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At First Sight

The Turtle-Dove Bar. You couldn't exactly call it a local hotspot, but it sufficed. Lawrence Cudrow reached for another salted peanut, washing it down with his already warm beer. The bar was washed in a muted orange glow, made even more ethereal by the wreaths of cigarette smoke dancing in the air. No-one at the Turtle-Dove had paid much heed when it became illegal to smoke indoors, and the bar's owner did nothing to condone such behaviour. It was a backstreet bar in a backwater town, and as far as the regulars were concerned, such trivial alterations to the law simply didn't affect them. Lawrence offered a smile to one such passing regular, and the man tipped his hat in reply. It was all a game to him, really. The game of normality. So long as he came off as a respectful, beer-drinking, bar-hopping man, the locals wouldn't suspect him too much. And that's exactly what he aimed for. In reality, all he wanted was to be at home, shut-in with his snapshots and his memories. But he didn't want to be one of those “quiet folk” that received so much abhorrence from the regulars here, and so here he was, picking stale fragments of salted peanut out of his teeth. To be different was to be a crime, as far as they were concerned, so he tried as best he could to appear at least somewhat ordinary.
The door swung open, sending plumes of cigarette smoke spiralling up into the ceiling. The soft clitter-clatter of a woman's high-heeled shoes approached, followed by a sultry cloud of perfume. Lawrence turned slightly in his stool, peering out from beneath his mop of dirty-blond hair. The girl, no more than twenty, draped herself across the bar and rang the bell that sat there.
“Pappy? Pappy are you back there?”
A rustling came from the back-room, followed by the bar owner's flustered face. Reginald Jackson he was officially called, to everyone else he was R.J.
“Tanya?” R.J's face broke into a wide smile, and flipping up the divider that separated punter from bar-tender, he pulled the girl into a long embrace. At long last he drew away, staring at her with undisguised surprise. “What are you doing here, sweetie? I thought you didn't get in until tomorrow morning?”
“I decided to get an earlier train,” she shrugged, a slight smile playing on her full lips. “I couldn't wait one more day!”
R.J chuckled to himself. “Hey everyone!”
The regulars clustered in the bar all turned to face R.J obediantly.
“This here is Tanya, my daughter. She's down here for the summer break, so y'all all treat her nicely now or you'll be hearing from me.”
Tanya laughed, a delicate tinkling noise, like bells caught in a gentle breeze. “It's so good to see you, Pappy. I'd forgotten how much of a homicidal maniac you are.”
Lawrence smirked to himself. She had no idea what a homicidal maniac was. The pair continued to whisper amongst themselves, R.J drawing Tanya behind the bar so that could adequately catch-up in peace. All the while Lawrence watched them, drinking in every detail of the girl. From her brunette waves that cascaded half-way down her back, to the soft, ivory slope of her neck, Lawrence memorised it all. It has been a while since a girl had stirred such familiar feelings deep within him, feelings he thought he'd long since forgotten how to feel. But here she was, this girl, this revelation. Tanya.

Box of Secrets

Lawrence didn't leave the bar until half-past two that morning. It was unusual for him to be one of the last people to leave, but he simply couldn't tear himself away. The longer he spent in Tanya's presence, the more he felt he had to have her. But should he – could he – really? She was R.J's daughter, a pillar of the community. She wasn't like the others, not by a long shot. And in a way, that's what made her so irresistible.
Lawrence didn't want to sleep. In fact, he couldn't. He was certain of that. Even to try would be an exercise in futility. Instead he went down into the basement, down to the third step, and pried it loose. Inside sat his Box of Secrets, a wooden box glided with elegant gold trimming on the corners and around the latch. It was the one thing on earth that kept him sane. Well, his version of sane at least.
It'd been so long since he'd felt the need to come down here, so long that he almost feared he'd never want to again. He lifted the box from its alcove and tenderly blew the dust off the top. He opened it, the harsh florescent lights that glowed above illuminating the contents within. The box had two different sections; one for photographs, one for what he called his 'souvenirs'. He pulled them each out, one by one, reliving each memory they brought, revelling in them.

The Hunt

The next night he didn't go to the Turtle-Dove. He couldn't. He'd spent the entire day sleeping, dreaming of Tanya and his Box of Secrets. Those feelings, those familiar feelings, were back even stronger than ever before. Last night had just been faint stirrings, but now they consumed him, blackening his mind with their endless forceful commands. He couldn't resist them any longer, but R.J would get over it in time, of that he was certain. He called the feelings 'Love'. They were the closest he'd ever been to being in conventional love, and he knew no better. To him, he was hopelessly, completely, truly, head-over-heels in love.
He drove to R.J's home, a quaint abode on the outskirts of town. It sat nestled amongst a grove of trees, at the base of a deep valley. The only sign of life below was a single window, glowing starkly against the inky shadow of night. R.J would be at the bar, so the light meant only one thing; Tanya.
Lawrence slid from his car, paying attention not to slam the door. His heart was pounding in his head, encouraging him with each step. Soon his footfalls were matching that of the rhythmic rush of blood in his head, the anticipation building up inside him with each passing moment.
He made his way down the steep drive, each step a careful consideration. The last thing he wanted was to alert Tanya to his presence. This wasn't his first rodeo.
Suddenly the porch light flickered on, bathing the entire yard in an obtrusive amber glare. Lawrence ducked into a patch of over-grown grass, pressing himself to the ground. He could hear Tanya step out onto the porch, before making her way toward her car. Her Toyota Corolla thrummed into life, effortlessly ferrying Lawrence's quarry away from his reach.
Lawrence broke into a run up the drive, beads of sweat standing out against his forehead. He could still make out Tanya's tail-lights on the horizon, but he didn't have long. He threw himself into his car, cursing loudly the entire time. He took off down the street after Tanya, sending up a spray of gravel in his wake.
He slammed the steering wheel with the palm of his hand, his face blooming red with fury. How could it have gone so wrong? She wasn't supposed to leave. He wasn't supposed to be following her down Cliff Street, desperately trying to keep his distance and yet wanting more than anything to be right behind her.
He trailed her at a conservative pace, every now and then letting her disappear from his view. People seemed to be very intuitive about being followed, Lawrence had learned that the hard way. He didn't want to take any chances this time, not with Tanya.
She turned onto the main road, her indicator blinking at Lawrence, taunting him. He felt another surge of rage, but suppressed it. He couldn't lose himself. He had to keep his wits about him.
Tanya pulled over outside one of the town's few fashion boutique stores. She lingered outside of it for a moment, gazing into the darkened store. Lawrence parked a few spaces behind, staying in his car until he was sure Tanya had turned away, until he was sure Tanya wouldn't see him.
Tanya walked briskly along the deserted street, her head bowed against the early-winter breeze. The only sounds were that of her boots connecting with the concrete path, and every now and then the sound of her mobile phone springing to life with a message.
Lawrence kept to the shadows, never taking his eyes from the figure before him. She was enthralling to watch, the way the street-lamps illuminated her hair, making it glow as if on fire. The way she swayed her hips as she walked, or the way her dainty hands moved by her sides. Yes, it had been a long, long time since Lawrence had had a girl like her.
Tanya's pace slowed, and she cast a tentative glance over her shoulder. Lawrence ducked into an alley-way, pressing himself so close to the brick wall he may as well have merged with it. Finally her steps resumed, and Lawrence continued his pursuit. Tanya seemed to be walking faster, her jacket wrapped tightly around her slight frame, arms encircling her ribs.
She knows

, Lawrence thought. He was right.
It was now or never, Lawrence knew. Now or he'd lose Tanya forever, he'd lose his only chance with the girl that had haunted his dreams and dominated his thoughts. Quick as a viper, he came up behind Tanya and clamped a single steel hand over her mouth. A muffled scream ensued, accompanied by the usual flailing of arms and kicking of legs. But Lawrence, being a near giant at 6'4” was no match for Tanya's petite 5'6” body. He dragged her back along the street the way they had come. Tanya continued to buck against him, and Lawrence's hand slipped. Her teeth came down hard on the soft flesh between his thumb and fore-finger, and Lawrence yelped in pain. Tanya took her chance and issued a single, shrill call for help that reverberated down the street. Lawrence replaced his hand, still throbbing with the memory of Tanya's bite, and bundled her into the back of his car. She continued to kick at him, but it was no feat for him to overpower her. He secured a gag to stifle her ceaseless noise, and bound her arms and legs with rope.
He clamoured into the driving seat, pausing to inspect the wound to his hand. Droplets of blood gleamed on the white skin, and a purplish bruise was already igniting beneath. He grumbled to himself as he wiped the blood away on the front of his shirt.
He drove where he always took the girls, although it'd been a while since he'd been down this route. The town eventually faded away into open fields, the open fields melting into tall, unhindered forest.
Lawrence turned into a thin dirt road, enclosed on all sides by statuesque trees, their weeping branches casting finger-like tendrils of leaves down from the sky. Tanya's struggling had begun to quieten, and Lawrence's seat no longer shook against the force of her thrashing body. They always tired themselves out in that way, and Lawrence often wondered why they didn't conserve their energy for the eventual destination he took them to. He supposed he'd never know.
The forest broadened before the beams of Lawrence's headlights, exposing a vast clearing. A shimmering lake sat in its centre, reflecting soft moonlight from its still surface. Every now and then gentle ripples would emerge, prompted by the movement of small amphibians below.
Lawrence parked the car in his usual place, now over-grown with weeds and wild-flowers. In the day this place would be quite beautiful, but in the night like this it seemed ghostly, perhaps haunted by Lawrence's former conquests.
Lawrence grabbed hold of Tanya's bound ankles and dragged her from the car. She landed on the ground with a dull thud, and let out a soft groan from behind her gag. Lawrence dropped to his knees beside her, running an outstretched hand through her hair, now tangled and splayed out around her like a halo. She shuddered against his touch, goose-flesh erupting in its wake. A single tear glittered on her cheek, catching the blue moonbeams cast down from the sky.
Lawrence continued to trace her body with his hand, feeling almost giddy with the very feel of her. He got to his feet again and went to the boot of his car. He withdrew a small black duffel bag, and dumped it down beside her. From within he took out an old polaroid camera, held it close to her face, and took a snapshot. The clearing burst to life momentarily, everything glowing with the camera's white light. Then the shutter fell shut and the forest descended into darkness once more. The camera whirred as it printed out the picture, and Lawrence cast it to the ground. He took another and another, photographing every inch of Tanya's body, her frightened face.
When he deemed the moment utterly captured, he replaced the camera in the bag and took out a nylon cord. Lawrence traced the curve of Tanya's neck with his fingers, feeling a rush of euphoria as he did so. He could feel the surge of a pulse beneath her fragile skin and smiled. He removed the gag from her mouth, and kissed her lightly. She spat at him in return, her eyes glowering with anger and terror all at once.
“My Pappy's going to murder you, you asshole! He's going to cut you open and watch you die!”
“Shh,” Lawrence whispered, placing a finger against her trembling lips. “It won't get to that.”
She hurled a few more curses at him, and he looped the nylon cord over her head and fastened it around her neck.
“Please, wait... No...”
More tears sprang from her eyes, and she arched her back as if that would somehow loosen the cord. Lawrence smiled, before wrapping the two ends of the cord around his hand and pulling them taut.
A single vein popped out on her forehead, her eyes bulged. Her mouth gaped open and shut, desperate for air. Lawrence could feel pure ecstasy rushing around his body, making him feel light-headed. A grin spread across his face as he watched Tanya's life slowly ebb away.
Before long, her struggle for life slackened. Her eyes, once so bright and vivacious, glazed over. Her mouth hung open, as if she had simply been shocked by an unexpected turn of events. Lawrence felt for a pulse and found nothing.
Lawrence got his camera out once more, and took a final picture of her face, already paling with death. He removed a charm bracelet that dangled from her wrist, taking a few moments to examine each charm. A small car, studded with diamantes. A crown. A college degree. A ruby heart.
He placed it with the camera back in the duffel bag. He then scooped Tanya into his arms, and walked toward the lake.
Water lapped against his shoes as he placed Tanya onto the shore, making sure he remembered each detail of her face before gently pushing her beneath the surface. She sank without much difficulty, the white moon of her face the last thing Lawrence saw before it was swallowed into shadow. Lawrence gazed up into the night-sky, breathing it in. He'd never felt so alive in his life, so consumed by Love. Tanya was his now. She'd be his forever.

~~~

By the time he got home, the sky was already blushing with the first hints of dawn. He went down into the cellar, still buzzing with euphoria, and extracted his Box of Secrets. He placed the pictures of Tanya at the front of the box, before the pictures of his last. Her name was Sarah, a pretty blond hitch-hiking to L.A. Before her had been Jodi, a waitress at one of the coffee joints in the next town over. Before her, the drifter with no name who'd had hair as red as flame. Before her was Susan, his neighbour from his previous town, only just turned fourteen. And before her had been his first, a girl named Ally who he'd abducted from the beach. All his Loves, all the residents of his Box of Secrets. He took out each of their pictures, each of their personal effects, and lay them side by side. He flitted from memory to memory, savouring each detail that replayed in his mind. The way Sarah had giggled as she'd hopped into his car, extending a single, olive hand to shake his, announcing herself like a hurricane in summer. She had been truly intoxicating. And when she realised Lawrence wasn't taking her to the highway, she erupted like a fire-cracker. But, Lawrence always did like a little bit of a challenge. Then there was Jodi, so silent and solemn, the complete antithesis of Sarah. She'd barely raised her eyes to meet his when she poured his coffee, and when he'd snatched her from the street as she locked up shop, she'd barely made a noise. The drifter was a smart-ass, Lawrence didn't like her at all. The only thing notable about her had been her hair, and a lock of it still sat in his box, the 'souvenir' he'd taken from her. But she'd helped to tide over those suffocating feelings for a little while, at least. Susan was a sweet girl, the kind of girl who'd bring you chocolate chip cookies because you're new in town, or bring your newspaper to your door when you're not feeling so hot. He'd tried so hard to resist her; he didn't like to take the young ones too often, but she kept taunting him, pressuring him to do it. Every time he saw her walk by to school he could hear her laughing at him, calling him weak. Her last words had been for her mother. And then Ally, darling Ally, the girl in the pink bikini whose car simply wouldn't start. She'd been so grateful for Lawrence's help, and even more so when he offered to tow her car to a mechanic and give her a lift home.
He rifled around in his bag for Tanya's charm bracelet, and lay it tenderly in the second section, amongst all the 'souvenirs' from the other girls.
“Be nice,” he whispered. “I've got a new girl for you.”
He pressed the box to his chest and sighed. For now, he felt calm. For now, he felt whole.

Aftermath

Tanya's disappearance was big news in such a small town. When she'd failed to arrive at her friend's house, the alert would be raised. It simply wasn't like her to not show, especially not when the contents of her last message to her friend read:
Can u pls meet me halfway? i think im being followed.
Reginald Jackson appeared on every local news broadcast, pleading for information about his daughter's disappearance. A certain Mary-Anne Donahue had claimed she had seen Tanya making her way down Main Street, with a, "tall fella with eyes like coal" trailing close behind. Another witness, who preferred to remain anonymous, said he had seen a blue Mazda 2 speeding down Main Street at about 10:30pm, with a girl in the back-seat kicking at the windows.
Lawrence didn't pay the hype much attention. It was the usual jamboree that followed one of his kills, and if anything, he found it all a bit amusing to hear what these people had to say. They had seen it happening, and done nothing. He felt invincible.
The county sheriff, with intense scrutiny put on him by Reginald Jackson, looked into each witness statement as if it had been from the Holy Ghost. The information about the Mazda 2 was particularly helpful. Only three people in the entire town had a blue Mazda 2; Sunny Hyland, Monica Nonscrete, and Lawrence Cudrow.

~~~

It was 2:59pm on a Sunday afternoon when the sheriff knocked at Lawrence's door. He'd already checked out the other two suspects, and just couldn't picture them as girl-snatching folk. For one, Sunny only had one arm, and had been that way since an accident at the saw-mill in his twenties. And Monica was a sixty-year-old woman, the church reverend's wife no less. If this witness statement about the blue Mazda 2 held any truth, Lawrence was a pretty good bet.
Lawrence wasn't in the least bit surprised when he saw Bill Hodge standing at his door, thumbs hooked in his belt, his sheriff's cap low over his eyes. He'd been interviewed before, about Jodi and about Susan. And he'd known this one was coming.
"Come on in," Lawrence grinned, opening the door wide. He'd spent many a drunken night with Bill at the Turtle-Dove, and knew Bill was rather fond of him. He'd be looking for any excuse to rule Lawrence off the suspect list.
Bill forced a smile and walked in, his boots echoing down the hallway. It was devoid of any decoration, not even a single family portrait. Bill wondered if Lawrence even had a family.
They sat at the kitchen table, awkwardness immediately descending upon the room.
"Fancy a coffee?" Lawrence asked. "Beer? Water?"
"Now that you mention it, a coffee would be damn fine."
It had been a long day for Bill Hodge. There had only been one other missing person's case in his career, and that had largely been handled by his superiors. He wasn't used to doing such rigorous police work.
The tea-pot screamed to life in the kitchen, and Lawrence poured two cups of his best coffee. He placed the cups on the table, and Bill eyed him with suspicion.
"How'd you get that there wound on your hand? Looks pretty nasty."
Lawrence felt his face pale. He covered the crescent-shaped bite mark with his free hand and took a seat.
"I had a raccoon going through my garbage last night, and the thing bit me when I tried to shoo it away."
Bill nodded, taking a tentative sip of his coffee. Lawrence made a mental note to bandage his hand once the nosy cop left.
"So as you must know, R.J's daughter's gone missin'. She was last heard from Thursday night, around 10:15pm."
"Yes, I heard. Such a shame for R.J. I know how close they were."
"If you don't mind my asking, where were you on Thursday night? I don't remember seeing you at the Turtle-Dove."
"Food poisoning," Lawrence responded without skipping a beat. "I was on the toilet all night, worst case I ever had of it."
"And I'm sure your doctor can verify that alibi, then?"
Lawrence hesitated. "I didn't call the doctor, actually. Too damn sick."
"You seem fine now."
"Must have been one of those twenty-four hour things, y'know?"
Bill frowned. "Well, if you have any information about Tanya's disappearance, be sure to let me know."
"Will do," Lawrence smiled, eyes bright.
"And thanks for the coffee."

~~~

Based on what he'd seen at Lawrence's house, most notably the bite-mark on his hand which, if you asked Bill's opinion on the matter, was the strangest-looking raccoon bite he'd ever seen. He set up a Search Warrant, something he'd never had to do on his own before, and arranged a team to go through Lawrence's home.
At first, Lawrence protested. He said there wasn't enough evidence to obtain a Search Warrant, and that he'd like to have his lawyer present. In reality, Lawrence just wanted to get them out of his house long enough for him to skip town. The heat was getting too intense for him.
Bill gladly obliged, and had a lawyer come by and check out the Warrant.
"This all checks out, Lawrence. You have to let 'em do it."
Lawrence, the shock plainly written on his face, nodded in agreement. His thoughts trailed to the shirt he'd worn on Thursday night, still sitting at the bottom of his laundry basket, still with his blood on the hem. He sat on the steps of his house and waited.

~~~

The team detailing the house found nothing. The team detailing his blue Mazda 2, however, found a lot. Wedged between the side door and the seat was a single strand of brunette hair, hair that was too long and too dark to ever be Lawrence's. And on the back of the driver's seat were a series of smudged shoe-marks, looking to be about the size of a lady's foot. Bill arrested Lawrence on suspicion of being connected to Tanya's disappearance, and sent the strand of hair to be analysed by DNA experts.
Now Lawrence was really panicking. He'd always thought of himself as a smooth-talker, but there was no way he'd talk his way out of this one. He sat in the corner of his cell, head between his knees, trying to loosen the knot of anxiety that had formed in his stomach and grown ever larger as the days progressed.
On the fourth day, a burly looking sergeant came in to take a cast of the bite-mark on his arm. When compared to Tanya Jackson's dental records, it matched perfectly.
Two weeks later, the DNA results came back. They said, with 99.99% certainty, that the strand of hair found in the back of Lawrence Cudrow's car was that of Tanya Jackson.
He was charged with murder. Sure, no body had been found, but with the evidence they'd found they saw no reason why a jury wouldn't condemn him. The prosecution was pushing for the death sentence.
Lawrence was to be transferred to a large prison to await trial, a place with maximum security and zero hope. On the last night he was scheduled to stay in Bill Hodge's cell, he got a visitor.
At first, Bill didn't want to let Reginald through. The man had been through Hell, and the dark shadows under his eyes were a testament to that. He hadn't shaved in weeks, and his face looked gaunt and drawn.
"Please Bill, I need to see the man who did it. I need to ask him why."
Bill obliged. Reginald was an old, dear friend. He deserved this last confrontation. Bill led him through to the cell block and locked him in, leaving him alone with Lawrence.
Lawrence was sitting on the edge of his bed, his eyes glazed and emotionless. He barely reacted when Reginald took a seat outside his cell, his hands wrapped so tightly around the bars you could see the white bone of his knuckled beneath.
"Why, Lawrence. Why did you take her away from me?"
Lawrence shrugged. He couldn't answer the man in a way he'd understand. He'd never be able to understand his Love.
"She was my baby, Lawrence," tears began to stream down Reginald's face, pooling above his mouth and dripping off his chin. "She was my entire world. She was my life. She was my turtle-dove."
Lawrence looked up at the name of R.J's bar. Lawrence looked up in time to see the barrel of a gun pointed squarely at his head.
"Going to prison and getting the lethal injection isn't good enough for you," Reginald growled. "You don't deserve that. You snatched away my Tanya's life, and now I'm going to snatch away yours."
The sound of the gun blast shattered the silence of the Sheriff's station. At once, Bill knew what had happened. He flew into the cell-block, panting hysterically, and saw Reginald standing outside the cell, his head resting against the bars, a pool of blood spread out beneath him. Lawrence was dead, sprawled on the floor of the cell like he'd been kicked from within.
Reginald's body shook with the force of his sobs. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry, Bill. I just couldn't let him live. I just..."
Reginald raised the pistol to his temple, his finger on the trigger.
"No, R.J!" Bill threw himself against his old friend, wrestling the gun away. "Don't give him that satisfaction."
"I just want to be with Tanya," he said. "I can't live this way."
"Tanya wouldn't want you to take your life," Bill said. "She wouldn't want you to die. She'll be waitin' for you up there, but you need to go in your own time."
Reginald slid to the floor, giving into the well of grief building up within him.
"You're going to need to leave town," Bill said. "I won't try to stop you. I won't try to find you, but I'll make it look like I'm damn sure tryin'. Go settle somewhere new, start fresh."
Reginald raised a tear-streaked face, disbelief alight there. "You sure?"
"Positive. No go on, get! I'm going to have to call back-up in about... Half an hour."
Reginald smiled. "You're a good friend, Bill. Thank-you."
"Write me sometime, won't you? Let me know how you're doin'?"
"Of course."
Reginald got to his feet, gave Bill one, last grateful smile, before taking off through the open cell-block door.

~~~

According to Bill Hodge, Reginald had over-powered him, shot Lawrence, and then made a run for it. Bill had tried to stop him, he really had. His superiors had swallowed the story without much questioning, and the whole fiasco was swept under the carpet like a bad dream. Lawrence was disposed of, buried with him the location of Tanya's body, and his Box of Secrets.

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