Unhinged (33 page)

W
ith his seat belt fastened and radio playing softly, Spider drove to his destination obeying all traffic laws. He couldn't risk being stopped and maybe have his trunk opened. His Chicago Cubs hat provided a subpar disguise, but it was all he had. If he spotted a squad car, he'd pretend to drink casually from a can of Coke.

He pictured himself inside Jennifer, filling her up like Decland. He also pictured himself inside Decland, but his father striking him in the face suddenly replaced that image.

“Stop it. Stop it. Stop it,” he yelled. And just like that, he wasn't happy anymore. His thoughts turned to his sadomasochistic sexual fantasies and murders.

After he dropped Jennifer off, he needed to locate his prey quickly. There was a distinct possibility that Decland wasn't going to show for the final round. Spider would be upset if his plan of having Decland and Jennifer at the same time didn't come to fruition. But this was the real world, and he had to alter plans to fit opportunity.

He dreaded using his last resort method of victim procurement, but then again, he assumed it would be inevitable. Spider parked as close as he could to his destination, got out, and popped the trunk, exposing Jennifer, who lay curled in a ball on top of jumper cables. He took off her gag and placed a pair of sunglasses over her blindfold, then hid his face as he waited for a couple of cars to pass before pulling her out of the trunk.

“Don't scream, or I'll kill you,” he said mildly.

“Where are we?”

“Never mind that. You're going to hold on to my arm like you're a blind woman. We're in the Ninth Ward where there isn't a soul around, and I'll kill you if you try to run.”

Spider held her up by the arm as she stumbled.

“You killed my sister.”

“She loved Decland.”

“She had a crush. I love Decland.”

“I know.”

“Why are you doing this?” Jennifer asked.

“You wouldn't understand.”

“Please tell me. I want to understand.”

“If you keep pestering me, you're really going to make me mad. Your biggest mistake was hooking up with Decland Dupree. Now you have to suffer the consequences.”

“What did Decland do?”

Spider didn't respond. If he started talking, he wouldn't be able to turn it off. He had never spoken to anybody about his obsession or his past. He had kept his secrets locked away in a now overcrowded room. If he opened the door, he felt his head would explode. “Just shut up.”

He hated that the flooring felt unstable beneath their feet. It creaked as if it would give at any moment. Soon they stopped so Spider could open a squeaky door. They had arrived, and now Spider wasn't too concerned with making loud noises. They entered, and he pushed her to the floor and tied her hands to her feet, forcing her into a fetal position.

“You have to tell me what Decland did to you that was so horrible,” Jennifer pleaded.

“It's not what he did to me. It's what he does to me. Please don't talk anymore.”

“Wait. I'm not even with him anymore. We broke up. I caught him cheating on me.”

He paused, a roll of duct tape in hand. “I don't believe you. You're trying to talk your way out of this.”

“I'll give you her name.” Mere seconds before Spider could seal her lips with the tape, Jennifer blurted, “Sarah Simpson.”

Shocked, Spider dropped the tape and shot to his feet. “How do you know her?”

“I caught him at her house. He slept over there and admitted to having sex with her.”

“No, no, no. I dated her first. She was mine. He can't have her.” He paced back and forth in a straight line. Getting a grasp on this new information was beyond difficult. “He's trying to get back at me. He knows what I'm doing, and he's paying me back.”

“Talk to me, Gene. We can work through this.”

“Tonight is going to go according to plan. Decland's going to see how much I truly love him. He's going to realize the mistakes he's made and what he's lost out on.” He bent down to tape Jennifer's mouth. “Don't worry. If you believe in God, you'll see Decland again in the afterlife.”

“You really love him, don't you?” she asked, and then the duct tape was slapped over her mouth.

Spider didn't answer. He shed tears for several minutes as he clutched the small statue of Jesus he carried in his pocket. He prayed silently, then returned his focus to the task at hand.

T
he lights above me had gone out, and hours passed at a snail's pace. I felt as if I had been locked up in a time capsule to be opened after a hundred years. Jennifer had to be suffering hell at the moment if she wasn't already dead. Deep in my heart, I knew I was never going to see her alive again. Spider had won, unless killing my current girlfriend wasn't his plan. I held out a pebble of hope that whatever he wanted to do with Jennifer, he needed me there, too.

I figured it was about midnight as I lay on my back on the cold table, looking up at the ceiling and seeing nothing in the darkness. I imagined a scenario of finding Jennifer's body too torn up and bloody to mourn in an open casket. Several tears had rolled down the sides of my face, making little drip noises on the metal surface.

I couldn't stop thinking about finding her lifeless body, defiled in unspeakable ways, and telling her parents I was also the cause of their second daughter's death.

To my surprise, the latch on the door clicked over, causing me to spin into a sitting position as I waited for someone to enter. Perhaps it was Dorrick, coming to take me out to the swamps and feed me to the gators.

“Detective Dupree?” a man whispered.

“Who's that?” I countered.

“It's Agent Zachary. Don't say anything.” He closed the door, and I could just make out his dark form against the wall. “There's only a skeleton crew in the building with an agent guarding at the end of the hall.”

“What's happening on the outside? Did they find Jennifer?” I approached Zachary. The fresh smell of soap was all over him.

“No. I fear no one's looking. I know the truth now. I know why Lotz hasn't been caught.”

“How did you find out?”

“Agent Wayne made contact. I tried to locate him for more information, but no one knows his whereabouts. I could be killed for knowing and repeating this.”

“Does Dorrick know that you know?”

“I couldn't say just yet. It's possible Dorrick is dealing with Wayne as we speak. According to Wayne, he's a ruthless man. I think Dorrick will be after me soon, and that's why I'm here.”

I shivered, seeing myself in Wayne's place. Agent Zachary was scared; I could hear it in his voice. He was young enough that he could still question right and wrong and make decisions that would allow him to sleep at night. Although we were roughly the same age, I still viewed the agent as naïve.

“I'm letting you out, Detective. This is my last act as an FBI agent. After I sneak you out, I'm leaving the country. I have no more life here.”

“What about your family?”

“I have no family. That's why they told me I'd be a perfect agent. I hate to do it, but I have to get out while I can.”

“I'd leave the country myself if Jennifer was safe with me.” I inched my way to the door. “How are we going to do it?” I asked with a lump in my throat. Suddenly, I was a fugitive, running from the Feds. I could be shot trying to escape.

“I'm putting cuffs back on you and telling the night agents that you're being transferred to Washington immediately. It'll work—trust me. I have clearance in this case, so there shouldn't be a problem. After we're out, you're on your own in locating Lotz. All I can give you is your gun back.”

“Let's do it.” I walked down the hall in cuffs in front of him.

A
t 11:30 Spider left to go in search of a fresh victim. As he replayed his date with Sarah Simpson over and over in his mind, he got angry. Soon the reality of the near rape was altered in his mind to include a hard-on that Sarah would take in her mouth. He imagined ramming her doggie style, causing her to moan in ecstasy. Then he switched himself with Decland, who had made it happen for her. The fantasy took another turn, and he was fucking Decland in the same manner. His cock grew as he drove down the street. He placed his right hand on his crotch and felt the stiffness. He imagined a bald Decland saying they should always be together.

He drove about two miles into a neighborhood he had been in several times when he was younger. He hoped the shiny Sable he was driving didn't attract attention from the bad elements surrounding him. Usually when certain residents saw a nice car, they approached the vehicle to sell their drugs. However, tonight, no one was out. He needed to find a particular house, get in and get out, without anyone hassling him.

The decaying two-story house was still there, just as he remembered it. It was one of the worst streets in New Orleans that even the cops avoided at night. He stopped behind a pickup on blocks and shut off his engine. He held his gun in one hand and a little flashlight from Jennifer's glove compartment in the other. He felt more at ease. It was dark, most of the streetlights were busted, and none of the houses had porch lights.

Spider briskly walked to the front door, entering the abandoned house with his gun drawn. He shined the flashlight around, spotting three junkies, two young black men and one old, skinny white woman. He stepped over one of the bodies to enter the kitchen, but it was empty. The whole place smelled like urine, feces, and body odor. He pulled his shirt up over his nose and went upstairs where the action, if any, would take place.

The first bedroom he entered had movement in it. He flashed his light on a crack whore blowing some guy. They didn't seem to notice anyone had entered the room. He left and checked the next bedroom. Two men, one black, one white, were lying on a stained mattress, passed out with a crack pipe next to them. The white man on the left looked to be around his own age, dirty and rough around the edges but not unattractive. He would have to do.

Spider bent down beside him and shook him hard. “Wake up, man.” He flashed the light on his face.

The man moaned, absently pushing Spider away.

“Dude, wake up.”

“This is my spot, man. Go somewhere else.”

“I got rock. Lots of rock. I'll let you earn some.”

The young man opened his eyes. He pushed up on one elbow and rubbed his still fresh face with his other hand. His chest was muscular. Spider could tell he hadn't been a junkie for long.

“You got rock?” He was finally coherent.

“What's your name?”

“They call me White Bread around here, ‘cause I'm about the only white boy that comes here anymore.”

“What can you do for me?” Spider asked, keeping a fixed gaze on his prey.

“I can do whatever you want. Lean back. Let me show you.” The man sat up, combing his hair with his fingers.

“No. Not here. Let's go to my place. It's not far. If you're good, it could be a steady thing.”

“All right. You lead the way. That bastard next to me smoked my last rock. I was close to smoking paint chips.”

“Don't sound so desperate. C'mon, let's go.” Spider walked out the door.

The man clumsily rose and staggered after him.