Dirty Rotten Hippies and Other Stories Read online

  No one heard his screams or pleas for mercy.

  No one except Charlie’s chosen few, that is.

  And no one else ever would.

  Because all that remained of Jason Dobbs’ future—aside from his pending agonizing death—was a rendezvous with a lonely hole in the dusty desert soil. A forgotten unmarked grave that would forever go undiscovered.

  WE ARE 138 GOLDEN ELM

  “MAYBE WE SHOULD TRY CALLING them again.”

  Jim Matthews shifted in his seat and adjusted his grip on the Audi’s steering wheel. He scanned the surrounding area as he took the car slowly down yet another in a seemingly endless series of nondescript suburban streets. They all looked pretty much the same. Well-kept lawns. Modest-sized houses in varying styles, but nothing too ostentatious. Most of the cars parked in the driveways and at the curbs looked relatively newish, but none of them were luxury rides. Working class people lived here. Well-paid unionized factory workers and middle-management types. There were no one-percenters with Bentleys and Ferraris. Everything looked so damned normal, but appearances, as Jim well knew, could be deceiving.

  “Did you hear me?”

  Jim sighed. “I heard you.”

  Tanya Carlson heaved a sigh of her own, one invested with a high degree of exaggerated petulance. “Well? Should we call them again? We’ve been driving around in circles forever. You must’ve gotten the directions wrong.”

  Jim shrugged. “Okay.”

  They drove on in silence until reaching the end of Edward Avenue, which intersected with Bronson. Jim glanced at the rearview mirror as he brought the Audi to a full stop. No other cars were approaching from behind. He took his phone from the slot beneath the radio, pulled up the number from the recent calls list, and put the phone to his ear.

  The call was answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

  Jim cleared his throat. “Hey, Mr. Quist, this is Jim Matthews again. We must’ve gotten our wires crossed or something because we’re having a hard time finding your street. Pretty sure I’ve taken at least one wrong turn.”

  Tanya snorted. Jim ignored the disdainful noise, keeping his gaze on the rearview mirror. Patience was not one of Tanya’s virtues, to understate. Mostly he was okay with it, because she seemed to genuinely love him. Also, she was easily the best lay of his life and was open-minded when it came to some of his more non-traditional interests.

  The man who’d given his name as Michael Quist chuckled from the other end. “Easy to do out here if you’re not using GPS. We’re at 138 Golden Elm Lane. Where are you right now?”

  “End of Edward Avenue, facing Bronson.”

  A barely audible voice issued from the other end. The words it uttered were indistinct. Someone—the man’s wife, maybe, though gender was impossible to determine with any certainty—was speaking to Michael Quist in hushed tones. “Yes, yes, I know,” Quist said, obviously addressing the mystery party. “They’ll be here soon, I promise.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry, Jim. We’re pretty anxious to see you and get down to business.” Another chuckle. “The good news is you’re really close now. Take a right and drive on down to Parker Street. You’ll pass a couple stop signs before you get there. Take a left at Parker and drive down a couple blocks. That’ll take you to Golden Elm. Take a right there and you’ll practically be here. We’re three houses down on the left. Got that?”

  Jim nodded. “Three houses down on the left. Got it.”

  “See you soon, Jim.”

  “See—”

  Jim took the phone away from his ear and stared at the dark screen a moment. The call had already gone dead. It’d been slightly rude of the man to click off so abruptly, but it didn’t really matter, did it? They didn’t know each other. They weren’t friends. This was an arrangement ostensibly devoid of emotion, a convergence of like-minded adults interested in doing things together polite society might frown upon. Ostensibly.

  Tanya snatched the phone from his hand. “What’s the address?”

  Jim glanced again at the rearview mirror. He saw headlights behind him, approaching from about a block away. He took a right turn out onto Bronson, keeping in mind what Quist had said about having to pass through two stop signs.

  Tanya’s fist slammed against his shoulder.

  Jim grimaced. “Ow. Damn, Tanya. That hurt.”

  “I told you to give me the address. That’s what you get for ignoring me.”

  “Jesus. It’s 138 Golden Elm Lane. But we’re almost there. I’ve got it straight in my head now.”

  Tanya grunted. “Yeah. Okay. I’m putting it in Google Maps anyway, just in case.”

  She swiped at his phone’s screen and started tapping in the address. After staring at the screen a moment longer, she took a look around and nodded as they reached the first stop sign. “We’re getting close. You’ll take a left at Parker. It’s just up ahead.”

  Jim already knew that, but he didn’t say anything. Even though it was true, it would come out sounding as petulant as she’d sounded a moment ago. She’d accuse him of being a snotty jerk and they’d get in a pointless argument. It wasn’t worth it. Better all around to let her think she’d set him straight.

  “Turn here,” she said as they reached Parker.

  Jim took the turn, said nothing. He did the same when she told him to take the right turn at Golden Elm Lane. Their destination was right where Michael Quist had said it would be, the third house down on their left. The driveway was empty and no cars were parked at the curb on that side of the street. The house looked dark and foreboding in the deepening dusk. Not much light remained in the sky and there were no lights on in the house that Jim could see.

  Tanya made a sound of exasperation. “Are you sure this is the right place? It looks empty.”

  Jim couldn’t argue with her there, but there was no doubt this was the house to which Quist had directed him. The large gold numbers reading 138 on the side of the mailbox were visible even in the fading light.

  Jim nodded, gesturing at the mailbox. “Yeah. I mean, this is definitely 138. And we’re on Golden Elm, just like the ad said. And just like the man told me several times.”

  Tanya twisted in her seat and leaned over him, peering intently at the dark house. Her pretty face was tinged with a deep confusion. “It really doesn’t look like anybody’s home. No lights on. No fucking cars.” She glanced at Jim, arching an eyebrow. “Are you sure it’s supposed to be 138, not 148 or something else that sounds similar?”

  Jim sighed. “I’m sure. The man said so. And you saw the ad. This is definitely the place.”

  Tanya made another of those fretful, annoyed sounds before pulling away from him. “Park in their driveway.”

  “But—”

  “Just do it.”

  Jim shrugged. “Okay.”

  He pulled the Audi into the driveway and moved the gearshift over to park. A closed garage door was directly in front of him. It had no windows. There was no way to tell, but it was possible—likely, even—that the Quists’ cars were parked behind that door. Knowing this dispelled that feeling of foreboding to some degree, but not entirely. The absence of any exterior lighting or visible indoor lighting still struck him as a bit strange.

  They sat there in silence a long moment, staring at the dark house. At last, Jim let out a big breath and glanced at his girlfriend. “Well, what do you think? Do we go up and ring the doorbell?”

  Tanya had her arms crossed tightly beneath her breasts. A deep line was creasing her forehead. “I don’t know. This is starting to feel a little sketchy.”

  Jim nodded. “Yeah. I guess. The guy sounded friendly enough on the phone, though.”

  Tanya shrugged. “If you say so. You’re the one who talked to him, not me.”

  “Look, if you want to write this off and just leave, I’m okay with it. We’ll find another couple.”

  “It’s up to you,” Tanya told him, that deep line on her forehead still in place as she continued to eye the split-level house with obvious w
ariness. “This is your deal, really. You know that.”

  Jim frowned. “But I thought you were into it. That’s what you’ve always told me.”

  Tanya grunted. “I don’t mind it once we’re into it, but it’s not something I need. You’re the real enthusiast here.”

  “I guess so.”

  Tanya looked at him. A little smile shaded the corners of her mouth as she reached out and touched his leg. “Don’t sound so bummed. I like it. I do. And I want to make you happy. So we’ll knock on the door. If they answer and everything seems chill, we’ll go on in. If something seems off . . .”

  Jim nodded, smiling now, too. “We’ll leave. Maybe go see that Von Trier movie you wanted to check out.”

  “Good plan. Let’s go.”

  She opened the door on her side and got out before he could say anything else. Jim was still in place behind the wheel as she threw the door shut. Still eyeing the house, he patted his leather jacket’s inner pocket and felt the reassuring weight of the 9mm pistol. It was loaded with a full magazine. A switchblade was nestled in there along with it. He glanced at Tanya and saw the big purse dangling from her shoulder by a thin strap. She was packing a snub-nosed .357 Taurus and a blade of her own, a big serrated hunting knife. He smiled again as images from the last time she’d used it flitted through his mind.

  The thought of his gorgeous girlfriend pushing that big blade into soft human flesh and making it gush crimson made his cock twitch. This in turn triggered a fresh surge of the dark hunger that had always driven him. It was powerful enough to dispel the last of his wariness.

  He got out of the Audi and joined Tanya on the sidewalk. Together they traversed the sidewalk and climbed the steps to the front porch. Jim was reaching for the doorbell button when Tanya said, “Look at that.”

  Jim glanced at her, confused. “At what?”

  She indicated the door with a tilt of her chin. “It’s open.”

  Jim followed her gaze, frowning again as he noted that she was right. The door was open just the tiniest crack, maybe a quarter inch of vertical blackness standing between the edge of the door and the doorframe. “That’s a little strange.”

  Tanya adjusted the strap of her purse and moved back a step to peer up at dark second level windows. “It’s more than a little strange. Oh, wait.” She moved back another step, teetering for a moment on the edge of the porch before righting herself. “I saw something.”

  Jim joined her at the edge of the porch. In the dark, the smaller second level looked a bit like a huge, squat gargoyle perched atop the sloping roof. It had two windows facing the front yard. Both were dark. Jim stared at them a moment and saw nothing.

  “I don’t see anything.”

  Tanya made an exasperated sound. “I saw it, Jim. I fucking know I did.”

  “What was it?”

  She shook her head. “It looked like a face.”

  “One of the Quists, probably.”

  “Do they have a kid?”

  Jim frowned. “Not according to the ad. You saw a kid?”

  Tanya let out a shuddery breath as she again shook her head. “I don’t know, but it sort of looked like one. It was just a little, pale face at the bottom of the window. I saw it for, like, a split fucking second before it was gone again.”

  Jim turned his head about, glancing at the tall streetlight on the opposite side of Golden Elm. He thought maybe she’d caught a glint of that light reflecting on the window.

  Tanya scowled. “I know what you’re thinking. It was no optical illusion. I saw a face. A kid’s face, I’m pretty sure.”

  “That just doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I know what I fucking saw.”

  Jim nodded. “Okay. Maybe they lied about not having a kid. Does it make a difference?”

  Tanya’s features became pinched with thought a moment before she shrugged and said, “Not really. There was a kid that first time, too.”

  “And it really doesn’t bother you?”

  “No.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Tanya stamped a foot on the porch. “I’m fucking sure. Now let’s get on with this before I lose my nerve.”

  Jim reached out and tapped the doorbell button. He tapped it twice, a long-standing habit dating back to early childhood. It’d been one of the first symptoms of his OCD. He always had to do lots of things twice or in multiples of two. It was a pain in the ass sometimes, but he’d learned to live with it.

  The doorbell produced no sound.

  Jim made a sound of aggravation and stabbed at the button with his index finger two more times, thinking he merely hadn’t hit it hard enough the first time. Again, there was no sound. With the door open, the chime should have been audible from inside if it was functioning properly.

  Jim grunted. “Broken.”

  “No shit. Try knocking.”

  Jim raised a hand and rapped his knuckles against the door eight times in four rapid multiples of two. He moved back a step after that, anticipating an approach of footsteps from somewhere inside at any moment. They stood there in silence for almost a full minute. Again, no sound of any kind issued from inside the house.

  “This is ridiculous,” Tanya said, sounding more aggravated than ever. “The door’s open. We should just go on in.”

  Jim thought about it. They could do that, sure, but his sense that something was wrong here was growing by the moment. In the half-decade that had passed since beginning his career as a serial killer, he’d learned to trust his instincts. They were almost always right and right now they were telling him to turn around and leave this place.

  And yet he hesitated.

  Four months had passed since they’d killed that couple in Tallahassee. Since the start of his life as a killer, there’d only been one gap between kills longer than that, a six month stretch three years back. That break had been necessary in the wake of his most high-profile crime, the brutal slaughter of a family of four in Orlando. That had been before Tanya’s entry into his life. As a team, this was by far the longest break there’d been between kills.

  Jim was feeling antsy. He needed to feel that one-of-a-kind rush again. Tanya wanted it just as badly as he did. She was just playing it cool, like always, trying to make out like she didn’t enjoy it the way he did. But he’d seen that look of wild glee on her face while slashing apart human bodies too many times to buy that.

  “Fuck it. Let’s do this.”

  He glanced at Tanya. She was smiling. She had a hand deep inside her purse.

  The door creaked as Jim pushed it open. It was a loud creak, as if the hinges hadn’t been oiled since at least the Eisenhower administration. It was a sound he’d expect from the door to some crumbling ancient estate. This struck him as strange. The house didn’t seem that old, but maybe it was older than it looked.

  Whatever, it didn’t matter.

  They were going in, anyway.

  Jim pushed on the door until it was all the way open and stepped into a dark and empty foyer. He felt along the wall to his right, groping for a light switch. He found a panel with three switches and flipped up the first one. The foyer remained dark.

  He tried the next two.

  Again, no light.

  Stranger and stranger. Those finely-honed instincts were screaming at him now. Something was definitely not right at the Quist residence. Given the interest in an extreme level of kink expressed in the Quists’ online ad, a certain degree of strangeness was not a huge shock. But Michael Quist had sounded so normal on the phone. Then again, Jim was capable of coming across as very normal to regular people when he put his mind to it, so you just never knew.

  The heels of Tanya’s boots clicked on the foyer’s hardwood floor as she followed him into the house. “What’s going on?”

  Jim flipped all three switches up and down eight more times to the same result. “No power,” he said, giving it up at last. “Or the bulbs are all burned out.”

  Tanya hugged herself and shivered. “It’s cold i
n here.”

  Jim frowned.

  He hadn’t noticed it before, but she was right. The air in the house was significantly colder than the air outside. The difference had to be a minimum of ten degrees. Maybe more like twenty degrees. He could think of no good explanation for that. If anything, the house should be warmer inside. It was just another bit of oddness in an overall pattern of oddness.

  Deciding at last to listen to what his instincts were telling him, Jim glanced at Tanya and said, “Let’s get the fuck out of here. Something really isn’t right.”

  She nodded. “Sorry, baby. I know how bad you wanted this. We’ll find some trashy crack whore and spend all night fucking her up. Will that make you feel a little better?”

  Jim smiled. “You know, I think it will. Come on, let’s go.”

  He took her by an elbow and they started back toward the open door. Before they could get there, the door swung shut right in front of them with astonishing force, slamming into the doorframe hard enough to make both of them flinch.

  Tanya shrieked in fright. “What the fuck!?”

  Jim rushed to the door and grabbed the doorknob. He tried turning it to no avail. He tried again, this time gripping it with both hands and twisting with all his might, but it was no use. It would not budge. In frustration, he pounded on the door with the base of a fist. Predictably, this also accomplished nothing.

  “Wh-what’s going on?” Tanya’s voice sounded thin and brittle, more like the voice of an overwhelmed little girl than a grown woman. “What’s happening?”

  Jim kicked at the door. “I don’t know. It’s stuck or something.”

  “I’m scared.”

  She sounded a bit more than just scared. Frightened out of her goddamned mind was more like it. Jim turned away from the door and saw her standing in the center of the dark foyer. She had her phone out and had turned on the flashlight function. The beam projecting from the back of the phone was aimed right at his face, making him squint.