Scott Wittenburg - The May Day Murders

Ann started sobbing hysterically. Jenkins walked over and gently placed his hand on her shoulder, causing her to flinch.

“Don’t cry, Ann. It’s only going to make things worse.”

He stroked her hair, still damp from the hot tub, and said,” I truly am sorry that it had to turn out this way, Ann. But I half suspected it would and as a result am going to have to resort to my backup plan. I should have known better than to think you were any different than the others anyway, and it only goes to show that I am not infallible. But all is not lost, by any means. I’ll be able to say goodbye to Stanley Jenkins for good after tonight. And believe me, that will be quite a weight off my shoulders.”

He stepped back and looked her over, then said, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill you, Ann. I’ll have a plane to catch in a few hours and I’ve already wasted enough time telling you my life story. But I felt you had a right to know what I’ve just told you, and besides that, I’ve not been particularly looking forward to putting an end to your existence. But life goes on, Ann. I have no choice in the matter. Unfortunately, I can’t let you live and still walk out of here a free man. I do hope you understand.”

His directness caught Ann off guard and sobered her thoughts. Suddenly, her will for survival superseded everything else.

She had to get away. At least stall him somehow for now. At least give him a goddamn fight!

“Please let me live, Stanley. I promise that…”

“The name is Jerry Rankin, Ann, remember? We’re through with Stanley now.”

“I beg you, Jerry,” Ann pleaded. “Please don’t kill me. I promise that I won’t tell a soul any of this. You can leave the country, or go wherever you’re going, and I’ll pretend that this never happened!”

He laughed heartily and Ann knew that she’d said the wrong thing. “It’s not going to work, Ann. You’re going to have to give me a better offer than that.”

Ann knew what he was implying. “I’ll do anything, Jerry! Please, just let me go-Amy needs me!”

He grinned, then replied, “You should have thought of that before, Ann. You had your chance but you blew it.”

He removed the bloodied towel and looked at it, tossed it to the floor and stared directly into Ann’ s eyes. “And look at what you did to me! Cut my fucking face with that wine glass! Yet here you are, standing there half naked and all blurry eyed, begging me to spare your fucking life. After you fucking cut me? Do you know how many goddamn stitches it’s going to take to fix my face? Christ, Ann-sorry to say it but you’re not in a very good negotiating position right now.”

Suddenly, Dr. Jeckyl turned into Mr. Hyde.

He grabbed her by the arm, flung her down on the floor and was on top of her in a flash. He started yanking down her swimsuit bottoms as Ann pummeled his chest with her fists, her legs thrashing wildly.

“No more time to negotiate, Ann. I’m going to fuck you, then I’m going to kill you.”

Ann fought back fiercely. She managed to rake her fingernails over the fresh wound on his face, causing him to let out a blood-curdling howl. He stopped dead for a second, stared at her with eyes that wanted to kill, and ripped off her bathing suit in one quick, effortless motion. Ann screamed in terror and struck him in the face again. He gaped at her maniacally, as though he couldn’t believe what had just happened, then brought back his hand to strike her They both heard the voices at the same time. They were coming from downstairs-muffled and unintelligible, but getting louder. A look of absolute horror came over Stanley’s face as he froze in his tracks and cocked his head, listening, covering Ann’s mouth in his hand. Ann could hear her heart beating wildly and watched as drops of blood ran down Stanley’s cheeks and plopped onto one of her breasts.

The loft floor vibrated from where the steel staircase was attached to it as someone climbed up and apparently stopped on the second floor.

Ann tried to scream but all that came out was a muffled whimper into Stanley Jenkin’s hand. His face was chalk white as he glanced first at the hatch, then over to the balcony door, apparently trying to decide what to do next. All of a sudden, the floor started vibrating again and they heard footsteps coming closer. Stanley flinched as his eyes darted all around the room. Total panic.

The footsteps ceased and they heard someone shove hard against the door. Stanley leered at Ann threateningly, tightening his grip over her mouth, daring her to utter a sound. Someone banged on the door a couple of times and tried to force it open.

There was a moment of silence, then the sound of more footsteps coming up the stairs.

“This is the sheriff’s department, Rankin. We know you’re in there-open this door immediately!” a muffled voice commanded.

Ann felt a huge wave of relief sweep over her. She tried to scream again but Stanley’s hand stifled her. He glared at her defiantly. Jenkins eyes darted over toward the balcony again and he made a gesture for Ann to stand up.

“We’re on to you, Stanley, so give yourself up,” another voice said. Ann immediately recognized that distinctive voice-it was Roger Hagstrom!

“We’ve got your entire house surrounded, so I suggest you open this door and let us do our job. We don’t want anyone to get hurt.” Roger said.

What little color Stanley’s face had drained away. He was kneeling now with one hand over Ann’s mouth and the other over his wound. His eyes frantically surveyed the room in a desperate effort to figure out his next move.

They both heard the sound of more footsteps scurrying up the staircase.

“Ann, are you in there?”

It was Sam!

On impulse, Ann grabbed Stanley’s wrist and wrenched his hand away from her mouth. “Sam!” she cried.

In a flash, Jenkins slapped her hard on the cheek and Ann slumped to the floor, reeling from the blow.

“Ann!” Sam shouted. “Are you alright?”

Jenkins suddenly snatched up a coil of picture hanging wire from the table and forced Ann up to a sitting position. He knelt behind her and wrapped a length of the wire around her neck.

“No!” she cried.

Ann felt the wire cut into her flesh and screamed hysterically.

“Your wife’s life is quite literally in my hands, Sam,” Jenkins shouted. “If you want her alive, then I suggest that you, your sidekick and the rest of this lynch mob back off now!”

There was an unintelligible mumbling of voices for a moment, then Ann heard Roger Hagstrom say, “Don’t harm her, Stanley. We’ll do whatever you say,”

Stanley chuckled nervously. “That’s very prudent of you, Roger. I’ll tell you my demands in a moment, but first I’ve got to know something. How in the fuck did you find me out? I purposely left a couple of little clues for you to ponder over but that was only to incriminate Stanley Jenkins, certainly not his alias.”

“The picture, Stanley,” Sam said. You took a Polaroid of my daughter and she sent it to me. Your prints were all over it.”

Stanley contemplated this for a moment, then said. “I’ll buy that Sam, but what prompted you to check out the prints in the first place?”

“You should have sprung for a new camera, Stanley. Your pinch rollers on that old relic are about shot. You might say that they left an incriminating trail.”

“ Fuck!” Jenkins gasped, realizing his folly. And with that, Stanley Jenkins snapped.

Ann felt the wire tighten around her neck and at the same time heard a rustling come from behind her. A shot rang out and Stanley immediately released his grip.

Ann spun around just as a young officer sprinted across the room from the balcony. He placed the barrel of his service revolver against Jenkin’s temple.