by BJ Bourg
"Jack, do you love me?" Even in the dark I could see that Susan Dixon's brown eyes were wide. They explored my tanned face…interrogated my every expression.
I looked down at the manicured park grass that separated our naked bodies. "You know I do."
"You say you do," Susan's eyes narrowed, "but how do you know for sure?"
"I just do." This line of questioning made me uneasy. I wasn't a Hallmark type of guy.
"Would you die for me?"
"Yes, absolutely."
Susan smiled, but then her brows puckered and her bottom lip protruded into a pout. "You're a cop. You'd die for a perfect stranger."
"I guess so."
"So what sets me apart from everyone else? What makes me special to you?"
"You just are." I sat up and pulled my boxers on. I had a poster on my wall at the Cut Off Police Department that read,
Admit nothing…deny everything…make counter accusations. It was time to counter. "What about you? How do you know you love me?"
Susan rolled to her back and stared up at the stars.
Before I could stop myself, I scoffed and said, "It ain't so easy, is it?"
Susan turned to look at me. Her eyes glistened in the moonlight. In a soft voice she said, "I know I love you because it hurts." With a brush of her hand, she tossed her long, black hair over her left shoulder and exposed her firm, snowy breasts. They glowed against the backdrop of night. She placed her hand over her heart. "Right here. I feel it every time I leave you…every time I say good-bye…every time I look at my dad and know that he would never approve of you. That's how I know I love you…because it hurts."
I wanted to stab myself right in the face. "Baby, I…I'm sorry. Look--"
Susan reached out and pressed her index finger against my lips. "It's okay."
"No, it's not. Look, you're right. I'd die for a perfect stranger. That's nothing special. But there's one thing I'd do for you that I wouldn't do for anyone else."
Susan sat up. "What?"
"I'd commit murder for you."
She gasped. "Are you kidding?"
"Nope. I'd straight up, fucking kill someone for you."
Susan bolted up. She reached for her sweater, pulled it on, and jumped to her feet.
"Wait," I said, "where're you going?"
"We shouldn't be having this conversation." Susan snatched up her jeans and dashed toward the tree line where our cars were parked.
I scrambled around on the ground. My police uniform, gun belt, and keys were scattered everywhere. When I'd ripped them off an hour earlier, I hadn't thought about beating a hasty retreat. My shift had ended at midnight and we had planned to be at the park until daybreak.
Everything in hand, I jogged down the path and screamed after Susan to wait. Before I reached the parking lot, her car hummed to life. My legs burned as I pushed them harder. It was no use. I was just in time to see her black onyx, 2005 Lexus RX speed off. I skidded to a stop by my patrol cruiser. One hand fumbled with my keys while the other felt for the keyhole in the door. My gun belt fell to the ground. "Fuck!" I bent to pick it up. When I straightened, headlights suddenly splashed over me. I froze in place.
The car stopped several feet from me. A door slammed. Susan appeared out of the light. She dove into me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. "I'm so sorry!"
"Why'd you run off?"
"It's…I…I think of murder, too." Susan's breath was warm against my neck.
"What do you mean?"
Susan stepped back and hung her head. "You know I can never be with you, that my dad wouldn't approve. That's killing me inside."
"Your dad's never met me. How can you be sure he won't like me?"
"I just know."
"You're twenty-three. To hell with what he says. Move out. You can come live with me. If he gives--"
"It's not that simple."
"Sure it is. I'll support you."
"Can you afford the note on my car? Credit card bills? College tuition?"
I pursed my lips. "No."
"I have three years of college left. When I graduate, I'll get a good job. It'll only take a few years to pay my dad back. After that, I'll move out and we can be together."
"And until then?"
Susan's eyes filled with tears. "Maybe it's best if we don't see each other."
I pulled away from her. My chest ached. Sweat broke out on my forehead. I began to understand what she meant by love hurting. I turned and kicked the fender on my cruiser. "Fuck! There has to be another way."
"I'm afraid not."
I leaned against my cruiser, my back to Susan. A tear managed to squeeze past my pride. It leaked down my face. "What if I talked with your dad?"
"No! He would kill me if he knew I had a boyfriend."
I turned slowly. "I thought you said he wouldn't like me because I was a cop."
"Yeah."
"Then why would he kill you just for having a boyfriend?"
Susan sighed. "It's complicated."
"Try me."
"I can't. He would really kill me. And there's nothing anyone could do. He's too powerful."
"Bullshit! He owns his own business. So what? That doesn't make him above the law."
"It's a multibillion dollar business and, around here, it does."
I pressed my hands to my face. "Are you telling me we're through?"
"Yes. Unless…"
"What?"
"I sat up many nights and dreamed about poisoning him."
"You mean, murder?"
Susan nodded.
"But, he's your dad!"
"No, he's not!" Susan lashed out. "He's a fucking animal!" Her eyes were wild. Tears rained down her face. She collapsed to the ground and rolled into a ball.
I dropped beside her. "Baby, what's wrong?"
She turned to face me and clutched at my neck. "He rapes me!"
My heart stopped in mid-beat. The blood in my veins turned to ice. "Say that again."
Susan palmed a stream of tears from her cheek. "He's been raping me since I was fourteen…since mom died."
"Why haven't you told anyone?"
"He'd kill me." Susan trembled like a fragile newborn. "Besides, no one would believe me."
"Sure they--"
"No! He made sure of that. When I was fifteen he had me committed." She pushed to a seated position. "Now I have a history of mental illness. No jury in the world would convict him of my testimony."
"There has to be something we can do."
"I have only two choices…put up with it, or poison him."
"You can't poison him. They'd know you did it. You'd go to jail for sure and then I'd really never get to see you again."
"He's got hundreds of enemies. It could be any--"
"How many of his enemies cook for him?"
Susan sighed. "You're right. I guess I just have to put up with it."
The muscles in my jaw burned and the acid of hatred ate a hole in my heart. I stared down at the only girl I'd ever loved. I imaged her father forcing her into his bed…ripping the innocence from her body. I stood calmly to my feet and helped her up. The sun was rising. I could see her features more clearly. It was only then that I recognized the hurt etched so deep in her eyes. How could I have been so blind? No matter. "One day soon," I said in a voice that scared even me, "you'll wake up from your nightmare…and your demon will be in hell."
* * * * *
Two weeks later, Susan met me back at the park. After a warm embrace and a long kiss, we sat on a bench. She handed me a sheet of paper. "Here's the layout of the house. I'm no draftsman, but it's close."
I looked it over. "Good enough. What about the alarm?"
She smiled. "The arrogant prick never arms it. He thinks no one would dare mess with the great Bernard Dixon."
"You brought one of his golf clubs?"
Susan nodded.
"Good. Where will he be?"
"On the sofa, passed out."
"You sure he's playing poker tonight?"
"He plays every Thursday."
I studied the drawing. "What time does he get home?"
"Right before midnight, sometimes earlier."
"He'll be drunk?"
"That's for sure. Once he passes out, he could sleep through a hurricane."
"Okay." I tucked the drawing in my shirt pocket. "Did you make the report?"
"Yeah. I spoke with a detective named Leslie Bennett--"
"Shit!"
"What?"
"Did she seem suspicious?"
"I don't think so. Why?"
"She and her partner are only the best detectives we've got. What did you tell her?"
"I told her I had problems with a stalker back at college and I thought he got hold of my address."
"Anything else?"
"Yeah, I told her I saw a strange man in the driveway two nights ago and I thought it might be him."
"You give a description?"
"I described some guy I'd seen at the store earlier."
"What'd she say?"
"She wrote it down and said she'd have the uniformed cops do extra patrol."
I nodded. I was on shift that night and Susan's house was in my grid. "Okay. You're sleeping in New Orleans tonight, right?"
"Yep. The condo's already rented. I'll have twelve bridesmaids as witnesses…and two Chip and Dale strippers."
I squinted. "I don't know if I like that."
Susan rubbed my chest. "You know you have nothing to worry about. Besides, they're for Becky. It's her last night of freedom."
Susan and I stood. I squeezed her tight. "Next time I see you, you'll be a free woman."
She looked up into my eyes. "You know I didn't believe you."
I cocked my head sideways. "About what?"
"When you said you loved me enough to commit murder."
"I absolutely would, but," I shook my head, "this'll be a justifiable homicide."
* * * * *
I glanced at the dash clock. 1 AM. It was time. I snatched up my police radio. "136, Headquarters."
The radio scratched and then the dispatcher's familiar voice called out. "Go ahead, 136."
"10-47, 10-42," I said, to make her think I'd be eating supper at home.
"10-4, 136."
I slipped out of my patrol cruiser and lowered the volume on my police radio. I'd bought myself one hour. I donned a set of crime scene coveralls, cap, gloves, and booties. I snatched the golf club from under the seat and took a deep breath. It was go time.
I approached Bernard Dixon's house at a crouching run. I stopped once to look back at my cruiser. It was concealed in a cow pasture adjacent to the businessman's expansive property. Well out of sight.
When I reached the back door to the elegant home, I paused. My heart raced in my chest. My hands trembled. I'd never killed a man. Sure, I'd considered the possibilities of killing, but those mental scenarios had always been in self-defense situations. This was different. This was cold-blooded murder.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to visualize the act. <<Come on, you can do it.>> As hard as I tried, I couldn't see myself murdering this man. I hung my head and turned to walk across the yard. As I walked, I wondered what I would tell Susan. How would I look her in the eye? How would she take the news?
I was nearly out the yard when the image of Bernard Dixon raping Susan suddenly flashed in my mind. I gritted my teeth until they hurt. After a long moment of reflection, I turned abruptly and walked to the rear entrance of the house. I shot a powerful sidekick to the center of the mahogany door. Wood splintered and it flung open. I entered the house at a brisk walk and made my way to where I'd memorized the living room to be. Before I reached it, I heard the television and knew that Susan's sketch was dead-on accurate.
The television glowed bright. It cast shadows across the living room and illuminated the sofa. I approached from the rear and raised the golf club high into the air. When I rounded the corner, I sucked in air.
He wasn't on the sofa!
"What the fuck are you doing in my house?"
I spun around. Bernard Dixon stood with a bottle of vodka in one hand and the remote in the other. I froze. This was the man who had ripped the innocence from my girlfriend's gut. There he stood…bigger than life.
"I asked you a fucking question! What the--"
I took a step forward and swung the golf club like a baseball bat. I scrunched the ball of my rear foot, putting all my weight into the swing. When the wood made contact with Bernard's head, I felt the solid thump all the way to the handle. Blood sprayed from his face. He collapsed like he'd been shot through the brain stem. The bottle of vodka shattered on the ceramic floor. I glanced around. All seemed secure. Taking a deep breath, I brought the club down on his head again…and again. The handle bent under the force of the blows. Bernard twitched briefly and then lay completely still. I dropped the club and squatted beside him. Averting my eyes, I felt his neck for a pulse. None. I quickly removed his wallet and jewelry and then rushed out of the house.
When the cool night air hit me, I dropped to the ground. I gagged, but clenched my jaws and swallowed. I couldn't allow myself to vomit at the crime scene. My throat burned. The sounds of the recent events whirred through my mind. I pulled myself to my feet and broke into a stumbling run.
I reached my cruiser and quickly disrobed. I stuffed the coveralls, gloves, booties, and cap into a plastic bag, along with Bernard's personal effects. I paused to lean against my cruiser. My breath came in gasps. My heart pounded in my chest. I took several deep, cleansing breaths. When my heart rate slowed a bit, I locked the bag in my trunk and drove off.
After burning the plastic bag and its contents in a remote wooded area, I rushed home and showered. As I dressed, I called the dispatcher and told her I was running a little late.
"I'll cover for you," she said in a playful voice, "if you bring me some fries from McDonalds."
"You got it."
* * * * *
It was two-thirty when I returned to duty. I delivered the fries to the dispatcher and then returned to my cruiser. I sat for twenty minutes and gripped the steering wheel. I knew what I had to do, but I didn't know if I could go through with it. My stomach was rotten…my voice shaky. I finally backed out of the parking lot and drove to Bernard Dixon's house.
I parked in front of the house. "136, Headquarters."
"Go ahead, 136."
"I'll be conducting a building check at the Dixon residence."
"10-4."
I stepped out of my cruiser. My knees shook. When I reached the back door, I took a deep breath and spoke into the radio. "Headquarters, I have an open door. Possible burglary. I'll be doing a sweep."
"10-4. Headquarters to all units, respond to…"
I made my way to the living room. Bernard Dixon lay on the floor in a pool of his own blood. I swallowed hard. He was definitely dead. I snatched up my radio. "Headquarters, subject down! I need a paramedic ASAP!"
The police radio became alive with traffic. I leaned and touched Bernard's neck to offer an explanation in the event my DNA was discovered around the body. I then walked through the house to simulate searching for a suspect. After several minutes, I radioed that the building was secure and the victim deceased.
After I posted crime scene tape around the house, I stood in the driveway and waited.
* * * * *
"What time did you discover the crime?"
I tried to appear casual as I answered Detective Leslie Bennett. "Had to be quarter to three. I logged out on the radio."
Leslie nodded. Her blue eyes sparkled against the flashing lights. "I take it you got my pass-on about extra patrol?"
"Yes, ma'am. I made passes about every hour or so."
"Logged it each time?"
I nodded.
"See anything suspicious?"
"Nothing. It was a quiet night." I stood uneasy as Leslie scribbled in her notebook. "Sucks, eh?"
"What's that?"
"To be killed in your own home with your own golf club."
Leslie shook her head. "Wasn't his club."
"Really?"
"No. All his are accounted for."
"Oh, I just figured, because it was left there and…uh…yeah, it ain't important."
Leslie stared out at the night. "This is a brazen son of a bitch."
"How so?"
"You stopped here every hour. He had to see your car. But still he goes for it-and makes it." Leslie rubbed her porcelain cheek. "Did you radio that you were at supper?"
"I always do." I studied Leslie's face. "What're you thinking?"
"Scanner." Leslie's cell phone bellowed the Law and Order theme song. She plucked it from her pocket and flipped it open. "Hey, Cade, what's up? Yeah, he's dead." Leslie turned away from me and began to walk off. "On the surface it looks like a robbery, but something's not right. We need to find his daughter. She filed a report earlier…"
Leslie's voice trailed off. She went back into the crimes scene and I returned to guard duty. I maintained the crime scene log until my replacement from Bravo Shift arrived at six. I handed him the log. "Detective Bennett and the Coroner are still in there. Everyone else left. The meat wagon should be here any minute."
He nodded and turned away. I slipped into my cruiser and drove home. I didn't remember the drive. I didn't remember undressing. I didn't remember falling asleep…
* * * * *
I bolted upright in bed. It took me a full second to get my bearings. I sank back to the bed and squeezed my eyes shut.
What the fuck have I done? My heart cut a back flip when my door rattled on the hinges.
"Deputy Jack Rayne," a muffled voice called from outside, "it's Detective Cade Phillips. Open the door."
My heart pounded in my chest. What the hell did he want? I pulled on a pair of jeans. It had to be that they needed my assistance. Maybe they wanted me to go over the radio logs with them, to explain things to them.
The door rattled again.
"I'm coming!" I padded to the door. My bladder nearly emptied when I saw the half-circle of cops outside my door.
Detective Phillips grabbed my wrist and snatched me off the top step. I lost my balance. When I tried to recover, he kicked my shins with his boot and dropped his forearm on the back of my elbow. I grimaced and fell to my knees. Detective Bennett grabbed my other arm. They handcuffed me and stood me up.
"What's going on?" I asked.
Leslie's sapphires sparkled. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say…"
My head spun. I felt dizzy.
When she finished reading my rights, Leslie stuffed me in the back of a marked cruiser. "Put him on ice 'til I get there," she told the driver.
I stared past the cage at the rearview mirror. Lieutenant Sidney Rose's square mug stared back. "What the fuck have you gone and done, kid?"
"Lou," that was short for Lieutenant, "what's going on?"
"Jack, don't play stupid. They got you dead to rights. Try to cut a deal, maybe trim a few years off your sentence."
"Sentence? Lou, I didn't do anything!"
"They got you on tape, kid."
"That's crazy!"
Sidney shook his head. "Seems the old man has his house wired with hidden cameras. Saw it myself. You all prettied up in that white coverall with the matching shower cap."
Warm urine spilled onto the front of my jeans and spread down my leg. My head plopped hard against the window. I stared blindly at the cars that whizzed by. I told myself that this was a nightmare. That I would wake up soon and it would be over. That I would laugh at this dream later.
Sidney pulled into the driveway at the Cut Off substation. He helped me out of the car. Clutching my arm, he led me up the stairs and into the lobby. I stared at the ground. I felt the penetrating stares of my peers. I wondered what they were--
"That's him! Oh, my God! That's him!"
I jerked up at the familiar voice. I scanned the room. There she was. A patrol cop steadied her. She pointed at me. Tears streamed down her face. "That's the man who's been stalking me!" Susan screamed. "You bastard! You killed my father! I hope you fucking die, you--"
* * * * *
I opened my eyes. My hands were cuffed to a post above my head. Sidney's ugly face popped into view. "Damn, kid, you
fainted like a bitch. Them boys are gonna love your ass in prison."
I pulled myself to a seated position. "What's going on, Lou? Is this a joke?"
Sidney shook his head. "The only one laughing is that girl."
"Susan?"
"Oh, you know her?"
"I'm dating her!"
Sidney threw his head back and laughed. "Tell that to the Judge!"
"It's true."
"Stalking ain't the same as dating, kid." Sidney shook his head. "Yeah, that girl's all tore up now, but those tears will dry up like the Mojave when she realizes she'll never have to work another day in her life. Yes, sir, you handed her a large fortune."
My mouth dropped open. My mind flashed back to everything Susan had told me. It all made perfect sense. I'd been played! Everything she'd told me was a lie. Everything, that is, except for one…
"Love hurts," I said out loud, and then spat on the floor. "But not nearly as much as betrayal!"
Copyright ©2005, BJ Bourg All Rights Reserved