Chapter 19

Teen fights off arrow attack

Naked student wounds assailant at archery range

By Johanna Brahms
Staff Writer

A student from Central High School foiled an attempt on her life Sunday when she shot her attacker in the buttock with an arrow. The student, who is active in the nudism program at the high school, was naked at the time.

The attack occurred about 10 a.m. while the 14-year-old ninth-grader was taking target practice at Eddie's Archery Range in Foley Park on Hawthorne Lane. Police said the attacker, whom they described as a hired killer, pinned her down behind a target by lobbing arrows at her.

"The arrowheads were heavy, the kind hunters use to bring down deer," said Det. Maria Sanchez of the Police Department. "This guy meant business. He was definitely trying to kill her -- we believe because of her involvement with the Naked in School Program."

The student ran from target to target, hiding from the barrage, and returned fire with her own arrows when her assailant emerged from cover to look for her, police said.

"He was stalking her, and he was awfully surprised when she starting shooting back at him," Sanchez said. "He turned tail and ran, and she got him in the ... well, she got him."

The alleged hit man, identified as Joseph Anthony Martini, no address given, was treated for his wound at Alfred Memorial Hospital, then taken into custody and charged with attempted murder. Police would not comment on whether the suspect has confessed, or whether he named the person who ordered the killing.

The name of the student has been withheld.

"This girl is a hero," Sanchez said. "Naked, alone, and frightened, she found the courage and the skill to fight back and save her own life."

"Oh shit!" I slapped the newspaper down on the kitchen counter.

"Dee!" Mom pointed to the jar on the counter before picking up the newspaper.

Reaching in my pocket -- being naked just felt too exposed today -- I dug a quarter out and flipped it into the mayo jar from five feet away. As they say in basketball, nothing but net. Practice makes perfect. The jar's half full already, enough for another movie. How time flies ... I sat at the kitchen table and buried my face in my hands.

"I can't believe she said that!" I muffled out.

"Oh dear," Mom said, handing the newspaper to Elaine before going back to the French toast, flipping it deftly.

"Oh my!" Elaine responded after reading the article. "Can I touch you?" she added mockingly.

"Don't you dare!" I warned her, dropping my hands to consider the chances of drowning myself in my orange juice.

"I don't see what's so wrong with it," Elaine protested. "I think it's a rather nice article."

I tried to change the subject. "And speaking of Maria, where is she? She's s'posed to be bringing Bessie home this morning."

The doorbell went.

"My guess is that's her," Mom said, dropping everything to follow me, perhaps to keep me from throttling my favorite Hispanic detective.

The relief of seeing Bessie safe made me postpone screaming at her. I didn't know whether to hug her or Bessie first so I compromised by hugging them both.

"Why don't you put Bessie away, Dee? Maria, come in and have some breakfast," Mom invited, hitting the button to open the garage door.

Soon the four of us were at the table, reducing the stack of French toast to crumbs. I guess nothing can kill my appetite.

"I can't believe you called me a hero. How could you?" I asked between bites.

"I said it, Chiquita, and I meant it." She didn't look the slightest bit guilty as she drizzled syrup.

"It's not true! I'm no hero! I was terrified! I was so scared I was pissing in my panties -- or I would have if I'd had my panties on! All I was trying to do was survive out there!"

"You are a hero!"

"No I'm not!"

Maria eyed me with those dark eyes of hers. "Chiquita, do you know who General George Patton was?"

"What's old 'Blood 'n' Guts' got to do with it?"

"You know your history!"

"We're studying World War II right now. One of the guys in class gave a report about the movie. He's not exactly a role model. He slapped a soldier in the hospital, in Sicily I think, for being a coward. The way I see it he'd slap me silly."

"So he wasn't perfect, but you're wrong. Wouldn't you say he knew heroes if anyone did?"

I shrugged.

"Well, he once said the real hero is the man who fights even though he is scared. Those were his exact words. Isn't that what you did?"

"You've got the scared part right! But did you have to call me a hero and get it in the paper? The article's bad enough. Couldn't you have kept the whole thing quiet? They managed to do that with The Worm."

"Who's the worm? Oh, Worthington. We did the best we could, Chiquita, believe me, but it was just too good a story for that reporter to pass up. A naked teenage girl facing down a professional hit man, bows and arrows at ten paces? That is News with a capital 'N.' At least she stuck to the facts and kept your name out of it."

"Kept my name out of it? Lot of good that did. Don't you get it? I've been outed!"

"How so?" For a smart doctor sometimes Elaine could be pretty dense.

"The total population of naked, female, ninth-grade archers in this town ranges from zero to one, depending on where I am in relation to the town line," I pointed out. "Everyone'll know it's me! It's a good thing there's a teacher's conference today. The guys'd at school would be on me like fleas on a dog. Another chapter added to The Legend of Dee."

I almost contributed to the curse jar again. I've really gotta cut down on the four letter expletives.

"So, Chiquita, since you got the day off you can come with me this morning. You need to sign your statement and the guys in the crime lab could use your help."

"Can't you see what helping you has already gotten me into? And help with what? And is that why you're here? To get me in deeper?"

"I'm here 'cause I brought Bessie back to you, and for some of your Mamacita's delicious French toast, and to see how you're doing, of course. But figured I could ask."

All I could do was shake my head. I knew her well enough to know she'd use that silver tongue of hers to talk me into helping her somehow. She's still trying to turn me into a junior G-man -- or woman.

"What would the crime lab want her for?" Mom asked warily. "Is she under suspicion?"

"No no no. Anything but. They're trying to piece together exactly how it went down at the park." Maria forked another slice of French toast off the stack, with a nod of her head to Mom as thanks. "After she signs her statement we'd like her at the range to walk us through exactly what happened. They call it a reconstruction."

"You mean actually at the range?" I felt a chill at the thought. "I'd rather not, thank you! I don't ever want to see that place again!"

"I don't blame you," Maria agreed, "but it would be a big help."

"No, you have no idea!"

"You've loved your time there, ever since Ms. Andrews got you started," Mom pointed out.

"In the first place, she only did it as a way to work off my anger management issues caused by my PTSD from -- well never mind. And look where that's got me."

"I hate to see you lose that. You do enjoy it."

I sighed, knowing Mom was right.

"You gonna let him take that away from you?" Maria asked. I wavered. She does know how to manipulate me.

"It might help you again. What about if we all go with you?" Elaine offered. Ever the doctor she throws some psych into her gyno practice -- calls it "holistic medicine." First time I heard her use the term I thought she was talking about the female openings she so enjoys exploring.

Shit. I was getting it in surround sound. "Don't you guys have work?"

"I'm on call," Elaine admitted, "but I don't have anyone near term at the moment."

"I called in yesterday to tell them I wouldn't be in," Mom explained. "Sorry to be a clinging Mom but I'm not letting you out of my sight today."

Well that was a familiar theme after one of my adventures.

"I can't force you to do it," Maria admitted, "but Martini's lawyer might try to claim you started the whole thing. He might get that scum off by creating reasonable doubt in the jury's mind, but with your help we can nail him for good."

"I already nailed him, in his ass. Isn't that enough?"

"Right now the lab guys can only testify to what the evidence appears to show -- you know, where the arrows are, stuff like that. They'll be able to do a better job if you can show them how it all went down."

"It has to be up to you," Mom assured me, her touch warm on my wrist.

From wavering I started to tilt. I really did enjoy archery, and I'd really hate to see that fucker -- it's a good thing I can't be fined for what I think or I'd be broke! -- get off.

"Maybe we can try to think of it as a walk in the park," Maria suggested.

I remembered the walk and talk and lunch Ms. Andrews and I had shared after I'd dealt with my anger over Bessie's stomping. I'd felt pretty good after that.

I sighed. "Okay, I'll do it, if you really think it'll help. But he better not be there. I can't promise I won't try to kill him if he is."

"He won't be. He doesn't want you coming within twenty miles of him. After what you did he thinks you're loco. I didn't say anything to change his mind."

So after tidying things Mom rode with Elaine while I was shotgun with Maria. I used the time to ask her if anyone besides her knew that I was the one who'd come up with the name of Martini's employer. Even I was smart enough to know if that got out I'd have a bull's eye on my forehead.

She shook her head. "I passed it along to Sgt. Kelly without telling. He knows my snitches, suspects it was you, but he promised when he passed it on he'd make it sound like it came from Martini. If the bad guys think Martini rolled over on them, so much the better. It'll make his life in jail all the more exciting."

"Well, considering his size if he rolled over on anyone they'd be goners, but I thought he was a pro and would never talk."

"He hasn't, 'cept to you, but only 'cause he's more afraid of them than us, an' I suspect something about your interrogation method is one reason he's more scared of you," she said. "They made a mistake when they hired him. He's a bargain basement freelancer. They thought you'd be an easy target."

The thought people could be so casual about killing me, about killing anyone, gave me a chill.

At the station there was some kind of a briefing going on when we passed the squad room. A few people glanced in my direction but didn't really take much notice, except Maria's boss, Detective Sergeant Kelly, who was at the front table with some important looking suits. He gave me a thumbs up when he saw me.

"What's that all about?" I asked as we went back to the lab.

"Big bust in the works," Maria explained casually. "You done good, Chiquita."

"What? Why? How come you're not in there with Sergeant Kelly?"

"'cause I got other fish to fry, Chiquita, namely you."

I wasn't sure I liked that turn of phrase, but didn't say anything.

"Come on, let's get that statement signed and talk to the squints."

After I signed my statement the lab guys fingerprinted me, asked me to pee in a cup, drew some blood and swabbed the inside of my cheek to get DNA. They told me that was so they could make sure who left what where. God knows I'd left enough panic sweat and pee out there to fill a bucket.

At the park the range was all festive with police line tape, and we were dressed like a hazmat team dealing with something really yucky. I could see why they called what we were wearing "bunny suits." Engulfed in loose, disposable coveralls, with puffy hairnets on our heads and booties on our feet we looked like a convention of giant white rabbits. They said it was so we wouldn't contaminate the crime scene, in addition to what I'd done yesterday, that is.

"Come on, let's get this over with," I said aloud, my tension building.

All too soon I found myself entering the scene of the crime, Maria in front of me, Elaine on one side, Mom the other. The three of us were surrounded by lab guys with their cameras and equipment boxes and stuff. In addition to a case of nerves I was hot and uncomfortable and wanted to strip to my Program uniform and drown myself in the nearest swimming pool. I'd go for even the duck pond.

On the other hand the suit made me look like just another one of the rabbits. A lurking newspaper photographer had made a run at us until the uniforms guarding the scene chased him off.

I explained how I'd come in the gate, greeted Eddie at the shack and sent him off for his latte fix before undressing and leaving my clothes on the bench, mentioning I'd transferred my cell to the strap of my quiver 'cause I'd promised Mom I would, just in case.

Just in case! Woooo! We'd had no idea.

Anyway, talking about my stripping got no comments, no questions beyond "And what did you do next, Miss Walker?" from the head of the team, though I saw a couple of younger guys making eyes at me and whispering. They were obviously disappointed this was a dressed rehearsal.

Sorry guys, no show today.

Trust you to show up, I told The Stick.

I'd like to give them a week in The Program for an attitude adjustment.

So would I, I agreed with a mental sigh.

From there I went to where I'd stood to fire my first flight of arrows. When I asked about my bow they told me it was in their evidence locker, along with my arrows, leaving me to wonder when I'd get them back. With the photographer gone I could safely do a pantomime of shooting, showing them how I placed my feet and everything. I mentioned I usually warmed up at twenty yards but that I'd felt pretty loose so I'd started at forty yards.

That made me realize it had been an incredible stroke of good luck, and not the only one. If I'd been retrieving my arrows from the butt at twenty yards chances are he would have nailed me with his first shot. I also remembered another bit of luck -- I'd jerked my release, sending my first arrow into the butt well outside the target. After I'd steadied down and taken a deep breath to relax I'd fired a nice tight pattern with the remaining eleven arrows.

Down by the butt I showed them how I always pulled my arrows out. Standing in front of the butt I spread my left hand to press the target flat as I pretended to draw arrows straight out with my right hand. Sticks through the holes made by Martini's arrows poked me, one between my tits, the other right about at my belly button.

I wished I didn't have such a vivid imagination. For a moment I rested my forehead against the butt to steady myself, drawing a shaky breath. Mom saw and gave me a reassuring hug, and no one said anything.

"And then you hid behind the butt," the senior lab rat gently prompted me when I'd pulled myself together and showed them where I'd been when Martini's first arrow hit the butt. He was pretty cool about this whole thing. I guess he'd cleaned up a lot of crime scenes.