by J. E. Taylor
“All I need is a decent night’s sleep,” Chris mumbled.
“Getting old, there?”
Chris allowed the edges of his lips to curl into a smile at the dig. What he really needed was another fifteen years with Jessica. “I just have a few more things to do on the computer tonight.”
Steve nodded. He wanted to know where Kyle was, too.
Chapter 44
Sarah sat at the computer looking at Steven Williams’ dossier, her eyes wide with wonder as she scanned report after report of his heroics.
“Jesus,” she whispered as the pictures from the college fraternity case came up. The sinkhole in the woods filled with the dead in various stages of decay. She flipped to the next shot in the FBI report and was equally appalled. It was the inside of a crypt and the number of used condoms by the stone altar told more of a story than the police report did. The pentagram on the floor had smeared bloodstains as well. She flipped to the next shot and actually gasped. It was a picture of Steve on the lawn passed out over a woman. His back in shreds and the notes said he had walked for over a mile carrying the woman and nearly died from loss of blood.
She flipped to the next file, reading the entire report that accounted for his daughter’s death. His actions caused the killer to trigger the bomb. His shot missed.
Sarah sat back, wondering if the shot hadn’t missed, would his family be alive and well? The crime scene photographs attached showed Steve holding his wife, his face bloody and cut, a bone jutting out of his arm and his ankle twisted almost backwards. His wife lay in his arms with a piece of metal sticking out of her abdomen. The report said her head was bleeding, but with all the blood covering both of them, she couldn’t tell.
Her glance moved back to Steve’s devastated face and his single blue eye staring at the camera. Sarah leaned back, staring at the photograph. Two things occurred to her; Steve Williams was an extraordinary man and he had no trace of scars on his body from either ordeal.
Click.
“Oh, my God,” she said and saved the bookmark to his file.
She sifted through the police archives and pulled up the file for Chris Ryan and his family’s ordeal in the city five years ago scanning through the report until she found what she was looking for. The video showed him being whipped. She looked at the counter and opened the video, finding the particular spot and pressing play. She watched the video, cringing with each crack of the whip. She fast-forwarded to the point where his attacker sprayed mace in his eyes, blinding him. She froze the frame and zoomed in on his face, seeing evidence of a chemical burn around his eyes. She pressed play, stopping the tape as he turned his back to the camera. Again, she zoomed in. Smeared blood, but she could not make out a single cut. She went frame by frame until she got a side view of his face again. “Jesus.” She whispered. The chemical burns were gone.
Sarah flipped back to the picture of Steve, feeling like she was missing something.
She flipped back to the video of Chris, opening the report again, this time reading it all. When she was done, she looked back at the video in awe. The report said he was brought into the hospital with a twelve-inch butcher knife embedded in his back roughly an hour and a half before he showed up on the scene at the warehouse. “That’s got to be wrong.”
Sliding the chair back, she stood and stretched, glancing at her watch. Sarah picked up the phone. “I need a couple of days off,” she said to the sergeant. “It’s personal,” she added when she heard his breath suck in. The case she’d been on had gone cold and all she was doing lately was deskwork.
Sarah packed a bag and flipped open her checkbook, sighing at the meager balance. She flipped the checkbook closed and headed out, climbing into her car and heading north. Five hours and several phone calls later, she pulled into Brooksfield Mental Hospital and was met at the door by Dr. Montgomery.
“Thank you for taking the time to talk to me.” Sarah said as she flipped her badge open, handing it to him.
Dr. Montgomery took the badge studied it and handed it back as they entered his office. “What can I do for you Detective Connelly?”
“I’m investigating a murder and I believe the FBI agent whom I read about a few months ago was attacked by the same man. Is there any way I could speak with him?” she asked.
Dr. Montgomery’s eyebrows creased.
“Steve Williams?”
“He was never a patient here.” Dr. Montgomery answered.
“Oh.” Sarah blinked and glanced at her notebook. “Can you tell me where I can find him?” She looked back up at the doctor with a sweet smile.
“I believe he’s probably finishing up at Quantico by now.”
Sarah raised her eyebrows. “Quantico?”
“He was required to go through training again,” he clarified.
“Ah.” She flipped open her notes, scribbling a couple of sentences and closed the notebook. “Just a few more questions and I’ll get out of your hair. Do you know if Agent Williams had plastic surgery while under your care?” she asked looking up at Dr. Montgomery.
A line appeared between Dr. Montgomery’s eyebrows and he shook his head slowly. “No.” He answered.
“Then am I to assume Agent Williams has distinctive scars?” she probed.
Dr. Montgomery nodded.
“Can you elaborate?”
Dr. Montgomery took a deep breath. “I’m not at liberty to say, Detective.”
Sarah smiled. “Well, thank you for your time.” She flipped the notebook closed and stood up offering the doctor her extended hand.
Dr. Montgomery grasped her hand as he stood.
“I can find my way out.” Sarah smiled and walked out of his office.
Chapter 45
Sarah sat in her car looking at the cemetery. She took note of the mausoleum and refocused on Samantha Williams’ grave. She stepped out of the car and approached it tentatively, sighing as she read the dates on the gravestone.
“Are you a friend of Steve’s?” The voice made her jump. She turned and took in a gentleman wearing a pair of shorts and a tee shirt.
“A friend of the family,” she said. “You?”
The man nodded. “Harry Wagner.” He stuck his hand out.
“Sarah Connelly,” she replied. “Where do you know Steve from?” Her eyes narrowed.
Harry shuffled his feet and looked around. He finally looked back at her. “He was on the case that caught my daughter’s killer.”
Sarah glanced back at the grave. “Was Steve really as bad off as they say?” She shot him a sideways gaze.
Harry snorted. “Yes. He was.”
She turned toward him. “How bad?”
Harry sighed. “Bad but the last time I saw him, he looked pretty good. The transplant was impressive.”
Sarah tilted her head.
“Cornea transplant. He lost his eye last summer.” Harry shivered.
“Ah.” Sarah looked at the grave and then back at Harry. “It was nice to meet you.”
“You, too. Give my best to Steve when you see him,” Harry said.
Sarah smiled and nodded, watching Harry turn and head in the opposite direction. She sighed and gave the gravestone a last look before heading back to her car.
Sarah sat behind the wheel and punched the address in the navigation system. She pulled out, following the instructions and found the driveway almost hidden by the overgrown brush. Slowly, she navigated the twisting driveway until she pulled into the open gravel path that led to the charming lake cottage.
“This is beautiful.” She looked out at the lake and the mountains beyond, stepping out of her car. She focused back on the cottage, approaching and trying the door. It was locked.
Sarah wandered around to the front bay window and peered inside. The living room was void of furniture. She stepped back, glancing around, and her eyes landed on the path leading into the woods. Crossing the lawn, she hesitated at the opening of the path that wound out of sight. Sarah reached her toe out and tentatively stepped o
nto the leaf-lined path, following the trodden soil to the lush green barrier of moss that swept over the forest floor by the inlet of water.
The beauty of the cove struck Sarah as something you would see in those horrible fairy tales where everything was too good to be true. It was lush and vibrant and the water reflected the trees and clouds beyond like a perfect mirror. She stepped to the edge of the water and squatted, dipping her fingers in and creating a ripple effect in the mirror. The water was cool to the touch and for an instant, she could see the minnows scatter before the surface cleared, falling back to the reflection of the sky.
Standing, she glanced around again, taking notice of a small stream that cut through the edge of the moss and headed deeper into the woods. Sarah paused, studying the thick brush and decided against following the stream. She turned and headed back toward the cottage.
Sarah stepped onto the grass and turned to the gazebo at the edge of the water, sitting on the wooden swing and studying the cottage. The slow creak of the swing grated on her nerves and she stopped its lazy progress by planting her feet on the floorboards. With a last look at the peaceful setting, she got up, crossing to her car and getting in without further lament.
“Why don’t you have any scars?” she whispered as the sunset danced on the lake and she turned her car around.
Chapter 46
Steve paced the apartment floor as Chris typed commands into the computer. “Where is he?”
Chris glared up at Steve. “Chill,” he replied. He knew the general area where John Sheridan was but nothing specific. “I’ve finished moving the money,” he said and stretched his arms in the air. “Including wiping out the trail.”
“That took long enough.”
“I also maxed all the cards in his name,” Chris said and stood stretching the remainder of his body. His back throbbed from hunching over the computer.
“So where is he?”
“In Connecticut, but I haven’t been able to get much outside of a few post office boxes throughout Fairfield county. The residential address he gave is bogus and I haven’t been able to find his cell number,” he reported. “On the upside, he only has a couple of hundred dollars to his name and no back up credit.” Chris smiled. “I’ve planted a virus on his computer and once it’s triggered, his computer will be just a piece of expensive shit.”
Steve raised his eyebrows. “Really?”
Chris nodded. “With toilet sound effects and all.” Chris ignored the chuckling and took a seat again, typing commands into his computer.
Chapter 47
“What do you mean the money’s gone?” Kyle yelled into the phone. “Where the fuck did it go?”
“I, um, I’ll have to run a check on that for you, Mr. Sheridan.” The branch manager stuttered banging on the key board as fast as he could. His client’s ten million dollar corporate account was now registering a meager one hundred dollars.
“I want an answer NOW!” Kyle barked.
“The system shows that you authorized the transfer to an account held in Las Vegas sir.” He repeated the information displayed on the screen.
Kyle was quiet. “Las Vegas?” he asked.
“Yes sir. Would you like me to report this to Interpol?”
Kyle sighed. “No. I’m sorry.” He shuffled papers so it sounded like he was looking for something. “I thought the transfer was scheduled for next month. I opened the subsidiary account in Nevada and was transferring the business state side,” he said covering his tracks. He would get his money back, or his boss would be wearing a wide gap across his throat. “Did you already request the reversal?”
“Yes, sir, unfortunately the request came back denied. It looks as if that account is closed.”
“Can you give me the bank and account number the transfer went to?” Kyle asked. “As well as the name so I can check my records for verification of the account number I have?”
“Yes sir. Nevada National Bank, account number 986455623. The name on the account is Bondino Enterprises, LLC.”
“Thank you, that is what I was expecting,” Kyle said. “I apologize for my reaction. As I said, I wasn’t expecting the transfer until next month. Have a nice day.” Kyle added and hung up the phone. He paced the length of the apartment looking out over Long Island Sound as he got a grip on his anger. He flipped open his laptop and connected to the internet looking for flights to Las Vegas. He found one for a reasonable rate and plugged in his credit card.
“Order denied? What the fuck?” He plugged in the card number again, receiving the same results. He tried a second card with the same results, and a third. He stood, letting a guttural cry of anger peel from his throat. “I am going to kill that bastard!” He screamed at the empty room.
Kyle picked up the phone and dialed his boss. “I need to speak to Tony,” he said to the child that answered. He heard the shuffle as the phone was handed off.
“Tony here.”
“What did you do?” Kyle growled.
“Kyle?” Tony asked.
“Yes. What did you do with all my money?” Kyle repeated.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Tony said.
“Every last dime went into your Nevada National Bondino Enterprises, LLC account. And then it was all moved out,” Kyle explained. “And all my credit cards are being denied. What did you do?”
“Nothing.” Tony answered. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You’re leaving me out to dry?” Kyle asked.
“You’re the best employee I’ve got, why would I want to do that?” Tony replied. “Why would I piss you off like this?”
Kyle looked at the computer and back out the window as he thought about the question. He had enough to bring Tony Bondino to his knees, but the reverse was true as well. “If I find out you had anything to do with this, Tony, you are a dead man.” He hung up the phone, leaving his boss sweating halfway across the country.
Kyle sat down at his computer and ran the spyware program he had installed. Watching as it detected the normal items. He opted to delete each one manually and when he came across one he didn’t recognize, he skipped it, letting the computer continue to detect and request actions. An hour later, he had two programs that were installed that he didn’t delete. One was a monitoring program. When he requested more information, his screen went blank.
“Fuck.” Kyle swore. He pressed the escape button and the screen started swirling in a water pattern. He recognized the sound that went with the video. It was a toilet and his computer was crashing, everything was being sucked down the drain. The word that appeared on his screen made his blood boil. BUSTED!
Kyle slammed the escape button again and the entire computer died. He heaved it across the room and began to pace, going over who could have done this to him. He looked at the computer again and shook his head. “No fucking way,” he whispered.
Chapter 48
Sarah pulled into Brooksfield Hospital and parked her car. She flipped open her notebook and glanced at the notes she made before heading inside.
The ICU department was quiet. The guard outside Jennifer Williams’ door requested to see her badge and she had to wait as he requested a verification of her identification.
“All set Detective Connelly.” Agent Bartholomew Shays handed the badge back to Sarah and waved her into the room.
Sarah entered, finding Steve’s unconscious wife in the bed, hooked up to monitors and intravenous bags. Her chest rose and fell in consistent intervals, the beep of the heart monitor steady as well. Her color was high and she didn’t look the least bit atrophied like a comatose patient should after close to a year.
“Huh?” Sarah huffed as she crossed to the bed. Jennifer Williams was stunning and Sarah sighed. “So you’re the reason he wouldn’t sleep with me.”
A beep sounded on the brainwave monitor as Sarah spoke.
Sarah shook her head. “It figures.” She glanced around the room once more and then headed out. She had to find a hotel
. It had been a long day and she had more to look into in the morning.
Chapter 49
Chris watched the upload of data as his Trojan horse was activated by the spyware program on Kyle’s machine. He actually chuckled before he took a sip of his morning coffee thinking of the reaction of his adversary.
Steve was out for his morning jog when the discarded cell phone rang. Chris walked over to the couch and picked it up, flipping it open.
“I want my money,” Kyle seethed.
“You aren’t going to get it,” Chris answered, knowing full well who was on the phone and that his means of tracing the call had been destroyed with the computer.
“Who the fuck is this?” Kyle demanded.
“Your worst fucking nightmare,” Chris laughed at the confusion and frustration coming through the phone line, feeling a level of glee he hadn’t experienced in years.
“Where is Steve Williams?” Kyle asked.
“Out,” Chris answered.
Silence on the phone.
“Your tracer is disabled now,” Chris answered cheerfully.
“Fucking FBI.”
“No. I’m not with the FBI. I’m freelancing.”
Kyle met this reply with silence. “I am going to rain a world of hurt on you.”
Chris chuckled into the phone. He was enjoying this a bit too much. “I’ve dealt with your kind before,” he said.
“My kind?” Kyle asked.
“Twisted, psychopathic serial killer assassins,” Chris summed it up. “Kyle,” he said and smiled. “Or should I be calling you John right now.”
Kyle didn’t speak.
Chris smiled at the shock filtering through the line. “I’m coming after you,” he said.
“Who are you?” Kyle whispered, his voice carrying the first thread of fear.
“Ty Aris,” Chris said and hung up the phone.
Chapter 50
