Chapter 12

The tape came to life in a familiar place. Peter remembered that that�s where he had stopped it last time. His breathing slowed, yet he was still frightened. He was very angry with himself as he pulled the cassette out of the tape recorder and put it away in a safe place.

That was the problem with getting old. You forgot things. It was an easy mistake but one that could have brought his plans undone. The tape existed today purely because the pleasure it brought outweighed the risk associated.

He thought of his wife. So clean and methodical. He was fortunate to have her, and more so, in that she seemed to mind her own business. She had been good throughout their the marriage, especially about Joanne. She had ignored, by and large, his little fetishes and extremes being comfortable to co-exist and not ask too many questions. He didn�t know how long this would last though, in recent times her bossiness had annoyed him.

The anxiety that this tape episode caused, actually increased his adrenaline, and gave him a natural high. The danger of being exposed drove him on, even more determinedly.

He�d read scores of books. His favorite topics included murder, rape, and spine tingling thrillers. For years he�d been content with just reading and fantasizing with himself as the villain. He especially liked to read of the fear and terror etched in victims faces when confronted with danger. He enjoyed the murder or rape described by the author more, if it had plenty of description. His fascination for terror grew like a drug addiction, ever wanting more, ever craving more. Time after time as he read through a book, he became more frustrated toward the end when it didn�t have enough of what he wanted.

A victim himself, of sexual abuse by his mother, he had turned the cards around these days. The hunted became the hunter. The sexually abused became the perpetrator of the very crime he fell victim to all those years ago.

His desire to read the ultimate thriller led him, in the end, to write one of his own. It had taken him years to research, painstakingly looking at the setting and studying human behavior patterns. Everything the killer did every place he went and how he got there, was believable. The killer was a chameleon, changing identity, always having a different disguise, and a different approach. Every victim was a symphony of pick up and disposal. Each were different, a new killing, a new instrument. But together each kill over time would build an orchestra of his handiwork. Soon enough the variety became the signature. They came from different social strata, lived in different places and all lived more then twenty kilometers from the killer. Forensically speaking, the killer was intelligent, and wouldn�t have himself limited to typical psychological profiles. Who�d guess a gut in his fifties? He loved the media. The media was actually his greatest tool for finding victims. There was always a sucker. Finding them wasn�t the hassle. In our society, anyone can be killed. The difficulty lay in killing without leaving evidence. Without witnesses, without suspicion of any kind, and approaching the victim naturally, so as not to cause alarm within them, and also so the abduction doesn�t cause a neighbor or friend see anything out of the ordinary.

In all his reading and casual discussion, one question kept appearing. Why do killers kill? Peter could only address this question by being honest with himself. His killer raped to see the fear in the victims eyes, the shrill horror in their scream. He killed for the rush, the sheer pleasure of destroying life. It was the ultimate experience in playing God. For God giveth and God taketh away.

As he wrote to appease his feelings, the opposite result transpired. The victims, in his books, became his own victims. Peter actually performed the sheer excitement of the chase and the killers� research. He placed the ad, met the woman, and took her to the place where he planned to kill her. He�d have the murder weapon in his gear, either in the car or in his overcoat. The mood was set. The victim�s bodies were ripe fruit awaiting his picking.

But he walked away each time. And each time he walked his desire grew. Like the forbidden fruit of the world�s first garden, he wanted to cross the threshold. He wanted to partake of the creation. The killer had made his saliva flow. The heartbeat was there each time. He enjoyed the sweaty palms of anticipation. He saw the begging female body vulnerable and exposed. He yearned to be the gardener. To taketh from the tree of good and evil. He yearned for his Eve

So now, he was setting to work on a second book. This time it was going to be real. Every character was real. Each character and every act by the killer was real. The third chapter of the current book started like this:

"It was six thirty, one hour before the appointed time. As he approached her apartment door, a feeling came over him. The large knife in his overcoat gave him a sense of confidence and anticipation. Joanne was inside, not expecting anyone. He went to knock on the door.

He knew she was inside. He knew she wasn�t prepared. He�d watched her with her friend at the cafe. He�d seen her leave and knew where she had gone. She was a little off colour today. H e knew she�d be a little groggy. That was the bad heroin that she had shot up herself. He�d looked after that with an attractive client the day before. As it coursed through her veins she had dragged herself to work and her feet had lazily walked home, five minutes earlier.

Now, as he knocked, his excitement had built to a crescendo. The conductor had risen to his podium and readied himself for the new instrument to ring out it�s sound. This one was close to his heart, a man who loved his classical music. Yes this instrument was indeed his favorite. He raised himself on the tips of his toes, just as the door opened.

He smiled as he sat reading the manuscript he had written.

He�s finished that chapter now. He didn�t like the humiliation he had to write as she had driven him from the apartment. He�d fix her now. Dismissing that, for another chapter, he started on chapter four�

"The time was eight o�clock, dinner was laid out for him. A lady in her mid forties was sitting opposite at her dining table, delicately putting food in her mouth. Her very appearance beckoning for the after dinner entertainment. The talk revolved around a sexual fantasy she had and wanted to play out tonight. She would be on stage, that much was true, her fantasy fulfilled. Yet John Frederick, the pizza delivery driver, as she knew Peter to be, had another fantasy, and it was different to hers. It also would be played out tonight."

As he finished, the sun was rising and he retired to bed. He fell to sleep in peace.

*******

Loran stood there in amazement. There wasn�t much she could say to a request like that. It was one of those yes or no answers. A lump came to her throat, her joy was unspeakable. She reached across and lay his breakfast in front of him and said. " I would love to be your wife, Mike"

They ate breakfast slowly, sharing plenty of smiles. The conversation was light and off the subject. Loran looked into Mikes eyes and saw great happiness, then with joy and contentment she thought to herself. � That�s my Fiancé.�

*******

Slater woke early. It was no use sleeping anymore. He couldn�t anyway. Something was troubling his mind. Sick to the stomach with fear, he forced himself to have a bacon and egg roll and a coke. It was approaching the time he was supposed to meet Cyril. Cyril mostly met him before eight thirty or after six. He had another job, and Slater knew he didn�t live in that hovel he called home. He�d seen the man dressed in robes of some sort and a wig like lawyers wear. He looked fat enough to be a judge, and for safety�s sake Slater thought he might follow him one day. Yet today wasn�t the day, �cause he must have been on holidays these last couple of weeks and wasn�t going out during the day.

He rapped on the door almost knocking it from off its rusty hinges. A gruff sound came from somewhere inside the house. As he waited at the door he saw what looked like a couple of drops of blood at his feet. He hadn�t noticed them before, and he put his shoe on one to check. It wasn�t quite dry and smudged as he touched it. He leant down quickly putting his finger on it. It was blood all right. Just as he did though, the door opened.

"What are you doing!"

"Just tying my lace."

"Come in then. Where are the boys?"

"A couple of them went to jail," Slater said nervously. A smack came to his head knocking him off balance. Before he could fall though, Cyril had taken a handful of hair and dragged him inside the house. His eyes filled with tears involuntarily. Another hit sent him sprawling. From a semi- conscious state on the floor he heard the door slam and footsteps approach him again. Looking up from an eye that was bleeding and almost closed he caught the sight of what looked like a boot approaching his face. Everything went black...

*******

Dave, who�d woke early, had been surfing and had changed into a suit and tie. He�d re-scheduled a meeting to later in the week. This left him with the day almost free, except that he had to chase up some quotes. He rang Mike on the mobile as he was brushing his long blonde hair.

"Hello, Mike Arlington speaking."

"Hello Mike. It�s Dave. How are you? "

"On top of the world, Dave "

"How did everything work out last night after you left in a hurry?"

"Fantastic mate, I�m engaged "

"What! To Loran? "

"Yes. I asked her this morning and she�s over the moon. It�s just fantastic. I�ve never been so happy. I�d been looking for years for the right girl. Then last year after I broke up with my last girlfriend I did some soul searching. I decided I wasn�t going to look anymore for the right girl. I just concentrated on changing to be the right guy. I did a lot of work on myself and then Loran walked into my life."

Loran sat on the bed brushing her hair and listening. Within her person she felt the glowing remnants of their lovemaking. What a guy! She wondered how much their loving could improve. This morning it had already been different. She smiled as she got up to adjust her dress.

"That sounds terrific, Mike. We�ll talk later when we catch up. At the moment I have to show you plans that an architect has drawn up so you can give me a quote. When are you free?"

"How�s lunchtime today?"

"Okay, I have one now which may go for an hour or two. How about twelve, at the Hard Rock Cafe in the Cross?"

"Sounds fine with me. Can I bring Loran?"

"Yeah of course. We�ll just be chatting for a while. Most of the work you�ll have to research. I haven�t got much on this afternoon so we can spend as much time as you like." Dave said.

*******

The police station appeared much like any other around the world. It had a front desk and an overweight senior officer with a gruff voice who said, "Can I help you?" as they entered. It seemed that their very presence was an agitation. It probably was this early in the morning. His second coffee and less then half of the morning paper still waited for his immediate attention.

"Yes, we would like to see Christine. We have an appointment for 10.00am this morning."

The officer had to consciously drag his gaze from Sharon and shift them to the appointment book on the counter where, after a quick scan, he saw Sharon�s name. He asked, "Are you Sharon?"

"Yes, She replied politely.

"Okay. Take a seat please I�ll give her a call," the officer said.

"Thank you," said Sharon as she and Tony sat down. The officer picked up the phone and dialled the number for Christine with one eye on Sharon�s breasts. He wished that it were his appointment.

He shook his head as he pondered once again why Chris bothered to start an hour and a half before her shift. He couldn�t understand why she bothered to find time, to try and help people outside of her paid working hours. She worked hard enough as it was, and was up for promotion to Detective Sergeant. "Hello, Christine speaking."

"Chris, A Sharon and a young boy are here to see you and your guest"

"Thanks, I�ll be right down."

Seated in the office that Christine had booked for the morning, Dave looked up as Christine said "Make yourself comfortable, I�m going down to get her. I�ll just be a sec"

She went downstairs and approached the counter, lifted the flap on one end and went to greet Sharon. "Hi Sharon I�m pleased you made it." she said with her hand outstretched to greet her.

Sharon shook her hand and said, "Thanks for giving us the time".

"You�re welcome! " Christine replied warmly, "Follow me"

As they walked up the stairs Christine said "This station�s not much but it�s productive and serves a purpose"

"It looks a bit more inviting than I�d imagined."

Christine opened the door to the office and as they entered Dave rose to his feet.

Dave�s eyes looked at the girl in front of him and his heart leapt as it had never leapt before. He smiled and shook her hand as Christine formally introduced them. Sharon then introduced Tony to them all, as they took a seat.

"Before we start, I�ll let you get acquainted a little, while I go and organise some drinks. What would each of you like?"

After collecting the orders Chris left the office, leaving the door slightly ajar

"You were having dinner with Christine last night, weren�t you?" Sharon enquired, to break the silence.

"Yes. That�s right."

"The winker!"

"Yes. That was me," he replied smiling. I told her that I�d winked at you and she invited me."

"To this meeting? Sharon asked. She was impressed with this honesty. "So what role are you playing? Matchmaker or being matched?"

Dave laughed heartily. The girl had spirit. He liked that. "Neither. No that isn�t the reason I�m here. I�m helping Christine. You�re just a bonus."

Tony laughed. The guy was a flirting openly. He obviously didn�t know who he was dealing with. But he thought the guy was cool. She looked impressed too.

"Anyway a little of my background. I first met Christine when I was an alcoholic and a homosexual. Christine helped me through a lot of the pain in my life, simply because she has a tremendous heart and love for people. So successful was she in her counsel, that now, I�ve managed to become quite successful in my business and social life."

"That�s good," Sharon said. A tinge of hope creeping into her voice.

Dave went on to share a little of his past and how he had managed to work through a lot of his problems. The pain he had endured and the answers he had found had led him to feel for other people in the Cross. Dave continued by saying that Christine had asked him to attend today�s meeting in order to see a little of her work. "We�re thinking of getting a program going to help the street kids in the area. Seeing that Tony was a street kid until you took him in, Christine thought it may be valuable for me to come along and listen."

To many people Dave�s tone may have seemed condescending, yet Sharon recognised that this hunk of a man in front of her had truly known pain in his past. He was here to help, and for that, she said, "Thanks for being here."

"And how are you, Tony? "

Interrupted in his thoughts and surprised that anyone had noticed him and spoken to him, Tony looked up and hesitated before answering. Without knowing what caused him to say such a thing, except the feeling that this bloke would understand he said, " I�m scared." with a quiver in his voice.

"What of, Tony?" Dave asked, moving from his seat and taking Tony�s hand in his.

"I�m scared the police will take me away from Sharon. She loves me Dave," he said desperately. He appeared to be on the verge of tears.

Seeing Tony so upset, Dave moved his hand to his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "It�s Okay Tony. Nobody�s going to take you away from Sharon. I know you can�t believe me, let alone trust me mate, but everything will be just fine. You�re in good hands here you know."

Christine entered the room with the drinks and surmised what had happened. Although everyone appeared very serious, there was also a feeling of hope in the room. She thought to herself "Well that�s good. The ice seems to have been broken".

Looking at Dave she said" I don�t know what has happened in here or who�s said what to whom, but one thing I know is that I�m pleased I had you attend here today, Dave."

"Yeah." Sharon said, and then blushed with embarrassment when she realised she had thought aloud.

Everyone in the room turned to look at her as the comment slipped out. Dave�s look was the most important. He acknowledged her slip with a smile. They both knew they were attracted to each other.

After they spent over half an hour of chatting and an hour filing out forms: Tony had a new guardian; Sharon had made a new friend in Christine; Tony�s fears had evaporated and. Sharon�s mind was at peace.

They exchanged goodbyes that started initially with handshakes but soon turned to warm hugs. Everyone was happy with the outcome. Parting was necessary, but Sharon was a little hesitant in leaving this room. Never before had she felt this warmth. The love in the room was different in a way she couldn�t explain. Christine and Dave were special people, and she was grateful for more than the result achieved.

On entering the warm mid morning breeze outside the station Tony gave his newfound mother a hug. The sheer enormity of the situation, and all that had transpired in the past two days hadn�t fully sunk in.

Tony walked with his head held high. No more was he everyone�s punching bag or emotional rubbish tip where anyone could dump their bad feelings. He had found a home where someone else could look after him.

As Sharon and Tony walked hand in hand down the street in silence they had serene looks on their faces. They daydreamed, hardly noticing the hustle and bustle of the mid city street they were aimlessly wandering along. From time to time they would look at each other and smile.

Sharon�s life now held some meaning and someone was depending on her, yet the sense of responsibility didn�t weigh her down. Instead it had lifted her spirits in hope for a new direction. Life�s purpose seemed to be taking shape and the boy walking beside her was an encouragement to sort herself out. As she looked down at Tony, she thought she could hug him to death for the positive impact he already was having on her life. Her mind drifted and she thought of Dave.

He had looked pretty smart this morning and a little feeling of regret entered her mind for an instant. It was quickly banished. Sharon wouldn�t allow anything negative to invade this feeling of happiness illuminating her very being. Dave was so handsome with his long blond hair, warm hazel eyes and muscular physique. He had mentioned, during the time they had been in the room together, that he loved surfing and his physical build bore testimony. He had a large chest with strong powerful looking arms, a far cry from the day to day image people associate with gays.

It intrigued her, as to why such an attractive guy would lead a homosexual lifestyle. He could have had any woman he wanted with those good looks. Even her heart. She knew that good looks don�t equate automatically with a healthy self-esteem. So whilst being intrigued for a little while, she came to a quick conclusion that he definitely had been homosexual for other reasons.

She was also impressed, that he had said he used to be an alcoholic. Sharon had met a lot of alcoholics in her life and had known some of them when they had temporarily kicked the bottle. But every one of these still had a lingering fear that one day, when things got tough, they may return to the solace of the bottle. Yet Dave talked about the problem he had with alcohol in the past tense, as though drinking wasn�t a consideration or even a minute part of a problem anymore. This spoke to her of a power, or self-fortitude, that was attractive and something she�d like to know more about in the future.

The fact that he talked about his homosexuality in the past tense also seemed to rattle her cage. Most stories she�d heard of in the media didn�t make that possible. Wasn�t it gene thing? Never had she heard of a gay person leaving that lifestyle and being perfectly happy and fulfilled in a heterosexual relationship. Before today. Dave was the exception it seemed. But how? She wondered.

She loved his sheer honesty. He seemed to have no shame in telling a total stranger the very deep and personal secrets of his life. This frankness made her head swim. To think he could bring up his failings and hurts in front of strangers went beyond what she�d ever known before. His story was free of guilt and his empathy with Tony was staggering.

Ten minutes worth of thinking and she wanted to see this guy again. After quickly telling Tony to continue home and giving him the spare key, she turned and raced back to the police station.