a Peek into Heat and Murder

Prologue

Her
scream was smothered by the greasy rag stuffed in her mouth. She
stared down through bleary eyes at the man standing inches from her
naked body. Her stomach clenched as her blood dripped from the knife
in his hand. Pain rocketed through every nerve in her body.

She
whimpered as he placed the knife against her skin and drew it
downward. White hot pained blurred her vision. A wicked smiled
curved on his lips as he moved the knife to her side and began to
slice away chunks of her skin. She tried to move away but the chains
that had her suspended above the floor refused to budge. Everything
grew gray around the edges as her heartbeat began to slow. It was
almost over and she prayed her death would come swiftly. The pain was
beginning to fade and she felt strangely numb.


He
held the knife between her bare breasts and slid it down to her
navel. All she could feel was the knife moving against her skin,
there was no pain. She could feel pressure at other points of her
body as he continued to carve into her. Her breaths were growing
shallow and finally she gasped one last time.


He
watched as all the tension left her body. Blood trickled from the
corner of her mouth as her chin sagged against her chest. Gently he
placed the knife on the table and turned to admire his art work. Then
turning he picked up a picture and put a bloody x over the
dead girls picture.


“Another
one down,” he whispered.

Chapter
1

With
an exasperated sigh Cam kicked the blankets from her sweat dampened
body and stared at the dark ceiling. Why did she come back? Was she
glutton for punishment? She closed her eyes and the word “failure”
flashed bright red against her eyelids. The driving need to be on her
own was what pushed her to run to Seattle in the first place.


Groaning,
she flounced onto her belly and angrily punched her pillow. Camellia
Jane Boudreaux remembered all too well the elated feeling of freedom
as she drove away from her aunt and uncle’s house the day after
graduation, six years ago. Bound and determined to make something of
herself, she refused to look back. She was going to make it in
Seattle weather it killed her or not.


Once
she had settled into her tiny apartment, she decided that it was time
for a change; new town, new apartment, and a whole new look. So
before she lost her nerve she found the nearest beauty shop and
sheered her waist length black hair off into to a stylish pixie cut
that spiked out in every which direction. That, mixed with her small
height of five foot two, left her looking the epitome of an impish
little elf who relished in mischief.


Other
acts of rebellion included several piercings; a tiny nose stud, a
belly button ring, and a bar bell through her tongue. She knew it
would drive her aunt and uncle crazy so she enjoyed each and every
painful moment of it. Her final act of rebellion included a tattoo,
but as it often does, one small tattoo lead to more, each one meant
something special to her and each one could be covered or uncovered
at her discretion. The largest one was the trail of brightly colored
stars that started at her tail bone and spiraled up her spinal column
to the base of her neck. Her favorite tattoo, however, was the pair
of bright red lips on her right butt cheek. That tattoo she’d
gotten especially for her aunt and uncle.


The
first five years in Seattle had gone smoothly. She worked for a major
fashion designer, learning the ins and outs of the business she loved
so much. She went to design school and she’d even been in a
somewhat serious relationship, but at the beginning of the sixth
year, everything started to go downhill in a hurry.


Not
wanting to focus on her failures and completely giving up on sleep,
Cam threw her bare legs over the edge of the bed and kicked them back
and forth. She wondered if being homeless in Seattle was preferable
to being stuck in the overly large yet ironically tiny house. In
fact, she was fairly certain the pits of hell would be more
preferable than, at the age of twenty four, moving back in with the
only two people on the face of the planet who possessed the power to
continually make her feel as if she were two years old again. Yet
here she was, a day after her arrival and already having suffered
through a chorus of "I told you so’s", disapproving
glares and the overly dramatic titters and flutters from her aunt.
Cam smiled into the shadows smugly. The horrified look on their
faces, as they opened the front door and found her standing on the
porch, had been worth it.


As
she sat staring at her feet, she remembered the constant berating by
her uncle as she grew up. It had been his self appointed duty to make
sure she knew on a daily basis how stupid she was and how she would
never amount to anything, while her aunt stood by soaking her
problems in a bottomless glass of southern comfort.


She
never truly felt at home in their house. It was only by circumstance
that placed her there in the first place. Her parent’s death had
completely turned her world upside down. The papers called it an
accident, but she was never able to shake the feeling that there was
more to it. Therefore she was placed in custody of David and Jeann
Savoi at the age of twelve. David was her father’s brother and he’d
begrudgingly taken her in.


The
only bright spot in her life while she was growing up had been Lucky
Jackson, her best friend. The boy she’d tagged after when she was a
little girl and then later as a teenager fell hopelessly in love
with. She would watch from the sidelines as Lucky began to date at
the age of sixteen. Even though she was only twelve she still wished
it was her that he would hold hands with. She remembered once,
seeing him behind the bleachers at a football game with a buxom
blond. Cam remained in the shadows and watched Lucky kiss the other
girl. The blond was pinned between the wall and his body as one of
his hands groped at the front of her shirt. She watched as Lucky
slipped his free hand down the front of the girl’s shorts. Cam had
been intrigued as she watched the other girl pant and moan and rotate
her hips against his moving hand. The blond had caressed the front
of Lucky’s jeans. She also remembered all to well the way her own
body reacted, and the way she felt flush with an unfamiliar
excitement.

It
was after that incident that Cam quickly learned, from one of her
friends, what sex and making out was about. As the years passed she
tried to gain Lucky’s attention with but he never seemed to see her
in that kind of light. They would still hang out from time to time
and while she silently prayed he would kiss her or hold her hand or
make some kind of romantic gesture towards her, she was always left
disappointed. One day, before her fifteenth birthday, they’d been
playing touch football in the rain and he’d playfully tackled her.
He’d fallen on top of her and for a moment, she thought he’d
finally seen her. Something had passed behind his eyes but it had
vanished quickly. Then moronically she’d blurted “I love you.”
He pulled her to her feet and had laughed replying, “I love you
too kid.” It was a gesture from an older brother and nothing more.

As
time passed she began to date other guys, at times trying to make him
jealous but it never seemed to work. Slowly she and Lucky began to
drift apart, hanging out less and less. But she always held out a
little hope that one day Lucky would finally see her. When she was
sixteen, Lucky graduated and went to the police academy in
Shreveport, leaving her completely alone. She never realized how
much their lives were intertwined until he left, forcing her to make
new friends. It took a long time but she was finally able to get
over him and move on with the rest of high school.


Lucky
returned two weeks before her graduation and when she saw him for the
first time in three years, and all the feelings she thought had
disappeared suddenly resurfaced. They picked up almost exactly where
they’d left off, only this time she’d learned a thing or two
about men, so she didn’t try as hard to grab his attention, even
though she wanted to. They spent nearly every day together laughing
like old times. The two of them had grown almost inseparable. Then
everything changed between them graduation night, and then she’d
left for Seattle.


Cam
swallowed past the growing lump in her throat and refused to think
any further about that night. Four long years had passed since she
last talked to Lucky, and she wondered if he was even still in Willow
Bend. Would she see him again? Did he even want to see her? Was he
married? Did he have a family?

Questions
without answers swarmed in her head like an angry hive of bees.
Resolute to the fact that she was not going to get any sleep, she
slid from the bed and walked to the balcony just outside of her
bedroom. The oppressing August humidity greeted her and instantly
she felt like she was drinking water as she breathed. She was
thankful for the warm breeze, even though it did nothing but stir the
heat around. She leaned on the rail and stared out into the moonless
night. Cicadas and frogs hummed and croaked, together creating a
night symphony. She took a deep breath and as much as she hated to
admit it, a part of her loved Louisiana. The music, the food, and the
friends made it all seem worth while.

There
were no lights around, except for the single street light on the
garage across the yard. There were no neighbors because her aunt and
uncle lived in a two story plantation style home in the middle of no
one freaking cares Louisiana, on a small tobacco plantation. Cam
scanned the yard once more and finally decided she was far enough
from civilization for anyone to give a fig about what clothing she
wore. She lifted the hem of her tank top over her head, exposing her
skin to the night and leaving her in nothing but black lace boy
shorts. The warm breeze touched her dampened skin, cooling it
slightly. She leaned a hip against the railing and took another deep
cleansing breath.

Several long moments
passed as she enjoyed the night, then suddenly the tiny hairs on the
back of her neck stood on end. Something about the night changed.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. Quickly
she pulled her shirt back over her head just as she heard the faint
sound. She held her breath and listened as she slowly backed into the
shadows of her room. The sound vanished and the only thing she could
hear was her heartbeat as it throbbed in her ears. Before closing
the double doors to the balcony she squinted into the darkness once
more. Unable to see anything she threw the bolt on the doors. The
sound of the lock sliding home seemed to echo through her room. Had
someone really been out there watching her? She shivered, despite the
heat and climbed into bed. Perhaps it was just an animal, but her
mind refused to believe it. Something told her that whatever had
been hiding the shadows was definitely not an animal.

----------

"Get
up young lady. You ain’t gonna to lay about in de bed all de time.
If you’re gonna live under my roof you’re gonna get a job, and
dats de truth," David Savoi’s thick Cajun accent boomed from
the other side of the bedroom door.

Cam
rolled over and looked at the clock. The blue digits read six thirty
two. "You’ve got to be kidding me?" She groaned, pulling
a pillow over her head.

David
pounded on the door so hard the hinges groaned in protest. "If
you ain’t out of dat bed in five minutes I’ll drag you out by dat
mess you call hair," he bellowed.

"I’m
up, keep your pants on," Cam yelled back at him. She sat up and
rubbed the sleep from her eyes but her uncle’s persistent pounding
continued.

"Don’t
get dat attitude with me young’un. You ain’t too old for me to
take a strap to you, you ungrateful whelp.”


"You
can try," she said softly. She listened as his heavy footsteps
disappeared down the hall before finally hauling herself out of bed.
She dumped the contents on her suitcase on the bed and began to
rummage through what clothing she hadn’t sold for money. She
finally settled on a pair of white shorts and a tie-dyed fuchsia and
purple halter top.


Cam
shuffled into the bathroom and after brushing her teeth and washing
her face she applied eye liner and mascara. Then she quickly dampened
her hands and ran her fingers through her hair, making a neat mess.
She looked in the full length mirror and turned so she could see her
back, making sure her trail of stars tattoo was fully visible. She
knew her aunt and uncle would hate it and that thought gave her an
immense amount of pleasure. On her way out the door she slipped on a
pair of hot pink flip flops and made her way down to breakfast, her
shoes loudly slapping her feet with each step.





Cam
sipped her coffee at the iron patio set as she browsed the newspaper
for help wanted ads. It was barely seven in the morning and the heat
was already rising, but the umbrella in the middle of the table
offered shade. A gentle breeze sent the early morning smell of the
garden drifting lazily around her. Humming birds flew from one
blossom to another as bees buzzed in the roses nearby. The flower
garden was surrounded on three sides by eight foot rock walls covered
with deep green ivy. A small coy pod and a water fall sat nestled in
one corner. Lily pads spotted the water while cattails stood proudly
at the side. The gurgling waterfall gave a false sense of peace.
Everything was perfect inside the walls of her garden and as long as
she stayed nothing from out there could hurt her. Because of its
seclusion, the garden had always been her favorite place to escape
to. Her aunt never ventured to far outside because her perfectly
quaffed hair would frizz, or so she had said on numerous occasions.
Therefore, Cam was the only one who used the garden, which was fine
by her. She flipped through the pages when a bold headline caught
her attention.

Bayou
Butcher still at large:

Local
authorities report the body of twenty four year old Wendy Stevenson
was discovered by local fisherman late Tuesday night. The fishermen
stated he found the victim tangled in one of his crab traps. The
victim was found six miles south of highway 12. Stevenson was
reported missing early last week by her sister. If you have any
information that may help in the investigation please call 911 or
your local police department. Until the Butcher is apprehended a city
wide curfew is in affect. Curfew will go into affect at six o’clock
in the evening and last until six o’clock in the morning, and will
be strictly enforced.






Cam
closed the newspaper and tapped a finger against the black ink. Why
did that name sound familiar? A knot of dread formed in the pit of
her stomach. Something didn’t feel right but she just couldn’t
place her finger on what it was. Then her thoughts turned to the
night before and the feeling that she was being watched. Chills crept
down her spine. Pushing that thought to the back of her mind she
looked at her watch and sighed. If she was going to find a job, she
figured it would be better to actually leave the house.


“Sho
is glad ta see ya back ‘ere young’un,” came a husky female
voice from behind her. Cam started a little and whirled around.

“Lily,”
she said as she flew into the old black woman’s arms. She fought
the urge to cry as the woman folded her into a motherly embrace,
stroking her hair. Lily hugged her tightly to her large form. Cam
sighed; it felt good to be hugged again by someone who really meant
it. Finally she gave in and began to sob into the woman’s apron
front.

“Hush
now chile. Always does look worse a’fore a storm. Den you know
what’appens?” She didn’t wait for Cam to reply. “Dat dare sky
light’ens up and it’s the purtiest shade of blue ya never did
see. You gonna be jus fine honey chile.” Lily held Cam out away
from her and clucked her tongue loudly. “Let me look at’cha,”
she said. She did a little twirl and Lily clucked loudly.

“Didn’t
dey feed you up dere? Chile you ain’t nuthin but skin an bones.”

“I
ate.”

“Shut
up you and sit dat lil tail back in dat chair. Lily’s gonna bring
you sumtin ta eat.” Before Cam could protest, Lily spun on her
flat soled shoes and bustled back into the house. She wasn’t gone
long before reappearing carrying a tray piled high with food. Cam’s
mouth watered as the fragrant southern cooking wafted through the air
and surrounded her. Lily sat the tray in front of her.

“Eat.”
The demand was firm but gentle and Cam picked up the fork and dug in
with fervor. She groaned with delight as the first bite hit her
tongue. She quickly swallowed the andouille sausage and picked up a
fresh beignet. The sweet dough and powder sugar melted on her tongue
and she smiled. “I’ve missed your cooking Lily,” she said
around a mouth full of food. She poured another cup of coffee.

“Gurl,
don talk with yor mouth full. I don taught you better’an dat.”

Cam
swallowed. “Yes’m.”

“Dats
my gurl. Now tell me what don gone an brought you back’ere?”

Completely
at ease with the woman who practically raised and helped her through
some tough teen years, she launched into her story about Seattle, and
she had to admit it finally felt good to talk about it and get it out
in the open. Lily listened with rapt attention, only interjecting
her opinions ever so often. After she finished four cups of coffee
and her story she looked down at her watch and flinched. It was
nearly eight thirty. Cam stood from the wrought iron patio chair and
moved around the table to where she dropped a kiss on Lily’s cheek.



“I’ve
got to go and see if I can find a job,” she said.

“Dat’s
fine but don think we done talk’n bout you an all dat mess you done
gone and did to yer body,” Lily said.

“Love
you,” Cam called over her shoulder. She smiled when she heard a few
colorful Cajun words followed by a “Love you too chile.”

She
walked to the front drive and unlocked her aunt’s expensive car.
Jeann had agreed to the use of her car if Cam promised to bring back
a fifth of her favorite drink. She slid into the leather seat of the
jaguar and immediately pushed the button to release to top. Slowly
the canvas folded neatly behind the back seat. After spending six
years in a state that stayed wet the majority of the year, it felt
good to feel the sun. Even though she knew it would be unbearably hot
in a few short hours. The engine purred to life and she pulled her
big sunglasses over her face. She sped out of the driveway, spewing
gravel in all directions.

As
she flipped through the radio stations a bulletin on the Bayou
Butcher came on. It was the same report the newspaper had given.


Cam
groaned. She flipped the station and settled on her favorite rock
station. The Bayou Butcher didn’t have anything to do with her, so
why should she worry about it?