Prey of the Predator

By Lance Hodgdon

“I’m afraid I’m going to hurt Natalie like I did my other girlfriends. I love her. I do not want to hurt her.”
“I don’t understand, Joshua. What did you do to your other girlfriends?”
“I killed them.”

With those three words, Tyra Wells, newly licensed mental health counselor, is sent on a journey where nothing will be what it seems, a journey that will have her questioning her career choice, her responsibility to her client, and her own moral code. Tyra Wells is fresh out of graduate school. Her father Tyler and her sister Tiffany have sacrificed much so that she can realize her dream of becoming a licensed mental health counselor. They have even managed to get her an office where she can start her own private practice. However, when patients do not come flocking to her door, she gets discouraged and decides to take a nap on her office couch. When she awakens, a strange man is smelling her hair. Startled, she jumps up and asks him what he is doing. He tells her he is there to see the doctor. Thus, Tyra Wells is introduced to her very first client, Joshua Denser. When Joshua explains that he is there because he doesn’t want to hurt Natalie Hayes, a girl he loves, Tyra finds out his chilling secret. He confesses to murdering five past girlfriends. Throughout the next four sessions, Joshua recounts how and why he killed these five women. In each case, the relationship starts innocently enough, but soon they each blank him with a love so suffocating that he must rid himself of them – permanently. He takes their bodies to an abandoned warehouse, where he dumps them in the boiler room. Tyra begins to have nightmare after nightmare about these girls, the warehouse and Joshua Denser until she is brought to the point where she believes that she must confide in her best friend, and new boyfriend, Jake Hollander and her sister Tiffany. After Tyra is able to get Joshua to give her directions to the warehouse, she goes there with Jake to find the abandoned bodies of Joshua’s victims. What she finds when she enters the boiler room shocks her to the core of her being and leads to an ultimate showdown with Joshua Denser. Yet, that is only the beginning. More shocking surprises are in store for her as she finds out the truth about Joshua Denser and his new girlfriend Natalie Hayes and explores her own budding romance with Jake Hollander, the boy who has been her best friend since she was in third grade.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lance Hodgdon
• Release date: Feb 5, 2015
• ISBN: 9780988998643

Lance Hodgdon

Lance Hodgdon is a retired teacher who has been telling stories in the great oral tradition his entire life. He has made the decision to devote the rest of his life to writing some of these stories down and to adding to that large list of stories with new ones. This novel is the first of those stories that he has published. It began life as a story told to his English classes about a camping trip, an abandoned home, a mysterious woman, and her dog. It morphed into a movie script that was filmed in Salisbury, Maryland several years ago, and finally became this novel.Lance is currently living in the country in the mountains of Western Maryland. He spends his day, hiking in the mountains, kayaking when it is warm enough, and mostly writing.

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To my beautiful and loving wife, Rhonda, for being the light that guides my life, and to my children, Noelle and Kendra, for completing my family and giving me joy.

And to Carol Tribut for taking the time!

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Acknowledgements

When I think back upon the journey that brought this story from the germ of inspiration to this story you are about to read, I can think of so many people I would like to thank. First off, there is my father, who awoke the spark of story-telling in me and then fanned it to flame on those wonderful summer nights around the campfire. I followed his lead many years later in the classroom where I did my best to carry on the oral tradition by entertaining my classes with stories. As a result, I would like to thank the many students who sat patiently while I attempted to regale them with my visions of adventure throughout my thirty-four years of teaching.

A huge word of thanks goes to Carly Mae Middleton, a former student, a current best friend, who has been there for me every day, cheering me on and listening to my ideas since she graduated from high school. She’s a special one, in case you didn’t know!

A VERY large thanks goes to Carol Tribut for taking the time to comb through the rough draft in search of mistakes I had overlooked, and, of course, for taking the time to go over each and every one of them with me.

I would be remiss in not giving a heart-felt thanks to the wonderful crew who helped me bring the original screenplay to life. Your interpretations of the characters were a huge help to me as I was writing this novel. As a result, my gratitude goes to all those who played major parts: Krista Corbin, Dio Cobian, Jessica Corbin, Lux Haac, Steve Young, Siobhan O’Loughlin, Noelle Hodgdon, Jessica Haden, Whitney Topping, and Jacklyn Sander. I would also like to thank those who played minor speaking roles: Brian Engler, Daniel Haugh, Melissa Morales, and Esther Morrissey. I would be remiss in not mentioning those who showed up to be in the background: Kelly Cropper, Diego Delano, Kendra and Rhonda Hodgdon, Tabatha Jones, Laura Krahl, Alle Rioux, Perri Smith, Brittany Tyndall, and Michael Wu. Additionally, I would like to extend my thanks to Shannon Myrer, the Young family, the O’Loughlin family, the Brumfield family, and Mr. and Mrs. Bill Calloway (May they forever rest in peace) for allowing us to use their homes for filming. Thanks should also go to Lombardi’s Restaurant and Zia’s Pastaria Restaurant in Salisbury, Maryland; Little Italy Italian Restaurant in Ocean City, Maryland, and the Salisbury Airport in Salisbury, Maryland for the use of their establishments.

I would, of course, like to thank my family: my wife Rhonda, my two wonderful daughters, Dana Noelle and Kendra Yale, and my mother, Evelyn. I love you all, so very much!

Also, my two sisters, Cindy and Robin helped shape me into the person I am today. I am grateful to you both for that.

In the end, I would like to thank all those people who have built the world-wide web and who have opened up a new and exciting world for indie-authors, and those software engineers who have developed the tools to make the job easy on us. Your dedication to helping others is inspiring and much appreciated.

Finally, I would like to thank, you, the reader. I hope you enjoy this story, and I also hope that you feel it was worth the time you invested in it. Thank you!

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Prologue

He knew she was there hiding in the bushes. He knew it the moment he stepped into the yard. She would be there. Where else would she be? She couldn’t live without him. She couldn’t bear to be separated. She would hound him until the day he returned her love. The sad thing? That day would never come. Best to ignore her. Acknowledging her presence would just make things worse.

Ducking his head, he stepped through the hole in his back fence and walked along the side of his garage. She wasn’t there. That was good, but that only meant that she was probably hiding somewhere else in the backyard. Picking his way through the random junk that had been tossed in the narrow space between this side of the garage and the yard fence, he emerged out into his backyard. Immediately, he knew where she was, without looking. He could feel her desperate gaze on him from behind the shrubbery on the opposite side of the detached garage. Well, he had had enough. He could take no more of her unyielding, unwavering, smothering attention. It was finally time for action, but he would do nothing here, not out in the yard. He would act like he hadn’t seen her and move purposefully to his house, open the back door, and step inside. It would be only a matter of time before she gathered up the courage to come knocking. He would smile at her. He would invite her in. Then he would do it when she was safe and sound inside, away from prying eyes.

Stepping into his kitchen, he reached toward his utensil drawer and grabbed a cutting board and an iron skillet and then pulled a butcher knife out of the wooden knife caddie on his kitchen counter. He laid them on the counter and stepped over to his refrigerator and pulled out a whole chicken. Planning on cutting it into pieces, frying a few up for himself and then freezing the leftovers, he threw the chicken on the counter, opened the plastic wrapper and then removed the bird, careful to hold the package over the sink so that the drippings would not spill on the counter or floor. Quickly, expertly, he rinsed off the bird and then plopped it down on the cutting board. With a smile, borne of satisfaction, he pulled a leg away from the body and then sliced it with a deft, hard cut with the knife. The sharp knife easily sliced through the joint, and he tossed the leg into the frying pan. As quickly he grabbed the other leg just as the staccato report of knuckles on wood sounded from his back door. He froze for a moment, gathering himself for what he was about to do, then smiling grimly, he turned and stalked to the kitchen door. He could see her silhouette through the lace curtains that covered the back door window. He knew she would be there. The time for action had come, but it must be handled with finesse.

Carefully, he framed a smile on his face and then opened the door. He must appear welcoming.

You’re here! she said, as if surprised by that fact. He knew that was just an act. She had watched him walk in the house, for Christ’s sake! Well, he could act too, he smiled to himself.

Hello! I wasn’t expecting you! That’s a nice surprise! He stepped back and motioned for her to enter. Come in! Come in! he said, as if excited to see her.

Oh, ok! she said, delighted, genuinely surprised at his offer. She stepped hurriedly through the door as if she were afraid that it might be withdrawn if she tarried. He quickly stepped aside and again motioned her further into the room, and when she moved past him, he stepped behind her and quickly, slyly shut the back door and twisted the deadbolt lock. She didn’t notice. Her back was turned, and she was too wrapped up in her own emotions.

He stepped forward, and she whirled and threw her arms around his neck. I love you! You know I do! You must love me too! she cried, squeezing him tightly.

He shuddered at her touch. At first, back in the beginning, he had liked touching her, but now, after she had begun her assault on his heart, he had learned to despise it. Now, he found it repulsive, but it didn’t matter. The time for action had come!

Like a viper striking, he brought his arms up, under, and through her two arms. With a deft motion he cut through her grip and broke it. As quickly, his own hands snapped onto her neck, and he began squeezing. At first, she gasped as if in pleasure, as if she welcomed his touch, no matter what the intent, but perhaps she did not quite grasp the malice that was behind that grip. She made a choking sound and tried to speak, but no words would come out. He tightened his grip even more, his eyes flashing in excitement and anger. Her face became red and her eyes bulged, and at last, she realized that he meant her harm. Her eyes went wide in shock and surprise, not yet quite comprehending the fact that he did not love her, that he, in fact, had deadly intentions.

She coughed again and finally began to struggle. Her hands were free, but she was struggling for breath. She gasped. Don’t! she finally managed, and she brought her arms up and began flailing at him. Her hands began to beat his face. A right hand slapped his nose hard, and blood splattered against the wall. His head snapped to the left, and as it did, she twisted hard and pushed forward.

To his utter amazement, he found himself falling. His head banged on the floor hard. Stars flashed before his eyes, and he released his grip on her neck. She rolled away from him gasping for breath. He shook his own head trying to clear it as he stared at the yellow pattern of the kitchen linoleum. By the time he had cleared his head enough to stand, she had already struggled to her knees. He could see her fumbling on the counter for a weapon to fight him off, but from her knees she could not see the top of the counter. Her hands brushed by the knife and then grabbed the cutting board, instead. He had seen enough. He pounced on her, but she was too quick. Pivoting, she swung the cutting board at him, striking him flush along the side of his face. The board stung his cheek and snapped his head to the right, and once again he found himself falling. He sprawled on the floor as she stood at once and raced by him.

She lunged for the back door and violently twisted the doorknob, violently yanking on it, but it refused to open. Screaming in frustration, she whirled and sprinted into the dining room.

Groaning in pain, he stood, shook his head, and stepped to the counter, angrily kicking the cutting board out of his way. He could have picked it up and used it as a weapon to bludgeon her, but he had something else in mind. Instead, he turned back to the counter. Next to the raw chicken with its half-severed leg lay the butcher knife. He eyed it with malignant glee. It would get the job done quite nicely. Deliberately, he snatched it up and turned toward the dining room.

By the time he entered that room, he could hear her in the bedroom fumbling with the door to the adjacent room, his mother’s bedroom. That door had been locked for some time. It was where his mother had died and no one had entered it since the night she choked to death on a chicken bone. The girl could fumble with that door all she like. She would find no passage there. He could hear her whimpering from fear and frustration as he approached.

Stepping quietly in the room, he watched for a second as she desperately yanked on the doorknob in the belief that she might be able to pull it open through the sheer force of her desperation. She could not. She was so preoccupied with her effort to get through the door, however, that she did not hear him step up behind her. He found that oddly funny. She would have no idea what hit her. Smiling, he drew back his knife hand and then plunged the long blade into her back. It went through her, all the way through her, pinning her to the bedroom door. She jerked, cried out, frantically attempted to reach the blade in her back, jerked again, gasped, and then with an odd sigh, relaxed into the posture of death. He regarded her for a moment, so peaceful now, so quiet, like an angel, and then he placed his other hand in the middle of her back and yanked the blade out. She slid to the floor and then lay there, unmoving, her wide, lovelorn, betrayed eyes staring up at him. He bent down to her. There was something he wanted to say to her. Something important. He placed his lips near her perfect, white, earlobes and he whispered.

You shouldn’t have loved me. Standing, he stalked out of the room…

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One

Tyler Wells shifted uncomfortably in his seat and leaned forward anxiously. The line had seemed unending, but the W’s were finally coming up. It wouldn’t be long now. He could see Tyra’s red hair through the crowd of graduates who were patiently waiting their turn to take that glorious walk across the stage, to extend that trembling hand, to wrap fingers around that diploma substitute, to blush and smile and continue onward across the stage. He glanced to his left and eyed the prim, matronly woman who sat there. She studied the proceedings under her black, straw bonnet with bored eyes. Tyler wished she wasn’t there. Her close proximity made him uncomfortable. He felt a hand lightly touch his right thigh, and he glanced quickly toward his other daughter, Tiffany. She was pointing at the stage. He turned to see why.

She’s up next, Tiffany smiled at him. You got your camera ready?

In surprise, Tyler looked down at the camera in his hands. He had nearly forgotten about it. Directing a sheepish smile toward Tiffany, Tyler fumbled with the camera and lifted it clumsily. When he peered through the viewfinder, he was unable locate the stage, at first, much less his oldest daughter.

Tyra Wells, the voice called out from the podium. Tyler pulled the camera away from his eye and peered over it. His oldest daughter had begun her journey across the stage. She looked so young and grown up at the same time. He had sacrificed so much to bring her to this point, and now it was finally over. She was a college student working on her Master’s Degree at this second, but when her journey across the stage was completed, she would be a young lady with a Mental Health Counselor’s degree, qualified and ready to set up a practice of her very own. It didn’t seem real to him. As he brought up the camera and settled it against his eye, a myriad of images flashed in his mind: newborn Tyra, little more than a red thing in a white bundle, cooing in her mother’s arms; four year old, Tyra, her smile bigger than the world, kicking her feet in the air as she looked back at him from her seat on the swing, squealing Higher, Daddy! Higher!; eight year old Tyra, looking up at him from impossibly huge, brown eyes asking why her mother had gone to heaven and if she still loved them; he, his heart breaking, valiantly trying to hold back the tears and failing, looking first at her and then down at tiny Tiffany playing idly on the floor with a doll, not having an answer for either of them; twelve year old Tyra and eight year old Tiffany, holding hands, running through the woods, returning home after an afternoon of playing hide and seek among the trees; sixteen year old Tyra, her eyes flashing with excitement, running to the door to welcome her date to the school dance, her first; eighteen year old Tyra, looking radiant and gorgeous in a glorious, white, sequined gown, her shoulders smooth, her smile bright and beautiful, the months of pent-up excitement shining in her eyes, telling him as they waited for her date, Don’t worry, Dad. No man will ever replace you in my heart! You will always be my number one guy! He, filled with happiness and gratitude, a pang of jealousy shaded by a curious guilt filling his heart, smiling at her and giving her a hug; twenty-one year old Tyra, looking up at him seriously from her chair in the living room, telling him she had finally decided what she wanted to be, When she got big, (he, smiling at her word choice), then explaining that she needed to go to school two more years to get an M.A. in Mental Health Counseling, looking up at him in all seriousness and promising that if he helped her that she would start paying him back as soon as her practice was up and running; he, looking at her with pride, smiling and telling her that they would work it out, hugging her tightly, but then looking up over her shoulder and wondering where he would get the money; Twenty-three year old Tyra with tears in her eyes hugging him and telling him that she had found an apartment and asking for his blessings. Twenty-four year old Tyra, running up to him, clutching the results of her state board licensure exam, a huge smile plastered on her face, her dream realized.

All these thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant, the second it took him to press the viewfinder against his cheek, locate his smiling daughter just as she was reaching for the diploma, and squeeze the shutter release. The camera focused, charged and fired just as she gave the presenter a quick hug. He got off another quick shot as she crossed the stage and flashed him a brilliant smile.

She did it! Tiffany said enthusiastically at his side. He turned to her, noticed the tears in her eyes, and reached out and squeezed her hand.

She did at that! he sniffed, feeling a peculiar sensation along the bridge of his nose as a tear trickled slowly down his cheek. He couldn’t believe that she was through, that she was a licensed counselor, that she would soon be setting up her own private practice. Tiffany threw an arm around him and gave him a hug and as quickly stood and waved grandly at Tyra. That’s my big sister! she shouted loudly.

Tyra laughed as she was exiting the stage, but the woman next to Tyler gave Tiffany a dirty look and huffed angrily. Tyler shrugged to the woman, but she had already pivoted her head toward the stage and refused to look at him. He suddenly understood why he did not like this woman next to him. It was not her judgment or condemnation of them. It was that she was in that seat at all. It was that the seat next to him should have been filled by his wife. She should be witnessing her daughter’s graduation. She should be looking at Tiffany, smiling broadly and clapping at her shouted proclamation to her sister. She should be there to hold his hand and hug him. She should be leaning into him and whispering proudly into his ear, Look what we did! Instead, this stranger, this holier than thou woman, sat next to him and judged him. It was almost more than he could bear. Why had she been taken from him in the prime of her life, the prime of their love? Why had it robbed his two beautiful daughters of the mother who would have nurtured them so much better than he was able?

His thoughts turned to their last kiss. She was feverish and didn’t really know him at the time, but that was their lot. He still could not believe that evil could be waiting for him, ready to pounce upon his world and rob him of his love, his life, out of nowhere. His wife, Shelly, had wanted to visit her best friend from high school, who now lived in Alabama. They had originally planned on going as a family to stay for a week, but the day before the trip, both Tyra and Tiffany had come down with a stomach virus. Shelly had wanted to cancel the trip, but he had known how much it meant to her and had insisted that she go while he stay home with the kids. How was he to know that while playing with her friend’s children, she would hop into their pool, a pool that had not been chlorinated? The day before she was to return, she got sick. At first it was a phone call saying that she would be delayed, that she had a fever, a bad headache, and that her neck was stiff. He had told her he loved her and to get well soon. The next day, he had received a worried call from her friend. Shelly was hallucinating and had been admitted to the hospital. They were running tests now, but he should not worry. He did worry, of course, and after dropping the kids off at his parents, he had caught the first flight to Alabama. By the time he had arrived at the hospital and burst into her room, he couldn’t believe the change in her. She was pale and gaunt. She was covered in sweat. She didn’t know who he was, and she was rapidly declining. A few moments later, the doctor had come in, a young man of Indian descent, who sat him down, and compassionately told him that they believed that his wife had contracted parasitic meningitis. It had been traced to the pool in which she had been playing. As the doctor explained it, a parasite in the warm water from the pool had swum up her nostrils. At first, he didn’t understand. He assumed that now that her illness had been identified, it could be treated. It was only after the doctor’s carefully guarded explanation that it began to sink in. There wasn’t anything they could do. Parasitic meningitis was fatal. Shelly would die. By the time the doctor had finished giving him the news, it was over. He had looked over at her in despair, and she had lifted her right pinky, maybe more a quiver than anything else, and then she was still. He was left alone in despair to raise their two daughters.

A loud roar and a sharp elbow in his side brought him back to the auditorium.

Dad? Where are you? Tiffany laughed pointing to the graduates. He smiled sheepishly at her and shrugged contritely. Here he was at his daughter’s graduation. He should be ecstatic, not wallowing in self-pity!

While you were off in lala land, this thing ended! she laughed.

He looked toward the stage in time to see hundreds of mortarboards launched toward the ceiling, and as the music began to play, the graduates, smiling and waving, filed out of the auditorium.

Come on, Dad. Let’s go get Tyra and get out of here! Tiffany laughed, grabbing his hand and standing.

Sure, honey! he smiled, squeezing her hand warmly. I think a little celebration is in order. Standing, Tyler followed his daughter through the crowd. He couldn’t wait to see his oldest daughter and give her the biggest hug he could.

***

Tyler had found it difficult to find his daughter among the sea of black and white graduation gowns spilling into the auditorium lobby. The air was filled with excited chatter as parents and graduates tried desperately to find each other in the crowd. Tyler was just about ready to give up and go wait outside when he saw a flash of red hair in the crowd that instantly drew his attention. He couldn’t see a face, but he had definitely seen the hair. I think she’s over there! he shouted excitedly to Tiffany, pointing in that direction. Tyra! he called.

Tiffany who was standing on her tiptoes about twenty feet from his spot called back excitedly. Yes! It’s her! Tyra! Here! She called. Turning back to her father, she waved. I’ll go get her and be right back. Stay put!

Ok! he laughed as he craned his neck, anxious to see his oldest daughter.

Smiling and waving Tiffany disappeared into the black and white mob, re-emerging minutes later with Tyra in tow.

Dad! Tyra called, breaking into a run when she saw him. In seconds she had wrapped her thin arms around him and was hugging him tightly. She kissed his cheek, and he could tell from the moistness of her own cheeks that she had been crying.

You’d think I hadn’t seen you in months, he laughed, as he blinked away his own tears. You know, I saw you in the car on the way over here!

Aw, Dad, you know why! Tyra sniffed.

Yea, Tyler chuckled.

Because you, through the grace of God, have miraculously earned your degree! Tiffany added nudging her from behind.

Wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands, Tyra turned toward her sister. Very funny, she smiled. Come here, you! With a brilliant smile she engulfed her younger sister in an equally tight hug.

Well, while there MIGHT be a question about the degree of this miracle, I will tell you one thing for sure, Tyler laughed wrapping his arms around both of his daughters, We will be celebrating at Zeppy’s tonight for some fine Italian cuisine!

Yes! Tyra cried, My favorite!

Your night, you get to pick! Tiffany laughed.

Well, let’s get going, I have something I want to talk to you about, oldest daughter, Tyler smiled warmly at Tyra. Offering an elbow to each of his daughters, he turned toward the exit door. In seconds the three of them were heading through the parking lot toward Tyler’s car, laughing as they walked…

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Two

Joshua Denser stared at his shoes. They were dirty. They probably smelled. His one saving grace was that his canvas high-tops were black, leaving only the white rubber toes to show dirt. He sighed. It was probably time to invest in a new pair, but these were comfortable, both in the way they felt, and the way they looked. Shrugging his shoulders, he looked in toward the restaurant. He had been sitting on this wooden bench for ten minutes now, and he could see empty tables. The hostess had told him eight minutes ago that it would only be a minute. He could see her chatting with a group of girls seated at a table near the back of the front room. Probably her friends, he reasoned. He should just get up and walk out, but it wasn’t like he had anything better to do anyway. Besides, he might make her mad if he did that. Leaning back against the uncomfortable wrought-iron back of the bench, feeling its bite across his shoulder blades, he closed his eyes, leaned his head back until it hit the wall behind him, and let his long, brown hair fall back away from his face. The sounds of gentle laughter, the clinking of silverware, a crash from the kitchen, filled his mind. Time moved on, inexorable, unrelenting, weighing him down. Time was all he had. His life had been stripped of all else. He had his mind, his job, his meager possessions, his mother’s house, and time. His next sigh was filled with the weight of despair, a despair he had worn well over the past few years.

A sudden laughter caught his attention, and he leaned forward and looked to his right. A man and woman at the nearest table were obviously enjoying each other’s company. A couple. That’s what they were. The man leaned forward, self-assured and toyed with a pair of golden cufflinks. The woman, whose back was to Joshua, was waving her hands and chattering excitedly, the picture of animation. Joshua envied them. More precisely, he envied the man. He was able to sit in front of a woman and enjoy her company without worrying about where it would eventually lead. He was able to strike up and maintain a relationship with a woman, and ultimately enjoy it. He did not have to go to restaurants by himself, eat by himself, go home by himself, go to bed by himself.

Joshua squeezed his eyes shut tight and wallowed in his despair once more, wanting to fall into it, to let it overwhelm him, to overtake him and become him. A moment later, he opened his eyes sheepishly, unable to maintain the air of utter despair that he craved. With another sigh, he looked again to the hostess near the back of the front room of the restaurant. She was still talking to the group of girls. She looked back at him