Bill looked over at Darla.
Darla said, “I’m afraid that’s my fault. I had to destroy Bill’s phone.”
She reached for her phone and extended it to Bill. “Here, use mine. It’s secure and can’t be traced.”
Bill dialed Carol’s number. It rang several times and finally went to voicemail. “Hey, it’s Bill. I’m fine, but my phone is broken. Call me back on this number, and I’ll tell you what’s going on.”
Bill hung up the phone and handed it back to Darla.
Maria spoke up, “I think your friend is angry with you.”
“Why?”
Maria answered, “Because you ignored her.”
Joshua intervened, “Carol is his administrator, honey. Bill’s fiancée was killed not too long ago.”
Maria looked around Joshua at Bill, a tear ran down her cheek, “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” said Bill. He continued, “I’m sure Carol is just tied up. She’s watching my house, her apartment. There are a hundred reasons she wouldn’t answer. Now, where’s that banana pudding?”
Frank left his location behind the bar and disappeared into the house. A few minutes later, he came out with a tray full of banana pudding in glass dessert cups. Everyone took one, and again silence ensued. A sigh of satisfaction bounced around the table in a round-robin fashion as each person finished off the remnants of their desert.
Darla’s phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket. “Agent Brown speaking.”
There was a pause, and then Darla said, “Who?”
Another pause ensued, and Harold, Bill, Joshua, and Maria all looked at one another inquisitively.
Darla spoke once more, “If you hurt her.” She stopped for a moment, “I want proof of life.”
Darla extended the phone to Bill and said, “It’s Chuck, he has Carol.”
Chapter 15
A strange voice on the other end of the sound phone sounded chipper, “Billy, it’s been a long time.”
Bill scowled, “It’s Bill. If you had ever spoken to me, you’d know that.”
The stranger laughed, “Of course, I should have remembered.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m wounded. You don’t remember me. It’s Chuck, Chuck McGill, but you can just call me Chuck.”
Bill stood up and started to pace behind the others, “Why would I remember you?”
Chuck responded, “I called you when you were still in uptown Charlotte. It’s a shame you sold that place, by the way.”
Bill responded, annoyed, “I don’t remember your call.”
Chuck laughed, “I suspect not. You sounded distracted. I’m guessing you had a lady friend.”
“My fiancée. You know, the one you had killed.”
Chuck was quiet for a moment and then answered in a low voice, “Yes, I’m sorry about that. I told my men not to hurt anyone. I don’t need the attention. Nigel was an idiot and a horrible accountant, but I was shorthanded.”
Bill growled, “So that was you.”
Chuck let out an audible sigh, “I can hear you have your brother’s disposition. I can’t blame you. I’d be looking for revenge myself. Unfortunately, we’re past that.”
“Past what?” asked Bill.
Chuck’s voice became more assertive, “Past everything. You see, I want one thing, Harold.”
“Why?” asked Bill.
Chuck answered, “I’m afraid that’s need to know, and the less you know, the better.”
Bill responded, “You sound like the CIA.”
“Let’s just say we share best practices.”
Bill’s free hand began to move around, and his pacing quickened, “I can’t give you Harold. Why am I involved? Why did you involve Carol?”
“Leverage, my boy.”
Bill stopped and growled, “I swear, if you kill her.”
Chuck interrupted, “I would never kill such a beautiful woman. Here, see for yourself.”
The phone line was quiet, and then Carol’s familiar voice quaked through the receiver. “Bill, is that you?”
Bill’s voice was anxious. “Are you alright?”
“He’s got me guarded by sex traffickers. They keep telling me how much money they’ll make off me. I swear, I’ll die before I become a slave. Bill,” the phone went silent.
“Carol!”
Chuck’s voice responded, “You see, safe as can be.”
Bill’s heartbeat grew louder, “I swear, if anyone touches her, I’ll find you and tear you apart.”
Chuck’s voice was calm, “That is entirely up to you and the CIA.”
Bill was exasperated. “I don’t have any pull here.”
“I think you’re not giving yourself enough credit. Your brother and his wife have plenty of pull, and I’m quite certain they’ll see things your way.”
“What if they don’t?” asked Bill.
“Then I give Carol to my friends,” answered Chuck menacingly.
Bill was urgent, “She’d rather die.”
“That’s up to her.”
The phone line went dead. Bill squeezed the phone, and an audible crack caused Darla to yell, “Please, don’t. It’s the only link we have to Carol.”
Bill stopped himself and handed the phone back to Darla. She looked it over and put it back in her pocket.
Bill said, “I need to go for a walk.”
Harold answered, “Stay on the road and trails, and you should be okay.”
Darla hollered, “Wait!”
Bill turned, “What?”
“What did Chuck say?”
Bill’s brow wrinkled, “You know what he said.”
“How would I know?”
Bill answered, “Because you needed to.”
He turned and quickly walked through the opened wall, past the parlor, and was soon out the front door. He stopped on the front porch and debated heading back to his bungalow but instead went to his right and followed the driveway and shell covered lane to see where it would lead.
White LED lights sat at the edge of the foliage next to the road. Their pale white light clearly showed the path while not disturbing the night sky. Bill had not bothered to look up. He was too busy following the ground lights and blocking out everything but the eerie glow at his feet. His mindless trek stopped when he came to a fork in the road.
A lit footpath veered off to the right into the darkness. The shadows of shrubs, trees, and sawgrass sat in the distance. The other direction was the road and lights that led towards a small bend. Bill looked up for the first time and noticed the full moon. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he could make out the pale reflection on the plant life ahead.
He turned right and began to follow the path. An occasional rustle of leaves or limbs by an unseen animal or reptile would startle Bill, but he kept moving forward. Although the plants were cut back, a breeze would sometimes cover some of the pathway’s lights. He was considering turning around when the world broke open before him.
A small beach lay nestled between the water and overgrowth. The same lights lined the back of the beach. The full moon reflected off the water, creating diamonds on its ripples. Small rocks dotted the muted white sand, and a large, flat boulder sat partway in the water. A wrought iron bench sat just to the right of the rock.
Bill sat down on the bench and looked skyward for the first time. A canopy of stars spread out before him. He smiled and remembered sneaking out at night after lights out at the orphanage. He would lay back on a picnic table in the quadrant and try to count the stars above his head. As he grew older, he would try and identify the clusters.
A frown formed on Bill’s face. All the stars looked the same. Concentrating, Orion’s belt began to peek out from among the stars, and then grew so obvious Bill wondered how he had missed it at all. A reddish orb, slightly larger than the rest, appeared to pulse.
Bill pointed up and said to no one, “Mars. You’re Mars.”
His forehead wrinkled, and his brow creased. Bill con
tinued pointing to the sky and asked, “How can you do this.” He raised both hands, “Look at this. How can you make all of this and let this world suffer so much?”
Bill dropped his hands sat silent. Only the breeze disturbed the plants behind him.
He spoke again, “Why? Why Lori? Why Carol? Why am I a killer? If you created me, if you created this, tell me why. Is that too much to ask?”
“Maybe it’s above your paygrade.”
Bill jumped at the sound of Harold’s voice and sat up.
Harold continued, “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to snoop.”
Bill ran his hand through his hair, “Did you follow me?”
“No, this is where I come to think and pray.”
Bill looked over at Harold’s large silhouette as he walked towards him. He stood as Harold drew near. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know this was your spot. I can leave.”
Harold put his hand on Bill’s shoulder, “Don’t be silly. Stay.”
“I can see why you come here.”
Harold turned and faced the darkness and diamonds on the water. “Yes, this place has an effect on people.” He turned back to Bill, “Please, sit down. Let me grab my chair.”
Bill looked around for a chair when Harold climbed up on the flat rock. He crossed his legs and looked in Bill’s direction. Even by the moonlight, Bill could see Harold’s eyes dance.
Bill asked, “What did you come here to think about?”
“Darla told me what Chuck wants.”
“Let me guess, you’re not going.”
Harold stretched out his legs and leaned back on his arms. “Actually, I volunteered, but I was overruled by the CIA and my wife.”
“Your wife works for the CIA.”
“Exactly.”
Bill stood up, “So, my friend dies because your wife is afraid something will happen to you.”
Harold sat up and extended his hands, “Hold on. Don’t get too far ahead of yourself. Darla promised me they’ll get Carol back alive without giving me up.”
Bill walked over and leaned against the rock, next to Harold. “You’ll have to excuse me if I’m not convinced. Your wife seemed pretty surprised by the men showing up in the hanger. What’s to stop her from being wrong again?”
Harold shrugged, “Nothing, I guess. But, I trust my wife, and I trust Maria. Neither woman would want any other woman to end up as a sex slave.”
“So, is Maria some sort of spy expert?”
Harold answered, “No. She was sort of a housekeeper and a nanny to me growing up, almost like the big sister no boy ever wants. That doesn’t sound like much, but don’t let her humble background fool you. Her family came to our country to escape the cartel in Mexico. She saw some horrible things growing up. She understands what Carol is facing. If she trusts Darla and Garcia to get her out, I do too.”
“After talking with Chuck, I’m convinced I was right,” said Bill. “You were the target the whole time. But why?”
Harold leaned back again. “I wish I knew what’s so interesting about me. Chuck had his chances earlier to take me. I’m not sure what’s changed.”
Bill sighed, “So, Lori died for this?”
“Not just Lori, but maybe my parents too. I least I think they did.”
“You’re not sure?”
Harold shook his head. “John Richmond was a close friend of the family. He and his conspirators drove my dad to suicide with false accusations.”
“I read about some of this in the papers when John was killed. Wait, are you the guy that killed John Richmond?”
Harold nodded, “We managed to keep my name out of the news.”
Bill took a few steps away and then turned, “The papers said a resident had stopped John from killing a doctor and a housekeeper. That was Joshua and Maria?”
Harold nodded.
“How does that tie in with Chuck?”
Harold answered, “John knew Chuck. I’ve always thought there was a connection there, but I’ve never been able to figure it out.”
“What does Darla think?”
Harold answered, “She said it looks suspicious, but it probably isn’t connected.”
“I have a question. How did it feel when you killed John?”
Chapter 16
Harold turned and let his legs hang over the rock. Bill thought his eyes looked sadder and small wrinkles traced across his forehead.
Harold answered, “If I’m honest, it felt good when I killed him. John Richmond had destroyed my parents, their business and attempted to kill anyone who was still around. All my hurt and anger were directed at him in my rage. The power of going berserk, controlling it, focusing it, that was a rush, like a drug.
“Afterwards, all the guilt and regret of my actions overwhelmed me. I realized I had taken a life. Even in self-defense, I felt like a murderer because of the joy I took in my actions.”
Bill walked up closer to Harold, “That’s what I’m feeling.”
Harold asked, “Are you having nightmares?”
“I mean, Joshua told me they are memories of our sessions together. I’ve seen Lori in some.”
Harold asked, “Any demons or the people you killed.”
“Oh, nothing like that.”
Harold let out a sigh, “You’re lucky. I was haunted for months. Darla, Garcia, and Joshua finally helped me understand that God had given me this gift. Without my ability, they might all be dead by now.
“Joshua explained the momentary joy of my actions was focused on protecting others, not harming them.”
Bill crossed his arms, “So, you think our ability to tear people apart is a gift from God?”
Harold shrugged, “That’s above my paygrade.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Harold answered, “It means I’m not God. I didn’t make me. I just have to learn to live with who I am and try to be the best person I can possibly be. That whole Christian thing I grew up with; the grace of Jesus. Either forgiveness is real, or it’s not. If it’s real, God is molding me into the person I was created to be. If it’s not, then maybe John Richmond and his pleasure island we’re standing on was right.”
Bill asked, “This belonged to John?”
Harold nodded.
“So, you think God gave you this island for killing John?”
Harold stared intently at Bill for several seconds and then answered. “You really are cynical.”
“I think I have a right to be.”
Harold answered, “Maybe. To answer your question, the CIA gave me this island. It’s a long story. I’m not fond of it, and if I can offload it someday, I will. I take it you don’t believe in God.”
Bill walked to the water’s edge, “I used to believe. I don’t know anymore. What kind of God takes away the only family an orphan finally has?”
Bill turned and looked at Harold, who was slipping off the rock. He walked over and put his arm around Bill’s shoulder.
Harold answered, “I don’t know. I can tell you that Bible you used to read is full of people who experienced massive loss. Later God brought them into something better to accomplish his purpose. It’s funny; we always sat in church and sang hymns about these stories or talked about these people in Sunday School.
“Everyone seems to forget that these people had no idea what was going on at the time. Jonah inside the fish, I’m sure he thought he was dead. David having Saul throws spears at him during fits of rage. Elijah on the run from Jezebel. Job losing his family and everything he ever owned. We know the end of the stories, but they didn’t.”
The two began to walk back towards the trail.
Bill finally asked, “So, you’re saying I should have faith?”
Harold answered, “Yes.”
Bill mumbled, “Easier said than done.”
He slipped his shoulder from Harold’s embrace, and the two quietly walked back to the main house. Darla was sitting in the living room with a cocktail. The wall had been shut, and the room felt cooler and d
ryer.
Harold said, “I found him just where we thought.”
Darla pointed at the empty loveseat. “Please, sit down and visit with us for a few minutes.”
Bill sat down, and Darla picked up two drinks like her own.
Bill put up his hand, “Thank you, I’m not in the mood.”
Darla smiled and put the drink in front of him. She handed Harold the other one.
She turned back to Bill and said, “Please, this will help you sleep better tonight. You’ve had a very hectic day. Besides, I made them myself. You wouldn’t want to insult me in my own home, would you?”
Bill reached for his glass, “Well when you put it that way, I can’t insult my newly found brother’s wife. What sort of drink is it?”
Darla answered, “It’s a mojito.”
Bill smiled and gave her a nod. The rum drink’s cool mint flavor refreshed his pallet, and Bill drank half the glass before putting it down. He sat back on the sofa and put his arm up on the back. Harold sat in the corner with a permanent smile partially exposed under his red beard.
Bill pointed to Harold’s face, “How long do you plan on keeping that thing?”
Darla interjected, “Thank you. He won’t listen to me. I want to see my husband’s face, but he says he won’t shave until we catch Chuck and we can get out of here.”
Harold answered them both, “It’s like a vow.”
Bill said, “It sounds more like an excuse.”
He began to laugh at his own joke, sat up, doubled over, and continued laughing. His head felt light, and the room started to swim. He stopped laughing and tried to focus.
Bill said, “Excuse me, this drink is hitting me harder than I thought. I think I better go to my bungalow.”
Darla leaned forward, “Please, don’t try. You may fall down before you get there.”
“Did you slip me mickey?”
Darla answered, “Yes.”
Harold asked, “You drugged my brother’s drink?”
Darla put up her hands, “Please, it isn’t like that. It’s just a little drug to help him relax and remember.”
Bill’s slurred, “Truth serum.”
“Exactly.”
“Why?” asked Harold.
Darla answered, “We have your brother’s phone records. We know Chuck called him at his condo when he lived in uptown Charlotte. However, your brother doesn’t remember anything about that conversation. According to what I’ve read, Chuck called him multiple times in a span of just a few minutes.
Bill and the Sting of Death Page 9
