Date: Fri, 21 Feb 2003 08:10:27 -0500
From: Stan Unknown <stan992001@hotmail.com>
Subject: Chapter 10 of Obsession

After the night his parents had turned their back on him,
Bill's attitude had totally changed. He started hanging out
with the roughest crowd in school and skipping classes as
often as he could get away with. If he had to pay for it
with an occasional beating from his Dad, what of it? He knew
he would eventually pay both his parents back for everything
they had done to him.

Bill found an old weight set of his father's in the basement
and started working out daily. That became his life. School
became something he had to endure until he reached 16.

As Bill became stronger, his grades started dropping just as
steadily. He barely graduated high school, even though he
had a high IQ. Sometimes, he purposely missed test questions
just to be able to go home and show his parents what he had
made.

The beatings by his Dad stopped shortly before Bill's 16th
birthday. His Dad had come into his room because of Bill's
report card and had started to take off his belt. Bill had
already had enough of being bare assed across his bed while
his Dad whipped him until he was tired, so he took the belt
away from him and punched him in the nose, bloodying it. His
father had never tried that again. Bill kind of missed it.

Bill was the official bad boy in town. Everyone gossiped
about how the son of a doctor could have turned out so bad.
Bill drank and smoked anything he could get his hands on. He
came and went as he pleased, which suited him just fine. His
parents had given up on him long ago.

He started to break into cars to get money for his liquor
and drugs. He found it amazingly simple to find people who
would buy obviously stolen property from him.

He barely graduated from high school. The only thing that
saved him was his grades from his early years in high school
and the fact that Bill knew he didn't want to have to go
another year. So he made sure his grades were good enough to
pass, but other than that, he didn't really give a flying
fuck.

He started smoking more and more pot. He made friends with
local drug dealers and that was when he made his first real
mistake. He was told that he could earn enough for a used
car if he would drive a car loaded with marijuana in the
trunk to Atlanta from his home in Miami. He would be given
expense money for the trip there and back and when he got
back, the car would be his. That was a no-brainer to Bill.
And he was tired of walking or bumming a ride everywhere.

So he accepted the offer. But he got greedy. He thought
about the long drive and how lonely it was going to be. All
he had was the radio to keep him company and the speakers
didn't work very well. So he pulled off at the first rest
stop he came to, backed into a parking space at the very end
of the lot, and opened the trunk.

The marijuana was compressed into bricks and packed tightly
into garbage bags. Bill took out the knife he always carried
and pried open the tape that held the first garbage bag tied
securely. He found the bricks and carefully opened a small
slit in the end of one. He had his own baggy, so it was easy
to use the tip of his knife to rake out a small amount at a
time into the baggy. He took his time so it wouldn't be
evident that he had stolen part of what he was transporting.
But he soon had at least an ounce in his baggy.

He carefully used the same tape that he had pried lose to
seal the bag back and shut the trunk lid. Bill knew he was
way too smart to be caught taking a small amount like an
ounce when he had several hundred pounds of pot in his
trunk.

He had made sure and had brought rolling papers with him. He
got them out and carefully rolled three joints. That should
do him, no matter how good or bad it was, he thought.

He started driving again and lit up a joint. He was
pleasantly surprised. THIS WAS REALLY GOOD SHIT!!!! He had a
buzz after the first toke.

The shitty speakers weren't as much of a problem anymore. He
cranked the stereo up as much as it would go as he sped down
the highway. The Miami rock station he always listened to
started the organ introduction to "Free Bird" by Lynyrd
Skynyrd just as he was finishing the first big joint he had
rolled. Bill was ecstatic about how good this pot was. He
was considering stopping before he got to Atlanta and seeing
if he could open a few more bricks. Just a little out of
this one, and a little out of that one and he could fill his
baggy all the way up. He figured it might hold at least a
quarter pound.

Bill was grooving to the final guitar solo as he sped down
the road. One habit he had was driving faster when he was
listening to really good rock music. His right foot tended
to push down harder on the gas pedal as his left kept pace
with the music. And he wasn't watching his speed at all.
(This is me, guys. Hehehe I do this constantly. It's a
wonder I haven't been pulled over during a great song!!
And Free Bird is my favorite!!!)

He was going 90 in a 65 mile per hour zone when he passed a
Florida State Patrol car sitting behind a fence where it
couldn't be seen. It was on top of him within minutes.

Bill was a hundred miles from home. He had no idea where he
was, and was still too stoned to try and outrun the cops.
Plus, the car he was driving was no match for the State
Patrol car anyway. He knew that. So, he didn't have a choice
other than try and talk his way out of this. He hid his
baggy under the seat and pulled over to the side. At least
he had all his windows down so the smell of the pot wouldn't
give him away.

`Be cool, Bill,' he thought. `You can talk your way out of
this.'

The State Patrol officers behind him took a long time before
they finally walked up behind him. Bill was getting more and
more nervous as they waited. He was almost relieved when
they finally started to walk up.

"Get out of the car, please," the first one said.

"What did I do, ossifer," Bill slurred. He was higher than
he thought.

"Get out of the car. NOW!" the officer yelled, drawing his
gun.

`What the fuck is happening?' Bill thought, as he opened his
door and staggered out. He was immediately thrown across the
hood of his car, spread eagled, and frisked. Of course, they
found the knife, first thing.

"You are under arrest for possession of a stolen car. You
also have an illegal weapon on your person. You are also
being charged with driving 90 in a 65 miles per hour zone.
You have the right to remain silent, you have the right to
an attorney...." Bill kind of didn't remember much after
that. His mind was filled with thoughts about what was going
to happen to him.

The car his "friends" gave to him to drive turned out to be
stolen. They just wanted to use him as a "mule" to get their
drugs delivered and really didn't give a shit about him. He
was becoming a pain in the ass anyway.

They obviously found all the marijuana. Bill was given a
choice: Going to jail for a long time or joining the army as
a first offender. Back then, they felt like the army could
rehabilitate young criminals. Now, they send them to boot
camps.

Bill didn't want to go to prison. He might be raped like
Father Dan had done to him so many times. So, he chose the
army.

And Bill had really liked that. He got to shoot real guns
all of the time. He got to prepare to kill other people,
like he'd been planning to do anyway.

Bill was now the model soldier. He progressed fast enough
that he was asked if he wanted to enter the exclusive
Rangers division. Bill was thrilled. He would get training
on how to kill from long distance, to blow up buildings, to
do everything he had been dreaming about since he was a
small boy. He had found his place in life.

So he had jumped at the chance. And now he was a time bomb.
And it was still ticking.


                      *****************

"Hello Mr. and Mrs. Bowden. Thanks for letting Bri and I
come over," Mike said as he shook hands with both of Rob's
parents.

"No problem at all, Mike. What's this all about anyway,"
Rob's Dad asked.

"Can we all go sit down somewhere? This is going to take a
few minutes to fill you both in," Mike answered.

The three of them took turns telling Rob's parents
everything. Well, almost everything. They left out the fact
that Bri had met Bill in a gay chat room. They just said
that he had met him over the net.

Both of Rob's parents had shocked looks on their faces.
"Where's Rob's car right now?" Mr. Bowden asked.

"They towed it into the police lot. The Detective I talked
to said he is sure that it will be totaled," Mike answered.

"Well, it's more important that all of you are safe," Mr.
Bowden answered.

"That's one reason why I wanted to talk to you both. Rob's
been threatened too. I think it would be better if Rob
stayed at my house until Bill is caught. I'll drive the boys
to and from school. I've already talked to my partners and
they've agreed to cover for me so I can do that," Mike said.

"But how long will it be?" Mrs. Bowden asked.

"They know what kind of car he's driving and the color. I
don't think it will be very long," Mike answered. "But we
really don't have any idea."

"Rob, is this what you want to do?" she asked.

"Yes Mom. Bri's the one he's really after. I think he'll
feel better if there's someone with him all of the time. And
Mike can't take that much time off from work. Plus, he works
every other Saturday," Rob answered.

"What do you think, Stan?" she asked her husband.

"Both of you agree to stay in the house while Mike's away?"
Mr. Bowden asked.

"Yes sir," they both agreed.

"Then I agree with it. Splitting them up might just give
Bill two targets instead of one. Will the police be watching
the house?" Mr. Bowden asked.

"No sir. The Detective said they didn't have enough proof
that Bill is dangerous to do that yet," Mike answered.

"But you said that he wrote that he wanted to kill all three
of you. Isn't that enough?" Mrs. Bowden asked.

"When the Detective comes back from Charlotte, I'll ask him
again. They should at least drive by several times at
night," Mike answered.

"Well Rob, I guess you had better go up stairs and pack,"
she said.

"Come on, Bri," Rob said, as he and Bri walked out of the
room.


                       ****************

"Mr. Anderson? This is Detective Jones. I'm in Charlotte off
I-85 at the Holiday Inn on Lexington Avenue. Can you please
give me directions?" Justyn asked.

"Hello Detective. Sure. Take I-77 north. It is only about a
mile further up from where you are. Go about 3 miles to exit
56. Take a right and follow that road for about 2 miles.
You'll see a fork to the left. There's a green mail box
there with Anderson on it. That road will go for about a
mile but it will bring you right up to our house," Mr.
Anderson replied.

"Thank you, sir. I'm ready to leave now. See you in a few
minutes," Justyn answered. "Bye."

Justyn had already checked out and packed, so he grabbed his
bag, leaving the key on the dresser, and walked out. He
unlocked his car, put the bag in the trunk, and drove off.

It was easy to follow Mr. Anderson's directions and he was
soon on the steep path that led up to his house. Justyn saw
where a car had gone off the side of the road and was sure
it was where Billy had died.

Mr. Anderson walked out of a huge building that was off to
the side from his house when Justyn drove up. He was a large
man who looked very strong. He didn't look very friendly,
though.

"Hello Mr. Anderson. I'm Detective Jones," Justyn said,
holding out his hand.

"You don't look old enough to be a Detective," Mr. Anderson
said as he shook Justyn's hand.

"I can assure you that I am," Justyn answered as he got out
his wallet containing his Detective shield and showed it to
Mr. Anderson.

"What do you want to know?" Mr. Anderson asked.

"First, why do you think your son was murdered? If Billy was
driving fast down the road I just came up, it would be easy
to lose control going down that hill," Justyn said. "Plus,
he was driving an old car. Maybe the brakes failed."

Mr. Anderson stared at Justyn for a moment, then said, "Come
with me a minute." He turned and walked back to the huge
building where he had come from as Justyn had driven up.

Justyn followed him into the building and entered another
world. There were old muscle cars everywhere. Justyn could
count over ten Corvettes alone. There were four men working
on several of the cars. Everything was as clean as a new car
showroom.

"This is what I do for a living. We restore old cars like
these to perfect condition and then sell them. Billy and I
restored his Z-28 ourselves. Billy did a lot of the work,
but I checked everything he did. He was almost as good a
mechanic as I was. You want to see his car?" Mr. Anderson
asked.

"Yes sir, I do," Justyn answered.

"It's out back," Mr. Anderson said, leading the way towards
a rear door.

They passed a dirt track race car at the end. "Do you race,
Mr. Anderson?" Justyn asked.

"Not any more. I used to. That was Billy's car. He started
racing when he was 14. He was really good, too. I'll show
you his trophies when we go inside," Mr. Anderson answered.

They exited the building and immediately saw the wrecked
Camaro. Nothing had been done to repair it, even though they
obviously could have in the shop Justyn had just walked
through.

The front had caved in where it had hit a tree. That was
obvious. But the parts of the car that hadn't been damaged
by the wreck looked brand new. The paint gleamed like a new
car finish.

Mr. Anderson walked around to the passenger door and opened
it. He brought back two parts of a brake hydraulic cable. It
was cleanly cut in two.

"Do you think that could have happened in the wreck?" he
asked Justyn.

"No. That's too clean of a cut," Justyn answered.

"That's what I told our stupid police. But they wouldn't
listen. They called it an accident and left it at that," Mr.
Anderson said.

"Did your son have a computer in his room?" Justyn asked.

"Yep. He got it for Christmas when he was 14. He had his own
phone line too. He paid for it himself from the money he
earned working here," Mr. Anderson answered.

"Is it still there?" Justyn asked.

"Billy's room is exactly the way it was before he was
murdered. You want to see it?" Mr. Anderson asked.

"Actually, I would like to boot it up and see if I can find
anything that the man I am hunting might have sent Billy,"
Justyn answered.

"I'm not going to let you snoop through my son's personal
messages, Detective," Mr. Anderson said.

"Look, Mr. Anderson, you said you wanted to help catch this
son of a bitch. I know what I might find isn't going to help
Billy but it might help the boy he's after now. It might be
important," Justyn said loudly, as he got right up in Mr.
Anderson's face.

Mr. Anderson just stared at Justyn for a moment, then got a
small smile on his face. "Maybe you're old enough to be a
Detective after all," he answered. "Ok, you can look through
the damn computer." He turned and walked steadily towards
the house. Justyn had to hurry to catch up to him.

                        To Be Continued

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