Deadly Relations

by Alexa Grace

  “Deploy them! And tell Andy to get the copter ready.” said Tim. If Damon Mason had Megan, Tim needed to get her checked out at the hospital as soon as he could. With her heart condition, he could take no chances. And if the son of a bitch hurt her, he’d pay.

  Adrenalin rushing through them, Tim and Blake raced from Lane’s office to put on their Kevlar vests and grab their protective helmets, while Lane did the same. They’d go up in the copter while Lane directed the SWAT team from the ground.

  In his cubicle, Blake ripped off his jacket and put on the Kevlar vest. He was about to call out for Jennifer when he noticed a post-it note stuck to his phone. He pulled it off and saw it was a message from Jennifer. Gone to do an errand? She couldn’t be serious. What was it about laying low did she not understand? That’s just what the killer wanted, for Jennifer to be out-and-about alone. Damn it.

  Blake fished his cell phone out of his pants’ pocket and dialed her number. As he listened, he heard a ringing sound from the other side of the cubicles. He walked to the other side and stopped when he got to Jennifer’s office. Her cell phone was ringing from where it was lying on top of her desk.

  Blake called dispatch to page Jennifer. “If she doesn’t respond, send out a BOLO for her. Tell deputies to stop her car and get in contact with me immediately. Her life may be in danger.”

  Blake headed for the stairwell and he raced up to the roof to the helicopter pad.

  <><><>

  Jennifer turned onto County Road 47, slowing down to adjust to driving on the gravel road. She couldn’t imagine what Dick would have wanted to tell her in a letter. He wasn’t a letter-writing kind of guy. Most of the time, she couldn’t even get him to use email to communicate at work.

  The last time she’d traveled this gravel road was the day they’d found Dick Mason, dead, his house filled with carbon monoxide fumes. The thought of Dick feeling so lost that he’d taken his own life filled Jennifer with sadness, and her eyes welled with unshed tears.

  Jennifer pulled into Dick’s driveway and thought she saw someone standing in the living room picture window. But when she looked again, there was no one there. As she drove closer, she noticed a tan and brown vehicle parked in Dick’s open garage. The word “Jeep” was written in large letters in the center of the black spare tire cover. A dark, ominous thought flashed in her brain. A tan and brown Jeep was the vehicle John Isaac saw parked along the road by his property the night Brianna Hayden disappeared.

  Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered Carly’s profile. The killer was very familiar with the areas parks and recreation areas. Who would be more familiar than a conservation officer? Her hand resting on her holstered Glock, Jennifer quietly opened her driver’s side door and crept into the garage. Painted on the Jeep’s door was a logo for the Division of State Parks and Reservoirs. Oh, my God. The killer couldn’t be Damon, could it? Not Dick’s son.

  She had to call Blake and get back-up. Jennifer patted each of her pockets. Where was her cell phone? She swung around to search for it in the SUV and slammed into the hard wall of Damon Mason’s chest.

  “What are you doing out here?” asked Damon.

  “Oh, nothing. Just wondering where Dick’s car was.”

  He responded quickly. “Sold it at auction about a month ago.”

  “Oh, that explains it.”

  “Does it?” He eyeballed her suspiciously as he pulled his service revolver out of his holster, pointing it at her. “I’ll take your gun, Jennifer.”

  Jennifer hesitated, weighing her options.

  “Now!” he shouted. “Pull it out slowly, place it on the ground, then gently slide it over to me with your foot.”

  Jennifer bit her lip, slid her Glock out of her holster, and did what he asked. What choice did she have?

  “So what’s going on, Damon?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough. Go into the house.” Holding his gun against her back, he pushed her up the porch steps and through the open front door. He closed and locked the door behind him. “Oh, I nearly forgot. We have another guest that I’m sure you’ll want to see.”

  Jennifer arched her eyebrow questioningly. “Who?”

  Instead of answering he shoved her toward the kitchen. In the center of the room, on a long oaken table, lay her mother, fully clothed, but unconscious and restrained with duct tape.

  “Mom!” she screamed. She ran to her mother’s side, pulling at the duct tape so she could get to her wrist to check her pulse. “You fucking monster, what have you done to her?!”

  “Better watch yourself, Jennifer. You don’t want to get me angry.”

  “Why is she unconscious? What did you do to her?” she demanded as tears shot from her eyes.

  He just smirked and shrugged his shoulders.

  “You injected her with Rohypnol, didn’t you? How much did you give her? She has a heart condition.” Jennifer ripped at the duct tape on her mother’s wrist with her long fingernails until she could free one arm. She pressed her fingers on Megan’s wrist to find a pulse. She found one but it was very slow.

  Jennifer glared at Damon and said, “We need to get her to a hospital. She’s had a heart attack before, and I don’t know how the drug is affecting her.”

  “Sounds like you have a problem, Jennifer,” Damon said. “Now get your ass to the living room so we can have a talk. Then later, I’ll see if a good beating with a belt will wake Mommy. You can watch.”

  <><><>

  Blake and Tim watched from the police helicopter overhead as Lane reviewed Damon Mason’s background and suspected offenses — as well as the layout of the area surrounding his cabin — with his SWAT team. He also laid out two contingency plans to capture Damon Mason, one with hostages, and one without. Equipped with their weaponry, they got into a black van and headed toward Deer Run State Park.

  Flying ahead, the police helicopter was approaching Deer Run State Park when Blake’s cell phone vibrated.

  “Blake, this is Ginny from Dispatch with an update on your BOLO request. We have not been able to locate Jennifer Brennan.”

  “Thanks, Ginny. Tell them to keep looking.”

  “What’s that all about?” asked Tim.

  “Jennifer left me a note at the office, telling me she’d gone out for an errand. I tried calling her, but she’d forgotten her cell phone at the office. I put a BOLO on her, but no one has found her yet.”

  “So you’re telling me that my wife and only daughter are missing?” Tim raked his fingers through his hair. The women he held most dear were gone — both at risk from a serial killer who would not think twice about snuffing out their lives.

  <><><>

  Following them from the air, Blake and Tim watched as the van carrying the SWAT team parked off the road about a half-mile from the cabin. The officers jumped from the van and crept through surrounding wooded area until they were able to form a perimeter around the cabin.

  Blake’s heart was racing when he pointed at Damon’s cabin, as they hovered overhead. There were no cars in the driveway, but that didn’t mean the suspect wasn’t hiding inside.

  From the ground, Lane swept the length of the cabin with a pair of high-powered binoculars, but saw no movement inside or out. From the helicopter, Tim used the thermal imaging camera to make visible any objects that emit heat. Like Lane, he found nothing.

  Using a bull-horn, Lane urged Damon to come out because he was surrounded. When there was no answer, Lane signaled the team, which formed a single-file line, each person poised low-to-the-ground while approaching the cabin.

  On the porch, the point man breached the door and threw in a flash bang. The grenade exploded in a flash of light and a loud boom to disorient any suspect inside the cabin. As each team member entered the cabin, he or she quickly dropped into position in the area of responsibility Lane had discussed with them earlier. Soon they had cleared each room of the cabin. Damon Mason was not there.

  <><><>

  Blake’s cell phone vibrated again. Fille
d with frustration about not finding Damon, he yanked it out of his pocket and barked, “Blake Stone.”

  “Detective Stone, this is Carl Freeman. Do you remember me? I was Dick Mason’s neighbor.”

  “Listen, Mr. Freeman, this is not a good time.”

  “I understand. I guess I should have called nine-one-one,” Carl apologized.

  Blake’s curiosity kicked in. “What’s going on, Mr. Freeman?”

  “It could be nothing, but I just drove past Dick Mason’s place and there are cars in the driveway. I’m worried someone is breaking into the place.”

  Blake pushed the cell’s speaker button so Tim could hear the conversation.

  “Did you say there are vehicles at Dick Mason’s house?”

  “Yes, sir. There’s an SUV in the driveway and some sort of vehicle in the open garage that I didn’t get a good look at,” he explained. “Do you want me to go back and check it out?”

  “No!” Blake shouted. “We’re on our way. Don’t leave your house, Mr. Freeman.”

  <><><>

  Jennifer glared at Damon from the sofa in the living room, and cursed herself for the hundredth time for not waiting for Blake. How could she have been such an idiot! Now she was trapped by a sociopathic serial killer, and her mother may lie dying in the other room. She had to think of a way disarm him.

  Damon was pacing, going to the window to look out, then coming back. Then doing it again. He was showing signs of paranoia, which could work for her, or against her.

  “I know about your mother, Damon,” Jennifer said.

  “You don’t know shit,” he exclaimed.

  Jennifer spoke softly as if she sympathized with him. “I know she abused you. She beat you with a belt when you were just a child and couldn’t defend yourself.”

  “Shut up!” He swung around from his stance by the window.

  “It must have been horrible for you, with no one to protect you from her,” said Jennifer. “I know your dad felt terrible about leaving you behind.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. My father knew he was leaving me with a monster, but he left anyway. He cared only for himself.”

  “You’re wrong, Damon, he told me...”

  He cut her off. “So the old man felt a little guilt. So what? He abandoned me and didn’t give a flip about how I suffered in her hands. But he paid. I made sure he did. Once he sucked down that cup of valium-laced coffee and passed out, I turned his car on in the garage. Good-bye Daddy.”

  “You murdered Dick? You killed your own father?” Jennifer’s accusing voice stabbed the air.

  <><><>

  Tim talked to Lane from the copter. “We think Mason is at his father’s home on Route 47. Jennifer may be there, too. It’s at least thirty minutes driving the SWAT van, but we can cut that time in half by flying.”

  “We’re right behind you,” said Lane as he and his team ran back into the van.

  Tim turned to the pilot, “How many body harnesses do you have onboard?”

  “I mean no disrespect, sir,” Andy began. “But when was the last time either of you rappelled out of a helicopter?”

  “Not a concern, officer. How many?” Tim’s voice was gruff and demanding.

  “There are two special ops harnesses and two rescue vests in the back,” Andy replied.

  Tim searched until he found the two special ops harnesses and threw one to Blake.

  “I know the house,” said Blake. “Dick has a huge front yard, but it’s pretty open. Stretching from the small backyard, there’s about a mile of woods, then a clearing with a small pasture for horses. We can rappel there.”

  Tim nodded and Andy aimed the copter toward Route 47.

  <><><>

  “Your partner was a worthless piece of crap,” Damon exclaimed. “And so are you. I had you pegged the first time I saw you. You’ve been nothing but trouble to me. Do you think I don’t know it was you who sent those deputies to my cabin?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He moved closer to her until his finger was wagging inches from her face. “You’re a lying bitch, just like the others.”

  Jennifer used the opportunity to swiftly extend one of her long legs to kick the gun out of Damon’s other hand. It sailed across the room and they both rushed toward it. Her hand was within an inch of reaching the gun when Damon grabbed her left arm. She swung her right fist up, then crashed it down to deliver a hard blow to the bridge of his nose. Blood sprayed, and he staggered backward as she dived for the gun.

  Damon pulled at her feet, flipping her on her back. Big mistake. As she scooted away from him, he followed and she delivered a vicious kick to his groin. As he bent down, she chambered her fist, slamming it down to the cluster of nerves half-way between the side and the front of his neck.

  As he slumped to the floor, she grabbed his service revolver and ran to the kitchen to help her mother.

  <><><>

  Terrifying the two horses in the pasture, Andy lowered the helicopter so both Blake and Tim could safely rappel to the ground. Then he circled the area as they had asked.

  Once they jumped the pasture fence, the men entered the woods, wading through thick grasses, bushes, weeds and debris as they headed toward Dick Mason’s house. At the edge of the trees, Blake aimed the thermal imaging camera toward the house.

  “There are two people in the kitchen,” he whispered to Tim as he aimed the camera to the front of the house. “There’s one in the front room.”

  Tim pointed to the front of the house to communicate he was going in that direction. Low-to-the-ground, Blake moved to the back of the house. He angled himself to peer into a back window, but the curtains were closed. As he crept to the back stoop, he could hear Jennifer crying out. He kicked in the back door and came face-to-face with a revolver Jennifer pointed instinctively. She lowered the gun and he pulled her into his arms. That’s when he saw Megan Brennan restrained on the kitchen table.

  “Where’s Damon?”

  “In the living room, unconscious.”

  Blake rushed to the table to help Jennifer remove the remaining duct tape from Megan’s wrists and ankles. When Blake tried to pull her into a sitting position, she slumped back to the table.

  “He’s injected her with Rohypnol,” Jennifer said, as she placed her ear near her mother’s face. “Her breathing has slowed. She needs medical treatment, Blake. Mom has a heart condition.”

  They both heard a commotion in the living room, but before they could respond, Damon appeared in the doorway with his arm tightened around Tim’s neck, and a gun pointed at the sheriff’s head.

  Both Jennifer and Blake stiffened, but refused to lower the guns they pointed at Damon.

  “Let my father go,” Jennifer demanded. “Let him go now!”

  “Go to hell, Jennifer. I don’t take orders from a bitch,” Damon growled in return. “Put your guns down on the floor, or Daddy gets it. Then Mommy.”

  With her finger on the trigger guard, Jennifer held her weapon in the firing position. She moved into the firing stance, with her feet shoulder-width apart and her left foot a step past her right, her dominant eye focused on Damon’s head. “Not going to happen, Damon. My gun stays where it is. Let go of my father.”

  At an impasse, Damon’s eyes darted from Jennifer to Blake and then back.

  Just as Jennifer inserted her trigger finger into the trigger guard, Tim delivered a punishing elbow jab into Damon’s rib cage, then he dropped to the floor. Recovering quickly, Damon aimed his gun at Tim, but before he could pull the trigger, a bullet from Jennifer’s gun slammed into Damon’s head.

  Tim pushed Damon’s body off him, and checked his pulse. “He’s dead.”

  Blake took the gun from Jennifer’s shaking hands and slipped it in the back of his waistband. He then pulled Jennifer into his arms and held her until she stopped trembling.

  Tim whipped out his cell phone. “Andy, get that copter back here! My wife needs to be taken to the hospital.”
r />   <><><>

  Frankie and Lane had a “Thank-God-Its-Over” cookout on a beautiful spring day. Anne and Michael Brandt were already there, as well as Tim and Megan Brennan, when Blake and Jennifer parked in the driveway. In the backyard, Lane hovered over his top-of-the-line gas grill that Frankie surprised him with on his last birthday, as Tim supervised the grilling of the steaks. Frankie pointed to a huge cooler filled with ice, beer, wine coolers, and sodas, telling Blake and Jennifer to help themselves.

  Michael and Anne sat in patio chairs on the lawn, watching the kids play with the dogs. Little Ashley scrambled after a ball thrown for the Giant Schnauzers, Harley and Hunter, to chase, inspiring five-year-old Michael Brandt, Jr. to lecture her on the fine arts of playing catch with dogs. When Ashley’s face puckered up and tears filled her eyes, Michael Jr.’s twin, Melissa, hugged the little girl and told her she could chase the ball if she wanted to. Michael Jr. shrugged his shoulders to demonstrate his frustration, then joined his dad to debate the subject.

  Frankie asked Megan about her hospital stay.

  “The Rohypnol slowed down my breathing, so they gave me some oxygen and treated me with activated charcoal. I hate hospitals. I couldn’t wait to go home. I don’t know what all the fuss was about. I’m fine.”

  “Is it true about Rohypnol? That it causes you to forget what’s happened?”

  “I can’t remember a thing that happened after Damon Mason entered our home,” Megan replied. “I’m disappointed I missed all the exciting parts, like the ride in the helicopter to the hospital.”

  Tim joined them and said, “Personally, I could have lived without remembering all the exciting parts.”

  “Yeah, me, too,” said Blake. He glanced at Jennifer and wondered why she’d been so quiet all day. He put his arm around the back of her chair and stroked her arm gently with his fingers.