“Norm, just—”
“What are you here for, Drake?” Norm asked, his patience wearing thin.
Drake reached into his pocket and pulled out the photograph he’d brought with him.
“I came here to give you this,” he said.
Norm met him halfway down the walk and took the photograph. He looked at it, confusion on his face.
It showed of Lisa talking with Robert, moments before they retreated to the broom closet to have sex.
“What is it?” Lisa asked.
She looked over her husband’s shoulder and her face immediately went red.
“You piece of shit,” she cursed at Drake. “You think—”
Drake had already made the signal and Robert was coming up behind him.
When Lisa saw the man, her face went from beet red to nearly purple. And when Robert spoke, it looked as if the woman’s head was going to explode.
“Lisa? Do you love me?” Robert asked.
Norm’s face was starting to redden now, too, as he began to put the pieces together.
“Lisa, tell me you love me!” Robert shouted.
Drake turned his back on the trio and walked back to his car. His goal hadn’t been to embarrass Norm, it had been to fuck Lisa the way she’d fucked Robert.
Drake got into his car and locked the doors.
Before he could drive off, however, Robert reappeared and knocked on the window.
“Open up,” he said. “Let me in—that bitch is going to kill me, man.”
Drake turned his gaze straight ahead.
“Naw, I don’t think so,” he said, just loudly enough for Robert to hear.
“What? Man—let me in. This isn’t part of the deal.”
Drake slowly started to drive.
“Wait—what the hell? How am I supposed to get home from here?”
“Ask your girlfriend for a ride,” he said.
Robert knocked on his window, hard this time, and Drake glared at him.
The man stepped back and threw up his arms. It was then that Drake noticed something on the passenger seat that hadn’t been there before.
A yellow envelope with his name written on the front in all capitals.
Whatever satisfaction he might have gotten from giving Lisa Duggar what she deserved quickly left Drake when he realized that there was a USB key inside the envelope.
Epilogue
“I stand before you today with a heavy heart,” District Attorney Mark Trumbo began, his hands clasped on either side of the podium. “Today, we mourn the deaths of six young women—six young women who had barely started their lives, before they were viciously taken from us: Marjorie Wilson, Janice Brookfield, Melissa Tanner, Jeanette Thomas, Frannie Dukes, and Andrea Marcus.” The DA, always posturing, paused for effect. “While there are no words that can ever comfort those who knew these young women, we must never-the-less applaud the work of the NYPD. Without them, there is no doubt that there would have been more lives lost.”
The DA bowed his head, signifying that he was done for the time being. Several of the members of the media who were present took this as an opportunity to ask questions.
“DA Trumbo, how did Donnie Duggar gain access to the gallery? The mall?”
Trumbo licked his lips.
“He stole the keys ahead of time. Listen, these were well-coordinated and orchestrated acts. Donnie Duggar went to these locations ahead of time and ensured that the security cameras were disconnected.”
As the media posed additional questions, Drake glanced at Screech. The man was, in turn, staring expectantly at Sergeant Yasiv who, along with Detective Dunbar, flanked the DA.
Drake lowered his head and fondled the USB key in his pocket with his broken hand, relishing the pain that moving his fingers caused him.
He hated himself for what he was about to do. But just one glance at the video on that USB, and he knew he had no choice.
I should have looked up. If I just looked up when I heard the creak on the stairs at the cabin, maybe things would be different.
Drake closed his eyes and saw Hanna. She was covered in blood, her back rising and falling as she struggled to catch her breath.
The machete was still in her hand.
Leave… you need to go. Just go, Hanna, go and keep on going. Don’t stop. Don’t call. Don’t write. Just go.
He’d failed her. Hanna had followed Drake down to Hell but unlike him, however, she was never coming back.
“Please, no more questions for now,” the DA said, holding his hands up. “But I feel inclined to reiterate that if it weren’t for the hard work of the NYPD, New York would have lost another young woman: Jenny Margolis. They saved her, and she’s here today because of them. Please put your hands together for Jenny Margolis.”
The DA turned and helped a frail young woman up to the podium. She was thin and pale but looked a hell of a lot better than she had when she’d been locked in a cage. And yet, the sight of her made Drake sick.
Not only was Trumbo using dead girls as a prop, but he was also using living victims, as well. At least she didn’t say anything—that would have been too much, even for Mark Trumbo. The girl just smiled weakly and waved.
“Thank you, Jenny. We all wish you a speedy recovery.” Drake fondled the USB key again as the DA looked at Yasiv, then turned his eyes straight ahead. “There are a few more people that we need to thank.” The luster was suddenly gone from his voice. “In addition to the NYPD, most of you know that due to the sensitive nature of this case, we had to recruit outside assistance.”
Beside him, Drake felt Screech and Leroy tense in anticipation.
This was their moment to shine. This call out from the soon-to-be mayor would ensure that DSLH’s financial troubles would finally be behind them.
Screech elbowed Drake playfully in the ribs, but he couldn’t meet his partner’s eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered under his breath.
In a booming voice, the DA said, “Mackenzie Hart and his team at Hart Investigator were instrumental in bringing Jenny home.”
“What the fuck?” Leroy gasped. “What in the actual fuck?”
The DA gestured to a solemn-looking Mackenzie Hart who appeared seemingly out of nowhere and waved to the crowd.
“Drake?” Screech said right into his ear.
Drake barely heard him; he was glaring at Mackenzie. Not only had the man followed him to the cabin, but he’d elected to videotape what transpired there instead of helping them. There was no doubt in Drake’s mind that the man would have let them die in order to obtain the video footage.
To gain the leverage he needed to finally screw Damien Drake.
“Drake,” Screech hissed and this time Drake heard loud and clear. “What the fuck have you done?”
***
The house wasn’t the same one that Hanna Whitmore had grown up in—far from it. When Robin had first tracked the place down, she’d had to triple check to make sure she hadn’t made a mistake.
Hanna’s parents had been rich, well-established in the upper echelon of New York society.
It appeared as if those days were long behind them.
This house was small, old, and in a part of town that most people would steer clear of after dark.
But Robin wasn’t afraid. She sat in her car, staring up at graffiti-covered bricks.
There was no wrought iron gate here, no intercom. Just cracked patio stones and a warped screen door.
She unzipped the small blue backpack on her lap and looked inside.
Hanna Whitmore’s driver’s license was there, as well as her unused bank cards that had long since expired. Robin looked at them for a while, before zipping the bag back up. Drake had told her to leave, that after what had happened at the cabin, she couldn’t show her face in New York City again.
But this was something she had to do before she left.
Robin got out of her vehicle and walked up to the door. She placed the bag on the ground and then rang
the bell.
“Hello? Hanna?” someone called from within, and Robin hurried back to her car.
The person who answered the door held a faint resemblance to Hanna, only she was older—much older. Heavy lids shrouded dark eyes.
The woman looked around, squinting into the late afternoon sun, clearly confused. Then she glanced down and for an instant, Robin thought the woman was going to have a heart attack. She sobbed once then picked up the bag and tore it open. As she pulled out Hanna’s license, Robin put the car into drive.
She allowed herself a single tear, before wiping it away and clenching her jaw.
What the Straw Man had done to her had changed Robin, but what she’d done to him had changed her again.
Robin would do what she had to, Robin would become who she had to become, because that’s what Robin did.
She survived.
Hanna Whitmore never had that chance, but Robin Powers did.
And she intended to use it.
The End
Author’s Note
What a wild ride. I’ve wanted to write a book that centered around Hanna (or Robin) for some time. In fact, I laid the groundwork for Straw Man years ago in a previous Drake book when I briefly mentioned her time in the cage.
But while this book features Robin, more than any other that I’ve written, its true focus is change—change driven by life altering events. I know some of you are going to shed a tear—myself included—over what happened to Robin and her subsequent departure. Trust me when I say that I didn’t want it to happen this way. I wanted Robin to stick around forever—hell, I didn’t want the DSLH team to ever disband. But it had to be this way. Robin needed to change and she couldn’t do that with Drake and company. Even the name of the book, Straw Man, hints at this fact.
But who knows? Maybe she’ll return one day. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve sent a character away only to have them weasel their way back into one my stories.
Whether that ends up being the case here or not, Robin, you will be missed.
You keep reading, I’ll keep writing.
Pat
Montreal, 2021
P.S. If you want to stay up to date or just have a good laugh, you can follow me on all the socials (Facebook, Instagram, and Tik Tok – all @authorpatricklogan).
P.P.S. You can also support your favorite series by grabbing a #thrillogan branded hat, notepad, sweatshirt, or mug! Just head on over to https://authorpatricklogan.live/merch.
Other Books by Patrick Logan
Detective Damien Drake
Butterfly Kisses
Cause of Death
Download Murder
Skeleton King
Human Traffic
Drug Lord: Part I
Drug Lord: Part II
Prized Fight
Almost Infamous
Straw Man
Dangerous Company
Chase Adams FBI Thrillers
Frozen Stiff
Shadow Suspect
Drawing Dead
Amber Alert
Georgina’s Story
Dirty Money
Devil’s Den
Painted Ladies
Adverse Effects
Already Dead
Direct Evidence
Dr. Beckett Campbell, Medical Examiner
Bitter End
Organ Donor
Injecting Faith
Surgical Precision
Do Not Resuscitate
Extracting Evil
Residence Evil (AKA Beckett’s First Kill)
Tommy Wilde Thrillers
One Wilde Night
Two Wilde Weeks
Three Wilde Months
Four Wilde Families
Penelope June Thrillers
Dying to Breathe
Dying to Speak
Veronica Shade Thrillers
The Color of Murder
The Scent of Murder
Want to support your favorite characters? DRAKE, CHASE, and BECKETT now have MERCH! Get everything from sweatshirts to mugs at: https://authorpatricklogan.live/merch
Don’t forget to drop by my Facebook group and say hi! https://www.facebook.com/groups/LogansInsatiableReaders/
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents in this book are either entirely imaginary or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or of places, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © Patrick Logan 2021
Interior design: © Patrick Logan 2021
All rights reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, cannot be reproduced, scanned, or disseminated in any print or electronic form.
First Edition: May 2021
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