Her Something 2

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Her Something 2:
Anthony Darden © 2014

A Short Story

Virginia aka Virgin is the character from the kindle book "Virgin by Anthony Darden. The first short story, "Her Something", Virgin  finds love and fortune after teaming up with a high spirited bank robber. This short story "Her Something 2" a young female detective, caught in a web of deceit, after the suicide of a young girl, struggles emotionally with morality after her heart is broken into a million pieces.

The coroner stood looking up at the body.  It hung like an upside-down lamp, only the cord was wrapped around the neck, tight, you could see where it turned off the air and turned her face blue. It must have been one hell of a struggle, maybe second thoughts. There was claw marks on the neck, trying to get her fingers up under the cord that was strangling the life out of her. Her own skin under her nails, he was sure. So pretty and so young he thought. It was sad.

The school mourned her death. School was let out at 12 and people were asked to assemble in the gym. Before festival of food brought by parents and students, the Dean spoke of the great tragedy that had befallen upon the school. She was a great student he said. She was a kind and decent human being. Then he turned the mike over to the Yale grief counselor who offer aid and assistance to anyone thinking or know anyone thinking about committing suicide. 

Buzz had been going around the moment the news hit the airwaves. There was mixed emotions, depending on what side of the fence you were on. “That bitch should have done it long time ago”, came Denise Votavic. “I can’t feel sorry for the bitch. I’m waiting for the test to come back on Rod before I even think of talking to him again.”

“What if the story isn't true?”

“Are you saying Rod is a lier?” 

“No, I’m just saying I knew her.”


“I just can’t see her putting herself in that kind of situation.”

“Well, she did, and that’s that.”

“But what if you are wrong?”

Denise eyes got cold. She turned on her friend. Don’t rush your death, she thought. “Listen bitch! I don’t know what you are getting at or what you think you know, but the bitch had a problem, plain and simple. If you can’t understand that, then I and you are going to have a problem. Are we clear?”

She swallowed hard. “Very.”

“Go find use some lunch”, Denise said turning back to the mirror. “No carbs, and go check on Rod to make sure he is being a good little boy.”

The moment her friend left, she got up, secured the door, went over to her closet, open the double doors, and removed the laptop she had in the safe. This laptop no one knew about. It would destroy everything if anyone knew.

She powered it up, redirecting from Wifi to satellite, a direct link to a small cafe in China, if anyone decided to run a trace. It had cost her a fortune to have the remote router sat up in the wall. The owner thought he won a free renovation. He was more than happy to let strangers into his cafe.

They would have to break the encryption first, and that was highly unlikely. Plus a little surprise awaiting anyone who tampered with the system. Let’s just say, there will be no evidence left. There was no way to her. Because there was no her. Denise Votavic was dead. If worse came to worse, all she needed to do was slip into the night, and like the devil, poof, no body, no crime.

She pulled up the files. She went over them carefully. Then she found a USB cable and plugged her phone into the laptop. It immediately started to sync. Once all the files were backed up to a cloud, just in case, she proceeded to scrub the internet, erasing all the bogus information she had posted about the girl. She could see the shame on her face, night after night as the girl confided in her, the horror of seeing herself being paraded as an Internet troll on Craigslist, Facebook, and a host of other media sites. She could not make anyone believe it wasn't her. Everyone was looking right through her, depicting her naked, on her knees, man after man, night after night. She couldn't change her number fast enough. It was like a train chasing her. She couldn't run fast enough. 

Denise laughed at the police reports. Every time she posted, her roommate filed a report, but there was nothing they could do. She had got as far as a detective, a young inexperienced woman, fresh on the job, who felt sympathetic, and swore that when she had time, she would look into it. But that was all she could promise. That was in vain, Denise smiled. She should have just handed her a gun and went on about her business, though it did trouble her, so much she decided to sit down and look it up. It was hard to believe that it was fake, especially the web cam shower shows. “See me take a shower” was connected to a PayPal account that went directly to her bank account. Every click had made her money. And the pictures looked real. If it was a frame-up, someone was doing a damn good job. She wasn't sure. It was too good. Before she could follow the links something strange and out of the ordinary happen.  Denise Votavic came into the police station, found her desk, and strolled over like a runway model. She stopped abruptly, as if how dare I be in this scummy little rathole, and tossed a vanilla enveloped on the detective’s desk, who looked up startled.

“I just came to tell you personally, bitch! Back off!!”

The irony detective just stared at the swinging body. It was the first time she felt pain for anyone, especially on the job. This was connected and she felt it down to the bone. Denise Votavic stood over her. Bitch! She kept hearing over and over again. Bitch! Back off!! It kept playing over and over again in her head. She had told her lover, even showed him the knotty pictures. No! No way, we can lose everything. I have my pension and my family to think about. This was nothing, a mistake. Do you understand that? Then he marched off. Never repeat this again was his last words before taking the pictures and ripping them into shreds. She was too hurt to think about the girl. She didn't care. Her whole life was a lie. He was nothing but a liar and a cheater. She had believed him, everything he had said, and everything he had promised.

She had puked. Her guts were on the floor and she could not stand. All she saw was the desperation in the girls eyes, the pledging and begging that came to no avail. The girl had become bone thin and was suffering from depression. She was like a frighten mouse, somehow knowing there was no help, but believing God would find a way. There was a little light in her eyes, and a creep of a smile. She believed. I know she did. She hugged the detective for a long time, thanking her over and over again, afraid to let go. I swear was the last words she heard. It was probable the last light of hope.

She came out of the bathroom after getting herself together. “You alright?” Her partner asked. He didn't even look at her. “Poor kid. A waste of life.”

He had no clue it was because of his deceit. She wish she would have kept the pictures. She did not care anymore. She hated being around him. Things were clear now. He was unveiled, the master exposed. She wasn't the first girl at the station he had charmed out of her panties. Even now he had on that charming smile, real sure of himself. She was just a gust in the wind.

“You can take lead on this one. Not so hard. Whore hangs herself in shame, a girl thing. You know what I mean?”

She didn't need to invest time. She knew what happen, what drove a desperate young lady to wrap a cord around her neck. She knew it, because she saw it, that last desperate plea for help. No one could hear her screams, even as her echoing body swung. Bitch! Kept ringing in her ear as she tried to drown out the sound. I love you, baby. I’m going to leave her. We don’t have sex anymore. It’s you, only you. The moment I laid eyes on you. Bitch! It’s only you. It kept playing. The shame couldn't be washed off.  The moment I laid eyes on you. Bitch! It’s only you. It kept playing. She stormed out. She had to get some air. She needed a smoke, even though she didn't smoke.

“You alright?” Again, he didn't even look at her. “Poor kid. A waste of life”, he repeated.

She stayed late doing the paperwork, on her own time, said she had a hot lead and would break the case by morning. The chief had no problem, it always looked good on his chest.

After everyone was gone, she made a fresh pot of coffee and went to work. She was determined to find out all she could about Denise Votavic. Two hours into her research, she was astound. The history of Denise Votavic stated that she had transferred from Cambridge a year ago, after the death of her parents’ who was killed in a car accident. But there was only one death certificate, and that was for Denise Votavic. Denise Votavic was dead, and not the parents. She had been raped and murdered. The responsible, dead, all three throats cut, a vengeance the town did not mind sharing with undercover admiration. They say it was the retribution of God.

Who is Denise Votavic? She kept asking herself. The picture certainly didn't look like the high fashion model that strolled into the station and left all the men’s tongues hanging out. “Bitch!” She heard it again, and this time she saw her face.

“Bitch, I told you to back off”, she towered over her. “You think I will not kill you. I gave you the benefit of doubt because you are a dumb bitch who got caught with your panties down. That bitch hanging, she needed to die. She was a distraction. Plus I needed the fix.”

“A fix?”

“Yes, a fix.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I needed to kill someone. It’s in my blood. I was born with it. I don’t know why I have to kill. So, if you think I am playing with you, think again.” She tossed a file on her desk. 

The detective looked at the file. “What is this?”

“Bitch! Don’t you read the news? They are not the innocent", she went on. "I don’t kill the innocent. She knew who I was, or at least she knew who the real Denise Votavic was. They went to Cambridge together. She had pictures and was threatening to extort. She was a real pain in my ass. Dumb bitch!”

The detective turned the page, the vice president's picture appeared with a caption under it. She looked up at her.

“Yes, that’s me, and right now, you better have one hell of a reason why I should not leave you in a puddle of blood.”

She looked hard at Virgin and stood slowly up, facing her, the movement causing a scratch of blood. “Your secret is safe with me, but only on one condition.”

Virgin removed the blade from the young detective’s throat. “Amuse me.”

“I need you to disgrace my partner like you did the girl. But I want you to make him a gay male whore.” She reached into her desk and pulled out a flash chip. “Here are naked pictures of him. I’m sure you can doctor them. I want him to lose everything and come crawling back to me, begging and pleading.”

She looked at the detective long and hard. The woman was not scared.  She slide the blade back into her boot and took the chip. “He must have hurt you pretty bad. Why would you want a man like that back?”

“So I can, personally, hand him my gun.”    

Copyright © 2014 Anthony Darden

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without express written permission of the author.   

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