Deserted
Page 1
Deserted
by
E. H. Reinhard
Copyright © 2016
All Rights Reserved
AUTHOR’S NOTE
This book is a work of fiction by E. H. Reinhard. Names, characters, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Locations used vary from real streets, locations, and public buildings to fictitious residences and businesses.
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Deserted: An Agent Hank Rawlings FBI Thriller, Book 6
Bodies, strangled and dumped along the interstate, send Agent Hank Rawlings and the rest of his team to Texas. The method of homicide, as well as the locations where the bodies are found, are identical to those from a six-year-old investigation.
When the wheels touch down in Dallas, the team is greeted with another body and a possible eyewitness. They quickly put together a suspect profile, a profile that leaves the agents with more questions than answers.
Little does Hank, or anyone else at the Bureau, know the true level of savagery of those they seek. When the evidence puts the two sides face to face, nothing will ever be clearer.
See the entire Hank Rawlings Series at:
http://ehreinhard.com/available-books/
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Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE - Kerry
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR - Kerry
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN - Kerry
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN - Kerry
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - Silas
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Silas
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN - Silas
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - Silas
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - Kitty
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - Silas
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY - Kitty
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO - Kerry
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR - Kerry
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER ONE
Kerry
With a hiss of its brakes, the rig lurched to a stop along the side of the two-lane road. Kerry Levy glanced in the driver’s side mirror of the eighteen-wheeler. She saw no headlights. Looking up the stretch of Texas road, she saw nothing but stars meeting the road on the horizon. Kerry lowered the passenger-side window, flipped on the interior lights, and glanced at the drawn shades of the sleeper at her back.
The sound of feet crunching in the gravel of the road’s shoulder grew in volume. A moment later, she heard a foot clack against the stainless-steel step outside the passenger door, and a man poked his head in the open window.
“Hey, thanks for stop—” The man cut his sentence short and stared in at Kerry. “Sorry. Just a little surprised. I can’t say you were quite what I was expecting to be behind the wheel.”
Kerry smiled. “What were you expecting? A big dirty trucker?”
The man showed her a grin. “Something like that. Thanks for stopping, though.”
“Sure. No problem. Where are you headed?”
Kerry took the man in: unshaven, long straggly hair, and a thin face. A blue tie-dyed shirt poked out from the neck area of the guy’s dirty brown jacket. She put the man somewhere in his midthirties. He looked as though he’d been outdoors for a bit.
“West as far as you can take me,” he said. “Hitching all the way to California if the good Lord allows.”
Kerry figured the man’s mention of the good Lord was the guy’s pitch of trust. “Well, I’m headed towards El Paso. I can get you that far. I can’t say I normally stop for folks along the side of the road, but I took a chance on you, so don’t make me regret that decision.”
“No worries about me,” he said. “And El Paso would be great. Um, I don’t really have any money to give you for the lift, though.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Kerry said. “Hop in. Is it just you?”
The man pulled open the door, took the tattered bag from his back and took a seat. He set the backpack at his feet and swung the door closed. “Just me.” He ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair and let out a long breath. “You don’t understand how glad I am that you came along. I’ve only seen a handful of cars over the last hour or so, none of which seemed real eager to make a stop for a long-haired guy in the middle of the night.”
“People don’t trust the good nature of others these days. You have to be careful, though. There’s a lot of weirdos floating around out in this world.”
“Yeah, well, I appreciate you making the stop. I’ve been walking all day. Honestly, I have no idea how the heck I ended up way out here. The name’s Tim.” The guy reached across the cab of the truck and extended his hand toward Kerry.
“I’m Kerry. Nice to meet you.” She looked at the guy’s dirty hand and shook it with a weak grip. Kerry put the truck in gear, pulled back onto the road, and clicked off the truck’s interior lights.
Silence overtook the truck for a few miles.
“There’s a couple of waters in the cooler by your leg there. A bag of gummy bears there in the cup holder,” Kerry said.
“I think I’m okay for now. Thanks for the offer, though.”
“So what’s out in California?” Kerry asked.
“A change of scenery.”
“That’s it?” Kerry asked.
“Well, I guess I just got tired of it all, you know. Same routine every day—get up, get ready, go and work for someone for five of your seven days a week just so you can give the money away to keep a roof over your head and a car in your driveway. Then just start it up again the next week. No way to live, really—worrying about money every day. It’s never-ending. I just wanted out. Off the grid. I let my lease lapse, sold just about everything I had, let the bank have my car, and packed a bag. I figured I would put one foot in front of the other and see where the world took me.”
Kerry scratched at her thigh where her tiny shorts ended. She caught her passenger watching her do it from the corner of her eye. “You sound like my older sister. She has that whole antiestablishment thing going on.”
“I don’t know if I’m antiestablishment. I just don’t like the confines of a normal life.”
“Preaching to the choir,” Kerry said. “Where did you start your trip?”
“A little no-name town in Tennessee.”
“Just left it all behind, huh?”
“I guess.”
She stared through the truck’s windshield at nothing but the darkness and open road befor
e them. “How long have you been on the road?”
“Just a week or so.”
His dirty clothing, his tattered bag, and the stink coming off him told Kerry he was lying.
“Sure,” Kerry said. “Are you hungry?”
“I could probably eat, sure.”
“Well, we’re going to have to make a fuel stop in about a half hour or so. I figure we’ll work our way back over toward the freeway. Maybe fuel up at a place with a diner and grab a bite to eat.”
“Sure,” Tim said. “So, how old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Twenty-three.”
“Well, I have to ask. How does a twenty-three-year-old female decide to drive a truck?”
“Family business,” Kerry said. “My sister and I took it over. Dad taught us how to drive an eighteen-wheeler when we were in our teens.”
“Ah, that makes sense. Sister, huh? How old? I have one who is younger.”
“Twenty-three as well. Older by a couple of minutes. Twins.”
“Really?” Tim asked.
“Yup. You want to meet her? Kitty,” Kerry called, not waiting for the man’s response. She reached out and flipped on the truck’s interior lighting.
The curtain separating the sleeper from the front part of the truck’s cabin ripped open. A woman wearing a white tank top popped her head and shoulders through the gap in the curtains. She took a long, black-painted fingernail and pulled the straight black hair from over the side of her face. Her black-lipsticked mouth spread into a smile. She put her head right next to Tim’s, just inches away.
“Hi, I’m Kitty. You’ll remember my name because of my tattoo.” She craned her neck and pointed to a small cat-face tattoo with x-ed out eyes on her collar bone. “What’s your name?”
“Um.” the guy paused.
“It’s Tim,” Kerry said.
The guy cleared his throat. “Tim Albright.”
“Hi, Tim,” Kitty said.
“Hi,” he said.
“I like your hair.” Kitty reached across her body with her left hand, ran her fingertips into the top of the man’s dirty hair, and mussed it about.
Tim pulled his head back but gave Kitty a smile.
“You’re cute,” Kitty said. She left the sleeper of the truck, shimmied between the passenger-side dash and Tim’s bag and sat on Tim’s lap. She leaned back into him.
Kerry stared over at Tim—his eyes were focused downward on either Kitty’s chest or her legs coming from her little shorts. Tim looked up quickly and back over at Kerry.
Kerry caught the look of confusion on the man’s face and went back to staring out the windshield. “So what do you think of my sister, Tim?” she asked.
Tim didn’t respond but focused on Kitty, seated on top of him. “Did you want me to scoot over so you could sit?” He tried to give Kitty room.
“Stay,” Kitty said. “You’re fine just like you are. Here.” She placed the man’s dirty hand on the studded black leather belt around her waist. “You’re not married are you, Tim?”
“No.”
“Girlfriend?”
“No, um, I’m single,” he said.
“Do you want a girlfriend?” Kitty asked. “Even if it’s just for a little bit?”
Kitty lifted herself from his lap, turned around, and straddled Tim. She took his hands and placed them on her thighs as she scooted herself up his lap. Kitty ran both of her hands along the sides of his head, through his hair.
“Is that a yes or a no?” Kitty asked.
He didn’t respond.
“Don’t you like me?” Kitty asked.
The man still said nothing.
“Well, do you or not?” Kitty asked.
“What is this?” he asked. “Am I on some kind of hidden-camera show or something?”
Kitty laughed. “Nope. You’re the luckiest guy on the planet, is what you are. Right place at the right time.”
“Apparently,” he said.
“Well, are you just going to leave her hanging?” Kerry asked. “You have a hot girl on your lap asking if you like her, and you still haven’t answered. Tick tock.”
“I don’t think he likes us,” Kitty said. “Talk about blowing it.”
Tim’s hands took Kitty by the waist.
“I like you,” he said.
“Well, what about me?” Kerry asked. “If you like her, you have to like me as well.” Kerry ran one finger from her knee up to her thigh.
Tim looked over at her and gave her a smile. “I like you both.”
Kerry pulled the truck to the shoulder of the road and killed the motor. She rose from the driver’s seat and reached out for Tim’s hand. He took it, and Kitty rose from Tim’s lap. Kerry walked through the sleeper, holding Tim’s hand. She glanced back to see his other hand holding Kitty’s, who was following.
“Sit,” Kitty said.
Tim took a seat on the edge of the bed while the two girls stood side by side. Kerry looked at Kitty, smiled, and stepped onto the bed. She made her way behind Tim and knelt directly behind him. Kitty stepped directly in front of Tim and straddled him once again. Tim tried bringing Kitty in for a kiss—she pulled back.
“We have a certain way we like to do this,” Kitty said.
“Give me your hand,” Kerry said.
Tim put his left hand behind his back and ran it up Kerry’s leg.
Kerry pulled a pair of cuffs from the shelf on the back wall, wrapped the handcuff around his left wrist, and clicked it down.
Tim yanked his arm back before him. “What the hell is this?” he asked looking at the fuzzy pink cuff dangling off his wrist.
Kerry leaned around him, over his shoulder, and whispered into his ear, “Trust me. This is going to be the best time you ever had. Just go along with it.” She reached around Tim and brought his left hand back behind him with the cuff. She reached around with her right hand, took his, and then brought it behind his back. She linked the other cuff around his right wrist digging her fingernails into the flesh of his forearm as she did.
Kerry looked at her sister Kitty, sitting on Tim’s lap, who smiled and nodded.
“Here comes the fun part, Tim,” Kitty said. “Just watch me.” Kitty held him by the chin so he faced her.
Kerry leaned back across the bed and grabbed a coiled three-foot section of rope from the shelf. Kitty took her hands from Tim’s face and Kerry looped the rope around Tim’s neck in a single motion. Kerry jammed her knee into Tim’s back and yanked.
Kitty giggled as she scooted herself up his lap until her bare midsection touched his. Tim kicked his legs and jerked his body in an attempt to get Kitty off his lap. His flailing feet got caught in the curtain separating the sleeper from the cab, and the right side pulled down.
Kitty pulled Tim’s head toward her to increase the pressure of the rope around his throat. She buried the man’s face in her chest. Kitty peered over Tim at Kerry, pulling against the rope.
“Pull harder,” Kitty said.
“You pull harder,” Kerry said. “Make me drive while you flirt.”
Tim jerked his entire body—almost sending Kitty flying. She kneed him in the side as hard as she could and centered herself back on his lap.
“Whatever. You know people like me better. It’s easier that way.”
“They like you because they can spot a tramp,” Kerry said.
“Don’t call me a tramp, bitch!”
“Just keep pulling.”
Kerry felt a tug against the rope as Kitty yanked Tim’s head further into her cleavage. Kerry pulled back harder, jamming her knee deeper into Tim’s back.
“Why do you have to say things like that to me?” Kitty asked.
“Whatever,” Kerry said. “Is he dead yet? My arms are getting tired, and this guy stinks.”
“No, he’s not dead yet,” Kitty said. “Keep pulling. At least you don’t have his dirty face in your chest.”
Tim’s fighting stopped, but the girls held their positions. A couple minute
s passed without a sign of movement from Tim.
“Are you going to apologize for calling me a tramp?” Kitty asked.
“Why would I apologize for calling it like I see it?”
“You’re so mean.”
“God, you take everything so seriously. Is he dead, or what?” Kerry asked.
“Let me check,” Kitty took her hands from the back of Tim’s head. “Now you can have that kiss.” She took Tim by the cheeks, leaned toward him, and stuck her tongue in his open mouth—finishing her ten-second kiss with a smack of her lips. She pulled back from the kiss and ran her tongue around the corners of her mouth. “Yup, he’s dead.”
Kerry released her hold on the rope. “What’s wrong with you? That’s so gross,” she said.
“What’s gross?” Kitty asked.
“You making out with them after they’re dead.”
“I’ve seen you do worse,” Kitty said. “Remember when I walked in on—”
“Okay, forget it,” Kerry interrupted. “I’ll check his pockets. You go through his bag.”
Kitty left Kerry with Tim’s body in the back and went into the cab of the truck to rummage through the bag.
Kerry fished her hands into Tim’s pockets and found a large folding knife in the front right. She pulled out the knife and flicked it open, noticing what looked like blood on the blade. She smirked, tossed it on the bed, and rolled his body to check his back pockets. Kerry took his wallet from his back pocket and flipped it open, going straight for the money. She ran her finger across the tops of the bills as she counted—about six hundred dollars.
“No money for the lift, huh?” she said.
She held the wallet up before her and stared at the ID in the clear-plastic center section.
“James D. Washington. That sounds fake.” Kerry slipped her fingers into the plastic to pull the driver’s license out—she found two additional ones behind it, with two different names. Each of the photos appeared to be the man who’d said his name was Tim.