Stake Out

It was that time of day, just around sunset, when everything wild is very still. The sun was just touching the horizon, its reflected rays gradually flowing around the edges of golden clouds as the heat from their source lost its strength. The full moon would rise above the opposite horizon in minutes. Creatures of the day had ceased activity while those of the night still dozed.

Well back from the beach, on a steep but not very high slope overlooking both the beach and the intervening marsh, Officer Debbie Jones took up her position in a well concealed blind. Tonight would be the third, and final night of this month’s stake out. Similar blinds were being manned at half mile intervals along a ten mile stretch of beach.

For nearly two years, the resort towns along the coast for a hundred miles in either direction had been plagued by what appeared to be a serial rapist. Attacks were irregular but always occurred on the night of the full moon or within two days before. Tonight the moon would be full and the police were determined to put a stop to the terror, and all signs pointed to this particular stretch of beach as the most likely location for the next attack.

The radio earphone in Debbie’s ear crackled. "Are you in place?" It was Captain Thomas.

"Yes, Captain," she whispered into the microphone on her lapel. "Everything is quiet though."

"Okay," answered Captain Thomas. "Stay alert and keep your head down. You have a gun, but this guy is dangerous."

"Ten four," Debbie replied. "I’ll be careful."

"Just remember, stay hidden, report anything you see, and keep in touch," he said, signing off.

Darkness gradually spread over the beach and marsh. Frogs, crickets, and a myriad other night creatures began their nightly songfest. The moon rose, full and bright orange, and began to climb into the night sky, gradually shrinking as it separated from the horizon.

The deepening night stayed silent, save for the loud, but neutral, sounds of the native creatures. Except for the moon it was also startlingly dark, the nearest city lights of any consequence being twenty-five miles away.

Debbie sat very still in her blind, slowly scanning the beach area, with a small night vision scope. The beach was some two hundred yards in front of her position and parallel to the slope she occupied, except directly in front of her, where a peninsula extended two hundred yards further seaward. Periodically, she also scanned the marsh, especially its boundary with the beach. That seemed the most likely area for a rapist to lie in wait for a victim. Occasionally, she even swept her view across the slope she occupied herself and the areas behind.

"Debbie? You with us?" a voice whispered through her earphone. It was her partner, Joe, calling from the next stake out station half a mile to her left.

"Right here. Anything going on?" she asked in a whisper.

"Nothing," he answered. "Nothing at any other station either."

"Damn!" Debbie swore. "We’ve got to get this bastard."

"I know, Debbie, I know. We’ll get him."

Joe didn’t know, of course; not everything anyway. He knew Debbie had a passionate interest in this case. He knew Debbie had pressed hard to be assigned to the stake out as well as to the case itself. He did not know, however, that Debbie’s drive to solve the case stemmed from have been raped herself some ten years before.

Suddenly the air was noticeably chilly and a very slight breeze began. A few seconds later there was a snap of a twig. It was barely audible but definitely real. It seemed to come from somewhere to the left below her position, and on the near side of the marsh.

Debbie started to reach for the transmit button on her radio, then hesitated.

"If I call in for every twig that snaps, they’ll think I’m a nervous Nellie," she thought to herself.

Debbie leaned forward to the very edge of the opening in the blind and listened intently.

There was another barely perceptible snap, this time directly below her position.

Debbie tried to zero in with the night scope on the apparent source of the sound, but could not pick anything out.

"There has to be someone or some thing out there!" she thought to herself. "But where is it?"

After several minutes of fruitless searching, Debbie decided that perhaps a slight change of position was required. She rose and very carefully and quietly climbed out of the blind, looking down slope all the time.

Still looking down slope through the night vision scope, Debbie moved very slowly to her right. She knew leaving the blind was technically against her instructions, but she had to get a better angle of view. She moved twenty feet further and a bit down the slope. She moved another thirty feet and further down. Still she could see nothing.

"Snap."

This time the sound was louder and it was behind and above her. It seemed quite close, although still without any apparent source.

Suddenly, all the memories of being raped came pouring back, enveloping her with an overpowering combination of fear, revulsion, and rage. Her heart raced and a shiver surged down her spine.

Debbie moved down slope, almost to the edge of the marsh.

There was another snap, but still she could see nothing.

Debbie drew her gun, though she was now trembling to the point the gun was as likely to go off by accident as by intent. She stepped backward, out into the more open ground of the marsh, looking back up slope and holding the gun in front of her. She could be seen more easily in the open marsh, but she could also see around herself enough to prevent being taken by surprise.

Debbie moved further out into the marsh, more into the open, visually searching the slope above, but still to no avail. She crept around for more than ten minutes, getting her feet soaked and her shoes caked with mud, but still could find no source for the snapping sounds.

Eventually, Debbie concluded the sound must be a natural phenomenon. Cautiously and slowly, and still somewhat nervously, she returned to the blind.

"Debbie?" Joe was on the radio as she returned to the blind.

"Go ahead," she answered in a hushed voice.

"See anything?" he asked.

"No, I though I heard something moving a while back, but it must have been a rabbit – just a couple of twigs snapping," she replied.

"Okay, stay alert," he reminded her.

"Believe me, I’m wide awake," she continued, in what she knew was a gross understatement. "Wide awake!"

Just then the Captain came on the radio.

"Debbie, I’m one station to your right. You’re not going to believe this but there’s a young woman walking down the beach toward you’re position," he said.

"What?"

"There’s a young…"

"I heard what you said, I just don’t believe it!" she whispered incredulously. "What the hell is she doing out here in the middle of the night?"

"I don’t know but she’s out here. She’s about a third of the way from my position to yours," answered the Captain.

Debbie braced her arms on the blind and scanned the beach with the night scope.

"Damn, there she is. After all the trouble we’ve had, she’s either totally out of touch or incredibly stupid, maybe both," she said. "Damn!"

"Watch her closely," the Captain instructed. "If this guy is out here and goes after her it could take a while to get people out there."

"Do you want me to move closer to the beach?" Debbie asked.

"No, " the Captain stated emphatically. "Stay put for now. If this guy is out here and you move too soon, he’ll spook and we’ll have to start all over again. If you see anything, anything at all, just report in. We’ll send people down the beach."

For the next fifteen minutes Debbie scanned back and forth across the beach – marsh boundary for a distance of two hundred yards or so in front of the woman. She kept thinking how foolish she was to be out by herself at night on a deserted beach. At the same time, however, it angered her that she had to think of her as foolish.

"She has a perfect right to use the beach any time she wants," Debbie thought. "One predatory animal among a million or more perfectly normal, more or less harmless, people takes away everyone’s rights. "It’s like he raping us all!"

Suddenly, Debbie detected caught a slight movement, about 30 yards into the marsh and almost exactly parallel, along the line of the beach, with the woman’s position. She shifted her gaze center on that spot.

There he was! There was the figure of a man, slightly built, moving – almost creeping – parallel to the beach. It was obvious to Debbie he was stalking the woman.

Debbie reached for the transmit button on her lapel, but then held back from pressing it.

"I’ve got to wait," she told herself. "That’s got to be him, but so far all I can really prove is he was out in the marsh at night. That’s not illegal for him any more than for her. If we move in now we can’t make it stick. I’ve got to wait until he at least follows the woman for a while."

As Debbie watched through the night vision scope, the woman continued along the beach. The figure in the marsh followed, about 50 yards behind and 30 yards into the marsh.

Almost directly in line with Debbie, the line of the beach turned outward, around the perimeter of a peninsula that extended seaward for about two hundred yards. It had a width of perhaps eighty yards. As the woman turned to follow the line of the beach, Debbie realized her path would take her twice as far away.

Debbie rose, left the blind, and began to descend the slope so as to reduce the time it would take to respond if and when the rapist made his move.

Halfway down the slope, however, she stopped. The male figure was no longer following the girl. Instead, he was moving across the peninsula.

"Setting up a little ambush, are you," Debbie said out loud. "Well, let’s see if we can’t give you a little surprise instead."

Still watching through the scope, Debbie started to report in and call in the back up that would affect an arrest, but then she stopped. Something wasn't quite right. The guy was no longer moving across the peninsula. He seemed to be just standing in one place.

"So that’s how you hide," Debbie said to herself. "If you don’t move you could be right out in plain sight and you’re practically invisible."

Debbie moved to the base of the slope and then very carefully out into the marsh toward her quarry. Inexplicably, she did not report what she was doing.

Very gradually, so as to avoid making any noise that might give her presence away, Debbie moved closer. Every ten feet or so she used the night scope to re-orient on her target. She did not want to lose sight of him as that would risk letting him get behind her. He did not move however.

In twenty minutes Debbie closed the distance to fifty yards. Finally, she came to an open spot that gave her an unobstructed view at a range at which there was no further need for the night scope.

Debbie’s eyes went wide. The rapist who had terrorized the entire community for two years was right in front of her, struggling thigh deep in a pool of mud. He looked frightened but even more enraged by the much that now entrapped him. He was literally growling at the mire surrounding his legs, and he was picking up gobs of mud and flinging it down in his rage.

Debbie punched the button on her radio. "Joe, you there?" she whispered.

"Go ahead," answered Joe in a similarly hushed voice.

"Go through the description of our perp," she requested.

"We went through it at the briefing this afternoon," Joe objected.

"I know, just go over it again for me," she demanded.

"Okay, just second while I get the info sheet," said Joe compliantly.

Joe came back on in a minute, "Okay, here it is… white male, about five feet eight inches tall, very slightly built, short, black hair, angry all the time, and a round or oval tattoo on the left forearm. That’s all we have confirmed from two or more victims."

"Thanks," Debbie said, somewhat shortly.

Every detail matched the man in front of her, although she could not adequately see his forearm.

"Do you see anything, Debbie," Joe asked, somewhat expectantly.

Debbie didn’t answer.

"Debbie, what do you have?" he asked again.

"Uh…," she hesitated. "Nothing, nothing….The woman got here a few minutes ago. She’s out on the peninsula now."

"Okay, keep us posted," he signed off.

Debbie’s mind was clouded by a flood of memories. First, there were memories of her own rape and its aftermath. Then there were more recent memories related to this and similar cases; the victim’s tearful, trembling stories, the terrible bruises, and the bodies of victims who had not survived.

"You sniveling bastard," she thought, looking at the monster in front of her, now struggling up to his waist in mud, alternately raging against the world and whimpering for his mother. "You can damn well sit there for a while. Ill be in no hurry to help you!"

Ten minutes past. Debbie called Joe again on the radio.

"The woman is back off the peninsula now," she lied. Actually Debbie could not see the woman at all. "Can you see her yet?"

"Yes, I have her in sight. How dumb can you get?"

"Dumb and happy, I suppose," answered Debbie. "Sometimes the stupid just have luck on their side," she continued, knowing that she knew much more than Joe how true that was in this case.

In an hour the man in front of her had sunk to his chest in the mud. For brief periods his rages seemed spent, replaced with fear, but the anger kept coming back. He even made a couple of semi-coherent remarks about how it was the woman’s fault and what he would do to her when he got out and tracked her down.

"It’s a good thing for you this marsh isn’t tidal," Debbie muttered. You would be dead in less than an hour."

With that, Debbie began to consider what would happen to him. With a perfect, point by point match-up by two victims, a conviction was highly likely. Most likely he would get life in prison, probably without possibility of parole. He would be trapped in a barred room, just as he was trapped in a pit of mud right now. And he would be surrounded by other creatures of similarly questionable humanity, some of whom would prey on him just as he had preyed on a long series of innocent women. Of course, she reasoned, there was a remote possibility of an acquittal or of some change in the law that might let him go free after a period of incarceration.

All Debbie had to do to bring all of this about was use her radio to announce his discovery and call in a rescue squad.

On the other hand, it occurred to Debbie, she could do nothing. She could return to the blind, where everyone thought she was anyway, and simply fail to notice the events now taking place in front of her. He was stuck, up to his shoulders in thick, black ooze. He was no longer sinking any deeper, but unaided escape was quite clearly impossible. If she did nothing he would remain imprisoned in the mud until he was discovered by someone else or simply died of starvation or hypothermia.

Three hours passed. Nothing changed. The man was still up to his shoulders in inescapable mud and Debbie still watched, debating what to do.

Finally, Debbie pressed the button on her radio.

I leave it to the reader to decide. Did Debbie call for the rescue squad, or did she ask Joe where he wanted to go for breakfast.