Not Forgiven: A Thriller and Suspense Novel: Ungoverned Series

by Shawn Raiford

  He walked over to Marcos. "I'll send someone, with tools and a truck, over so all of you can start taking it apart. We'll ship all the parts to Mexico."

  "Si, Patron!" Marcos said.

  His eyes drifted and landed on the pendejo in his car. Happy wondered where Tony's glasses went. He chuckled. Dead men didn't need glasses.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Motherless Now

  Henry and Mitch found Brendan at home with Ethan.

  He and Mitch entered the house. Henry sat Brendan down and told him what had happened.

  Twenty minutes had passed since informing him. Brendan brought Ethan in and told him that his mother and little brother had been taken from them.

  "I'm sorry Brendan, Sarah was a very good woman." He had been in this situation more times than he cared to be, yet this was different. This was personal. Killing a woman and her child crossed the line. Only animals did such things.

  He and Mitch knew who was responsible for Sarah and Timmy's murder: Who ever dumped that body!

  Mitch opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something, but didn't say a word.

  The widower held his five-year-old son. They sat on an expensive sofa that reminded Henry of Rooms to Go, which made him in turn think of her.

  Cindy Crawford.

  His first TV girlfriend as a kid. He had told his wife, Julie, that if Cindy came calling one evening he might have to leave her, but would always be there for the kids.

  In turn, Julie told him that if Mark Wahlberg came calling, she wouldn't even pack a bag.

  The little things got him through each day. Henry loved his wife so much he would be lost without her.

  Henry and Brendan were friends for a few years, but weren't that close. Julie and Sarah were close friends.

  A few years ago, he and Julie originally met Brendan and Sarah in a Thai cooking class they took at Houston Community College. It was Julie's mother's idea to take the class after Julie told her mother about an argument she and Henry had. Her mother's philosophy was, food cured all problems.

  Now he had to tell his wife about her friend and son.

  Ethan, still dressed in his pajamas, looked at him. "Mr. Henry, where's Hascal?"

  Henry smiled at the little boy. He had to hold back the tears. The boy was motherless now like Henry was after his mother died.

  Henry leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Ah, buddy, he's in school. I'll tell his mommy, she can bring him over so you guys can play."

  Ethan smiled and nodded.

  Brendan hugged his son. "Ethan, you can go to your room. I'll be in there in a few minutes and we can play with your toys."

  "Okay, Daddy," Ethan said, then walked to his room.

  Once his son left the living room, Brendan turned back to Henry and Mitch. "What am I supposed to do? I still can't believe Sarah and Timmy are gone."

  His eyes were wet with disbelief. Despite the fact he dealt with death on a daily basis, Henry could not imagine what Brendan was going through. He would need someone to help him with taking care of things. He asked, "Do you have any family you can call, Brendan?"

  He nodded. "My sister and my brother and his wife live here in Houston. My parents live in Florida."

  Mitch would push, Henry knew, Brendan to call his sister first. Women were way better in these situations than men were.

  His sister would come over and figure out what to do.

  "If you want, I could call your sister for you and ask her to come over," Mitch offered.

  "No, I'll call her. She's really good with Ethan," Brendan said, turning at his son entering the room again.

  Ethan walked up to Henry. "Do you have a police badge, Mr. Henry?"

  Henry smiled at the boy, pulling out his shield. "Yup, here it is." He handed it to the boy.

  Ethan handled the badge like a precious gem. "It looks cool, right, Daddy?"

  "Yeah, buddy it does."

  Ethan glanced up. "When will Miss Julie bring Hascal over?"

  "Well, Hascal's mom will bring Hascal over soon, son."

  Ethan handed the badge back. "Is it true Mr. Henry, that my mommy was killed?"

  Henry's heart sank twenty feet. "Yes, she was, but the thing you have to remember is that she loved you very much. She told me that the last time I talked to her."

  "Mr. Henry, do you have a mommy?"

  Bad memories flooded his mind. Henry had a basic recollection of his mother. There was a particularly odd memory as a baby that lingered. The memory was one when Henry was about a year old, walking and crying, because he had a dirty diaper. With a smiling face, his mama picked him up and changed his diaper.

  It always made him smile when Chloe talked to his kids about their abuela. "Your grandma loved cooking for me and your dad. I helped her by making salsa."

  "Did you ever make it spicy?" Heather had asked.

  "Yes! Always, because your dad didn't like salsa that was too spicy. One time I made it really spicy and your dad put some on his tacos and bit into it and his eyes got really big and he started to dance around, waving at his mouth!" She stood up, her eyes big, and waving at her mouth. "Then he started whooping and hollering! 'Mama, esta picoso! Me enchile!'"

  Heather and Hascal understood some Spanish because Chloe had told them that story a million times. The sad thing, for Henry, was that he didn't remember that ever happening.

  Ethan's eyes oozed innocence. "No, I'm like you, Ethan. My mom was killed when I was around your age."

  "What did you do?"

  "I was a little boy like you, so I couldn't do much about it. I think about her, and I still miss her. I wish she was here so she could meet my children, Heather and Hascal, and if she was here, she would be able to meet you too."

  Ethan became quiet after that, walked over to his father. "Daddy, I miss mommy and Timmy."

  Brendan hugged his son tightly. "I know son, I do too."

  Doing his job meant dealing with death, and the best way to manage that, Henry allowed mental images of family members to ease into the forefront.

  His wife's face entered his mind. Julie was a great partner and a better mother. His kids came next and he wished he spent more time with them.

  Julie reminded him that she wanted another baby the other day. He liked the idea of a bigger family. Recently he had been busy on a couple of cases, putting in a lot of overtime, and Julie had been working the graveyard shift. If they had more kids, they would have to make the time.

  Brendan excused himself and took Ethan to his room. He returned a couple of minutes later.

  He stared at both inspectors. "Guys, I don't need to tell you that if you catch whoever did this, please just kill him, save me from having to do it. I don't want the scum to be breathing air in some prison for years, with a chance of getting out someday."

  Mitch responded, "Brendan, don't think about that right now. Focus on taking it day by day. And remember, Ethan needs his father more than ever."

  Shaking his head, Brendan exhaled. "When do I go ID her bo..." He stopped talking.

  Henry thought he would cry, but Brendan held it inside. People deal with death differently. "Hey, don't worry about that right now."

  He nodded.

  "Why don't you call your sister, find out if she can come over here."

  He called Julie. She handled the news better than he thought she would. "Julie's at work, but she said she would pick up Hascal from school and would come over."

  Brendan nodded in acknowledgement.

  Mitch's phone beeped. He glanced at his phone, then up at Henry. "It's Lehaney."

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Hoped For An Invitation

  The first time I met Sarah she kissed me in the bathroom at Henry's house.

  We were both drunk.

  Biting her bottom lip, she apologized. I told her not to apologize, drawing her body and lips back to mine. I wanted to go down on her right then and there, but she declined—told me that she wouldn't be able to remain quiet.

&nbs
p; "You should come over to our house later," she told me.

  I reached inside her shirt, under her bra, fine-tuning a nipple. "Would your husband be okay with this?"

  "I mentioned, earlier, that you were hot, and he asked me to make a pass at you."

  "It's good to have permission." I removed my hand from under her shirt.

  We left the bathroom and joined the others. We all had a great dinner. Julie made Chicken Puttanesca with angel hair pasta, pairing the dish with white wine. Julie made everything from scratch. She got out flour and eggs and made the pasta and got all the herbs from a farmers market, including the tomatoes, Kalamata olives, and capers.

  Everything tasted great.

  Sarah and I told Julie that if nursing didn't work out for her, she could definitely become a chef.

  Later that night I ended up at Sarah and Brendan's house.

  We lounged in the living room where Brendan had fallen asleep. Sarah and I talked for a while. She found me fascinating, and I found her irresistible.

  Ever since I turned twenty-one, or thereabouts, I had to be drunk before I had sex with a man. Shrinks, all of them, agreed my inability to have sex sober was due to my bad memories of monsters having their way with me when I was a kid. Duh! Their big, disgusting hands on me. Their stubbled faces rubbing on my face. Big monsters who didn't care if I cried and begged them to stop.

  The first time I actually wanted to have sex with a boy, I was seventeen. The boy mounted me and I flashed back to Kenneth Parnell, I freaked out, and punched him.

  As I got older sleep eluded me. Too many bad dreams. Alcohol helped me to sleep, and over time I discovered I could sleep with men after a few drinks.

  Sarah and I sat on the couch and she made the first move. Coaxing me to the bedroom, she led me by the hand. Brendan was not mad at us for waking him.

  Then she undressed me, gently kissing me. After she made her way south to my nether region, I came in about five minutes.

  Brendan had a dad bod, a shade thick with a little belly, and he was sexy when naked.

  Sarah laid down on top of me; we made out again, Brendan studied us. She was gentle and did everything I wanted. No images of monsters bombarded my mind, even when Brendan joined us.

  The next morning I woke up on the couch with four little eyes staring at me. The eyes belonged to two little guys in Spider Man and Incredible Hulk pajamas. Their mussy hair and puffy eyes told me they'd just woken up.

  The mind-blowingly cute boys made me wish they had me as their mother for about a second and a half. (A long time for me)

  The smaller boy waved and the bigger one whispered, "Hi."

  My head was killing me, yet the skin on my face stretched into a smile. "Hi, good morning."

  The little guys smiled back.

  "My name is Chloe, what's yours?"

  "My name is Timmy," whispered the smaller one.

  "And I'm Ethan."

  Being so cute, I wanted to grab them and eat them up. "I'm your mommy's and daddy's friend. They let me spend the night last night."

  They stared at me, not saying a word. I figured they were accustomed to joining their parents in the mornings, but I was a stranger and the boys hoped for an invitation. "Would you like for us to join your parents?"

  Both boys nodded and giggled.

  I was fully clothed and escorted them to the master bedroom, Brendan was already awake.

  Ethan ran over to his dad.

  "Hey buddy."

  Sarah woke up, pulling the cover over her head. "Why are you guys here?" Sarah asked sleepily, miffed. "Go back to your own bed."

  They were still at that age where they were used to being babied. "They wanted to meet me, because I'm the coolest!" I gave them hugs.

  That happened about a year ago.

  Now, at the moment, I scuttled down an alley. The cell phone that I threw inside the drive-by car was in a garage located in a neighborhood outside Loop 610, North of I-10. I could see it on the Find-My-Phone app on another phone and found a street view on Google Maps.

  Stopping at the back of the garage, I peeked around the side. Two guys guarded the back of the house.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  A Tight Squeeze Indeed

  The back chain-link fence ran along the back of the property line and stopped at the neighbor's property, which was lined with a wooden fence. The chain-link fence butted up against the garage's exterior wall.

  The app indicated that my phone was inside the garage.

  The garage was a small A-frame structure, big enough to hold two cars. Maybe. One car no problem. At the top of the A, under the top of the roof, a small window. About two foot by two foot, perhaps a little bigger. Tight, but I could fit through it.

  Climbed up onto the fence, then I realized the problem.

  Once I got up close to the window, I noted that the window extended outward from the top. So, I had to enter the window from above, a tight squeeze indeed.

  Upon further inspection of the window the glass itself could be removed easily, so I did. I jumped off the fence, chucking the glass gently to a patch of high grass on the other side of the alley.

  Climbed back onto the fence, I gazed through the glassless window and noted a flat surface under the opening. It appeared to be the top of some shelving. I grabbed the top of the roof and did a reverse sit up, bringing up my legs.

  Fitting through the window was a task. My boots entered through the pane less window no problem, but my ass was a different thing. Good thing my abs were used to being worked out. To fit my backside and hips through took me half a minute. My mid-section and shoulders fit through no problem. I was on all fours on the top shelf. My eyes needed a few seconds to adjust to the darkness.

  Not much else in the garage besides a toolbox on the left wall and a couple of bicycles hanging on the right wall.

  A big blue tarp covered something. I checked underneath and found the drive-by car.

  I jumped off the shelf and turned around. Three shelves held small boxes, jars filled with various kinds of nails, and screws and nuts. Motor parts sat on the bottom shelf.

  I found the drive-by car when I searched under the tarp. They'd left the shooters' bodies inside the car.

  I opened the back door and checked inside, finding my phone on the floorboard under a corpse's left Nike.

  It still had a decent battery charge.

  I used the flashlight on my cell phone so I could see the bodies better. The body sat hunched over, near the passenger door, had a single shot in the chest.

  I took a picture.

  "Must've hit the heart." In other words, one moment life existed, the next moment darkness.

  I took another picture.

  Exiting the car, I opened the front driver's side door. The body lay in what appeared to be an uncomfortable position. The corpse's face was missing.

  With horns tattooed on his forehead, I figured this guy had no problems getting dates. "Wow, so sexy! I bet you got all the ladies, didn't you Mr. Horny."

  The cause of death: missing face.

  I took a picture.

  The real cause of death was their willingness to kill Sarah and Timmy. I doubted they intended on killing Timmy, but they did—so they gave up the right to breathe. And everyone else connected to these dead guys. They will all die.

  I reached inside my jacket and pulled out a rose, placing the flower on the dashboard.

  The garage entrance, two wooden doors, was closed. Two holes about halfway down both doors, a chain threaded through both. I couldn't see, but a lock secured the door on the other side.

  I pulled a pair of brass knuckles from my front jean pocket, placing them back in my pocket. Just making sure I had them.

  I doubted that there was only one man guarding the house and the drive-by car. There had to be others inside.

  Used my shirt to clean the two spots I'd touched inside the car, plus the door handles.

  Exiting through the garage window, I moved to the corner of the
garage and peeked around the corner. A banger sat on the back porch, smoking a cigarette. He wore a black baseball hat, a red loose-fitting jacket, and baggie jeans.

  This would be easy peasey Japaneasy.

  My fingers eased through the rings of the brass knuckles.

  I walked forward in the alley.

  The banger could see me now.

  Without looking the thug's way, I jumped over the fence quite easily. Walking a few feet closer to the house's back door, I stopped when I glanced up. "Oh! Hello. Who are you?"

  His eyes examined my body. "Everybody calls me Spider, but you can call me Papi, Mami."

  Spider stood approximately fifteen feet from me. I needed to subdue him expeditiously before anyone else came out.

  I made a kissy face and took two steps towards him. "Okay, Papi."

  He smirked, as if he had game.

  My eyes met his. "This is my boyfriend's house. Are you his friend?"

  His face showed naughty thoughts danced around in his head. "No, this ain't your boyfriend's house. This is my house."

  Stepping closer to him, I gave him a flirty smile, looking him up and down. The hand that wore the brass knuckles was in my jacket pocket.

  Spider did not move, wanting me to come closer. Handsome but had a stupid red spider web neck tattoo. This dumb ass most likely received a lot of attention from ladies, but today he would receive the wrong kind.

  Were all men this stupid?

  A high pitch giggle escaped my mouth. "You caught me. Maybe, I got the house wrong."

  "What do you mean?"

  Moved three steps closer. "I make big, strong men like you, glad to be men." I winked. "Understand, guapo?"

  He nodded, no doubt fantasizing about me on all fours in a bed inside the house, taking turns on me with his homies. Boys were too easily distracted.

  "Fifty bucks and I'll suck your dick."

  He dropped the smile, stepping to me. "Nah, you suck my dick and I might give you five bucks!"

  He stood three feet away—within striking distance.

  Batting my eyes, I giggled. Spider didn't see any potential violence in me; in other words, he made the biggest mistake of his young life.