“No, Jessica has essentially retired from profiling, and as for her husband, well, he’s just not the man he once was.”
***
At that moment, Jessica’s husband was walking up his driveway as he headed out to the county road that went by their property.
In normal times, he would have been dashing through the woods at a steady run, but these were not normal times and after covering only a short distance, he began to limp badly, as his left foot protested the exertion.
He chose the roadway because he thought it would be easier than traversing the uneven ground of the trail through the woods, and still his foot ached. He ignored it and pushed on, determined to walk at least to the top of the hill before turning back.
The world around him looked dull and slow. He was a runner, had always enjoyed moving his body at a high rate of speed and the languid pace of his limping gait made him feel as if he were moving underwater.
He heard them before he saw them, rough voices amid raucous laughter, and after cresting the hill, he spotted them.
Bikers, or more likely, a group of wannabe toughs,
They wore leather vests striped in red, white and blue, and their motorcycles were painted with the stars and stripes. When he first caught sight of the four men, one of them had his broad back turned towards him, and on the vest, he could see the words, American Rebels.
They stopped talking when they spotted him, and their eyes gleamed with delight, a glee that was normally found only in the eyes of a schoolyard bully.
“Hey, Limpy, what are you doing walking out here, did your car break down?”
He ignored the man, knowing it would likely anger him and the others, but he was damned if he was going to respond to the name, “Limpy.”
“Hey, asshole, I’m talking to you.”
The man was the biggest of the four, with very broad shoulders, and was as tall as he was, after running over and blocking his path. The other three joined him, and although shorter, they were all muscular.
“I asked you where you were going.”
“Get out of my way,” he said, and as he uttered the words, he felt a fire in his veins that had been absent for too long.
The big man shoved him, and although he managed to clutch onto the punk’s wrist, he still stumbled backwards because of his bad foot. Then, a boot found his knee and more hands shoved, and in an instant, he was on his back and taking kicks.
He thrust an arm upwards and heard a gasp of pain as his fist made contact. He tried to rise, but his left foot bedeviled him once more and he was only able to make it to his knees.
Even as several kicks landed on his ribs, he freed the knife from his boot and slashed out with it, causing howls of pain. After what seemed like an hour, he finally made it back to his feet, only to find that the American Rebels also carried knives, and all four of the blades were slicing the air before him.
He was about to jam his knife into the big one’s neck when the man pointed down the hill.
“Cop! Let’s go.”
He kept his eyes on them, ready to fight, but the men all rushed over to their bikes, and as they went, the big man called back over his shoulder.
“I’ll remember you, Limpy.”
He looked down at the road and saw dual trails of crimson drops. Apparently, he had wounded at least two of them with his blade. He slid the knife back in its sheath as the bikers roared off down the other side of the hill, and then he turned to find a police car pulling up beside him.
The cop was young, not much older than Jace, and when the man stepped out of the car and spoke, he felt as if he knew him, although he was certain that he had never laid eyes on him before.
“Mr. White, are you all right, sir? I’m Officer Brewer, Alan Brewer.”
“We’ve met?”
“In a way, I was there the day you got shot.”
“Yes, I’ve heard Jack and Traci mention you. You’re dating Jack’s daughter, Alexis.”
“Yes sir,” Alan said, and then he spotted the blood. “Are you bleeding, sir?”
“It’s not mine, but there was a group of bikers here before you came, and we... had a disagreement.”
Alan studied his face, and grimaced as he saw the welt on his cheek and the lump rising above one eye.
“I see they did some damage. Would you like me to take you to the hospital?”
“No, and I won’t be making a report either.”
“I see, but at least let me take you home.”
He started to say no, but his foot felt as if an ice pick was jammed through it, and the last thing he needed was to aggravate the already stubborn injury and have it take even longer to heal. The beating had hurt his ribs and the struggle had left him weak and sweaty, as his stamina and strength had not returned to the extraordinary levels they had been at before the shooting.
He nodded in agreement to Alan’s offer of a ride, climbed into the passenger seat of the police car, and felt like a helpless invalid.
CHAPTER 18
Fort Worth, Texas
Numerical wanted to jump for joy when he spotted Cassandra step off the escalator and head towards the tea shop inside the mall.
He was seated on a bench three storefronts away, which sat opposite a women’s clothing store. Shopping bags were at his feet, and on the bench beside him were a flowery tote bag and a pink denim jacket, such as a woman might wear. He looked like just another husband who was waiting patiently for his wife to emerge from a store.
Cassandra glanced his way as she entered the tea shop but paid him no attention, and he repaid her in kind by pretending to read a newspaper.
When Cassandra left the store a few minutes later, he rose off the bench and began following her. The shopping bags, the pink jacket, and the flowery tote stayed behind. They were all props that had served their purpose, and now the hunt had begun once more.
Numerical grinned like a fool as he followed Cassandra, while fantasizing about the moment when he would finally slip his blade between her ribs.
***
After thanking Alan for bringing him home, Jessica tended to her husband’s injuries, while checking twice to make certain that nothing had been broken.
“Maybe you should have filed a report,” she said.
“No. I’ll settle things myself someday.”
“I don’t want you going out and looking for trouble.”
He stared at her.
“I didn’t look for it, it found me.”
She kissed him.
“I don’t want to fight. How’s your foot, does it hurt?”
“Yes, but it’ll pass.”
“Maybe I should stay home tomorrow, hmm?”
She was scheduled to fly to Chicago the next day to appear on The Jerry Schneider Show, something he was opposed to, but also knew that it was something she wanted to do.
“No, you go, and I’ll be fine. I don’t like the Schneider show, but he does have a wide audience, and maybe it will help us finally locate Michael.”
She snuggled against him.
“What do you think Michael is like?”
“I don’t know, but Amanda says he was gentle.”
“He’s a man now, and hopefully a good one. The last thing we need is another Jeffrey Mitchell.”
“When I was wounded, I remembered things, things about Jeffrey, and they weren’t bad memories.”
“Hold on to those, and hopefully, someday soon you’ll make new memories with your brother Michael.”
***
Summervale, North Carolina, 8:59 p.m.
Alice was working late at the diner while her aunt watched Alice’s daughter, Kimmy.
It had been a rainy day and the tips were light, but at least the rain had finally stopped falling. She was alone, as the last customer had left nearly an hour earlier, and it had been so quiet that she had already bagged the day’s take and locked it inside the safe in the back.
The grill was cleaned and cooling, the coffee makers shut off,
and the floor swept. She had let the short order cook go home early and was getting set to leave as well.
Alice grabbed her purse, and was about to shut off the lights when her neighbor, Rich Chandler, came through the door.
Chandler was a decade older than Alice, but he had the build of a man who stayed in shape, he also had bloodshot eyes above reddened cheeks and Alice could tell he was drunk.
“Hi there, neighbor,” Chandler said.
Alice sent him a tight smile and took two steps back as he lurched through the doorway, causing the bell hung above it to tinkle.
“Hello, Mr. Chandler, I’m sorry, but I was just closing up for the night.”
“That’s all right; I don’t want food. I came here to see you.”
“Why?”
Chandler grinned crookedly.
“You know why,”
Alice did know why. She had caught Chandler leering at her more than once, and this was not the first time he had visited her at the diner, but it was the first time that they were alone.
“You should go home to your wife, Mr. Chandler.”
Chandler’s eyes roamed over her.
“Damn you’re a hot woman, why don’t we go somewhere and get real neighborly, hmm?”
Chandler moved closer and Alice prepared to strike him, but halted as the door opened, causing the bell to ring again.
It was the baldheaded man who lived with the Chandlers. When Rich Chandler spun around and saw him standing there, he seemed to wilt.
“Drake, goddamn it, were you following me?”
“Of course not,” Drake said. “But why don’t we go home and leave the young lady alone.”
“I wanted to spend some time with her. There’s nothing to do in this damn town and she’s the best looking thing around.”
“Leave here now.”
“I don’t want to.”
Drake stepped forward and gripped Chandler’s neck, just above the collarbone, causing the younger man to cry out in pain, afterwards, he leaned his face an inch from Chandler’s.
“You’re going to do as I say, or else, understood?”
Chandler nodded his head quickly and Alice could see a shiver of fear pass through him. A moment later, the two men headed for the door, and as the bell chimed once again, Drake turned in the doorway and stared back at Alice.
“There’s no need to mention this to your deputy, now is there?”
“No,” Alice said, and although Drake’s words weren’t threatening, their tone was.
Drake smiled a fake smile.
“Goodnight,”
Alice stood in the doorway and watched them go, more intrigued than ever by the strangeness of them.
CHAPTER 19
Dallas, Texas, 9:12 p.m.
Numerical lay on the ground outside the home that he had followed Cassandra to earlier that day, as she left the mall after leaving the tea shop.
As near as he could tell, there were at least five women in the house, and every one of them was young and fit. The smallest one, a woman named Kelly, looked to be no more than fifteen, but Numerical knew that looks could be deceiving.
The home was large and its nearest neighbors were over a half mile away, while a highway was nearby on its left side. He had gone about the house the night before and found that every window was locked and the rooms beyond concealed by thick drapes. Only one basement window allowed him a view inside through a slight gap at its side, but the view revealed much.
He could only look in with one eye at a time but could see enough to know he had uncovered their arsenal, as rifles and guns sat ready for use inside an oak gun cabinet, but the thing that bothered him most was the corkboard on the wall next to it, a corkboard that held one of the photos the FBI had of him.
While it was true that the photo was a joke and that many men could fit his general description, it still reminded him of his own corkboard at home, where he hung pictures of his future victims. The photo made him feel like prey, and well it should, because he was certain that these women were hunting him.
His wasn’t the only photo on the board, for beside his picture were several photos of a man with long blond hair. He thought he knew the man, although he had never seen his face, it was one of the apostles, the one Prophet had named John, and it made his blood run cold to think that these women fully intended to kill both of them if given the chance.
Numerical pulled himself up from the gritty walkway, brushed himself off, and traveled back to the car he had stolen earlier that day. Once he was settled behind the wheel, he took out his phone and made a call.
When John answered, it surprised him, for he had expected to be able to leave only a message.
Although he didn’t have the skill to track down the man calling himself Prophet, he had been able to trace the IP addresses of the apostles, and from them, discover their physical locations, He had never revealed that he could find them, and was taking a chance by contacting John.
“This is a friend calling; do you recognize my voice, John?”
There was silence on the line, then, the sound of a door closing.
“My name isn’t really John, but if you have my number I guess you know that too.”
“I do, but I’ll keep calling you John anyway.”
“This call has me freaked out a little. What do you want from me?”
“I would never cause you trouble, I think you know that, but I have information you need.”
“Does Prophet know about this call?”
“Prophet doesn’t know anything. Andrew was right, John, there is a group of women actively hunting our type down, and I’ve not only seen one of them in action, but I also know that you’re the next one on their kill list.”
Numerical heard silence on the other end of the line and knew that John just needed time to take in the implications of what he had just been told. When John did speak, Numerical could hear the fear underscoring his words.
“What can we do about this? I mean, it’s not like we can call the cops and file charges.”
“I say we take the fight to them, all of us. I know where the bitches live and we could hit them at home when their guard is down.”
“It sounds good to me, but you’ll have to convince the others.”
“It shouldn’t be hard to do, and once we have these bitches at our mercy, we’ll show them how a true predator behaves.”
“Who’s behind them? Do they have a leader?”
“If so, I haven’t identified her yet, but that’s just one of the questions I’ll be asking.”
“Asking who?”
Numerical took out his knife and studied it, as its edge glinted in the moonlight.
“Her name is Cassandra, but when I get through with her, she’ll be known as Number 51.”
CHAPTER 20
Summervale, North Carolina
Alice squinted at the rising sun, as she crept closer to the old fire lookout tower that sat rotting atop a hill deep in the forest near Summervale.
The tower had been built over a century ago as a lookout point for forest fires, but had been replaced a by a new metal tower constructed on the other edge of the forest.
The old, wooden tower was eighty feet high, and there were signs on all sides of the leaning structure warning people not to climb its decrepit switchback stairs.
Alice had been to the tower once before while hiking with her boyfriend, Rob, and knew many of the stairs were missing or rotted. Rob had told her that the only thing that kept the tower in place was the fact that the funds to tear it down and cart it away were always diverted by politicians to other projects or programs.
Rob predicted that the entire structure would someday collapse on its own, and Alice had agreed, which is why she found it particularly strange to see her neighbors, the Chandlers, studying the tower as if they were planning on moving into it.
The bald man, who Alice had heard Rich Chandler call Drake, was actually climbing up the dilapidated stairs of the fire tower.
Alice had gotten a closer look at him when she saw him at the diner and judged him to be younger than she had thought, and likely fifty at the most.
His hairless dome had made him look older, and the way he moved up the tower, leaping over the gaps in the steps made her think he might be younger still, and had just lost his hair prematurely.
When he was halfway up, it occurred to Alice that the man would be in a perfect position to look down upon where she stood once he reached the top, and so she hid herself beneath a pine tree where she could still get glimpses of him through the gaps between the branches.
Alice had been keeping a watchful eye on her neighbors ever since the day she’d seen Drake firing the modified rifle that shredded the steel drum. She watched them sporadically at night from a basement window and soon realized that the bald man was also watching, as she often saw him scanning the neighborhood with binoculars from the attic window.
The Chandlers had done nothing wrong as far as Alice could tell, and she reasoned that maybe they were in Summervale for the same reason as herself, because it was a quiet little town and a good place to hide from the law.
She figured they were criminals of some sort, possibly bank robbers or some sort of heist crew, and although she worried that Rob might have to confront them someday in his role of deputy, she seriously doubted it.
The Summervale bank was small, served no large institutions, and handled no substantial sums of cash. The other businesses in town were equally small-time and there were no jewelry stores or fur vaults.
If the Chandler’s were robbers, it was far more likely that they would target something in the neighboring town of Northridge. Northridge had a greater population, six banks, and a new mall.
“How’s it look, Drake?” Rich Chandler shouted, and Alice jumped in surprise from the sound.
“The line of sight is excellent,” Drake yelled back, as he began his descent.
Rich Chandler was standing at the base of the structure when Drake reached the bottom, and he was shaking his head sadly, as he studied the ancient wood.
The TAKEN! Series - Books 13-16 (Taken! Box Set Book 4) Page 22
