She depressed the garage door button activating the garage. Her shoulder stung slightly when she rotated it to reach the button. During her last encounter with Terri, she had suffered two minor injuries, a shot in the left shoulder and another in her right leg. Both wounds had healed; however, from time to time she could still feel the effects from that battle.
She turned the handle of the door leading into the house, “Garage door open” the mechanical voice announced. A new update to the security system after the home intrusion she experienced months prior. As the insistent tone of the alarm system escalated in urgency, she entered in the six-digit code. Satisfied with her entry, the tones diminished, and thoughts of Buckley resurfaced.
She was escalating at an alarming rate even for her, she thought as she ambled through the kitchen. Donatella retrieved a bottle of smartwater from the pantry as she made her way toward the foyer.
The foyer, the centerpiece within her Toll Brothers two-story chateau, had double helix staircases that wound toward the top floor. The polished marble flooring reflected the isolated table located by the front door. Donatella approached the table and gazed affectionately at the blue ocean breeze orchids that rested in the vase. Absentmindedly the enchantment of the flowers brought back fond memories of her mother.
“Mama, what kind of flower do you have planted in our yard?”
“Well sweetheart,” Mrs. Dabria stated while running her fingers through her daughter's silky long dark hair, “The flowers are not planted in our yard, they are planted in our flower bed. But to answer your question the flowers I have planted are called blue ocean breeze orchids. Why do you ask my dear?”
Biting her bottom lip and searching her mother with her hazelnut eyes, Donatella responded, “All of our neighbors have those red flowers –”
“Roses,” her mother corrected.
“Right! All of our neighbors have roses planted in their yards, I mean flowerbeds, and we have these blue flowers, blue orchids. Why do we have to be different?”
With a natural smile that ran from ear to ear and lit up every room she walked into she responded, “My dear Donatella, in life we do not need to conform to what we see others doing or follow the trends that others have set forth. I think red roses are beautiful; however, it takes a special green thumb to grow a blue orchid. Your grandmother taught me the key to having the orchids bloom this color blue and I have never shared that secret with anyone else. When you get older my daughter, I will share the secret with you, and should you choose to grow your own blue orchids you’ll be able to perfect this color as well.”
Donatella looked inquisitively at her mother with another question hanging precariously from her tongue. A pregnant pause later she formed the courage to ask her next question. “Mama, do I have to turn my thumb green to grow them?”
Mrs. Dabria let out a boisterous laugh she could feel deep within her gut. Holding her stomach and composing herself she simply said, “No sweetheart, you will not have to turn your thumb green.”
Allowing the memory to fade from her subconscious, she leaned forward and took a gentle whiff of the flowers. A month prior to the death of her parents, Donatella’s mom shared with her the secret to help the orchids blossom blue. Donatella and her mother planted the buds the night before leaving for the trip. It wasn’t until a few months later, when the orchids began to blossom, that Donatella even thought about the flowers again. The memories of the two of them planting the flowers and that being the last moment she spent with her mom came flooding back to her once again. She broke down in a stream of sobs and tears. Donatella vowed she would keep the tradition going and would always keep a vase of blue ocean breeze orchids present in her house. Donatella released her hold of the orchids, gave them a longing look and proceeded up the left side of the double helix staircase.
Once she reached the comfort and solitude of her bedroom, she sat on the edge of the bed and peeled off her Nisolo Heeled Chelsea Boots. She squared the shoes at the edge of the bed before repositioning herself in the middle of her bed where she sat cross legged with a firm straight back. She slowly closed the lids of her eyes and began to recount what started this feud, this hatred from Terri Buckley – The Smithville case.
Smithville – 4 years prior
The silence in the sedan was thick with anticipation and heavy with unanswered questions. The stiff breeze pounded on the exterior of the car rocking it slightly as if it was a bassinet. Donatella shifted her eyes to her partner who looked to be deep in thought. For the third time while leaving the FBI building, she wondered, what are we doing here?
Buckley turned her head, chin resting on her shoulder, eyes locked in a motionless bond with the hazelnut eyes of her partner. The two studied each other wordlessly until Buckley reached down to the center console, retrieved the binoculars and diverted her attention back to the window.
For this to be a high-powered operation, Donatella couldn't help but notice the obvious lack of security. There was a nagging feeling in the back of her head that something didn't add up. She continued looking at, glaring at her partner. She noticed how her muscles tensed and agitation radiated from every fiber of her being.
She prepared to break the silence when Buckley flung the door open, raced across the street toward the home of Aaron Smithville. Pushing the words back down her throat, she yanked her door open and sprinted after her partner. She was about to call out when she decided against it. Any such noise could bring attention to their approach and blow their cover. What cover they had left that is.
"What the hell is she thinking?" Donatella said out loud as she needed to utter some words for her ears to hear. She continued pumping her arms following Buckley around the back of the house. Although she considered herself to be relatively fast, Buckley was just a hair faster. In this particular instance she seemed to be moving faster than Donatella could remember.
By the time she turned the corner to the back of the house, Buckley was nowhere to be found. She stopped in her tracks and surveyed her surroundings. "Where did she go?" Foolishly, she did a 360-degree spin but soon logic hit. There is only one place she would have gone. She scrutinized Smithville’s house. Upon closer inspection she recognized a door flush against the wall with a barely perceptible handle.
How in the hell did she know this was here she pondered, placing her hand through the opening and pulling the door open.
Once inside, she unholstered her Sig Sauer P226 pistol and stalked down the dark corridor. She tuned her ears to pick up any ambient noises; however, the corridor was as quiet as it was dark. It took her eyes a few moments to adjust and once they did she could see the faint outline of stairs ascending roughly 20 paces in front of her.
Agent Dabria pushed past her fear of the unknown and quickly, but silently, climbed the stairs in an effort to ascertain the whereabouts of her now rogue partner. At the landing she was greeted with another door. Instinctively she knew Buckley had gone this way, yet the hairs at the nape of her neck stood signaling imminent danger.
She steadied her breathing, which surged with a rush of adrenaline, turned the handle of the door, and with a silent count of three, pushed the door open. Her gun snapped up, eye level, trained down the metal sights scanning for any adversarial movement. There was none. In fact, the hallway was empty. The hairs on her neck relaxed but her heart was still pounding.
The hallway, wide enough to accommodate two elephants standing side by side, nose to tail, was roughly 40 yards long. Although lights illuminated the corridor, visibility was still somewhat poor.
Donatella surveyed her surroundings and noticed that all of the doors were closed and eerily silent. Where are all of the guards and where is Buckley? She progressed down the hallway on the balls of her feet in an effort to reduce any noise she might make. She realized after taking a few steps forward that the awkward lighting worked to her advantage. There was only one door with light emanating from underneath it, the last one on the left.
Cautiously, but with
haste she moved toward the door. She could feel her heart pounding against her rib cage as a multitude of thoughts processed through her mind. This case was given to them from their superior, for a suspect she had never heard of prior to today. The manner in which Buckley had been acting. Her running out of vehicle, presumably into this building after the two of them agreed to survey the surroundings before making any move. The –
“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?”
The yell coming from the room at the end of the hallway forced Donatella to give up her stealthy approach. She took off in a sprint down the hallway, Sig Sauer poised in her right hand. Upon reaching the door she burst in gun raised, looking for any target.
What she saw gave her a moment of pause. Buckley stood, both arms extended, right hand on the grip of her pistol, left hand cradling the bottom. Buckley’s eyes didn’t move when Donatella burst into the room, but what Donatella saw behind those eyes is something she would never forget. The tinge of hurt mixed with the full fury of rage, and every intent of murder.
Agent Dabria quickly surveyed the room for occupants. Eyes still locked behind the sights of her weapon she looked to the right of the room – no one. She looked behind Buckley – no one. Entering the room and walking to her left Donatella began to survey the left side of the room – no one. She continued to circle to the left so that she could obtain a better view of the room and so she could also keep an eye on the door she had just come through. If there were any adversaries in the building, she didn’t want to have her back to them should they come lumbering down the hall ready to fire.
Laying on a sofa that was centered inside the room was the man she had seen in the file provided by Buckley, Aaron Smithville. His hair was disheveled, eyes semi-glazed over as if he had just awakened from sleep. He slowly began to sit up, hands raised and clarity forcing its way into his vision. He still had not noticed Donatella’s entrance into the room as he was completely focused on the figure in front of him holding the gun.
Once he was in a fully seated position, he blinked twice, and Donatella swore she saw a look of disbelief in his eyes instead of fear. Recognition drew over his features.
“Becky? Becky Lurtire?”
Becky, Donatella thought. Who in the hell is Becky? Gun still trained on the doorway, she chanced a glance over at her partner. Buckley stood there, fixed in place like granite. The involuntary blink of one’s eyes had not touched her face and her gun had not once wavered.
“What the hell are you doing in my house?”
In a flat, emotionless, calmly sadistic voice “I’m going to kill you.”
“You’re going to what?” Aaron replied with a grunt of laughter.
“I’m going to apply pressure with my index finger to the trigger of this gun, and I’m going to blow your fucking head off, you sick bastard!”
“Terri!” Donatella exclaimed finally finding her voice. “You cannot do that!”
The other two occupants in the room turned toward the sound of her voice, noticing her in the room for the first time.
“Who in the hell are you? Are you here to kill me too?” he asked with a sardonic grin.
“Terri, you cannot shoot this man! Holster your weapon. Please, Terri! Holster your weapon.”
“Becky, Terri, whatever your name is, I suggest you listen to the woman. Besides, you don’t have the guts to shoot me so do what she said and holster your weapon!”
Donatella noticed the slight shift in her partner’s finger as she started applying pressure to the trigger. She really was going to shoot him! In that split second, and without understanding why, Donatella turned her gun toward Buckley.
“Terri, this man is unarmed, you have broken into his house, and you are threatening to kill him in cold blood. You know I cannot let you do that. Please, put your gun away.”
“You don’t understand what this man has done! You don’t understand who he is!”
“Why don’t you put your gun away and we can talk about what he has done and who he is.”
Although Donatella spoke the words, she had a clear sense that Buckley had not heard any of them.
“When I was just 18 years old, a freshman at college, I met Aaron. He was the star point guard on the basketball team. At the time he was a junior who had ambitions of going to the NBA. Being a student of the university, we received discounts for season tickets to all sporting events and I attended each of the basketball games. There was a time I wanted to play basketball, but by the time I was a sophomore in high school it was clear I wasn’t cut out for it. Nonetheless, I still liked going to as many games as I could. To be honest I didn’t know much about the team, nor much about Aaron. I simply enjoyed the game and wanted to support the university team.
One day as I walked across campus leaving from my math lecture, there were a group of boys, men, coming from the opposite direction. I smiled and spoke, and they returned the gesture; however, one of the boys came hustling back.
“Excuse me. Excuse me, Miss.”
I realized the voice was talking to me, so I turned around.
“I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Yes, I have! I would never forget such a beautiful face.” He placed his forefinger across the bottom of his chin and squinted his eyes. “I know where I’ve seen you!” You sit in the student section directly behind the basket at the basketball games. Anytime I’m at the free throw line I look to see if you are still there. I don’t think you have missed any games!”
He introduced himself as Aaron and flashed that perfect smile. He asked if he could have my number and who was I to refuse. The star basketball player asking me for my number. Me, a freshman, being asked for my number by a guy who could have any woman on the campus. I gave him my number and to this day, I wish I never had!”
A tear that had been forming in the corner of her eye, pushed over her eyelid and rolled down her cheek leaving a trail of salty wetness that ended at her chin. Donatella could still see the pressure being applied to the trigger, but no additional pressure had been added. Terri continued to focus her intent glare on Aaron.
“A week later he called and asked if he could stop by my dorm room later that night. I agreed and told him my dorm and room number. When he knocked on the door, my heart skipped a few beats, but I managed to compose myself. I opened the door and there he stood again with his perfect smile. I let him in and noticed something that at the time I hadn’t paid much attention to – a red bow tied to the handle of the door.
As I shut the door and turned around, he had started to play a CD he put into my boombox. Naively, I asked him what he wanted to do. Did he want to just listen to some music or watch a little television. He responded, “You know why I’m here,” and walked over toward me, put his arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him.
I could taste the Crest coming off of his breath as he kissed me and put his tongue into my mouth. I pulled away, at least I attempted to pull away, and told him this is not what I wanted. He pulled me to him with more force, this time placing his other hand on my bottom while simultaneously putting his tongue back in my mouth. I tried to push him away –”
“You lying bitch!” he snarled breaking the monologue.
Buckley increased the pressure on the grip of her Sig Sauer as her knuckles that were already bulging pushed tighter against her skin thus losing more of the elasticity.
“This sorry piece of shit raped me, in my own room. In my own bed. To a soundtrack he brought specifically for the occasion. When he was done, he ejected the CD, opened the door and removed the red bow that was tied to the handle of my door. I later realized the red bow was a universal sign within the dorm that sexual activity was taking place in the room. It was meant for the roommate so they knew what could be happening behind the door and for them to enter at their own risk.
Little did he know; my roommate had gone home for the weekend. I lay in my bed motionless and crying for the next three hours. The silence i
n the room was maddening against the wails of my tears pouring into my pillows.”
“I never told anyone. Not one person”
“That’s because you are a lying bitch! That never happened!”
“I felt karma had caught up to Mr. Aaron Smithville as he shattered both knees and fractured his spine in a car accident a couple of days later. Although he was not paralyzed, he would never play basketball again and there went his dream of going to the NBA.
For years I thought this would be enough; however, about a year ago I was serious with a guy for the first time since this happened. When we prepared to make love, I froze, I screamed, and all of the memories and the pain came flooding back at once. I made him leave and cried into my pillows again for hours.
I could not live this way, and I would not live this way. Him losing his career was not enough for me. I needed,” another tear rolled down her cheek. “I needed for him to lose his life. Then and only then could I move on.”
“Terri,” Donatella said taking a step toward her partner. “We can arrest him, right here, right now, and make him pay for his crimes. If you kill him, you are throwing your life away. And you know I cannot let you kill him.”
“Donatella,” she said turning those brown eyes that were filled with murderous intent. “If I don’t kill him, I’m throwing my life away. You should understand that!”
There was a part of Donatella that understood where she was coming from, Donatella had every intention of killing the people responsible for killing her parents. Although she had never told this to anyone, she could tell that Terri sensed this about her. However, Aaron had not killed anyone. What he did he should be brought to trial for and be sentenced accordingly.
Terri slowly turned her head back to Aaron Smithville and for the first time since Donatella burst through the door, she saw Terri blink her eyes. It was a slow exaggerated blink, one that made Donatella think she had made up her mind – she was going to pull the trigger.
Hour of Reckoning (Donatella Book 2) Page 9
