The Burner Phones

A heartfelt, "Fuck," screamed into the woods as Lucy realised her predicament. The keys to the handcuffs were in her purse, on the front passenger seat of the car. She foolishly hadn't put them in the drawstring pouch along with the other necessities for the night. She was tethered to the grill. She grabbed the only straw she had; the phone. Who to ring? Her sister? Best friend? Father? Mother? The police? For more inspiration, she opened the contact list. Fuck! She'd forgotten; it was that phone. There was only one number listed. Dirk's. Like most people these days, she relied on her phone to remember numbers she was too lazy to lodge in her mind.

The idea of being found in broad daylight the next morning, created terror in Lucy. She'd been a good gymnast in primary school and done yoga most of her adult life. If she stretched out full length on the hood of the car, she would easily reach the door handle with her toes. Opening the door that way, she could then use her foot to try and snag her handbag and hopefully get it within close enough reach to extract the handcuff key. It was a long shot, but it was all she had.

Looking uncharacteristically inelegant, she extended her big toe as a hook. What happened next caused her to double-take. The indicator lights flashed twice, there was a tweeting sound, simultaneous with the sound of the car doors locking. Lucy thought she must have the car keys in the pocket of her dress and rolling around on the hood had caused the locking button to be pressed. Cursing her luck, she rolled onto her back and felt one side after the other. Realisation hit. She banged her head on the bonnet. What had she been thinking? There was hardly any dress to speak of, let alone room for pockets. And there were definitely no keys. That left her with no idea of why the car had locked itself.

What there was, though, revealed in the beam of the headlights that came on and stayed on for half a minute after the car was locked, filled Lucy with dread. At least six men were approaching her. Their steady approach was arrested by the sudden glare. She knew she had to ring someone and do it quick. She had exactly two numbers. Two choices. One number programmed into the phone, that she was absolutely forbidden to ring, the other memorised since childhood—000; the police.

Unhesitatingly, she rang the former. Fuck the rules. Once he knew her dilemma, Dirk would come back and save her. It answered on the third ring and the voice, not the words, used in greeting hit her like a banshee's screech. She shook her head, baffled, and pulled the phone away from her ear to confirm it was, indeed, the burner phone and the saved contact said, Dirk.

Lucy's mind was in a flat spin. What was Dave, her husband, doing answering her lover's phone?

******

WITH POETIC SYNCHRONICITY, AT the same time Lucy asked herself this question, her lover, Dirk Prentice, was busy dying, about fifteen kilometres away from the isolated but crowded piece of bush where Lucy was imprisoned.

Five seconds before that, with a final adjustment of his uniform, and one last glance at his partner-in-crime, Dirk twisted the doorknob and pushed the door inwards, while raising his gun.

"Police, freeze... oh fuck!"

Dirk gaze registered in an instant the three rough looking men turn from the table where they were busy carefully measuring white powder into little plastic bags. What he didn't see was the fourth man, standing in the darkness of the lounge room, who promptly shot him in the chest.

As he lay on the ground, drowning in his own blood, he heard, rather than saw, his companion running for his life, his gait made uneven by the need to clutch the bullet wound in his side.

******

DAVE LEANED BACK IN his chair, taking a leisurely sip of his coffee. It tasted good. Very good. Even better when accompanied by that morning's news headlines.

'DOG-GONE IT, LOCAL CITIZEN OF THE YEAR CAUGHT IN COMPROMISING ACT'

Equally satisfying; 'LOCAL BUSINESSMAN SHOT DEAD IN DRUG DEN'

One article he was all too familiar with, the other, a satisfying read.

Dave took another sip of his coffee, contemplating the long, emotional journey he'd undergone from his moment of discovery of Lucy's affair to the gloating satisfaction he now felt at her suffering the consequences of her actions.

Dave thought back to when he initially found the phone. The shock, the confusion, the sudden weight in his belly, and the overwhelming feeling of disappointment at having been proven right in his suspicions.

And then when he'd read the texts...

At first he hadn't recognised the emotions swirling in his gut. He only knew he didn't like them.

He didn't like the vile, bitter taste in his mouth.

He liked the heat pulsing through his body with every thud of his heart even less.

It wasn't the pleasurable heat of passion. It wasn't even the uncomfortable heat of humiliation. This heat didn't warm him. It didn't awaken him. No, this heat burned and scorched, leaving destruction in its wake. It was like a forest fire erasing everything in its path.

He remembered his shock at realising the swirling inferno scorching his insides was a mix of jealousy and rage, and the pain of betrayal.

Of course, he knew of such emotions, but never before had he experienced them, and certainly not all at once. The reality was devastating. Its fiery power had hijacked his mind, demanding the perpetrators be punished for the abuse of love and trust. The ruination of two families.

That was when his planning had begun. The headlines were mere confirmation his plans had borne fruit.

He closed his eyes and replayed his last conversation with his wife.

"Yes, my dear, how do you think I can help you on this fine night?"

"D-D-Dave?"

"Yes. This is Dave, your husband. I thought we'd established that."

"But, why aren't you Dirk?"

Dave relived his satisfaction at hearing Lucy's disorientation. She was clearly very confused. He knew what she was like when you threw her off her game. She wouldn't be able to think. Wouldn't be able to organise her thoughts. Only fair, he decided, after the month of confusion and pain, not to mention, humiliation, she'd caused him.

"Unfortunately for you, my dear, I found your burner phone about a month ago. Remember that night? You were dyeing your hair and I needed your odometer reading for our car insurance renewal. You got quite agitated when I wouldn't wait for you to be finished but went right out to your car to get the reading myself. That, and your recent moodiness, aroused my suspicions so I had a look around to see what I wasn't supposed to. I would never have found it though, it was very well hidden. If it hadn't chimed with an incoming text right then, I would have given up and berated myself for doubting you. Reading all those texts from my supposed friend to my supposedly faithful wife later that night just killed all the love I ever felt for you."

Telling her he felt no love for her was a lie, but Dave wanted to hurt her the way he'd been hurt; take something from her that she'd taken from him. Make her feel abandoned, alone and unloved; a taste of her own medicine.

"Remember the party at Dirk and Claudia's house a few days later? That allowed me to check his car. How cute to have matching sewn pouches for your phones, and how clever to use Velcro to hide them under the seats. Did you sew those? Well, after that it was easy. After having another little read of your exchanges, I bought a burner phone of my own, so I didn't feel left out. Just for a bit of fun, I reprogrammed my number under Dirk's name on your phone and under your name on his burner phone. Every time you've sent each other a text this last month, you've actually been corresponding with me. You can just imagine what a hoot it's been, I do so hope you appreciate the irony, Lucy. I certainly do. You've just been burnt by a burner phone. I always wondered why they were called that."

Dave recalled hearing the soft series of thuds when Lucy repeatedly banged her head against the bonnet. It had been such a satisfying sound. A salve to his heart that had been battered so much by her betrayal, it had broken.

"Are you remembering all those texts, my dear? What a dirty girl you ended up being. And who'd have thought you'd enjoy grungy, sordid motels so much? I bet that would surprise all your high society friends, not to mention, Mummy and Daddy. You and Dirk really went on a wild ride, didn't you? Such a kinky minx. Did all the planning for tonight get you wet? I hope so. I did my best to be as Dirk-like as possible."

Dave smiled at the movie playing in his mind. He saw again, Lucy lifting her head and scanning the bushes. Heard again her gasp as she took in the slowly approaching men.

"Are you here, Dave? Can you see me?"

"Yes, I can see you. And what a sight you are. Definitely one to hang above the mantel piece—not."

"Thank god. Help me. You have to help me."

"But isn't this what you wanted? Didn't you want to be treated like a bad girl? Didn't you want a nice, sordid, public fucking by strangers? Didn't you want to feel helpless and used? I'm sure you said that in one of your texts."

"Please don't do this. Please help me. Unhandcuff me or call Dirk or call the police. Do something!"

"I'm afraid Dirk has no idea where you are. Oh, and there's the little fact that while you were indulging in your little fantasy, I set Dirk up with his very own. It's not dissimilar to yours, but I think you'll appreciate the subtle differences. I, er, arranged for him to surprise some people who really don't like surprises. Like, violently don't like surprises. You bought a burner phone, my former friend, bought an inferno phone."

Dave cringed a little at the memory of the satisfaction he'd felt at his poor-tasted joke at the time.

He remembered Lucy's silence. Maybe she was seeing a change in him. A change she'd created. He was now capable of hurting people, not just saving them. He hoped she was as shocked at the change as he was.

"Bu... but how could you? He has a wife, Claudia. Our friend. H-h-his kids grew up playing with our kids."

"Our friend? That didn't stop you from fucking her husband did it? Or him from fucking you. It didn't stop either of you from breaking hearts and destroying families. Anyway, to answer your question, it's quite simple, wife dear. When I told Claudia last week what the two of you were up to, her exact words were. "The arsehole...he's at it again. I can't take it anymore. I can't live with the never knowing. I hope the randy cunt dies, at least that way he can be useful for his life insurance payout." I predict some good news shortly for our good friend Claudia."

All conversation had ended at that point for a reason totally out of Lucy's control, but not out of her husband's.

*****

LUCY WAS IN SHOCK, stunned by the conversation with Dave. Her mind flipped back and forth from the danger Dirk was in to Dave knowing everything.

She was so caught up in her own head, she'd totally forgotten the physical danger she was in. A pair of groping hands grabbing her ass as the first and boldest of the second rank of perverts reached her, reminded her.

Lucy wasn't to know it, but this particular guy was usually satisfied with just masturbating while watching the dogging action, but tonight his juices had been stirred by the semi-violent DP he'd witnessed her participating in a mere five minutes before. He'd decided she was a slut who obviously got off on being forced.

Lucy shrieked at the touch and dropped the phone.

*****

LUCY'S SHRIEK WAS MUSIC to Dave's ears. However, as much as he hated Lucy for her destruction of every happy family memory he had, and the perceived eradication of the possibility he would ever trust a woman ever again, Dave wasn't about to commit her to being raped. Yes, technically, she'd been raped by the two guys the first time, but it had started consensually. For that reason, he'd called the police on his second burner phone prior to his conversation with Lucy.

After Lucy dropped the phone, Dave was busy for a few minutes but kept a close enough eye on his wife to know she was holding the perverts off. If they'd been smart, they would have teamed up on her. He could only assume dogging voyeurs were naturally solitary animals. His reading on the subject suggested that common to all men who preferred watching a woman get fucked to actually fucking them themselves, such as voyeurs and willing cuckolds, they were unsure of what to do with a woman when the opportunity arose. Most, to Dave's eyes, looked like they just wanted to touch Lucy's nakedness. A novelty for them, perhaps.

Even with her arms anchored, Lucy gave a good account of herself, kicking and using her legs to push. Dave could tell it was physically draining. He saw she was pretty much exhausted eight minutes after the assaults began.

Luckily for her, when the wail of the police siren pierced the air, and flashing lights lit the glade in alternating shades of red and blue like a rave party, her assailants scattered into the bush like rats from a naked flame.

Observing from a tree line eighty metres away, Dave watched Lucy's face morph from momentary relief to one of dread as the realisation of her predicament hit her. He could only guess at her horror.

Dave was panting as he'd only just made it back from his mission to the company car Lucy was tethered to. He'd had to sprint the last distance to safety and anonymity when he heard the approaching police cars.

Knowing Lucy was now rescued, Dave walked the half kilometre to where he'd stashed the trail bike he'd arrived on. He rode into town, throwing Lucy's burner the phone in a river, and went back to the all-night poker game attended by his three closest friends.

*****

THE POLICE TOOK ONE look at Lucy; cum drying on her legs, wrists chafed from the handcuffs and came to entirely the wrong conclusion. She explained that the keys to the handcuffs were in the car, and that the car had somehow locked itself. She was bemused when it opened to the first officer's touch. She burst into tears at the released fear and relief.

The police freed her, then gently bundled her into the back seat of the patrol car. One officer drove her to the hospital, the other stayed to guard the crime scene, handing the phone he'd picked up to his partner, before he drove away.

*****

ON THE DRIVE TO the hospital, Lucy feigned a swoon in the back seat. On the twenty-minute drive, she concocted, then flaw-probed a story. Two men had kidnapped her and taken her into the bush. There, she'd been restrained, before they'd sexually assaulted her. Once they'd had their fill, they'd run off, leaving her to the predations of the local perverts. Only in the last three minutes before arriving at the hospital did Lucy spare any thought for Dirk, and then only in the context of him possibly saying something that might contradict her story.

In casualty, Lucy's wrists were dressed, a rape protocol was run, and the duty counsellor called. She gave them her parent's number, rather than Dave's, explaining he was travelling and uncontactable. They arrived shortly after and Lucy practiced her story on them. Her mother cried at her daughter's suffering. It was after midnight when the same officer who'd saved her, took her statement, accompanied by a detective, and after 2:00 a.m. when she was released from the hospital to be taken back to her parent's house.

*****

MEANWHILE, THE CRIME SCENE investigator examined the body of Dirk Prentice in the trunk of the old beater car.

He knew from what the discovering officer had told him that it appeared the drug dealers wrapped the victim in a blanket and then stuffed him in the trunk of their car. It looked like they'd packed up their cocaine, cash, and meagre belongings, before torching the house. The general consensus was they'd been on their way to dispose of the body. It was just their rotten luck they'd run a red light in front of a police car and been pulled over just as the alert had come over the radio. A travelling salesman had reported being shot two blocks away.

The investigator, following protocol, looked for any identifying information. Finding a mobile phone in the victim's pocket, he removed it and placed it in an evidence bag.

An hour later, Detective Inspector Swanson, having been assured all forensic physical information had been retrieved from the phone, looked at the one and only entry on its contact list, simply listed as, 'L'.

He dialled the number while composing a question in his head. That thought process was interrupted when he heard a curse and clatter behind him. His colleague, Detective Sergeant Dickins, had been about to start pushing buttons on the phone retrieved from the scene of the evening's rape—it could have belonged to one of the rapists—when it rang in his hands, startling him.

Recovering from the shock, he accepted the call and said hello to the stunned colleague standing no more than two metres in front of him.

The two detectives read the message exchanges on the phones with mounting horror. When they read the local papers, delivered to the station at six in the morning, they were sickened. Their shift was supposed to end at seven, but after talking to their boss, DCI Stephens, they kept on.

Hitting Lucy's parent's house just after nine, they knocked and asked to talk to the alleged victim. They were invited in by parents who were glad their daughter's rape was being taken so seriously. No doubt because of her fame and her father's standing as a prominent businessman in the town. They were a little bemused when the senior detective showed a cheap cell phone to Lucy and asked if it was hers. Exhausted after a sleepless night, Lucy said yes. Bemusement turned to shock at their next words.

"Lucy Berwick, I am arresting you for making a false statement to police and conspiracy to murder Dirk Reginald Prentice."

Lucy and her parents were too shocked to notice the vehemence in the officer's tone and demeanour. The frenetic activity from the police stemmed from the initial report that the body in the trunk was that of a fellow policeman. Even after the error was corrected, that rush continued. The combination of what they'd read on Dirk's phone, seemingly from Lucy, and what they'd read on Lucy's phone and read in the papers, painted a sickening picture. Lucy indulging in a sick sexual fantasy while the killing she'd seemingly organised was carried out. No, there would be no sympathy from the authorities this day.

When Lucy's parents reflexively came to their daughter's defence, the detective threw a morning paper in front of them. They recoiled in horror at the heavily censored photographs of their daughter's activities of the night before. The exact nature of the acts weren't absolutely clear; the look of rapture on her face, however, was.

EPILOGUE

THE TWENTY-EIGHT HOURS THAT Lucy was remanded were humiliating and busy. With the aid of the lawyer provided by her father, she explained her version of the story and her husband's alleged part in it. She could never explain why the burner phone she had showed text conversations she'd never seen before and included none of the ones she'd had with Dave, thinking it was Dirk she was corresponding with. She never did guess that her clever husband was one step in front of her the whole way along. Anticipating that Lucy might drop the phone in the melee, he'd crawled underneath the car after he'd seen it drop, while she was distracted fending off the attack by the perverts. Once there, he'd switched his phone for hers. His phone that he'd previously wiped half the sent and received texts from.