The Alex Troutt Thrillers: Books 1-3 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set)

by John W. Mefford

  My leg bumped a small table next to a framed window, and I looked down and found a jewelry box and small mirror. I began sifting through the jewelry. I was alone, so for the first time all day, I was able to relax and not worry if I could recall the sentiment behind each piece.

  Angling the mirror toward me, I raised a colorful brooch and held it next to my chest. It was a reindeer, complete with a red nose. Rudolph. It was a little obnoxious, but cute. I guessed the kids got this for me, maybe with a little help from Dad.

  Strands of pearl necklaces were tangled with other necklaces and bracelets. I picked up the wad of jewelry, a little frustrated it wasn’t better organized. When was the last time I’d worn any of this?

  A small silver bracelet dropped from the hairball. Picking it up, I could see it was a charm bracelet. There were two baby heads, one for Luke and one for Erin. Other charms included a soccer ball, a basketball, a cheerleading pom-pom, and a flute. I wondered if Erin used to play. Now she was riding the popular wave, which meant there were times when the social pressure would engulf her entire life—like today.

  I searched for my wedding rings. I found a couple of other rings with large colorful stones, one ruby, and another emerald. Costume jewelry. But no sign of the wedding rings. As I closed the box, I spotted a simple necklace with a heart-shaped locket at the end. I opened it and saw a picture of a plain woman. She wasn’t smiling. She was just staring at the camera. I wrapped the necklace around my neck and eyed it in the mirror.

  “Hi, Alex.”

  My heart erupted. I’d heard Mark’s voice just before I felt his hands on my arms.

  “Jesus, Mark. Trying to give me a heart attack?”

  “Sorry.”

  I could see his face in the mirror just above my shoulder.

  “How did you sneak up on me so easily?”

  “Sock feet,” he said with a smile.

  I turned and saw him wiggling his toes.

  “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

  “Oh. Uh, thank you.” His act of genuine kindness caught me off guard.

  “What do you have there?” He placed the silver heart in the palm of his hand.

  “Do you know who this woman is?”

  Tight lips split his stubbly face.

  “Is this a touchy subject?”

  He took a step back, scratching his head. “It’s your mother.”

  “Oh, I’ve been wanting to—”

  “She died years ago, Alex. When you were a kid.”

  My eyes moved to the floor.

  “I know there’s still so much you don’t know. I didn’t want to overwhelm you, but you need to know the key facts. And this is one of them.”

  I looked back up, his eyes briefly catching mine. He looked tired; maybe this was how he looked every night at midnight after a long day’s work. “Do you know much about her? She looks…not sad, but just there.”

  Mark walked over to his dresser, took off his watch, and set it in a pewter tray. His sleeves were rolled up, his shirt wrinkled to hell.

  “She died in a car crash when you were young. You were, I don’t know, maybe five or six.” His back was to me. All of sudden, it felt much colder in the room.

  Something occurred to me then.

  “Is the reason you were all worried about me in the hospital? Because you thought I’d end up like my mom?”

  “What? Uh…no, Alex. The thought never crossed my mind.”

  “Why are you turning away when I’m asking about my mom?” I was becoming more comfortable with straightforward questions.

  “Um, it’s really nothing now.”

  “Now as in ‘this day,’ or now as in ‘this time of my life,’ or what?”

  He glanced over his shoulder quickly, then flipped back around and stared at the dresser while he unbuttoned his shirt. “You had a rough childhood. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  I was intrigued, but also weary. It had been a long day, and my body wasn’t up for an all-night fact fest that probably wouldn’t open any doors to the memories of my life.

  “Maybe some other time then,” I said, clasping my hands in front of me. My fingers rubbed against each other, and the absence of my rings made me feel exposed.

  I kept my hands occupied, and we went about our business getting ready for bed. No words were spoken. Climbing into bed, we locked eyes momentarily, then found our positions at least an arm’s length apart. Suddenly, he leaned over, kissed the top of my head.

  What was I, a dog?

  As he pulled away, I happened to notice his left hand. No ring. Maybe we’d both agreed not to wear our rings. What couple does that? Maybe we were going through a difficult time. I certainly wasn’t feeling the mojo from Mark. But he could be feeling the same about me, even before the crash.

  We exchanged cursory goodnights, then I stared at the ceiling thinking about two stiffs and how they ended up that way—the one in the water earlier and the one lying in the bed next to me.

  8

  Fog pumped into the midnight air like a locomotive chugging up a mountain. The steam coiled beyond the jagged rocks and above the pines, illuminated by a moon so bright the man could probably read a good book. Stephen King’s The Shining came to mind. In some respects, he could relate to the main character, Jack. A purpose in life that seemed to have evolved into an urge so rewarding it felt nearly uncontrollable.

  Using the sleeve of his denim shirt, he wiped beads of perspiration from his forehead. Even as the temperature plummeted below the freezing mark, he’d worked up a full-on body sweat. No pain, no gain, his father had always told him. And he was just getting started.

  He felt something smacking his shoe. Looking down, he spotted a hand grasping at his rubber boots. Kicking it away, he glanced back up and surveyed the uninhabited island. All that could be heard was the Atlantic Ocean calmly lapping against the tapered shore.

  “Please…please help me,” a quivering voice said.

  The man watched the loser stretch across the muddy sand, his body shaking from lying in a foot of frigid water.

  “Right on time, Rick. Thanks for joining me. We’re going to have a grand time tonight,” the man said, moving to his right, where he had assembled all the material needed for the evening’s festivities. He sat on one of the smooth boulders that protruded just above sea level, pulled twine and a plastic baggie out of his duffel bag. While eyeing the moon, he lifted the baggie close to his ear and jiggled it.

  “Do you hear that, Rick? That’s the sound of fornication.”

  When Rick didn’t respond, he looked closer and saw him pawing at the sand, trying to drag his body down the shoreline one inch at a time.

  “A sand turtle would have lapped you by now,” the man said, noting that his prisoner had moved all of five or six feet. “Rick, I’ll give you a little insight.”

  Rick, whose legs were hardly able to function due to the strong sedative he’d been given earlier, paused, his trembling arm falling to the sand. “What do you…w-want…with me?”

  The man slapped his knees, lifted off the boulder, and walked down the shore. Passing three pines, he tapped his forefinger on each one. Then he stopped, backpedaled, and tapped each of them again in the same order.

  Once he reached Rick, he crouched down while grabbing a handful of rocky sand.

  “Why am I here, with you, on this island?”

  Rick tried turning his head, and for a brief second, the man could see his red-rimmed eyes.

  “I’m a pretty smart guy, Rick. Some might even call me a genius. That’s their opinion, I suppose. But I’ve also learned a few things as I’ve grown up.”

  “Am I supposed to ask you what you’ve learned?” Rick asked with a hint of defiance in his garbled voice.

  The man poured half of the sand into his other hand. “I’ve always seen the world as symmetrical, a perfect balancing act across a billion variables. When one of those is thrown off balance, there is an equal and opposite pull to make it even again. I’ve been
taught that applies to more than physics. It’s applicable to humans and the impact we have on each other.”

  “Huh?

  “You’re not catching on very quickly, Rick. I know a lot about you, but I never looked at your aptitude test scores. Are you not very smart?”

  “Screw you.”

  “I take that as a no. Anyway, you’ve crossed the line countless times. So, for every action you’ve taken, it’s now my job to counter that in the best way I know how.”

  Rick shook his head, then raised up on his elbows. “You’re not making any sense. I think you have the wrong guy. Really, I do. Just put me in your boat, drop me off on the mainland, and I’ll be on my way. Then you can find the person who needs to be fixed. I won’t tell a soul, I swear.”

  The man began to chuckle.

  “What’s so fucking funny? I’m freezing my ass off. You drugged me with something, and I can barely hold myself up.”

  “You didn’t know it, but you used a pun. Fixed. Get it?”

  Rick rubbed his eyes, his hand still shaking. He began to breathe in heavy gasps. “Just tell me what the fuck I need to do.”

  “Fixed can be used to describe an animal being spayed or neutered. I thought it was applicable to our discussion.” The man found specks of sand on his hand and began to count each one.

  “You’re going to castrate me? What kind of sick fuck are you?” Rick asked with more emotion creeping into his voice.

  The man silently moved his lips, counting higher and higher.

  “Are you chanting or what?”

  The man could hear Rick speaking, but it wasn’t as important as finishing his task.

  “Hello. Are you even there?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, the man could see Rick lunge to his left—breaking through the thin shell of undisturbed ice—then roll across the shore like a seal playing in the shallow water.

  “Where are you going, Rick?” The slimeball hadn’t learned that he couldn’t get away even if he could use his appendages. “Rick, I owe you an answer to your question.”

  The man walked past Rick, touching each of the trees with his forefinger, and over to his workstation. Sitting on the boulder, he said, “You cheated on your wife, Rick. First with Kelly, then with Amber, and then again with Felicia. And that doesn’t include the young college girl tonight.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I have my ways, Rick. I have my ways.”

  A few minutes ticked by as the man started piecing together his vignette.

  Again, Rick apparently saw this as an opportunity to escape. He made a feeble attempt, moving about twenty feet. A little more progress on this go-round. The man noted that Rick was slowly regaining his strength.

  “Rick, my man, I forgot to provide that insight.”

  “What the hell are you going to give me, a stock tip?”

  The man didn’t laugh. All numbers aside, Rick wasn’t taking this seriously.

  “I’m going to kill you, Rick. That much is certain.”

  He heard a whimper as Rick dropped his head.

  “How much you suffer, though, is really up to you, my friend. So think about your life for the next few minutes as I set up our scene.”

  Rick’s whimper morphed into a wailing cry. A minute later, he was cussing and throwing fists of pebbles and sand at him. The man simply ignored the middle-aged insurance salesman, acknowledging that even the idiots of the world had to work through the five stages of grief.

  With all the pre-work completed, the man straddled Rick and picked him up.

  “Do you have your sea legs yet?”

  Rick wiped dirt and tears from his face. “Yeah, I do. Thanks.”

  “You’re even speaking with some manners. You have done some soul searching. Hold it right here while I get something.”

  Rick said, “You know, I’ve been giving this a lot of thought. Actually, I’ve been praying. Yeah, me and God, we’re like this.”

  The man didn’t bother looking up.

  “Anyway, I’m glad you’ve taken me out here. I kind of feel like Scrooge being shown how he’s screwed up his life and others he cared about by the Ghost of Christmas Past. It’s been enlightening.”

  The man returned to Rick and stood behind him. “Hug yourself.”

  “Huh?

  “You first need to love yourself before you can love anyone else.”

  “Right. Okay.” Rick did as he was told. They all did, thinking they could slither out of their predicament as smoothly as they’d slithered into the pants of the naïve younger women.

  The man found the edge of the duct tape and started wrapping it tightly around Rick’s waist.

  “What are you doing?”

  “What I told you I was going to do.”

  “But I thought you wanted me to acknowledge my sins and ask for forgiveness.”

  “And did you?”

  “Yes, I told you I said a prayer. It’s all good. I’m ready for my second chance at life.”

  The duct tape had reached Rick’s elbows.

  “This is where I need your help. Can you bow your chest a bit? I’m trying to create an upside-down volcano. Can you picture it?”

  “Uh, I guess. Is this some kind of prank?”

  The first roll of tape ran out. He pulled out the second roll from his bag and continued the process, walking around Rick, ensuring the proper amount of overlap to build the strongest funnel possible.

  “This isn’t a prank, Rick. I thought I explained the law of human physics.”

  “But didn’t you say I had to love myself first? I did, and then I asked for forgiveness.”

  The man circled Rick and stopped inches from his face. “You believed that bullshit?”

  He tied two cinderblocks to Rick’s ankles, knowing this was when the reality would start hitting.

  “Please, please, please, no. You can’t do this to me. I’m a good person, I swear.”

  “On your own grave? That would be difficult, wouldn’t it?”

  Jostling left and right, Rick tried to pull his arms free. A waste of energy.

  “Rick, you’ve mocked your marriage and your family, sticking your dick into anything that moves—no offense to Kelly, Amber, or Felicia. And now you want me to pretend nothing ever happened.”

  The man picked up Rick, dragging him and his cinderblocks another six feet into the ocean.

  “But I’ll change, I promise. You know, just like Scrooge,” Rick whined.

  This was the part that annoyed the man the most—whining and whimpering like a baby who had just lost his pacifier. Still, he knew Rick was special. He reached for his back pocket and felt the outline of his rusted, dull switchblade. He had plans for the blade, and the body part that Rick cherished more than any other. Later, though, when Rick would be on his last breath.

  Taking in a salty breath, he decided to stick to his plan—for now—and he picked up a cinderblock, waded into the water, and tossed it into Rick’s duct-tape pouch. Rick nearly toppled over, screaming as the block scraped his neck and chest.

  “You can’t fall over. That ruins the fun far too early in the process. That’s the trick, Rick. I like that. I’ll call you Tricky Ricky. Kind of fits, given your propensity for using all your catchy one-liners to lure those young girls with bullshit promises. Meanwhile, Jeanne is at home trying to deal with twin teenage girls, both of whom have a learning disability, while taking care of her ailing mother. It’s just not right, Rick.”

  “And you think you have the right to judge me? You’re nothing but a fucking asshole. You’ve probably never been laid in your life. I’m a grown man, motherfucker, and I can fuck who I want to fuck, when I want to fuck them.”

  Lashing out. It was all part of the process.

  “By the way, there’s a ring attached to that cinderblock.”

  Rick tried dipping his head, until his eyes found the ring. “What…who are you?”

  “I’m just a guy helping make the world a better place. And
that can only be done if guys like you are six feet under—the water, that is.”

  Rick looked around as the water lapped against his chin. “What are you planning to do?”

  “We’re going to play high-low. Well, it’s really more low-high.”

  “You’re fucking high.”

  The man just stared at Rick, then shook his head. “It’s all about the tide. As it gets higher, you begin to drown, slowly, painfully.”

  Rick began to cry, his head bobbing up and down, water entering his mouth. “I’m s-sorry. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

  “Sorry. That’s an interesting term. If you were going to be transparent about your intentions, you might say something like, ‘To show you that I regret everything I did, I’m going to use a term that will hopefully manipulate your opinion of me.’ One word, and it all goes away. Right, Rick?”

  “I don’t know what to say. You’re judging me for making a mistake. I’m human. Shoot me.”

  Self-pity. Pretty much following the formula.

  “Rick, do you know how old that girl was tonight?”

  “Which girl?”

  “Which girl, Rick? You think I’m that gullible, or even blind?”

  “Okay, okay. I didn’t mean to upset you. I know who you’re talking about. I think her name was Amanda.”

  “Being a salesman and all, you have to remember names, don’t you?”

  “I have to be good at everything, names, numbers.”

  “Nineteen. Is that a number you recall?”

  “Nineteen what?”

  “Years. Amanda, a sophomore in college. She’s almost as young as your own daughter. You were trying to screw a girl who’s as young as your daughter. That’s messed up, my man.”

  Shivering, Rick eyed the wall of duct tape.

  “I was just talking to her. No harm.”

  “Right. Just like the others,” the man said, back at his workstation, looping the twine through the other rings and then tying them to the cinderblock.