The TAKEN! Series - Books 13-16 (Taken! Box Set Book 4)

by Remington Kane

  “It sounds dangerous all by itself, is it?”

  “No, they used to use rubber bullets in the test, but after too many broken bones they switched to non-threatening devices. Despite that, the test is tough, he’ll be facing overwhelming odds, and I’m curious as hell to see how he does with it.”

  “I’ll pass it,” he said, and there was no braggadocio or false optimism in his voice, just stated fact.

  Lawson stood.

  “I’ll see you in Virginia in two weeks, okay?”

  “Yes,” Jessica said. “That should be enough time, and Robyn, I’ll call you between now and then and send you my behavioral analysis of Numerical, I’m sure it will differ greatly from the one you received from Summer Gray.”

  Robyn rolled her eyes towards the ceiling.

  “Literate would be a start, the woman can’t even spell.”

  He walked their guests outside to say goodbye while Jessica stayed with the children, and Lawson paused to watch Samantha shoot arrows at a target attached to a tree. She fired three times, and all three attempts were bull’s-eyes.

  Lawson turned to him.

  “Maybe she should take the test too.”

  “If she were fully grown, she’d pass it.”

  Lawson shook his hand.

  “I hope you pass, White, and you sure as hell look like your old self again.”

  “I never changed, not inside,”

  Samantha came to stand beside him as he watched Lawson and Robyn ride off.

  “Mr. White, are you going after another killer?”

  “Yes, and very soon,”

  Samantha giggled.

  “What’s funny?”

  “The man you’re going after, he’s dead, and he doesn’t even know it.”

  He thought, Out of the mouths of babes, and then he offered his hand, Samantha took it, and the two of them went inside.

  CHAPTER 30

  The Elite Care and Comfort Nursing Home in St. Augustine. Florida

  Numerical walked through the front doors of his grandfather’s nursing home while pondering how much to tell the old man.

  He had killed two victims since his last visit, but he had also just barely survived his attack on the PREY house.

  He decided to leave out the parts about PREY and let the old man see him as only a success, and anyway, Cassandra and her fellow witches would someday get what was owed them.

  His back still hurt, as did his knee, but he was sick of staying inside, and so decided to visit his grandfather.

  There were several nurses standing around the reception desk and staring at the little television that Numerical knew the receptionist kept on to relieve the boredom. Normally, he heard the drone of talk shows or infomercials flowing from it, but as he approached, he could tell that it was tuned to a twenty-four hour news station and that they were going on about some break in a “Top Story.”

  He smiled to himself and remembered the time a year ago, when he found an old VHS tape that he had recorded a program on in 1993. The program had been about the serial killer Ted Bundy, a hero of sorts to Numerical, and after the program ended, the tape had kept recording and captured the nightly news.

  The “Top Stories” from twenty years earlier were no different than the top stories today. Crisis in the Middle East, random acts of mayhem by terrorists, political scandals, weak economy, missing children, severe weather, tax hikes, and inane stories about celebrity antics.

  Nothing ever changes on this planet except for the names. The problems, pleasures, and sorrows, all stay the same.

  The nurses and the receptionist looked startled as they glanced up from the TV and saw him approaching. The lovely Louisa was among them, and was staring at him with a mixture of fear and sorrow.

  “Louisa, has something happened to my grandfather?”

  It seemed to take her a moment to gather herself, but she answered with a shaky smile.

  “No, Mr. Rafford, your grandfather is just fine.”

  Numerical relaxed and began breathing again, he’d been afraid that the old man had passed away. He took several steps towards his grandfather’s room and then felt the sensation of eyes upon him. He turned and saw that the women were indeed staring at him.

  Mr. Rafford? Louisa called me Mr. Rafford, not Henry; she hasn’t done that in years.

  Numerical walked back to the reception desk and watched the women scatter, all but Louisa, whose gaze had now turned to one of fascination.

  Numerical looked past her to watch the other women disappear down a corridor while glancing back at him, and once out of sight, their rapid footfalls indicated that they were running away.

  Someone on the TV mentioned his name. Not Henry Rafford III, but Numerical, however, when he looked down at the screen atop the desk, he saw his face, and it was like looking in a mirror.

  When he gazed back at Louisa, he saw that she had begun to weep, and then she raised up a hand that held a cell phone.

  “I... I already called.”

  Numerical stared at her, while wishing he were holding his knife, and afterwards, he gazed down the hallway where his grandfather was, knowing that he would never see the old man again.

  He spun around and ran out the doors, and was moving so quickly that he had to turn sideways to exit, as the automatic doors hadn’t fully slid back before he reached them.

  He was burned.

  His real name was burned and that meant that most of his money and resources were gone, including the home he kept in St. Augustine. He still had his other homes and identities; those were unconnected in any way to Henry Rafford III.

  He uttered a string of curses and damned Prophet’s soul as he climbed into his car. He had thought that Prophet only had the photos of him that he’d already seen, but obviously the man had taken many more.

  Damn you to hell, Prophet!

  He left the nursing home’s driveway in a screeching turn and was three blocks away when he passed a line of speeding police cars heading the way he’d just come, with sirens blaring and lights flashing their warnings.

  He wiped at his eyes.

  Granddad, oh Granddad,

  The old man was lost to him now, and even worse, his grandfather would likely wind up being transferred to a state-run facility where he’d be just another number, instead of receiving the best of care as he had been getting.

  Just another number? Numerical mused bitterly, the irony not lost on him.

  He kept driving, putting distance between himself and his past, and knowing that there was no way to ever go back again.

  CHAPTER 31

  Alice squinted against the bright sunlight, as she pointed up at the lookout tower with Rob at her side, as the two of them took note of the changes made to it.

  There were long metal mending plates where the wood had begun to split, and corner braces wherever two pieces came together. The pulley system that Alice had heard Drake speak of was there as well, and a long length of white nylon rope was weaved through it.

  Rob removed the baseball cap he was wearing to scratch at his head, as his face scrunched up in confusion.

  “What the hell could they be up to?”

  “I don’t know,” Alice said. “But it looks like they have plans to hoist something to the top of the tower, and it must have taken them hours of work to reinforce it the way they have.”

  “What kind of work do the Chandlers do?”

  “I don’t know. We’re neighbors, but I’ve only spoken to Mr. Chandler and the man named Drake, but Drake and I have only spoken once.”

  “And Mr. Chandler, you’ve spoken to him more than once?”

  Alice made a face.

  “Yes, or rather, he used to speak to me. I never told you this because I could handle him myself, but Mr. Chandler used to come into the diner and hit on me, and he even came there drunk once when I was alone.”

  Rob grew red with anger.

  “Damn it, Alice, you should have told me. I would have straightened the bastard o
ut for sure.”

  “Drake did that the night Chandler was drunk. He caught Chandler coming on to me, grabbed him by the neck, and made him leave. After that, Chandler would leer at me when I saw him, but he never came near me again.”

  “It sounds like this Drake is the alpha male in the house, but who is he?”

  “I don’t know, maybe he’s June Chandler’s brother, but they sure don’t look anything alike.”

  Rob’s phone rang. He answered it, said, “Yes sir, I’ll be there soon,” and put his phone away.

  “Who was that, the sheriff?” Alice asked.

  “Yeah, and Alice, he wants me to come in early today.”

  “There’s something else, isn’t there? I can see it in your face.”

  “He said some Feds were there and wanted to talk to me.”

  “About what?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  Alice’s breathing quickened, as she grew pale.

  Rob hugged her.

  “I’ll drop you at home and go see what it’s about. If you don’t hear from me by two, go to the cabin with Kimmy and I’ll meet you there.”

  “All right, and I’m so sorry,”

  “Sorry about what?”

  “Even if this is a false alarm, living like this, being afraid all the time, it’s a horrible way to live. I know, believe me, I’ve been doing it for two years.”

  Rob kissed her.

  “You’re worth it, and remember, you’re not alone anymore.”

  Alice kissed him back, while wondering if the kiss would be one of their last.

  ***

  Numerical didn’t like the way the store clerk was staring at him, no, he didn’t like it at all.

  Ever since the photograph of him came out, he felt as if he were being eyed everywhere he went. He had shaved his head, began growing a beard, and never went out without wearing sunglasses.

  The photo of him was everywhere and it was good, he knew it was a good likeness that captured him well, and until the beard grew in fully he would feel as if he were wearing a sign with his name on it.

  The clerk handed him his change and he left the coffee shop. When he reached the door, he turned to look back at the man and saw that he wasn’t paying him any attention.

  He sighed, as his nerves settled, but he swiveled his head about while on his way back to the pickup truck he’d stolen earlier, to make certain that he wasn’t being followed.

  The knee was good again and his back had finally recovered, even though he still felt a twinge of pain there when he worked out with weights.

  Prophet had sent him an email the night before, taunting him about the photo, and also with the news that Dr. Jessica White had joined the task force that was hunting him. Numerical knew enough about the doctor’s reputation to know that he should be worried. The woman had caught many of his kind over the years, and had a father, Dr. James White, who was responsible for catching several others.

  Numerical felt a surge of confidence as he climbed into the pickup truck. No one was going to stop him, not Dr. White, not the FBI, and certainly not those bitches in PREY, and as for Prophet, the wannabe leader of serial killers could just go to hell.

  Numerical knew that what he was on the verge of committing would not only make the authorities look foolish, but it would also place him securely at the top of any list of serial killers.

  He was in Illinois, and was parked across the road from a construction site on a college campus. The new school year was just days away and a flurry of activity was going on at a building that housed a sorority.

  The building was old, but it now had new windows, new paint, and new carpeting. The wiring had also been upgraded, and there were two vans sporting the names of two different electrical contractors on their sides.

  The rehab was almost done, but still needed a thousand final touches before it could be marked as finished, and over a dozen workmen of various trades were scurrying about.

  He spotted the food truck as it rounded the corner, and exited the pickup while grabbing a tool belt and hard hat off the seat. He was dressed in an old pair of jeans, scuffed work boots, and a T-shirt with the name of a plumbing supply house written on the back in script.

  He put the hard hat on, secured the tool belt, and made it inside the building just as the food truck, with its squat chrome body sparkling in the sun, parked at the curb, and blew its horn to announce its arrival.

  Numerical placed a cell phone to his ear as he went up the steps and pretended to be talking to someone. Most of the men he passed barely gave him a glance, and the two workers who did look at him askance still said nothing, nor did they attempt to halt his progress.

  He looked as if he belonged there, and just because they had never seen him before it didn’t mean anything, did it? And after all, the break truck was outside and if they didn’t hurry and get their food, they wouldn’t have time to eat and bullshit with the other guys before it was time to get back to work.

  Numerical made it to the third floor and found that the new outlet boxes had yet to have their cover plates put on, although the boxes containing the covers were among a pile of supplies in a corner awaiting use.

  He placed several listening devices along the outlets in the hallway and then covered them by putting on the new cover plates. He then did the same thing on the second and first floor hallways, as outside, the workers enjoyed their food in the summer sun.

  He placed a bug in the living room, the kitchen, and had just managed to replace the lock on the window in the downstairs bathroom, when he heard the stomp of boots amid the sound of voices, as the men returned from their break.

  He left out the rear door in the kitchen, but not before he went into the utility room, where the interior section of the ventilation system was installed. He took photos of the configuration and placement of the supply fan and he was ready to leave.

  He returned the friendly wave sent to him by one of the deeply tanned men laying down fresh sod in the backyard, before walking to his pickup, where he shed the leather tool belt and yellow hard hat.

  Minutes later, he was grinning as he heard the men moving about the house. The listening devices were working perfectly.

  Once the new school year began in earnest, more than sixty young women would occupy the sorority house. Sixty young, beautiful, vulnerable girls, all in one convenient place,

  He grew hard just thinking about it.

  Numerical drove away from the construction site with fantasies of mass murder dancing in his warped imagination, along with a desire to make history.

  CHAPTER 32

  Inside her office in Washington, DC, Robyn was discussing the profile of Numerical she received from Jessica with Russ Smith.

  Smith looked up from his own copy and blinked rapidly.

  “Did you reach the part where she underlined her predictions?”

  “I did, and yes, the words, ‘Mass Murder,’ sent a chill up my spine as well.”

  “Numerical has only killed one woman at a time. It seems unlikely that he would suddenly become a wholesale butcher.”

  “True, but his killing has been escalating in frequency in the past year, and she reasons that after the recent exposure of his identity that he would want to make a statement, and mass murder would accomplish that.”

  “Fine, but even if she’s right, what can we do about it? We can’t station an agent everywhere a group of women might come together.”

  Robyn gave it some thought, and as she did, she ran her hand through her hair. She had been wearing it short for a while, but stopped cutting it months ago and it was shoulder length and fuller. She liked wearing her hair longer, even if it was more work to maintain.

  And Thomas likes it too, she thought, as her mind conjured an image of Lawson.

  “Robyn?” Smith said, breaking her from her reverie.

  She looked over at him.

  “Yes?”

  “What do you want to do about this profile? Should we take her recomm
endations seriously, or just keep on as we are?”

  “I wasn’t always a fan of Jessica White, but I’ve come to see that she knows what she’s doing. Issue alerts to all women shelters, female fitness centers, YWCA’s and any other all-female organizations that have more than fifty... no, more than twenty members.”

  Smith let out a whistle.

  “That could number in the tens of thousands, maybe more,”

  “I know, and I also want an alert sent out to all law-enforcement agencies. I’ll write the alert while you compile the list of agencies and businesses to send it to.”

  “Be careful how you phrase the alert, or it could cause a panic.”

  “I know, but it needs to be clear that we consider it a real threat, and I’ll pass it by the Deputy Director’s office and get his input before we send it out.”

  “Smart move; and I’ll get right on that list.”

  Smith left the office and Robyn picked up the profile to read it again, and when she reached the words, Mass Murder, they chilled her once more.

  ***

  Alice answered her phone after seeing Rob’s name on the caller ID.

  “Rob, what’s happening?”

  “We’re good. The feds were from the Secret Service. Apparently, the Speaker of the House will be flying in soon to make a campaign appearance for Senator Harding. Harding was born and raised down the road in Northridge.”

  “I thought that visit took place in February?”

  “That was cancelled, but it’s on again now.”

  “Oh, okay, but why did they want to speak with you?”

  “They actually talked to everyone. They wanted to know if any of us would like to work the crowd during the speech, apparently there’s been some conjecture that Harding might be targeted by protesters, not surprising since he’s a good bet to be the next President.”

  “Are you going to do it?”

  “Yeah, we could use the overtime, right?”

  “We?”

  “Yes, we, maybe I’m being presumptive here, but I already think of you as my wife.”

  “Presume away, I’m yours, Deputy,”

  “How about I stop by after my shift and we watch a late movie?”