Dennis Larsen - With Cruel Intent

The operator, knowing that only one Sheriff’s Unit was available to respond, called upon the help of the Valdosta PD and emergency fire and ambulance crews to assist as well. Multiple squad cars and emergency vehicles from the county and city were soon rushing to aid the victim, her circumstances unknown.

At the same time the 911 operator was scrambling help to Katherine’s location, Blanche was standing in the shade of one of the larger trees populating the grounds of the old library, having an early morning banter with Mr. Marcus. Suddenly, they saw the first squad car speed through the intersection, lights and sirens blaring, sending pedestrians running for the safety of the sidewalks.

“Whoa, what’s that about?” Marcus hollered above the sounds of the sirens. Blanche shrugged her shoulders, thinking of the next barb she might send his way, when a second unit roared past the two, again with lights and sirens going.

“Quite a bit of excitement for little old Valdosta this morning, eh Marcus? You forget to turn off your stove after you brewed your coffee or something?” she jokingly put forth.

“Now that you mention it, the Mrs. said something about mowing the lawn this morning, hope she didn’t cut her foot off or anything. Don’t think the insurance will cover that,” he replied sarcastically.

A couple of miles away the students on the college campus were also alarmed at the number of sirens they were hearing.

“Must be quite the emergency, sounds like the entire force is on the move this morning,” Seymour said to the cute freshman, standing with him just outside the athletic department.

He’d just finished his morning workout and shower when he’d heard the commotion and hustled outside to see what was afoot.

She adoringly looked up at the older, more experienced college student, batted her eyes a few times and replied.“ Maybe there’s some crazy person on campus running around with a gun or something. Might be safer if we go to my dorm room and wait this little emergency out.”

The innuendo and offer were totally lost on Seymour who took a few steps closer in the direction of the noise and inferred, “No, don’t think this is a campus issue, sounds are moving away from downtown rather than coming toward us.”

The young lady, disappointment showing on her face, pulled her book and binder to her chest, rocked herself from the waist up and said in childish tone, “Won’t you at weast walk me to my next cwass, I’m a wittle sceawwed?”

Seymour turned to address the persistent young lady when the sound of another siren caught his ear, this one moving quickly in their direction. She advanced the couple of steps to join Seymour at his side, ran a hand between his side and arm and pulled his bicep to her breast and laid her head against his shoulder, appreciating the bulge that was there. More students filled the empty spaces around the two as the sounds approached. Questions filled the air in shouted tones to get above the sound of the multiple sirens.

The freshman, lost in the thrill of holding the older student so close, forgot about the possible threat at hand, and nuzzled her face against Seymour who seemed unaware of her affections. Within a moment or two an ambulance could be seen weaving its way between stalled traffic, working its way down the main boulevard, followed closely behind by a fire engine, lights reflecting off the buildings and sirens screaming. The group of students, including Seymour with the cute student latched on, surged to the street in an effort to get a better view and postulate what might be happening. To the relief of the young lady the emergency vehicles advanced beyond the college and raced toward their ultimate destination.

“Good crap, are they ever in a hurry. What could they be up to this early in the morning?” Seymour said, more to himself than to anyone in particular.

“Well, I surely don’t know, but I’d sure like to spend some more time with you this morning,” she said, pulling his arm close and rubbing it suggestively against her clad bosom. Once she’d gotten his attention and she could see that he was looking directly into her eyes, she continued, “If you know what I mean?” winking.

“Oh, yeah, I mean no, really I’d love to hang out with you for awhile this morning but I’ve got a project I’ve got to get together and need to hit the library before my noon class,” he tripped over his tongue but he was sure she’d gotten the message.

“You sure? I think I can make it worth your while,” she said; in her best Southern drawl in a final attempt to sway her crush.

“I really appreciate the offer; maybe another day.” Pulling him away from her grasp and waving as he jogged toward the library, Blanche foremost on his mind.

A light breeze swayed the limbs of the old oak tree just outside the second story window of Blanche’s room. Spanish moss hung in great sheets from the angled branches, some extending almost to the ground, casting spider web like shadows on the bedspread upon which Blanche lay. The fleeing sunlight, all but gone for the day, Blanche lay meditating, as she always did upon completing a novel, absorbing the full impact and importance of the words that had so touched her soul over these past two weeks. She loved a book that could pull her into the pages and make her a part, as had Mandingo.

The beating of her heart could be felt, her hand resting there, her eyes closed, lost in the story, mingling it with her own life and journey. She thought of her childhood, her strict upbringing from parents who obviously loved her and wanted only the best for her, and the many miles that now separated them. The feelings of joy and fulfillment, although not always present, had been more readily apparent since her move, however, she longed for someone to hold her hand, a strong hero who would sweep into her life and transport her to a place of love and ecstasy that she only could imagine.

With her eyes closed, in that state between sleep and cognition, she could almost see him. His broad shoulders, muscled arms testing the limits of the uniform he wore, sworn to protect God and country. A light smile parted her lips as the pleasant thought floated through her mind, causing a burning in her bosom, providing hope to a once hopeless passage. In the shadow cast rental room, her mind still fully engaged with the man of her dreams, she said a little prayer, not aloud but with the faith of a child she’d possessed years ago, “Father, if you are there and you do know who I am, would it be too much to ask for someone to come my way that would love me, take care of me and treat me like someone special.” As her thought passed from this dimension to the next, she saw him for only a split second. The man of her dreams, brown hair under his tilted cap, profile only, but a distinctive dimple in his left cheek.

“What could she possibly be doing, she’s been just laying there for more than a half hour,” he thought, posed on the balcony of a home less than a block away. He’d been lucky to find a place with no one home for the evening, which gave him the vantage point he needed to see directly into her room. “Tonight is for me,” he thought. “No agenda, no hazardous duty pay, just for me.” The viewfinder filled with the shadowed image of the woman on the bed. Click.

He was not quite sure what he’d expected from this ‘Peeping Tom’ routine. The pictures taken from the safety of the van continued to excite him and give him a sense of power, however, skulking in the dim fading light of day did not provide the same pleasure that confronting her face to face had. He again found her in the viewfinder and extended the telephoto lens, he could see her hand on her chest, “Perhaps she is thinking of me the way I have her since our encounter,” he thought.