| | :: Fanfic ::
The Night Hell Raised. Part Two
Author: Patricia Anne McCarty
Word Count: 781
Author's Notes: The Night Hell Raised is Rated R. This 7 part story is based on true events I learned about while watch a crime documentary. I felt terrible and wished there was something that could be done to these jerks that would hurt as bad as what they gave. So I am writing this in honor of the victim the report was about. Please be warned there are some gruesome scenes in this story.
The Night Hell Raised. Part Two
Rated R
My buddy looks at my face. He cracks a smile as he hands me a letter size package, tells me it’s basically all they’ve got at the moment.
I take the amber colored pack studyin’ the look on his face. He ain’t the type to set a killer loose to do a job, he’s more the type to drag ‘em in. This must of gotten to him too. How could it not?
“Go on, open it, soldier,” he tells me with a kind of pointing nod of his head.
Soldier. He’s been callin’ me that for years. It’s a thing with him. Makes him feel he’s remindin’ me who’s in charge. Use to bug the nuts out of me. Made me want to wring his neck more than once. But I’ve grown use to it now. He respects me and I respect him. Wouldn’t have accepted his offer to join his team if I didn’t respect the man. He’s a good man. The type ya want your daughter to bring home. A real Duddly- Do- Right.
I open the flap and pull out 3 items. First thing I’m seeing is a police eye witness sketch of the ugliest f**ker I’d seen in a long while. Then I’m seein’ some torn fabric pieces stuffed in a clear zip lock. Last there’s a photograph of 3 young Asian girls. My heart sank into my stomach when I saw that one of the girls looked like she could have been the twin of my girl when she was 14, the age she was when we first met.
“How old are they?” I asked my buddy. He tells me 18,17, and 15. The one on the far right is 17, she’s the one that got away. The other 2 weren’t so lucky.
“What the hell are minors doing crossin’ the boarder anyway?!” I spout off.
“They went with the older girl, seems without their parents’ consent. They sneaked out like kids do,” he tells me.
I just sit lookin’ at the photograph in my hand and shake my head.
“What’s with this baggy of cloth?” I ask.
“That’s the only real evidence we have. It came from the attacker. The girl that got away was clutching it in her hands and told us she ripped his shirt during the struggle.” He states.
To anyone else, that would hold little water, but me? Well, it’s the key to the whole hunt. All I need is his scent, and I can hunt him down like a dog. I open the bag, then I zip it right back up again with a scowl.
My buddy has the nerve to chuckle at me so he gets a growl.
“That bad, huh?” he asks with a grin.
Sometimes I just want to punch those perfect pretty boy teeth right down his throat, but truer words were never spoken. That was a powerful STINK.
Next thing I’m on an airplane to Mexico; Tijuana to be exact.
The fly girls here sure are pretty. But they ain’t MY girl. I sit in my seat, pull my leather hat over my eyes and dream I’m holdin’ her in my arms. It’s one of my favorite past times. Better than a book, better than a movie. One of the few things in this world that can bring a smile to my face. And that’s sayin’ a lot.
Thinking back to when we first met, the spunky little smart mouth punk she was, I have to laugh. She wasn’t much more than 14 at the time. Thought of her more as my daughter than anything else. Then one day she grew up and went off to school. When she came back a woman… Well, that’s when I found out how long she’d been lookin’ my way! Shocked the nuts out of me, I must say, but I gave in. I ain’t never regretted a thing.
I’m thinking of her soft skin, her beautiful little china doll face, and thick black hair, when that image hits. The photograph. 3 Asian girls smilin’ their last smile. Suddenly I’m filled with a deep feelin’ of sorrow followed by anger. The kind that comes from the gut.
I growl involuntarily and squeeze my hands into fists. Must of been a bit louder than I thought. I could see from the corner of my eye, right under my hat, as the lady sittin’ next to me scoots over.
I just roll my eyes. Some people ain’t worth the spit it takes explainin’ things to. I shut my eyes and try to catch some Zs before we land. Gonna be a long ride.
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