He moved closer to Selene.
“I blew the man’s brains out with his gun,” bragged Julian, “making it look like he did it himself. Even left behind some souvenirs from the victims to seal the deal.”
Selene could barely believe what she was hearing. Julian McKenzie had just admitted that he had murdered those women and had framed Michel for the crimes and then killed him, too.
She watched as Julian removed what looked like a scarf from his pocket and began to snap it between his hands.
“Sorry, Selene, but this is something I have to do,” he told her. “I’ve wanted to do this from the very beginning, but it seemed smarter to stick with bitches I didn’t know. Except Cyndi Gordon. Met her at Dennis Cramer’s barbecue. It wasn’t too hard to get Cyndi to let down her guard and trust the last person in the world she should have. A big mistake that you’ve also made...”
Selene was scared to death, but determined to hold it together. She didn’t want to die. Not like this. Not by him. She assessed her escape routes.
Selene looked directly at Julian and stammered, “You’ll never get away with this. Killing me will let Michel off the hook. The police will hunt you down.”
“Not if they think Quinn was the real killer!” Julian’s eyes lit like fire. “When he comes back from his run, it’ll look like Giovanni was right all along—that Quinn really did kill those hapless women and found a patsy in Giovanni, before killing him. Quinn finished off his murdering ways by killing you, so you could join his first cheating bitch of a wife.”
Selene could tell that Julian had thought this all out, including Quinn’s absence. He was clearly a psycho, but smart enough to see it through with possibly no one being the wiser. No one alive anyway. She would have to fend for herself.
“You don’t have to do this, Julian,” Selene said, trying to switch tactics. “It’s never too late to turn your life around.” Selene knew she was grasping at straws, but hoped the message would somehow resonate with him.
He laughed. “Nice try, Selene. You almost had me thinking about it for a moment or two,” Julian said with amusement. “You’d say anything to try to save your pretty little neck. Doesn’t matter. This is the way it has to be. You’ll be better off anyway. Just like the other bitches I put out of their misery—”
The sudden ringing of Selene’s cell phone caused them both to jump. The phone was in her purse, which she had tossed on the sofa earlier.
She moved in that direction, but Julian quickly stepped between her and the sofa.
“Can’t let you answer that,” he said tersely. He grabbed the phone out of her purse and flung it at the wall so hard, it was immediately silenced. “I should have guessed that leaving the phone off the hook in the kitchen might not be enough. Doesn’t matter now. By the time anyone catches on that you’re in trouble, it’ll be too damned late to do anything about it—”
Julian stepped towards Selene with the outstretched scarf. She backed away. Her heart was pounding wildly and perspiration pouring down her armpits.
Julian stepped toward her again. Realizing she was literally backing herself into a corner, Selene decided she had to go for it. Or die trying. She balled her fist and swung it with all her might, hitting Julian flush on his broad nose.
The blow caught him off guard and he winced. Fury colored his face and he back-smacked her. She bit back the pain, tasting blood.
“Don’t fight me, Selene,” he said angrily. “It’ll only make things worse. Just let it happen...”
Out of the corner of her eye, Selene spotted the vase on the end table. If only she could get to it.
“Not a chance, you bastard!” Selene said defiantly.
In one swift motion, she grabbed the vase and slammed it against the side of Julian’s head, causing the vase to shatter. Julian was stunned, and he relaxed the tight extension of the scarf. Sensing this might be her only chance to get away, Selene clasped her hands, thrust them behind her head and moved forward rapidly, slamming them right between his eyes.
Julian screamed and appeared to be disoriented. Selene bolted across the floor for the front door. She managed to get her hands around the doorknob before Julian caught up to her.
He put the scarf around her neck, constricting her air passage. Then he pulled her backwards and off her feet as he tightened the scarf. She flailed away with her arms, hands, and legs at the killer, to no avail.
Oh, God, please help me. Don’t let him kill me!
Selene was beginning to lose consciousness at about the same time she heard what sounded like the front door bursting open.
Then she heard Quinn’s booming voice. “Let her go, Julian!”
The scarf around Selene’s neck loosened enough to allow her to breathe and fight passing out. Out of her periphery, she saw Quinn literally fly through the air and land atop Julian. Both men went down to the ground, while Selene somehow managed to stay on her feet, clutching her sore throat and gasping for air.
She watched as Quinn got the upper hand, punching Julian in the face a couple of times. But just as quickly, Julian seemed to take control, hitting Quinn with his powerful fists.
Selene knew she had to do something. She staggered to the fireplace, grabbed one of the solid brass ball handle tools, and headed towards the men.
Julian was half on top of Quinn, and both men were landing blows, when she got to them. Reversing her hold on the tool so that the ball could be used as a weapon, Selene raised her arm up and brought it down as hard as she could, hitting Julian on top of the head. It was enough to stun him, allowing Quinn to gain the advantage. Following a couple of solid punches to Julian’s jaw and chin, he fell over into unconsciousness.
Suddenly, Detective Cramer ran in along with a half a dozen other cops, all with guns drawn.
“There’s the man you’re looking for,” Selene told them, pointing at Julian McKenzie.
Cramer glared at the fallen man. “Yeah, I can see that.” He ordered the officers to arrest him just as Julian began to come around.
Selene rushed to her husband, who was slowly getting to his feet. Blood oozed from his split lip and one eye was swollen and nearly shut.
“Did he hurt you?” Quinn asked her.
Selene swallowed. Her neck was still burning and her throat was sore, but she managed a smile. “He tried, but never got the chance to finish the job.”
Quinn winced. “Thank God for that. If anything had happened to you—”
“You’re hurt, darling,” Selene cried, more concerned about his condition than hers. She ignored all the commotion going on around them and tried to tend to him.
“I’m all right,” Quinn said.
Selene wrapped her arms around him and thought about how close she’d come to death.
The police handcuffed Julian McKenzie and led him away.
Officer Leighton diverted from the group and approached the Herreras. “I’m so glad McKenzie didn’t...”
“So am I,” Selene said. She glanced at Julian McKenzie as he disappeared out the front door. “Looks like we both have a strong will for survival.”
Ashley smiled. “Yeah, I think we do.”
Selene finally felt that this nightmare was truly about to end.
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
Three weeks later, The Woods had returned to some semblance of normalcy. Old wounds were beginning to heal and the community seemed determined to put the dark days behind them. The park was again a place to enjoy, and shoppers were returning to upscale stores. Construction of new homes and condos had resumed, promising to bring in new residents to this prospering district of Bluffs Bay.
At the community center, the latest meeting of The Woods Citizens Against Crime group was underway. With Selene and Quinn’s prompting, Todd Foxworth had agreed to step in as the new director. He stood alongside them now at the podium.
Selene held her husband’s hand and counted her blessings that they had both survived a brush with death and all the horrors that Julian McKenzi
e and Michel Giovanni had put them through.
“I’m not sure if I’m the right man for the post,” Todd told the gathering. “But I’ll do my best to try to fill Quinn’s shoes, though it won’t be easy. I won’t even bother dignifying the short stint Julian McKenzie had as the director. I’m dedicating my position to the memory of Cyndi Gordon and what might have been between us if things had turned out differently.” He paused reflectively. “Now I know the Herreras have a few things they want to say before we get out of here. So I’ll turn the mic over to them...”
Quinn shook Todd’s hand and addressed the crowd. “As I’m sure everyone here knows by now, Julian McKenzie confessed to being the so-called Woods Strangler and an assortment of related crimes, including the attempted murder of Selene and me...” Quinn glanced at Selene and then turned back to the crowd.
“Word is that a plea bargain is in the works that would keep McKenzie from ever having to harm another living soul,” Quinn continued, “while sparing the community a long and difficult trial. This whole thing has been a growing experience for all of us. I know that Selene and I have come away from it better people and closer than ever. I think we all have the green light now to get on with our lives and be thankful for what we have.”
The room erupted with murmurs of support.
Selene grinned at her husband and then gave the thumbs up to Elisa and Marvin, followed by Dennis and Melody Cramer. Selene thought about how far they and their neighbors had come. Though the road had been fraught with challenges, they had triumphed over the forces of darkness. She looked forward to growing old with Quinn and bringing children into the world.
Using her hip to bump Quinn aside, Selene tilted the microphone down. “I just wanted to give a special thanks to Officer Ashley Leighton, my good friend, whose detective skills quite literally saved the day, and who knows how many more lives. We’re all eternally grateful to you, Ashley.”
As the crowd erupted into applause, Selene smiled at the woman who had refused to allow domestic violence to destroy her.
Ashley was seated next to Todd Foxworth. Rumor had it that the two were fast becoming friends with romance a distinct possibility down the line.
Ashley stood up and gave Selene a heartfelt nod in return. “Thank you, Selene, for everything you did to help me turn my life around and escape the cycle of abuse. If you and S.A.W. House hadn’t been there for me, well...I won’t even go there...”
Selene nodded back, trying not to cry. They would be forever indebted to each other.
Selene sighed and faced the crowd. “Before this meeting is adjourned, I want to remind all of you that Quinn will be signing advance copies of the paperback version of his latest mystery novel right here in this very room. A representative from his publisher is on hand to take your money and has agreed to donate half of it to my new foundation for helping battered women escape abuse, educate themselves, and get back on their financial feet.”
“Well said, Mrs. Herrera,” Quinn whispered in her ear. “Let’s hope the book reviews are not too unkind.”
Selene rolled her eyes. “As if, Mr. Herrera. Everyone knows that, with your books, satisfying, page-turning fiction is a given.”
“Spoken like the truly devoted wife of an author.”
“Would you expect anything less?”
Quinn pretended to think about it, before giving Selene a kiss. “From you, baby, never!”
# # #
Following is a bonus excerpt of the bestselling legal thriller eBook, JUSTICE SERVED, by R. Barri Flowers. Available in Kindle, Nook, iTunes, and Google
PROLOGUE
She hid under the bed, carefully controlling her breathing. She didn’t move, not even a twitch. Her pink dress was dirty from the pine hardwood floor and her pink shoes were scuffed. The curls of her raven hair billowed around her head like a halo. She could see their shoes, moving around as if dancing to a tender love song.
Only she knew it was no dance.
And it was no love song.
She heard the sound of his fist as it smashed against her mama’s cheek. Her mama immediately crumpled to the floor like a rag doll, dazed and moaning. Blood spilled from a corner of her swollen mouth like a red stream.
Her mama’s face ballooned, her cheek shattered from the blow. One eye was swollen shut, protruding like a golf ball. With her good eye, mother and daughter made eye contact in a moment of sorrow and sheer terror.
She wanted to help her mama and save her from him. But she knew that she would be no match for his brute strength and drunken rage. In that moment of mental connection, her mama told her to remain still as the night so that she too would not face the fists and battering he had inflicted upon her.
With all of her willpower she closed her eyes tightly; her instincts telling her nothing would ever be the same again. Not that she ever wanted things to be.
Not this way.
Not with him.
When her eyes opened, her mama was no longer on the floor. She had been dragged to her feet and thrown onto the bed like a sack of soiled clothes.
“Bitch!” She heard him roar like a lion, hovering over her mama as if her shadow.
Then he hit her again. The blow must have been tremendous, for her mama’s dentures went flying across the floor like a bird, landing harmlessly beneath a chair in the corner. She was pounded several more times. Her mama’s blood curdling screams had turned to faint whimpers.
Then the bed suddenly sank to the point where she thought she might be crushed or cut by the jagged springs nearly touching her. It was all she could do not to make a sound, though inside she was crying as loudly as she could muster.
He had gotten on the bed with her mother.
“This ain’t over, bitch,” he spat. “Not by a long shot!”
She listened as she heard him unbuckle his pants.
“I’ll show you to smart mouth me. When I’m done with you, you’ll know who’s boss, and who ain’t nothin’ but a damned ugly assed whore!”
She could hear some rustling noises, heavy breathing, and groans—the last coming from him by the wicked deepness of it. She couldn’t bear to think of what he was doing to her mama. But she knew it was something awful. Something that would make her curse him even more than she already did.
When he was finished, she heard him roll over. Moments later he was snoring like a bear, the sound coming from deep within his throat, punctuated by labored breathing. She could hear no sounds from her mama, but suspected she was too afraid to even breathe—afraid he would wake up and continue hurting her.
She was also afraid. After waiting there paralyzed with fear for what seemed like an eternity, she nudged her way beneath the springs till she was out from under the bed. Her pink dress was covered with dust and blood from where her mama had fallen.
She stood up, intent on taking her mama away from him forever. But it took only one look at her to know this would never be. Her face was almost unrecognizable—horribly discolored and at least twice the size as normal. Her clothes had been ripped apart, exposing a frail thin body, marred with marks and bruises both fresh and from other beatings he’d inflicted upon her. Her legs were spread wide, blood oozing from between them, seeping onto the sheet like red dye.
Her mama’s eyes were wide open, as if held that way by toothpicks. Whatever life was in them had vanished forever.
Beside her, he lay naked in a drunken sleep, his breathing erratic and uncertain.
She felt the hatred in her build like steam in an engine. This was softened only by the love for her mama and hardened again by her feelings of helplessness and guilt.
She climbed atop her mother’s battered, broken, and bloodied body and lay there with her thumb in her mouth like it contained magical properties. It was as if she would be rocked to sleep and would wake up and find that everything was all right.
Deep down she knew that would never be the case. He had seen to that.
She began to hum a song she made up on the spot, som
ehow soothing her, no longer caring if he woke and hurt her as he had her mama.
After all, she could feel no greater pain, bleak darkness, or emptiness than she felt at the moment.
ONE
Judge Carole Cranston sat on the bench and banged her gavel. The courtroom immediately came to order on this late July afternoon. She was a no-nonsense judge who only wanted to expedite things as quickly as possible from trial to trial, preferring to be in the comfort of her condo overlooking the Willamette River in Portland, Oregon. It was especially nice at this time of year when the summer breeze came in and the sun bounced off the water as if too hot to remain in one place. She was reminded of trips to the Bahamas where she had fallen in love with Grand Bahama Island in particular. She could imagine herself maybe one day retiring to the Bahamas, Jamaica, or even Hawaii, and drink in its beauty and perennial sunshine each day for the rest of her life.
Carole returned to the present, realizing that at thirty-five years of age and three months, she was hardly able to begin thinking about retirement just yet. I wish. Not when she had a job to do—no matter how maddening and disillusioning at times—and people who depended on her to dispense justice to the best of her ability.
She turned her espresso eyes on the prosecutor. His name was Julian Frommer. He was in his early thirties, but looked about twenty-one with dirty blonde hair a bit too long, and a small goatee that looked almost taped under his chin. His wool navy suit was ill fitted on a tall, lanky frame.
“Are you ready?” she asked him routinely.
“Always, Your Honor.” He pasted a flirtatious smile on his lips.
But Carole had not even noticed as she turned her attention to the defense. George McArdle, fortyish, African-American, and built like a house, was already on his feet and showing off a three-piece tailored gray suit. His closely cropped dark hair had a slightly crooked part off to the side. He acknowledged her with a twinkle in his eyes.
Killer in The Woods: A Psychological Thriller Page 23
