Dancing with Devils -

Chapter 6

One

Jamal Davis spent his Sunday evening alone at the downtown condo he purchased three months earlier. He knew Willard was going to die for over a year, and his time at the estate would come to a necessary end. He would keep his offices there for now, but he had already set up his own work area at his new residence. He sat at the panoramic windows high above the Manhattan streets and read the file Mindy had left behind for the third or fourth time. He also thought about Jacob. Jacob was spending his night in a jail cell in Brooklyn. That thought made him smile as he imagined the spoiled child rotting alone with the dregs of society.

Mindy was also no longer an issue. He had successfully cauterized that threat. He had gotten an update from a cop he kept in touch with. The police were buying the story that she was an innocent by stander shot in the cross fire between two rival gangs.

There were four bound files on the glass coffee table and he picked up the one that had the initial police report in it. His cop had gotten him a copy of the file for a nominal fee of two hundred dollars. Jamal had a few cops on they payroll, carefully recruiting them. He told all of them that they were not committing crimes by sharing information that would be available to the defense during discovery. They merely were accelerating the process and should be rewarded for injecting some efficiency in the bureaucracy. This was a lie, and even the cops on his payroll knew it. But most people needed a rationale rooted in logic to justify betraying their duty. Under paid, under appreciated, and low morale of fighting a losing war on drugs created a fertile ground to cultivate those that would bend the rules to Jamal's will.

The file he obtained painted the picture of Mindy's last moments alive. He smiled thinking about seeing her alive one moment, and then a bloody sack of meat on the ground in the next. His only regret was that he couldn't have been there to see it.

Mindy had been walking from a small corner grocery store and on the way back to her apartment. She apparently had gone to get wine. According to the police report she had been caught between two black males who were shooting at each other. It was assumed to be gang related. There were shell casings from two different caliber handguns on opposite sides of the street. It appeared that Mindy had been unlucky enough to have been at the wrong place and the wrong time. Two stray nine millimeter bullets struck her. One went through her left eye and exited above her right ear, taking a significant portion of her brain with it. The other went into her chest, turning her heart to pulp.

That was according to the police report. But Jamal knew that was bullshit. Her real killer was not a gang banger or even a man. Her real killer was a woman named Carol Murphy. Carol was a psychopath in the clinical sense of the word. Jamal had helped the woman a few times over the years and he liked her. He feared her too, but if Jamal had to name his closest friend that wasn't a billionaire he would have said it was her.

He had met Carol the first time when she was fifteen years old and he was not yet thirty and working as an associate at a law firm and was assigned Willard Mitchell's account. Willard had not yet made his billions but was on his way. Jamal would stay close to the man but needed the security of a job. He had student loans and needed money. Jamal had grown up poor, but his parents were rich compared to the life of poverty Carol had escaped.

He remembered how he met her.

Two

Carol grew up outside the five boroughs in a trailer park with her mother, Megan Murphy, who was 19 at the time of Carol's birth. Her mother worked as a cashier at the local convenient store for minimum wage and was barely scraping by with some government assistance. Unfortunately for Carol, her mother, discovered cocaine and vodka. Carol never knew who her father was, other than his first name was Dale. Her mother only referred to him as 'the piece of shit'. Everything was 'the piece of shits' fault growing up. When they ran out of milk because the money ran out before the end of the month, her mother would say, "You can thank the piece of shit if you're hungry". She wasn't exactly hungry alot but neither was she well fed.

Things went from bad to worse for Carol six months after Megan Murphy discovered crack cocaine and graduated from snorting to smoking. In those months Carol was more and more scared when she would come home from school, afraid she would find her mother dead or so high she would be paranoid or psychotic. Other times Carol would see the withdrawal when the elder Murphy could not afford the small baggies of crystal misery. The withdrawals were the worst and once Carol came home to find most of her clothes missing. Megan had sold them for a few dollars to feed the monkey she was carrying on her back. Carol had to wear the same pair of jeans to school for two weeks until she was able to buy another pair at the local GoodWill.

She might have lived through that nightmare of a childhood, but Megan met a man named Devon Truly. Devon was another lost soul in the ocean of drugs that were flooding the eastern seaboard during the war on drugs between 1980 and the new millennium.

Carol came home one afternoon to find her mother and Devon high on crack, sitting on the couch. They told her they had good news. Devon would be moving in with them. Carol was not sure this was good news. Devon scared her and she didn't like the way he looked at her. Megan either didn't notice or didn't care. She told Carol that Devon would make it easier for them because they could split rent and he would pay half the expenses. It would be like she was making twice as much money.

Unfortunately that windfall turned into more drugs and more binges.

Devon raped her the first time, two weeks after he moved in. At the time she was fourteen years old, a freshman in high school, and was in her room reading a history book. There was a quiz the next morning and she wanted to do well. Devon was smoking crack in the living room of the trailer, blowing the smoke out an open window. He came into her room without knocking. She was on her twin mattress on the floor, in her gym shorts and a tee shirt, laying on her stomach, a book open on her frameless bed.

He said, "Your mom lost her job yesterday." Carol knew this, but she wasn't sure what Devon expected her to do about it. He said, "I can't pay for this place all by myself so you are going to have to help out. You got any money?" Carol did not have any money and if she did, her mother, no doubt would have snorted or smoked it.

She said, "No. I don't have any money." This seemed to make Devon angry.

He screamed, "Just like your fucking mother. You god damn bitches are all the same. You suck us in with your pussy and tits and expect us to pay for your worthless asses."

Carol sat up and scooted up the mattress away from him, holding her book across her chest defensively. Devon looked angry and hungry. It scared her. She said, "Devon get out of my room". Sometimes a direct command would get through the haze of cocaine and he might follow the instructions. Other times it enraged him. This was one of the times it enraged him.

He said, "You don't have a room you fucking leech. I pay for this place and you are just an ungrateful little cunt. Everything in here is mine, including your worthless ass until you turn 18 and I kick you out." He pushed into her room and closed the door. He turned to her and said, "The only thing you have worth anything is that pussy of yours. You know how to use it yet?"

Carol was a virgin at the time but she knew what Devon was thinking. Before Devon her mother occasionally sold herself for drugs, so Carol was not unfamiliar with the realities of sex and what men wanted. She said, "Don't do this. Please don't do this." He came toward her and she tried to run. She feinted left and then went to her right, thought she would make it out the door. If she could get outside she could outrun Devon and hide somewhere until her mother came home. But Devon caught her wrist, twisted it, and she went down with a hard 'thump' onto the floor. Then he was on top of her.

She smelled his rotten breath on her face and could feel his excitement pressed against her. She twisted and screamed, but Devon was bigger and stronger. She felt his hand go between her legs and screamed again. She tried to kick with her legs and Devon was laughing. He said, "God damn this is going to be hot if you fight like that. Come on bitch. I'll teach you what God made you for."

He managed to pick her up by her hair and tossed her like a rag doll toward the mattress on the floor. Her head hit the wall and she was stunned, a bell seemed to ring in her ear, and her vision faded for a second. Then he fell on her, pulling her shorts and underwear down and off. He pinned her with his body, pushing her knees apart. Then there was a knife of pain as Devon, stoned out of his mind, used her. She felt something inside herself tear as she lay under him crying and pleading for him to stop. Eventually it did but something broke inside Carol's soul.

He left her there, blood and semen leaking out of her. She heard him go, stumbling out of her room and down the hallway. Carol slowly got up when she heard him bang into the kitchen looking for a beer. She locked the door to her room, curled up, and cried feeling ashamed, hurt, and afraid.

Her mother came home four hours later. She listened as he told her what had happened, at least his version of it. He started with, "Honey I don't want you to be pissed but I need to tell you something." He proceeded to tell Megan how he had gotten high and Carol had come on to him and he made a mistake. Carol thought, A mistake? Are you fucking kidding me?

Then Megan was screaming profanities at him. There was a crash as a plate hit a wall, narrowly missing Devon's head. She screamed, "She's only fourteen you asshole." Something more substantial hit a wall in the kitchen.

Devon tried to mollify her and said, "I'm sorry babe. I was high, and you know how I need it when I'm high. I mean you weren't here to take care of me so its not all my fault." Megan began to scream at him again.

He slapped her and said, "Babe you got to chill out. It was just a little fucking. I mean you know how girls her age want it all the time."

Carol's heart and blood went cold. Did he really think she wanted what he did to her. She felt something cold bloom in her heart. It was hate.

Megan screamed, "You mother fucker." She was crying.

Devon said, "You fucked Reggie last weekend, so don't be such a bitch about it. Shit happens. Let's not make a fucking federal case out of it."

Megan said, "I'm not fourteen and you told me to fuck Reggie 'cause you owed him for two baggies."

The fight seemed to be going out of both of them. Finally Devon said the magic words. "Sweetie, I'm sorry it won't happen again. Let me make it up to you. I got some money left over from that thing last weekend. I'll go buy us a bag of the good stuff and we can have a nice night. I'm sure Carol is fine."

Her mother said, "I need to go check on her."

Carol listened until he left to go get more drugs. Then her mother lightly knocked on her door and said, "Carol, you okay in there?'

Carol opened the door and her mother looked at her. Her face fell taking in her daughters tear tracked cheeks. She asked, "Oh honey I'm so sorry. Are you hurt?"

Carol was hurt, but she didn't think badly or badly enough to need a doctor. She was still in shock at what had happened. She said, "I'm okay mom." She let her mother hug her and said, "Devon, um, did things to me that I didn't like. I swear I didn't want him to do that."

Her mother said, "I know Carol and its never going to happen again okay. I'm here and I promise it will never happen again." Carol knew this was a lie. She had been living with an addict for a parent for almost half her life and there was one thing she was sure of. Addicts are liars. But she said, "Okay mom."

Her mother had taken her to the bathroom, had her take a long shower, and told her some hard truths about being a girl who would become a woman. She was brushing Carol's hair as the two stood in front of the mirror. She said, "I need to tell you some things Carol." Carol had nodded.

Her mother said, "That thing that boys have between their legs, that girls don't, rule their lives. I'm not even sure its their fault. They were born that way I guess, but what I'm saying is boys are always wanting to do that thing with girls. You are growing up now and you are starting to look like a woman. You are pretty and boys are going to want you to let them have sex with you. It's just what boys do."

Carol said, "I don't want to ever do that again. It hurt so bad."

Her mom nodded and said, "I know honey. Devon won't do that again, but you can't tell anyone what happened. You understand. This has to be our secret. If anyone ever found out it would be really bad, not just for him, but for you too."

Carol didn't want to tell anyone anything. She was ashamed and afraid no one would believe she didn't want it. It was her word against Devon's. That was at least how she looked at it. Her mother continued, "I talked to Devon and he's sorry. He made a mistake and he's going to pay for it."

Carol thought, yeah with a bag of crack. She thought what he did to her was worth more than a bag of crack. Carol said, "Please don't let him stay here mom. Please I don't want him to do that to me again."

Her mother sighed, looking twenty years older than she was, and said, "He won't do that again. I promise. But I can't kick him out. I lost my job and he's helping me pay for things right now. Maybe when I get a better job, but I promise he won't ever make a mistake with you again."

Carol hated her mother calling it a 'mistake', like he had accidentally left the milk out on the counter instead of returning it to the refrigerator.

Carol looked at the floor knowing her mother's words were a lie. The only power she had was to not believe her. She said defeated, "Okay mom". It was all she could think to say.

Carol saw her mother clearly that day. She was an addict and the only thing she loved or cared about were the small white crystals that came in small ziplock bags. Carol realized the power those little baggies held over her mother and also over Devon. There was nothing more important than those baggies and for the first time in her life she understood who and what her mother had become.

In a flash of adult insight, she remembered the men before Devon who showed up in the days before the government check would come. Her mother was selling sex for drugs. Before she always believed her mother when she told her it was the last time, and just something she had to do to get to the end of the month.

She remembered the time her mother had first sold the silverware in the kitchen for a bag of the stuff.

She remembered being made fun of by the other girls for carrying her three outfits with her in her backpack to school so her mother wouldn't sell them. And now she saw a woman who would let her daughter be raped by a man and excuse it for those little baggies.

Those baggies held immense power that had taken her mother from her. Devon had also taken something even more fundamental from her because of those little baggies. She looked at her mother in reflection and saw a husk of a person. Her mother's soul had been killed by those little baggies and Devon was a monster because of them. Carol shivered feeling desperately alone.

But deep down whatever had been taken from her was replaced by a cold, unrelenting fury. She refused to bow to the power of the baggie. And she would be damned if Devon would rape her again. She was alone, but she would not live in fear. She would not be broken, and she would not surrender her own soul to those little baggies. And she would never again surrender her body to Devon or anyone else. She would die first.

She was about to give voice to her feelings when the trailer door popped open and Devon called, "Honey I got the good shit. Come on let's party our asses off. We deserve it."

Carol saw her mother smile, a genuine smile of pleasure, at those words. She saw again that raw power her addiction and those little bags of white crack rocks held. Carol wished she was as powerful as those little white crystals. She also knew that Devon would rape her again. Well he would try anyway. She would have to do something about that.

Her mother patted her shoulder gently and said, "Carol I think you are going to be fine. Go study. You have a quiz tomorrow."

Carol said, "Okay mom". Megan left her in the bathroom and hurried to the kitchen where Devon was already loading a glass pipe.

Three

Carol failed her quiz the next morning, and the ones that followed in the week after Devon had abused her. She couldn't seem to keep her mind off the feeling of Devon on top of her and the smell of his fetid breath. She was dreamt about it and lost sleep. She was afraid most of the time, but she also obsessed about what she could do about it. All of her grades dropped like a stone and if someone would put all her grades on a calendar, the day she was raped would stand out like a steep cliff. But no one did.

The terror was the worst in the room where she had been raped. At night she would lay on the old mattress on the floor of her room listening, expecting him to come back and take her again. Every noise she heard she was sure he was coming for her. She hated the powerless feeling. She had to find a way to stop him. She had to do something. She knew it was only a matter of time.

She found an answer to her problem in the wood working and shop room at her high school. The teacher sometimes let students eat lunch in the workshop if they were finishing a project or needed extra time. There were all sorts of tools hanging on the walls or in tool boxes. She took her brown bag lunch that consisted of two pieces of day old bread with a smear of butter between them and an apple. She sat in the back and eventually her eye found something that might be useful.

On her way out she made sure no one was watching, and slipped the tool off the peg it hung on, and into her backpack. It was a leather awl and she somehow felt safer for having it. The sharp point of the tool was menacing and powerful in the damage that might be inflicted with it. When she got home she put it under her pillow. That night as she lay in bed she gripped the tool in her right hand as a talisman of her own power. She finally was able to sleep for a few hours anyway.

Devon stayed away from her for a month, and even cooked dinner for her and her mother once. The binges on crack cocaine even slowed marginally. He used the word 'family' more often, like he was testing it out. He talked about how family had to be there for each other no matter what, and how nothing was more important to him than that. His words were lies, and Carol knew it. He was afraid she might tell someone what he had done.

She knew what he was doing and she hated him all the more for it. But she was glad he was staying away from her, if for no other reason than self interest. After a month he assumed that if she had not told anyone she never would.

Her mother got another job as a waitress at an all night diner. She was working on a Saturday and Devon was home with Carol, alone for the first time since he had raped her. He was bored and decided to pass the time with his pipe and a bottle of beer.

Carol locked herself in her room, praying he would pass out or die. But of course her prayers went unanswered and sometime after midnight Devon came to her room, stoned and angry. The crack cocaine had worked him into a psychotic frenzy. She heard him try the knob of her locked door and then say, "Open the door you little bitch".