Jack Ryder Mystery Series: Vol 1-3

by Willow Rose

  “Wait. There was something.” Brandon Bennett looked pensive. “There was someone there. Was it…I think it was.”

  “Who?”

  “Peter,” he said, looking directly at me. “Peter stopped by right before midnight. He was angry.”

  I found my notepad and my pen. Finally, something I could work with.

  “Who is Peter?”

  “That’s her brother. Her older brother.”

  “The writer’s son? Who grew up in her biological father’s house?”

  Brandon’s face cleared up. “Yes. He was the youngest of the three, and the only one we had any contact with.”

  Chapter Twenty

  September 1984

  “I’m pregnant and it’s yours.”

  Annie spoke with a quivering voice. She stood in front of Tim in the library, where she had finally found him and approached him. He hadn’t responded to her phone calls or her letters, nor had he stopped to talk with her when she approached him on campus. Finally, she had found him sitting in the reading chairs at the library with his friends. It had taken all of her courage to approach him like this, but it had to be done. It was the only way she could get him to listen. At first, she had asked him to step outside with her, told him she had something important and very private to tell him, but he had refused. Laughed to her face and refused.

  Now, his face froze in a smile and all his friends stared at her.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You heard me.”

  He lifted his pointer. “No, no. You have it all wrong, little missy.”

  “No, I don’t,” she said. “It’s yours. I’m five months pregnant.”

  Tim’s friends stared at him, waiting for his response. So did Annie. Her legs were shaking, threatening to give in to the rest of her body. She had never been this nervous in her life.

  Tim stared at her with big eyes, then shook his head. “I’m not falling for that. Who told you to say this, huh? Was it Chris, huh? Ha ha, Chris. Very funny. You can stop it now.”

  “It’s not a joke,” she said. “It happened that night by the lake.”

  Tim shook his head. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. I think you’ve got the wrong person.”

  Annie stepped forward. “You need to marry me.”

  The reading room went completely silent. No one was tapping their fingers, no one clearing their throat or coughing. And no one was reading anymore. All eyes were on them.

  Tim withered in his leather chair. He looked at her with serious eyes. She could see the fear in them. The fear of his life, as he knew it, being over. Of the anger of his parents. The fear of having to live with someone for the rest of his life that he didn’t love or even care for.

  Those few minutes of indecision finally mounted into a big smile, followed by loud laughter.

  “Marry you? Ha! That’s a good one. Very funny. Now get out of here before I make you.”

  “Tim, it’s the right thing to do. For the child’s sake. For my sake. My parents are going to renounce me. Without them, I have no money, I have nothing. This child will grow up in the gutter.”

  Tim scoffed. “What do I care? Don’t have the child, then. It’s not my child anyway. I wouldn’t touch that ugly body of yours, even if you paid me to.”

  Tim’s friends laughed.

  Annie felt her anger rise. Tears piled up in her eyes. “It is yours.”

  He leaned over in his chair. “How do you know?”

  “Because I haven’t been with anyone else but you…ever.” She knew it wasn’t the entire truth. They both knew. His friends had been there too that night. They had all raped her. It could be any of them. As they stared into each other’s eyes in a power struggle, they both knew she would never have a paternity test taken because that meant she would have to admit to having been with multiple men on that night. It was simply too shameful for her.

  “Get out of here,” Tim yelled. His face showed real anger now. His nostrils were flaring.

  Tears rolling across her cheeks, Annie backed up, frightened of what Tim and his friends might do to her if she stayed. When she reached the front door, she opened it and ran. She ran across campus as fast as she could, the sound of the blood rushing through her veins drowning out everything else. When she couldn’t run anymore, she threw herself on the grass, crying heavily, covering her eyes with her hands. Her stomach was in her way constantly now, and she loathed it more than ever. She loathed what had happened to her, and worst of all, she loathed this baby and what it was going to do to her life. Still, she couldn’t kill it. She could never do that.

  “What is to become of me?” she cried out, staring at the stars in the sky, wondering if there was a God and whether he could even hear her. It seemed like he didn’t these days.

  “I’ll take care of you,” a voice said.

  Annie turned her head with a small gasp and stared into the eyes of Victor. Victor was the campus’ biggest nerd. He was strange and awkward and all wrong. But he had always had a thing for Annie. Growing up in the same town and going to the same schools, he had adored her ever since he laid eyes on her for the first time in preschool. And he followed her everywhere. Even to the same college. But Annie couldn’t stand the guy. He was always clinging to her in high school, making life miserable for her because none of the cool kids wanted to hang out with her because of him. God, how she had hated him for many years. Even the way he smelled, or the way he said hi and pressed his glasses back on his forehead when he did. The way he dressed, the way his hair was always greasy and falling onto his forehead. In college, she had managed to keep him at a distance, but he still seemed to be everywhere she went. Had he followed her here? Had he heard what she had told Tim?

  He reached out his hand towards her.

  “I was in the library. I heard everything,” he said. “I’ll take care of you. That bastard doesn’t deserve you. I’ll marry you.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  January 2015

  Peter Walker lived in a modest two-bedroom condo in Cape Canaveral. I had called in advance and told him I would stop by to make sure he was home. He had the daytime off, he told me when he opened the door and let me in.

  “Where do you work?” I asked, as I closed the door behind me.

  The condo was a mess. Dogs and cats roamed the living room and were fighting as I entered. It smelled like a pet store.

  “At Ron Jon’s.”

  Ron Jon is the biggest surf store in the world, located in Cocoa Beach. It started as a surf shop, but had now evolved into just as much of a souvenir shop for tourists who come to see the store that is open twenty-four hours a day. It has become a landmark for the town and something people talk about. Tourists buy T-shirts with Ron Jon’s logo on them and walk around town wearing them. Stickers with their logos are on many of the cars, since they come with every purchase you make. It is a big and booming business, but also causes a struggle for the smaller surf shops around town. I never buy anything in there, since I have all my boards shaped by a local shaper to fit me perfectly. The shop is good for the town and the tourist industry, and they have nice boards, but to be honest, I prefer supporting the smaller local places. That’s just the way I am.

  “I work the nightshift,” he continued, as I sat down on his couch.

  “That’s a bummer,” I said, and took out my notepad and threw it on the table, then found my pen in my pocket.

  “So, what can I do for you, Officer?” he asked. “I understood it was about my sister, Laura?”

  I nodded, then flipped to a blank a page in my pad. “Yes. Your sister Laura. As you probably know by now, she was found killed yesterday morning at her house in Snug Harbor.”

  Peter sat down as well. “Yes. I heard. Any news about what happened to her?”

  I exhaled. “That depends. How well do you know her?”

  He shook his head. “She was only my half-sister. I didn’t know she existed until my father died.”

 
“So, it’s safe to say not very well?” I asked.

  “I hardly knew her at all, to be frank,” he said. “Even after we knew who she was, I never had the urge to get to know her, if you know what I mean. None of us wanted to know her.”

  “Why is that? Because she took your inheritance?”

  Peter leaned back in his recliner. “Well, yes. Can you blame me? Can you blame us for not wanting her in our lives? She took everything. Came from out of nowhere and took it all. Now, I have to live like this, and I have to work nights at a job I hate. I could have been living the life. I could have been rich.”

  “To be fair, it was your father’s money. He could have given it to a charity. He was entitled to do with the money as he pleased, don’t you think? Laura didn’t know her real dad growing up. Don’t you think it’s fair she got a little compensation for being lied to her entire life? After all, you and your sisters had everything growing up, didn’t you? She needed that fatherly love, from her real father,” I said, deliberately provoking him.

  Peter was moving in his seat. What I said struck a chord.

  “We had everything, you say? How about, we had nothing? We lived with a father who was never there. We grew up in a house with a father who was never home, and even if he was present, he wasn’t there mentally. He would stay in his office and write all his stupid stories about characters that he loved way more than he ever loved any of us. After our mother died, he kept dragging new and younger models home with him from book tours, or wherever he went. They would stay at the house for months and hang by the pool, drinking margaritas at ten in the morning, then he would throw them out once he was tired of them. We never saw him or felt his fatherly love either. None of us did. So, don’t come and say she was the one who needed the money the most. At least she grew up in a house with a mother and father that loved her. We didn’t. Our dad didn’t care about us at all.”

  Peter was spitting while he talked. I could tell I had upset him.

  “So, it is fair to say you’re pretty pissed at Laura, right? You and your sisters are all pretty angry with her?”

  Peter touched his hair and leaned back. He finally understood why I had come. He calmed down. “I didn’t kill her,” he said.

  “That didn’t sound convincing at all,” I said.

  “Well, it’s the truth.”

  “You were seen in the house,” I said. “Someone saw you there on the night she was killed.”

  Peter exhaled deeply. “I guess I knew you would somehow figure out I was there,” he said. “Well, okay. I was there. But I didn’t kill her.”

  “Convince me. Tell me you have an alibi for where you were between one and two in the morning,” I said.

  Peter swallowed hard. “I…I can’t. I was here. I was at home. I went to Laura’s house around eleven-thirty, but came back here at one.”

  “Why did you go to the house? Why were you there if it wasn’t to kill her for taking your birthright?”

  Peter thought for a long time. I could tell he was debating within himself. I saw that exact same expression on people’s faces constantly. He was definitely hiding something.

  “I went to ask for money,” he almost whispered.

  “What was that? Money? Why would she give you money?”

  “She gave me money now and then. To help me out.”

  I leaned back, feeling baffled. “Why? Why would she give you money if you didn’t know each other very well?”

  He shrugged. He reached over the table, grabbed a cigarette, and lit it. His hands were shaking. He was very nervous.

  “I guess she was trying to be nice to me. I am, after all, her brother.” He blew smoke in my face. I hated that smell.

  “So, you mean to tell me you came to her house right before midnight to get some money that she now and then gave to you as a gift?”

  Peter inhaled again. “Yes,” he said with a small smirk.

  “Do you find this funny?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Not really.”

  “So, she gave you money now and then. How much are we talking about?” I asked to get the conversation moving. I was already late to pick up Abigail and Austin. I had promised them I’d do it myself today. On top of that, I was starving. I hadn’t had any lunch. Not eating made me grumpy.

  “A couple of thousand. Once she gave me twenty.”

  “Twenty thousand dollars. She’s a nice sister, huh? Especially for someone you don’t know very well or care for.”

  “She was all right. Guess she felt bad for me.”

  “What about the others?” I asked.

  “What about them?” he said indifferently.

  He was starting to annoy me. He thought he was real clever now, trying to pretend he didn’t care. He knew I didn’t have any evidence to bring him up on yet. It was hardly enough just to have visited the house on the night of the murder.

  “Did they receive money like you did? Did Laura give them generous gifts as well?”

  Peter shook his head. “I have no idea.”

  “I guess you don’t know them very well either, huh?” I said and got up. I was tired of talking to this guy. It was getting me nowhere. I threw my card on the table before I left.

  “Call me in case you remember anything. And don’t leave town.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  January 2015

  Rhonda Harris glanced out the window one last time. The yellow police tape across the street was swaying in the wind. Two police cars were still parked outside in the front yard. A small minivan was parked in the driveway. She knew it belonged to the medical examiner’s office. They were taking samples, looking for fingerprints, searching the house for anything that could bring them closer to the killer. Rhonda knew the procedure. She had studied them and researched the police’s work for years. She had taken classes; she had been on patrol with the police, visited the medical examiner’s office, and read tons of books about forensic evidence. Yes, Rhonda Harris was a true expert when it came to police work, and that was what scared her.

  She knew they would eventually come for her. She knew it was a matter of days, maybe hours, before they would knock on her front door and confront her.

  It was a beautiful day out. As beautiful as they came in January in Cocoa Beach. She had always enjoyed winter far more than she did summer, she thought to herself. She loved the beach at this time of year and would take long walks there. Especially on cooler windier days like this one, when it was nice out, but a little too chilly to actually lie on the beach. Those were the days when the snowbirds and tourists went to the outlets and parks in Orlando or visited Ron Jon’s surf shop to get their T-shirts and key chains. Those were the days when she would have the beach all to herself.

  Rhonda looked at the cat on her desk next to her computer. He liked to sleep right next to her picture of her daughter and her husband, who lived up in New York now.

  What will they think? What will they think of me when they find out what I’ve done?

  The cat stretched and a pen fell to the floor. It rolled across the wooden floor and stopped close to Rhonda’s feet. She picked it up. Then she chuckled. The pen was one she had bought when visiting Hemingway’s house in the Keys ten years ago.

  Why did you do it, Rhonda? Why did you have to do that stupid thing?

  Rhonda shivered and forced herself to think about her daughter. She had found all the old photos and gone through them all morning, while tears streamed from her eyes. Pictures of Kate when she was just a child, then of the grandchildren from just a few years ago. So many good memories, so much love.

  We had a good run, didn’t we? We had fun.

  Rhonda sniffled again and wiped her nose on a tissue. Then, she looked at a picture of her belated husband. John had been everything to her.

  “I’m sorry for this, John,” she whispered. “I never meant for it to go this far. Life was hard after you left. I had nothing. This was my way out. But it ran off with me. I got greedy, I guess. I’m sorry.”
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  She looked at her husband and thought he looked back at her with contempt.

  Will they ever forgive me? They’re all gonna be angry, aren’t they? They’ll resent me for this.

  The cat purred in his sleep. Rhonda petted his head gently, wondering what was to become of him.

  “Hopefully, Kate and the kids will take you to New York with them once all this is over,” she said. “You’ll like it there. Take good care of the kids for me, will you?”

  Rhonda touched the cat’s fur again and stroked it gently. The cat purred and rolled to the side. He was still sleeping.

  How wonderful it must be to be a cat. Just sleep through everything. Not a care in the world.

  She had filled his bowls with water and food, in case it was a long time before they came. It probably wasn’t necessary, since they were just across the street and would come quickly when they heard the noise. She put the letter by John’s picture on her desk. She leaned over and kissed the cat, before opening the drawer and pulling out the gun.

  “I sure hope I’ll see you on the other side, John,” she whispered through tears.

  Without giving herself even a second to think about it twice, she put the cold gun against her temple and pulled the trigger.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  January 2015

  Abigail and Austin were in the front office when I arrived at the school. They were sitting in the chairs looking angrily at me when I entered through the glass doors.

  “I’m so, so sorry,” I said, feeling awful. “I lost track of time.”

  “That’s okay, Jack,” Elaine said from behind the counter. She smiled. “Everybody is late from time to time.”

  I turned and looked at the two angry faces. They got up, Abigail with a deep annoyed sigh. They walked to the car, giving me the cold shoulder.

  “Guys, I said I was sorry,” I said.

  “You promised you would be on time. School’s out at two-thirty, not three-thirty, Dad,” Abigail growled reproachfully.