A Knife in the Heart. Michael Benson
sister that evening, but he would be available later on.
Egle, one of the many women who hadn’t fallen for that ol’ Camacho magic, couldn’t understand what the big deal was with Joshua. The guy stood five-five tops and walked with a swagger, like he thought he was a tough guy or something. He sneered rather than smiled. One thing was for sure, he had a hold on Rachel. What was it about Joshua? That was the big mystery. He lacked prospects and any kind of a promising future. In high school, he’d worked as a cook at Chick-fil-A and Pollo Tropical, but after graduation it was as if he had retired to smoke pot. Joshua was content to be just a “playa” and a user. He didn’t have a steady job. He wasn’t going to school. He stayed with family members, unless he could talk one of his girls into letting him spend the night.
At twilight, Rachel was out walking her dog. Sarah cruised by in her parents’ minivan.
“Stay away from my man!” Sarah screamed.
Rachel was frightened. She didn’t want to be caught alone by Sarah, who was huge, or any of the friends she might be with. Rachel put a kitchen knife in her purse. That would scare them off.
Rachel also needed backup. She called her friend Javier and asked if she could come over.
At 11:00 P.M., Joshua and Sarah were playing Wii at Janet Camacho’s house. Headlights pierced the window. Joshua went to look and saw Rachel’s car pass.
Seconds later, Joshua received a text from Rachel: Now I know why you’re not talking to me—because you got her.
Joshua texted back: That’s right. I don’t like you no more. Why are you down this street? Go home.
Rachel responded: No, I’ll wait for her to go home.
Sarah didn’t want to leave the house and drive home, knowing that Rachel was out there, waiting for her; so Sarah texted her dad and said she was going to be home a little late.
Sarah’s curfew was 11:00 P.M.; so the truth was, she was already a little late.
Charlie texted back, asking when she’d be home. Sarah answered that it would be soon.
Rachel left.
Just before midnight, Sarah kissed Joshua good-bye and left. Joshua’s sister Janet and her friend Jilica Smith, who’d been sitting in cars with boys out front, asked Sarah if she’d give them a ride to McDonald’s before heading home.
Already late, Sarah said sure, what’s a few more minutes? So all three got into the minivan and headed to get fast food. At a stop sign, they encountered Sarah’s friend Ashley Lovelady, who told them she’d just seen Rachel.
Rachel was only a short distance away, hanging out with two boys in front of Javier Laboy’s house. Enraged, Sarah hit the gas so hard she left a patch of rubber on the street. Janet knew Javier—and didn’t like him. Javier had had trouble with Joshua over Erin Slothower. Her father had to call the cops on that jackass once for throwing an egg at their house.
Jilica sensed that they weren’t headed for McDonald’s anymore. As they sped along, Sarah’s cell phone rang.
It was Rachel.
“I’m going to kill you and your Mexican boyfriend!” Rachel screamed. Nobody was sure if the phone was on speakerphone, but Rachel was plenty loud and everyone in the minivan heard her. Sarah drove to Javier’s house as fast as she could.
There Rachel was, leaning on her car, her white tank top and white tennis shoes lit bright by Sarah’s headlights. Skinny ass trying to look tough. Sarah screeched to a stop in the middle of the street.
Chapter 5
“WE NEED AN AMBULANCE. PLEASE HELP.”
Twelve forty-five A.M., on April 15, 2009, the call came into the Pinellas Park Police emergency center.
A male operator said: “Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?”
“We have someone on the floor who has been stabbed. We need an ambulance. Please help,” said Javier Laboy.
In the background, the operator could hear a woman yelling, words a mile a minute, barely intelligible Spanglish, except for the punctuation of bilingual profanities.
The caller, talking to the woman, not the operator, said, “Hey, Janet.” It sounded like an effort to pacify her, but his words failed to break her momentum.
Multiple raised voices could now be heard. The operator asked for, and received, the address of the incident. Judging from the background noise, the dispatcher felt it was ongoing.
The operator asked, “Where was the person stabbed?”
“She’s on the floor.”
“Where is the person who stabbed them?”
“She’s right here, too.”
“Where are they?”
“Right here in the driveway.”
“What is the phone number you are calling from? Help is on the way.”
Javier still had the fast-talking woman in his ear. He didn’t hear the question, and it had to be repeated. This time it registered and he gave the operator his cell phone number.
“And where is the knife at now?”
“It’s in her hand. You’d better hurry up and get here quick.”
“They’re already on their way.”
Just then, the operator heard a fresh urgency to the voices on the other end of the line, which he interpreted as new violence.
The caller said, “Whoa. Whoa. Janet, Janet, Janet, back up. Janet! Janet!”
“Sir?”
There was the sound of a dial tone for a few seconds; then a second operator, a woman, came on the line, “Police.”
The male dispatcher said there was an assault in progress and gave the address, and that was the last the caller heard from him.
“What’s going on?” the female operator asked.
“There was a fight and someone was stabbed.”
“Who stabbed her?”
Again the caller was distracted by the chaos around him. “Get inside,” he could be heard saying.
“Sir, can you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“Sir, what happened?”
“We were hanging out. There was a fight.”
“Who was fighting?”
“The girls. Oh, her eyes are rolling. God! Oh, you got to hurry.”
“They’re on their way. Calm down, sir. Just tell me what happened.”
“There was a fight and they tried to jump her. She pulled out her pocketknife trying to defend herself. By the time we got there, it was too late and she was already stabbed. She’s on the floor.”
“Was it a male or a female who was stabbed? Female? It was a female who was stabbed?”
“Yes.”
“A female stabbed her? Is the female still there?”
“Yes, everyone is still here.”
“How many subjects are there?”
“One, two, three, four, five, six. She’s stabbed in the chest.”
“All right, just stay on the phone with me, okay?”
“All right.”
“Where is the knife now, sir?”
“I—I—I—I have no idea.”
“Okay,