Unforgiven: A Conspiracy Thriller

by Stacey Fields

  “My ex-boyfriend, his boss, my brother, it could be any of them,” she said nervously.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Michael said holding up his hand to stop her. “Why don’t you take three steps back and explain to me who each of those people are.”

  “You don’t know?” she asked, leaning back and looking at him with surprise.

  “Gloria, let’s just assume that I know nothing,” he said, shoving another mouthful of steak and potatoes into his mouth. “So, tell me what you know, and we’ll go from there.”

  She covered her face again and let out a weak sob before looking up and continuing. “I tried to get out,” she said quickly. “After what happened to Rachel, I wanted out! I didn’t want to be involved in something like that. I did get out, too. And then when I heard about that Joy girl, I knew that they were connected!” her words were flowing out quickly, making Michael’s head spin. “But I didn’t have anything to do with that! I swear. I didn’t have anything to do with either of their deaths, I swear!”

  “No one is saying that you did,” Michael replied calmly, hoping that his tone would somehow serve to soothe her into a more relaxed train of thought—one he could actually follow.

  “They weren’t happy that I wanted out.” she said leaning forward quickly and whispering. “But they couldn’t do anything to me, because of my brother and all. But I wouldn’t put it past the other guys. They’re the ones that orchestrated the whole thing with your fiancée. My brother didn’t have anything to do with that. He can’t protect me forever! They’re going to be coming for me next, I just know it!”

  “Gloria,” Michael said firmly reaching his hand across the table and placing it on hers. “You need to breathe. I’m not following along with what you’re saying. Take a deep breath, and start at the beginning.”

  “Alright,” she said nodding and leaning back. She pushed herself up in the chair, pressing her back against the red leather seats and took a deep breath. “I guess it all started about a year and a half ago.”

  “Alright,” Michael replied. “That makes sense.” Lindsey had said that her partner and her had been looking into the new drug when he was shot about a year ago.

  “Well, I was working at the doctor’s office, right? Same job I have now. I worked real hard to get it, too. My family, we’re not usually the 9-5 job type. But, I’ll explain that in a little bit,” she said pushing her hair out of her face and trying to refocus herself. “Where was I?”

  “About a year and a half ago, you were working at the doctor’s office,” Michael reminded her.

  “Right,” she replied quickly. “Well, I was working one day, and the sales rep comes in—same guy that shows up every once in awhile to push some new medication onto the doctor.”

  “Sales rep?” Michael asked.

  “Yeah, you know,” she said expecting him to suddenly understand what she was saying. When she saw that it was clear that he didn’t, she explained. “The pharmaceutical guy—the one that works for those lab places and sells their new products.”

  “Pharmaceuticals?” Michael asked, feeling a sudden rush of excitement wash over him. That was it. That had to be where the drugs were coming from! Why hadn’t he thought of that before? “But there’s no pharmaceutical lab in the shopping mall,” he said more to himself than to Gloria.

  “Well, duh,” she said looking at him confused. “But what does that have to do with anything?”

  “Nothing, for the moment. Continue,” he urged her.

  “Well, at first he was all flirty and sweet,” Gloria explained.

  “Who?”

  “Glen,” she answered bluntly. “The pharmaceutical rep.”

  “Right,” he nodded, shoveling another pile of food into his mouth. The rush of emotion only served to fuel his appetite. He knew he was finally getting the answers he had been searching for, not just for the last week, but for the last eight months.

  “Well, we started dating—Glen and I.”

  “That’s your ex?”

  “Yes,” she said nodding. “But see, looking back now I know that he wasn’t just dating me for me, you know?”

  “No,” Michael said feeling slightly frustrated that it was taking her so long to explain everything. “What do you mean?”

  “Okay,” she said shifting her weight around again and looking over her shoulder. “This is where we come back to my family.”

  “Your brother.”

  “Yes. He’s Ronny Brookes.”

  “Ronny,” Michael said the name slowly, remembering it from somewhere.

  “You’ve heard of him, right? Everyone’s heard of Ronny.”

  “The name is familiar, but I can’t say I remember who he is.”

  “He’s the leader of The Lords,” she said in a harsh whisper.

  That was it! This was the link. Gloria Brookes was the link he was looking for. She was the missing piece between the drug supply and the Lords! “So, this Glen guy started dating you to get to your brother?” Michael asked, putting the pieces into place for himself.

  “I mean, he never said that, but I had my suspicions.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, he kept wanting to hang out around my place, asking if my brother was going to be coming by. One night, I got so sick of him asking, that I just had Ronny over.”

  “Why would a sales rep want to meet with a gang leader?”

  “I just thought it was because he really liked me, and wanted to meet my family. My parents both died a few years back, you see. Ronny’s really the only family I have left.”

  “But, obviously…”

  “Obviously it was more than that,” she said nodding in agreement. “Next thing I know, he’s hanging around my work. He’d call me and say that I needed to go meet him at all these random times.”

  “Glen?”

  “Yes. I’d go see him, and he’d give me some big envelope thing and say that I had to give it to my brother.”

  “And you did?”

  “Well, yeah,” she said shrugging. “I really liked him.”

  “And the fact that you were serving as a drug mule didn’t bother you?”

  “Well, it did at first, but then, when Ronny gave me the money to give to Glen, he let me keep some of it. And I’m not going to lie, working as a receptionist doesn’t always cut it on the pay front.”

  “So, you took your cut and kept your mouth shut.”

  “Yeah,” she said dejectedly. “Kind of wish I hadn’t now, though.”

  “That explains some things,” Michael said finishing the last bite on his plate. “But I still don’t understand what Rachel and Joy have to do with all of that.”

  “Well,” Gloria said fidgeting around nervously. “I didn’t know their names at the time,” she explained. “But I put two and two together when I saw the news.”

  “Mind putting them together for me now?”

  “One night, I drove out to pick up Glen from work, so we could go together to see my brother for one of the drop offs—it was a really big one, you see. The biggest we had ever done.” She paused to make sure Michael was following.

  “Okay,” he said, waiting for her to continue.

  “Well, I saw these two women waiting in a car in the parking lot.”

  “Which parking lot?”

  “The one at Meditech—that’s where Glen works—Meditech Pharmaceuticals.”

  “Why were they there?”

  “I don’t know, but I assumed they were cops or something at the time—so did Glen. They tailed us for a while, but we lost them eventually. I didn’t see them again, but we still had to change up our operation a little. And then, a week or so later I heard that a lady was shot and killed at Hamilton & Lewis. When I saw her picture, I recognized her immediately.”

  “What night was that, Gloria? Do you remember the date of the night you saw the women in the parking lot?”

  “It was early January,” she said trying to remember.

  “January 8th?”

&
nbsp; “Yes. I think so!”

  That was the night that Joy and Rachel had made plans to meet—the night Rachel told him she was sick, even though she obviously wasn’t. “What link does Hamilton & Lewis have with all of this?”

  “The law firm?” She shrugged. “I have no idea, honestly. Once I saw the report that the woman was killed, I got out. I wasn’t sure it was related back to them being in the parking lot that night, but I had this feeling, you know? I just had this feeling. And then, last week when I saw the other woman’s picture on the TV…” she cut her sentence short, burying her face in her hands again.

  “Is there anything else?” he asked her when she lowered her hands again.

  “No,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “Nothing.”

  “Gloria,” he said slowly. “What kind of car does your brother drive?”

  “I don’t know,” she said with a confused look on her face. “Some old junker. He doesn’t want to draw too much attention to himself with some big fancy thing.”

  “What about Glen?”

  “A Ford Focus, or something like that. Why?”

  “Do you know anyone that drives a black Impala?”

  “A black Impala?” she said to herself, thinking. “I think Glen’s boss drove a black car.” Her eyes darted around again, and stopped when she looked out the window to Michael’s left. “Like that one,” she said, pointing at whatever it was that had caught her eye.

  Michael turned around to look out the window. Sure enough, the same car that had been following him around for the last week was sitting in the parking lot. “Shit,” he said under his breath.

  “Oh God, Oh God, Oh God!” Gloria exclaimed her voice shaking and her eyes filling with tears again. “They’re here! They found us!”

  Michael scanned the room quickly. Only three other people had come in since they had been sitting there. One was sitting at the bar in the far corner of the room, and the other two were sitting together at a table in the center of the room, about 20 feet from where he and Gloria were sitting.

  He saw one of the men at the table reach into his coat pocket, leaning in to whisper something to his partner. “Gloria,” Michael said quietly. “I’m going to need you to do two things for me.”

  “What?” she asked looking at him nervously.

  “Shut up, and get down!” he yelled, reaching for his gun, which was tucked away in the back of his jeans and standing to his feet quickly. But it was too late. The two men at the table already had their guns drawn and pointed directly at him, and the man at the bar was walking slowly over to their table. He recognized them immediately from the laundromat parking lot—they were definitely the men following him for the last week.

  The handful of other customers had already left the restaurant. The only people in the room besides Michael, Gloria, and the three men were the waiter and the hostess, who were both hiding behind the large wooden hostess stand.

  “You’ll never be able take us all out before we get you,” the man said slowly still walking in their direction. Michael lowered his gun, knowing the man was right. “Good,” he said when he reached the table. He grabbed onto Gloria’s arm and pulled her up quickly. “Why don’t you two come with me? I have a feeling that we have a lot to talk about.”

  Chapter 17: Familiar Faces

  Michael wasn’t as surprised as he should have been when the car pulled into the long drive-way leading up to a house he had been in before—Mickey Walsh’s house. He and Gloria had been escorted, rather forcefully, from the restaurant and out to the black Impala in the parking lot. They were then pushed inside and told to remain silent until they reached their destination.

  At first, Michael thought it was the end. He imagined them driving them out to the middle of nowhere, shooting them both, and leaving them to die. He assumed Gloria thought the same thing, because for the entire ride, she sat next to him, trembling and sobbing softly.

  “We’re here,” the man driving the car said, when he had parked it in front of Mickey’s house. He turned around to face them. He looked like a respectable man at first glance.

  He was wearing a dress suit, which Michael assumed to be very expensive, because it was much fancier than anything he had in his own closet. He was middle-aged and had short brown hair, which he wore in the traditional pretentious comb-over style so common among businessmen, and small, pointed green eyes. Although it was clear that he had some level of upper body strength, he was a smaller man, and his real muscle came in the form of the two men who were riding with them in the car.

  Michael and Gloria remained silent as the men escorted them up the steps to the entrance of Mickey’s house. “Henry,” Mickey said pulling the door open. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

  “We have something we need to take care of,” the man with the suit said stepping to the side so that Mickey could get a better view of his hostages.

  “Well, look what we have here!” Mickey said taking a few quick steps in Michael’s direction. “How did I know that our paths would cross again one day?” he said with a slight laugh. “Alright,” he turned to face Henry again. “Bring them in!”

  Once again, Michael found himself weaving his way through the labyrinth of Mickey Walsh’s house. Once they were all in the large, ornate sitting room with the fireplace still roaring, despite the fact that it was the middle of the day and the oversized arm-chairs where Michael sat just a few days before, Henry ordered his men to search both of them for weapons and phones.

  They had taken his gun and cell phone back at the restaurant, and he didn’t have anything else on him, which they found surprising. “You really have no idea who or what you’re dealing with, do you?” Henry said to Michael with a hint of amusement as his men bound Michael’s hands behind his back.

  “If I said ‘no’ and you all just seem like a bunch of nice, respected businessmen and this is all just a mix-up, will you let us go?” Michael asked, knowing the answer, but still wanting to try something.

  The room filled with loud laughter that seemed to pass from one man to the next. “You’re a funny man, Mr. Kent,” Henry said as he motioned for his men to begin binding Gloria’s hands as well.

  Once they were both tied up and placed in the armchairs, the room fell silent. There was a nervous sort of tension in the air, and it was clear that Henry was unsure as to what to do next.

  “Let’s start at the beginning,” Mickey said, walking over to his desk and retrieving his cigar box, taking one out and lighting it.

  “You remember the job back in January?” Henry said turning his back to Michael and Gloria and addressing Mickey.

  “Which one?” Mickey asked calmly.

  “The girl—the one at the law firm.”

  “Rachel,” Michael said firmly, knowing exactly what he was talking about.

  “Oh!” Mickey said leaning over to look around Henry and at Michael. “That’s the girl you were asking about the last time, right? Your fiancée, was it?”

  “Yes,” Michael said firmly.

  “You’ve spoken to this man before?” Henry said, stepping forward towards Mickey, his voice rising in volume.

  “I found him snooping around my bushes,” Mickey said, letting a stream of smoke flow from his mouth.

  “Why didn’t we know about this?” Henry demanded.

  “Look,” Mickey said calmly but with a hint of authority. “I don’t ask you questions about your enterprises. Don’t ask me about mine.” Henry clenched his hands into fists at his sides. “Calm down, Henry, and continue, please.”

  “Well, the job in January went off without a hitch, but the one a week ago or so, the other girl from Hamilton & Lewis—it seems like that one caused a little more of a stir.”

  “Are you saying that my men did something wrong?” Mickey asked, inching closer to Henry.

  “I’m saying that for some reason, suspicions were raised.”

  “If the cops were nosing around that, I would have known,” Micke
y replied.

  “Not the cops,” Henry said turning to face Michael. “Him!”

  “And why do you care so much about him?” Mickey asked.

  “He’s figuring it out, Mickey,” Henry said turning back to face him. “And once he does, he’ll turn us in!”

  “So, what do you propose we do about him?”

  “We get rid of him! And the girl! She knows too much, too. I told you before, we should have gotten rid of her long ago!”

  “Do you really think that will make this all go away?” Michael asked, feeling the need to say something.

  “You shut your mouth!” Henry said, turning and storming over to where Michael was sitting.

  “It seems to me like all this killing people is what got you into this mess in the first place,” Michael continued speaking, regardless of Henry’s demand.

  “Shut your mouth!” Henry shouted again. He reached into his pocket and revealed a small revolver. He threw his hand back over his head and let it fly, placing a firm blow across Michael’s face, splitting his lip open and filling his mouth with blood.

  Michael knew that he was unraveling, quickly. The pressure of everything was getting to him. “My first judgment of you was right,” Michael said with a smile. “You’re not a criminal—not a good one at least. You’re just a businessman that got a little too greedy.”

  Henry took a quick step backwards and pulled back the hammer of his gun. “I’m going to do it, right now!” he yelled.

  “Calm your shit down, Henry,” Mickey said walking slowly around the desk in their direction. “He’s right, you know.”

  Henry didn’t lower his gun, but turned to face Mickey. “What?”

  “He’s right. This whole thing got out of hand when you and your partners decided that you were more than just low-level crooks. You had to be murders as well.”

  “It’s too late to go back now,” Henry said, turning back to face Michael. “We’re in too deep, Mickey. We have to do it!”

  “What is this ‘we’?” Mickey asked, taking another drag from his cigar. “I sure hope you’re talking about you and your business partners, and not including me in that ‘we’.”