LAST TIME: The life of Riley that Brewster pined for would wait. Come Helen Highwater he'd find the missing kid. Then, he would ride off into the golden sunset and get out of this racket for good. He'd gladly pass the baton to the next grinder in line who wanted to be a hero. David Brewster had had enough of this relentlessly proceeding train. Those shoes did not fit him anymore.

Word Count: 1,272

Member Cents: 1.07


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The fluted Jim Beam shot glass sat on top of the congested airport lounge bar. Inside was the courage he needed. Around the stranger he heard various fragments of conversations as fatigued excursionists dashed to their destinations. For the last thirteen excruciatingly long years he'd withered away inside a penitentiary cell at the Union Correctional Institution, Florida's most notorious confinement for incarcerated criminals.

The accoster's atrocity? A penchant for little boys. Now, he was on the prowl again. The crushing obsession raged out of control. Ignited deep within him, the fire penetrated the swain to the core. That was the reason OIA appealed to him so much. Too many accessible targets called his name. The best part was, here at the airport, he fused into the environment. Nobody knew he existed. Soon they would.

He ordered another shot of bourbon and recalled a discussion he had previously had with the prison psychologist, Doctor Julia Stein, while he was locked away like a caged animal.

She'd clinically confided, "There are no known cures for your mental disorder. and the exact causes have not been exclusively established."

At first he faked interest in what she said. All he really cared about was meeting the stipulations of his pending parole.

"However, there are therapies you have undergone to reduce the possibilities of replicating your actions," she continued.

As Dr. Stein spoke, his mind drifted out to sea, far away from where she was. Perhaps it landed in French Polynesia and its famous black sand beaches.

"Pedophilia is not a chosen lifestyle," she stated, saying, "in your case, your displayed anxiety and depression, coupled with your psychopathological disorder, and anti-social characteristics, tend to engorge your aspirations."

'Will this woman ever shut her flipping flea trap?' he secretly wondered to himself, 'This is one b-o-r-I-n-g prattle session.'

All he knew was being highly introverted, he gravitated towards young boys who posed less of a threat to him than adults did.

Dr. Stein rambled on, "You also use cognitive distortions to meet personal needs. Whereupon, you then make a myriad of excuses for your wanton actions and exhibit your power over the children you groom. Now, let's discuss your collection of certain magazines."

The prisoner knew they were illegal to possess, and definitely not allowed in the prison. but, his child pornography publications were easily smuggled inside the four walls that contained him and fed his addiction.

"Your collection has been discovered to be organized, labeled, and categorized by age, act, and fantasy. This articulated fueling, defining, and validating your aspirations," Dr. Stein expressed.

Rickie Wolford believed he was incorrigible beyond the hope of ever overcoming his disillusionment.

"In order to be considered for release from incarceration, you have undergone cognitive behavior therapy, to reduce comportment toward your likelihood of repeating your crimes and re-entering prison again," Dr. Stein complimentarily elaborated, "you have also received relapse prevention therapy, to learn how to identify and better respond to risky situations, that may cause you to re-offend. Based on these significant findings, I am recommending you for parole." That was the news Wolford awaited.

Now, in the airport lounge he was a free man. A fresh haircut, and a three-piece business suit obtained upon his release from custody, provided the appearance of him fitting into mainstream society unnoticed. The sore thumb no longer stood out from the crowd. The trust factor they projected was an important aspect of his conspiracy.

All he needed to do was nurse the drink in his glass until it was gone and bide his time. Opportunity would soon present itself to him. He would be ready to pounce when the time arrived.

The afternoon crowd of nomads hustled past him in search of their flights. He, and his short, salt-and-pepper-colored hair were ignored by the travelers who rapidly raced for their flights, or to grab a bite to eat in the adjacent cafeteria, or to meet their parties at the gates.

'Life is all good,' Wolford theorized to himself as he watched the hubbub occur around him.

He witnessed a family of four drag their luggage behind them on little rolling wheels as they sped off past the newsstand and the Starbucks concession.

'No good,' he determined.

In all directions he looked, he saw the mass of mortals. He needed a target that was alone to make his move. They'd appear. Of that he possessed no doubt. Unsuspectingly, they always did. In the meantime, he ordered a third round of Jim Beam and sat back on his stool. If need be, he had all night.

Aimlessly, a boy walked past three silver elevators, and rounded the corner of a wood-paneled wall. The youngster seemingly did not have a care in the world. Perhaps it was his whistling softly to himself that first attracted Wolford's unwanted attention. Maybe it was simply the lad's adorableness? The attacker always did prefer blonds.

Observing the youngster, Wolford swallowed the last drop of bourbon in his glass and stood up. The time was at hand. The boy nonchalantly strolled halfway down the corridor. He slowed down to glance at the murals of airplanes that adorned the wall. Wolford fell in stride.

As he approached a wooden door with the word "MEN," and a picture of a male silhouette engraved in gold lettering on it, the boy pushed the door ajar. He located an empty stall and entered it. He forget to lock the door behind him. He'd performed this act daily and knew it wouldn't take long to complete. He seated himself.

Suddenly, the door to the stall burst wide open! Rickie Wolford stood there with a sparkle in his eyes and evil on his mind. The boy screamed at the top of his lungs. To no avail. Nobody heard his wretched cries.

"Hello, handsome. You're so-o-o-o-o cute! Wanna play?" Wolford haughtily asked the boy. He turned and locked the stall door behind him.

The bane for the preadolescent began. The knife in Wolford's hand eviscerated the sprout. He knew dessert was about to be served.

Cast of Characters:

David Brewster - Special Investigator with the Orange County Sheriff's Office Missing Persons Task Force. Known as The Bloodhound.

Rickie Wolford - Convicted pedophile. Attacked a boy at the Orlando International Airport.

Doctor Julia Stein - Prison psychologist. Recommended pedophile Rickie Wolford for parole.

Unidentified Preadolescent - Victim of pedophile Rickie Wolford.