Jack Ryder Mystery Series: Vol 1-3

by Willow Rose

  “Oh yeah, Timmy is good. Doing great. A lawyer now. Hoping to make partner next year.”

  The stories got better and better every time. The picture he had created of his perfect son became more and more polished as the years passed.

  “Yes, he has two children now. The youngest is adorable. Cute as they get. Yes, it is too bad they live so far away and hardly ever have time to visit. It is a shame. But, what can you do? They got to live their own lives, you know?”

  Over and over again he would say things like that and Melanie would shake her head, but she would never correct him or tell on him. She would never embarrass him publicly. It was her way of loving him. He was grateful for that.

  Stanley sobbed in his bed, knowing that in a few minutes the crazy person holding him hostage would be back with enough food to feed a small African village for days. He wasn’t sure he could take more. It was all so…so miserable.

  It was while feeling sorry for himself that Stanley suddenly realized that maybe there was a God after all. Maybe he did hear him when he had cried out his pain and misery in the few moments he had been left alone during the day.

  His guardian had forgotten to lock the door. A gust of wind, or maybe it was the air from the AC as it started, now made it open just a little bit, just enough to let the smell of freedom slip inside.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  January 2009

  James had left them. When they returned home from the diner that morning on Elizabeth’s birthday, on Christmas Eve, he had packed his things and left them a note telling them he was gone and he wasn’t coming back. Dottie was devastated. She cried for days in despair, not knowing what to do next. How was she supposed to support four children and especially one that ate more than the rest of them put together? How?

  She asked James that when she called him a few days later, after she had finally gotten ahold of herself just enough to be able to speak to him.

  “How are we supposed to get by?”

  “I’ll send you money.”

  “What about us? What about the kids?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come home, James. We’ll talk. We’ll figure it out. Make some changes. Please, just come home.”

  “I’ve met someone else.”

  The words hit her like arrows to her chest. “Someone else…but…James?”

  “We’re moving in together. There’s nothing you can do about it, Dottie. I’m done. It’s over.”

  “You can’t just leave me?”

  “I just did.”

  Then, he had hung up and left Dottie to sob in self-pity for weeks afterwards. He had kept his word and sent her money every week, but it was barely enough to keep Elizabeth satisfied. The rest of them had to eat too. Dottie knew she had to get a job. She found one as a waitress at Denny’s and that kept them going for a little while. But it meant a lot of changes for the family, and especially for Elizabeth, who had to go to aftercare at the school, and she didn’t take any of the changes well. It was hard enough for her in school, where she was constantly teased about her size, and where she couldn’t eat until she was allowed to. But to have to stay at the school’s aftercare for three more hours every day was crushing for her. Every day, when Dottie brought her home after a long day at work, she would scream and cry, and the only way Dottie knew to calm her down was to give her food. So, she started bringing home leftovers from the diner, and as long as Elizabeth got those, she kept quiet. It didn’t help with her rapid weight gain, but Dottie didn’t quite see any other way. She simply couldn’t deal with it on top of everything else.

  At Elizabeth’s annual check-up in January, her doctor looked at Dottie with a deep sigh.

  “I know she has gained a lot again, Doctor,” Dottie said. “I just can’t control it. I’ve tried everything. I don’t know what to do. James tells me to discipline her more, to help her get better self-control, but I don’t know how to. I guess I have given up.”

  The doctor leaned back in his chair and looked at Dottie. “I have come upon something that you might find interesting,” he said, much to Dottie’s surprise. She was certain she was in for another of his scoldings, which she usually got when visiting with Elizabeth.

  “You what?” she asked.

  “I think I might know what is wrong with Elizabeth. I read an article about it recently and it just hit me. This is what is happening to Elizabeth West, I said to myself. This is what’s wrong with her.”

  “So, what is it?” Dottie asked, her heart racing. Was there an explanation for her daughter’s condition? Was Dottie really not the one responsible for this?

  “It’s called Prader-Willi Syndrome,” he said and leaned forward. “It’s a rare genetic disorder in which seven genes on chromosome 15 are deleted or unexpressed on the paternal chromosome.”

  “I don’t think I follow you, Doctor.”

  “She was born with it,” he said. “It’s a rare chromosomal abnormality. It causes low muscle tone and impairs signaling between the brain and the stomach. There is no sensation of satiety that tells them to stop eating or alerts their body to throw up when they have eaten too much. Elizabeth feels like she is starving constantly because her brain tells her she is. Patients describe the hunger as a physical pain. To make matters worse, it also causes an especially slow metabolism, predisposing Elizabeth to morbid obesity. Most die from obesity-related diseases later on in life, many from choking because they swallow their food too fast. She does not know when to stop eating. You’ll have to keep an eye on her constantly. Food can be a death sentence for patients like her.”

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  March 2015

  Travis Goodman wasn’t talking. Even after days in jail, he wouldn’t say anything. He simply refused to speak a word to any of us. Told us we were all after him, that no matter what he said, he would only harm himself. He knew that much. He wasn’t that stupid. Then he started raging on about some conspiracy theory that he had read online about how the police were being run by the blacks and how they had infiltrated the government and put Obama in post. Then he went on to tell me about The Third Reich, about some Nazi leader who was believed to be dead, but allegedly had never died, and was building his empire underground and he knew about how the blacks were planning on taking over the U.S. as a revenge for their slavery.

  I stopped listening after a few minutes and knew I would never get anything useful out of him. He couldn’t afford a lawyer, so the court appointed one to him. The judge was on our side. He didn’t make bail. The guy was suspected of having put an officer in coma and shot into the crowd at the country festival. There was no judge who would let him out, which was good for me. I had time to build his case.

  But it wasn’t easy. All we had was the truck. His truck that had been blown up in front of his home. His wife, Jennifer, claimed Travis took the truck with him when he moved out of the house. Travis said it had been stolen from his sister’s house. There were no reports on the vehicle being stolen anywhere.

  Beth was still in a coma, and the doctors feared she would remain that way. They still couldn’t tell us if she would get better or not. I feared the worst. I was so mad at this situation. It reminded me of the time with my old partner in Miami, Lisa, who had been killed in the line of duty when I should have protected her. I had taken in her daughter Emily and loved her like my own. I wasn’t going to stand and watch while three other children were made orphans. The least I could do was to get justice. I had never found the shooter down in Miami and it haunted me like crazy. This wasn’t going to end that way. I was determined to find evidence to put this guy away for the rest of his life. And then some.

  The weekend came and Shannon still stayed in her condo, behind closed shutters, while the media speculated about her involvement in the disappearance of Robert Hill. I think she had managed to stay sober. I had removed all alcohol from the condo, and since I was the one shopping for her, she couldn’t get ahold of any more. I felt like a prison guard, but if that w
as the way it had to be to make her well again, then so be it.

  The police in Nashville hadn’t found the body of Robert Hill yet, to her luck, and so far no charges had been made. We were still holding our breath. On Saturday, she told them everything. I had convinced her it was the only way to get through this properly. They were using radars on the backyard of the house, and if they had buried a body there, it was going to be found sooner or later. I asked them to send a guy down, and he took her entire statement. I told her to use the word self-defense as often as possible, and so she did. With her lawyer at her side, she told him she didn’t know where the body was buried, since Joe had taken care of it. But it was somewhere in the backyard. As she spoke to the detective from Nashville PD, I suddenly thought of something.

  “Where is the gun?” I asked.

  “What gun?”

  “You said Robert had a gun. He was threatening you with it when you hit him with the microphone stand. Where is the gun now?”

  Shannon shrugged. “I don’t know. Joe must have gotten rid of it somehow. I never saw it again.”

  “Maybe he buried it with the body?” I asked.

  “That’s definitely a possibility,” she said.

  The Nashville detective nodded, satisfied. “If that is what happened, then that certainly speaks for your case. We find the gun and it has Robert Hill’s fingerprints on it, then we know you’re telling the truth, Mrs. King.”

  All we had to do was to find the smoking gun.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  March 2015

  “Early bird gets the worm,” was Allan MacGill’s favorite saying. And, unlike everyone else in his family, he lived by it. Especially on Sunday mornings when he didn’t have to go to work, but could spend the day fishing from the jetty in Cape Canaveral. It was his favorite time of the week. When everyone else in his family went to church at ten, he could be found leaning against the railing at the end of the pier with his fishing line in the water, enjoying God’s true church…His creations.

  Allan grabbed his bucket and fishing pole from the back of his truck and started walking from the parking lot to the jetty. It was quite a walk, but he enjoyed every moment of it. The freshness in the air before sunrise was indescribable. It had to be experienced.

  Allan greeted the other early fishers who were setting up their poles at the jetty, then found a spot by the railing where he could put up his. He took in a deep breath and enjoyed the quiet. In a few hours, it would be spoiled by the many boats coming out of Cape Canaveral Port. Worst were the cruise ships at the end of the day. All those people standing on the deck waving at the people on the pier…the big awful ships with all their waterslides and smell of grease and fried food they brought with them. Boy, how he loathed those. They all left on Sunday afternoon and scared away all the fish. He would usually try and leave before that.

  Last Sunday, Allan had lucked out. It had been his best fishing day ever. He had hauled in a bonnet-head…a big bonnet-head shark, at least two feet long. It had been quite the crowd-puller. He had brought it home and cut the meat out and prepared it as steaks on the grill, then invited the neighbors over for a feast and use of bragging rights. It had been perfect. They had all loved it. Allan knew he probably wouldn’t be able to do it again, but he was hoping for something as spectacular today as well. He had only one week left on the Space Coast before they went back to Boston, where they lived the rest of the year. Usually, they stayed in Florida for three months of the year. The three best months of Allan’s year. He wished they could stay all year around, but his wife, Angie, wouldn’t hear of it.

  “I get grumpy when it’s hot,” she always argued. “And you don’t want me grumpy, do you?”

  She was right about that. He certainly didn’t want her to be grumpier than she already was. No reason for that.

  So, Allan had to settle for three months out of the year. And he loved every minute of it. He was already looking forward to January next year. Allan lifted the pole and swung the line through the air and into the canal. He was hoping to see a few dolphins as they swam by, like he usually did here at sunrise.

  The sun was peeking over the horizon now and Allan closed his eyes and enjoyed the rays of sun hitting his face. He wasn’t looking forward to going back up north to the cold again. Life up there simply wasn’t as pleasant as it was down here. This was Allan’s small slice of paradise. At least it had been, until this day when his fishing line suddenly tightened and Allan sprang for it to reel in whatever he had caught.

  Maybe it’s another bonnet-head. It sure is heavy! Maybe it’s even bigger than the last time?

  As Allan tried to pull the fish in, he became aware of his own weakness and started worrying he might lose his catch. He called for the other fishermen to help. Soon, there were three big heavy men reeling the fish in.

  “This is huge!” one of them said with a groan.

  Allan smiled, thinking it would be the perfect way to end the season…with the biggest catch of his life. Allan couldn’t stop smiling until they pulled again and something came into sight above the wooden railing.

  It almost sounded like it was planned, like it had been rehearsed, when all three fishermen gasped in unison at the sight of the long blonde hair.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  March 2015

  I got the call when I was sitting on the deck of my parents’ motel eating breakfast. Shannon still didn’t want to leave the condo, so it was just me and the kids. Well, except for Emily, who wanted to sleep in, and, as usual, wasn’t hungry. Shannon’s sister Kristi had told me she was coming over today to spend time with Shannon and Angela. She had helped out a lot, keeping an eye on Shannon for me when I had to work or couldn’t be with her for some other reason.

  “Did not,” Austin said.

  “You did too,” Abigail said.

  “No, I didn’t,” Austin said.

  “Daaad. Austin’s lying,” Abigail said.

  I sighed with a smile and sipped my coffee. I looked at my beautiful twins. No one could hate each other and no one could love each other as much as those two. Now Austin pulled Abigail’s ponytail and she let out a wail.

  “Hey, you two,” my mom said as she brought out more waffles. She looked at me. “You’re just going to let them act like this?”

  I chuckled. “They’ll figure it out,” I said, finishing my coffee.

  My mom scoffed. “You’re too weak, Jack. You need to be harder on them.”

  I looked at her. No one spoiled those kids more than she did. She was the last person to say anything. Yet she still was on my case constantly about how I brought them up. I guess she was just worried, since they didn’t have a mother, and in her opinion, a mother was by far the most important person in a child’s life. I hoped to prove her wrong. I had to believe that a dad could do this alone.

  My phone was ringing in my pocket and I got up to take it, kissed my mom on the cheek, and went inside.

  “Ryder.”

  “Ron here. Sorry to disturb you on a Sunday, but we just pulled a corpse out of the canal in Cape Canaveral.”

  I looked at my family sitting on the deck in the sunlight. I had hoped to spend the day with them for once. The twins had been on my case lately for not being home enough. Even though they loved their grandparents, they still needed to spend time with their dad. At least, that’s how Abigail explained it to me. I missed them too. I missed hanging out with them and with my parents as well. I wasn’t going to have them around forever. Chances were it was a suicide, a jumper form one of the cruise ships, or a drunkard who fell in last night. It didn’t sound like it was my field. Still, I had to be there. Any suspicious death was my area. Sunday or no Sunday.

  “I’ll be right there,” I said.

  I hung up and looked at my beautiful family. Abigail stuck her tongue out at her brother. Austin made an ugly face at her in return. I chuckled when Abigail’s eyes met mine. I approached them.

  “Not again?” she said, reading my face.<
br />
  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Duty calls. You know how it is. It’s my job…”

  “To catch the bad guys, yes, I know,” she said with an angry frown. She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You promised you’d take me surfing. I wanted to show you how much I have learned at camp.”

  I sighed. “I know, sweetie. Believe me, I would much rather be out in the water surfing with you than going to Cape Canaveral, but I have to.”

  “And what about Austin?” she said, pointing at her brother. “You promised you would go fishing with him. You know how much he loves to fish.”

  I looked at Austin, who avoided my eyes. He never was one to complain. Abigail did that for him.

  “I’m sorry, buddy,” I said. “Maybe grandpa can help you set the poles up? He’s an excellent fisherman, you know.”

  “I know,” Austin said. He forced a smile, trying hard to not let me know how sad he was. I could see it on his face he was disappointed. Sunday was our day together as a family.

  “He never spends any time alone with you, Dad,” Abigail said. “He needs a father figure. You’re his role model.”

  I looked at my six year-old daughter. Where did she learn stuff like that?

  “It’s okay,” Austin said and patted me on my arm.

  “Just go, Jack,” my mom said. “We’ll take care of it.”

  I felt awful leaving them all like this. I had promised to fix the sink in one of the rooms at the motel and to paint the upstairs deck as well. There simply weren’t enough hours in the day to make everybody happy.

  Chapter Sixty

  March 2015

  “So, what do we have?” I asked Ron, as I parked the Jeep at the jetty and walked with him towards the scene. The area had been blocked and a huge crowd of spectators had gathered behind the police tape. It was Sunday, usually the busiest day for the park and the jetty. There was a camping area right out to the canals and a big playground with a picnic area where people grilled and spent their Sunday afternoon with their families.