By Alan Prendergast
By Michael Roberts
By Michael Roberts
By Amber Taufen
By Patricia Calhoun
By William Breathes
By Michael Roberts
By Melanie Asmar
Who did he think he was sitting with, Joanne wondered, the Virgin Mary? She knew what she was, but he didn't need to be so rude.
The incident was quickly forgotten, however, as Davis took her shopping. He seemed to have a lot of money and urged her to pick out whatever she wanted. She chose several new pairs of 501 jeans, Reebok running shoes, underwear and two watches.
It was like Christmas. No one had spent that kind of money on her since Truman Leuthauser, and she hadn't talked with him for eight years. (He'd shown up for her sentencing in the American Express case, but she had been too ashamed to contact him after that.) The day got even better after Davis took her to buy crack.
Now Davis said he wanted to go on that picnic. It sounded like fun; Joanne hadn't been to the mountains for ages.
They were soon driving past the former mining town of Black Hawk. A few miles up the highway, Davis turned off onto a gravel road. A quarter mile or so up the road, he pulled into a turnoff in front of an old cabin.
Joanne got out and stretched as he opened the side door and carefully selected a few items, including a cooler containing several beers and a sleeping bag to sit on.
A little stream ran alongside the path they took past the shack, and a sign at the trailhead announced that Missouri Falls was up ahead. After a five-minute climb they reached a clearing, and Davis spread out the sleeping bag.
Joanne sat down, took a sip from the beer Davis handed her and listened as he talked again about how much he loved this place. The air was warm and the stream burbled pleasantly nearby.
The next thing she knew, she was waking up on the sleeping bag. She could tell by the position of the sun that she had been out for a while. Davis was gone. Frightened, she stood up.
"Bob?" she called out. There was no answer. "Bob!" she shouted.
Joanne hadn't paid much attention to her surroundings during the drive, and now she realized she had no idea where she was. Her fear rising, she walked quickly back down the path to the cabin. It was with a mixture of relief and anger that she saw the van.
She walked back up the path to the clearing. Partway there, she stopped short. Later, she would not know whether to describe it as a vision or a waking dream, but suddenly she saw herself lying face down in the stream...drowned.
Her heart was pounding when she walked back into the clearing. Davis was still nowhere to be seen, but she had the distinct impression that he was watching her. She knew that he wanted to hurt her.
Suddenly Davis walked into the clearing. "Where have you been?" she yelled, close to tears. "I was scared."
Instead of apologizing, Davis answered anger with anger. His face flushed. "Don't you ever ask me where I go," he shouted. "If we come up here and you want to take some time to yourself, I won't ask you a bunch of questions. The same for me."
Joanne was taken aback by his vehemence. She thought she'd better defuse the situation.
"Come on, sit down," she said, sitting down herself and patting the ground by the sleeping bag. "I'm sorry. I told you when we met that I'm an addict, and I'm just really, really hurting for something."
There, she thought, let him "rescue" me in my time of need. She wanted crack all right, more than ever after this. But she had to be careful not to push this guy's buttons.
Davis's angry countenance softened immediately. Now he wanted sex.
The demand caught Joanne off-guard. She'd known what the price was going to be for the clothes and cocaine. But a moment before he had been practically screaming at her, and here he was talking about wanting to do it "doggie-style."
Joanne shook her head. She was a prostitute, but a modest one. "Not here," she said.
When Davis protested, beginning to get mad again, she suggested, "How about in the van?"
The sex that followed was angry. He pulled Joanne's hair until she cried out and thrust himself as if to hurt her.
After he finished, though, he was suddenly good old Bob Davis again. He explained that he'd left her in the clearing so that he could look at an old mine shaft he'd spotted on a previous trip. He hadn't meant to alarm her.
They drove back to Denver and he took her out to dinner. They again spent the night in the van. The next day Davis took Joanne to Five Points to buy more crack.
After the purchase, Joanne got back in the van and smoked the drug. This time Davis wanted to be repaid right away.
"You got your rocks--now I want to get my rocks off," he said. He suggested they have sex right there in the parking lot across from the dealer's house.