Baby Girl Doe (Stephanie Chalice Thrillers Book 5) (25 page)

Raiden: 2000

“Hey, stop wasting the trash bags,” Ray said as he pulled a white t-shirt over his head and rushed down the steps of the foster home.

Mica looked up as Ray approached. Ray was skinny, and his jeans were baggy around the legs. His hair was long, and it glistened with the luster of youth.

Mica said, “I just do what they tell me. The man says, ‘line the trashcan,’ I line the trashcan.”

“Man, I’m going to need some of them for my getaway,” Ray said. “Don’t be wasting that fine foster-home luggage on food scraps and junk. The raccoons just knock the cans over and eat through the bags anyway. The sanitation guys always shovel it up—that’s what they get paid for, isn’t it? Besides, it’s dark already. No one’s going to come out and check.” He reached for the unused trash bag. “Give me that. I need it.”

“Take it—less work for me anyhow.” Mica snatched a half-smoked cigarette from behind his ear. “Got a light?”

Ray reached into his pocket. “Ever know me not to have matches?” He struck a match and lit the stub.

“So what’s with this getaway?” Mica asked as he puffed on the cigarette.

“Told you. I’m busting out. I can’t be dealing with this lame foster-ass living anymore.”

“Where do you think you’re going to go, some swanky resort in the Swiss Alps?”

“I got a plan. Hey, give me tug on your ciggy,” Ray said.

Mica pinched the cigarette by the end of the filter so he wouldn’t burn his fingers as he handed it to Ray. “Don’t smoke it all,” he said.

“Relax,” Ray said as he took a long and satisfying drag. “I’ve got a couple of butts in my pocket.” He took one out and lit it from the one he held between his lips. He handed the fresh stub to Mica. “You got any chores you gotta do?”

“No. I’m finished for the day. What about you?”

Ray’s expression said,
don’t be ridiculous
. “I forgot that you’re new here. I don’t do chores.”

“What do you mean you don’t do you’re chores? Everybody—”

Ray exhaled, blowing the smoke skyward. “Nope. Not everybody.” He flicked away the cigarette butt and watched as the orange embers glowed in the dark. “Hey, check it out.” He slid a small can of Zippo lighter fluid out of his back pocket and squirted the liquid close enough to the smoldering butt for it to catch fire.

“Cool,” Mica said. “Where’d you get it?”

“I stole the old man’s lighter fluid.” Ray shrugged. “I mean it’s not like I’ve got money to buy stuff.”

“You’d better put it back before he knows it’s gone,” Mica said.

“Why? What’s he gonna do about it?” Ray spotted a water bug emerging from the sewer drain. His eyes sparkled with an idea. “Watch this.” He traced a wide circle around the water bug with the lighter fluid and then connected it to the burning cigarette butt, encircling the giant insect in a ring of fire. “He’s trapped,” Ray said gleefully. The water bug raced away from the flame only to find that there was nowhere for it to escape. He traced a smaller concentric circle within the larger one, drawing the flame closer to the doomed insect. The bug raced frantically in scattered directions. A third concentric circle trapped the bug, giving it almost no room in which to move.

“That’s mean, man,” Mica said. “Just burn it already.”

“Not yet.” He watched as the bug repeatedly moved an inch in each direction, repeating its unsuccessful attempts to escape. He finally squeezed the can, dousing the bug in lighter fluid. He smiled as the bug caught fire, burned, and crackled. “Let’s go find more stuff to burn.”

The door to the foster home opened and Old Man Forrester slowly stepped outside. “Mica? Ray?” The old man squinted, trying to see the boys in the darkness. “What the hell are you two up to?”

“Shit. Run!” Ray grabbed Mica’s arm, and they ran off down the block. The sign at the end of the street read: No Trespassing, NY State. They easily scaled the chain-link fence and landed in the water collection sump.

Ray became hysterical with laughter.

Mica had difficulty catching his breath. “Damn. We’ll catch all kinds of shit when we go home later.”

“You worry too much,” Ray insisted as he sat down on the ground. “Here, take these.” He showed Mica a prescription bottle and shook some of the pink capsules into his palm.

“What are those?” Mica asked.

“The old man’s pain pills. I took them once, and they made me feel really good.” He put two of the capsules in his mouth and swallowed. “Go ahead, try it.”

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Yeah. It’s not much stronger than a beer buzz.”

Mica put a couple of capsules in his mouth. “This better not mess me up.”

“Just swallow them,” Ray insisted. “Don’t be such a pussy.”

When Mica’s eyes opened, he realized that he was lying outdoors on the cool ground.
The grass around him was damp, and a field mouse scampered by, not two inches from his arm. His head ached and his vision was blurry.

“What the hell?” He rubbed his aching forehead and turned on his side. Three cigarette butts lay on the ground where Ray had been. “What?” The cicada’s song built to a deafening level while he looked around for Ray. He called out, “Ray? Hey, Ray, where you at, man?”

He stood up and scanned the area around him. The sump was level ground for about ten yards and then dropped suddenly into a deep basin used to funnel rainwater into the ground. Mica stood at the edge of the basin and looked into it. It was very deep, too deep and dark for him to see the bottom.

Where the hell is he?

“Hey, jackoff, it’s not funny. Where’d you—”

“Boo!”

Mica clutched his chest and sucked in a chestful of air. He looked back over his shoulder. Ray was standing behind him, laughing hysterically.

“Asshole!” Mica shouted. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You should see your face,” Ray said with his finger pointing straight at Mica’s nose. “You look like you just saw a goddamn ghost.”

“Yeah, very fucking funny, Ray. You scared the crap out of me.”

“Aw, relax and stop acting like such a chump. I’m just having a little fun, that’s all.”

“Have fun with someone else.” Mica glared at Ray and marched over to the chain-link fence.

“Hey! Cool down,” Ray shouted. “Why are you so mad? You had a good time, didn’t you?”

“Piss off, Ray.”

“Man, I got you stoned. We had some laughs. What’ve you got to complain about?”

“I said piss
off
.” Mica got a toehold in the chain-link fence and boosted himself up.

Ray grabbed him by the belt.

“Hey! Get off me,” Mica protested. “Don’t you know when it’s time to quit?”

“Get back down here, you scared little bitch.” Ray yanked him off the fence.

Mica clenched his fists and spun around. Before he knew what hit him, Ray pressed his lips against his mouth.

“Ugh!”
Mica made no attempt to conceal his disgust. “Are you nuts? Are you, a fucking homo or something?”

The sudden yelp of a police siren made both boys jump. A police car stopped just outside the sump. The beacon from the police car illuminated them. “Freeze!” an officer called out.

“Oh shit,” Mica said. “Look what—” He stopped when he realized that Ray was pressed up against him. “Ray,” he whispered, “what’s wrong with you?” He shoved him away just as the policeman approached.

“That’s enough,” the policeman said. He approached holding a searchlight above a drawn automatic. He shone the searchlight beam in Mica’s face and then Ray’s before his focus settled on Ray. “Not you again. Jesus, you’ve got to be kidding me.” He shook his head unhappily, took a step back, and ran the beam up and down over Ray, from head to toe, and then over Mica. He shook his head again this time in dismay. “All right, you two. Get down off the fence, and don’t try anything stupid.” He stepped back to give the two boys room to get down off the fence, but continued to hold the automatic beneath his searchlight. “Turn around, both of you—hands against the fence, feet spread.” He waited for both of the boys to comply before holstering his weapon and securing his searchlight. He handcuffed them both. “Wait right here,” he said to Mica and led Ray to his squad car. He opened the back door. “Get in there, you skinny little twerp.” He turned toward Mica the instant the back door was locked.

“Turn around. What’s your name, son?” the police officer asked.

Mica’s face was drenched in sweat. “M-M-Mica,” he stammered.

“Mica what? You got a last name?”

“Mica Hollister, Sir.”

“Calm down, Mica. I want to ask you a few questions.”

“O-okay.”

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“Do you live at the foster home down the street?”

Mica nodded. “Yes.”

“I haven’t seen you before. Are you new?”

“Yessir, only been living there about a month.”

“No one warned you about Ray?”

“Warned me?” Mica seemed confused. “About what?”

“All right, son, I’m going to cut to the chase. Were you and Ray having sex in there?”

Mica gulped. “Sex? No. No, Sir. Why? Why do you ask?”

“Because it looked as if the two of you were kissing when I pulled up. Were you?”

“Kissing? No. No, Sir.”

“You sound nervous, Mica. Tell the truth, were you and Ray kissing?”

“No.”

“Then why do you have lipstick all over your mouth?”

“I . . . what?” Mica’s eyes widened, and he dragged his hand across his mouth. He stared at his hand in the moonlight, trying to see if the smudge he saw there was red. “I-I-I don’t know how it got there.”

“Well, I do. You’re not homosexual are you?”

Mica shook his head frantically. “No.”

“Do you want to press charges against Ray?”

“Charges?”

“Sexual assault.”

“Why would I—”

“You do know that your fly is wide open, don’t you?”

Mica’s eyes dropped. He stared at his gaping fly in disbelief and then quickly zipped. His throat tightened, and he looked to be on the verge of tears.

“Did Ray make you have sex against your will?”

“No. He gave me some pills, and I fell asleep.”

The police officer formed a knowing expression. “They weren’t pink capsules, were they?”

Mica nodded. His upper lip broke out in dabs of sweat.

“It’s all right, son. Turn around.” The police officer removed Mica’s handcuffs. “I’ll take you over to the hospital, and we’ll get you checked out.”

Raiden: 2012

Alana Moore dropped a pile of textbooks on the counter.
She smiled at the guy behind the cash register as she opened her bag and removed her wallet. She pulled out her student ID card and placed it atop the stack of books.

“That’s quite a pile of books you’ve got there.”

“Who’d have thought there’d be so much to read about acting theory?” Alana replied. “Acting isn’t feeling all that glamorous to me right now.”

Everyone working at the Bennington College Bookstore wore the college colors and a bookstore nametag. Ray wore a blue vest over his white t-shirt. He began to look at the pile of books. “We’ve got a couple of used copies of the Saint-Denis book if you want to save some money.”

“I looked,” Alana said. “I didn’t see any.”

“Really? I know I saw at least one when I straightened up the stock this morning. I’ll show you. Come on.”

Ray stepped out from behind the counter.

Alana seemed happy to follow him as he squeezed through the narrow aisles of eight-foot-tall metal shelving. “I haven’t seen you here before. Are you new?” she asked.

“No.” Ray said without turning around to make eye contact. He seemed intent on finding the used book for her. “But this is the first time I’ve worked on campus.”

“You don’t sound like you’re from around here. Where are you from?”

Everywhere and nowhere.
He turned and smiled this time, he smiled for all he was worth. “Long Island. Why, do I sound weird?”

No. You sound cute . . .
She wasn’t normally attracted to slight men.
But that smile. Yummy.
“You just sound different, that’s all. I mean it’s not a bad thing.”

“Thanks.” Ray looked through a stack of books and quickly found the one he was looking for. “The old one has a different cover,” he said as he handed the book to Alana. “That’s probably why you missed it.”

“Oh, that’s great.” She checked the price which was written in pencil on the inside back cover. “Twelve bucks cheaper.” She wasn’t much of a flirt, but she was interested in him and hoped that it showed. “How can I thank you?”

“I don’t have a car, but if you’re not turned off by public transportation, we could go into town and grab a bite.”

She was happy to be hit on and blushed. “This fortuitous meeting may just work out very well for you.”

“What do you mean?” Ray’s eyes grew large with excitement.

“Don’t get carried away with yourself. I drive because I don’t live on campus. I commute.”

“That’s great. Really, you drive?”
That’s it. Tell me everything I need to know about you. Go ahead, I’m listening attentively.

“Yes,
I drive
,” she said.

“Oh that’s cool. I heard Kevin’s Pub serves a great burger.”

“Yeah. They
really
do.” They were less than five minutes into their relationship, but Alana already sensed the chemistry flowing between them. He seemed very easy to talk to. “So it’s a date?” She smiled prettily, while clutching the large textbook to her stomach.

“Works for me. Of course, it would be nice if I knew your name,” he said once again lighting up the smile billboard.

“Eek!”
Overanxious much? Gee whiz, girl. Don’t be such a klutz.
“Alana. I forgot that you’re the only one wearing a nametag. Mine should read: Ditzy.”

Ray laughed a bit louder than he normally would have in response to her mediocre joke, as she smiled broadly.

“You’re a fellow carnivore, I trust?” he asked.

“Are you kidding? I’m from Hoosick Falls. Where I live, if you don’t eat cow, you just plain don’t eat—it’s as simple as that. I grew up on steak and potatoes.”

Ray chuckled. “When’s the last time you checked your cholesterol?”

“The point is moot. My mother thinks if you serve steak well done, it no longer counts as red meat.”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here—did you grow up on a farm? Are you a farm girl?”

“Milking cows and feeding chickens—that’s why I’m a theater major. I’m only in my twenties, but I’ve already had enough reality to fill a lifetime. Believe me there’s nothing quite as invigorating as slogging through a barn filled with cow manure and carrying a metal bucket at four in the morning to start the day off right. Now you know everything about me. That’s why I’m studying so hard . . . It’s bright-lights-big-city for this girl.”

“Who’s going to milk the cows while you’re gone?”

Alana tilted her head to the side. “Machines do it.
As if
you really care.”

“Not so. I’m
udder-ly
committed to the humane treatment of all farm animals.”

“That was incredibly lame. Maybe I ought to think twice about going out with you.”

“How about tonight?”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah, unless you’re worried about the cows or something. We’ll go to Kevin’s—you drive, I’ll treat.”

Alana pretended to ruminate for a moment. “Okay, let’s do it,” she said with a girlish lilt in her voice. “I’ll pick you up here at—”

“I get off at six.”

“Six is good for me too.” She turned and walked toward the register. “Well, Ray, are you going to ring me up? I don’t have all day you know,” she said teasingly.

~~~

You do have all day but that’s about all you’ve got. Tonight I’ll treat you to your last supper.
He rang up the sale and continued to smile at her while he contemplated how she would die.