Stroke of Innocence! (Denny Ryder Paranormal Crime Series Book 4)

by Deborah Bowman

  When the Doberman returned to his master, they’d gone inside to a roaring fire. Benny would dispose of the mess tomorrow. It had been too dark and cold last night to do much of anything. He planned to burn the body and personal effects since it was too frozen for even Dog to bury a bone.

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  The next morning Benny was unsettled by the nagging feeling that someone had been near his new hidey-hole last night. He rarely dreamed or at least didn’t remember them, but last night he’d kept wakin’up with the image of a child tucked under a tree just above the hunter’s cabin.

  After a quick breakfast, he started a big gasoline fire to burn the remains of the boy, now covered with snow from last night’s blizzard. The flame melted the bloody ice, letting the evidence seep into the thawing, porous earth.

  “There’s nothnin’ to fear,” Benny told himself and Dog.

  If anyone had been around last night, there’d be police, SWAT teams, and “bears in the air” checkin’ out his little slice of winter wonderland.

  After he was done and the fire contained, he knew he needed to start the big job of transferring the generators and heavy freezers from the truck with an electronic pulley system attached to the engine of the tractor-trailer, his own invention, to remove everything from the refrigerated cargo area.

  Secluded in the snowy hills, Canada had been his first choice for isolation, but gittin’cross the border t’weren’t as easy as many Americans believed. Besides, it had been too far away from Mexico with two kids to keep sedated and separated.

  His completely fabricated Internet records showed him owning tracts of land in West Virginia, Wyoming, and Maine.

  “Ha,” he laughed. “Good luck a’finin’ ‘em, ya’ stupid coppers, ‘cause they never, ever, existed.”

  He’d put his own pictures on the website established to find Jeremy Manchester in Ohio, showing useless run-down shacks, supposedly taken by the FBI. T’was easy to finagle anything in his world of computers.

  This place wasn’t his, but that made it even better. No one would ever think to look for him here.

  Yet, he was still a little apprehensive. Them a’comin’ so close to finding him in Evergreen after all these years had really spooked Benjamin Russo. He planned on taking a hike through the woods to make sure Dog hadn’t let him down.

  The little girl, Clarissa, hadn’t been afraid of Dog like the other kids had been, and worse yet, Dog had seemed to like her too.

  “Let’s go, Dog. We’re a’huntin’ for traitors to our cause.”

  Russo was convinced someone had seen him. Paranoia reigned supreme.

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  Chapter Seven

  “Hi, Denny, it’s Ted. Sorry I wasn’t able to talk to you ladies this mornin’ when ya’ called. Things have been a little crazy my first day back. I have some things to tell you and Kari.”

  “Yes, I know,” Denny breathed into the phone.

  “You know? What do ya’ mean by that, Denny?”

  “I had a dream last night. So did Clarissa. We saw Russo kill an American-Latino child. I think his name was Rod, Rodney, Rod-Rick. That may not be right. Russo doesn’t use names, ya’ know?”

  “No, Denny, you’re right. He abducted Roderick Lopez in El Paso. We were pretty sure it was Russo from the M.O.”

  “I see,” Denny replied vaguely.

  “Denny, are you okay?” Ted asked, his voice filled with concern for this special lady. Ted was thinking about the Stroke that had almost claimed her life while he’d been searching for Clarissa, who had almost died from exposure. His heart attack had resulted, but now he was more concerned about Denny having another Stroke or seizure.

  “Yeah, I guess,” she said hesitantly. “Worried about Clarissa.”

  Denny seemed okay, but somehow different—her voice flat and expressionless. This wasn’t how she sounded after the Stroke, when words refused to come. It was like she was adrift, far away from him. She’s shutting down, Ted realized.

  “Um, Clarissa,” he said quickly to fill the awkward silence, “What did she dream?”

  “Everything,” Denny responded.

  “Denny, talk to me. What is everything?”

  “Can’t say. Right now. On the phone.”

  “Where are you?” Ted pleaded. He’d finally reached her on Kari’s cell phone after the long morning. The Lopez boy was dead? Denny would know, and she’d be right.

  “At the Alexander’s,” Denny said with no emotion whatsoever.

  “Where’s Kari?” Ted insisted.

  “She’s here,” Denny admitted.

  “Clarissa?”

  “Finally asleep,” her voice cracked, holding in the tears.

  “I need to see you. We need to meet,” Ted said. “There’s two missing boys; the other from Mexico.” He rose from his desk, wanting to hit the road, but he didn’t want the rest of the precinct to hear this call. He remained behind closed doors.

  “I know. His name is Louis? No, that’s wrong,” she answered matter-of-factly.

  “It’s Luis—the Spanish pronunciation,” Ted confirmed. Luis Hernandez Aguilar.”

  “Yeah, that sounds better,” she agreed.

  “I need to see you,” Ted stated firmly.

  “Okay.”

  “Where? When?” Ted demanded.

  “Hold on, Ted. Dr. Irma is on her way here to speak with Sophia and Kirk. Mr. Alexander is on his way home from work. Kari called and talked to him about the remote viewing project and Clarissa’s dreams … ah, nightmares. Let me see, maybe you should be here too.”

  Ted heard the cell phone tap the top of a table or shelf. He tried to wait patiently, but this was Denny—the vibrant little redhead he’d helped to re-learn how to walk, talk, and smile again. He knew she wasn’t smiling anymore.

  The phone was picked up. He heard tender breathing.

  “Denny?” Ted was desperately trying to keep the fear from his voice.

  “No, Ted, it’s Kari. Yeah, I think you should join us if you’re up to it. How are you feeling?”

  Ted wanted to say ‘scared, defeated, and useless.’ Instead he mumbled, “I’m okay, Kari.” He cleared his throat of heavy emotion and continued, “We’re putting a Task Force together to go after Russo. He may be in Mexico.”

  “No, don’t think so. At least Denny and Clarissa don’t think so. It’s cold and snowing where … ah, the murder took place. Anyway, let’s not get into that on the phone. The Alexander’s live in Harrison Township. Know your way here? House number is 6835, Highland Street.”

  “Sure, on my way. What time is good?”

  “Dr. Irma and Sarah are on their way now. They left Wright-Pat maybe close to an hour ago? Can you make it in 15-20 minutes?”

  “Yep, that works,” he quipped. “Ah, is Denny alright? Clarissa?”

  “They both saw Russo, what he did, happened last night between midnight and 1 a.m.,” The RN said to avoid answering “how are they?” because she really didn’t know. Denny wasn’t talking much, just brief aside remarks to her alone. Clarissa was sleeping, Thank God. The little Kari knew about the dream was from Sophia, and it was too ghastly to comprehend.

  “On my way,” Ted said, understanding completely and pressing end-call on the screen. They’d finally convinced him to get a smart phone. He wasn’t used to it yet, but guess ya’ could teach an old dog new tricks.

  He slowed his pace in the hallway to press the return call number for Franco Valetti. He was going to talk to him as he walked out to the car. Valetti wasn’t going to want to hear this. They all knew how literal and exact Denny’s images could be. But Clarissa? When did this start? He knew she had the additional cortex in her brain, like Denny, but wasn’t she too young to have developed the remote viewing sight?

  Two rings, “Valetti here.”

  “I’ve got some news,” Ted said. “It’s not very encouraging.”

  He knew Valetti would accept Denny’s dream as gospel. The FBI had experienced her paranormal knowled
ge when Clarissa was missing and everyone, including himself, thought her dead. It was because they’d been able to find the five-year-old child in time to save her life—actually the EMTs bringing her back from the dead—that had convinced everyone of Denny’s unwanted gift. Hmmm … Ted’s mind was going a mile-a-minute as he spoke reluctantly to Franc. Maybe the near-death encounter brought on the dreams, like Denny?

  “It’s too late to help the Lopez kid,” Ted stated. “They’re somewhere cold and snowy. I’ll know more in an hour or so. On my way to Denise Ryder and Clarissa as we speak.”

  “Clarissa, the little girl?”

  “Yeah, she’s having the same dreams as Denny.”

  The line went mute. Ted heard Valetti’s quick intake of breath. “I know,” Ted said. “I’m on my way to the Alexander house.”

  “Call me back,” Valetti ordered.

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  Chapter Eight

  Clarissa had been asleep for a little while. At least she thought she’d been sleeping.

  Mrs. Ryder—ah, Denny as the adult allowed Clarissa to refer to “the pretty red-haired lady”—had told her she could stop her dreams while sleeping if she thought about it. She was so glad “Denny”—it made them seem like BFFs, near the same age—understood and knew how the dreams worked.

  She’d helped the child accept that they were dreaming about things that were really happening, but were so frightening that neither of them wanted to see the pictures.

  A new scene was pushing its way into her dream as the child struggled to wake up. Clarissa wanted to stop it, but she was tired, so very tired, and it was just too hard to make the sights and sounds go away.

  It was Dog she saw, the bad man’s big, black and brown doggie. Maybe this dream would be okay. Clarissa had really liked the doggie. He was supposed to be mean according to the bad man, but Clarissa didn’t think so. The Doberman, as everyone called the doggie, had liked her too. She just knew it!

  She watched the doggie sniffing around trees and rocks. It looked like the same place where she’d been in the dream last night, and there was even more snow everywhere. It was daytime and she could see better, but she couldn’t see the cabin this time. Dog was facing the dark woods that she had stumbled through barefoot. She was relieved that she couldn’t see the area around the cabin with the little boy’s body.

  Why did the bad man think he was helping kids to live forever when he killed them? It didn’t make any sense. Denny said he was a very sick man.

  Clarissa instantly jolted awake when she heard the bad man’s harsh, sluggish voice yell, “Dog, quit dilly-dallying!” The last thing she remembered was Dog yelping loudly. The bad man reached out and hit the poor doggie!

  She woke up crying, but not screaming. Dog and the man had been looking for something. Clarissa knew where they were—the same spot she’d been standing in last night during her dream.

  She hushed her tears. She didn’t want to scare Mommy and Daddy again. She was frightened that somehow the man would know she’d been there, and she didn’t want to watch him hurt the doggie. Dog and Tommy had been her friends.

  Clarissa must have made some noise that carried out of her pretty pink bedroom because when she sat up Denny was with her.

  “It’s okay, Clarissa. What did you see?”

  “Just the doggie. The bad man and Dog are searching the snowy forest for something or someone. I think they’re looking for me. He slapped the doggie. I don’t like him!”

  Denny wrapped her arms around the trembling child. “Maybe he is, Clarissa, but he won’t find you. You’re not there. You never were.”

  “Then why do I have scratches on my feet and hair gone where the owl chased me?”

  Denny couldn’t answer that question. She really needed to talk to Dr. Irma privately about … what would you call it? Trans-portation?

  Clarissa interrupted her fearful thoughts.

  “But he hit the doggie—that’s not right!”

  “No, it’s not, but let’s hope everything will be okay since there’s nothing in the forest for him to find. He needs Dog to help him so he won’t hurt Dog.”

  “Denny, did you dream about the doggie too? He’s really very nice.”

  “No, Clarissa, I didn’t, but I’ve been awake.”

  “But you saw the little boy and what he did to him?”

  “Yes, I did. The little boy is in heaven now, Clarissa, not with Benny and Dog. The bad man can’t hurt him anymore. He really can’t talk to those kids.”

  “I know,” the extremely intelligent five-year-old said. She laid her head on Denny’s lap. It made her feel better not to be alone with these scary dreams.

  Denny finally had to accept that Russo was intuitive as well as a genius.

  “Clarissa, do you think you can wake up now? I have some very nice ladies, actually doctors, to talk to you. They’ve helped me so much, and Ted will be here soon.

  “Yippy! I want to see Ted!”

  “Good. Let’s get you dressed up really pretty for Ted. He’s been sick, and it will make him feel better.”

  “I’d like that. May I wear a bow to cover the hole in my hair?”

  “Yes, a pretty pink one,” Denny said. She realized that the tiny little girl made her feel better too.

  “Denny, do you wear makeup like my Mommy?”

  “Yeah, sometimes. I didn’t put any on last night.”

  “I know. Will Miss Logan go get you a dress and some makeup before Ted gets here?”

  “I bet she already has something in the car,” Denny said.

  “Goody,” she laughed. Then her expression turned serious. “Denny? Are you really okay now? You couldn’t walk or talk or anything, but I guess I was that way too.”

  “Yes, Clarissa, I’m fine, and it’s all because of you.”

  The little girl smiled. “I love you, Denny.”

  “I love you too, Squirt.”

  That brought a giggle that carried into the living room, thus relieving worried parents and emphasizing the resilience of youth.

  Thank God for these amazing wonders!

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  Chapter Nine

  Benny and Dog had been searching for intruders in the forest for many hours. Russo was getting a little disgusted. He was cold and hungry too.

  He had so much to do, taking the smallest generator off the truck, which was a big job by himself, setting it up, priming it, calibrating the piece of machinery since it was so antiquated, but it got the job done.

  The big, modern stuff that could run a small town, an island, or numerous grids of broad city blocks had to be off-loaded by the electric pulley and lifting system. No one man could do it alone, not even with his superior strength and intellect, which had all been used for pre-planned emergency procedures. Russo’s plans had only been used once, just a few months ago. He’d been on the run ever since.

  Ben had to move his piper cub airplane. The police didn’t know that was how he and Dog zipped across the country to avoid detection. He didn’t know when he’d get back to it. It was close by, but he wouldn’t check on it until he was sure no one was watching.

  With the national news yipping on and on ‘bout Clarissa Alexander, whom the public had assumed had been kidnapped even though it was never confirmed—no ransom demand or pseudo witnesses like the boys who’d hung out with Jeremy Manchester in Good Hope, Ohio.

  Clarissa was lauded as a miraculous survivor to the one-car accident where her mother suffered a concussion, losing her memory of the events leading up to the crash. The child had been found in the hills of Colorado, and nobody knew how she’d gotten there. The crazy stories the kid was probably telling the cops would never jive with reality.

  Some people may have assumed the mother, Sophia, had done away with the five-year-old girl to get even with her unfaithful husband, who’d been out of town when the accident occurred. Benny just didn’t believe all this hogwash about a happy, adoring couple.

  Benny had seen the Alexander�
�s on TV at some stop he’d made before leaving the Dayton, Ohio, Area. Proof that mixed-culture couples never lasted or took care of their mongrel children. Benny hadn’t even realized Clarissa was part ‘whatever the mother was’—probably too light to be African-American, maybe middle eastern, or Indian/Pakistani. He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. All he knew from his looks was that the husband was boy-next-door, All-American Caucasian. No wonder he’d tired of his dusty colored wife.

  The five-year-old girl had wandered off either in a stupor or miffed at her rich, holier-than-thou parents. There definitely were no witnesses to Benny stopping them on the road, supposedly walking his dog.

  He’d hit Mrs. Alexander hard enough on the head with a baseball bat that she should have died, but someone came along and he’d had to hightail it out of there on-foot with the sedated kid, dropping the child-seat over an embankment. That way after the ambulance came, there was a window of time while the mother was unconscious that the highway patrol wouldn’t have known that a child had been in the car.

  The one thing that bothered Russo, however, was how Detective Collins, who’d investigated the Jeremy Manchester case, had gotten involved so quickly with Clarissa and followed him all the way to Evergreen, Colorado.

  Teddy-Freddy-always-ready had turned out to be a real problem. Benny had underestimated the slow-talking detective when he’d questioned him after liberating the Manchester kid, based on talk-talk-talk from the boys that Jeremy had known in his apartment complex.

  Collins had let Benny go, and Russo vanished completely for five months or so. He went back to the big city of Dayton to try and find out how they’d found Jeremy’s body. That’s when he realized some subversive tactics were being used against him.

  Benjamin Russo was confused and paranoid. Everything was getting all jumbled up in his mind so he couldn’t remember any more what was fact and was fantasy. He’d talked to somebody—oh, right, the general store guy in Evergreen—about Tommy being snatched. Yeah, Russo had been so blatant with that kid, the father bearing witness to his methodology and even seeing Dog.

  Things and lost children had gone smoothly for Russo for many years—freeing them poor little ones from the sins of the father. Had he gotten careless?