Twisted (44 page)

“Gonna fuck my Jeffy. Fuck my big, butch, top man. So hot, Jeff, you sharin’ your ass with me. So hot. Fuck!” He must have really liked the idea. I could feel his balls draw up and his dick tense. He was right on the verge.

“It is hot, buddy, you goin’ boldly where no man has gone before. Your Jeffy’s ass is yours to fuck, buddy. Somethin’ special, just for you. Then I’m gonna flip you over and fuck you.”

“Hell yeah, fuck each other, oh shit!” He lost it, spraying thick ropes of cum everywhere. He continued shuddering in my arms for a couple of minutes. We both fell back onto the bunk, relaxed and exhausted. I managed to pull the blankets over us and mutter, “Let’s get some sleep, buddy. We done used up this day,” before we fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

T
HE
sound of the cattle lowing in the pen woke me. The sun wasn’t yet up, but the eastern sky was several shades lighter. I stuck my head out of the door to the line camp, wondering how much clothing I’d have to put on to get to the outhouse. It was still raining steadily. I just pissed out the door of the cabin, figuring the rain would wash everything away. I heard Mike stirring in the bunk behind me, and then he got up. He came up behind me and put his arms around me, just as I finished buttoning up from taking care of business.

‘Mornin’, Jeff, you sleep well?”

“Like a rock, how about you?”

“Real good. I was just thinkin’, you know, dinner last night tasted real good.”

“I reckon it’s because we were hungry.”

“Ain’t that the truth. Remember the time we made macaroni and cheese from a box with canned tuna stirred in?” I had to laugh. We’d talked about how good “camping” food tastes and why didn’t we ever make it at home? One taste indoors was all it took to answer that question.

“I don’t think I’ll forget that for a while. How about we go out to dinner tonight? I wouldn’t mind hittin’ the saloon for a burger.”

“You read my mind, Jeffy. I was just thinkin’ how good a bacon cheeseburger would taste.”

“Well then, how ’bout we clean up here and get to cowboyin’?” We made short work of cleaning up and had some granola and dried fruit for breakfast. Coffee completed the meal.

Just as we headed out to saddle the horses, a weak sun broke through the clouds. It looked like we might have good weather today! We had the horses saddled and the cattle on the way in no time. We sang to the cattle most of the way down. It was crucial to keep the cows calm. If they stampeded, it could do some damage to them or the calves. Luckily, they seemed predisposed to being calm. The older cattle that’d been through this a few times had memories of oats and hay in the pens down at the ranch, so they kept moving, and the younger animals followed them. It was slow going, but at least we weren’t in danger of a stampede. It took a good part of the day to get the cattle down to the lower pasture and finish the areas we hadn’t hit day before yesterday. It was just starting to get dark as we saw the lights of the ranch below. We got the cattle down and in the pens, and Jason volunteered to take care of our horses and tack. We were both only too happy to say yes.

I
T
WAS
a couple of hours later, and we were headed into town. Mike and I had showered together and gotten dressed quick. The thought of One Eyed Jack’s bacon cheeseburgers, fries, and cold beers spurred us on. I ended up driving. We found a parking place a block or so from the saloon and headed in. First person I saw was Sandy, and she came running over.

“Jeff, Mike! You guys are okay!” She hugged us hard.

“Howdy there, darlin’. I gotta say this is a nice greetin’. Mike don’t even greet me like this when I been out all day.”

“Jeffy’s right, Sandy. I’m mighty happy to get included too.”

“You guys are silly. Did you talk to Dad?”

“Talk to your dad? Not for a while. Why?”

“Didn’t you check your message machine? Dad’s been tryin’ to get in touch with you.”

“Uh, no, we didn’t. We just got done roundin’ up the cows for calvin’ season and then showered and came right here.”

“Dad’s been tryin’ to reach you. He left you a couple of messages. José told him you were out herdin’, and he figured you’d be okay doin’ that. I’ll give him a call.” She dashed off. “What do you reckon that’s about, Jeffy?”

“Hell if I know. I hope it’s that they captured the West Coast Cutter, but for some reason I think I’m bein’ overly optimistic.”

We took a seat at one of the booths after hanging up our coats on the coat rack. I was pretty anxious to know what the sheriff wanted. His wanting to get in touch with me us so badly didn’t bode well. I had picked up on Sandy’s comment about us being safe off herding cattle. I wondered just what in the hell was going on. Just then Sandy rushed up with a pitcher of beer and a couple of mugs.

“I got the Sierra Nevada Pale Ale for you, that you guys like so much. Dad’s on his way over. Do you know what you want to eat?”

“Is everythin’ okay, Sandy?” I looked at her. She looked awful flustered.

“Of course, everyone at the ranch is fine. Mom’s fine, Dad’s fine, I’m fine.”

“Well, that’s fine and dandy then. I’ll have a bacon cheeseburger and fries.”

“Make that two. Order of onion rings too, Jeffy?”

“Sure.”

“I got it. Two bacon cheeseburgers with fries and a side order of onion rings.”

“Two orders of onion rings.”

“Right, Mike, two orders of onion rings.” She rushed away. Mike and I looked at each other. Before either one of us could say anything, Sheriff Johnston walked in the door and over to us.

“Jeff, Mike.” He shook hands with us both and slid into the booth next to Mike, facing me.

“Hi, sheriff. Sandy mentioned you were lookin’ for me and Mike?”

“Yes, I have been. You guys just got back from rounding up the cows?”

“Yes, sir. Sorry I didn’t check any phone messages. Only person we saw at the ranch was Jason. He didn’t say you were lookin’ for us.”

“Ah, hell.” The sheriff took off his cowboy hat and scratched his head before putting it back on. “He probably didn’t know. I spoke to José and then left a message on your machine.”

“What’s up, sir?” Mike looked at the sheriff with some concern.

“You two know a guy from Phoenix named Lonnie Hathaway?”

“Yes, sir. Lonnie’s one of my rodeo buddies. In fact, we saw him when we were in Phoenix, a week or so ago.”

“Jeff, Mike, I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but Lonnie’s dead.”

“Dead? What happened?” As I asked the question, I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I remembered the worry and fear in AJ’s voice when he’d called and told me he couldn’t find Lonnie.

“When did you see him last?”

“Sunday afternoon at the rodeo.”

“Mr. Hathaway had breakfast with a guy he’d met at the rodeo. AJ Schmidt. They separated. Apparently Mr. Schmidt was combining business with pleasure. He has a computer consulting job and had some clients in Phoenix. They were supposed to meet at Mr. Hathaway’s apartment, later that afternoon. Mr. Hathaway was a no-show. Mr. Schmidt tried to alert the Phoenix police, but they couldn’t take a report until twenty-four hours had passed. By that time, Mr. Schmidt was back at his home and assumed he’d been stood up. Well, Mr. Hathaway didn’t show up for work the next couple of days, and his boss got worried. He called the apartment manager, who went to check. He discovered Mr. Hathaway’s body.” Mike and I both stared at the sheriff wide-eyed.

Mike finally asked the question. “It wasn’t an accident, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t. It looks like the Cutter is now the Western Cutter rather than the West Coast Cutter.” I was speechless. Mike looked from me to the sheriff.

“AJ called us the other night. He told us he couldn’t get in touch with Lonnie.”

“Some of Mr. Hathaway’s neighbors saw Mr. Schmidt drop him off after their breakfast and then come back several times that evening. Finally he reckoned he was stood up and left for his home in Portland. The real sad thing is, apparently Mr. Hathaway survived the torture for a day or so.”

“What!”

“If Mr. Schmidt or Mr. Hathaway’s boss had asked the apartment manager to open the door, and if he had done it, there might have been a very slight chance of saving Mr. Hathaway. I’m not going to go into the details, but he was tortured pretty horrifically and left. It looks as if he survived for a while before passing away from the wounds and trauma. The air-conditioning was turned way down, too, so the coroner is having a bit of difficulty in determining a time of death.

“The reason that I wanted to talk to you boys isn’t to inform you about your friend’s death, it’s about this.” He put a photograph on the table. It was a wall, kind of a generic stucco-type indoor apartment or home wall. It was chilling though, in that there was a sentence written across it in a reddish, brownish-black liquid, which had flowed a bit after having been painted on the wall. I didn’t have to ask if it was blood. I already knew. The message said, “Connelly is a dead man.” Chills ran up and down my spine. The horror of it was almost too much to comprehend.

“One thing you boys should know. It seems that very often with serial killers, the thrill of killing and the ‘high’ period between kills grows shorter and shorter. It’s called escalating. It appears the Cutter is doing that now. After he left Mr. Hathaway, it appears he picked up a hustler on Thomas Road in Phoenix. He took the kid to a deserted school parking lot and gutted him right there. The next day, in LA, he tried to abduct a street kid in Hollywood. Luckily the kid’s friends saw what was happening and headed it off. He’d already chloroformed the poor guy. We did get a couple of more descriptions and some DNA evidence. One of the kids scratched him pretty badly, and there was material under the kid’s fingernails.”

“Did they get a license plate off of his vehicle?”

“They did, Jeff. It was stolen, though. It was found abandoned near MacArthur Park. Given the freeway system in southern California, he could be anywhere now.”

“So, despite everything, you really don’t have a hell of a lot more to go on than you did before?”

“Unfortunately that’s right, Jeff. We feel that he may be on his way up here. There was an incident in Cupertino in the Bay Area this morning. A college kid, Devon Price, was working in an all night minimart just off the freeway. From what we can tell, a van stopped right in front of the door. The van’s driver was wearing a cap pulled low, and he had the collar of his jacket turned up. In short, we couldn’t get a good look at him from the surveillance tape in the minimart. He did walk up to Mr. Price and point at something. When Mr. Price looked away, the suspect stuck a cloth in his face. He lost consciousness almost immediately and was dragged out to the van. He’s still missing.”

“So you think that this maniac is losin’ it and killin’ more and more and is headin’ up here, huntin’ for me?”

“Unfortunately, Jeff, we do.” He looked at me for a moment and then spoke again.

“Promise me one thing, that you won’t go looking for this maniac.”

“Why in the hell would I want to do that?”

“I know how sometimes you act before you think. In this case, I can really understand why you might be tempted to go after this guy.”

“Go after him how? If you people don’t have any idea of who he is, and only a vague supposition of what he looks like, what makes you think I might know any different?”

“Jeff, I don’t think anything of the sort. I’m just saying, please be careful. Make sure Mike is with you at all times. Hell, it might even be a good idea to have Smitty, José, Josh, and Jeanette around you too. I just want you to be on high alert.”

“I reckon that bein’ on high alert ain’t gonna be any problem.” Mike reached across the table and grasped my hand.

“I think we should move everyone from the bunkhouse into the house for the time bein’. With that many folks around, he’d better think twice about tryin’ to come in. And if we go grocery shoppin’ or somethin’, we can bring one or two other people along. Maybe we can have someone follow us when we’re comin’ into town, just in case he tries to run us off the road or somethin’, to get to you.”

“See there, Jeff, Mike has some great ideas. If you guys want, you’re even welcome to move in with Sally, me, and Sandy for a while, until this nutcase is behind bars.”

“I ain’t puttin’ you, Sandy, and Mrs. Johnston in danger.”

“I can understand that, Jeff, but it’s no danger at all, and it would be our pleasure to have you guys as company until this is resolved.”

“Sheriff, how about we go with Mike’s ideas. I’ll move the guys and Jeanette into the house. We can make sure anywhere we go there is someone with us or following us or both. I’ll also make sure to have the house alarm turned on when we’re all at home.”

“See, that makes quite a bit of good sense, there.”

“I don’t like the feelin’ that my friends are all babysittin’ me.”

“I understand, Jeff, and I wouldn’t like it any more if I were you. I’m sure Mike doesn’t like it either, but he understands the need to be extra careful, right Mike?”

“Yes sir, sheriff.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll go along with all that, but, sir, can you do me one favor?”

“What’s that, Jeff?” I turned and looked behind the sheriff at Sandy. She’d been standing with my and Mike’s burgers for a few minutes, looking white as a sheet and as if she was gonna start crying any minute.

“Could you let Sandy know I’m not dead, and I sure as hell ain’t gonna be, if I have anythin’ to say about it.” He turned and looked at her, and she rushed over and put the now cold burgers and fries in front of us. She burst into tears and ran off, leaving behind the food, for which I had no appetite whatsoever.

Chapter Twenty

I
WOKE
up suddenly. A series of bangs and thumps from the kitchen jolted me wide awake. I sat up, trying to get my bearings. It was light outside. The fitful sunlight of late winter came in tentatively through the skylight. It couldn’t be too much after dawn. Mike could sleep through a nuclear holocaust. He just murmured something that sounded like, “That’s it, Jeffy, keep it up,” and turned and settled back to sleep. I extracted myself from him, remembering that the hands were now taking turns sleeping in the house. I reckoned I had better get downstairs and see what was goin’ on, before the kitchen looked like a scene from motocross racing, after a major pileup. I debated pulling the covers off of Mike and pulling him outta bed but decided to let him sleep. I threw on some clothes and headed downstairs.