept a watchful eye from the glass pane of the front window, quickly raced to her aid. “Traci, I’m coming!”

Although she heard the maid, she was inconsolable.

Kendall rubbed her face and hoisted her upright. “C’mon, get up. Traci, are you okay?”

No matter what she tried, there was no calming her down. She was hysterical.

“You’ve gotta breathe!”

Between rain dumping into her mouth and the uncontrollable sobbing, she shouted over and over, “Harper ran away—she’s gone! She’s never coming back!”

By the time Harper reached Nik’s place, her teeth were chattering and her makeup had run down her face.

As she knocked on his door, she was startled by a pickup truck, roaring its engine and racing away from the front of Nik’s house.

Harper looked over her shoulder and watched it speed off into the night. It made her uneasy, especially since she hadn’t even noticed the vehicle in her distraught state.

“Harper!” H
e was startled. Nik charged through the screen and hugged her. “Are you all right?” He quickly pulled the sweater off his body and wrapped it around her.

“I need you, Nik. I can’t go back there.”

“Of course not.”

While Nik kissed her forehead and squeezed her cold body, she closed her eyes and sobbed into his warmth and compassion.

“You’re frozen. Hurry up and get inside before you catch a cold.”

Harper wiped the mascara from her eyes. “What about your daddy?”

Nik motioned towards the house. “Don’t worry, he’s passed out. Besides, there’s no way I’m leaving you out here, or letting you go back to Traci’s. We’ll figure something out. I’ll take care of all that. Right now I just wanna get you dried off and safe.”

She sniffled. “Are you sure?”

“I’m gonna take care of you.” Nik’s striking eyes twinkled in the dark as he cocked his head to the side and stared into Harper’s. Looking down at her beautiful, troubled face, he could feel her tumultuous pain shooting through every part of his body. It broke his heart for the woman he loved so deeply. He would’ve done anything to ease her ache. It was at that moment that he knew with absolute certainty that they’d become one in the same person, feeling everything the other one felt.

Nik placed his hands on her cold face and looked her up and down. Then he slowly opened his mouth and covered hers with a kiss.

For Harper, feeling Nik’s soft lips pressed against her mouth prompted tears. She reached around his neck and softly ran the tips of her manicured nails through the ends of his black hair.

Nik calmed her anxiety. With so much uncertainty, it was comforting to know Harper could truly rely on him. There was no way she would ever let him go. Nik was the only person she had left in the world.

He gently put his arm over her shoulders. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Harper began to follow him, but stopped herself. She pulled him back by his hands. “What a second, babe.”

“Yeah?”

“There’s somethin’ I’ve gotta tell you, somethin’ about your father.”

“My father?” Nik looked stunned.

Her heartbeat strummed slowly. Thinking beyond the sweet moment they just shared, she was reminded of the devastation she’d uncovered.

“Harper?” Nik waved his hand in front of her face. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this.”

“Just say it, come out with it.”

Harper closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Your father’s gone.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he’s
 
gone
, babe. Your father died.”

“What?” Nik squinted into the darkness, trying to wrap his mind around her haunting words. He wasn’t certain he’d heard correctly.

“I couldn’t believe it myself. I found out tonight durin’ the party. He was boatin’ on Lake Michigan durin’ a storm with Traci’s mother, Andrea. She was the woman he ran off with. They both drowned.”

It was too shocking, too much to comprehend. Suddenly, all of Nik’s strength wavered. He completely broke down.

As she held him, Harper told him the entire story, every detail she learned about Patrick and Andrea.

For Nik, it was as if everything stopped. In a single instance, that lingering shred of hope he’d always had for his father’s return was taken away. Patrick was truly gone forever. And Nik had to face losing him all over again.

TWENTY-THREE

A
side from some rumbling thunder, it was unnervingly quiet. The silence was deafening, almost maddening in its intensity. The inaudible stillness forced him to think, allowing his twisted thoughts to run wild. It filled the empty room so heavily that its massiveness nearly suffocated the killer’s diseased mind.

His hand trembled while he took a slow, pensive drag off a cigarette. Its sure softness was the only comfort in that moment while being surrounded by his inner demons and bloody visions. Not only had the terrors plagued his nightmares—they began to infiltrate every second of his existence.

Nothing seemed as great as it did in the beginning, especially the elusive lifestyle. It was incredibly lonesome…sitting alone in the dark didn’t help.

The lightning flashed across his scowl, illuminating the unoccupied space. It reminded him of his isolation, his loneliness, and his enslavement to their elusive, murderous repertoire.

The storm was reminiscent of that pivotal night so long ago, when all the madness began. To the pair of them, it had all seemed like a game, but in reality, it was something far more sinister…

It had only been one year earlier. In the middle of the night, while on the veranda in the blackness and pouring rain, the killer had stood alone, stalking his prey. His eyes glowed in pure malevolence, transfixed on the target—Patrick Roberts.

 
That late-October evening was ice cold, so glacial his breath, slowly exhaling from his flared nostrils, fogged the glass door.             

Inside, Patrick pulled the plush ivory throw up to his scruffy neck and stirred in deep slumber. After some late-night reading, he’d fallen asleep on the sofa as he’d done many times before.

The room was devoid of noise, aside from the steady click of the antique clock over the mantle and the soft crackle of the fire place. Its dim light cast an ominous glow through the darkness, revealing that he was unaccompanied. 

The man intently watched Patrick sleep for nearly fifteen minutes. Staring at Patrick was comical, knowing he was totally oblivious to their horrific plot. It was so utterly hysterical that the stranger had to cover his mouth, refraining from releasing a raucous howl.

A small voice of reason momentarily sounded in his ear, desperately screaming in opposition, but his thoughts were competing with strong feelings of contempt and revenge. 

While staring at Patrick, all the events replayed in his mind, feeding his thirsty rage. Any chance of retreat was devoured by indignation. The maniac could not be stopped.

After relishing in the excitement of the moment, he slowly crept down the old, wooden steps leading to another set of glass doors, which opened to the exposed lower-exterior of the magnificent house.

Through the spaces of the overhead boards, the stranger felt heavy rain drops pelting him as if to cool his fiery flesh. Then he pulled out a black ski mask, with a voice scrambler affixed over the mouth, and covered his head.
 

It only took a few forceful tugs for the flimsy lock to unlatch and for the intruder to make his way inside. Although he’d made more noise than anticipated, he didn’t care. He was fearless in his pursuit.

Adrenaline pumped through his body. His heartbeat pulverized his eardrums with each step he took up the carpeted stairs to the living room.

The stranger breathed heavily through the mask as he stood at Patrick’s feet. Excitement charged through his veins and made his heart jump. Then he ominously tilted his head to the side and glared down at his mark.

After weeks of plotting, it seemed too easy. How he’d hoped for a greater challenge.

Without taking his eyes off Patrick, the intruder cautiously made his way around to the other side of the couch. The thrill heightened with each creak of the floorboards.

With anticipation mounting, he carefully knelt down and opened his backpack. From inside, he produced a black trash bag and lifted it away from his body. The power coursed through the ends of his fingers as he held it mere inches from Patrick’s unsuspecting face. 

The intruder paused a brief moment, captivated by the exhilaration. There was a sadistic part of him that wanted a vicious battle—especially because he knew he’d win. More than anything, the man wanted to hear Patrick’s bloodcurdling screams while he begged for his life.

“Wake up!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. His voice was warped and gruff.

Patrick looked up and saw the masked figure with wide, crazy eyes staring down at him.

Before he could do anything, the intruder forced the bag over his head.

“Get off!” Patrick’s muffled voice ordered. Everything happened so fast he couldn’t think. He fought feverishly to move his hands to his neck, fighting with the intruder who’d already tied the bag around his throat.

Through his dark ski mask, the stranger smiled in uninhibited pleasure. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

The stranger didn’t respond, but continued squeezing the bag tighter.

In a desperate attempt to free himself, Patrick violently swung his fists and managed to grab hold of the intruder’s shirt, pulling him down. The impact split the glass coffee table and shattered three decorative glass bowls across the wooden floor.
 

Patrick quickly sat up. His mind was racing. For a moment, he thought he was in the middle of a nightmare, but the fear was far too real and the pain far too great.

Before Patrick could pull the bag off his head, the stranger lunged at him. 

Their fists flew through the air as they scuffled, rolling around the crushed glass and boards.
 

Then the intruder reached for one of the broken pieces and jabbed a large shard into Patrick’s arm.

He moaned and writhed in pain, feeling the blood run down his elbow.

It gave the madman an opportunity to push Patrick down and wrap his arms around his throat, squeezing his biceps like a boa constrictor, anxiously trying to drain the life out of him.

However, Patrick was tenacious. He winced while pulling the piece of glass from his arm. 

Without hesitation, he reached back and stabbed the stranger in his thigh. Almost as quickly, he found another piece and sliced the masked man’s skin from the back of his ear down the side of his neck.
             

The intruder howled in anguish, reacting by straddling Patrick’s body and slamming him against the wood. The intense, shooting pain and blood shed were exhilarating. Every second was a high, each one greater than the last. The buildup was better than he’d planned, but he wanted more.

After a moment, Patrick blindly punched the man in the jaw and knocked him backwards. Then he used his elbows to pull himself away. He shuddered from the deep pain of the gaping wound in his forearm, relentlessly scrambling to elude the psycho.

However, before Patrick could get away, the man tugged at his feet and pulled him across the shattered glass. Each sharp piece sliced and scratched his skin.

From the staircase, Andrea prudently stepped down and witnessed the masked stranger assaulting her lover. Her chest heaved as she held her breath in fright. 

Trying to think quickly, she grabbed a silver music box from the sofa table in the foyer and cautiously tiptoed with her back against the wall. Her movements were swift, but slow enough not to draw attention.

Just as Andrea reached the entryway, the intruder hog tied Patrick face down on the floor.

With her line of sight transfixed on him, she slowly approached and held the music box in her shaking hands, ready to strike.

Suddenly, she lost her footing over the broken glass and tripped to the ground. The box slammed against the wooden floor, causing an unmistakable thud.

At the same moment, the man looked up and spotted Andrea. He stood to his feet and began walking towards her.

“Andi, get outta here!” Patrick yelled, knowing he’d heard his girlfriend. He contorted his body to break free.

“Pat!” she cried. Her fear ignited when she saw the intruder approaching. Andrea screamed at the top of her lungs, helplessly sobbing.

“Get the hell out,” he ordered.

The man pulled a small hand pistol from the crook of his jeans and pointed the barrel at her. In that brief moment, his seething rage gave him false belief that he was superhuman, almost invincible.
 

Andrea froze as she saw the gun.

“Run, Andi!” Patrick shouted.

Before she made it to her feet, the intruder lined up his shot and fired a bullet into her arm.
 

Andrea shrieked, collapsing on impact. It was the worst pain she’d ever felt. Those moments were hazy. All she could do was hope that he’d thought he’d finished her off—and that she wouldn’t be killed.

“Andi!” Patrick sobbed. He fought with every fiber of his being until he found another piece of glass and feverishly sawed the rope that bound him.

The intruder charged towards Andrea and kicked her in the side.

“Get up,” he demanded in his warped voice.

Andrea held her breath through the blow and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping he’d back off.

“Leave her the hell alone!” Patrick jumped on the man’s back, fighting for the gun in his hands.

 
              They rolled over each other, scuffling to gain control. Both men had a strong grip and a burning need for the firearm.             

The intruder fired a second shot into the wall. The sound of the ricochet caused Andrea to screech.

“Andi, go!”

“I’m not leaving you, Pat.”

“Damn it, I said go!”

 
              Every ounce of reason told her to race out the door, but her faithful heart belonged with Patrick. She couldn’t abandon him.

As the struggle ensued, the man fired a third bullet into the glass door.

“Andi, get the hell out!” Patrick yelled.

Andrea’s confusion paralyzed her. Knowing he was in grave danger made it impossible to leave.

Although Patrick proved to be a formidable opponent, the psychopath overpowered him and maintained possession of the weapon. He pushed Patrick to the ground and pointed the pistol at the back of his head.

“Pat!”

“Run away, Andi!”

“Please don’t hurt him, I’m begging you. We’ve got lots of money and jewelry. We’ll give you whatever the hell you want, I swear.”

Hearing Andrea beseech him was music to the intruder’s ears, a doleful symphony that reaffirmed his power and fed his ego. While pressing the gun against Patrick’s head, he looked Andrea directly in the eye and whispered, “But this is all I want.”

“No!”

Without giving it a second thought, he cocked the gun and pulled the trigger. The impact of the blow felt as if he’d released the bullet from his own body. It was intoxicating, beyond thrilling. The reeling pleasure was better than he’d expected. He loved it so much that he wanted to do it again—so he did.

“Pat!” Her shrill scream echoed across the walls of the foyer.
 

Andrea was in such a state of shock she couldn’t process the senselessness. Patrick, the ideal man, the guy she’d pined for and went through hell for, was dead. She was hysterical.

The murderer glanced at Andrea with a contemptuous look on his face, laughing as he stood to his feet.

Andrea’s lips quivered and tears streamed down her cheeks. She couldn’t think, let alone speak. All she could do was shake her head while her emotions were a tumultuous cluster. Between fear and scorn, she was confused. Instinctually, she needed to run. However, Andrea wanted to take her claws and scratch the life out of the man.
 

Before he had time to harm her, Andrea stretched out her fingers, placed her trembling hand on the heavy music box, and chucked it at the intruder’s face.

The blunt force was so strong it knocked the killer backwards. That blow, along with the loss of blood he’d taken from being sliced behind the ear, left him disoriented.             

Andrea tore a swatch of fabric from the bottom of her silk nightgown and tied it like a tourniquet around the bullet hole that had grazed her left arm. She applied pressure while stumbling upright. It took all of her strength to reach the front door and stammer into the torrential storm.

The heavy rain reduced almost all visibility. Andrea covered her mouth to keep from crying and drawing attention. Then she pulled her soaking-wet hair out of her face, frantically looking around for a hiding place.

Lightning flashed across the furious sky and illuminated the ground below as she ran for her life. Although it was hard to see much of anything, she made her way to a small patch of forest at the front of her property.

Andrea leaned against an oak tree and frantically wiped off her bare feet. They were in excruciating pain, bleeding from where she’d walked across the broken glass.