Corruption, depravity, and pure, unadulterated evil lurked unseen within the dark alleys of Whipton. Hidden beneath layers of community ambiance, the cloaked adversary slipped unnoticed from the shadows to terrorize, maim, or murder the town’s citizens with no consideration to social status, age, sex, or purity of intentions. When the unwelcomed guest knocked, few survived.

************

Whipton is a small, friendly town nestled in the lush rolling hills of Illinois, near the Mississippi River. In the 1800s, one of its founding fathers, George McCallister, chose a large parcel of land to build his family home to the east of the city. As the town prospered, McCallister divided the land into large expansive lots, taking great care to preserve the towering maples that lined the cobble-stoned streets.

After McCallister’s death, his grandson, Brian McCallister, a prosperous business tycoon, discovered land value had skyrocketed. The old stately homes were deteriorating, and it proved highly profitable to sell the land to corporations, turning the area into an industrial park.

The original homestead on the hill overlooking the Mississippi became the site for Whipton High School. This afternoon, vehicles lined the massive circular drive, waiting to pick up their students. Amidst the cars, an undercover FBI team kept surveillance on a suspected drug dealer. Several agents clipped hedges and gathered trash, while others surveyed the monitors inside a landscaping box truck. Garth Woodman lowered his Stetson to shade his eyes in the parking lot across the street as he maintained a visual on his current target, Jesse Martinez.

“Tango, you got ears on this guy?” Garth barked into his mic.

“Sure do, boss. It’s loud and clear. Can’t make out who he’s been jawing with, but it’s someone with clout.” Tango cleared his throat. “Everything the other guy says seems encrypted. He’s a cautious one.”

“Probably why we haven’t uncovered his identity yet. But we will.”

“Sure adds some heat to the hunt.” Tango adjusted his headset and checked his monitors. “You know how I love everything hot and spicey, right, boss?”

“Oh, I do, Tango. The show’s about to start. The track team is rounding the corner. I trust you can stay focused on our target and not the young cuties as they bounce by your truck.” Garth chuckled as he envisioned the snarling grimace Tango made at his comment. “Let’s see if our perp is interested in any of them.”

As the track team approached, Jesse ended his phone call and leaned against the car. A toothpick bobbed between his teeth. Visions of the delectable young flesh beneath his loins torched his manhood; a bubble of drool nestled in the corner of his mouth.

Jesse pressed his hand against the front of his jeans and sighed.

Not today, my friend, not today.

He tore his eyes off the girls’ jiggling breasts and long, lean legs. Today, he was only interested in one girl and she was a beauty. Sasha McKay’s blonde ponytail swung from side to side as she jogged toward him. The high school track star didn’t have her usual strong, tight form today. Instead, she appeared tired and winded, evidence of a late night. The young athlete never ran at the back of the pack.

As they jogged by, he waited until Sasha passed in front of him and then called out her name, “Sasha.”

Without changing her rhythm, she glanced toward the voice. Not recognizing anyone, she scowled and continued jogging a few more feet.

“Sasha McKay? I’ve got a message for you.”

Sasha made an abrupt stop. The sunlight blinded her view of Jesse. She raised her hand to her brows and squinted in Jesse’s direction. Confused, she questioned him. “For me? I don’t know you.”

Jesse couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming up and down the delectable morsel. His mouth wanted to latch on to those pouty lips and devour her. He put his lusty thoughts in check.

“Congratulations on winning the meet last night. Nice job!”

“Thank you, but I still don’t know you.” Sasha turned to go. “Sorry, but I’ve got to finish my run.”

“Must have been some celebration. Too bad about the ticket.” Jesse waited for the much-expected response.

Sasha froze. “Ticket? You must have me mistaken with someone else.”

“No, afraid not, Princess.” Jesse chuckled at his clever use of her dad’s pet name for her. “Your dad is the Honorable Judge John McKay.”

“Yeah, so what?” The Princess turned into Cruella De Vil. “How’s that any of your business?”

Her waspy tone rolled off his cool facade. He’d expected worse. “I want to help you.”

“I don’t need your help. My dad will take care of anything I need.” The spoiled Princess returned.

Jesse scratched his ear. His cold, steel-blue eyes locked onto her emerald ones. “I don’t see that happening.” Jesse paused for one second before serving the main course. “You can kiss your scholarship goodbye. Daddy’s Princess will be all over the headlines. A bit humiliating since he’s been so hard on other townsfolk.”

“Listen. I have to catch up with my team. The coach will ask questions.” Sasha was sweating, and it wasn’t from the workout. She did not know who this man was, but he knew too much about her.

“Fine… I’ll be around.” Jesse stepped into the street, headed for the other side of his car. “My boss can make your problems vanish like they never happened.” He watched for her reaction.

Like a fish in search of the worm, Sasha snatched the bait. “Why would he do that?”

“Because he’s a friend of your dad’s, and he needs a favor.”

“A favor? What kind of favor? I’m not doing any sex stuff, so you can forget it if that’s what you have in mind. I have a boyfriend.”

“No, nothing like that.” Jesse waved his hand in the air toward the school. “Catch up with your team. I’ll be in touch. Go…”

She stared at him, shuddered, and then turned away, running at full speed to catch her teammates. She glanced over her shoulder once. But Jesse and his car had disappeared. A team of FBI agents in a black SUV followed him, keeping a safe distance behind him.

************

At the sound of the last bell, Rachel scooped up her books and hurried through the crowded hallway. Over the end-of-the-day buzz, she heard a familiar voice calling her name.

“Rach, we’re having a quick meeting about the dance. Can you stay?” Sasha, the junior class president, yelled over the heads of their classmates.

“Sorry, Sasha. I’ve got something important to take care of. Call me later and fill me in, okay?” Party favors and decorations were far from Rachel’s thoughts. Instead, she’d done nothing all day but worry about her best friend, Beth. It wasn’t like her to miss class, unless-.

Dwight Culbertson was an alcoholic, a womanizer, and an abuser. Since the recent death of his wife, he’d funneled his brutal anger toward his daughter Beth. Last weekend, he’d thrown a gin bottle at her because it was empty, striking the back of her head. Fearing additional reprisal, Beth had cowered on the floor until she heard a crescendo of loud, choppy snoring from behind the bedroom door. Only then did she call Rachel for reinforcements.

Armed with a first aid kit, Rachel had rushed to Beth’s side. Together, the girls stopped the bleeding, cleaned the wound, and packed it with ice. Beth’s thick curly ponytail had hidden the lump until the swelling went down. Rachel’s pleas to seek help fell on deaf ears. Beth had nagged until she agreed to pinky swear not to tell anyone.

At the edge of the school grounds, Rachel pulled her cell phone from her book bag and hit the speed dial for Beth. The insistent ringing jarred her nerves. As she paced, she nibbled on her lip until she tasted a trickle of blood.

“Come on, Beth. Where are you? Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

Rachel ran her tongue across her lower lip, wiping the speck of blood away. An icy chill ran up her spine, and she shivered in the eighty-degree heat. Thoughts of Beth lying hurt inside the house flashed through her mind, followed by disturbing thoughts of a drunk and threatening Dwight towering over her body. Regardless of her fear, Rachel knew her search had to begin at the Culbertson house.

************

Tiny, run-down bungalows lined the narrow street. The yards were littered with trash, vehicles in need of repair, and discarded Big Wheel trikes, bikes, and forgotten toys. Unattended children darted across the street with disregard for Roberta Atwell’s moving vehicle. Suspicious of the shiny navy blue government vehicle, people glared at the two occupants as it passed by.

Virginia, a newbie on the job, fidgeted in the passenger seat. She had a nervous lilt in her voice when she spoke. “The neighbors sure don’t look welcoming, Roberta.” Her shoulders shifted away from the car window.

“You can’t blame the residents, considering last month’s raid on the wrong house. They don’t know who to trust. As far as they’re concerned, anyone from the Department of Child Services or the police department is their arch enemy.”

“Oh, wow! I didn’t realize that happened in this neighborhood.” Virginia amended her opinion and smiled at the cold, blank faces. A bike whizzed by the passenger window, and the teenage rider flipped the bird at them. A woman with a baby on her hip stood in her front yard talking to another woman. They both turned their backs to the street as the caseworkers drove by. There weren’t any signs of being welcomed in their neighborhood.

“This neighborhood or a hundred like it, it’s a tough life. Everyone’s looking for a shot at something better.” Roberta’s face softened. “Oh, since you’re going to be my sidekick, you should know my friends call me Bert.”

“Bert, it is.” Virginia laughed. “My friends call me Gigi.” 

**********

Bert eased the car to the curb. “That’s the house, right there.” She pointed at a white bungalow with green chipped shutters and a ragged awning. “Looks like the door is standing open, like someone left in a hurry.”

“What’s the story with this family?” Gigi studied the outside of the house. “The place looks like it could use some work. Are both parents in the picture?” A trace of apprehension left her feeling unsettled.

It wasn’t a new scene to Bert. Ten years of hard-luck stories, domestic abuse, and poverty prepared her for the sad state of affairs she faced when starting a fresh case. Gigi was new and skeptical. She opened the passenger door, following Bert’s lead, and joined her. Weeds and an occasional sapling sprouted from the cracks and crevices in the sidewalk. Gigi stepped over the faded hop-scotch game drawn on the sidewalk and bits of broken chalk. Like everything else, it had seen better days.

Bert sighed and shook her head. “Six months ago, the Culbertson’s had a horrific car accident. A semi tractor-trailer T-boned their vehicle out at Winnebago Corners. Reports say the driver saw them but couldn’t stop when they pulled out in front of him. The impact sent both parents through the windshield. It was Dwight Culbertson’s lucky day. He only suffered bumps and bruises, but his wife died.”

“Who was driving?” Virginia asked.

“Well, that’s where it gets tricky. Both the parents were well over the legal alcohol limit. One was deceased, and the other swore he hadn’t been behind the wheel. With no proof, the police couldn’t press charges, but they contacted us because of the insecure home environment.”

“What triggered their concern? Was the home rough?” Asking questions helped Gigi get a clearer view of the situation; at least, she hoped.

“No, not really. The house was okay, but Beth’s teacher contacted us. She had a few concerns but nothing concrete. Then, Mr. Culbertson lost his job for showing up at work drunk. We saw plenty of empty liquor bottles in the house and scattered around the tipped-over garbage cans and backyard. Downtown cut him some slack because he’d lost his wife. He left a foul taste in my mouth. I can’t say why. It was just one of those gut feelings, I guess.”

Bert and Gigi approached the dilapidated porch. The railing was missing, and the steps were splintered. Bert tested each step as she edged closer to the open door. Gigi watched but remained on the sidewalk.

Bert knocked. Not hearing a response, she leaned over the threshold and peered into the home but saw no one. She tapped again. The interior of the home was silent. Bert called out, “Mr. Culbertson, it’s Bert Atwell, your caseworker.” She listened for his response but heard nothing.

Squeezing between the flowering bushes, Virginia peered through the bay window, but the heavy drapes blocked her view. “Do you hear anything, Bert?” The branches scratched her arms, and a swarm of tiny gnats swirled around her head. Coughing and swatting the air, she retreated to the safety of the sidewalk.

“No.” She leaned into the doorway again, calling a little louder, “Mr. Culbertson, can you please come to the door? You missed your court appointment today. I must talk to you.”

When no one answered, Bert retraced her steps, joining Gigi on safer ground. Her gut told her something wasn’t right, but what? She walked to the side gate, expecting to be greeted by the Culbertson dog, Toby. It was hard to talk over his excessive barking on previous visits, but today the backyard was silent.

Amanda Stewart, the Culbertson’s next-door neighbor, relaxed in her antique rocking chair. The wooden rails squeaked against the porch floor. She sipped lemonade while cooling her sweaty brow with a colorful tropical hand-fan. Her eyes wandered toward Bert and Gigi, then darted off to gaze at her flower garden as she snuggled her tiny dog against her weathered cheek.

Bert walked to the boxed hedge that separated the properties and called out to Amanda, “Excuse me. Have you seen Mr. Culbertson today?”

The older woman pushed herself out of the chair, adjusted her rumpled housedress, and shuffled across to the porch railing. She glanced at the government car parked at the curb and then let her eyes do a quick assessment of the two women. Her facial expression registered distrust.

Bert offered a warm, friendly smile, hoping to break Amanda’s icy look. “We were wondering if you’d seen Mr. Culbertson. He doesn’t answer, and his door is standing open.”

A cold blank stare was Bert’s answer.

The woman’s rudeness shocked Gigi. She attempted to appear neighborly. “Cute dog. What’s his name?”

“Tiny don’t care for strangers.” Amanda snuggled his face. “It’s his dinner time.” She turned and opened the screen door. Before disappearing into the safety of her home, she looked at Bert and snapped, “I mind my business, and he minds his.” The door slammed behind her.

“So much for that.” Gigi shook her head in disbelief. “I know she’s gawking at us behind those curtains.”

“I’m sure she is.” Bert checked her watch. “Let’s stand in the shade. Dwight’s daughter, Beth should be home from school soon. It’s been a rough time for a sixteen-year-old. Maybe she can tell us what’s going on.”

“What’s the girl say?”

“There lies the problem. She doesn’t say much of anything. I tried to ask her about things, but she denies it. She’s still grieving the loss of her mother, so I didn’t push too hard. My concern level is still very high, though.” As she looked down the sidewalk, she spied Beth and a friend. “Matter of fact, there’s our girl now.”

**********

Rachel wrapped her arms around her torso and collapsed on the grass. Her breath was ragged as she sucked in the fresh air. Grabbing a bottle of water from her backpack, she swallowed several gulps, satisfying her dry mouth. Her brisk walk had taken a toll on her out-of-shape body. Her thoughts had been on Beth, and she hadn’t realized how briskly she’d been walking, nothing like the girls’ leisurely stroll, sharing the day’s gossip.

A small rock sailed past Rachel’s shoulder and landed on the sidewalk. Startled, Rachel jumped to her feet and looked around the vacant lot. She didn’t see anyone. Another rock whizzed past her and dropped in the grass. Someone was there.

Rachel’s cell phone rang, and she pulled it out of her pocket. Recognizing Beth’s picture, she answered, “Beth, where are you?”

“Over here by the shed,” Beth whispered. Rachel’s head twisted toward the back of the lot. A lonely hand waved above the tall weeds.

“Why are you whispering? Come out of there.” Rachel demanded into her phone, twisting her head toward the shed.

“No, that caseworker is at my house, and she’s got reinforcements with her.”

Rachel stepped into the tall weeds, grimacing at the swarm of bugs she’d disturbed. “Beth, what’s going on?” Impatient for answers, she swatted a few more bugs and moved closer to the shed. “Never mind, I’m coming to you.” She shoved her cell phone into her pocket. “There aren’t any snakes, are there?” Rachel shivered at the thought and carefully parted the weeds until she reached a small clearing by the shed. Terror ripped through her when she found her best friend.

“Oh my God, Beth.” Tears sprang into Rachel’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks as she swept Beth into her arms. Beth moaned at the contact, and Rachel let loose of her friend. “Did your dad…” Fear gripped Rachel’s throat. “Oh Beth, what happened?”

“I’ll fill you in later, but for now, I fell at the park playing with Toby.” Beth gave her friend a defiant look.

“No, Beth, you need to tell your caseworker the truth. She’ll help you.”

“Don’t be stupid, Rach. They’ll haul my dad off to jail, and I’ll end up in some group home.” Beth took a deep breath. “I’m sticking to my story unless you don’t care if I am gone.”

“Don’t say things like that. I went crazy today wondering why you weren’t in school. They can’t just take you away, can they?”

“Oh yes, they can, and they will. Officials don’t care about me. All government people just do their job and then forget about people.”

“I don’t know, Beth. I think people care.” Rachel shrugged her shoulders. “You just have to trust them,”

“No! I tripped over a tree root while playing with Toby at the park.” Beth took a deep breath. “You got it?”

Rachel nodded. “I got it!” She’d follow her friend’s lead, regardless of the truth.

“Let’s go get this over with.” Beth pulled Rachel toward the sidewalk. “Remember, I fell.”

The two girls rounded the corner and headed toward the Culbertson house. They waved as they approached Bert and Gigi.

Bert put her palm against Beth’s cheek. “This looks bad, Beth. What happened?” She examined Beth's arm without waiting for an answer, but the teenager flinched and pulled away.

“It’s nothing. Toby and I were playing in the park. I tripped on a huge tree root and fell. I don’t know who’s clumsier, him or me.” Beth shrugged her shoulders.

“Yeah, it was kind of funny. She sprawled face-first on the ground. Toby thought she was playing and started jumping on her.” A pink tinge crept across Rachel’s face. She wasn’t comfortable lying. “Beth, I better get home before my mother has a search party out looking for me.”

“Yeah, sure, call me later.”

Rachel waved goodbye and jogged down the street.

Roberta glanced toward the house, wondering about Toby. “Speaking of Toby, he didn’t greet me with his usual enthusiasm. Not one bark from the boy. Is he okay?”

Tears filled Beth’s eyes. Biting her lip, she wiped them away. “Dad gave him away. I came home from school to find him gone.”

“Gave him away? Why on earth would he do that? You loved Toby.” Bert was positive there was a deeper story hidden here.

“While we were waiting, Bert mentioned your dog. She said he wouldn’t leave your side when she visited.” Gigi’s smile lit up her face like rays of sunshine. “It’s nice to have a special relationship with our animals.”

The teenager nodded. “I guess, but Dad said we couldn’t afford to take care of him anymore since Mom died. Money is tight.” She scuffed her tennis shoe against the sidewalk. “I didn’t have time to take care of him, anyway.” On the verge of tears, Beth moved away from the women. “I need to get inside.”

“We noticed the door was open, but your dad didn’t answer when I knocked. Do you know if he’s home?”

Beth glanced at the open door and then back to her caseworker. “You were looking for my dad?” She looked toward the house again. “I’m pretty sure he had a job interview this afternoon. Must have been running late and forgot to shut the door.”

“A job interview? That’s great.” Bert wasn’t buying a single word Beth said. “What kind of job was it?”

“I’m not sure.” Beth kicked a stone off the sidewalk. “Listen, I’m sorry, but I need to get inside before my dad gets home.”

Without waiting for a reply, Beth sprinted toward the house and closed the door behind her.

Beth’s tensed shoulders relaxed as she exhaled a long sigh of relief. Peeking through the musty drapes, she couldn’t see any sign of the caseworkers or their vehicle.

Thank you, Jesus.

She was grateful she’d escaped their questions about her bruises and Toby.

Especially poor sweet Toby.

 

Her heart ached. Tears glistened in her eyes. She made her way to the kitchen window and stared out into the backyard. Amidst her mother’s flowers, her blurry eyes focused on the freshly dug dirt in the garden. Yesterday, she’d discovered Toby’s beaten body, discarded like trash amidst the thorny bushes. Overwhelmed with grief, she’d found a shovel in the shed and dug Toby a grave.

She'd wrapped Toby's body in an old flannel shirt and held her beloved friend against her chest, sobbing and telling him how much she loved him. Finally, she’d laid his body to rest, wishing she could join him. She knew she couldn’t mention Toby’s death for fear of being beaten, but she could never forgive him. Never!

Struggling with her pain, she hadn’t noticed her neighbor watching from her back porch. If she had, Beth would have seen Amanda dab the corner of her eyes with her apron. The crusty old lady had a caring heart for young people and dogs.

Hunger pangs gnawed at her empty stomach. Sighing, she moved away from the window, but her sadness followed. She missed her mom and now Toby, too. Rachel’s friendship was all she had left that mattered. 

Beth opened the refrigerator and groaned. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of curdled, sour milk. An open package of shriveled-up hotdogs, a half-empty Coke bottle, a few slices of bread, condiments, and a twelve-pack of beer was all she found. In the cabinet, an almost empty box of cereal remained. She poured it into a bowl, then realized there wasn’t any milk.

“Great! Dry cereal it is, I guess.” At least it wasn’t stale. A string of sugar ants marched across the counter. She brushed the uninvited visitors into the empty cereal box and tossed it in the trash. Collapsing into a chair, Beth nibbled on the tiny pieces of Fruit Loops, thankful it wasn’t corn flakes.

 **********

With her legs curled beneath her, she rested her head against the back of the recliner. Car magazines and stacks of unopened mail lay scattered across the coffee table. She’d been lucky that Bert and Gigi hadn’t pressed to come inside. She could only imagine what would have happened if they’d seen the remnants of Dwight’s daily drinking.

The stress-weary teenager closed her eyes. As she drifted into a restless sleep, her thoughts filled with memories of happy times with her mom. And then she saw the accident. Her mom was crashing through the car window. Crimson red blood spurted everywhere as her face bounced over and over on the asphalt pavement. She was moaning in agonizing pain. Beth jerked to a sitting position, screaming, “No!” She could feel her heart pounding against her chest as she gasped for air. Realizing she was in her front room and it had been a dream, she buried her face in her hands. Torrents of tears racked her body.

Another long and guttural moan echoed down the hallway. Beth’s heart sank. It hadn’t been her mom moaning. The groans were coming from the first-floor bedroom. She buried her head in the sofa pillows, praying she could block out the noise, but old habits are hard to break.

Dragging herself out of the recliner, she trudged down the hallway, avoiding empty beer bottles until she reached the bedroom door. Peering through the cracked opening, she tried to see if her dad was in bed.

The unkempt bed told her he was not. Her mother’s embroidered duvet hung from an oak footboard. More beer bottles and an empty pizza box littered the once-pristine white carpet. It was a familiar scene with a promised nightmare to follow.

She hesitated, afraid to enter, but knowing it was impossible to walk away. Dwight’s groaning stopped her as she turned, wanting to escape. Her neck cracked with the tension. A searing pain shot through her temples.

What if he’s hurt and in need of help?

She turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. Another loud groan accosted her. She stood in the doorway, frozen in fear.

Oh God, please tell me what to do. I don’t want to go in there. If I run, I’ll never forgive myself; yet, if I stay…

“Help me.” Her father’s voice sounded pathetic as he begged for help. She knew what she had to do. Moving from the doorway, she walked toward the master bathroom. She gasped when she saw him.

Her father was sprawled across the floor with an empty gin bottle at his side. Blood from the gash on his forehead ran down his forehead into his eyes. Moving to his side, she knelt and shook his arm.

“Dad, are you okay?”

His answer was a vulgar smelling belch as he lifted the empty gin bottle to his lips, licking the remaining drops as they trickled out. Beth grimaced at the foul odor.

“Dad, you’re drunk. You need to go to bed and sleep it off.” She raised his arm, tugging on it.

Anger flashed from his bloodshot eyes, and he shoved her. The violent force sent her crashing against the wall. She winced as pain shot through her head. “Dad, you’re drunk.”

He growled, “Shut your mouth.”

“Come on, Dad. I’ll help you.” She slipped his arm around her neck, inhaling the sharp pungent smell of cheap liquor. She fought back the urge to vomit. “Dad, you have to help me.”

His hands pawed at her chest, ripping the pocket on her shirt. Stunned, she let him drop to the floor. Shintoned over the sink, gagging. He was vulgar and abusive, but he’d never touched her that way. Her skin crawled at the thought. She couldn’t - no, wouldn’t - touch him again. Confused and mortified, she stepped out of the bathroom, putting much-needed space between her and the monster she once thought of as dad. Her heart was racing.

“I’ll go make some coffee.” She left him on the floor and fled to the kitchen, trying to escape the barrage of obscenities that followed her.

 

***********

 

As the coffee brewed, she searched for a can of tuna, mayonnaise, and a few slices of leftover bread. Her hands shook as she struggled with the can opener. She remembered how her mom would always tell her she needed to feed the angry beast. She hadn’t understood why until now. Maybe food would temper his sickening lust.

She cringed when she heard Dwight staggering down the hallway, banging against the walls, sending pictures crashing to the floor. A disgusting stench announced her father’s presence in the kitchen. Beth pulled out a chair, hoping he would prefer sitting to falling.

“I’ll make you something to eat. I found some tuna.”

“I don’t want to eat!” He slammed his fist against the tabletop, releasing another belch. “Get me another bottle of booze.”

“You’ve had enough.” She regretted the words the moment they crossed her lips.

The chair sailed across the room as he staggered to his feet, snarling at her. “No snot-nosed kid is going to tell Dwight Culbertson when he’s had enough.” He grabbed her arm, yanking her towards him. His blood-shot eyes made him look demonic.

Terrified, she screamed, “Stop it, Dad. You’re hurting me.” She tried to pull away, but his grip seemed to get tighter. “Mom was right. You’re just an ugly drunk.”

He swung his hand, slapping her face so hard, she flew backward, slamming into the stove. He lunged at her, but this time she sidestepped him. Her hand touched her burning cheek.

“What? You gonna beat me like you did, Toby?” Hurt and anger bubbled inside her. She sneered at him, hating the sight of her father. “You gonna kill me like you did, Mom?”  

She was relieved the kitchen table separated her from the menacing devil. His temples pulsed against his molten red face. Immediately, Beth knew she’d said too much. As he yanked off his belt, he snarled, “Time I show you who’s boss, bitch.” The leather strap ripped the fabric of her shirt, cutting her skin with every snap. Falling to the floor, she winced in agony as he beat her until he was satisfied.

Frozen in terror, Beth didn’t move. He sat at the table, eating the tuna sandwich, apparently unaware of what had taken place. Finally, he staggered down the hallway, yelling, “Bring me a beer.”

When she heard his obnoxious snoring, she gradually pushed herself to a sitting position. Her breathing was jagged as she forced air into her lungs. Every inch of her body was screaming from the deep cuts across her back. Her shirt was shredded and covered with red stains. 

Holding onto the countertops, she shuffled to the back door. It took every ounce of strength she could muster to pull a flannel shirt from the hook. She stumbled down the porch steps, across the yard, whispering goodbye to Toby, and then out the gate.

“I’m never coming back!” As the tears tumbled down her cheeks, Beth walked into the dark, looking for a brighter future and praying she was leaving the evil darkness behind her.

Chapter 3
On The Edge of Deception - Rev 3

By Begin Again

In the distance, the night sky was aglow with the bright city lights. Except for the intermittent barking of the neighborhood dogs, the streets were dark and silent. 

Listening to the river’s rhythmic sounds slapping against the rocky shoreline was one of Beth’s favorite pastimes. During the day, she loved watching people, especially the young children playing on the merry-go-round, laughing, and having fun while their mothers passed the time, sharing bits of gossip or news. The park was a safe haven.

Tonight, it was different. Crouched between the giant boulders and several forsythia bushes, Beth yearned for her warm bed and soft pillow. She wasn’t afraid of the dark, but she feared what was in it. Nothing was comforting, not even the smell of the budding yellow blossoms surrounding her. 

The fresh open wounds on her back burned like hot coals. The guttural howling of two cats caused a riot of chills to race down her spine. She flinched, sending piercing needles of pain into every nerve - proving the adage of cause and effect or the domino theory.

The tall pines and majestic oak branches cast threatening shadows across the moonlit path. She closed her eyes tightly, praying for them to disappear. Adrenalin had given her the strength to escape, but, alone in the dark, it had quickly dissipated. She was a sixteen-year-old girl with nowhere to go. Hungry, hurting, homeless and afraid - not a good start for her new life.

Thankful she’d remembered the flannel shirt, she cautiously slipped it on, pulled her knees to her chest, and hugged her legs. For one fleeting moment, she felt defiant and brave, but then the floodgates opened, unleashing a waterfall of salty tears. She buried her face in her arms and sobbed. 

**********

Nancy, a bartender at Dwight’s favorite watering hole, had been enjoying his company for about a year, long before he became a widower. Armed with a champagne bottle and a twelve-pack, Dwight would arrive at Nancy’s door every Wednesday and Sunday. She was a pro at lavishing her attention on him; he, in return, smothered her with trinkets and kinky sex. Dwight believed she was his forever, but Nancy had far greater plans than he could ever understand. For now, he was a fun boy-toy, nothing more.

Hours after the incident with Beth, Dwight awoke with a throbbing headache. He stumbled to the bathroom, inhaled the putrid stench of liquor and beer, and unceremoniously vomited the brown-yellow bile everywhere but inside the porcelain bowl.

Using the walls as support, he shuffled through the littered hallway into the kitchen. Blinking his eyes several times, he tried to focus on the disarray. One of the yellow-padded chairs was upside down, tossed across the room. Bits and pieces of the mayo jar and its yellowish-white contents were smeared like fingerpaint on the brown kitchen tiles. The telltale leather belt hung from a chair. Dwight gasped as fear put a stranglehold on his parched throat. 

“What the hell happened?” He could only recall snippets, but it was enough to know it was bad. He needed help, big-time help, and he needed it fast. He grabbed the phone and called Nancy.

She answered on the first ring, hoping it was Dwight. “Hello.”

“Sweet Cakes, I need you.” His throat was dry, making it difficult to talk. 

“Oh, Baby, I need you too.” She knew what to say to get the pot boiling with her man.

A half pot of leftover Colombian coffee sat on the counter. The cups sat like waiting soldiers on the shelf above. His trembling fingers gripped the mug’s handle as he poured the cold brew, sloshing more on the counter than in the cup. 

Expecting Dwight to respond with an offer she wouldn’t refuse, Nancy scowled at the phone. “Dwight, honey, is everything alright?”

 Gulping down the cold black brew, he tried again. “Nancy, I’m in big trouble. I need your help.”

The sound of his voice set alarms off in her head. “I’ll be right there. Whatever it is, Nancy’s gonna fix it for you, sugar.” She hung up the phone, grabbed her sweater, and rushed out the back door, mumbling to the world, “Don’t you worry. Nancy can fix anything.”

**********

“Dwight, honey, let me pour you another cup of coffee. No need to be frettin’ because Nancy’s going to make it all go away.” She filled his cup with hot, black coffee, nuzzling his neck and pressing her oversized boobs against his body.

“But Sweet Cakes -” She handed him three aspirins and a glass of water, giving him a stony stare. Dwight closed his mouth and stared into his coffee cup.

“Now, you listen to me. We’ve got to call the police, maybe even the press.” She moved around the kitchen, picking up chairs, returning them to their rightful spots. “First, we’re going to get rid of the evidence. Put all those empty bottles in a trash bag.” Opening the cabinet door, she peered under the sink. Spying an orange and black box of garbage bags, she yanked one out and tossed it on the table. “I’ll call my cousin Leroy to come by and get them.” She stopped for a minute, tapping her pointer finger against her ruby red lips. “Let me think. Can’t have anyone seeing him.” She paused in thought. “He can come in the alley on foot. It’s dark. Besides, no one sees anything in this neighborhood.” Standing behind Dwight’s chair, she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. Her voice softened. “You take a shower and get ready. I’ve got this under control.”

“But police? That caseworker, Atwell, already dislikes me, and I did nothing to her.” He shook his head, “We can’t call the police.”

“Yes, we can, and we will. It would help if you had an alibi for this afternoon.” She thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers. “Got it! You say that you were at my house fixing the gate. Leroy did it yesterday, but they won’t know that.”

“That still doesn’t prove I didn’t beat the hell out of the brat.” Dwight paced the floor. He’d gone too far this time. 

“Get a hold of yourself. Do you hear me?” Nancy tugged on his arm, pushing him back into the kitchen chair. “Drink the coffee.” She moved the cup closer to him. 

Grabbing a dishcloth, she started wiping the counters as she continued explaining the plan, “You’re going to say you went home to clean up while I fixed us a dinner to bring to your place.” She stopped a moment and leaned over to kiss the gash in Dwight’s forehead, gently brushing a few stray hairs away from the wound. “Here’s where it gets good, so listen. When the police question you about what happened, say that she went crazy when you told her I was coming over, only six months after losing her mom. You went to the bedroom, and she clocked you with a vase. You fell, hitting your head on the tub, and were unconscious. I found you when I arrived for dinner. After that, we can say she hasn’t returned home, and we are worried about her safety.” The wheels were spinning inside Nancy’s head. “Maybe, say this isn’t the first time she’s run away. Yeah, say she sneaks out of the house late at night.”

“But what if she talks? If they find her and see the marks -”

“She will not talk, sugar. She said nothing when they asked about the accident, did she? She’s not going to say anything now. As for the marks, we do not know where or when she got them. Maybe her john got a little overzealous.”

“I don’t know. Why don’t we leave it alone? She’ll come back on her own. She has nowhere to go.” Dwight returned to his pacing. “I need a drink.”

“Absolutely not! If they think you were drinking, they’re going to dig that much deeper. Look like the concerned father who’s overwhelmed with grief for his dead wife and your missing daughter. Do you understand?”

“It’s still my word against hers, and my track record isn’t the best.” He dropped his head and watched an ant disappear under the stove. 

“Not to worry. Being a bartender has its benefits. I’ve picked up little bits of interesting information here and there. A few of your neighbors owe me a favor or two. By the time they’re done praising you, honey, you can run for mayor. Beth is about to become quite the naughty girl with the boys around town.”

“Whoa! Is it necessary to go that far?” Dwight buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know, Nancy.”

“It’s you or her? What’s it going to be?” Nancy kissed the top of his head. “She’s young; she’ll get past this. It’s nothing. You, on the other hand, will wear orange jumpers for a long time.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Call Leroy and get the ball rolling before I change my mind.” 

**********

“Okay, let’s call it quits for the night.” Ethan stretched and yawned. “I’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“Squawk! Squawk! Squawk!” Tyson flapped his arms, imitating a chicken as he circled his friend. “Afraid you’ll lose again?” 

Ethan laughed, tossing the basketball to Tyson. “I didn’t lose. If memory serves me, you fouled out. That makes you the loser.” 

“Whatever!” Tyson walked over to the bench and gathered his gear. “You still owe me a beer.”

“Fine! I’ve got some cold ones in my frig. Let’s go slam down a few.” 

As the young men continued to exchange banter with each other, they left the basketball court and headed across the park, tossing the ball back and forth between them. Tyson dribbled down the path, spun around, and launched the ball in Ethan’s direction. It sailed over his head and rolled toward the river.

“Way to go, Knucklehead.” Ethan jogged after the ball. “If it ends up in the river, you’re going in after it.”

“Not me. I can’t swim.” Tyson laughed. “You’re the jock, remember?”

Exhausted, Beth had slipped into a tumultuous slumber. Visions of the leather belt snapping against her skin played continuously through her subconscious. Her arms jerked violently, flailing against the forsythia branches. The day’s nightmare consumed her, so she was unaware of Ethan and Tyson’s antics as they approached.

The errant basketball smashed against her sleeping figure. Startled, Beth jolted upright, screaming in terror and excruciating pain. Fearing an animal attack, she bolted from her hiding place, disoriented and out of control, crashing into Ethan before slipping into unconsciousness.

Ethan’s arms shot forward, catching Beth’s disheveled body. Stunned, he lowered her to the ground, kneeling on the grass at her side. Tyson dropped his gear and rushed to join his friend.

“Is she dead?” Leaning down, Tyson peered at the teenage girl and then backed up a few steps.

“No. She screamed, didn’t she?” Ethan put his ear close to Beth’s mouth. “She’s breathing. I think she must have fainted.” Ethan shook his head. “Maybe we should call for help.”

“Man, leave her. She’s just a bum sleeping in the park.” Tyson retrieved the basketball from the bushes. “Come on, Eth, before someone else shows up. Her blood-curdling screams probably alerted the entire neighborhood.”

“Really, you want to leave her?” Ethan tossed a disgusted look at his friend. “What’s wrong with you, man? She’s hurt. She needs help.”

“Listen, she’s not our problem. Who knows what she’ll do when she wakes up?” Tyson pursed his lips and stared out at the river in deep thought. “These women say and do anything, you know. I’m not willing to jeopardize my scholarship for some bum.”

“These women? Wow, brother, I don’t know where you’re coming from right now, but you certainly aren’t thinking straight.” 

“Me? I didn’t sign up to be no hero, especially for a street bum. I’d be careful cuz there’s no telling what wrong with her. Probably high on something.”

A low growl escaped Beth’s lips. At the sound, Ethan’s head snapped back to the girl lying on the ground. “I can’t just walk away.”

“Well, I can! I’m out of here, bro.” Tyson grabbed his gear. “Sorry, but it’s just the way it's gotta be.” Hesitating for a sliver of a moment, he turned and jogged across the park, leaving his best friend kneeling over Beth’s body.

Author Notes

Dwight Culbertson - a violent drunk and father Nancy - a bartender and Dwight's girlfriend behind the scenes Beth - the sixteen yr old daughter of Dwight Culbertson Rachel - Beth's best friend and confidant Roberta Atwell (Bert) - the caseworker assigned to the family Virginia Newman (Gigi) - new on the job, Bert's coworker Leroy - Nancy's cousin Ethan - upstanding, good-hearted basketball star Tyson - Ethan's best friend and basketball jock, who believes in self-survival There have been a few name adjustments since it's a work in progress. I apologize for any confusion. Smiles!

Chapter 4
On The Edge of Deception - Rev 4

By Begin Again

In the distance, the night sky was aglow with the bright city lights. Except for the intermittent barking of the neighborhood dogs, the streets were dark and silent. 

Listening to the river’s rhythmic sounds slapping against the rocky shoreline was one of Beth’s favorite pastimes. During the day, she loved watching people, especially the young children playing on the merry-go-round, laughing and having fun while their mothers passed the time, sharing bits of gossip or news. The park was a safe haven.

Tonight, it was different. Crouched between the giant boulders and several forsythia bushes, Beth yearned for her warm bed and soft pillow. She wasn’t afraid of the dark, but she feared what was in it. Nothing was comforting, not even the smell of the budding yellow blossoms surrounding her.  

The fresh open wounds on her back burned like hot coals. The guttural howling of two cats caused a riot of chills to race down her spine. She flinched, sending piercing needles of pain into every nerve - proving the adage of cause and effect or the domino theory.

The tall pines and majestic oak branches cast threatening shadows across the moonlit path. She closed her eyes, praying for them to disappear. Adrenalin had given her the strength to escape, but, alone in the dark, it had dissipated. She was a sixteen-year-old girl with nowhere to go. Hungry, hurting, homeless and afraid - not a good start for her new life.

Thankful she’d remembered the flannel shirt, she slipped it on, pulled her knees to her chest, and hugged her legs. For one fleeting moment, she felt defiant and brave, but then the floodgates opened, unleashing a waterfall of salty tears. She buried her face in her arms and sobbed. 

**********

Nancy, a bartender at Dwight’s favorite watering hole, had been enjoying his company for about a year, long before he became a widower. Armed with a champagne bottle and a twelve-pack, Dwight would arrive at Nancy’s door every Wednesday and Sunday. She was a pro at lavishing her attention on him; he, in return, smothered her with trinkets and kinky sex. Dwight thought she was his forever, but Nancy had far greater plans than he could ever understand. For now, he was a fun boy-toy, nothing more.

Hours after the incident with Beth, Dwight awoke with a throbbing headache. He stumbled to the bathroom, inhaled the putrid stench of liquor and beer, and vomited the brown-yellow puke everywhere but inside the porcelain bowl.

Using the walls as support, he shuffled through the littered hallway into the kitchen. Blinking his eyes several times, he tried to focus on the disarray. One of the yellow-padded chairs was upside down, tossed across the room. Bits and pieces of the mayo jar and its yellowish-white contents were smeared like fingerpaint on the brown kitchen tiles. The telltale leather belt hung from a chair. Dwight gasped as fear put a stranglehold on his parched throat. 

“What the hell happened?” Dwight could only recall snippets, but it was enough to know it was bad. He needed help, big-time help, and he needed it fast. He grabbed the phone and called Nancy.

She answered the phone on the first ring, hoping it was Dwight. “Hello.”

“Sweet Cakes, I need you.” His throat was dry, making it difficult to talk. 

“Oh, Baby, I need you too.” She knew what to say to get the pot boiling with her man.

A half pot of leftover Colombian coffee sat on the counter. The cups sat like waiting soldiers on the shelf above. His trembling fingers gripped the mug’s handle as he poured the cold brew, sloshing more on the counter than in the cup. 

Expecting Dwight to respond with an offer she wouldn’t refuse, Nancy scowled at the phone. “Dwight, honey, is everything alright?”

 Gulping down the cold black brew, he tried again. “Nancy, I’m in big trouble. I need your help.”

The sound of his voice set alarms off in her head. “I’ll be right there. Whatever it is, Nancy’s gonna fix it for you, sugar.” She hung up the phone, grabbed her sweater, and rushed out the back door, mumbling to the world, “Don’t you worry. Nancy can fix anything.”

**********

“Dwight, honey, let me pour you another cup of coffee. No need to be frettin’ because Nancy’s goin’ make it all go away.” She filled his cup with hot, black coffee, nuzzling his neck and pressing her oversized boobs against his body.

“But, Sweet Cakes -” She handed him three aspirins and a glass of water, giving him a stony stare. Dwight closed his mouth and stared into his coffee cup.

“Now, you listen to me. We’ve got to call the police, maybe even the press.” She moved around the kitchen, picking up chairs, returning them to their rightful spots. “First, we’re going to get rid of the evidence. Put all those empty bottles in a trash bag.” Opening the cabinet door, she peered under the sink. Spying an orange and black box of garbage bags, she yanked one out and tossed it on the table. “I’ll call my cousin Leroy to come by and get them.” She stopped for a minute, tapping her pointer finger against her ruby red lips. “Let me think. Can’t have anyone seeing him.” She paused in thought. “He can come in the alley on foot. It’s dark. Besides, no one sees anything in this neighborhood.” Standing behind Dwight’s chair, she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. Her voice softened. “You take a shower and get ready. I’ve got this under control.”

“But police? That caseworker, Atwell, already dislikes me, and I did nothing to her.” He shook his head, “We can’t call the police.”

“Yes, we can, and we will. It would help if you had an alibi for this afternoon.” She thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers. “Got it! You say that you were at my house fixing the gate. Leroy did it yesterday, but they won’t know that.”

“That still doesn’t prove I didn’t beat the hell out of the brat.” Dwight paced the floor. He’d gone too far this time. 

“Get a hold of yourself. Do you hear me?” Nancy tugged on his arm, pushing him back into the kitchen chair. “Drink the coffee.” She moved the cup closer to him. 

Grabbing a dishcloth, Nancy started wiping the counters as she continued explaining the plan. “You’re going to say you went home to clean up while I fixed us a dinner to bring to your place.” She stopped a moment and leaned over to kiss the gash in Dwight’s forehead, brushing a few stray hairs away from the wound. “Here’s where it gets good, so listen. When the police question you about what happened, say that she went crazy when you told her I was coming over, only six months after losing her mom. You went to the bedroom, and she clocked you with a vase. You fell, hitting your head on the tub, and were unconscious. I found you when I arrived for dinner. After that, we can say Beth hasn’t returned home, and we are worried about her safety.” The wheels were spinning inside Nancy’s head. “Maybe, say this isn’t the first time she’s run away. Yeah, say Beth sneaks out of the house late at night.”

“But what if she talks? If they find her and see the marks -”

“She will not talk, sugar. She said nothing when they asked about the accident, did she? She’s not going to say anything now. As for the marks, we do not know where or when she got them. Maybe her john got a little overzealous.”

“I don’t know. Why don’t we leave it alone? She’ll come back on her own. She has nowhere to go.” Dwight returned to his pacing. “I need a drink.”

“Absolutely not! If they think you were drinking, they’re going to dig that much deeper. Look like the concerned father who’s overwhelmed with grief for his dead wife and your missing daughter. Do you understand?”

“It’s still my word against hers, and my track record isn’t the best.” He dropped his head and watched an ant disappear under the stove. 

“Not to worry. Being a bartender has its benefits. I’ve picked up little bits of interesting information here and there. A few of your neighbors owe me a favor or two. By the time they’re done praising you, honey, you can run for mayor. Beth is about to become quite the naughty girl with the boys around town.”

“Whoa! Is it necessary to go that far?” Dwight buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know, Nancy.”

“It’s you or her? What’s it going to be?” Nancy kissed the top of his head. “She’s young; she’ll get past this. It’s nothing. You, on the other hand, will wear orange jumpers for a long time.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” 

**********

“Okay, let’s call it quits for the night.” Ethan stretched and yawned. “I’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“Squawk! Squawk! Squawk!” Tyson flapped his arms, imitating a chicken as he circled his friend. “Afraid you’ll lose again?” 

Ethan laughed, tossing the basketball to Tyson. “I didn’t lose. If memory serves me, you fouled out. That makes you the loser.” 

“Whatever!” Tyson walked over to the bench and gathered his gear. “You still owe me a beer.”

“Fine! I’ve got some cold ones in my frig. Let’s go slam down a few.” 

As the young men continued to exchange banter with each other, they left the basketball court and headed across the park, tossing the ball back and forth between them. Tyson dribbled down the path, spun around, and launched the ball in Ethan’s direction. It sailed over his head and rolled toward the river.

“Way to go, Knucklehead.” Ethan jogged after the ball. “If it ends up in the river, you’re going in after it.”

“Not me. I can’t swim.” Tyson laughed. “You’re the jock, remember?”

Exhausted, Beth had slipped into a tumultuous slumber. Visions of the leather belt snapping against her skin played through her subconscious. Her arms jerked violently, flailing against the forsythia branches. The day’s nightmare consumed her, so she was unaware of Ethan and Tyson’s antics as they approached.

The errant basketball smashed against her sleeping figure. Startled, Beth jolted upright, screaming in terror and excruciating pain. Fearing an animal attack, she bolted from her hiding place, disoriented and out of control, crashing into Ethan before slipping into unconsciousness.

Ethan’s arms shot forward, catching Beth’s disheveled body. Stunned, he lowered her to the ground, kneeling on the grass at her side. Tyson dropped his gear and rushed to join his friend.

“Is she dead?” Leaning down, Tyson peered at the teenage girl and then took a few steps away.

Putting his ear close to Beth’s mouth, Ethan listened. “No, she’s breathing. Maybe we should call for help.”

“Man, leave her. She’s just a bum sleeping in the park.” Tyson retrieved the basketball from the bushes. “Come on, Eth, before someone else shows up. Her blood-curdling screams probably alerted the entire neighborhood.”

“Really, you want to leave her?” Ethan tossed a disgusted look at his friend. “She’s hurt. She needs help.”

“Listen, she’s not our problem. Who knows what she’ll do when she wakes up.” Tyson pursed his lips and stared out at the river in deep thought. “These women say and do anything, you know. I’m not willing to jeopardize my scholarship for some bum.”

“These women? Wow, brother, I don’t know where you’re coming from right now, but you aren’t thinking straight.” 

“Me? I didn’t sign up to be a hero, especially for a street bum. I’d be careful, cuz there’s no telling what wrong with her. Probably high on something.”

A low growl escaped Beth’s lips. At the sound, Ethan’s head snapped back to the girl lying on the ground. “I can’t just walk away.”

“Well, I can! I’m out of here, bro.” Tyson grabbed his gear. “Sorry, but it’s just the way it's gotta be.” Hesitating for a sliver of a moment, he turned and jogged across the park, leaving his best friend behind.

Author Notes

Dwight Culbertson - a violent drunk and father Nancy - a bartender and Dwights behind the scenes girlfriend Beth - the sixteen yr old daughter of Dwight Culbertson Rachel - Bet's best friend and confidant Roberta Atwell (Bert) - the caseworker assigned to the family Virginia Newman (Gigi) - new on the job, Bert's coworker Leroy - Nancy's cousin Ethan - upstanding, good-hearted basketball star Tyson - Ethan's best friend and basketball jock, who believes in self-survival

Chapter 5
On the Edge of Deception - Rev 5

By Begin Again

According to the Winnebago County Sheriff Department, the press conference would begin at 9 A.M. on the Culbertson home’s front lawn. At 8:26, after circling the area numerous times, Bert found a parking spot three blocks away. She maneuvered the vehicle between a black SUV and a utility truck with only inches to spare. Gigi held her breath and covered her eyes until Bert shut off the engine.

“You’ve got some magical powers, girlfriend.” Gigi peered out the car windows, amazed.

“What? Ye of little faith.” Bert laughed and gave a soft shove to her partner’s shoulder. “You didn’t think I could do it?”

“Heck, I’m not sure my mom’s old VW would fit in here.” She opened her door and stepped to the curb. Shaking her head, she shrugged, “Wow!”

Bert locked the car and walked around to join Gigi. “Nonsense!” She laughed at her co-worker before adding, “We better get stepping. I want to nose around before the press conference gets started. By the way, did you hear anything more from Ric?”

“No, he said O’Shea and the Sheriff were in the Chief’s office almost all night. People were coming and going, but no one was talking outside the office. Ric seems to think they’re going to press charges.”

“Well, I guess we’ll know soon enough what’s going on.” The two women hurried down the sidewalk, dodging discarded bikes, broken Tonka trucks, and other miscellaneous toys. Police placed barricades at each end of the block, allowing the news media trucks, police cars, and reporters parking access since the street was narrow.

“Looks like a block party instead of a press conference.” Bert surveyed the area. “Must be a hundred people here, and that’s not counting police officers.”

“Crazy! And we couldn’t get anyone to talk to us.” Gigi shook her head. “Guess they’re all looking to get their five minutes of fame.”

“Something’s going on, but I’m not sure what it is.” Bert nibbled on the inside of her cheek. “Let’s mill around. We’ll split up and see if we can pick up on anything.” 

The women separated, listening and mingling among the people.

**********

“May I have everyone’s attention, please?” A well-known and respected officer, Sergeant Triston Hall, approached the podium. The crisp, freshly pressed, and starched dress-shirt showed today’s press conference’s mood - strictly business. On an average day, if you were looking for Triston, the first spot to check would be the break room, eating a chocolate glazed long john and black coffee, no cream, and three sugars. After her morning fix, she would be at the front desk, a powerhouse with an attitude. If asked to describe her, the first word would be tough, a hard-ass except where kids are involved. Triston had a big heart for all of them. After Beth’s mother’s death, Triston had several opportunities to have a conversation with the teenager, and in typical Triston fashion, she liked the girl. Her heart rejected the department’s current decision, but her head forced her to follow the rules.

Checking her watch, she surveyed the crowd before tapping the microphone with her pen. “Quiet, please.” 

Not getting the response she expected, Triston switched to her “get it done” voice and announced, “Coffee klatch is over, folks. Let’s get to work!”

As the roar settled into a low buzzing hum, she leaned into the podium, adjusted the microphone, and spoke, “On behalf of RPD, the Sheriff’s Department, and Mr. Culbertson, we would like to thank all the volunteers and law enforcement officers that took part in the area search last night. Unfortunately, sixteen-year-old Beth Culbertson is still at large. When dealing with juveniles, our first concern should be to find her and bring her home.”

One reporter yelled across the crowd. “Is she listed as a runaway?” 

Encouraged, another jumped on the bandwagon and asked, “Is she wanted for questioning, or are charges pending against her?” 

A WREX reporter standing near the front of the crowd threw in his gauntlet and added, “Is the recent death of her mother involved in any way?” He received an icy stare from Triston. 

As the barrage of questions continued, Triston stepped away from the podium, sat down, and crossed her arms against her chest, waiting for silence.

Satisfied, Triston approached the podium for the second time and tapped on the microphone. “We ask that you refrain from any questioning at this time. First, Sheriff Trainor will speak to you, followed by Rockford Police Chief Pat O’Shea. Also, Mr. Culbertson would like to make a brief statement. Thank you.” She turned and nodded at the Sheriff, remarking, “I’ll turn the podium over to you, sir.”

It had been an exceptionally long night. Sheriff Trainor didn’t like press conferences, especially ones involving kids. His first impression of Mr. Culbertson hadn’t been a good one. After this morning, it had deteriorated. 

Sheriff Trainor approached the podium, acknowledging with a nod several familiar faces. He took his prepared speech from his pocket, unfolded it, and moved to the microphone. Clearing his throat, he read, “At 6:34 pm last night, the Department Dispatcher received a call requesting assistance at 1543 Peyton Street, the Culbertson’s residence. “

A helicopter hovered over the group. Annoyed, the sheriff looked up, waited for it to move off, then continued. “Two squads were in the area, and both units arrived at said location ten minutes after the call to the dispatcher. A witness, identified as Nancy Galgato, reported she came to the home, found Mr. Culbertson unconscious and bleeding from an open wound to his head. My report shows he received medical attention from his private physician.” 

The sheriff drank some water. Sensing an opening, several reporters began bombarding him with questions he did not plan to answer.

Raising his hand, he waited for the voices to come to a low rumble before he continued reading the prepared speech. “The report indicates Beth Culbertson left the home of her own volition, and she was unharmed. Our concern is for her safety. Last night, my department joined forces with the Rockford police and initiated a door-to-door search, seeking information concerning the missing teenager and the assault against her father. We are asking Ms. Culbertson to contact her family or law enforcement. Now, I’ll turn the mic over to Chief Pat O’Shea.” The two men avoided looking at each other.

“Thank you, Sheriff Trainor.” Chief O’Shea nodded in his direction, acknowledging his assistance in the investigation. “The Rockford Police Department, including myself, want to thank Sheriff Trainor and all his staff for their quick response and assistance last night. Because their dispatcher received the initial call, they responded and then notified our department since it’s within city limits.”

A uniformed officer stepped over to the sheriff and whispered into his ear. The sheriff’s eyes shot toward the chief before he followed the officer away from the staging area.

Chief O’Shea continued to address the reporters. “Our initial contact indicated the assault on Mr. Culbertson derived from an intense argument between him and his daughter. Ms. Culbertson died in a horrific automobile accident six months ago, and the household has been under extreme tension. The victim stated he walked away, and his daughter bashed him from behind. Mr. Culbertson told the officers cash was missing from the residence, and he assumed his daughter had taken it.

“However, during a late-night interview with Ms. Galgato, she admitted the reason she had come to the Culbertson home. Earlier, she’d left a bank deposit bag from Captain Jack’s Bar. It contained the receipts and cash from the previous night. It was also missing from the residence. Both Galgato and Culbertson admitted they withheld the information to protect the daughter.”

O’Shea loved grandstanding. This morning’s press conference was feeding his ego, big time. He paused, cleared his throat, and continued, “Considering this recent evidence, charges of aggravated assault and grand theft are pending. We hope if Beth Culbertson is listening to this press conference, she will contact our offices. Thank you for your time.” He smiled for the cameras and then left the area, not responding to the flurry of questions following him.

Sergeant Triston Hall spoke into the microphone, “Excuse me, but Mr. Culbertson would like to say a few words.”

The uniformed officers made an opening, and a nurse dressed in a pale blue uniform pushed Dwight Culbertson in a wheelchair, front and center. Like angry bees, a loud buzz rose from the crowd. A large turban of white gauze bandaged his head. He appeared to struggle for air. The unsuspecting reporters went wild. Their cameras flashed like fireflies at night. In the background, Nancy Galgato suppressed her pleasure; she’d gotten the exact reaction she’d wanted.

Gigi gasped, but Bert’s reaction was far different. Her gut told her Beth wouldn’t have assaulted her father unless it was in self-defense. She glared at Dwight with a vengeance. “Gigi, I don’t know what happened, but it’s not the picture they’re painting. Beth didn’t do this!” 

Gigi frowned and shook her head. “I don’t know, Bert. He looks awful.”

“He’s going to look worse when I get done investigating him.” Bert was furious, and the gears were shifting into high. “I can’t do this alone, Gigi, but it’s not what you expected for your first week on the job.”

“Shut up! We’re in this together.” Gigi was determined to stand by her new friend, but she couldn’t help but be a little nervous. She’d expected nothing like this when she accepted the job.

PRESS CONFERENCE TO BE CONTINUED........

Author Notes

Dwight Culbertson - a violent drunk and father Nancy Galgato- a bartender and Dwights behind the scenes girlfriend Beth - the sixteen yr old daughter of Dwight Culbertson Rachel - Beth's best friend and confidant Roberta Atwell (Bert) - the caseworker assigned to the family Virginia Newman (Gigi) - new on the job, Bert's coworker Leroy - Nancy's cousin Ethan - upstanding, good-hearted basketball star Tyson - Ethan's best friend and basketball jock, who believes in self-survival Ric Santiago - RPD Detective Sergeant Triston Hall - female desk sergeant Sheriff Trainor - Winnebago County Sheriff Department Police Chief Pat O'Shea - Rockford Police Department Nathan Rotello - owner and CEO of Rotello Trucking

Chapter 6
On the Edge of Deception - Rev 6

By Begin Again

Burying his face in his hands, Dwight appeared to be overwhelmed by the flashing cameras and reporters. He wiped his eyes, coughed, then faced the cameras with a sorrowful puppy-dog look. It was a perfect stage production for everyone’s benefit, and the television stations loved it.

Finally, he opened his mouth to speak, choking back sobs, “I… I want to be - beg my daugh- daughter to come home.” He dropped his chin to his chest. The nurse handed him a Kleenex. He wiped his eyes. Once again, he looked directly at the camera and gulped for air. “Beth, your moth - mother wouldn’t want - this. I - I forgive you.” Dwight lost control and began sobbing.

His nurse moved the wheelchair farther away from the podium, allowing an unidentified man to approach. Nathan Rotello was a cowgirl’s dream; tall, lean yet muscular, bronze sun-kissed skin and eyes of ocean blue. His white cowboy hat was whipping cream on a tempting piece of dessert. All eyes focused on the stranger. They were beyond curious about what he had to say or do with the situation.

“My name is Nathan Rotello, owner, operator, and CEO of Rotello Trucking. Unfortunately, one of my trucks was involved in a deadly crash six months ago. Through no fault of our company, Mrs. Culbertson was thrown from the driver’s seat of her vehicle and pronounced dead at the scene. This family has endured far too much pain, so on behalf of Dwight Culbertson and Rotello Trucking, I would like to offer a $5000 reward for information on Beth Culbertson’s whereabouts and bringing her to justice.”

Lights, camera, action - an arbitrary script, but the scene was a perfect wrap. Nathan Rotello’s name and his face would be the talk of the town by sundown. As he knelt next to the wheelchair and hugged Dwight Culbertson, Nancy smothered the squeal demanding to explode inside her. She could not have choreographed a better ending to the press conference if she tried. The best part was, Nathan Rotello had done it all by himself, with no suggestions from her.

Sergeant Hall stepped to the mic, thanked everyone, and said there would not be a question-and-answer period. As the moans and groans echoed behind her back, she walked away.

**********

“Wow, Bert, it sure looks like all the cards are stacked against your girl.” Gigi wrinkled her nose. “You sure you’re betting on the right horse? How well do you know her?”

“Well enough, Gigi. Besides, from the beginning, I haven’t trusted Culbertson. I believe there’s more to that accident, and Beth knows what it is.”

Ric joined the ladies, wrapping his arm around Gigi’s shoulder. “Now that’s a press conference. What’d you think, Bert?”

“She thinks you better get your arm off my shoulder. People will see!” Gigi lifted his arm and dropped it.

“Girl, it’s the twenty-first century.” Ric rolled his eyes and laughed at her.

“Exactly! That’s how all those sexual harassment cases get started.”

Bert shook her head, laughing. “You two are something else. As for the press conference, something’s not adding up. Can’t put my finger on it, but give me time, and I will.”

“Yeah, Hank and I were discussing the same thing.”

“Hank? Hank who?” Bert knew who she wanted it to be, but he was retired and enjoying the good life in Gulf Shores, Alabama. Hank Armato and his wife, Emmy, were two of the best detectives she had ever had the privilege to work alongside. She’d heard he’d helped solve his one-and-only cold case after retirement.

“Hank - Hank Armato. He brought me some of his old case files this morning. I told him I had this press conference to cover, and he asked if he could tag along. I was happy to spend some time with the old fart.”

“So, Hank is here?” Bert perused the thinning crowd. Like Nathan Rotello, Hank was another man you couldn’t overlook. “Are you kidding me, Ric? Cuz I don’t see him.”

“No, he was just here. He couldn’t have gone far.” Ric scanned the area and saw his friend coming from the Culbertson backyard. “There he is, Bert. On the hot trail of another clue.”

Hank joined them, giving Bert a big bear hug. “Man, I haven’t seen you in ages. I think it was that Pirelli case we worked on, wasn’t it?”

“Great memory for a retired, old man.” Bert’s eyes sparkled as she teased her friend.

“Retired? You are behind times, Bert. Ole Hank couldn’t take sitting on the beach, drinking Mai Tais with Emmy, so she started writing her memoirs, and he got his PI license.”

“You’re joking with me, right?” Bert couldn’t believe her good fortune.

“Nope. Of course, Emmy wasn’t too thrilled at first, but I promised to take it slow.” Hank laughed. “Not that I’ve got any other speed nowadays.”

“Private Investigator Hank Armato - impressive!” Suddenly remembering Gigi was standing there, Bert added, “Hank, this is my co-worker, Virginia Newman, better known as Gigi. And Gigi -”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Armato.” Gigi shook his hand, liking his firm grip and his sexy smile.

“My dad is Mr. Armato. Call me Hank.”

“Thanks, Hank. Ric and I are going to grab lunch over at Haley’s Diner. You two want to join us?”

“I want to hang around a little longer. What about you, Hank?” Bert hoped he would do a little snooping with her and get caught up on old times.

“Sure, why not. You, two lovebirds, take off. I’m sure Bert and I can get back home.”

The lovebirds waved goodbye and worked their way through the camera equipment toward Ric’s car.

“Hank, mind me asking if you found anything interesting in the backyard? The first time, here, and you got further than I ever have.”

“Just about everybody knows me. Once a detective, always a detective. Heck, I don’t know, but I didn’t bother to ask permission either. You know me, Bert. I just charge right in till someone screams stop.”

“You haven’t changed a bit, Hank. Guess that’s why you’re one of the best.” Bert patted his arm. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed her old friend.

“Thought it was interesting there’s a pile of fresh dirt in the garden. Kind of early for plants.”

Bert felt her throat tighten. “Oh my God. Toby.” She shook her head back and forth several times. “No! No! It can’t be Beth’s dog. She told me her dad made her give him away.”

“This Culbertson is a real character. Best stage show production I’ve seen in a long while.”

“Glad someone else agrees with me. Those reporters couldn’t get enough pictures. Today’s press conference will be on every TV channel. And that Rotello guy, it wasn’t his driver’s fault, so why the guilt? Offering a reward for a teenage girl.”

“Did Beth have a boyfriend? A young man, college age, dressed nice, not like the neighborhood boys?”

“She never mentioned anyone. Why?” Bert’s curiosity was building by the minute. When Hank Armato puts his blood-hound nose to the ground, all kinds of things start to happen.

“It might be nothing, but this young man didn’t fit this community. He stood off to the side, by the tree over there, hands shoved into his jean pockets. I could tell he was getting worked up over the news conference, but by the time I worked my way around to him, he’d disappeared. Like I said, it could be nothing.”

“But it could be something, too, Hank.

 

Author Notes

Dwight Culbertson - a violent drunk and father Nancy Galgato- a bartender and Dwights behind the scenes girlfriend Beth - the sixteen yr old daughter of Dwight Culbertson Rachel - Beth's best friend and confidant Roberta Atwell (Bert) - the caseworker assigned to the family Virginia Newman (Gigi) - new on the job, Bert's coworker Leroy - Nancy's cousin Ethan - upstanding, good-hearted college basketball star Tyson - Ethan's best friend and college basketball jock, who believes in self-survival Ric Santiago - RPD Detective Sergeant Triston Hall - female desk sergeant Sheriff Trainor - Winnebago County Sheriff Department Police Chief Pat O'Shea - Rockford Police Department Nathan Rotello - owner and CEO of Rotello Trucking Hank Armato - retired detective - active PI

Chapter 7
On the Edge of Deception - Pg 7

By Begin Again

After suffering the consequences of a physical beating from her father, with a belt, Beth Culbertson decides she will not take any more abuse and runs away, jumping from the frying pan into the fire.
 

The rising sun cast a rosy hue across the morning sky. The warm shafts of sunlight flowed through the window, filling the room with warmth. Immersed in a dream, Beth snuggled deeper beneath the comforter, allowing her thoughts to carry her away.

 

The sun glistened across the pond like spun gold. The scent of lilacs floated on the breeze. Birds chirped a musical song as she drifted lazily along in the tiny rowboat. A handsome stranger with a warm, inviting smile carefully dipped the oars in the water, one side at a time. He told a joke, and she laughed. She couldn’t remember ever being so at peace. 

 

Suddenly, without warning, dark threatening clouds covered the sun. The water became choppy and rough; the tiny rowboat rocked from side to side. Water rushed into the sinking boat. Her handsome stranger stretched out his arms, beckoning her to come to him, promising to keep her safe. She touched his hand but suddenly is jerked back, descending into the murky, dark water. Her arms flail against the sinister creature, fighting to survive. He pulls her down, down, down. Her father’s face is laughing hysterically.

 

A piercing, horrific shriek exploded from the deepest depths in Beth’s lungs, jolting her into a sitting position. A guttural moan followed as excruciating pain ripped through her body. Terrified, Beth clutched the comforter as if it was her only link to life. Her rattled senses confirm she wasn’t drowning, but the fear of not knowing where she was terrified her.

 

Trembling, Beth slipped out from beneath the covers and walked to the bedroom window. As she peeked through the blinds, she saw a familiar sight; the park was across the street. She breathed a small sigh of relief; at least she knew where she was. 

 

As quickly as she’d found relief, it vanished. Visions of Dwight towering over with his belt and beating her flooded her thoughts. The taste of fear and uncertainly claimed a stranglehold on her. She wondered if he was searching for her, or was he glad that she was gone? She’d been rescued and cared for last night, but by whom and was it safe? There had been two guys; one kind and caring, the other called her a bum, a drug addict. Could she put her trust in strangers? Her gut told her not to take a chance.  

 

Until she knew who she could trust, there was only one person, her best friend.  “Poor Rachel! I bet she’s frantic.” The words blurted out of her mouth. She scoffed at her reflection in the mirror. “You’re talking to yourself. Get a grip. Just call Rach. You know her Mom will let you crash there.” She shrugged. “Crisis temporarily solved.” Looking around the sparse room, she didn’t see what she needed, a phone.

 

Having a plan boosted her spirits. She tiptoed to the bedroom door, pressing her ear tightly against it, and listened. Everything was silent. Nervously, she cracked open the door and peered out into the living room. 

 

It wasn’t warm and cozy; instead, it felt cold and practical. A dark brown leather couch and matching chairs with an abstract carpet on the floor sat squared off with a 65-inch TV on the wall. On the black end tables, there were matching metal-framed lights, magazines, a pizza box, and empty pop cans. 

 

“Jackpot!” A phone was lying amidst the discarded pop cans. She opened the door wider, surveyed the room, and hurried to claim her prize. Grabbing the cell phone, she returned to the bedroom and closed the door. With the phone in both hands, she squeezed it tightly against her chest and, for the first time, smiled. It was a small victory, but a much-needed one.

 

For safety, she moved into the adjoining bathroom, punched in Rachel’s number, and waited. It was early, but she knew her friend would answer.

 

“Hello.”

 

“Rach, it’s me!”

 

“Beth?  Are you crazy calling me? If my Mom hears us, I’m dead.”

 

 Beth could hear the panic in Rachel’s voice, but she didn’t understand. “Why? I’m your best friend.”  She was confused. “She likes me.”  

 

“Well, after what you did, she said I better never speak to you or be around you.”

 

“What I did? I don’t understand, Rachel. Dwight beat me with his belt, and I ran away.” Beth sighed, “She’ll understand.”

 

“I’ve got to get off this phone before she hears me. I’m really sorry, Beth. I gotta go!”

 

“Wait! Wait! We’ve been friends forever, and you’re dumping me  - why, because I ran away?”

 

“It’s not about you running away, Beth. It’s what you did.” Rachel was fighting back the tears and the fear of getting caught.

 

“What I did? I have no idea -”

 

“Beth, the police were here last night. Dwight’s in a wheelchair. He says you hit him in the head and stole a bunch of money. There’s going to be a press conference this morning.”

 

“Rach, this isn’t funny.” Too much had happened in the last twelve hours for Rachels’ humor.

 

“I know, and I’m not joking.” Rachel fought to muffle her sobs. “My dad was at your house. He took a picture so he could show Mom and me. Your dad’s head is all wrapped up in bandages. I didn’t want to believe it. The police are going to press charges against you.”

 

“No, no. no. It’s not true, Rach.” Beth choked on her words.  “What am I going to do?  I was hoping to stay with you for a while.”

 

“That ain’t happening. The best I can do is drop off some clothes on my way to school, but I can’t see you. I don’t know what to say, Beth. I know your dad was mean, but you tried to kill him.” Her heart was racing. She believed something horrible had happened, but to try and kill her father. She couldn’t wrap her head around it.

 

“Rach, this is me you’re talking to. You know I wouldn’t do something like that. You’ve got to believe me.”

 

“I’m sorry. I really am, Beth. If it was just your dad, I might, but there are others. Neighbors are saying all kinds of horrible stuff.” Rachel didn’t want to believe it, but she’d seen the pictures and heard the police. “I guess I never really knew you.”

 

“They’re lying! You’d believe them over me? I thought-”

 

“I gotta go. Mom’s calling me for breakfast. I’ll leave a backpack with some clothes in the park where we always hang out. Bye, Beth.” The phone went dead.

 

Nausea hit her full force, and she grabbed the bathroom sink to steady herself. Her legs were wobbly, her pulse raced, and she struggled to breathe. The friendship she thought she could always count on was gone, vaporized into thin air.  First her mom, now Rachel, all because of her dad. “I hate you! I hate you!”

 

It started as a gurgle in her throat, building by the second until a gut-wrenching scream ripped from her body. Her flailing fists assaulted the wall, the floor, and every available surface. Disbelief and overwhelming grief gripped her tighter and tighter until she began to retch violently. Finally, exhausted and unable to move, she curled up like a fetus and lay there in shock, whimpering.

 

After about an hour, her strength began to return. Beth sat up, knees tucked to her chest, rocking back and forth. As the brain fog lifted and clarity set in, it was painful to accept that family and friends had betrayed her. She couldn’t trust anyone. She needed a plan, a new plan, and time to figure it out. 

 

First, though, she needed a shower because she had no idea when she’d have the chance for another one. Decision made, she started the water running and gingerly removed her clothes and the gauze. A chill went through her as she caught a glimpse of her back in the mirror. Not wanting to think about it, she stepped into the shower. It was time to leave before anything else happened.

 

**********

 

“Man, you sure about this?” Jesse rolled his eyes. “Since that bar thing, Ethan hasn’t spoken to me. He’s not going to like me crashing at his pad.”

 

“Leave Ethan to me. Besides, I’ll only be gone for an hour. Ethan’s got classes until noon. I’ll be back, and we’ll be gone. He’ll never even know you were here.”

 

“Okay, man, he’s your friend. He’s too much of a preppie for me.”

 

Hey, I get it! But Ethan’s one of the good guys. You should have seen him last night, trying to help this homeless bitch. She was out of it, moaning and screaming. I told him to leave it be, but he wasn’t listening.”

 

“What did he do with her?” Jesse made an obscene gesture, running his tongue back and forth between his lips. “She was probably asking for it. If that had been me, I sure would have tapped it.”

 

“Shut up! Ethan probably dropped her off at the hospital or something. I wasn’t messing with her.” Tyson unlocked the front door. “Watch some TV till I get back. Just don’t touch any of Ethan’s stuff.”

 

“Scouts honor.” Holding up three fingers, he laughed and entered the house as Tyson headed down the sidewalk toward the college.

 

Unaware, Beth stepped from the steamy shower, wrapping a towel around her slim, aching body.

Author Notes

Dwight Culbertson - a violent drunk and father Beth - the sixteen yr old daughter of Dwight Culbertson Rachel - Beth's best friend and confidant Ethan - upstanding, good-hearted college basketball star Tyson - Ethan's best friend and college basketball jock, who believes in self-survival Jesse - A risky choice of friends for Tyson

Chapter 8
On the Edge of Deception - Pg. 8

By Begin Again

After suffering the consequences of a physical beating from her father, with a belt, Beth Culbertson decides she will not take any more abuse and runs away, jumping from the frying pan into the fire.





“Shut up, Jerk! Ethan probably dropped her off at the hospital.” Tyson unlocked the front door. “Watch some TV till I get back. Just don’t touch any of Ethan’s stuff.”

 

“Scout’s honor.” Holding up three fingers, he laughed and entered the house as Tyson headed down the sidewalk toward the college.

 

Unaware, Beth stepped from the shower, wrapping a towel around her slim, aching body.

 

********

 

Closing the door behind him, Jesse held up his three fingers again, amused as he mocked his friend, “Scout’s honor, Ty.” Instantly, setting the promise aside, he announced, “Time to eat. I’m starving.”

 

Nancy Galgato employed Jesse at Last Chance, a neighborhood bar. Officially, he was the night bartender, but his duties were far more critical behind the scenes. As Nancy’s right-hand man, he was invaluable, which often demanded even longer night hours. Last night was one of those times; he’d popped a couple of Adderalls, followed by numerous bottles of Heineken. Now the desired effect was gone, and he was exhausted and famished.

 

Opening the fridge, he frowned in disgust at the available menu. “Come on, Eth - leftover Peppi’s pizza or Charlie’s Chinese takeout.” His stomach churned, growled and then, rumbled like thunder, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since yesterday. “Beggars can’t be choosers, I guess.” 

 

Sighing, he chose the pizza slices and a Coke, grabbed a handful of napkins from the counter, and shuffled back to the living room, choosing his comfort over the kitchen table. 

 

Shoving the empty pizza box off the end table, it sailed unceremoniously to the floor. Jesse replaced it with his unappetizing snack. A late night of work after the bar closed, irritation with Tyson’s impromptu arrival at his front door, and lack of food was an excellent combination for the headache nagging at his temples. He turned on the TV, expecting a basketball game; instead, a special report interrupted the scheduled program. The newscaster repeated the story about the search for a teenage girl suspected of assault and robbery. Bored, he reached for the remote to change the channel as a picture of the young runaway appeared on the screen. For a brief moment, his interest spiked as he studied Beth’s photo.  

 

“Fiesty mama! Gave your daddy whats for, huh?” Jesse chuckled out loud, “He couldn’t have been much of a man.” Quickly losing interest, he shrugged his shoulders, letting his thoughts revert to basketball again.

 

The throbbing against his temples interfered with his channel surfing. He tossed the remote and leaned back in the recliner, massaging the pulsing pain. He picked up the slice of cold pizza, ripped off a chunk with his teeth. He gagged on the taste of stale anchovies. He spit into the napkin and then quickly took huge gulps of the Coke, attempting to wash the disgusting flavor of dead fish out of his mouth. He wiped his mouth with another napkin before tossing it on the table. 

 

“Oh, man, why didn’t I just stay in bed?” He grimaced. His breath reeked with anchovies. He dug into his jean pocket for a stick of gum, unwrapped it, and put it in his mouth. The fresh wintergreen flavor appeased his senses for the moment. 

 

The persistent pain throbbing beneath his temples threatened to light his short-tempered fuse. He regretted his decision to succumb to Tyson’s badgering and join him for their required gym workout. He wanted and needed sleep, but first, he needed relief from the building pressure. In his haste, he’d forgotten his stash; now, he hoped Ethan would at least have a bottle of ibuprofen.

 

As he perused the room, checking the bookcase and Ethan’s desk, he tripped over a stack of reference books, lost his balance, and crashed against the guest bedroom door, knocking it open. 

 

A piercing scream ripped from Beth’s throat as she rushed toward the bed and her clothes. 

 

Surprised, Jesse jumped from his undignified position on the floor and shoved the door, banging it against the wall. He tried to focus, but his leering eyes were busy roaming over the delicious morsel in front of him. “Woo-wee! What have we here!” 

 

 Beth’s fingers tightened around the towel, fully aware it was her only shield separating her from him. She moved around the bed, trying to widen the space between her and her unwelcomed intruder. The red, hot blush of embarrassment spread across her pale skin. Tiny water droplets dripped from her damp wavy curls. She was unaware the sunlight made her wet, dewy skin glisten like sparkling diamonds, offering a highly seductive vision to Jesse.

 

“Get out!” She shrieked, but her lips quivered with fear. “Can’t you see I’m not dressed?”

 

“Oh, yeah, there’s nothing wrong with my eyesight.” Headache forgotten, Jesse rubbed the growing bulge in his jeans. “And I definitely like the view.” He raked his fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his face. A lascivious smile spread across his face. His male hunger was more than evident.

 

“You’re disgusting. Get out or -” Beth’s voice faltered. Knowing how vulnerable she was, her mind raced. She was young and inexperienced, but she understood the vibes coming from Jesse. Her body quivered at the thought of the possibility that he would forcibly rape her.

 

His six-foot-five-inch muscular frame towered over Beth as he moved closer, stalking his prey. Terrified, she shifted to the right, hoping to widen the distance between them. Too late, she realized her mistake; she’d backed into a corner. There was no way out.

 

“Or what?” Jesse mocked her.  “Call the police? Sure thing! I just saw your cute little face on a wanted poster, babe.”

 

Her anger flared, and she snapped, “It’s a lie! I didn’t hurt anyone, especially my father.” She wrapped her arms tighter against her chest. Her eyes continued to dart back and forth around the room, praying for a means of escape. 

 

“That’s what they all say. Your tight ass is going to prison.”  His sarcastic smile never reached his cold, penetrating eyes. He understood the power he held over her, and he loved it. The fear in her eyes fueled his ego. He taunted her, “Did you give some of that to Ethan last night?”

 

Beth spat at him. “Drop dead!”  Her eyes dropped to the floor, unable to maintain contact as he caressed her with his eyes. He wet his lips and openly taunted her as his tongue flickered back and forth. Her stomach knotted, and bile rose in her throat.

 

“You’re one feisty little momma, aren’t you?” His mindset had shifted; her fear heightened his libido, overpowering any sense of right or wrong. “I’m not big on sloppy seconds, but for you, I could make an exception.” His eyes moved down her body, caressing each soft, delicate curve. Lust was raging through his veins, demanding to be released. His breathing was fast and ragged.

 

“Stay away from me.”  A flood of angry tears spilled from her eyes, streaming down her cheeks. Her trembling legs threatened to buckle beneath her. Searing pain from yesterday’s brutal attack racked her body. Everything about her screamed for help.

 

The four walls of the sparsely furnished bedroom were closing in on Beth. Staring at Jesse, she knew time was running out, and she needed a plan. Her eyes darted around the room, finally focusing on the dresser. A table lamp with a round glass bottom, a black hairbrush, and a can of air freshener were the weapons available. She chose the Febreeze as her preferred defense; it provided space between her and him. 

 

Decision made, her free hand grabbed the can, aimed it, spraying it directly at Jesse’s face. Almost like a battle cry, she screamed, “Get out! Get out!” Her bravery was short-lived.   Violently, batting away the aerosol, Jesse’s tirade of curses vaporized her momentum, leaving only a trembling shell. She ended her valiant assault with a barely audible whimper, “Please, get out!”

 

His eyes burned. Cursing, he wiped at them before directing his rage toward his attacker. Any inkling of reversing course vanished. Anger spilled from his mouth. “You’re going to regret that!”  He unbuckled his belt, menacingly moved toward Beth. “Payback is hell! And I'm about to collect.” 

 

His swift movements caught Beth off-guard. Lunging forward, he grabbed her arms and tossed her on the bed with one fluid motion. As he pinned her down, she tossed her head from side to side, sobbing and begging, “Stop! Stop! Please, don’t do this.” Her pleas fell on deaf ears.

 

A deadly cocktail of anger and lust exploded inside Jesse. He jerked the wet towel from her tightly balled fingers, and his broad hands clamped around her breasts. “It’s your lucky day, Bitch.” He pressed his open mouth against her tender skin. She struggled frantically, writhing under his revolting touch. 

 

Paralyzed beneath his muscular body, she screamed, “God, make him stop. Make him stop.” As he pushed her body into unfamiliar territory, she begged, “Help me, please.”  Excruciating pain ripped through her.

Squeezing her eyes closed, she prayed she would die. She was losing the will to fight, but then, yesterday’s image of her father pawing at her struck her like a bolt of lightning. Instantly, she reacted; her fingers clawed at Jesse’s face, sinking her nails into his unshaven cheeks. His response was brutal, viciously striking the side of Beth’s head. Her head wobbled as the room filled with spinning stars. It was her last thought as darkness surrounded her, and she slipped into oblivion. 

 

Satisfied, Jesse rolled over on the bed and zipped his jeans. He’d proven his manly prowess and reaped his reward. Beth’s motionless body had no visible effect on him. He was content. It was time for him to leave.

 

He pulled the door closed and leisurely strolled across the park. Not once did he consider Beth or anyone else’s reaction to what happened. The girl was Ethan’s problem, not his. In his mind, she’d flaunted and teased him till he couldn’t refuse. After all, he was a virile, hot-blooded twenty-two-year-old who enjoyed sex. Nothing wrong with that, right?

 

************

 

Beth slowly regained consciousness. As the horrifying memories flooded her mind, she wept. Jesse’s cruel actions had snuffed out all her “Barbie doll dreams” of romance, love, and beautiful ever-afters. He’d stolen more than her virginity. The rose-colored glasses were gone, replaced with distrust and disillusionment. Her heart was heavy. She’d begged God to save her, but he’d not answered her prayers. 

Despite the unbearable pain, she knew she needed to escape. It hadn't proven to be safe here. What if he returned?

Working off pure adrenalin, she forced herself to dress and comb her hair. She needed a quiet place to rest and find a plan, but first, she needed clothes other than what she was wearing. Thoughts of Rachel's betrayal brought tears to her eyes. Angrily, she brushed them away. She hoped her one-time friend had kept her word and brought the backpack to the park.
 

If she was going to survive, she knew she’d have to do it alone. She could trust no one, not even God.

Author Notes

Dwight Culbertson - a violent drunk and father Beth - the sixteen yr old daughter of Dwight Culbertson Rachel - Beth's best friend and confidant Ethan - upstanding, good-hearted college basketball star Tyson - Ethan's best friend and college basketball jock, who believes in self-survival Jesse - A risky choice of friends for Tyson and bartender at Last Chance

Chapter 9
On the Edge of Deception - Pg 9

By Begin Again

After suffering the consequences of a physical beating from her father, with a belt, Beth Culbertson decides she will not take any more abuse and runs away, but the father has a different story to tell.

 

“Tyson, wait up.” Ethan took the steps two at a time, racing to catch up with his friend. “You should have been with me! What a show!”

“You’re sure wound up. Let me guess; she’s an ax murderer?” Tyson faked a left jab and then a right to Ethan’s jaw. 

“Shut up! That’s not even funny.” Ethan crossed his arms in front of his face, wailing, “Don’t hurt me!”
 

Several other students walked past; one girl rolled her eyes at their antics, others smiled at them. Both young men burst into a fit of laughter and continued jabbing at each other as they began the walk to Ethan’s home.

 

“So how did that press conference go? Learn anything special about the girl?” Tyson hadn’t changed his mind about her, but he understood that Ethan was different than him. 

 

“Haven’t been able to figure it all out yet.” Ethan stopped walking and faced his friend. “Her father is accusing her of assault and grand theft.”

 

“What?” Tyson could not hide his surprise. “She’s the one hurt. It had to be self-defense.”

 

“The Sheriff says she hit him over the head from behind.” Ethan scrunched up his face. “He was in a wheelchair, begging for her to come home.”

 

“Well, maybe she should go home. Maybe her dad’s sorry.”

 

“Are you crazy? I saw the red welts and bruises with my own eyes. If her dad did it, he should be in jail.”

 

“But what if he didn’t? You’re risking a lot, Ethan. Stop and think for a minute. You’re covering for a fugitive.” Tyson shook his head. “I’m looking out for you!”

 

“I know.” He shrugged his shoulders. “The least I can do is get her side of the story.”

 

“You know where she is? I thought you took her to the hospital last night.”

 

“Actually, she slept in the spare room.” Ethan sprinted toward his front door. 

 

“What? Oh God, no!” Tyson panicked. “Ethan, wait!” He raced after Ethan, grabbing his arm.

 

“Man, what’s wrong with you?” Ethan reached for the door handle.

 

“I didn’t know about the girl. I let Jesse wait for me here.”

 

Ethan yanked his arm away and opened the door. “I can’t believe you, Ty. I told you never to bring him to my house. He’s nothing but a lowlife.”

 

The bedroom door was standing open. Ethan rushed to the doorway and peered inside. He called her name,  “Beth. It’s Ethan.” No one answered, so he moved into the bedroom and checked the bathroom.

 

As he turned to leave, he spotted the bright red bloodstain on the bedsheets. Ethan made a low, guttural growl before spinning around to confront his friend.

 

Tyson stood in the doorway, stunned by what he saw. “Don’t jump to conclusions, Eth. Maybe it’s her woman thing.”

 

“I told you I never wanted that lowlife in my house. How could you, Ty?”

 

“It was just for an hour. You don’t know -”

 

“Get out, Ty. Just go before I say something we’ll regret.” Ethan pushed Tyson toward the front door.

 

“Over a girl, we don’t know? You’d choose her over me?” Tyson’s anger flared. “If our friendship means that little, you can go to hell.” 

 

Ethan grabbed Tyson’s shirt. Standing nose to nose, he snarled, “You chose Jesse over me. So, you can go to hell.”

 

Tempers flared, and fists began to fly. Tyson hit Ethan with a right uppercut to the chin, and Ethan retaliated with several punches of his own. His last effort sent Tyson sprawling across the floor.

 

“Get out, Tyson.” He turned and walked back into the bedroom. His stomach turned. He worried about where Beth was and what might have happened. Jesse had a lousy track record when it came to women; he prayed Beth wasn’t another notch on his belt.

 

**********

 

One hour after the fight, Ethan was still berating himself. Tyson was his best friend and he’d actually got into a fistfight with him. Granted, he shouldn’t have brought Jesse to his house, but he, also, had no idea Beth was here. Besides, Beth could have run away earlier this morning, or maybe she got scared with Jesse here and left. He kept trying to convince himself, but Jesse’s track record and the bedroom sheets told a different story.

 

Regardless, he needed to fix things between him and Ty. He reached in his pocket for his cell, but it wasn’t there; then remembered he’d forgotten it in his rush to get to the press conference. The next fifteen minutes were spent searching the house. He finally located it on the floor of the bedroom. 

 

“That’s odd. I know I didn’t leave it there.” He dialed Tyson’s number and listened to it ring. When Tyson didn’t answer, he left a message, “Ty, listen, man, I’m sorry. I flipped out because of Jesse and I shouldn’t have dumped it all on you. Call me!” He laid the phone down on the end table and headed to the kitchen for a Coke.

 

The phone rang and Ethan sprinted to answer it.

 

“Hi, Ty, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, man. It’s -

 

“Hello.” A young female voice was talking on the other end.

 

“Hello. I’m sorry. I was expecting a call from my friend.”

 

“I understand. My friend called me this morning from this number.”

 

“Your friend - is she by any chance Beth?”  That would explain the phone being in the bedroom. “Awesome, is she with you? Or do you know where she’s at?”

 

There was a long pause on the other end. “My name’s Rachel. I’m Beth’s best friend or at least I was till this morning. I need to talk to her.”

 

“Sorry, I’m not following. You talked to Beth, right?”  

 

“Yes, she wanted to come to my house, but my parents said no.”

 

“What? If she’s your best friend, why would they do that? She needed your help.”

 

“Oh, I know. I hate what I’ve done.”

 

“Listen, my name is Ethan and I found Beth in the park last night. Maybe, we could meet and piece the stories together.”

 

“Uuhh - I don’t know.”

 

‘I get it! You don’t know me, so let’s meet somewhere you’ll feel safe. Pick a place.”

 

“Okay, Beth and I always go to Chill Out; it’s a diner across from the Library. Would that be okay?”

 

“Great! I’m wearing a red basketball jersey and blue jeans. Can you be there in an hour?”

 

“I’ll be there. Thanks, Ethan. We’ve got to find her before the police do.”

 

“We’ll figure this out, Rachel. See you at the diner.”

 

Ethan exhaled loudly as he hung up the phone. He had an hour to kill and he needed to reach Tyson. He punched in his friend’s number, talking to himself while listening to it ring. “Well, Ty, why haven’t you called?” When it went to voice mail, he left another message, “Come on, Ty, don’t be that way. I screwed up, but so did you. Just call me back.”

Author Notes

Dwight Culbertson - a violent drunk and father Beth - the sixteen yr old daughter of Dwight Culbertson Rachel - Beth's best friend and confidant Ethan - upstanding, good-hearted college basketball star Tyson - Ethan's best friend and college basketball jock, who believes in self-survival Jesse - A risky choice of friends for Tyson and bartender at Last Chance

Chapter 10
On the Edge of Deception - Pg 10

By Begin Again

After suffering the consequences of a physical beating from her father, with a belt, Beth Culbertson decides she will not take any more abuse and runs away, but the father has a different story to tell.





 

Tyson’s temper was flaming hot by the time he reached Last Chance. He couldn’t decide who he hated worse, Ethan or Jesse. As soon as Jesse saw Ty storm through the front door, he knew he needed a plan, and he needed it fast.

Tyson chose a spot near the end of the bar, a quiet place so he could confront his so-called friend about the girl. Jesse popped the top off an ice-cold Heineken and set it down in front of Ty.

“First one’s on the house.” Jesse gave Ty the once over. “Though you look like you’re going to need more than one, pal.”

“Thanks to you!” Tyson lifted the beer to his lips and started swallowing until it was empty. Without being asked, Jesse replaced it with another one.

“Because of me? I didn’t do anything.”  

“I left you at the house-” Tyson lowered his voice, checked to see if anyone was near, then asked, “What’d you do, Jesse?”

“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about, Ty. It looks like some prizefighter knocked you out in the first round, and now you’re coming in here accusing me of something.” Jesse exchanged the second empty bottle for a fresh one. He needed to keep them coming.
 

“The girl -” Tyson, without even thinking, chugged down the third beer. “Tell me you didn’t … you didn’t touch that girl.”

“What girl? I have no idea what you’re ranting about.” Jesse leaned across the bar. “Trust me; I don’t know anything about a girl.”

“She was at Ethan’s house.” Tyson’s anger flared. “Eth thinks you raped her!”

“Whoa, brother! I never saw a girl, and I certainly get enough action without needing to rape someone.” Jesse moved closer to Ty, “You tell your friend, he better shut his mouth, or I’ll be shutting it for him.”

Tyson ran his hand across his bruised jaw. “Don’t worry, I did, and he clocked me.”

Jesse set two high-ball glasses on the counter. He filled them with whiskey, pushing one towards Ty. He raised his glass in the air. “I salute you, my friend. Appreciate you standing up for me.”

Ty drank the whiskey, savoring the burn as it rolled down his throat. He wasn’t feeling the pain as much anymore.

 

*************

Across town, Ethan walked into Chill Out. It was a small Mom and Pop restaurant, mostly flipping burgers and serving salty fries for the local kids. He scanned the counter and the booths.

In one of the far booths, a petite girl with shoulder-length red hair, blue oversized tortoiseshell glasses, and a navy blue leather choker waved at him. She smiled nervously as he slid into the booth.

“Hi, I’m Ethan.”

“I’m Rachel, Beth’s friend.” She laughed, “Guess you already figured that out, right?”

“Would you like something to eat? What’s good here?” Ethan tried to put her at ease.

“Beth -” She choked back a sob and continued, “Beth and I always get the cheeseburger baskets. It comes with fries and a coke.”

He waved for the waitress, and then he placed the orders. Ethan needed information, and he hoped Rachel would have it.

“What happened between you and Beth this morning, if you don’t mind me asking?” He didn’t want to push, but it might be necessary.

“My parents believe her dad. They’re buying the whole wheelchair stuff. They think Beth did all that because no parent would lie about their child that way.”

“Don’t they know about the beatings?” Ethan found it impossible to believe that an adult would approve of anyone using a belt on a child.

“Nobody does! Beth lied and covered for him all the time. She’s afraid of him. She knows he’s responsible for her mom’s death and her dog, Toby, too. He’s threatened her so many times.”

“That’s rough. Losing your mom and then having your father do those things. Does she have any other family or friends she’d turn to besides you?

“No, it’s just Beth and her dad.”  Rachel waited for the waitress to set their food down and walk away. “There were a couple of caseworkers from the Child Services place. Dwight missed a court date, and they were there when Beth and I came home from school.”

“Great! Do you remember their names? Maybe Beth contacted one of them.”

“I doubt she would. She didn’t want anyone to know. I tried to tell her she needed to talk to Bert, but she was so afraid. Look where that got her.” Tears started to form in Rachel’s eyes. “I’m sorry, but I’m so scared for her. And I let her down really bad. I wasn’t there for her, and she needed me.”

Ethan handed her a napkin and waited till she gained control. He knew how she felt since he’d pretty much done the same thing to Ty.

“Don’t worry. We’re going to find her.  You can tell her you didn’t mean any of it. I’m sure she’ll understand. But try and remember the caseworkers’ names.”

“Oh, gosh, I just wanted to get out of there when they started asking questions about Beth’s bruises. She told them she fell at the park playing with Toby.”

“I guess I could just try calling and see if anyone will tell me anything, but I know how closed mouth they are. You know, rules are rules.”

Rachel laughed. “Yeah, I’m supposed to be studying at the library, right now? My parents would ground me for life if they knew I was sitting here with you.”

“My lips are sealed. I won’t tell.” Ethan smiled at the innocent young girl sitting across from him. How could this all be happening in their world?

“Oh, I think I know. It was Bertha, no that’s not it. Bert … Bert and Gigi, or was it, Ginger? I’m pretty sure it was Bert and Gigi; one of them was new.”

“You did good, Rachel. I’ll call their office tomorrow and see if I can make a connection.”

Ethan checked his phone. No call from Tyson yet either. He would try again after they finished eating. They both finished their burgers in silence, worrying about their friends. 

 

*************

The beer and whiskey had flowed freely all night, and Tyson was far past the stage of sober. His elbows were on the bar, holding his head up.

“Hey, pal, it’s closing time.” Jesse wiped the bar down and tossed the last beer bottle in the trash.

“Yeah, I bet...ter get my act to..get..her. What’d I do w..ith my keys?”

“You can’t drive, Ty. You’re coming with me. I’ve got a job to do, and then I’ll drop you off.”

“Suuure! I know you’ll take care of me, right?”

“Yeah, I’m going to take good care of you, Ty.”

Jesse moved to the other end of the bar and made a phone call.

“You set?” He listened to the person on the other end and added, “It’s going to be like taking candy from a baby. Trust me!” He hung up the phone and went to get Ty.

Author Notes

Dwight Culbertson - a violent drunk and father Beth - the sixteen yr old daughter of Dwight Culbertson Rachel - Beth's best friend and confidant Ethan - upstanding, good-hearted college basketball star Tyson - Ethan's best friend and college basketball jock, who believes in self-survival Jesse - A risky choice of friends for Tyson and bartender at Last Chance

Chapter 11
On the Edge of Deception - Pg11

By Begin Again

After suffering the consequences of a physical beating from her father, with a belt, Beth Culbertson decides she will not take any more abuse and runs away, but the father has a different story to tell.

 

Life doesn’t always play out the way we expect. For Jesse, tonight would be one of those nights.

 

Whitesnake blasted from the radio as Jesse sang as if the song belonged to him.  His fingers strummed the steering wheel, and his body gyrated like a rocker on stage, “I’ve been a gypsy for a thousand years, a victim of circumstance. I go where my destiny calls; I’m caught in a game of chance.” 

 

He’d swallowed some Adderall and chased it with several beers. Energized, he maneuvered Ty into the rear seat of the black Chevrolet Suburban and headed for the abandoned factory on Highway 251.  Adrenaline was surging through his veins, and he was in a state of euphoria. Tonight, he’d prove his worth. He wasn’t just a punk bartender; he was a rising star.

 

He switched off the headlights and pulled into the empty parking lot. Tall weeds, a broken sign, and a dilapidated fence stood watch over the broken windows and crumbling brick walls. The abandoned machine shop sat covered in layers of dust and cobwebs. For those not wanting to be seen, it was the perfect place to hide.

 

He couldn’t see Miguel, but he knew he was there. The bright amber tip of his Cuban cigar glowed in the dark. Jesse rolled to a stop and waited. Miguel moved from the shadows and jogged toward the vehicle. Opening the door, he snuffed out his cigar and hopped inside.

 

“Took you long enough.” As he fastened the seat belt, Miguel caught sight of Tyson’s crumpled body, passed out in the back seat. “Hey, what’s with him?”

 

‘It’s cool. He’s so drunk he won’t wake up until tomorrow.” Jesse put the Suburban in gear and eased onto the deserted highway before turning on the headlights. It was overkill, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

 

“This road is dead. Haven’t seen any cars at all. Just the way I want it.”

 

“You worry too much, pal. Now let’s get this done. Is the set-up very far?”  Jesse kept his eyes on the road, listening to Miguel’s instructions. 

 

“Just around this curve, on the right. There are some fallen branches for the roadblock and a perfect spot for you to park.” Miguel pointed ahead, “About 50 feet, and you’ll see it.”

 

“Dope, Miguel. Couldn’t have found a better place myself.” Jesse surveyed the area, nodding, confirming it was a good choice. The low-hanging tree branches and tall weeds were perfect for an ambush. 

 

“You back the Suburban in, and I’ll pull the branches across the road.” Miguel jumped out and blocked off the road with the fallen tree limbs before returning to the vehicle.

 

Jesse smiled, “Now we wait. It shouldn’t be long.”

 

********

 

The men sat in silence, watching the long stretch of highway. After about fifteen minutes, Miguel started to get fidgety. “Come on! Let’s get this over with.” Tyson was tossing around in the back seat. “Don’t like the idea of him being here either.”

 

“Quit your bellyaching. It’ll be over in a few.” Jesse looked at his watch.

 

“How do you know? Maybe the route was changed, or your source got the time wrong.” 

 

Jesse chuckled, “Now that’s one thing we don’t have to worry about. Believe me when I say I got it straight from the horse’s mouth.”

 

“I don’t know, Jesse. I’m starting to sweat this.” He wiped his brow with a red bandana he pulled from his pocket. “I know I told you I was game, but it’s not the same as boosting parked cars. What if the driver has a gun?”

 

“Oh, man, you’ve been watching too many Scorsese movies. This guy wants to get home tonight in one piece. He’s going to let us grab the stuff, and it’s done.”  

 

In the distance, two white globes of light appeared on the horizon as they rounded the curve and sped through the night. The bold red letters on the refrigerated panel truck read Rotello Pharmaceuticals. The vehicle’s cargo contained assorted cartons of amphetamines, opioids, insulins, barbiturates, steroids, and miscellaneous medical paraphernalia. A local community hospital was its destination.

 

As the vehicle approached the fallen tree, the driver slowed down, accessing the possibility of getting around it. Muttering to himself, “Just what I don’t need.” He braked and brought the truck to a stop. 

 

He’d been briefed on the recent hijackings in the area but figured his shipment would fall under the radar. The drug cartel didn’t bother with small potatoes.

 

As he climbed down from the truck cab, he grabbed his jean jacket to protect his arms. He wasn’t afraid of most things, but the eerie silence on a dimly lit back road gave him reason to pause. His eyes scanned the roadside. A raccoon rustled through the grass, and an owl hooted in the distance; otherwise, it appeared he was alone.

 

He reached back into the cab, flipped open the console, grabbing a few things, including a pair of leather work gloves. He pulled them on and headed toward the debris. His headlights lit the area.

 

“Ready?” Jesse looked at Miguel, “Come on, kid, let’s do this.” 

 

As Jesse slipped off the front seat, he reached under the bench and pulled out a .357 magnum, slipping it into his waistband. Silently, the two young men crouched in the tall weeds, waiting for the right moment to strike. The driver tugged on the heavy branch, stumbling backward. At that second, he was unbalanced and vulnerable. 

 

Jesse sprang out of the weeds, pulling the gun from his waistband. He rushed toward the driver, yelling, “Get your hands in the air.” His adrenalin level was at an eight and climbing, bolstering his confidence.

 

Miguel rushed to the back of the cargo van, and shined his flashlight on the boxes. He read the labels till he found the ones labeled OXYCONTIN® (oxycodone hydrochloride). He grabbed the first stack and hastily carried them to the back of Jesse’s vehicle. 

 

The driver was nervous, pacing back and forth, mentally evaluating Miguel and Jesse. He decided to confront the one with the gun.

 

“Man, I don’t want no trouble. I’m just doin’ my job.” He spat on the ground, keeping Jesse in his sites.

 

Jesse snorted, “Me too.” Waving the gun in the air, he added, “You’ve got what I want, and I gotta take it from you.”

 

“Okay, take it. But easy with that gun. Just take what you want and go.”

 

Miguel passed by with another stack of boxes. The driver turned toward him, asking, “Hope it’s worth it, amigo because this is not going to set well with Mr. Rotello.” 

 

Jesse barked, “Shut up, man.” Then he turned to Miguel, “Hurry it up.”

 

“I’m going as fast I can. It’s dark out here.” He disappeared behind the truck and grabbed another stack of boxes. He couldn’t help wondering how many thousands of dollars each box was worth. Dollar signs flashed in his head.

 

“Stop that pacing. Get down on your knees.”  When the driver didn’t respond to his command, Jesse rushed closer, pointing the gun at the driver. “You don’t want me to kill you, do you?”

 

His stomach twisted as he heard a familiar voice behind him.

 

“Jess, wha- what’s  goin’ on?” Tyson stood in the roadway, wobbling side to side, approaching his friend. 

 

“Get back in the car, Ty. Stay out of this.”

 

“Wha-t what’s in the boxes?” Tyson kept moving forward toward Jesse.

 

Jesse was frantic. “Ty, get back in the car. Miguel, grab the stuff, and let’s get out of here.” This wasn’t supposed to happen. He couldn’t think straight.

 

Sensing a break in the action, the driver started to back away toward his truck. The situation was spiraling out of control. Jesse fired the gun into the air. “Stop! I don’t want to shoot you, man.” Terror ripped through his chest. “Stop, man! Just get down on the ground.”

 

“Jeeese! Yoou -r crazy.” Tyson grabbed his friend’s arm. “Stop!”

 

Jesse shoved him away, yelling, “For the last time, get in the car.” 

 

As he turned back to face the driver, he saw a gun flash in rapid succession;  once, twice, three, maybe four times. His eyes widened in fear, and he felt a hot-searing pain in his left side. He fired his gun. Stumbling and fighting for air, he fired again. The driver dropped to his knees. Jesse shot one more round and dropped facedown on the asphalt. 

 

The night was silent. Clouds of smoke drifted here and there. The sulfur left a putrid smell of rotten eggs. Three blood-soaked bodies lay still on the asphalt pavement. Two bright red taillights disappeared into the night, racing away from a robbery gone terribly wrong.

Author Notes

Dwight Culbertson - a violent drunk and father Beth - the sixteen yr old daughter of Dwight Culbertson Rachel - Beth's best friend and confidant Ethan - upstanding, good-hearted college basketball star Tyson - Ethan's best friend and college basketball jock, who believes in self-survival Jesse - A risky choice of friends for Tyson and bartender at Last Chance Miguel - Jesse's partner in crime

Chapter 12
On the Edge of Deception - Pg12

By Begin Again

 

“Unit 265 to Dispatch -  Police officer needs assistance (10-18)  Ambulance requested, Fire Code 10300 Highway 251 - 

 Dispatcher: "All units in the 7th District and County-wide: Officer needs assistance (10-18) Fire Code 10300 Highway 251, Zone 6."
 
Police Chief Dan O’Shea heard the first radio call to Dispatch. He set his briefcase down and walked out to the squad room. “Unit 265 is Tommy Cason, right?”
 

The Dispatcher nodded and continued to monitor the radio.

 

The Chief barked, “Get him on the phone. I want to know what’s going on.” He went back into his office and waited for the line to ring.

 

The dispatcher yelled from her desk, “Patching it through, Chief.”

 

He answered on the first ring. “Tommy, what’s up?”

 

“Chief, I’m out here on 251. Got a single vehicle upside down in the ditch. The driver is unconscious but breathing.”

 

“Any idea on the cause?”

 

“Not yet. I'm running the plates and -”

 

Another officer yelled, “Hey, Tommy. You better take a look at this. The Suburban’s loaded with pharmaceutical boxes. A lot of oxycontin down here.”

 

“Chief, this isn’t looking good. The vehicle's hauling boxes of oxycontin and the vehicle smells like a brewery."

 

“Check it out, Tommy, and get back to me.”  He hung up the phone and walked to the door. “Get Nathan Rotello on the phone. And find Triston.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Sandy, the department desk officer, snapped up her phone, flipped through her telephone log, and found the number. First, she placed a call to Triston. “Sergeant Hall, Chief wants you in his office ASAP. There’s a problem out on Highway 251.”

 

After confirming Triston was on her way, she searched for the number for Rotello Trucking and dialed. The telephone rang numerous times before the answering machine picked up, “You’ve reached Rotello Trucking. Our business hours are from seven to five, Monday thru Friday. Please leave your name and number, and we will return your call as soon as possible. If this is an emergency, please call Nathan Rotello at 815 324-6777. We appreciate your business. Thank you.”

 

Rolling over in bed, Nathan checked the alarm clock. The glaring red numbers read 3:34 A.M.

His bedside phone continued to ring. He swung his legs off the edge of the mattress and answered, “Hello, Nate Rotello speaking.”

 

“Mr. Rotello, my apologies for waking you, but Chief O’Shea needs to speak to you.”

 

“It’s the middle of the night! Can’t it wait?” Nate made little effort to hide his annoyance.

 

“Sorry, sir. Just following orders. He said to get you on the line.” She hesitated a brief second and added, “I’ll transfer you to his phone. One moment, please.”

 

“O’Shea here.”

 

“Pat, it’s Nate Rotello. What the hell’s going on? You do know it’s three-thirty in the morning, right? Some of us like to sleep.”

 

“Yeah, Nate. Sorry about the timing, but there’s been an accident out on 251. The vehicle's loaded with oxycontin. Know anything about that?”

 

“No way, Pat. Our shipments go out in Rotello trucks.”

 

“Unit 505 to Dispatch - Police Officer needs assistance (10-18) aggravated vehicular hijacking - 110 homicide - three victims down - coroner requested. Fire Code 12242 Highway 251 

 

Dispatcher: “All available units in the 7th District and County-wide: Officers need assistance (10-18) two separate locations. Advise your availability 10300 Highway 251, Zone 6 and 12242 Highway 251, Zone 6.

 

Unit 505 to Dispatch - Priority request to be patched to the Chief.

 

“Hang on, Nate. I’ve got a priority patch coming in. Maybe they have more information.”

 

The second line rang, and he picked up the receiver. “O’Shea here.”

 

“Sir, this is Officer Rainbolt. I’m out on 251, south of the initial scene. Looks like a hijacking gone bad. Confirming three bodies and a Rotello truck.”

 

“You’re sure of your information?” O’Shea expelled the air from his lungs. “Stay on top of it, Rainbolt.”

 

“Yes, sir. I’ll keep you in the loop.”

 

Chief O’Shea clicked over to the other line. “Nate, you better get down here. There’s been a hijacking out on 251.  I’m told it’s one of your trucks.”

 

“Hijacking? On 251? That would be Halsted headed for Whipton Community Hospital. Is he okay?”

 

“Details are just coming in. Get your butt in here. By then, I should have more information.”

 

“Okay.” Nate’s voice was strained, “ Poor guy's got a wife and three kids.” 

 

The Chief buried his face in his hands. Another family broken. The drugs were becoming an epidemic, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

 

“Did anyone find Triston?”  He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He left the comfort of his bed twenty-two hours ago, and by the looks of things, he wouldn’t see it any time soon.

 

“I’m right here, Chief. The team has filled me in with what we know so far.” 

 

“Good. Nate Rotello’s headed in, too. I want Santiago in my office.”  Triston turned to leave. “Oh, yeah, and I guess somebody better bring Sheriff Trainor into the mix.”

 

“I’m on it, boss.” Triston wanted to tell him he was burning the candle at both ends, but now just wasn’t the time. Instead, she smiled,  “I’ll bring you a fresh cup of coffee.”

 

**********

 

Detective Ric Santiago tapped on the Chief’s door. 

 

“Come in, Ric. Take a load off.” The Chief indicated the chair across from his desk. “You got an update for me?”

 

“Yes, sir. The Suburban was reported missing out of Wisconsin two weeks ago, and it has stolen Indiana tags. The driver is 21-year-old Tyson Jamison, a local resident currently enrolled at Whipton College on a basketball scholarship. No family listed. No priors, a clean sheet as far as I’ve found so far. He’s in ICU at Mercy Hospital, and his condition is listed as critical with an unstable prognosis. His blood-alcohol level was charted at .35 BAC. Our boy was hammered. The vehicle was carrying 24 boxes of oxycontin."

 

"Tree branches were used to blockade the road. As they were unloading, something went wrong. The driver, John Halsted, was shot twice, and the two alleged hijackers both died from gunshot wounds. Neither has been identified yet.”

 

"Nate is on his way in. I’d like you here when I talk to him. Isn’t this the third hijacking in the last six months?”

 

“Yeah. My question is, how do they know when one of these late-night shipments is going down? And what happened out there tonight?”  Ric shook his head, “If those drugs had made it to the streets -”

 

“Yeah, it’s escalating from hijacking to murder. We need a handle on this, and we need it fast.”

 

“The kid in the hospital had a card in his billfold for emergency contact. Ethan somebody. Triston is working on that now, and we’ll follow up with him to see what he knows.” Ric stood and walked to the doorway, “If this is escalating, we might need to bring in more muscle.”

 

“I hate outsiders but do whatever it takes. I want this stuff off my streets.” The Chief released a heavy sigh. “Nate just walked in. Let’s see what he has to say about the shipments.”

Author Notes

Dwight Culbertson - a violent drunk and father Beth - the sixteen yr old daughter of Dwight Culbertson Rachel - Beth's best friend and confidant Ethan - upstanding, good-hearted college basketball star Tyson - Ethan's best friend and college basketball jock, who believes in self-survival Jesse - A risky choice of friends for Tyson and bartender at Last Chance Miguel - Jesse's partner in crime Chief Pat O'Shea Sergeant Triston Hall Detective Ric Santiago Nathan Rotello - trucking company owner

Chapter 13
On the Edge of Deception Pg 13

By Begin Again

After suffering the consequences of a physical beating from her father, with a belt, Beth Culbertson decides she will not take any more abuse and runs away, but the father has a different story to tell.

 

When you are sad and the walls feel like they are closing around you, remember the only way to get out of the dark tunnel is to keep walking.

Beth could hear her mom’s voice swirling around inside her head. Is she telling me to go home or to keep going? She had no idea what to do.

 

“Mom, I need you.” Beth crouched on the ground between two buildings; desperation overwhelmed her. “I just wanted him to stop. And now … they want to put me … me in jail, not him.” She brushed away her tears with the back of her hand. “I hate him, but I didn’t do what he says I did. Mom, I don’t know what to do.”

 

With her forehead pressed against her tucked knees, exhaustion claimed her, and she fell into a fitful sleep. She uttered an agonizing moan, and her body jerked violently.

 

“Stop! Please stop. Don’t hit me again.” 

 

A thin, frail hand reached out and touched her. “Sweetie, can I help?”  

 

Beth flung her arms wildly in the air, gasping for air, “Please don’t! Please, don’t touch me.” She scooted backward, across the ground, terrified.

 

“I won’t hurt you. I promise.”  An older woman stood staring at her.

 

Beth’s frightened eyes studied the woman. She wore a heavy blue coat, a faded denim dress, and a colorful bandana covering her mousy gray hair. Her withered brown face spoke of difficult times, but her soft brown eyes and gentle smile eased Beth’s fears.

 

“I’m sorry.” Beth let her head drop down. “I was - it was a nightmare.” She brought her eyes back to meet the woman, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

 

“No, sweetie, Ole Maize has felt harder blows in her time. She’s got a tough hide.” Maize could tell the dirty young girl hadn’t known street life for very long. “You stayin’ around here?”

 

Beth shook her head. Tears glistened in her eyes. “I - I have a home.”

 

Maize studied the girl. There was something familiar about her, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.  “Sure you do, sweetie. Maize didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

 

“I know. I - maybe I should go home.” 

 

Maize’s face softened when she smiled at Beth, “You look like you could use something to eat. I don’t know where you live, but walking there on a full stomach would probably feel better. Besides, Maize would like the company.”

 

“Oh, no, thank you. I wouldn’t want to impose.” The sidewalk was empty except for a few people standing outside a building across the street. Beth stood and glanced down the dimly lit street, checking for police cars or a beat cop.

 

“You’re safe with me. The locals all know me, and they won’t bother us. Come across the street and have something to eat. It’s not fancy, but it’s good and hot.”

 

‘Embarrassed, Beth stuttered, “I … I don’t … I don’t have any money.” She scuffed her shoe against the ground. 

 

Maize patted Beth’s arm. “It’s okay. The meals are free.” She hooked her arm around Beth’s, and they headed across the street.

 

The sign in the window read - WOMEN'S RESCUE MISSION - Religious services, free showers, cots, and hot meals. Several women gathered at the far end of the building, cigarettes bobbing up and down as they chattered among themselves.

 

The drop-in center consisted of two large adjoining rooms. The walls were bare except for a cross and two pictures of Jesus. At the opposite end, a big-screen television hung on the wall. Dilapidated couches and chairs filled the other room. In one corner, a woman and her children put a puzzle together at a card table. A ripped garbage bag with clothes hanging out and a child sleeping on it nestled against the wall nearby. In the other room, people sat quietly at long rows of tables and chairs, intent on eating their meal. Beth could smell food cooking in the nearby kitchen.

 

Beth cowered in the doorway. She feared the mission, but she feared the streets more. She lowered her head, afraid to look anyone in the eyes. 

 

Maize tugged on Beth’s arm, “Come on. No one’s going to hurt you. Let’s wash up a little, and then we can get you a hot meal.”  Maize flashed a smile, and Beth noticed she had several teeth missing. “Look like a pumpkin, don’t I?” Maize offered a hearty laugh.

 

Beth couldn’t help but chuckle. “I hadn’t noticed.” 

 

“Yeah, right.” Maize laughed, “It’s okay because Maize’s beauty is in here where it counts.” She patted her chest. “Now come on, girl, before they eat all the food.”

 

The aroma drifted past Beth’s nose, and she inhaled deeply. Her empty stomach growled. “I guess I am hungry. It smells so good.”

 

“Then hurry up, let’s get washed up and get some of that chow.” The two shuffled off to the restroom, arm in arm as if they’d known each other for years.

 

***********

 

The mission opened daily at 7 AM, but the street people started lining up at 5 AM. Beds were a premium and handed out on a first-come basis. Small cubicles on the second floor were assigned to women with children. The dining room converted into a bedroom at night; the single women were given cots placed two feet apart. Maize had claimed one of those cots, but tonight, she would surrender it to the exhausted young girl she had befriended. It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last. 

 

“I can’t take your bed, Maize. I can sleep on the floor or in a chair.” Beth protested when Maize told her to sleep on the cot. 

 

“No, child, I have another one over there. Don’t you worry about me. Just lay your sleepy head down and get some rest.” 

 

Exhausted, Beth couldn’t wait to lie down, but she didn’t want to take Maize’s bed either. “Are you sure? You have a place to sleep, right?”

 

“Don’t you worry. Maize will be just fine.” She pulled the thin army blanket over Beth and realized the young girl had fallen asleep. “Good night, sweetie.”

 

After walking up and down several aisles, stopping to chat with a few regulars, and checking on ones she didn’t know, Mazie left the dining room. She walked down a long, narrow hallway and stopped at the red door. The printed sign on the door read Storage Room Authorized Personnel Only. Maize pulled a key from her dress pocket and unlocked the door. Once inside, she shuffled across the room to a wooden desk. She turned on the desk lamp and lowered herself into the chair.

 

It had been a long day. She slipped off her shoes and rubbed her aching feet. She needed to change socks; her big toe was protruding from a large hole. She’d mended it several times, but it looked like it was past the point of repair.

 

Maize’s eyes were beginning to droop. She needed some rest too, but first, she had one more thing to do. She reached into the desk drawer and pulled out a cell phone. She opened it and dialed a number.

 

On the third ring, someone answered, “Hello.”

 

“I know it’s late, but I thought I’d better call.”

 

“What is it, Maize? Another young girl?”

 

“Yup, the poor little thing was exhausted. She’s real skittish, and I’m guessing she won’t hang around long.”

 

“Any idea on her story? Drugs? Streetwalker?”

 

“No, not this one. She might be a runaway, but she’s new at it if she is. Her face is familiar, but I haven’t figured out where I saw her yet.”

 

“Do you need me to come tonight?”

 

“Nah, she’s out for the count. First thing in the morning oughtta be good.”

 

“Save a blueberry muffin for me. Goodnight, Maize, and thanks for calling.”

 

“You know, I’m always here to help.” Maize sighed, “See you in the morning, Bert.”

Author Notes

Dwight Culbertson - a violent drunk and father Beth - the sixteen yr old daughter of Dwight Culbertson Rachel - Beth's best friend and confidant Ethan - upstanding, good-hearted college basketball star Tyson - Ethan's best friend and college basketball jock, who believes in self-survival Jesse - A risky choice of friends for Tyson and bartender at Last Chance Miguel - Jesse's partner in crime Roberta - (Bert) Caseworker Virginia (Gigi) - caseworker and sidekick to Bert Chief Pat O'Shea Sergeant Triston Hall Detective Ric Santiago Nathan Rotello - trucking company owner Maize - homeless lady at the mission

Chapter 14
On the Edge of Deception Pg 14

By Begin Again

 

Where did he go? 

 

Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest. She sensed someone lurking in the shadows. Her eyes darted around the pitch-black room, frantically searching. Something moved, and then it was gone.

 

Her breathing was ragged. Her nostrils flared at the smell of stale cigarettes. She coughed. She felt an unshaven face against her tender cheeks and gagged at the smell of his 80-proof breath.

 

Wait! There’s someone with him. The woodsy smell of cologne washed over her. Her stomach churned and twisted into knots. He grabbed her from behind and pinned her to the cot. His left hand pressed against her mouth while his right one ripped her blouse. She struggled to get free. His salacious grin mocked her. “You’re mine, remember?”

 

“No, no, no.” Beth moaned and tossed frantically on her cot. “ Please, stop.” Her voice turned to a whimper,  “Ethan, help me!”

 

The woman next to her reached out and shook her. Beth jerked to an upright position, clutching the thin blanket, shivering in terror. She was confused, disoriented.

 

“It’s alright, honey. You’re having a nightmare.” The woman rolled over on her cot but added, “It’s early. Try to get some sleep.”

 

The delicious aroma of baking bread drifted in the air. Beth heard rattling noises from the kitchen, the preparation of the morning meal. A faint light exposed the hallway and a large red arrow with the word restrooms painted in white. Beth eased off the cot and headed that way.

 

Once inside, she locked the door. It was a small room with a walk-in shower, a sink hanging on the wall, and the commode. A small table held a stack of thread-bare towels and washcloths. Tiny bars of soaps filled a basket. Some combs, toothbrushes, and a can of Febreze filled the rest of the shelf. 

 

A roach scurried across the floor. Beth yanked her backpack up from the floor and hung it on a hook. “Sorry, Mr. Cockroach, I’m traveling light and not with the likes of you.” She shivered and scanned the tiles for any other visitors.

 

She eyed the shower, imagining the warm water cleansing the sweat and grime away. In the end, she settled for a quick wash in the sink. The water wasn’t even lukewarm, but it still felt refreshing. Every sound in the hallway made her jump. She slipped the used bar of soap into her bag; then decided no one would miss another one. She took it and placed it in the zippered pouch, too. 

 

Returning to the dining room, she looked around for Maize. Most everyone was still asleep. A few sat on their cots, listening to music or reading. The kitchen staff had set out baskets of fresh muffins and a bowl of fruit. Beth moved closer to the counter.

 

“Would you like a muffin, dear? How about an orange or a banana?”  A woman behind the counter smiled, the gesture warm and inviting

 

“May I?” Beth shyly asked.

 

“Of course, child. Take whatever you want.” The woman moved the basket of muffins closer to Beth. “ Looks like you’ve missed a few meals.” 

 

Beth nodded and then chose a blueberry muffin. “It smells so good.” 

 

“Freshly baked by yours truly this morning.” She smiled again. “Don’t forget some fruit for later.”

She turned and walked back toward the kitchen area.

 

Beth looked around to see if anyone was watching, then shoved a banana and an orange into the backpack. With no sighting of Maize, she moved toward the door. People were waking up and roaming around the room. Beth felt uncomfortable and stepped outside..

 

As she stepped out onto the sidewalk, involuntarily, she breathed in the crisp morning air. The dawning sun was peeking over the tops of the buildings, casting a pink glow across the clouds. 

 

“Miss, you know if they’re serving breakfast yet?” 

 

Beth turned toward the voice, surprised to see a line of people forming outside the mission door.

She shook her head in response. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a police officer chatting with several people in the line. She didn’t want to draw attention, so she moved toward the other end of the building.

What if someone remembered her face? It was time to go!

 

She walked briskly away from the mission, keeping her face turned away from anyone passing by. She didn’t know where she would end up, but she had to leave Maize and the mission behind.

 

**********

 

Bert wanted to get to the mission before going to work. She was dressed and ready to go by 6 AM. Gulping down the last of her coffee, she grabbed her briefcase and purse, turned on the answering machine, and headed for the car. 

 

She hated driving the government car. Its presence in the neighborhood put everyone on edge, labeling her the bad guy. As she pulled to the curb, she could feel all the eyes giving her the once-over. When she reached the sidewalk, she could hear the murmurs, guessing why she would be there so early in the morning, assuming it wasn’t good. 

 

She approached the mission doorway, spotted the patrol officer and waved, before entering. 

 

Maize spotted Bert as she entered the mission. She shuffled across the room and waved for Bert to follow. Down the hallway, she unlocked the room marked Storage and allowed Bert to step inside. 

 

“Bert, I should have called you. She’s gone.”  Maize shook her head. “I knew she was frightened, but I figured she’d stick around for breakfast at least.”

 

“It’s okay, Maize.” Bert sat on one of the crates. “We can’t get to them all.”

 

“I gave her a cot right next to Bessie, someone to keep an eye on her. Around four this morning, I guess she was thrashing around and moaning. Bessie says the girl was frightened of someone, begging them to stop. She called out for Ethan to help her.”

 

Bert took out her notepad. “Can you give me a description at all?”

 

“Sure, we ate together, and I was watching her real close. I could tell the youngin’ was scared. She didn’t look like no crackhead, and I didn’t get any vibes like she’d been turnin’ tricks or anything. Ole Maize’s got a good eye for those folks.”

 

“What can you tell me, Maize?”

 

“She’s about five foot six; sandy blonde hair pulled back in a short ponytail near the nape of her neck. Sad blue eyes, fair complected. Wore blue jeans, a white blouse, and a dark gray hoodie.”

 

“That’s great, Maize.” Bert reached into her briefcase and pulled out a folder. Opening it, she showed a picture to Maize, “If you see this young gir-”

 

“That’s her, Bert. That’s the girl who was here last night.” Maize grabbed the picture from Bert. “I’d recognize her anywhere.”

 

Bert covered her face with her hands and exhaled deeply, “You’re sure?”

 

“I’m sure, Bert. Why? Is the girl in trouble?”

 

“She sure is, Maize. And I want to find her before Chief O’Shea does.” Bert slipped the picture back into the folder. “I doubt she’ll be back, but keep your eyes open, Maize.”

 

“I sure will, Bert. Sorry, she slipped out on me this morning.”

 

“I know.” She stood to leave, “Got a meeting with her best friend, Rachel, this morning. Maybe I can find out a little more about our girl.” Bert waved goodbye and returned to her car. 

 

“Beth, stay safe till I can catch up with you.” Bert made the sign of the cross, whispered, “Amen.” and pulled the car into traffic. 

Chapter 15
On the Edge of Deception Pg 15

By Begin Again

After suffering the consequences of a physical beating from her father, with a belt, Beth Culbertson decides she will not take any more abuse and runs away, but the father has a different story to tell.






Ethan checked his phone, “Come on, Ty, you can’t still be mad at me, can you?” Since they’d shared punches and Tyson stormed out, Ethan had not been able to reach his friend. It didn’t make sense; something was wrong.

 

Ethan opened his front door to leave, almost slamming into a man in a suit. 

 

He flashed his badge.

 

“Detective Ric Santiago. Are you Ethan Willmington?”

 

“Yes, sir. What can I do for you?”  

 

“Could I step in for a minute?”

 

“Actually, I have an appointment in forty-five minutes. Is this necessary?”

 

“Yes, sir, I believe it is. Do you know Tyson Jamison?”

 

“Ty? Of course, I do. What’s this about, Detective? Is Ty okay?”

 

“I’m afraid not. Ty was in an automobile accident last night and is unconscious in the ICU at Mercy Hospital.” Ric felt sorry for the young man. "May I come in, and we can sit down and talk?"
 

Ethan stepped aside and allowed the detective to enter. "Please sit down over here." Both of them chose chairs, and then Ethan continued to question Ric, “Tyson Jamison? Are you sure? He doesn’t even own a car”.
 

“We verified with his license and a card he carried with your name and address.”

 

“Where did this happen? Whose car was it? Is he going to be alright?” Ethan was filled with questions.

 

“Ethan, the car your friend was driving was a stolen Suburban. We found boxes of oxycontin.”

 

“No, No, No… impossible. Not Tyson. There must be some mistake.” 

 

“We believe the Oxycontin was from a hijacked truck. There are three bodies in the morgue.”

 

Ethan jumped from his chair and started pacing back and forth, running his fingers through his hair. “Bodies? You’re crazy.” 

 

“How long have you known him?” Ric watched Ethan’s reactions to each question.

 

“We grew up together. Ty’s been part of my life forever.” Ethan slumped into the recliner and buried his face in his hands. “Something’s not right. It can’t be Tyson.”

 

“Why don’t we go down to headquarters and see if we can work through some of this.”

 

“No, I have to see him. We fought over something stupid. He took off, and I tried calling him. Oh, my God, if this is my fault.”

 

“Ethan, it was a hijacking and a car crash; unless there’s something you aren’t telling me, it can’t be your fault. I’m told he was pretty hammered.”

 

“Tyson wouldn’t do this. I know it.” 

 

“I understand he’s your friend, but the evidence speaks for itself.”

 

“No, something’s not right. I’ll get a private investigator and the best lawyer in town. My friend isn’t going down for something he didn’t do.” Ethan’s anger was building, and he moved closer to Ric. “I know how you guys are. Want a quick solution so you’ll railroad, my friend.”

 

“Ethan, calm down. I’m not that kind of guy.” Ric took a step away, allowing Ethan time to breathe. “Matter of fact, I know a top-notch private investigator if you really want one.”

 

“Want one. Give me his name and number; I’ll call him right now.”

 

“I’m meeting him in a few. You can come with me if you’d like, but I thought you had an appointment.”

 

“Oh, gosh, I forgot. I’m meeting Rachel.”

 

“Can I drop you somewhere? After all, it’s my fault you’re late.” Ric smiled. “Where do you have to go?”

 

“DCFS … Roberta Atwell. I’m pretty sure that’s her name.”

 

“Bert? She’s a great friend of mine. Tell her you’re late because of me, okay?” Ric walked to the door. “We still need to talk later, but you can see Bert first. I don’t want her chewing me out for keeping her appointments from showing up.” They both laughed and walked out the door. 

 

***********

 

“Come in, Rachel. Have a seat.” Bert smiled at the young girl. She remembered how nervous she’d been with Beth at the house.

 

Rachel stood in the doorway, looking at Bert and then down the hallway. She’d expected Ethan to take the lead, and now he wasn’t here. She wanted to turn around and leave.

 

“Is something wrong, Rachel?” Bert spoke softly, hoping to calm her nerves.

 

“My friend was going to meet me here, but I don’t see him. I guess he changed his mind.”

 

“Maybe he’s just running late. Come on in and sit down.” She was curious what the two had to offer and whether they’d seen Beth. “Can I get you something to drink?”

 

Rachel shook her head. She folded her hands in her lap, fidgeting with a stray thread on her skirt. She glanced down the hallway, hoping to see Ethan, but no one was there.

 

Bert decided to break the ice herself. “Rachel, have you seen Beth?”

 

Startled, Rachel shook her head vigorously. “No, no, I haven’t seen her.” She couldn’t lift her eyes to look at Bert. She felt so ashamed of how she’d treated her friend. Beth needed her, and she’d turned her back on her. Bert picked up on the escalation of fear.

 

“It’s okay if you have seen her, you know. Beth needs friends to help her.” Bert waited to see if she’d get a response. When Rachel continued to rub her hands together, she pressed a little harder. “I want to help Beth, but I can’t do it alone. I thought since you were best friends, she might have contacted you.”

 

Rachel shook her head. She decided Ethan wasn’t coming, and she couldn’t do this alone. “I can’t - Ethan’s not here. Is it okay if we make another appointment?” She stood and moved toward the door.

 

“Rachel, don’t you want to help Beth?” Bert wasn’t sure what was going on in the young girl’s head, but she knew it wasn’t something good. “I think Beth would do that for you.”

 

Rachel’s lip quivered. She raised her head and looked at Bert before bursting into tears.

“She would! But now she hates me.”

 

“Why would Beth hate you? I’m sure you're mistaken.” Bert needed answers, but Rachel wasn’t too forthcoming.

 

“If your best friend refused to help you and she accused you of doing all the things everyone is saying, wouldn’t you hate her?” Rachel tried to choke back the tears.

 

“Did you do that, Rachel?”

 

“Yes, and I’m sorry. I was afraid. My parents said it was true, and they refused to let me see or talk to Beth again.”

 

“Did you talk to her?”

 

“Yes, she needed my help, and I told her no. I left clothes for her in the park, but I said I couldn’t do anything else. Later, I felt terrible, and I called her back, but it was too late.”

 

“How did you call her back? Did you know where she was?”

 

“She used someone’s phone, and when I called back, Ethan answered.”

 

An alarm went off in Bert’s head. “Who’s Ethan?”

 

“He’s supposed to be here. 

 

A knock on the door startled Rachel, and she jumped. The door opened, and Ethan stuck his head inside. “Sorry, I heard Rachel’s voice. I’m Ethan. I’m sorry I’m late but your friend, Ric, showed up at my door this morning. He said to tell you it’s his fault.”

 

Bert chuckled. “Would you like to join us? Come in.” She moved around the desk and closed the door before introducing herself to Ethan, “I’m Roberta Atwell. My friends call me Bert.”

 

Ethan looked at Rachel. Tears streaked her face, and she was trembling. “You okay? Did you tell her?”

 

Rachel shook her head vigorously. “Only the part where I didn’t help Beth. Some friend I turned out to be.” She started to cry again, and Bert handed her a box of kleenex.

 

“We’re going to find her, Rach. You’ll be able to tell her that you’re sorry, but first, we need Ms. Atwell -”

 

“Bert - you can both call me Bert.” She smiled at the two young people. “Now Ethan, how did you come to know Beth, and have you seen her?”

 

“My friend, Tyson -” Ethan choked, remembering his best friend was fighting for his life. An alarm went off in Bert’s head again. “We were shooting hoops, and the ball got away from us. She was hiding beneath the bushes, and it scared her. Ty thought she was trouble, and he wanted us to leave, but I couldn’t. She was hurt real bad.”

 

“Hurt?” Several alarms were ringing in Bert’s head. How did Beth get hurt?

 

“Yeah, someone messed her up. It looked like a belt, but I didn’t know for sure. She was too weak to walk or talk. I live across from the park, so I carried her to my house, cleaned the wounds, and let her sleep in my guest room.”

 

“And?” Bert pressed for details. She needed to know everything if they were going to find Beth first.

 

“In the morning, I went to the press conference. I wanted to hurt that man in the wheelchair, saying all the stuff about Beth. I didn’t even know her, but she couldn’t have done it. Someone beat her instead.”

 

"After the press conference, I went to class. I guess that’s when Beth called Rachel. In the meantime, Ty dropped Jesse off at my house while he went to class.”

 

“Who’s this Jesse guy? A friend of yours?” 

 

“No way! He’s a real jerk.” Ethan stopped talking, looking at Rachel for a moment. He nibbled on his lip. He wondered how much he should say.

 

“Go ahead, Ethan. She needs to know.” Rachel appeared calmer now that Ethan was there. 

 

“What is it, Ethan?”

 

“When Ty and I got back, Beth was gone, and Jesse too. I found blood on the sheets. I’m thinking… well, I don’t know, but he might have raped her.”

 

Bert closed her eyes, trying to compose herself. First, Beth is beaten and then raped. No wonder she was hiding from everyone. She needed to find Beth and do it fast.

 

“Is there anything else?”

 

They both shook their heads. 

 

“Okay, but neither of you has seen or heard from her since, is that correct?”

 

 Ethan and Rachel shook their heads. 

 

“You both did the right thing, coming to me. I’ll contact Ric at RPD and get him working on a few things. We’re going to find her. It’s going to be okay.”

 

Bert wasn’t so sure, but she knew the two young people sitting across from her desk didn’t need to hear that. The streets weren’t kind to the weak, and right now, Beth had to be at her lowest point ever.

Author Notes

Dwight Culbertson - a violent drunk and father Beth - the sixteen yr old daughter of Dwight Culbertson Rachel - Beth's best friend and confidant Ethan - upstanding, good-hearted college basketball star Tyson - Ethan's best friend and college basketball jock, who believes in self-survival Jesse - A risky choice of friends for Tyson and bartender at Last Chance Miguel - Jesse's partner in crime Roberta - (Bert) Caseworker Virginia (Gigi) - caseworker and sidekick to Bert Chief Pat O'Shea Sergeant Triston Hall Detective Ric Santiago Nathan Rotello - trucking company owner Maize - homeless lady at the mission this is a humdrum chapter but I couldn't figure any other way to connect Ethan to Ric and Bert....without meeting and discussing the situation. Now Bert is starting to see the connection between all of them. thanks for taking the time to read it.

Chapter 16
On the Edge of Deception Pg 16

By Begin Again

After suffering the consequences of a physical beating from her father, with a belt, Beth Culbertson decides she will not take any more abuse and runs away, but the father has a different story to tell.


 

“Nate, there’s a Detective Santiago here to see you.”

 

Nate attempted to straighten his desk before the detective arrived. The bags beneath his eyes from lack of sleep last night said it all. The people who worked for him were family; last night, he’d lost one of them. And there’d been another hijacking.

 

Ric rapped his knuckles against the open door. “Good morning, Nate.”

 

“Good morning, Ric. Come in. Have a seat.”  A tray with a carafe of coffee and cups sat on the credenza behind him. “I don’t know about you, but I’m too old for all-nighters. Would you like some coffee? It’s strong but a good blend.”

 

“Sure, thanks.” 

 

Nate poured two cups and set one in front of Ric. “Need cream or sugar?”

 

“No, black's fine.” Ric took a swallow and made a slight grimace. “Yup, I think a spoon would stand straight up in the cup.”

 

Nate chuckled. “Would you prefer something else? I’m sure I can rustle up a bottle of water or soda.”

 

“Thanks, but as my dad would say, it’s good for what ails you.” Ric smiled, “Gets you going.”

 

“Heard anything more on the case?” Nate sighed, “Went over to the Halsted home this morning. Her mom and sister are helping with the family, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I told her not to worry about the funeral expenses. I’ll pick up all the cost.” 

Ric tried the coffee one more time and finally decided against it. He sat his cup on the table next to him.

Nate pushed his chair back and walked over to the window, staring across the parking lot. “That makes three hijackings in six months. Our routes and times are confidential. I don’t understand how this is happening.”  He returned to his chair and folded his hands on top of the desk, “We’ve got to get answers, Ric. I can’t tell another wife or mother something's happened. I can’t!”

 

“I know you’ve done your best to keep everyone safe, Nate, but in my opinion, there’s a leak somewhere.”

 

“A leak? You think one of my people is behind this?” Nate’s fist hit the desk. “You’re wrong.”

 

Peter Rotello, Nate’s son, tapped on the door and entered, “Behind what, Dad? You’re about to pop a cork.”

 

“Peter, this is Detective Ric Santiago. Ric, this is my son, Peter.” The two men shook hands; one firmly, the other seemed less interested.

 

“Dad, what’s wrong? Why is Detective Santiago here?” Peter looked from one man to the other, waiting for an answer.

 

“Sit down, Peter.” Nate indicated a chair next to Ric.

 

“I’d rather stand.” His face tensed, and his eyes shifted back and forth between his dad and the detective.

 

“There was another hijacking last night out on old Highway 251. Things went bad, real bad. Three men were killed, including our driver, John Halsted.”

 

“Killed? What happened? What about the shipment?”

 

“That’s another story. Another young man is in ICU in critical condition. He crashed his vehicle about three miles from the hijacking. The cargo area was filled with boxes of Oxycontin.”

 

“Well, he got what he deserved.” Peter snarled.

 

“Peter, don’t talk like that. Nobody deserves to die.”

 

“He should have thought about that before he tried ripping us off.” Peter extended his hand to Ric, “Nice to meet you, Mr. -”

 

“Detective.” Ric firmly gripped Peter’s hand and shook it. “Detective Ric Santiago. I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

 

“You’ll have to excuse me. I’ve got work to do.” Turning toward his father, he added,  “Dad, keep me informed, okay?”  He quickly left the office.

 

Ric stood up and stretched his long legs. “Nate, I need you to think about what I said. Get back to me with any names you think could be behind this.”

 

“I will, Ric, but it’s not coming from this end. My people are loyal, and they know what’s at stake.”

 

“I understand, Nate. Just let me or the Chief know if you come across anything.”

 

They shook hands, and Ric left the office, wondering how father and son could be so different.

 

**********

 

Ethan approached the police officer posted outside Tyson’s room. The ICU was cold and sterile. The nurse at the front desk had given him a pass so he would be allowed to see Ty for ten minutes. The officer studied the access pass Ethan handed him and then let him enter the room.

The gravity of Ty’s condition met him full force as he walked into the hospital room. Gauze covered almost every inch of Ty’s lifeless body except for the leg and arm in casts. His head was a turban with two eyes, two nostrils, and a mouth. Monitors beeped, air pumps breathed, and numerous colored bags slowly dripped into the IV.  

 

“Oh my God, Ty, what have you done to yourself?”  Ethan pulled the chair closer to the side of the bed. His stomach was doing somersaults. “Man, I hope you can hear me. You have to wake up. The police are saying all kinds of trash about you. You have to tell them it isn’t so.

 

“Listen, I know you didn’t steal a car, and I certainly know you had nothing to do with that hijacking. But it doesn’t make any difference if we can’t prove it. What were you doing, and how did you end up driving a stolen car?

 

“And look at you, man. “ Ethan reached out and touched Ty's arm. He made several short, quick gasps, struggling for air.

 

“I tried to call you, but you didn’t answer. I wanted to tell you I was sorry. I’m praying you didn’t end up doing something stupid just because you were mad at me. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. Do you hear me, Ty? You have to fight to get better. I’ll get you a private detective and the best lawyer in town. We can fight this, but first, you have to wake up.

 

“Please, Ty, you’re my best friend. I need you to wake up.” He rested his head on the edge of the bed. 

 

The police officer tapped on the door and then opened it. “I’m sorry, sir, but your ten minutes are up.”

 

Ethan nodded and stood next to the bed, squeezing Tyson’s hand. “Ty, don’t you check out on me. Remember all the plans we made. We’re still going to do them, you hear me? You have to want to live, Ty, so fight … fight like hell; if not for you, then do it for me. I need you to get better. They say I have to go now, but I’ll be back. Hang in there, okay?”

 

Tears ran down his face. “I’m not saying goodbye, you hear me? It’s not goodbye, Ty. I love you.” He squeezed his friend’s hand one last time and left the room.

 

**********

 

The Last Chance was deserted. Besides Dwight and Nancy, there’d only been a handful of customers all night. Dwight spun his beer bottle around on the top of the bar. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. When Nancy didn’t talk, trouble was brewing somewhere.

 

“How come you’re bartending tonight?” Dwight asked the question but didn’t stop spinning the empty bottle. “Where’s Jesse?”

 

“What you asking me for? I’m not his keeper.” Nancy’s voice was edgy.

 

“No, but you are his boss. I just thought he might have told you why he wasn’t here.”

 

“It’s not a big deal. Haven’t got any customers anyhow.”  Nancy set another beer in front of him. “Just drink your beer and shut up.”

 

“Aren’t we touchy? I was just makin’ conversation. Sorry, I asked.” Dwight tipped back the bottle and let the cool liquid run down his throat. 

 

“Now, Dwight, honey -” The phone rang, and Nancy walked to the end of the bar and answered it.

 

“Last Chance. Nancy speaking.”

 

“What the hell happened out there?” the voice on the other end snapped. “There’s three, maybe four people dead.”

 

“I don’t know.” Nancy turned and smiled at Dwight, puckering her lips to form a kiss. “It’s not a good time.”

 

“Not a good time!” The man on the other end of the line sounded ballistic. “A detective was asking questions at the plant.”

 

“Calm down. Nothing connects to us.” Nancy turned away from Dwight, whispering, “I told you now isn’t a good time. Call me tomorrow.” She hung up and moved back down the bar to Dwight.

 

Dwight picked up Nancy’s hand and stroked the back of it with his finger. “What was that all about, Sweetie?”

 

“What? Oh, the phone call. Nothing, just one of the beer distributors trying to push a new product. I told him I wasn’t interested, but he didn’t want to take no for an answer.”

 

Dwight eyed her. He could tell she was nervous. “Probably one of your boyfriends looking to move in on my territory.”

 

“Dwight ..."

 

The shrill ring of the phone startled Nancy. She tried to ignore the call. “Aren’t you going to answer it?” Dwight asked.

 

“Oh, sure I am. Guess I was daydreaming about us.” She turned and went to answer the phone.

 

“Last Chance. Nancy speaking.”

 

“The last woman that hung up on me is dead.”

 

“My, my, aren’t we feisty tonight. We both know you’re all talk.” She laughed,."I told you to call me tomorrow. Goodnight, Peter.” She hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and turned around. “Oh! My God, you scared the crap out of me. Sneaking up on a girl like that.”  She wrapped her arms around Dwight’s neck and kissed him. “You weren’t listening to my conversation now, were you?”

 

“Uuuff! What do I care about a beer salesman? I wanted to get my arms around you.”

They both laughed, but neither believed the other one.

 

Now, what’s she hiding, and who’s Peter?
Dwight picked up his beer and took a long swallow. She’s hiding something.

 

Author Notes

Dwight Culbertson - a violent drunk and father Beth - the sixteen yr old daughter of Dwight Culbertson Rachel - Beth's best friend and confidant Ethan - upstanding, good-hearted college basketball star Tyson - Ethan's best friend and college basketball jock, who believes in self-survival Jesse - A risky choice of friends for Tyson and bartender at Last Chance Miguel - Jesse's partner in crime Roberta - (Bert) Caseworker Virginia (Gigi) - caseworker and sidekick to Bert Chief Pat O'Shea Sergeant Triston Hall Detective Ric Santiago Nathan Rotello - trucking company owner Peter Rotello - Nate's son Maize - homeless lady at the mission

Chapter 17
On the Edge of Deception Pg 17

By Begin Again

After suffering the consequences of a physical beating from her father, with a belt, Beth Culbertson decides she will not take any more abuse and runs away, but the father has a different story to tell


 

Today was Cynthia Culbertson’s birthday. 

 

Cynthia’s life had been a troubled one. She married Dwight at a young age. He was a smooth talker in his younger years, knowing exactly how to wine and dine the women. Later, after having a child, her life was torn between her daughter and her alcoholic husband. In the end, the alcohol destroyed them both, leaving their daughter lost, afraid, and on the run.

 

Beth entered the cemetery. She took extra precautions in case someone was watching. She was learning that being on the run wasn’t easy. Not seeing another person or a car anywhere, she walked hastily to her mother’s gravestone. 

 

"She knelt and with tears forming in her eyes, ran her fingers over her Mom's engraved name. As she attempted to speak, the rush of tears overflowed and she fell against the headstone, sobbing.

 

“Happy Birthday, Mom.” 

 

She placed a wilted white rose at the foot of the stone.  “Sorry, it’s wilted. I couldn’t buy you one, so I picked it from the trash can.” She sniffed and wiped her face with her hand. “I need you so much. Dad’s drinking is much worse. He’s acting like a lunatic. There’s a warrant for my arrest. They want to put me in jail for something I didn’t do.” 

 

In vain, she tried to stifle her tears. “Mom, he put his filthy paws on me. I tried to reason with him, but he beat me with his belt. I didn’t know what to do so I ran away.

 

“I know you’re mad at Dad. I am, too! I was going to go back, but then something else happened.” Beth paused, struggling to catch her breath. 

 

Visions of the rape flashed through her mind. Her body shook with fear. She didn’t know if she could even voice the following words. “Mom, I feel stupid. You taught me to protect myself, but I couldn’t. I tried, but I failed.” She allowed her tears to flow before she found the strength to continue, “A stranger raped me. It was disgusting. I was never so afraid in my whole life; not even Dad’s beatings compared.” Her body shuddered. Her voice sounded more like a moan, “ I don’t know what to do. Even Rachel turned her back on me.  I’m lost without her.”

 

“I’m right here, Beth.” 

 

Beth screamed at the sound of another voice. Her body lurched, and she jumped to her feet, ready to run.

 

Standing three feet away was her best friend, with sobs racking her body. The two girls ran to each other and tightly embraced, holding on as if their lives depended on it. Finally, they separated but remained holding hands.

 

“Oh, Beth, can you forgive me? I’m so sorry for not being there for you when you needed me.”

 

“You’re my best friend, Rach. Of course, I forgive you. I’ve missed you so much.”

 

“I missed you too. I’ve been worried sick.” She paused, wondering how Beth would react to her next sentence. “Ethan and I saw Bert. She believes you’re innocent, Beth. You should talk to her.”

 

“She’s got a job to do, Rach. She’d have to turn me in. I don’t want to go to jail.” She looked at her mother’s grave and then back at Rachel. “How’d you find me, anyhow?” 

 

“Silly. I am your best friend, and I happen to know it’s your mom’s birthday. I knew you would come, so I called in sick to school and waited.”

 

“I’m glad you did.”

 

“So, what are you going to do? You can’t stay living out here by yourself. Please, go see Bert or let me have her meet you somewhere.”

 

“Maybe, you’re right. Mom wouldn’t like me on the streets.” Beth took a long breath and exhaled. “I guess I should go see Dad first.”

 

“No, no, no. Absolutely not. Stay away from that lunatic. Your dad’s told so many lies.”

 

“But he knows I know the truth.” Beth bit her lip and stared off across the cemetery. “Maybe if he sees me, he’ll drop the nonsense, and everything will be okay.”

 

“Please, don’t do anything stupid, Beth.”

 

“Rach, he’s my dad. The alcohol made him go crazy. I should give him a chance to make amends, shouldn’t I?”  

 

“Well, maybe. But take Bert or Ethan with you. They can protect you.”

 

“Dad would get defensive. His temper would flare, and things would get worse than they are, if that’s at all possible.”

 

“Beth, listen to yourself. You’re making excuses for the man. What he did to you is wrong.”

 

“He was drunk. I’ll go and talk to him. If he’s drunk, I’ll leave. Simple as that. It’ll be okay, Rach.”

 

“Promise me you’ll think on it.” Rachel checked her watch. “School’s out. Mom will be looking for me. Meet me back here tomorrow after school, and we’ll talk some more, okay?”

 

“Okay, I’ll meet you here tomorrow.” Beth smiled, “I’m glad you’re my best friend again, Rach.”

 

“Me, too.” She hugged Beth and then started across the cemetery, stopping once to wave goodbye.

 

**********

 

“Hey, Hank, it’s Ric. I was wondering if you have a few minutes to chat.”

 

“For you, anything.” Hank laughed. “What’s up?”

 

“Did you hear about the hijacking out on 251?”

 

“Just what the news had to offer, and I never know how much of that I can trust.”

 

“A Rotello truck, carrying a load of Oxycontin, was hijacked. Actually, something really messed up happened out there. The driver of the truck and two suspects were found dead. A third suspect left in the car loaded with Oxycontin. He crashed three miles down the road and is unconscious at Mercy. His chances of survival aren’t too good.”

 

“Any idea of what went wrong? Did the hijacking turn into three murders and a poor effort at a getaway?”

 

"Well, the kid in the coma has a clean sheet, not even a parking ticket. He was driving a stolen vehicle. His blood-alcohol level was well over the limit to be walking, let alone driving. It’s possible, but for some reason, my gut tells me otherwise. This is the third hijacking in six months. It’s got to be an inside job.”

 

“What’s Rotello got to say?”

 

“He’s in complete denial. Understandable since it is his bread and butter.” Ric cleared his throat. “I met his son, Peter, today while I was talking to Nate. A real jumpy guy.”

 

“Sounds like you could be on the right track, Ric.”

 

“Remember telling me about your last case and that guy who was undercover. Are you still in touch with him?”

 

“Garth? Sure, I am.” Hank laughed. “Garth and Katherine have Emmy and I over for dinner quite often. Their veranda at night is like sitting peacefully, staring at heaven.”

 

“Do you think you could drag him over here? Maybe figure out if the Rotello kid is involved or if it’s someone else. Fresh eyes never hurt.”

 

“I’ll give him a call and run it by him. Can’t promise anything because I don’t know if he’s in the middle of something or not.”

 

“Thanks, Hank. Let me know, okay?” Ric paused for a moment then asked, “Talked to Bert lately?”

 

“No, why?" Hank thought the question was weird since Ric was Bert's friend as well.

 

"I was just wondering if she’d gotten any further on finding the Culbertson kid.”

 

“You’re not going to tell me you believe that scumbag, are you?"

 

“No, I wasn’t. I just don’t think Bert will share any information if she finds the girl. She doesn’t have a high view of the Chief and his way of thinking.”

 

“I’ll touch base with her and let you know. In the meantime, I’ll give Garth a call.”

 

“Thanks, Hank.” Ric ended the call. 

 

I’m sticking my neck out on this one, pal. Sure hope your friend can help us. If it goes wrong... well, the Chief isn’t going to be happy.

 

**********

 

It was five in the afternoon, and Dwight had polished off a fifth of gin. He’d replenished his supply at Clancey’s, the neighborhood liquor store. As he exited the store, he bumped into another customer who was entering. 

 

“Watch where you’re going?” Dwight snarled. “You almost made me drop my crap.”

 

Preoccupied with thoughts of the hijacking, Peter muttered, “I’m sorry,” and attempted to step around Dwight.

 

Recognizing his current arch-enemy, Dwight gave him a shove, causing Peter to stumble back onto the sidewalk. “Hey, scumbag, I know you. You're the lowlife trying to hustle my woman.”

 

“Are you nuts, man? I don’t know you or your woman, I assure you.” Peter gave his clothing a once over, making sure the lowlife hadn't left any slime on him.

 

“Oh yeah, well, I heard her tell you goodnight last night.” Dwight stepped out of the doorway, so he was closer to Peter. “I’m not stupid. No woman of mine is going to be cozying up with the likes of you.” He shoved Peter again.

 

The security guard stepped out of Clancy’s. “Everything okay, Mr. Rotello?”

 

“Yeah, Frankie, the guy’s in here buying liquor, and he’s already three sheets to the wind. He’s harmless.”

 

Frankie allowed Peter to pass by into the store, and then he approached Dwight. “Count yourself lucky, man. Mr. Rotello could have your butt hauled off for assault right now. Go home and sleep it off, okay?”

 

“He’s sleeping with my woman. I have the right to protect my property.”

 

“Listen, man, go home, or I’ll arrest you for being drunk and disorderly in public.”

 

“Oh, yeah? Because he’s some rich guy?”

 

"Nope, because it’s my job to protect Clancy’s property. You get me?”

 

Losing interest, Dwight turned and walked away.

Author Notes

Dwight Culbertson - a violent drunk and father Beth - the sixteen yr old daughter of Dwight Culbertson Rachel - Beth's best friend and confidant Nancy - Owner of Last Chance and Dwight's mistress Ethan - upstanding, good-hearted college basketball star Tyson - Ethan's best friend and college basketball jock, who believes in self-survival Jesse - A risky choice of friends for Tyson and bartender at Last Chance Miguel - Jesse's partner in crime Roberta - (Bert) Caseworker Virginia (Gigi) - caseworker and sidekick to Bert Detective Ric Santiago Nathan Rotello - trucking company owner Peter Rotello - Nate's son

Chapter 18
On the Edge of Deception Pg 18

By Begin Again

After suffering the consequences of a physical beating from her father, with a belt, Beth Culbertson decides she will not take any more abuse and runs away, but the father has a different story to tell







“Man, I should have put my fist into his pearly whites.” Dwight snarled, following with a chuckle at the prospect. “Thinking he could mess with my woman. It ain’t happening on my watch.”

 

"WHOSE BED HAS YOUR BOOTS BEEN UNDER?" a cheating song by Shania Twain blasted through Dwight’s car radio speakers as he pulled into the parking lot of Last Chance. After his confrontation with Peter, his blood was percolating, and he’d worked up a head of steam. He liked to park in the back, so nobody knew he was there. As he rounded the building, he was looking forward to seeing Nancy and having a cool one.

 “What the…”   Dwight hit the gas, spinning the tires and tossing gravel across the lot. Stopping short of running over Nancy and Peter, he scrambled out of the car. “You lousy son of a bitch, I told you to stay away from my woman.” He grabbed for Peter’s suit jacket but missed as Peter stepped away.

 

“Dwight, it’s not what you think.” Nancy tried to intercept the live torpedo aimed directly at Peter.

 

“Then what is it?” Dwight’s fuse was lit, regardless of Nancy stepping between the two men. “You two out here together. Can’t talk inside? What ya trying to hide?”

 

“You’re so stupid,” Peter smirked and shook his head. “Put a leash on this clown, will you, Nancy? Or I’ll…”

 

“You’ll what, big guy? I’ll whip your ass from here to next Sunday.” Dwight tried to step around Nancy, but she grabbed him.

 

Over her shoulder, she said, “Just go, Peter. I’ll take care of this.” She tugged on Dwight’s arm, pulling him toward the door.

 

“You better.” Shooting a disgusted look at Dwight, Peter slid behind the steering wheel of his sporty red Mustang. Through the open window, he yelled to Dwight, “Sure like your beater, man. Did you lose at the demolition derby?” Laughing loudly, he put the car in reverse as Dwight charged toward the Mustang.

 

“Come on, Dwight. Let’s get a beer.” Nancy opened the backdoor of the bar. “I told you, Peter is a business partner, nothing more.”

 

“Oh yeah, well, I see him sniffing around you again, and I’m going to take care of his sorry butt.”

 

Dwight and Nancy walked into the bar.

 

Dwight slid onto a barstool, and Nancy set a cold bottle of Heineken in front of him. “Relax, sweetie. Drink your beer and cool down.”  

 

Dwight continued to nurse beers for the next several hours, finally switching to straight gin. His attitude about Nancy and Peter escalated until he shouted obscenities about cheating, loud enough for the entire place to hear.

 

“Dwight, lower your voice. Nobody cares about your wild imagination.”

 

“They should. That guy thinks he owns the world just because his daddy runs the biggest trucking business in this area. Well, he’s not messing with my woman.” Dwight spun around on the barstool and yelled, "Nobody touches my woman."

 

“Dwight, shut up!” Nancy looked at the other patrons and sheepishly shrugged her shoulders.

 

“Woman, no one tells me to shut up!” Dwight’s hand shot forward. He twisted Nancy’s arm and snarled, “Not even you. Understand?”

 

Everyone was staring at the couple. A few snickers drifted across the room. Nancy yanked her arm from Dwight’s grip. Sparks of anger flew from her green eyes. 

 

“Get out! Go sleep it off in your car or whatever, but get out, Dwight.” She grabbed the gin bottle and his beer and tossed it in one of the sinks. “You made a big mistake, Dwight. Nobody puts their hands on me unless I want them to.”

 

Dwight tried to stand, wobbling as he leaned across the bar. “Oh, kiss me, honey. You look so hot and sexy when you get mad.”

 

Nancy stepped away. Her voice was low and controlled, “Get out!” 

 

Dwight shrugged and headed for the back door, bumping against anything in his path. With his back toward Nancy, he waved in the air. “You’ll be sorry, honey.”

 

Under her breath, Nancy muttered, “Payback’s a bitch, Dwight.” She continued to wipe the bar counter, but a storm was building in her mind. She wasn't in the custom of being treated with anything but respect. Dwight Culbertson had crossed the line.

 

**********

 Exhausted from this morning’s visit with her Mom and then seeing Rachel, Beth had walked the back streets for hours. The more she thought about her situation and her dad, the more confused she became. Finally, she’d found herself standing in the Culbertson backyard, staring at the place called home. She couldn’t help but envision past birthday parties, celebrating together, back when laughter, good food, and good times surrounded their family. Life was so different when her mom was alive.

 

 Beth lay curled up on the ground next to Toby’s grave. Tears trickled down her face. “I miss you, Toby. I’m sorry about what happened to you, but honestly, I would have been terrified to leave you with Dad. I can’t even take care of myself, and you deserved better.” A long deep sigh escaped her lips. “I don’t know what to do, Toby. I talked to Mom today. I told her I was thinking about seeing Dad. I wasn’t sure, but I guess that’s why I ended up here.”

 

She sat quietly for a few minutes, staring forlornly at the house. Taking a deep breath, she stood, smiled down at Toby’s grave, and said, “Wish me luck, Toby.” She left her mother’s garden and walked warily toward the back door.

 

The age-worn steps creaked under her feet, and a cold shiver washed over her body. Was it an omen?

 

We’re a family. I need to make amends. Mom would want me to put our family together again.

 

Beth closed her eyes for a moment, "Okay, Mom, here I go." She tugged on the screen door. It had been sticking for years, but her dad never got around to the repairs. Opening the back door, she stepped into the kitchen. Her heart began to race, and her breath was ragged as she remembered the night she left. Visions of cowering in the corner, pressing her body against the cupboards, screaming for her dad to stop beating her flashed across her mind. The feeling of being trapped like an animal was more than she could stomach. Her mind said run!

  

This was a mistake. I can’t face him. I can’t. Turn around and get out while you can.

 

Afraid to turn her back on the room, she moved backward toward the door. Her hand reached behind her and wrapped around the doorknob. She'd never felt so terrified in her life.

 

The sound of her father’s voice across the kitchen stopped her. Her heart was pounding in her eardrums. Her body trembled uncontrollably. She was wrong; this moment was far worse.

 

Dwight leaned against the door frame, having continued to imbibe after leaving Last Chance. His bloodshot eyes and reddish face gave him the appearance of being Satan's twin. His gurgling laugh could have been a soundtrack from a horror movie.

 

“So, the wandering child returns to the fold,” Dwight smirked at Beth with loathing. “Women, always looking for a handout when they can’t do it on their own.” He belched disgustingly and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

 

“Da…” She gagged at saying the word. “Dad, I’m not here to fight.”

 

“Nah, just a snot nose kid who got too big for her britches.” He laughed maliciously, “Taught you a lesson though, didn’t I?”

 

“It’s ...it’s Mom’s birthday. Did you remember?”

 

“Why should I? She’s gone. No good to me anymore.” He staggered to the refrigerator in search of another beer.

 

"Don’t! Don’t talk about mom that way.” Anger began to replace her fear. “She’s the best thing that ever happened to you.”

 

“Well, it certainly wasn’t you. Got yourself in a heap of trouble.” Another hysterical laugh erupted from his vulgar mouth, followed by several smelly belches. “Expect me to save your sorry ass, do you?”

 

“I just want you to tell the truth. How could you tell people such garbage?”

 

Dwight moved across the room, using the refrigerator and table to balance himself. “My word against yours. Who do you think they’ll believe? So far, I’ve talked a good game.”

 

“I could go to the police and show them my back.”

 

“So what? You’ve been living on the streets. Some other bastard could have done it. Maybe you like’em rough.”

 

“You’re sick!” Beth yanked the door open. “I shouldn’t have come.”

 

“Where you think you’re going?” He grabbed Beth’s arm, and she struggled to loosen his grip.

 

“Stop! I’m leaving.” Her head was spinning; the dizziness threatened her consciousness. Tears clouded her vision. Short, sharp gasps of air were all she could manage as her chest tightened with fear. “Stop it! Let me go!”

 

Lust raged in Dwight’s eyes, and he yanked her against his hairy chest. “You want to make amends. Let me show you how your mother and I use to make amends.” His right hand clamped her breast and twisted. She screamed in pain and jerked. Dwight stumbled backward against the kitchen table.

 

Thoughts of survival blocked all rational decisions from Beth’s mind. She grabbed a carving knife from the wooden block next to the stove without any real plan. Squeezing it like a lifeline, she brandished it in the air, pointing it at her father. 

 

“Oh, now she’s a big bad killer.” He made an animated shiver, mocking her.“OOOO! Look, I’m scared.”

 

“Just stay away from me.” She tried to move sideways toward the door without taking her eyes off him.

 

He lunged at her, ripping her shirt with his hand as she pulled away. Her heart was pounding so hard, and she couldn’t breathe. “Come here, bitch.” Her fingers loosened, and the knife fell to the floor.

 

Panicking, she screamed. Dwight instantly retaliated with a stinging slap across her face. He pushed her, making her body bend over the tabletop while his lips slobbered against her neck.

 

The sound of someone pounding on the front door became Beth’s salvation. Dwight’s eyes widened, and he froze. Sobbing hysterically, she shoved him aside and fled out the back door. 

 

**********

 

Hank Armato knocked on the Culbertson front door again. He’d hoped to have a chance to talk to Dwight with the pretense of trying to locate his daughter. When no one answered, the PI left the porch and stepped to the side of the house, checking for a car. Instead, he saw Beth running across the yard. 

 

The gate was locked. Hank called Beth’s name, but the frightened girl disappeared into the night.

Author Notes

Dwight Culbertson - a violent drunk and father Beth - the sixteen yr old daughter of Dwight Culbertson Rachel - Beth's best friend and confidant Nancy - Owner of Last Chance and Dwight's mistress Ethan - upstanding, good-hearted college basketball star Tyson - Ethan's best friend and college basketball jock, who believes in self-survival Jesse - A risky choice of friends for Tyson and bartender at Last Chance Miguel - Jesse's partner in crime Roberta - (Bert) Caseworker Virginia (Gigi) - caseworker and sidekick to Bert Detective Ric Santiago Hank Arnato - retired detective and currently Private Investigator Nathan Rotello - trucking company owner Peter Rotello - Nate's son

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