He headed up Valley Drive, past the place he found Cara, clear to the end. He found the old van parked underneath the apple tree, exactly as Cara had described. James left the motor running in his car, then climbed out and strode to the rear of the van. He pounded on the metal door. For a few seconds he heard nothing. At last a voice called out, “Fuck off, Cara! You ain’t getting no more shit from me!” “I’m not Cara.” The back door of the van opened. James stared at a half-dressed, scruffy looking man in his early twenties. He had several deep red slashes along one cheek. “Who the fuck are you?” “Your worst nightmare.” James hauled him out the back of the van and slammed him against the apple tree. “You beat up a girl tonight. She’s a good friend of mine. You tried to rape her, didn’t you? Didn’t you?” “Nah, man, I didn’t try to rape her! Get your fucking hands off me! I didn’t try to rape her! You got it wrong. She asked me for it. She was begging me for it.
