Jack Ryder Mystery Series: Vol 1-3

by Willow Rose

  “What?” The way Sarah Millman blushed told me she knew exactly what I was talking about. I put the article from Wikipedia on the table in front of her.

  “That’s what you call yourselves, isn’t it? AM, Angel Makers. According to this article, The Angel Makers were a group of women living in the village of Nagyrév, Hungary, who, between 1914 and 1929 poisoned to death an estimated three hundred people, mostly abusive husbands and family members that had become a burden to them or to get hold of their inheritance. Others poisoned their lovers, some even their sons, as the midwife behind it all allegedly told the poisoners, Why put up with them? Is that how you and your sisters think? Why not just rid the world of these abusive people?”

  “You must admit, they do make a strong point,” she said.

  “I do. But this is 2015 America and we have a justice system that is supposed to handle these people.”

  “Maybe we do and maybe we don’t,” she said.

  “Who wrote the emails to Shannon King?” I asked. “Was it you?”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “No, it couldn’t have been you. You’re not the once with the conscience. It has to be one of the other sisters. I’m thinking Natalie. She sounds like she is more emotional. Except, of course, I don’t know much about the last two, do I?”

  “I don’t think you know much about anything, Detective,” she said with a smirk.

  I leaned back. It was getting annoying. I wasn’t getting her to say anything useful. Still, I kept trying.

  “So, Angela Harrison told Natalie about her father Joe and how he had beaten her once. Something not even her mother knew. But, a few weeks ago, Angela came to school crying and they sent her to see Natalie, to talk to her. She told her she missed her father, but that she was also afraid of him. I read the files that Natalie wrote. Am I right? That’s why Joe had to die, right?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” she said.

  “I get that one of you killed Britney Foster because she had seen Natalie in Publix here in Cocoa Beach and knew she possessed a threat to you, but what about Beth?” I asked.

  Sarah Millman looked at me indifferently.

  “Bethany Gruber, my partner? Why did she have to get hurt? At first, I thought it was just a coincidence, that you were trying to scare us off, to try and get us to back off, but then I went through Natalie’s files at the school and realized that Beth’s youngest daughter had problems too. The little girl told Natalie about how her mother drank, right? That was why you tried to kill her, wasn’t it? I just don't understand how you knew that Beth would be the one who would open the truck's door."

  "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Detective. However, maybe if someone was trying to kill that little partner of yours, they would have set the bomb up so that it would only go off if someone of her size tried to open the door. You know how short and pudgy she is, not like any of the other officers who would have been called to the scene. That's just a guess, of course; I don't even know whether such a thing is possible," she replied nonchalantly.

  "But it was all based on a lie. Beth doesn’t drink anymore; she’s been in AA for a year and is getting better. See, all I did was to talk a little to her neighbor, who told me everything. If you had done a little research, you would have made the same discovery. The file is two years old when everything went wrong at her household and Beth was drinking…right after her husband left her alone with three children. But, not everything is black and white. That’s why we need a justice system. That’s why vigilantism is a felony. Now, all I need for you is to tell me where your sisters are. They can explain the rest, but I need to find them. First of all, Natalie, I need to find her. Where is she?”

  “She’s gone, Detective.”

  “Where?”

  Sarah Millman shrugged. “Who knows? She left last night. Who knows where she might have gone to? Maybe it wasn’t just her, maybe it was all three of them that left. Who knows?”

  “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you. Why didn’t you leave?”

  “I have a son, remember? I can’t just leave.”

  I hit my fist on the table. Mrs. Millman hardly reacted. She was probably still doped.

  “Where did she go?” I yelled. “Where is Natalie Monahan?”

  Sarah Millman shook her head. “Sorry, Detective. There is no way I’m telling you this. You see, that would blow the entire thing, wouldn’t it? We’re going to be everywhere, keeping our eyes on you. We’ll be your lawyers, your child’s teacher, and your policewomen. We’ll be everywhere, making sure you behave. You should be thanking us. We’re doing society a favor. Do you have any idea how many prisoners on death row right now were beaten by their parents? How many were abused by the very same people that were supposed to protect them? It’s a disease. And it is passed down to the next generation. Chances are, if your daddy beat you, then you’ll do the same to your child, and so on. We are here to break that cycle. Lord knows, someone has to. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m not saying another word till my lawyer is here.”

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  March 2015

  I stopped by Shannon’s condo on my way home. I had picked the kids up from my parents’ place and told them to continue up in the elevator to our apartment with Emily while I checked on Shannon. I felt bad, since I hadn’t had any time for her in the past couple of days. At the same time, I felt exhausted after interrogating Sarah Millman all day and not getting much out of her. Her lawyer had arrived and told us everything his client had told us in the initial interviews couldn’t be used for anything, since he wasn’t present. He was one of those high-paid lawyers that you didn’t want to get up against.

  I was worried Sarah Millman would get away with everything. I wasn’t going to let her. I still had one more card to play, and I was going to do it the next day. Stanley Bradley would identify her in a line-up. If she had been involved in his kidnapping, he could tell me. Meanwhile, I had sent out all kinds of pictures of the three sisters to the media, letting them know we were searching for them, and especially for Natalie Monahan, who I believed to be the shooter at the cinema and at the festival. I also believed she was the one who shot Sheriff Ron before she escaped by boat. Richard had found out that she had been taking shooting lessons at a shooting range in Melbourne. They recognized her picture when he went down there and showed it to them. She had been going there for years.

  I rang the doorbell to Shannon’s place and waited. I wasn’t going to stay the night, since I had promised Emily I would watch The Tonight Show with her and I had promised Abigail and Austin that they could sleep in my bed with me, since they had missed me, and Abigail blamed me for never spending any time with them anymore. It was true, I guess, but I had a job to do, I told her.

  “You always say that,” she said. Then she gave me that look that I can’t refuse. She had a way with her daddy.

  There was a fumbling behind the door and it was opened. “Shannon?” I said, as her face appeared. My heart started racing when I tried to look into her eyes. She avoided looking directly at me.

  “Come on in,” she said, and walked to the living room, where she threw herself on the couch.

  I sat next to her with a sigh. “Why do you torture yourself like this?” I asked, trying to get her to look at me. “Where is Angela?”

  “Sleeping. I put her to bed early. She was getting on my nerves.”

  “You’re drunk,” I said. “Again.” I tried to hide how emotional I was, but my voice was breaking. So was my heart. I felt so bad for Angela that she had to see her mother like this. Shannon turned into this completely different person when she drank. She was aggressive and angry.

  “Do you even want to stop?” I asked.

  “I just took a little drink, alright? That’s all. Get off my back.” She snarled as she spoke. “It’s just this damn thing with the police.” Shannon closed her eyes. She was swaying. This wasn’t just the result of one or two drinks.

&
nbsp; I wondered where she got the alcohol from, but decided I didn’t even want to ask. There were many ways to get ahold of it. I felt betrayed, like she didn’t care about anyone but herself. I knew she was hurting from the case against her and the massive media coverage, but still. I needed her to be stronger. I needed her to want to be strong. An alcoholic would always find her drinks somewhere. It didn’t matter if we tried to keep her away from it; she needed to make the decision to stop. That was how my mother had explained it to me when I had spoken to her about Shannon’s drinking a few days ago. That was when I had thought I could simply keep her away from the alcohol and then she would get better. But now, I realized my mother was right. It wasn’t that easy. It was Shannon’s decision to make. I just knew I couldn’t watch as she drank herself into misery and dragged all the rest of us with her.

  Feeling all kinds of rage, I got up and walked to Angela’s bedroom.

  “Where are you going?” Shannon said.

  I opened the door and found Angela sitting on her bed, crying. Of course she wasn’t sleeping. “Come on,” I said and picked her up in my arms, still wrapped in her blanket. She put her arms around my neck while she cried helplessly.

  “You can’t just take her, Jack,” Shannon yelled. “She’s my daughter, Goddammit.”

  I walked towards the front door and stopped. I looked at Shannon. Her eyes were glassy and flickering back and forth.

  “She won’t be much longer if you keep this up,” I said, opened the door, and walked out. As the door shut behind me, Angela looked into my eyes.

  “Will she be alright? Will Mommy be alright?” she asked.

  I walked to the elevator and pushed the button, my blood pumping in my veins. “She’s a grown woman. She’ll be fine,” I said.

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  March 2015

  It took a long time for her to calm down, but finally, Angela fell asleep on the couch between Emily and me while we watched Jimmy Fallon talk to Madonna. She sang Holiday with Jimmy Fallon and The Roots. It amused me enough to be able to laugh and relax a little. Emily thought it was boring and called Madonna old. She still stayed for the rest of the show, though, and I enjoyed her company. I even managed to get her to talk a little about what was going on in her life and had her tell me she was doing a concert at the school next week, but also said that she didn’t want me there.

  “What? My daughter is playing a concert and I’m not allowed to be there?” I said.

  “Jack,” she said through gritted teeth. “I don’t want you there. It’ll be so embarrassing. You’re durpy.”

  “Excuse me? I’m not cool anymore? What happened? And what happened to daddy? You used to call me daddy?”

  Emily looked into my eyes and put a hand on my shoulder. “I love you, Jack, but you’re not my dad, and you are not very cool. I will kill you if you show up at my concert.”

  I looked at her, disappointed. “You really mean that?”

  “Yes.”

  “At least tell me what you’re doing. Are you playing an instrument?”

  “I’m not telling you.”

  I looked at Emily with a grin. “Then you know what I must do.”

  “Jack, don’t.”

  I lifted my hands in the air and yelled Tickle Monster before I attacked her and tickled her till she pleaded for me to stop.

  “Pleeease!”

  “Only if you tell me what you’re doing in the concert, and only if you call me dad.”

  “Alright, alright, I give up,” she said.

  I let her go and sat back down, laughing. She looked at me like she was mad, but I could tell she was about to laugh too.

  “So?”

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Okay what?”

  “Okay, Dad. I’m singing.”

  “Since when are you singing? You’re singing in the concert? Like, in a choir, or what?” I asked. I had never heard Emily sing one tune in her entire life.

  “No.” She rolled her eyes at me. “It’s just me.”

  My heart was about to melt. “You’re singing solo? And you’re telling me I can’t be there? That’s not fair!”

  Emily got up from the couch. “But that’s the way it’s going to be,” she said. “I’m too embarrassed about this to want you there. I told my music teacher I didn’t want to do it, but she said I had to. I hate it, so that’s why I don’t want you to see it. Now, it’s getting late, Dad. I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

  I looked after my grown daughter as she walked to her bedroom. I couldn’t believe how big she already was. She looked so much like her mother. I wondered if she ever thought about her. Of course she did. She had been six years old when her mother was killed. Lisa was born in the U.S., but her parents came from Bahamas. They moved to Florida before Lisa was born. I often wondered if she had any family over there. Maybe some cousins? I would have to take Emily there some time in search of her roots. It would do her good. She needed to know who she was and where she came from. Her grandparents were both dead now, but surely there had to be other family members?

  I grabbed Angela and carried her into the twins’ bedroom, where I put her in Abigail’s bed. I would make sure she made it to the bus the next morning. I would have to stop by Shannon’s to get her backpack, but she could borrow some clothes from Abigail. They were about the same size. I would have to pack her a lunchbox as well and a snack. I guessed Shannon hadn’t done any of it. I felt so angry with her for the way she behaved. I knew she was going through a tough time, but still. She had a child. She was responsible for another life.

  I stroked Angela’s hair, and then kissed her on her forehead, shut off the light, and left the room. I grabbed an apple and ate it while looking out the windows at the dark beach. I walked into the balcony and stood for a little while, listening to the waves. I hadn’t had the time to surf much the last week. The waves had been good; I had seen them on Facebook on several of my friend’s pictures that they’d posted. I felt like the ocean was mocking me, telling me to come catch some of my own. But this wasn’t the time. I had to finish my case first. I looked into the deep darkness and thought about the Bahamas. It was right out there, about three or four hours by boat. It was so close.

  So close.

  Chapter Eighty

  March 2015

  I boarded the airplane in Orlando. It was just me. I had made arrangements with a local officer to meet me at the airport in Nassau. It was late Tuesday afternoon. The trip was only one hour and fifteen minutes. I had no idea how long I was going to stay. When I was in the office this morning, I had told Richard to ask our Special Investigative Unit to help him try and trace the emails sent to Shannon once again. Richard had made profiles on all the sisters and found out that one of them, Angelina Monahan, worked in cyber-security. She helped protect big corporations against hackers. She would know exactly how to cover up the email’s origins. But one of the IP addresses that came up during their investigation was in the Bahamas, and I thought it was worth a try to look into it. So, I had called the local police in Nassau and had them tell me who owned the house with the address from which it originated. It belonged to an American company called Millman Technologies, they told me.

  I hadn’t talked to Shannon yet, but my mother had promised to take all of the kids. Emily would help her and my dad out, I told her. Angela wasn’t going home to her mother’s until I knew she was sober, and so far, she hadn’t even called me, so I assumed she was still on a bender. It hurt me like crazy to know she was hurting and there was nothing I could do to help.

  “Mr. Ryder?” a smiling man said in his singing English. He had one of those smiles that literally lit up his face.

  “Yes,” I said and shook his hand.

  “I’m Commissioner Ellis, The Royal Bahamas Police Force.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  Commissioner Ellis had a car waiting and we got in. I had told him we believed a person of interest was hiding in the house, and he had agreed to take me the
re. This was a high-profile case I told him, since it involved two mass shootings and a murder attempt on a sheriff.

  “The house is in Lyford Cay,” he said. “In Western New Providence. It is one of The Bahamas’ most desirable communities to live in. The biggest properties in the exclusive development sell for twenty million plus, and beachfront homes for ten million and up.”

  I whistled, impressed.

  “It is very exclusive, Mr. Ryder. Only for the über-rich. Gated, naturally. It has a par-72 golf course, twelve tennis courts, a full-service marina, dining facilities, a post office, a private international school, and a mile-long private beach. I do hope you have good reason for us to intrude on this place.”

  “I do,” I said, sincerely hoping I was right about this. I had spoken to Ron about it on the phone to get his permission to follow this lead. He had told me I needed clearance further up. I had spoken to the governor, and he had given me the green light for this. Everyone wanted to nail this shooter more than anything. As long as nothing went wrong, the governor told me.

  “Make sure nothing goes wrong, Ryder. This entire case makes me sick to my stomach.”

  I had promised that. It made me sick too. I hated how these sisters thought they had won this. Sarah Millman was still in our custody, but I had a feeling if I didn’t do something, then she wouldn’t stay for very long. Her lawyer was that good.

  The commissioner had brought along four officers. They were sitting in the small van, looking very serious under their beige hats with the red stripe. The weather was glorious; it was even hotter than Florida, the skies blue, the breeze warm. It wasn’t my first time here, but it still amazed me how clear the water was.

  “We’re entering the gated community now, the commissioner said, and looked at me with a serious look, like he wanted to make sure I still wanted to do this. I nodded and looked out as our car was let through the enormous gate and we entered Disney World for the richest in this world, the über-rich, as the commissioner called them, those that thought nothing of dropping a few hundred thousand at the roulette table, or even millions to buy an island. This was a completely different world. At least for me.