“Well, I can’t speak for the other officers, but- “
She sneered at him, no longer attempting to hide her contempt. “And the second it happens some cute little blonde haired, blue eyed thing, a damn federal agent is down here asking me questions. Typical.”
“Actually, Miss Peterson had brown hair and green eyes, I believe,” he corrected, but his voice was nothing more than a whisper. He felt about one inch tall.
“Well, whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes at him again. “I don’t think it’s the same guys, to answer your question. All of mine were out-of-towners, and I don’t suppose you’d be here asking if you thought that was the story with these ones.”
Tim shook his head sheepishly.
“Didn’t think so,” she mumbled, grabbing a cloth and starting to wipe down the back counter. Her elbow pumped fiercely as she did it, as if she were pouring all her anger and frustration into her work.
Tim tapped his knuckle on the counter twice then turned to leave without a word, unsure of what to say.
As he neared the door, she called out to him without looking up from her work. “Hope you catch them.”
“Me too,” he agreed, pushing the door open and letting the heat hit him in the face. He turned and watched her for a moment, her face red with rage but not at him. There was a time that someone could have said she was mad at the men that had wronged her. Then at the police that had ignored her. Now she was just… angry. It became a part of who she was despite her efforts to hide it, but was obvious now as the countertop vibrated and rocked under her constant pressure. “I don’t like thinking about what happens when we don’t,” he finished in a much lower voice, then closed the door behind him.
It was a bright, sunny Coral Beach day.
Actually that statement was misleading, as Greer Donaldson told everyone who informed her of such a thing. Her fresh, fourteen year-old mind had thought it a disgusting paradox why people would call it that. It made a day like today sound ordinary, or run-of-the-mill. Such was not the case, however. Coral Beach, Maine was subject to a vast majority of hurricane-level storms, rain, sleet, mid-summer snow and (at least once a month, it seemed to her) the temperature would drop so freakishly low that it might actually hail. That wasn’t even counting obscene murders and odd disappearances, things that often made days like today considerably less bright, even a little gray. As if the shared mood of this town’s inhabitants affected the forecast, making the poor weatherman consistently wrong.
But that was what made it even more important to appreciate days like today. Her young, republican-raised mind hated to be so cliché, but the sun was bathing her face in warm rays and the birds were filling her ears with a happy, relaxing tune. She didn’t care if she was late, she simply had to walk to school today.
Greer’s long blonde hair flowed behind her, catching rays of sunlight as they passed her. Her lips were full and red, a clear contrast to her pearly white teeth. Her skin was milky white, with the exception of a few freckles across her upper cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Large blue eyes shone brightly with a light that came from inside and threatened to outdo the sun in sheer radiance. She was wearing a loose orange top and a pair of faded blue jeans that were pretty well white at the bottom. She was truly a vision, young and beautiful and innocent.
That was why they picked her.
Allan Bishop and Bram Raine leapt from the shadows as one, each of them grabbing her by either of her small, round shoulders. She tried to scream but one of Allan’s hands was already over her mouth, the other firmly planted in the small of her back for the moment. She made a small noise, but it escaped through his thick fingers as nothing more than a whistle. He jerked her head to one side as Raine picked up her kicking feet, forcing her onto the pile of rotting, rat infested garbage at the back end of the space between two houses. Her neighbors’ houses, to be specific.
She resisted, trying hard to get at least one of her weak limbs free, but they were by far too much for her alone. She could see another man approaching, though she could not see who. He was laughing, she knew that much. It was a sick sound. Allan jerked her head to the side again, the calcium in the bone cracking from the stress, sending a sudden jolt of pain through her cranium. He brought his disgusting, rough tongue down to her skin and tasted it as the three men began to rip the clothes off of her, the threads snapping and cutting against her flesh as they did so, nearly taking it off of the bone.
She started to cry. But, that was all right. As far as they were concerned, it wasn’t worth it unless they cried. The tears were hot and Raine kissed them off of her cheeks, the taste of salt making his mouth dry. He made his way down her neck, hungry for more and grunting like some depraved animal.
They took turns. Two of them holding her down, beating her if she started to struggle, the other climbing on. By the end, she couldn’t even cry anymore. Her sobs came as dry heaves, and she wanted very much to vomit.
Then they urinated on her. It stung at the cuts that laced her tiny body.
She looked up, barely able to see out of her bruised and swollen eyes, and she saw him.
