See No Evil

“Hmmm?” He’d been dreaming of Cami. Actually, he’d been dreaming of doing Cami and Faye together. He wondered if they’d be up for it. He knew they had something going. A couple lesbos. Okay, so they were bi. Whatever, it would be a treat. And he’d earned it, hadn’t he? He’d done everything Cami had wanted. Even some things the others didn’t know about, like taking those photographs she asked him to.

“Did you bring the pictures?” she asked now.

“Of course.” Robbie pulled the folder from his jacket, handed it to her. “Your wish is my command,” he chuckled.

She quickly flipped through the pictures. “The fucking liar!”

“What?” Robbie tried to look over and see what Cami was looking at, but she stuffed the photos back into the folder.

She handed him a sealed manila envelope from under her seat. “Time to go.”

“What?”

“Sorry, Robbie, but if the police are able to trace your truck, you have to be gone. Here’s an airline ticket to Rio de Janeiro. And I got your passport from your father’s filing cabinet last night-plus fifty thousand dollars.”

“Fifty? But I have millions coming to me when I’m eighteen. Fuck if I’m leaving the country!”

“Well, a lot of good those millions will do you in prison,” Cami said.

“I’m not going anywhere,” said Robbie.

“He wanted me to kill you, Robbie, but I’m giving you life. I’m setting you free. But you have to go. The flight leaves in six hours. Park the truck in long-term parking. By the time anyone finds it and traces it to you, you’ll be basking in the sun. I’ll send more money, promise.”

“No way. It’s not fair.”

She tenderly touched him on the cheek. “I’ve always liked you, Robbie. I want to help you. This is the only way I know how.”

“It’s the guy in the pictures, right? He’s the one behind all this.”

“Go, Robbie.”

He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to watch his father die. He still felt the lashes across his back from the last “lesson.” The old bastard deserved to suffer.

“But if I run, they’ll know I’m guilty.”

Cami sighed, pulled out another folder. “I planted a copy of this in your father’s office and am sending this one to the police. See how well I copied your handwriting?”

Robbie frowned and, shaking, took the folder and opened it. Inside was a photograph of him beaten black and blue. He looked small, weak, and stupid in the picture. But it was really him and it was unaltered. The negatives were also in the folder.

The letter did look like it was in his handwriting.

Dad:

You almost killed me last week. I was coughing up blood. Some day I think you will kill me. That’s always what you wanted to do, right? Because you blamed me for Mom dying.

FUCK YOU! I’m sending these pictures to the police and to the newspapers. Ha! Ha. Deal with it. And if you think you can talk your way out of it, take a close look at the last picture. The negatives are going to the police. When you’re in prison for raping your own son, I’ll come for a visit.

I’m so outta here, asshole.

Robbie

Hands shaking, he flipped through the pictures. Sure enough, there was one of his father standing over a young boy.

“That’s not me,” Robbie said, voice shaking.

“Doesn’t matter. No one can see the face.”

“He did that to someone?”

“I have the negatives.”

“Why say it’s me? I can destroy him with this alone.” Robbie’s stomach churned at the realization that his father was a pedophile as well as a child abuser.

“We will destroy him, Robbie. But it has to be you, to give you a reason to leave. Embarrassment, fear, whatever. Doesn’t matter. You come back when everything dies down and no one will be looking at you for anything we did. I’ll take care of the truck. Just leave the ticket in the glove compartment, okay?”

A niggling doubt tickled Robbie. Something didn’t sound right. He wished he hadn’t smoked that pot earlier. “I don’t know about this.”

“It’s already done. The folder is on your father’s desk. I mailed a copy to the police. They’ll have it tomorrow, or Tuesday at the latest. Go, Robbie. This was my solution, instead of letting him kill you. Please, Robbie, for me.”

She leaned over and kissed him. She’d never kissed him before. He didn’t think she’d ever even touched him.

Tears stung his eyes. He took the envelope, heavy with cash. “I’m going to miss you, Cami. And everyone.”

“We’ll miss you, too.”

She took the folder from him and kissed him again. “I know where you are, Robbie. I might come down and see you if things get too hot here.”

He smiled, kissed her back. Grabbed her breast. “I wish we had more time. Maybe-”

“We don’t have time, Robbie. Please. For me, go.”

He sighed and got out of Cami’s car, walked over to his truck. He climbed into the driver’s seat.

Cami watched Robbie from the safety of her own car. She had no remorse, feeling nothing but irritation that he had proved so unworthy and stupid. She flashed her lights once.

Everything had been set up earlier that afternoon. The woman in the quarry’s control room pulled the switch. From above, three tons of rock fell on Robbie’s truck. Whether he was crushed to death or suffocated, Cami didn’t know.

He was now really stoned, she chuckled to herself.

She looked at the photos he’d taken for her, her anger raging. Someone would pay for this betrayal.

No one made a fool of her.

Skip had trusted Faye. And she’d killed him.

The light reflected off the blade. She watched herself stab him. He fought back.

“Faye, no!”

He held his arms up and she brought the knife down. Felt it cut flesh. Hit bone. Over and over. Up and down. He hit her once, then she got him in the eye.

She cut him even when he was dead. She couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. She almost turned the knife on herself. Almost. Almost. Almost…

But in the end she couldn’t take her own life, and she hated herself even more. She was weak. It would be so easy to slit her wrists and watch her life flow away to the nothingness she’d felt her entire life…

Faye stared at the bloody knife.

Skip had been her friend, and while she killed him she almost felt as if she’d been outside her own body. She watched herself stab him over and over.

It got easier when his eyes stopped accusing her.

But what about the knife? And her own blood? The kill hadn’t been easy. Skip hadn’t gone willingly.

Cami was off taking care of the other loose end. Faye wondered if she herself was a loose end. If she went to him, would he kill her?

Maybe that would be for the best.

And she’d already put her life in his hands. He could decide whether she lived or died. Faye didn’t much care