Dior Boucher

Dior Boucher

Normal. What a bland word with such an eye-roll worthy definition. That’s the word I have to be every day. I’m different in a way no acceptable member of society would understand or be supportive of. That’s why no one knows me that, or not that well at least. They know the sweet Dior Boucher that shows up to school and pretends he can tolerate everyone and brings in treats for the homeroom every Monday and Friday. I do my best to be as unnoticeable as possible, but not to the point where I’m the creepy quiet kid that everyone whispers about every once in a while. 

My classes for the day were done, so I left the school building early and went to the school gym. There was a PE class happening on the basketball court, so I settled for the weight room. Just to my liking, it was empty and dark. I dropped my backpack outside the room and walked in with music playing in my ears. I started my workout looking at myself in the mirror. Beads of sweat rolled down my face missing the wavy hair that rested over my eyebrow. A roar of children’s footsteps filled the sound of the hallway. I finally had the court to myself, which means I could bring the batting cages and take out the pitching machine. I grabbed my bat, got set, and started swinging. Every ding of the bat rejecting the ball was a stress reliever for me. I could kill for even more of a release. I can’t right now, I have to wait until the sun goes down and monsters come out. I was so deep in my thoughts, for a second, I forgot about the pitches that were coming at me at 85 mph. A high, wild pitch clocked me right in the face. I winced in pain and touched my cheek and my now bleeding lip. 

“Damnit,” I said, out loud to myself.

“Take one to the chops?” a voice said from the entrance of the court.

“Yeah,” I responded, looking up to see Hailey McLachlan.

“Come on, you should put some ice on it so your mouth doesn’t swell any more than it already has.”

I don’t know why, but I went with her. I’ve never been one to accept help from people even, if they were close to me and here I am letting a girl I barely know guide me to get ice. What is happening to me? Am I turning into a softy? Nope, that’s impossible. I am the way I am, I can’t be changed even by the sweetest person.

“Thank you, I said, taking the ice pack from her, “what are you doing here anyway?” I asked.

“Just came to get my workout in.”

“You workout? I’m here 24/7 and I don’t think I've seen you lift a weight or run on the treadmill,” I said, in disbelief.

“I’m on the soccer team, Dior.”

“Really?” I asked, genuinely shocked.

“How hard did that ball hit you?” she asked, laughing, “how’s that lip feeling?”

“I think I’m good now. Thanks,” I said, standing up and leaving the trainers room.

That was one of the weirdest experiences I’ve had in a while. I talked to someone I liked. She wasn’t invasive; she made me laugh without having to force it. People started to show up at the gym, which was my cue to leave. When I finally arrived home. I sat in my room for hours clicking away at my computer planning a surprise for one unlucky lady. Before I knew it night fell and it was finally time for me to get some much-needed relaxation. I let my parents know I was going to bed, put on my nightclothes, and went into my own world.

I woke up late the next morning and stumbled out of my room with sleep fresh in my eyes. My mom and dad were standing in the kitchen having an intense conversation. I overheard them talking about the tragic discovery of a teenage girl’s body. A breaking news report interrupted the regularly scheduled news program to report the discovery of this girl. She was left lying in a wooded area off the side of a highway where some truckers doing a night job found her. That’s all I needed to know.

“Good morning,” I said, walking into the kitchen.

“Dior, have you heard?” my father said, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“About that girl? Yeah, I saw the news alert, “ lied, “ what do they think happened?” I asked.

“Oh, the police aren’t sure, but they know it was foul play. That poor girl. No one deserves what happened to her. And her poor family having to wake up to that news, it must be awful,” my mom said.

“Yeah, I feel for them.”

“What happened to your face?” my father asked, stepping closer to me.

“I got hit by a pitch yesterday.”

“By who?” my dad snapped angrily.

“By no one. It was my own fault. I had the pitching machine going and I started to daydream and one of the wild pitches got me in the mouth,” I explained. 

“Sounds like you. You’ve always been a bit of an airhead,” my mom said, smiling sweetly at me.

“I’m going to head out to our shop. I got my bat all dirty this week so I’m gonna have to clean it,” I said, trying to slip out of the house.

“Alright, here,” my dad handed me the keys. I went upstairs to get dressed and went out the back door to my car. 

Once I arrived at the auto garage, I opened the door and drove my car in, closing up behind me. I washed up my bat, pouring the dirty water into the drain being sure to use a finishing bleach product. I was satisfied looking at my polished bat; good as new. I leaned back against the car, admiring it. I remember the day my parents walked me into a sporting goods store and bought me this one prized possession. Two years later and I’d never part ways with it. I cleaned up the shop along with my car, tossed my bat in the back seat, drove out the garage, and went on my way. I looked at the pictures police released regarding the body they found earlier and I knew where it was. Curiosity took over and I drove to the crime scene hoping to get a better look. As I rolled up to the crime scene, I could see some police officers lingering after cleaning up the rest of the tape. That’s all I needed to see, so I drove off.

The murder of Nicole Jamison was all the buzz at school on Monday. Her murder had, unfortunately, become high school gossip. Everyone had their theories about what happened to her and who the neighborhood creep was, but only one living person knew the truth. 

“It’s crazy, isn’t it?”

I turned to see Hailey walking beside me, “yeah, pretty wild,” I responded.

“What do you think happened?” she asked.

“I don’t know. It could have been anything if you think about it. Lovers quarrel, a crime of opportunity, or a meticulous killer who knew exactly what was going to happen,” I said.

“Someone watched all eight seasons of Dexter. You sure know how to analyze a crime scene,” she said, seemingly impressed. I liked this girl.

“You want to walk to trig together?” I asked.

“Sure.” 

The rest of the day went by so slowly. I laid my head on my stacked up fists as I tried to get through multiple agonizingly slow classes. Everyone talking about Nicole was starting to drive me crazy. It was horrible what happened to her, but hearing about it 24/7 was killing me. I skipped extra practice since I was up and at it early that morning and went home when the school had finally ended. I hopped on my computer to do some work and extra research before going downstairs to have dinner with my family.

“They finally released the name of that poor girl from the other day,” my mom said as if that wasn’t already old news.

I dropped my hands, causing the table to shake and rolled my eyes, “really? Now you want to play a news reporter too?” I said annoyed.

“I was just trying to start a conversation,” she said innocently,

“And the dead girl was the perfect topic right? Real classy, mom.”

“Dior, relax,” my dad said knowing I was irritated, “and talking about a murder over dinner is not a conversation starter, Madeline.”

“You know what, I’m going to put something on in the living room, if either of you would like to join me, be my guest,” I said, taking my food into the living room. I guess I’m really in this now. Honestly, Nicole’s death will probably blow over in a few days when the next news story breaks and everyone forgets about her. As sad as it is, that’s how things go in this small town. 

I finished my dinner alone before washing my dishes and heading upstairs to my room. I spent some time scrolling through my phone, watching baseball, and playing Xbox. When I finally got bored, I turned everything off and went downstairs to say goodnight to my parents. I went back up to my room and put on my nightclothes and disappeared until morning.

We had a day off from school, so my dad and I planned to spend it together since my mom had to go to work and the two of us had nothing better to do. We drove down to the indoor batting cages where I could also practice pitching. There was a bug shipping yard we had to pass on the way there. As we started to get closer to the yard, my dad started to slow down. I looked up from my phone and my eyes drifted over to see what he was seeing. Another crime scene crawling with cops. A dead body was laying on the ground covered in a tarp.

“Another one?” he said, in disbelief.

“Yeah, I guess so. You think it’s the same guy?” I asked.

“How many killers could there possibly be in a small town? Of course it’s the same guy.”

“So we've got a serial,” I said.

“I guess so.” 

As soon as we got home, I went straight to my room and checked the news to find out any details I could about the second murder. All I could find was a written statement from the sheriff of the town, explaining that there was a link to the murder of Nicole Jamison. Both victims were killed by blunt force trauma to the head and they were both missing an earring from their left ear. Both victims were teenage girls although they looked nothing alike. The latest victim had been identified as seventeen-year-old Lindsey Barclays. They believe they had a serial killer on their hands and they showed no signs of stopping. I closed my laptop and looked over at my bat sitting in the corner. I had already cleaned it the night before, so my obsession with it staying as pristine as possible was taken care of. 

It had been exactly three weeks since the first murder and the body count had risen to seven. A strange man had come to my father's auto garage asking for touch-up on his car. He was tall, about my height, brown hair mixed with streaks of gray, although he only seemed to be in his early twenties. He started a conversation with me about the murders, as if he thought I would know something the rest of the world didn’t. He spoke highly of the killer and commented on how smart he was. He seemed to be impressed with the lack of evidence the killer left behind, how meticulous he was when he took a trophy from each of his victims and how he seemed to lure his victims without making a scene. He then suggested that the killer had to be a loner. Someone who didn’t have any friends or family to realize they weren’t around at certain hours of the night. I acted like I didn’t want to hear any more of his ridiculous theories, but I kept the important pieces of evidence in my head. When the car was finished, he paid my father in cash and went on his way. 

“What is it, son?” he asked, noticing the perplexed look on my face.

“That guy was weird, dad. He was oddly obsessed with every aspect of the murders. He gave me the creeps,” I paused for a moment, “What if that was him?” I suggested.

“It probably wasn’t, Dior,” he said, reassuring me. 

“How would you know? Unless you’re the bayside basher,” I joked.

“Haha very funny. If it makes you feel any better, we can send in a tip about him if he really ticked something in you.”

“Alright, give me his information and I’ll call in the tip later,” I said. My father walked over to his desk and took out the file of information, including his name, address, and cell number, “I’m going to make a few stops.”

“Alright, be safe.”

I got in my car and called the strange man, Kevin, was his name and he lived not too far from here.

After a few rings, he answered, “Hey, Kevin, it’s Dior from Boucher Auto Garage. We need a signature on one of the insurance payments so you can get your points, would you mind coming back to take care of that?” I said.

“Oh, yeah sure. I’m actually pretty far away at the hardware store so I won’t be back in the area for a couple of hours,” he told me.

“That’s fine, I can actually just drop it off at your house if someone’s there or I could just leave it in your mailbox for you,” I offered.

“That’d be great, I live alone so that wouldn’t be a problem,” hm, I thought to myself a guy in his early twenties with no friends or family around at night to know if he was home or not, sounds familiar. 

“Okay, I’ll do that for you right now,” I hung up before he could get a word in and got to work. 

I got into my car and drove to the address on the file. It was a 20-minute drive from the garage, which gave me the time I needed to think about what the plan would be. When I pulled up to his house, it was an average looking townhouse. There was a basic white picket fence guarding the red house. I parked on the side of the road and undetected, I dropped off all the things I had come to deliver. As I got back into my car, I pulled out my phone, put it on speaker and called in the tip about Kevin Speltzer. 

The next day, I sat with my father at the auto garage after school. The police had contacted us asking why I suspected Kevin of a crime and told us that the name rang a bell in their database; they took my tip seriously. It turns out he had taken a plea deal when he was charged for aggravated assault of a young woman when he was still in college. Based on the lack of leads, the police took this seriously and were granted a warrant to search his house. When they executed the warrant, they found the nail in the coffin. Kevin had a box with the earring each victim of the Bayside Basher had taken from the crime scene. They called my parents and I asked if they could stake out the auto shop and wait for him to come by and drop off the paperwork I had taken to his house. I wouldn’t be there since I had a baseball game that my mom was going to, so it was just going to be my dad. 

We won the game in the tenth inning when I hit a walk-off that allowed Griffin to score. The whole team celebrated by jumping on Griffin when he got home base and squirting water on him from our bottles. We celebrated with our families who had made plans for the team to come over to Griffin’s house for a team dinner. My mom and I had to explain that we were going to be late because of the situation my father was in. My mom drove me to the police station where they took my dad after arresting Kevin for the Bayside Basher murders. They thanked us for the tips I called in and everything my dad did to help lure him into the trap. They explained to us that they found everything they needed to convict him except for the murder weapon. Too bad they didn’t know I just used the very thing they were looking for to hit a walk-off. Poor Hailey had no idea she was next.