With Cruel Intent (20 page)

each cup of her pushup bra and adjusted

herself accordingly, before pulling on the

slacks and slipping the shirt around her

shoulders.

Without much in store for the day,

other than work later in the afternoon for a

short shift, she had concluded to avoid the

yard work that needed to be done and

make a trip into town to check out the

farmers market and try to meet some

friends for a late lunch. Ms. Criddle was

not one to leave chores undone but she just

had a feeling this was going to be a very

special day and she didn’t want a few

menial chores to get in her way of

capitalizing on what the day may offer.

“First things first,” she thought.

“I’ll grab a quick bite then run down to the

gas station, fill up, wash the ‘stang; then

head to town. I wonder if that good

looking Russell, at the hardware store,

would be up for a visit from the hottest

babe in town?” her thoughts drifted, as she

opened her bedroom door and ambled

toward the kitchen.

“He’s probably pretty lonely since

his divorce was finalized, could use some

female companionship and maybe a

shoulder to cry on. Oh yeah, I’ll be

stopping by there today and...,” then aloud,

but not fully registering the import of what

stood before her, “What in the....,” and

then it hit her. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh!”

she screamed, turning circles in the

kitchen, unsure where to go or what to do,

but her stomach forced the issue sending

her running for the kitchen sink where she

vomited up the remains of her dinner the

night before.

She stood at the sink, spitting,

mind reeling, unsure of what to do next.

“Think, think!” she told herself, “don’t

panic, get a grip!” The distressed widow

slowly turned to take in the horror that

was her kitchen. There before her was the

kitchen table with all six chairs arranged

in a pyramid on top of the table, balanced

perfectly. She stepped to the backdoor to

see if it was securely locked. It was. She

carefully walked around the table as not to

disturb the structure but to get a closer

look, still in shock that someone or

something had been in her home and had

done such a thing. As she ringed the table,

she spotted something nestled between the

legs of two chairs a bit higher than she

could reach. It appeared to be a small

piece of paper or perhaps a photograph.

“Dear God, what’s happening?”

she whispered, tears staining her blouse.

Katie finally got enough of a grip on her

emotions that she realized she needed to

call the authorities. “The phone, where

did I leave that damn phone?” questioning

herself out loud. The sound of her voice

seemed to offer some degree of comfort

and safety. Her mind shot scenarios at her

faster than she could compute them but one

stood out more than the others. “What if

he’s still in the house? WHAT IF HE’S

STILL IN THE HOUSE!”

“Got to get the police and get out

of here,” she continued to talk to herself.

She suddenly remembered seeing the

phone near the sink after she’d showered.

Without hesitating she quickly made her

way back to her bedroom, peering into the

laundry room and spare bedroom as she

passed, hoping not to see anything out of

the ordinary, and she didn’t. The phone

was next to the sink as she had thought.

Rapidly she dialed 911 and waited trying

to contain her breathing, feeling a bit light

headed.

There was an answer at the other

end, “9-1-1, what is the nature of your

emergency?”

Now whispering as not to alert an

intruder if he was, in fact, still inside the

home, “Someone broke into my house and

I’m not sure if he’s still here, son of a

bitch stacked my chairs on my table,”

Katie slowly started back down the

hallway to the kitchen.

“Excuse me, he did what?” the

operator seated inside the Lowndes

County Sheriff’s Office inquired.

“He piled my kitchen chairs on the

table like a pyramid thingy. I need some

help, please send somebody!”

“I’ve got officers responding;

please confirm your address for me, okay.

Stay on the line, don’t do anything but stay

on the phone with me. Is he still in the

house?” she asked firmly.

“I don’t know, I don’t know, I

don’t dare look around. What do I do if

he’s here?” tearfully whispered the

terrified woman back into the receiver.

“Listen to me, is this Katherine

Criddle?” no reply. “Katherine, you with

me, don’t leave the phone, are you with

me?” the operator said forcefully, trying to

keep the victim’s attention.

“Yeah, I’m here, I’m so scared,

please help me, please send somebody!”

she sobbed into the phone; tears running

incessantly down her cherry cheeks.

“Okay Katherine, I want you to get

out of the house, can you do that? I want

you to get to the front door and get out of

there and wait for the officers in the street.

You hear me? Get out of there now!”

“Okay, okay I can see the front

door from here,” she said, moving toward

the living room and her escape.

“No, No, No! Please no! Why me?

I... I... I …...” Screaming ,then silence.

The 911 operator listened. Nothing.

“Katherine! Mrs. Criddle what’s

happened? Can you hear me?” She

pressed her ear firmly to the headset,

trying to draw any possible response from

the petrified woman. Then she heard it,

very faint, very light, but the unmistakable

sound of someone breathing, almost

snoring, coming from within the living

room of 412 Big Buck Circle.

The operator, knowing that only

one Sheriff’s Unit was available to

respond, called upon the help of the

Valdosta PD and emergency fire and

ambulance crews to assist as well.

Multiple squad cars and emergency

vehicles from the county and city were

soon rushing to aid the victim, her

circumstances unknown.

At the same time the 911 operator

was scrambling help to Katherine’s

location, Blanche was standing in the

shade of one of the larger trees populating

the grounds of the old library, having an

early morning banter with Mr. Marcus.

Suddenly, they saw the first squad car

speed through the intersection, lights and

sirens blaring, sending pedestrians running

for the safety of the sidewalks.

“Whoa,

what’s

that

about?”

Marcus hollered above the sounds of the

sirens. Blanche shrugged her shoulders,

thinking of the next barb she might send

his way, when a second unit roared past

the two, again with lights and sirens going.

“Quite a bit of excitement for little

old Valdosta this morning, eh Marcus?

You forget to turn off your stove after you

brewed your coffee or something?” she

jokingly put forth.

“Now that you mention it, the Mrs.

said something about mowing the lawn

this morning, hope she didn’t cut her foot

off or anything. Don’t think the insurance

will cover that,” he replied sarcastically.

A couple of miles away the

students on the college campus were also

alarmed at the number of sirens they were

hearing.

“Must be quite the emergency,

sounds like the entire force is on the move

this morning,” Seymour said to the cute

freshman, standing with him just outside

the athletic department.

He’d just finished his morning

workout and shower when he’d heard the

commotion and hustled outside to see

what was afoot.

She adoringly looked up at the

older, more experienced college student,

batted her eyes a few times and replied.“

Maybe there’s some crazy person on

campus running around with a gun or

something. Might be safer if we go to my

dorm room and wait this little emergency

out.”

The innuendo and offer were

totally lost on Seymour who took a few

steps closer in the direction of the noise

and inferred, “No, don’t think this is a

campus issue, sounds are moving away

from downtown rather than coming toward

us.”

The young lady, disappointment

showing on her face, pulled her book and

binder to her chest, rocked herself from

the waist up and said in childish tone,

“Won’t you at weast walk me to my next

cwass, I’m a wittle sceawwed?”

Seymour turned to address the

persistent young lady when the sound of

another siren caught his ear, this one

moving quickly in their direction. She

advanced the couple of steps to join

Seymour at his side, ran a hand between

his side and arm and pulled his bicep to

her breast and laid her head against his

shoulder, appreciating the bulge that was

there. More students filled the empty

spaces around the two as the sounds

approached. Questions filled the air in

shouted tones to get above the sound of the

multiple sirens.

The freshman, lost in the thrill of

holding the older student so close, forgot

about the possible threat at hand, and

nuzzled her face against Seymour who

seemed unaware of her affections. Within

a moment or two an ambulance could be

seen weaving its way between stalled

traffic, working its way down the main

boulevard, followed closely behind by a

fire engine, lights reflecting off the

buildings and sirens screaming. The group

of students, including Seymour with the

cute student latched on, surged to the street

in an effort to get a better view and

postulate what might be happening. To the

relief of the young lady the emergency

vehicles advanced beyond the college and

raced toward their ultimate destination.

“Good crap, are they ever in a

hurry. What could they be up to this early

in the morning?” Seymour said, more to

himself than to anyone in particular.

“Well, I surely don’t know, but I’d

sure like to spend some more time with

you this morning,” she said, pulling his

arm close and rubbing it suggestively

against her clad bosom. Once she’d gotten

his attention and she could see that he was

looking directly into her eyes, she

continued, “If you know what I mean?”

winking.

“Oh, yeah, I mean no, really I’d

love to hang out with you for awhile this

morning but I’ve got a project I’ve got to

get together and need to hit the library

before my noon class,” he tripped over his

tongue but he was sure she’d gotten the

message.

“You sure? I think I can make it

worth your while,” she said; in her best

Southern drawl in a final attempt to sway

her crush.

“I really appreciate the offer;

maybe another day.” Pulling him away

from her grasp and waving as he jogged

toward the library, Blanche foremost on

his mind.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A light breeze swayed the limbs of

the old oak tree just outside the second

story window of Blanche’s room. Spanish

moss hung in great sheets from the angled

branches, some extending almost to the

ground, casting spider web like shadows

on the bedspread upon which Blanche lay.

The fleeing sunlight, all but gone for the

day, Blanche lay meditating, as she

always did upon completing a novel,

absorbing the full impact and importance

of the words that had so touched her soul

over these past two weeks. She loved a

book that could pull her into the pages and

make her a part, as had
Mandingo.

The beating of her heart could be

felt, her hand resting there, her eyes

closed, lost in the story, mingling it with

her own life and journey. She thought of