She is a stunningly beautiful, well-shaped, redhead. Sharyn Brunnell was envied for her beauty. Her beauty brought out the ugly head of jealousy and dislike from those girls who were much less well-endowed by those physical gifts. That jealousy increased as the school year progressed due to her academic acumen and basketball skills.
She sat on her morning bus, which was on its way to her newly built, four-year-old high school. The name was Main-Enwell High School because two towns, each without a high school, Main and Enwell, combined financial resources to build their high school instead of having to transport their ready-for-high-school students to one of two other local high schools. This high school was known to the locals by two letters, M-E.
Though a senior, Sharyn had few friends. She was shunned by most girls and considered unapproachable by the boys. The girls were jealous of her comely looks and the boys, naturally, were lustfully horny and often stared at her full beasts.
The bus turned off Market Road, pulling into the front of the high school. The bus students exited while Sharyn sat peacefully contemplating what her day would be like. The usual bullshit from her classmates, she concluded. She focused on one of the eye-catching red brick walls which were made even brighter by the newness of them. Her vision refocused and she knew that she was right in speculating about today’s bullshit. The group of idiotic boys were waiting for her.
When Sharyn exited the bus, she thanked Mrs. Hally, the driver, for getting everyone to school safely. “My pleasure, darlin’,” Mrs. Hally responded while noticing the continued sadness in Sharyn’s eyes and voice. Sharyn stepped onto the sidewalk. “No wonder she’s sad,” Mrs. Hally thought, as she also noticed the group of boys leering at Sharyn. “Immature and horny. Such a deadly combination,” Mrs. Hally whispered to herself as she watched the boys.
“Hey, Sharyn,” Lee Turnbull shouted with a wave of his hand and sarcasm pinching his face. “So, when are we going on a date? Have you seen my car? Plenty of room in the backseat.” Childish giggles sprayed from the mouths of his friends.
“Do your childish friends ever get tired of being your bitches? Look at them. Pathetic sights following you around like slaves and thinking that it’s a good thing and having no ideas what it truly looks like, sad children following their infantile daddy.”
“You don’t have to be so bitchous… ah, I mean vicious. Besides, the guys and I like to share. You know, like if I have a delicious candy bar, I share it with my friends.” Big smiles erupted on the boys’ faces.
“You are all genuinely disgusting. There isn’t an ounce of shame in all of you combined. If any of you have girlfriends, they should be pitied, unless they are your girlfriends because they are just like you.”
As Lee approached Sharyn, Mrs. Hally exited her bus shouting, “Lee, trouble doesn’t just follow you, it has a home inside of you. You are new to the school. Why come off as such a jerk? You don’t hear what some of the other students are saying about you? They say you look old enough to have flunked a few grades and how stupid you must be, and you just keep proving them right. Now, go to your homerooms.”
Although his face flushed, Lee said, “Ahh, Mrs. Hally, I was just trying to have some fun. Just jokin’ you know. No harm in that. I’m just tryin’ to be friends and thaw the ice inside her.”
“You constantly crave attention. Insecurity, perhaps? You’ll be getting more attention than you want if I fill out a report about your verbal sexual abuse. Rumor is, that you have already been in some trouble and had to change schools. Kids have seen you meeting with the principal and your parole officer. You only get a certain amount of warning for that kind of offense before you face your temporary suspension or even permanent expulsion from this school. Is that why you’re here? Kicked out of your old school?” Without waiting for Lee to respond, Mrs. Hally said, “Now get going.”
While Mrs. Hally had Lee preoccupied, Sharyn walked to the other entrance to the school. She saw that the principal, Mr. Miller, had been watching the confrontation with his facial expression one of deep disappointment. He tapped on the window to get her attention, then waved and mouthed the words, “Come here.” She walked to his office.
In Mr. Miller’s office, Sharyn was greeted with avuncular kindness plus sympathetic eyes and face and hand gestures. As they both were seated, Mr. Miller asked, “Would you like to officially report Lee’s abusive behavior? This would be his second official warning since transferring to our school. I spoke to him about his abusive behavior as required by the school rules. He said that he thought abusive behavior meant being ‘physically’ abusive and didn’t include verbal teasing. I told him that he should have known the rules since they were clearly stated in the new student’s information pamphlet. I straightened him out on the facts. You may not know this, and I shouldn’t be telling you, but he has a parole officer who sees him every Monday, usually after school when all the kids go home. He is watched and evaluated closely. It surprises me that he takes such chances with his freedom. If the parole officer ‘violates’ him, Lee will be sent to a juvenile institution. It looks to me that the parole officer is giving him a break, but Lee seems to want to hang himself. Now, if you file an official report, that will necessitate a parental meeting to try to correct his behavior. A third official report would involve expulsion from school and a police report, the result of which may be more serious action against him.”
“Yes. The whole school knows about the parole officer. Some got wind of it and passed it all around the school.” With misty eyes, hands in her lap and head bowed, Sharyn mumbled, “Mr. Miller, thank you for your advice. You’ve always been so kind to me, along with Mrs. Hally. I don’t know why boys think that I’m a snobbish bitch and dislike me. The popular girls ignore me unless they are with me on the basketball team. Even then some of them are jealous, hateful, and mean. Last year I was the top scorer on the team. I wasn’t trying to hog the ball, but when I had a clean shot, I took it. This year they mostly didn’t pass the ball to me. I’ve been replaced as captain by Molly Emerson, the coach’s daughter, and soon, I expect coach Emerson will have me warming the bench because I’m not able to score points. She often gives me disappointing looks, as if it’s my fault that I can’t contribute to the scoreboard. I don’t understand. I could score a lot more, but I know it’s a team sport, so I try to be fair. I’ve been nice to the boys and girls, but I’m shy and like to be alone with my thoughts, but I’m friendly when someone talks to me.” Lifting her head and emphasizing her words with hand gestures, she exclaimed, “I don’t want to officially report him, but I’m just so damn frustrated. Can you talk to him again? Also, the girls seem jealous of my appearance, as if I had anything to do with that, while the boys only want to know what. Of course, I want friends, but I can’t change my appearance, my shy behavior, or my skills, both on the court and in the classroom. Even demonstrating greater humility doesn’t work for me.” She bowed her head again and placed her hands in her lap.
“I’ll try to find out more about your situation, especially with Mrs. Emerson. You know, Mr. Emerson is our football coach. He’s stern, and won’t accept discipline problems. Maybe your Coach Emerson is like her husband. I’ll talk to her. If there is a hint of prejudice or malice, I will address that harshly. I’m here for you, anytime you want to vent your feelings or ask for advice. Your mom and dad are both friends. You know that. Sympathetically, Mr. Miller looked down at Sharyn. His hand landed gently on her shoulder, then he hugged her. “If there is anything I can do to correct your situation, please let me know. Oh, before I forget, is Lee in any other your classes?”
“Advanced placement classes? You‘ve got to be kidding. Thanks for the morning humor. I needed that laugh.”
They were both grinning when Sharyn started walking to the office door. As she was pulling the door open, Mr. Miller shouted, “I’ll call your homeroom teacher to let her know you are here and not absent from school. Since your first class of the day has already started, I’ll need to inform that teacher … but wait a minute. I can do that with a note. He wrote the note quickly and walked to the door with Sharyn. He handed the note to her and said, “Give this to your teacher. Who is that teacher?”
“It’s literature class with Mrs. Sullivan. We’re reading and analyzing William Golding’s The Lord of the Flies. It’s an interesting allegory about the world, how it works, and how nice people can change easily when there are no enforceable rules. Lee could have easily played the part of Jack. I wish there were more boys like Ralph.” Sharyn turned and left the room walking quickly to her literature classroom.
Mr. Miller had heard of that old book, but nothing about the title even slightly interested him. It sounded, to him, like a boys’ book. It was a boys-will-be-boy boring book, he supposed. There is bad in all of us, it is just not normally exposed with action, but it festers in the brain, like an evil spirit haunting a house. It didn’t matter, he thought, as he followed Sharyn, watching her walk down the empty but lengthy hallway. At the same time, Sharyn wondered who would throw food at her during lunchtime in the cafeteria. She reached Mrs. Sullivan’s room and entered.
At the next basketball game, things proceeded normally for Sharyn. She didn’t like to whine or complain, so she felt ashamed of herself. She passed the ball to her teammates so they could get a chance to score, and it all seemed to get back to normal except for the scoreboard. Coach Emerson remained quiet and moody. Her sudden dislike for her thawed as fast as it had frozen.
Lee was another matter altogether. He and his misfits were in the stands, regularly flipping the bird at her and booing when she shot the ball. One redeeming factor was that her parents and Mr. Miller were both there clapping and cheering for her.
Once when she dribbled down the court, she looked up and saw Mr. Miller smiling broadly at her. She wondered why a handsome man like that wasn’t married. The screams of teammates brought her back to reality.
The next Friday, at an away game that her parents could not attend, Sharyn was feeling much more relaxed. Lee Turnbull’s insults had quieted in her mind, especially when Molly Emerson approached her and said, “I wondered what was going through my mom’s mind. She was talking about benching you. I explained that the other girls had some jealous vendetta against you and were shutting you out. Mom said that she was sorry she hadn’t seen it sooner and corrected it. My mom and dad aren’t getting along very well. They’ve had loud arguments, so both of them have been distracted and distressed.”
During the game, Sharyn could see that the animosity toward her hadn’t thawed as much as she had hoped, though Molly tried to help. After the game, in the locker room, Sharyn found a note lying on top of her athletic bag. It said, “Some of your mean teammates are going to play a terrible prank on you after you get on the bus. Say nothing to anyone. Walk out and meet me in the east parking lot for a ride home. A friend.”
“WTF,” she thought as her eyes welled up with tears. She let her showered hair fall over the front of her head to hiding her profuse tears and red face. Suddenly all the bad feelings, the frustration, anxiety, and stress pounced on her like a rabid wolf. She couldn’t think clearly, so she dressed quickly, packed her bag, and left so quickly that it wasn’t noticed. She ran down the hallway toward the east exit and bulled her way through the door. She gasped, breathing deeply of the fresh, dry, cool air compared to the hot, stale, and misty air of the locker room. Once outside she looked around the parking lot but saw no one in any of the half-dozen cars in this out-of-the-way parking log. Suddenly she smelled the odor of something foul, but vaguely medicinal being placed over her face by someone who was behind her. Quickly her world turned black, and she fell. She was caught from behind by big arms and hands. She could feel pressure on her breasts. She felt as if she were being helplessly sucked into an astronomical black hole where the earthly laws of physics had no meaning as they did on Earth. She felt as if she were floating toward it.
As a black cloth bag was placed over her head, her hands and ankles were tied. She was lying on the back seat of a car, her sweaty face sticking to the vinyl seat. There was another length of rope that tied her hands to the frame of the back seat so that she could not sit up. The man smiled, cleared his throat, then excitedly said, “Ladies and gentlemen … let the games begin,” followed by a rowdy laugh and hands pounding on the steering wheel. Talking to himself, he mumbled, “Let’s see. It’s about a four or five-hour drive to the Adirondack Mountains, where my remote cabin is, near Racquette Lake. A stupid old man sold it to me for almost nothing. The moronic old man thought he was a hermit or a mountain man and talked nonsense. Shit! I only needed some repair work that anyone younger than that octogenarian could easily do. OK, think, I can’t go fast. Must be careful so I don’t get stopped for speeding. The gas tank is full, so I don’t have to stop for gas or snacks unless necessary. And if she wakes up, she gets another dose of my ‘sleeper-cloth.’ No problem there.” He smiled as he looked over his right shoulder to see the beauty that he had finally captured. No more is she a cockteaser, he thought.
Lying on the passenger seat, next to his backpack, was a clear, zip-lock, plastic bag, inside of which was the sleeper cloth that had been saturated with chloroform. It was late now, hardly any traffic on the roads with people home in their beds. The man giggled like an out-of-control child talking to his friends about sex. He took his right hand off the steering wheel, placed it onto his lap, and felt the rigid tumescence in his groin. He brushed it with his thumb and stared timing how long he could go before he ejaculated. He was very prideful of the fact that he could postpone his ejaculations for between five and ten minutes. Normally, though, with normal sex, he was a quick shooter. It was never his sex partner’s pleasure that he thought about.
He started humming to the beat of an unknown song, then thought, “So damn glad to have these bi-monthly weekend adventures,” but he was having difficulty waiting every two months. It had originated as a precaution, a way of thwarting police investigations. After two months it was considered a “cold case” and not an active investigation. But he was thinking of making these sensual, pleasure trips occur once a month. “You are rotten to the core, me boy,” he whispered, then laughed heartily before pumping one arm.
He arrived at his cabin early into the next morning, long before sun-up. He’d only had to stop twice to apply another dose of chloroform to Sharyn’s face. Now, before carrying her to the cabin, which was deep into the forest, he gave her another dose so she wouldn’t wake up as he was carrying her to the cabin. But then he stopped midway and thought, “It’s such a pleasant night, the black fly season is over, and it’s supposed to be a cool day today, so why not tie her to a tree instead of placing her in the stuffy cabin?”
Since he was already staggering when he reached a tree one hundred feet from the cabin, he purposely dropped Sharyn next to a tree. He rubbed the soreness of his arms and shoulder muscles, breathed deeply a few times, then tied Sharyn’s wrists behind the tree after he placed her in a sitting position on the ground.
“God damn! Let’s celebrate,” he shouted maniacally. He started a fire, then reached into his backpack grabbing a package of hot dogs and marshmallows. He placed two hot dogs on a stick, drove those sticks into the ground, and slanted them over the low fire. He grabbed another stick and skewered a few marshmallows on it. They cooked quickly, so he ate them with a smile, licked his fingers, and reloaded the stick after turning the hot dogs so they wouldn’t burn.
A couple of hours later Sharyn woke up to the light of a campfire, a speck of light in a vast and dark forest, a candle in a black void. She startled awake, eyes wide open, staring into the terrifying darkness that surrounded her. A sudden movement, a black shadow against the blackboard of night. She struggled at first but couldn’t feel her hands. More movement just out of sight of the firelight. A man size, she thought. Then, the question, “Who dislikes me enough to do this to me? Oh shit? Lee Turnbull. I should have filled out an official report. That bastard is going to hurt someone. He should be in jail.”
“Lee Turnbull. Is that you?” She shouted. “Are you stupid-crazy doing something like this. Kidnapping is a felony. That’s serious. Why do you keep making things so much worse for yourself? Now your parole officer will send you back to jail. I don’t understand you. Bad actions, bad words, bad associations. Isn’t it clear to you what you need to do to change, so you don’t go to jail? Damn you! Come out here and face me instead of acting cowardly.”
“Ok. I’m coming into the light.” Sharyn’s ears prickled at the sound of his voice. He walked out of the void and into the firelight, standing near the campfire that had burned low to red coals. He demonstrated his wicked smile, saying, “Hello Sharyn. I hope you aren’t too uncomfortable.” Another smile now, but friendly.
Sharyn’s body spasmed and jerked. “What the hell!” Sharyn howled. “Why would you do this, Mr. Miller? You’re a friend of my mom and dad. I don’t understand.” Her eyes looked as if they would pop out of her orbital sockets and tears flowed instantly, a constant rivulet of clear pearls rushing down her cheeks and onto the precipice of her chin, then falling to their self-destruction onto her blouse. She hung her head loosely as if all the energy had left her body. She was in shock, with her head bent and shaking back and forth as if denying reality. The mumbles and groans slipping from her lips were unintelligible.
When she was again coherent, Mr. Miller calmly said, “Sharyn, I have two lives and this life I’m in now is well-hidden. I had purposely applied to your school for the principal’s job after being the principal of two other schools for a brief time. Excellent referrals followed me, and I got the job here. The bonus was that I already knew your mom and dad from our college days. But I only knew you as a child, not as the young, voluptuous, and beautiful woman that you are now.
“On the one hand, I’m an excellent principal. I’m single, still fairly attractive, I regularly attend church every Sunday, and am community oriented. I don’t smoke or drink so, you see, people love me no matter where I work. That’s a great façade for this side of me Yes, this is the other me, the person you see now.” His loud, cackling laugh had a wicked edge to it. “You see, Sharyn, I like to hunt and fish, that’s the reason for the cabin, but my more interesting hobby is kidnapping women. Usually, those women are prostitutes. They simply are not missed, and when they are missed, the police investigations are only half-hearted at best. It was damn risky kidnapping you, but I couldn’t stop thinking of you. You’re intelligent, athletic, beautiful, and have the most sensuous body I’ve seen in years.”
As they stared at each other, the sun peeked out over the horizon. The sun’s rays flashed over Mr. Miller’s shoulder, then struck Sharyn’s eyes. She blinked, then saw the sunshine reflecting off metal objects lying on a blanket a few feet away from her. Her eyes bulged at seeing a hunting knife, a machete, a small ax, a wood saw, a hack saw, and a shovel. Her blood turned cold as she faced Mr. Miller and asked, “What are those for?” She pointed at them with her eyes and a nod of her head.
“Those tools make it easier for me to dispose of a body.” Slight smile. “I probably won’t need them since you are so small. I put them there for my entertainment. Your expressions are entertaining me. The shock, denial, terror, and soon the begging will occur. Right?”
“For God’s sake, why would you want to kill me? I’ve done nothing to you but be nice. You are more than the principal. You are a friend of the family. Now you’ll become a murderer. How can you live with that?”
“I’m a murderer already. Do you know the time-worn saying that you can’t unring a bell? Things have already been done. No going back for me. Now I just have bunches of fun with you, then I kill you, bury you, and leave no witness. I took a significant risk in abducting you. But you? I simply could not get you out of my mind. I saw you day after day. The demons in my haunted mind screamed at me, begged me, and gave me headaches so that I would act. My self-control finally fizzled out. You are irresistible, so beautiful, young, a virgin, I suppose, so innocent. You are a vision of near perfection. But we know that perfection does not exist. And it won’t exist in a few hours. You can’t belong to humanity. You are too good, too nice. Humans just aren’t like that, especially women. I have hated most women. You don’t need to hear why that is so.” Miller’s face showed hatred. His lips and teeth grimacing, eyes piercing, brow severely wrinkled, and hands made into fists.
“You’ve gotta realize that you need help. You need therapy. You can change with professional help and advanced self-control. You must know that.”
“No! Tried that. Doesn’t work. Had to kill a mental health professional in my college years. Got away with it. I am what I am. I do what I do. There’s no changing that, except for getting better at it. It has taken me years of moving and changing jobs. Can’t stay too long in one place too long, about two or three years. Staying increases the chances of getting caught exponentially for every year I stay in one place.”
“God almighty. You are disgusting; gross. You fool everybody. Killing must make you feel like God, but God’s not a murderer. You don’t have to do this.”
“You don’t think that God could be a crazed murderer? Read the Old Testament. People didn’t want that kind of maniacal, blood-thirsty God, and King James agreed, so he ordered the King James version of the bible to be written. Now God’s quite so maniacal, he’s just a hypocritical fool who gives you ‘free will’ and then punishes you if you use it in a way he doesn’t approve of. But, yes, I hold life and death in my mind and hands. It’s euphoric, God-like. If it makes you feel better, I decided not to rape you. Forgot my condoms, anyway. No internal sexual abuse, just topical. Your breasts appear amazing. I do need to fondle them as a form of masturbation. I’ll come behind you, sit down, expose your breasts, and have some excitement. It’ll make me hard. Then I’ll go around the tree, in front of you, so you can see me ejaculate.”
“God will punish you for your craven behaviors. And you know that the law will eventually catch you and punish you severely. The death sentence or life in prison.”
“Craven, huh? Such a smart girl. You don’t think I know that I will eventually get caught? Sure, I’ll be caught, be arrested, go to a trial, and get the death sentence. Then I’ll live for another decade or two before the state kills me. But before that, I still have a lot of fun ahead of me. Tons of fun, as the saying goes.” he said with a closed-lip smile that exposed his dimples. “This is what I do. It’s like a hobby that has grown into a second career. It’s become so much more fun than being a principal. Believe me, that’s a thankless and boring job. It’s a wonder that more principals don’t kill themselves just to have some excitement at the end of their lives. Well, shit! Why are you crying and trembling? I won’t let you suffer. Death will be quick. You’ll just pass into oblivion like you were before being born.”
“You are such a coward. Tie women up so they are helpless, then kill them without any form of resistance. You’re the kind of hunter who wants a deer close enough to stare at it while you pull the trigger. You are so pathetic. The sight of you makes me want to vomit.”
“OK, OK. Listen. This is what I’ll do for you. You are the exception to my standard procedure. In a couple of hours, after my titty-time, I’ll release you. You can run anywhere you want to go. I’ll give you a fifteen-minute head start, then I’ll hunt you. If you can get away, then you are free, and my second career is over. See those dirt mounds over there?” He pointed with an outstretched right arm. “If I catch you, we will walk back here, so I don’t have to carry you back. This place has gotten overgrown, so you’ll see no path to the cabin. Just pretend you are Lewis and Clark exploring an unknown land.
“OK, back to the dirt mounds. Graves, of course. And, as you can see clearly, there’s one already dug for you. Damn things aren’t easy to dig, you know. Fucking roots and rocks all over this area. Have to work up a sweat. Yep, graves for the unlucky ones.
“OK. Let me think and explain. Today it’s close to noon on a Saturday. It’ll be a day of exciting hunting for me, but a desperate run for you. You should do surprisingly well since you’re on the basketball team and in good condition. As I said, ‘When I capture you, we will return here. You know what’s next. But I’ll make it quick. Then tomorrow comes, Sunday, and after having a good sleep, some coffee and breakfast, I’ll lay you to rest and fill in the grave. Another mound of dirt for the weeds. Death’s gardener. I plant bodies, and I’m environmentally conscious, too, you know. You don’t know this, but I like candy, especially the Peter Paul ‘Mounds bars.’ Sorry, I gotta have a sense of humor or I get bored. It was the mention of the ‘mounds’ that made me think of candy.” For the first time, Miller looked confused. He blinked several times and shook his head as if trying to shake something off his face. Then suddenly he was alert. He thought, “That’s been happening too often. Must make an appointment.”
“You don’t need to do this. I won’t tell anyone. You can pack your things and drive away from your job. The vice principal will assume your job. That shouldn’t be a problem. And it would be easy for you to do, being the weekend. Just don’t show up for work.”
“Screw that. You’ll be forced to tell what happened to you and who kidnapped you. Witnesses are an automatic death sentence for people like me. Besides, I don’t want to leave. I hate packing and moving. Plus, I’ve got the teachers, staff, and Board of Education completely fooled. You, see? It’s only a minor risk for me to stay.
“Anyway, tomorrow I’ll return to my apartment, and Monday I’ll continue my principal’s job and offer my help to find you. Search parties and stuff. I’ll be as helpful as I can be. I’ll be sympathetic to your parents. Maybe console them, stuff like that. Oh, forgot to tell you. Did you know that your mom and I were engaged before your dad, my best friend, came into the picture and stole her away from me? Wow! That surprised you. You should see your face. But we all remained good friends. I had to put on a great act for that, too. I should be in movies, right?” Not waiting for a response, Miller continued, “Revenge has been a long time coming. Over the years, I’ve been riddled with the thought that you should be my daughter. Never got married. Hated your dad and mom after that, though I did great at covering my true feelings.”
Suddenly Miller’s temper exploded like a volcanic eruption. He screamed, bellowed, fisted the air, kicked the air, stomped the ground as if he wanted to outclass a mad grizzly bear. His face flushed; eyes bulged. He could not stand still, he almost hopped back and forth staring at the ground as if it were his enemy and venting years of pent-up anger and molten frustration. He raised his arm and pointed his handgun at Sharyn’s head. He lost emotional control and physical control, too. The handgun was shaking, and his finger was inside the trigger guard. He stared at Sharyn with a red-eyed growling sneer, his uncontrolled speech was incoherent. As he walked toward Sharyn, he cocked the hammer on his gun. His finger trembled on the trigger as he aimed at Sharyn. “Your fuckin’ pimp dad and whore mom deserve …”
At that point, Miller’s words and actions were interrupted. His body froze into place, ridged. He searched the woods but then focused on the dowel with feathers at the end of it. Holy shit! An arrow, he thought. But he kept staring at it. He could see it with only one eye because that arrow had penetrated his eye, fluid running down his cheek. The point of the arrow sliced through his brain easily and smashed into his rear cranium, the point breaking through the bone. Sharyn stared at him, terrified, in shock, and fainted.
Because she had fainted, she didn’t see the second arrow penetrate Miller’s upper left chest as he leaned against a tree, knees buckling. He fell on his back, his shirt full of blood from the heart shot that sprayed blood all over his shirt, some sizzling in the fire. It sizzled as more blood covered the ground. Sharyn’s body went limp, again, her hair dangling over her face like snakes dripping their blood.
When Sharyn woke, her hands and legs were untied. She was free. She stood, teetered, and got her balance as something fell off her lap. She looked around the forest, saw nothing, heard nothing, no movement except for the songbirds in trees and the light rustle of ground vegetation, indicating a rabbit, squirrel, or chipmunk. She spotted Miller’s body on his back. Two arrows in him. They looked like ‘homemade arrows” that someone had made. She stepped on a plastic bag. It crinkled and grabbed her attention. She picked it up. Inside was a compass and a note saying,
“WALK NORTHEAST 2 – 3 HOURS. FOLLOW MARKERS. FIND MILLER’S CAR. SPARE KEY IN KEY BOX UNDER LICENSE PLATE. FOLLOW DIRT ROAD TO HIGHWAY. DRIVE WEST ON ROUTE 112. WHEN HOME CALL POLICE.
EPILOGUE
A week later, Sharyn returned to school as a reluctant hero. Many girls flocked around her asking questions and treating her much more fairly. She tried to emphasize that she wasn’t a hero, rather she was helpless, terrified, and even fainted. Her teammates hugged her, sympathized with her, and protected her from any negative treatment from some boys’ sarcasm and mockery, and some girls’ also.
Molly Emerson became her best friend and the first person to inform her that Lee had been expelled from school for throwing a rock through Mrs. Sullivan’s classroom window, then shouting that he was the real lord of the flies as he pointed to and exposed the brass zipper on his pants.
Furthermore, Lee had broken his parole agreement by leaving town without informing and getting permission from his parole officer. He said he just needed to get out of town and go to that town’s library. In the quietness of the library, he’d think about his life. The librarian said she saw him in a secluded area, deep in thought until he asked her to call the Enwell police. The police found him and placed him in jail, pending a review of his case.
“And you know what else?” Molly whispered. “The rumor is that asshole Lee was twenty years old. How dumb can you get making a career out of high school, right?”
“I once thought of that myself. His shaved face still looked blue-black to me. The other boys have peach fuzz comparatively. Molly, I prefer not to talk about him. I have enough to deal with.”
“No problem. He’s such a waste of air and time, anyway. I’ll tell the other girls not to mention Lee.
“Molly, don’t you think the revelations about Mr. Miller are so much more important than an obvious, antisocial troublemaker? You never really know someone deep down to their core. Deception is so easy for some people.”
“Maybe, but Lee is much closer to our age than Mr. Miller. We don’t think about the principal much, but kids our age get our attention, even sadistic troublemakers. Besides, Mr. Miller is old. Shit! He must be in his forties. For an oldie, he’s a tiny bit handsome, but not much. Someone’s grandma might have an interest in him. Can you even imagine a teenage girl being interested in the guy? Yuck! That’s gross. The picture in my mind makes me want to vomit in my mouth and choke it back down, as punishment for that disgusting vision.”
“Well, anyway,” Sharyn added, “if you push all the other questions aside, why is it that hardly anyone is asking about or wondering about who the real hero is. That’s, of course, the person who killed Mr. Miller and saved my life. Who was that anonymous savior?”
“Well, it seems obvious that it was a bow hunter who did it. He or she saw what was happening, killed Miller, then didn’t want to get involved so he left the area once he knew you were safe.”
“Yeah. That does seem logical. I hadn’t thought about bow hunting season. Well, maybe. OK, sure. That could be it.”
Laughter bursts out between the two friends. Other friends heard the laughter circulated toward them and since they thought the conversation was about boys, they started talking about boys.
Three weeks later no one was talking about the incident. The school was back to normal, perhaps better than normal for Sharyn.
*
The largest area of police headquarters was located ten or twelve miles to the east of Enwell. That city, Bingston, also included the nearest Police Academy. One of last year’s graduates was a man young man named Arthur Hays who had graduated at the top of his class. He was called off his rookie assignment to in-a-car street duty by the Chief of Police, Tomey. Arriving quickly, wondering what he’d done wrong, sweat forming on his forehead, he was surprised to see his dad in the office as well. His dad had been a detective for many years. Art’s face was hot, his brow wet.
The Chief said, “Have a seat, Art. You’re not in trouble, so relax.” Art rubbed the sweat off his forehead as his dad smiled at him. “He’s smiling and I’m sweating. What’s so funny?” he was thinking but didn’t dare say anything.”
The Chief pointed to Art’s dad, “You tell him, Eric.”
Eric began, saying, “There is someone in the area who has aroused suspicion from other police forces around the state, but we have no proof. We need you to do some undercover work, especially since you are so young. Hardest of all, you’ll need to act entirely differently than your natural personality. You know, you have a reputation around here as the nicest guy in the squad. Mr. goody-two-shoes.” Eric laughed. Art frowned, then his face flushed.
“Undercover? Rookies don’t go undercover. I don’t have any experience.”
The Chief didn’t bother to remark on the Catch-22 about not having experience at doing something new.
Eric stated, “The person under suspicion is not a drug dealer but could be dangerous. It’s just that wherever he goes, people die, and those deaths are unsolved. Do you think you can do this kind of work? It’s a lot to ask a rookie, but it’s important. Also, you’ll be assigned an alias. Thoroughly memorize it. Think of some bad guy that you can pattern your behavior after.” Art paused in thought.
“What do you think, Officer Hays?” Chief Tomey said, his eyes and facial expressions letting Art know that he better not say no, or any future promotions that come from this will be rejected by him. Eric stared at his son, also, hoping that Art’s pause didn’t end with a negative response.
Art’s voice got caught in his throat. He cleared it, looked at the Chief, and responded laconically with a simple, “Yes.”
“Good. OK, now, your dad has been working on this case, so he has all the relevant information. He will be your mentor on this case. Any questions, you go to him. And the Chief emphasized that the conversation we just had should remain between the three of us. Don’t disappoint us by being the source of leaked information.”
“That won’t happen, sir. I can be trusted. Just ask my dad.”
“Already did that, Art. You and your dad will have the files. Work out a system to go by. Rely on your dad and his vast experience in matters like this. You may not know, but your dad used to work undercover a couple of decades ago. You’ll start Monday.”
Art looked at his dad. “Really?” he asked.
“Yep. But I don’t take my work home. Never told your mom. Neither will you. Is that understood?” he responded with probing eyes, a stern voice, and a serious facial expression.
“Understood, sir, but what about Saturday?”
“Don’t worry, son. We’ll take a break, and the whole family will come to see you defend last year’s archery championship.”
Comments