by Samson Weld
It was a black leather blazer. Looked sharp and TV cop professional. Her hair was down. First time he’d seen it not in a ponytail. She looked quite attractive, though there was a little fish out of water look about her, too.
“I bought it just for that news conference,” she said. “It was on sale.”
“Well, you look good,” he said. “How can I help you, Detective?”
“Disappear,” she said.
“Excuse me?”
“As you heard, the case is closed. Neither the DA nor my superiors wish to pursue the vigilante case. Can’t say I agree with them, but can’t say I disapprove, either.”
“So I’m off the hook?”
“For now. As long as you keep to the straight and narrow, we will not pursue this case any further,” she said. “It’s time for you to move on, Mr. Wexler. I’d suggest moving back to California. I hear the weather is wonderful.”
Such a sense of relief washed over him. His eyes began to burn.
“Yes, I’m afraid you’re right. It’s time I moved on,” he said yet knowing they weren’t speaking about the same thing. “Thank you, Detective Bellucci.”
“Hey, you saved my life,” she said. “Now behave yourself and go live your best life.”
“I will. Thank you again,” he said and ended the call.
Ash walked back to the bedroom and closed the door to his armory. There wasn’t anything in there he needed now. Then he put on his coat and returned to the living room. After turning off the TV, he picked up the bottle of Oxycodone.
Stepping outside, he stopped to savor the bright, warm day. It was almost California winter warm.
Driving into Rockwall, he stopped at a flower shop and bought a vase of daffodils. Then he headed for the nearby columbarium where his family’s ashes’ lay at rest. The tears began flowing even before he could set the flowers down.
“Well, baby, it’s done. The men who killed you are all dead,” he said. “I know you hate violence, but sometimes a man just has to do what he has to do. I’m sorry.” He looked up and around. “And it’s time I moved on with my life, too. It breaks my heart, but … As someone just said to me today, I need to go live my best life.”
He sat there most of the afternoon, reminiscing about the good old days, about all the good times they’d had together and with the boys. When the sun touched the western horizon, Ash said his goodbyes.
“Don’t worry. I’ll still visit with you.”
He hopped into his F-150 and headed into Dallas. Traffic was heavy, but lighter than expected on I-30 and LBJ as he headed westward. Turning off at Preston, his heart began to race as he called another number.
“Hello?” Deanna answered.
“Hi, it’s Ash,” he said. “I’d like to talk. Can you meet me somewhere?”
There was a hesitation. “I’m eating lunch at Raising Cane’s on Beltline and Runyon Road.”
“Lunch at five o’clock?”
“Shift work,” she said.
He smiled and nodded. “I’ll be right there.”
He turned west on Beltline a moment later and headed for her location, just a few miles up the road. Ash managed to hit the lights just right, which he took as a good omen. And he finally parked next to her car in front of Raising Cane’s Chicken Fingers.
Deanna stood to hug him before they sat opposite each other. Ash smiled and placed the bottle of Oxycodone on the table.
“Sorry about stealing those,” he said. “I only ate a few.”
“I’m impressed you returned them, since you live such a dark and violent live,” she said with just a hint of bitterness.
“It’s over,” he said, noticing how she perked up. “Can we start over?”
“What do you mean?”
Ash smiled and extended his hand.
“Hi, I’m Ash,” he said. “Pleased to meet you.”
She took his hand, kissed it, and smiled back. “Bet I’m more pleased.”
Ash felt happiness, real happiness, for the first time in years. He could do this. He could start over, begin a new life. And yet he had the peculiar feeling that his work wasn’t done. Justice was a work in progress, right?
And he would be there if anyone ever needed him…
THE END
Ash Wexler's adventures continue in ASH RECKONING. Get the book now!
Ash Reckoning Sneak Peek
Trembling fingers clacked across the keyboard. He worried the inside of his cheek as his eyes scanned page after page, checking tracking numbers of items purchased. The first one, a Taser Pulse with two cartridges and an LED laser, showed DELIVERED.
Perfect, he thought. I need that before I can do anything.
His shoulders tightened. Eyes began to burn, forcing him to blink before continuing. With heart pounding, he checked his purchase from other site.
One more. If it’s here…
Typing in the online store’s address, he entered his user name and password. Then he clicked through to check his order. His breath whooshed out when he saw DELIVERED.
He closed his eyes a moment. It’s almost over, Romy. Walt won’t get away with what he did.
He looked at the picture of his purchase. A very sleek and scary looking skinning knife. Romy had suffered so terribly before she died. Her killer absolutely had to suffer a death ten times worse. And even that was too good for this scumbag.
Going to a window, he looked out upon the wooded creek behind the complex. Across the creek, and three complexes down, he spotted the apartment of his soon-to-be victim. The lights went out as he stared.
I wish you’d never come to our pawn shop, he thought. I curse the day my wife spoke to you.
He headed for the car. His one bedroom apartment sat on the second floor overlooking a creek in back, and the parking lot in front. He’d managed to get the parking spot closest to the outdoors stairs.
Descending as quietly as possible, he got into his blue Ford Fusion and headed for the south side of Lake Highlands. He lived in the same Dallas neighborhood, but on the north side of I-635, on Forest Lane. The Postal Depot where he rented a large box was just a few miles away.
The Postal Depot was in an older, run down strip mall. No security cameras anywhere, as far as he could tell. That was the main reason he’d picked the place. It was closed for the night, but he had a key to access the customer postal box area. Just in case, he kept his head down when he entered and opened his large box on bottom. Box 324. Two packages waited inside.
He smiled and picked them up. There was a satisfying weight to them, as if that made them more deadly, more frightening.
Taking his packages, he headed home. A sense of serenity came over him. His plan was coming together. It would soon be over. Romy would finally be able to rest in peace. It felt like a good omen when his parking place was still empty.
Once inside, he opened the first package on the dining room table. The Taser Plus was a pistol-like weapon with a range of fifteen feet. It came with two cartridges and a target, but there wouldn’t be any target practice. That would require him to buy more cartridges and delay his vengeance.
He loaded a cartridge into the business end of the Taser and then placed it on the table. The other package beckoned him. The Taser was to capture; the skinning knife was for the actual revenge. Though he had no intention of actually skinning his victim, a skinning knife seemed to him the perfect torture device.
The skinning knife only had a four-inch blade, but he found it razor sharp. The gut hook made it look even more wicked. He slipped it into the accompanying sheath.
Going to the bedroom, he began to dress all in black. New black jeans. A black shirt, long-sleeved of course. He had gloves and a pullover ski mask, too, that he stuffed into a cloth grocery bag. He added the skinning knife, the Taser and spare cartridge, and finally his lock-picking kit. Those items went on top of the pillowcase and old socks.
Everything arrived just in time for your vacation, Walt, so it’ll be two weeks before anyone realiz
es you’re missing.
If anyone even misses your stupid ass.
Picking up a shovel and a twenty-foot roll of quarter inch twisted white cotton rope as well, he turned off all of the lights and listened at the front door. No sounds of anyone outside, so he slipped out as stealthily as possible and eased down the stairs.
A car turned into the parking lot, the headlights flashing him. He froze, gawking. Then the pickup continued to an empty spot just three down from his car. Ford F-150. Blue. Was it the new neighbor on the third floor?
He turned and rushed between buildings, heading toward the creek with the shovel, rope, and bag. Most of the apartments remained dark, their occupants already in bed in anticipation of another day at work tomorrow.
The five-foot chain link fence wasn’t an obstacle and soon he melted into the dark growth lining the dry creek below. He moved quickly through the willows and scrub oak, the occasional mesquite. The city had really let that creek go wild, which made it perfect for his purpose.
Finding the spot he’d scouted out previously, he immediately cut the rope into four equal lengths. He then laid down, spread eagle in the middle of four small trees. Perfect, since Walt was about the same size. So he tied each of the four pieces of rope to the base of the trees.
That’ll hold him, he thought.
Then, just five feet away and in the dry creek bed, he began digging into the soft earth.
Get Ash Reckoning now!
About the Authors
Tom Gallier was born in Beaumont, Texas. He served 7 years in an Armored Cavalry Regiment (11th ACR Blackhorse Regiment), learning no useful skills. After the Army he went back to school to study electronics, figuring that would be a profession with job security. In 2008 he was laid off.
It wasn’t the first time or last time he was wrong. But while in school, and holding down a full time job, he began writing in his spare time. In the mid-nineties he had his first short story sale and publication. He shares his life with his wife and their two dogs.
You can contact Tom at: [email protected]
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100011307840927
Before going into publishing, Samson Weld was a world-renowned pediatrician running a clinic in the war-torn jungle of Burma. He keeps modeling strictly as a hobby, when he's not volunteering to find homes for abandoned puppies. Samson Weld is also a seasoned liar.
That's because Samson Weld is in fact the pen name of Steve Richer, the international bestselling author of the thrillers The President Killed His Wife, Stranger Danger, and The Pope’s Suicide.
You can expect Samson Weld books to be outrageously fun and reading like action movies.
You can Like Steve Richer on Facebook for all the latest news.
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More from Samson Weld
Lewd Behavior
Ash Reckoning (Ash Wexler #2)
Ash Punishment (Ash Wexler #3)
And as Steve Richer
The President Killed His Wife (Rogan Bricks 1)
Counterblow (Rogan Bricks 2)
Murder Island (Rogan Bricks 3)
The Pope’s Suicide
Stranger Danger
A Perfect Tenant
Critical Salvage
Terror Bounty
Park Avenue Blackmail
The Kennedy Secret
The Gilded Treachery
Never Bloodless
The Atomic Eagle
Sigma Division
Intense Past: Historical Thriller Collection
Eyes Only: Spy Thriller Collection
