Aric Davis - The Fort

“What do the drive-in employees say?”

“I talked to the crew from last night. Pretty much worst-case scenario there. Gus Lembowski was sick, and he had a couple deadbeats running the projector and the food. I’m sure they barely accomplished either one. By the time I got there, the marijuana smoke had cleared out and they were out picking up garbage from last night.”

“Details?”

“They saw a bunch of teens come in like they do every night that they work. I asked if a large group left early, they said that they did. I asked if they could identify any of the vehicles or people in them, they said they couldn’t, not even the make of one single car. I asked if there were any fights, or other disturbances that stuck out to them, they said no.” He rolled his eyes. “Godzilla would have to have shown up to watch a movie for those two to take notice of it.”

“So there’s no proof the kids were there or not, right?”

“None. Which means I have to follow the drive-in as a lead, even though my gut tells me it’s a load of crap.”

“What does your gut say?” Dr. Martinez asked. “To go sit at Riverside and wait for him to drop her off? Not to be a bother, but aside from there being a possible female victim, this doesn’t fit with our ideas about that guy, nor does it fit the MO of those crimes. You may just have to accept that you’re not going to get the whole story from the kids. Kids’ first response is to clam up when they’re lying, and they do the same thing when they’re nervous.”

Van Endel stood, walked to the coffee carafe on a table near the window, and poured himself a cup. He took it black, so the absence of cream wasn’t a problem. He nodded to the coffee, and she shook her head.

“They’re lying, not nervous,” said Van Endel, still standing. “I absolutely believe there were some beers and maybe even some grass tied in with what they were up to. That could even be the reason their story smells like rotten fish. God, if she really just did run off and I’m getting the runaround because a few suburban princes and princesses don’t want Mommy and Daddy to find out they kifed a few beers from somebody’s garage…” He shook his head. “No. You know, the hell with that. I wouldn’t even be upset. Just let the girl go home, and I’m good. They can have the secrets.”

“But what if they’re lying for another reason?”

“Well, that, Doc, is what I keep coming back to. Like you said, my gut says to go wait in the park with a bunch of unis and see what happens.” He sat again, heavily, then set the coffee on a coaster that she placed in front of him. “Here’s where I’m at. The kids are lying about something, I know it. What I don’t know is why they’re lying, or if it actually matters to the case or not. I also know that the guys who work at that fucking drive-in are idiots, and that they could have seen everything, and it wouldn’t matter. What’s your take?”

“I think your girl was taken by someone at the drive-in,” said Dr. Martinez. “The kids all insisted that’s where they were, from what you’ve told me, and until it’s proven otherwise, that’s what you need to work with, isn’t it? Seems you’d have to stick with the drive-in angle and hope for the best. Unfortunately, it’s about all you’ve got, isn’t it?”

“That’s about what I figured you’d say. Until someone comes forward, she walks home, or, God forbid, we find her somewhere, I’m up the river, sans paddle.” Van Endel finished the coffee and dropped the Styrofoam cup into the trash. “One more thing, Doc. I need help. Phil’s on leave…”

“Say no more,” said Martinez, smiling. “I’ll do my best to clear my schedule, and, God willing, we’ll find your girl.”

13

Hooper had Amy tied to a chair in the living room, the late-morning sun falling in bands across her through the drawn blinds. She was sitting still and shaking slightly, but was otherwise unable to move. In her mouth was a gag—rags and a belt, which had proven quite effective. She was bound to the chair with a mixture of nautical rope and ratcheting straps, the straps around her chest binding her tightly to the chair. Looking at her, he couldn’t help but smile. He had his colt, now he just needed to break her.

Hooper still smelled like smoke from the fire behind the back fence of the closed drive-in late the night before. It was in his clothes and in his hair, dirt still under his fingernails from digging. He needed a shower desperately, not to mention some sleep, but he was scared to let her out of his sight for even a moment, lest Amy try and leave again, like she’d done when he went to Southeast Asia. Having her here was as much a burden as it was a pleasure, but the risks of the situation needed to be respected. There has to be a better way to bind her up that won’t allow her to escape or hurt herself, but will also allow me to touch her.

The thought of fucking her was not a new one for Hooper. He had been with his sister several times before he left for the war, getting to her before she was spoiled goods, the leavings of another man. The same might not be true with this Amy, but he needed to find out for himself, so that he could pleasure them both. It was going to be wonderful. He just needed to be sure of how to keep her captive before he broke down to his baser desires and took her.

Finally deciding that she wasn’t going anywhere, Hooper began to strip off his clothing in front of her. Amy’s eyes were shut tightly, but he didn’t care. She was going to see him eventually one way or the other.

Hooper walked to the shower and turned the water on as hot as it would go. He stepped into the still-cold stream and felt his muscles twitch reflexively. There is such peace in the shower. In the shower Hooper could be himself. He wasn’t some broken-down Vietnam vet between jobs. Under the water, he felt impossibly alive and full of hope. The finally hot water gave him clarity as it all but scalded his skin, and he realized that what he needed most, more even than a better restraint system, was a plan.

When Hooper had taken women against their will before, it had been a temporary thing, short-term. He had initially been thinking of the same fate for Amy, but in a twist of whimsy, he’d decided to keep her for a while. That posed other risks. Carl, another vet and friend, had mentioned a week or so ago that he needed help working on his wife’s car, and Hooper had agreed to help. But how could he leave Amy alone in the house? There were a million things that could go wrong.

Hooper hadn’t been watching the news, but if the girl really had just been playing at prostitution, it was likely that people everywhere were looking for her. There was hardly any media coverage when the other bodies were found, but a regular girl was sure to garner much more public interest than a prostitute. Though he loathed doing so, Hooper was going to have to keep up with the news. With the other whores, there had been no connection to him, nothing left on the body for some supercop to link back to him. With Amy in the house, though, there was plenty of evidence that could be used to destroy his life, and Hooper was not going to let that happen.

So, to keep myself safe, I need for Amy to be safe. Safe would mean no possibility of escape, a perfect place and way for her to be kept and yet still be accessible to him. The basement seemed to make the most sense, but there were two windows down there, and if she escaped her restraints at night, she could possibly make her way out of the house until it was far too late for him to do something about it. If only he had planned, had considered even for a moment that he might someday want to keep one of them. It was no wonder that he hadn’t, though. They were so expendable, like the girl he’d killed the night before.