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

by Remington Kane

  “I know that, but for Summer to blame me for it so many years later, well, it pains me.”

  Amanda ran a finger over Michael Storm’s name.

  “My sweet boy.”

  ***

  Edward had searched everywhere throughout the eight-room apartment and come up empty. He then searched again, before going into his vacant room and falling asleep on the floor.

  He woke to find the sun up and his clothing stiff with dried blood. After wandering into the living room, he stared down at his mother’s corpse, which was giving off a malodorous odor.

  The sight of her infuriated him, and he wished that he could kill her again for what she’d done.

  “What did you do with all my stuff, Mother?” Edward shouted, and then he kicked the corpse.

  When the body moved, he jumped backwards and knocked over a table, but then realized that it was likely just gas escaping the corpse.

  His mother’s pocketbook had been atop the table that fell over, and Edward turned to see that her wallet had fallen out. He picked it up to claim the money inside it, and found a business card.

  GRAYSON’S SALVAGE & THRIFT — WE TAKE ALL DONATIONS AND SELL ANYTHING & EVERYTHING!

  Edward read the address on the card and rushed towards the door. He was halfway to the elevator when he realized that he was still wearing the clothes he’d worn when he killed his mother. Although he’d still been wearing the raincoat he had on when he’d slain his latest victim, the attack on his mother was so violent and bloody that everything he wore was covered in blood.

  He rushed back to the apartment and headed for the shower. When he emerged from the bathroom free of dried blood and smelling of soap, he walked into his bedroom wearing a towel and cursed.

  His clothes were gone along with everything else he had owned.

  After calling his mother a string of foul names, he went into her room, where he found a jogging outfit of hers that fit him.

  However, her shoes were too small and the sneakers he had worn the day before were spackled with blood.

  Edward stood in the hallway wondering what to do when his eyes fell upon the pile of things he had tossed from the hall closet while looking for his missing lockbox.

  When Edward left the apartment, he was wearing a hot pink warm-up suit and a pair of old black winter boots.

  The warm-up suit had small pockets, and after slipping his ice pick up a sleeve, Edward was headed to Grayson’s Salvage & Thrift, where he planned to get his things back, and if anyone got in his way he would kill them.

  CHAPTER 13

  Michael Hobbs came up from the subway across the street from Grayson’s Salvage & Thrift.

  Sid Grayson, his employer, had fired him while he was being held for questioning in the Times Square Stalker case, and Michael was there to collect his final paycheck.

  Hobbs was actually glad that he’d been fired, because it led to him getting an easier job that paid twice as much. It also meant less commuting, since he and Bev lived in a rent-controlled apartment in Manhattan that was only a few blocks away from his new position.

  When Michael walked into the thrift shop, Grayson’s daughter, Mary, sent him a wide smile from where she stood behind the counter.

  The shop was cluttered with racks of clothing that sat on either side of a central aisle that led to the counter, while the shelves along the walls were heavy with used items.

  The counter had a glass case at its front where jewelry and electronics were displayed, and behind it was a curtain that led to a small back room used for storage. Also, there was a door in the storeroom that led to the junk yard in the rear.

  “Hi Mikey.”

  Hobbs smiled at the girl. Mary was seventeen, a blonde, and worked in the thrift shop after school and on Saturdays.

  Hobbs knew that her father was likely in the salvage yard behind the building, and he could hear the sound of the car crusher flattening one of the wrecks in the back.

  “Hey Mary, I’m here to pick up my last check.”

  Mary came from behind the counter and kissed Hobbs on the cheek. She was dressed in a sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers.

  “Mom told Daddy not to fire you, and I knew you were innocent.”

  “Thanks for that, but don’t worry, I’ve already got a new job.”

  The bell above the door rang as a customer entered the thrift shop.

  It was Edward, and when Hobbs saw the young man with the wild eyes wearing a pink women’s jogging outfit and winter boots, he looked back at Mary and saw that she too found the sight to be a strange one.

  Besides the clothes, Edward’s hair was still damp from his shower and looked like a tangled mess.

  When Edward spotted Mary, his eyes roamed over her. She was the type he liked to kill, but she was dressed in more modest attire than the girls he had murdered. He forced himself to ignore her and rushed towards Hobbs.

  “Do you work here?”

  “Not anymore.”

  Edward stared at him, as recognition lit his fevered eyes.

  “You’re that man the cops arrested.”

  Hobbs let out a sigh. He wondered how long he would have to deal with people remembering him being carted off to jail as a psycho killer.

  “What do you need, buddy?” Hobbs asked. He no longer worked at Grayson’s, but he still knew where everything was and he didn’t want Mary to have to deal with the odd boy.

  “Um, my mother donated a whole bunch of things by mistake yesterday and I want to get them back.”

  “Hey Mary,” Hobbs said. “Did you guys get a load of new items?”

  Mary moved closer, and Edward stared at her with an unblinking gaze.

  “There’s a bunch of new stuff in the back that Mom hasn’t gone through and inventoried yet, but it wasn’t donated. Mom said she paid for it all, and someone already bought the bedroom set, and there was a car too, but Daddy sold that.”

  Edward stopped staring at her and spoke to Hobbs again.

  “I don’t need it all back right now, just one thing, a metal box.”

  Mary smiled.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t give you anything today. Why don’t you come back Monday when my mom will be here?”

  Edward pushed Mary aside and headed behind the counter, where a curtain led to the back room.

  “You jerk, you can’t go back there.”

  Mary ran after Edward and grabbed his sleeve. Before Hobbs could act, Edward had spun around and slammed a bony fist into Mary’s face.

  Mary stumbled backwards to the floor with a bloody bottom lip, and Edward yelled obscenities at her as he brought out the ice pick he had hidden up his sleeve.

  Michael Hobbs looked on in horror as Edward dropped to his knees and raised his arm to strike.

  Mary was too stunned to realize what was happening, much less fight back, and so Hobbes tackled Edward, while grabbing his wrist, and struggling for control of the ice pick.

  That allowed Mary time to recover, and the frightened teen ran out the rear door in the shop while screaming for her father. Behind her, Michael continued to struggle with Edward for control of the weapon, but the boy’s madness gave him strength, and Michael felt the first of many cuts slice across his arm.

  ***

  Jessica inhaled sharply as she saw the bloody form of Michael Hobbs.

  Edward had cut and stabbed Michael over a dozen times during their struggle, and Hobbs was a bloody mess. Bloody, but alive, and being proclaimed a hero.

  When Mary had returned to the thrift shop with her father, they found Michael propped up against the counter and holding his stomach, where the worst of his wounds was bleeding profusely.

  The long gash across his abdomen looked nasty, but once the paramedics stopped the bleeding, he was no longer in any danger.

  The same thing could not be said for Edward, who was found near the door with the ice pick protruding from his chest. Had Michael jammed it a little to the left, he would have punctured Edward’s heart, instead of his
lung.

  After his lung collapsed, Edward had managed to make it to his feet and into the back room, where he spotted the lock box that held the souvenirs from his slayings.

  He was clutching the box to his side, and heading for the door, when he realized he could barely breathe and sank to his knees.

  He was reaching out for the doorknob when his vision began to shrink and the ambient sounds around him faded. Had he fallen forward instead of backwards, the ice pick in his chest would have killed him.

  Jessica and her husband had been riding with assistant DA Haskins in a car driven by the lead detective on the case, when word came over the radio that Michael Hobbs had been involved in a violent incident.

  They arrived on the scene as Hobbs was being loaded into an ambulance, and soon learned what had happened.

  “Mikey saved me,” Mary said to the first reporter on the scene, and then she was guided away to be interviewed by a police officer.

  Edward Frankel was initially deemed a disturbed young man shortly after the incident inside the thrift shop. However, by evening, the truth had become clear and Edward was revealed as the Times Square Stalker.

  One look inside the lockbox he was clutching told the tale, and when officers went to his home and found the body of Deanna DeMornay, his fate was sealed.

  ***

  Hours later in his hospital room, Michael relayed the story to his wife, Jessica, and her husband.

  He was being proclaimed a hero, and had already received offers from news outlets to tell his story.

  Bev beamed at him with pride.

  “My husband the hero, and it’s all over the news.”

  “It should be,” Michael said. “After all, a few days ago they were telling everyone I was a killer.”

  White reached out his hand and Michael took it.

  “I don’t know if we’re related or not, but I would be proud to call you my brother.”

  “Same here,” Michael said.

  They spoke a little longer and then headed for the airport, where they would fly to Austin, Texas to meet with Michael Wheeler.

  ***

  Outside the hospital, they ran into Assistant DA Haskins.

  “You were right, Doctor, the killer was young and he’s got a birthmark under one eye. It’s tiny compared to mine, but it does mark him as different.”

  Mr. White asked a question.

  “Has he confessed?”

  “Oh yeah, he did it even before he went in for surgery. The DA asked him why he killed the girls, and this kid Frankel looked at him as if he was stupid. ‘That’s what young girls are for,’ he said. If I had my way, I’d let him die, the little sicko.”

  They told Haskins goodbye and headed for the airport, and Michael #2.

  CHAPTER 14

  Robert Weaver looked around the courtyard of the motel where Summer was staying and made an observation.

  “This is nice, but I was expecting to stay in a hotel. I love room service.”

  Summer was an aficionado of hotel room service as well, but hotels had cameras in their hallways that would record your comings and goings.

  The motel had cameras as well, but only in the parking lot, and Summer had a way to get around those. When she left to kill Todd, she would leave by the bathroom window that was placed near the ceiling behind the toilet, and then make her way out to the street behind the building.

  Summer had greeted Weaver with a kiss when he arrived, and she hugged him as she smiled up at him.

  “I prefer hotels too, but I have to watch my money.”

  “Didn’t you get an advance for the book?”

  “Yes, but I gave Todd most of it; he needs it more than I do.”

  “You’re looking out for your ex-husband, that’s kind of you, and by the way, when can I interview him?”

  Summer took Weaver by the hand.

  “Let’s go inside, I have something to tell you.”

  They entered the motel room and Weaver placed his suitcase and laptop on the small desk between the windows. After Summer led him over to the bed, they sat, and she told him about Dr. Taylor’s belief that Todd was possibly suicidal.

  “It sounds like he needs help,” Weaver said. “But I’d still like to interview him. The book would be incomplete if I didn’t talk with him at least once.”

  “And you will talk to him, but not until tomorrow. I want to see him alone today and check on him. I also spoke to Jessica White about Todd, and she may suggest a doctor he can see when she returns from a trip.”

  “Dr. Jessica White? She’s in New York and was involved in the hunt for the Times Square Stalker. The cops have the guy too; I heard the news as I drove in from the airport.”

  Summer frowned.

  “Jessica has caught another serial killer? God, what a lucky bitch she is.”

  “How come you don’t like her?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “If you don’t like her, then why ask her for help?”

  “She lives here. I thought that maybe she knew someone who could help Todd.”

  “Maybe her father could talk to Todd.”

  Summer stood in a rush and began pacing.

  “That man only causes harm.”

  Weaver spoke in a soft voice as he asked his next question.

  “He hurt you when you were a child, didn’t he?”

  Summer stopped walking as if she had run into a wall. She then turned and stared at Weaver with eyes full of suspicion.

  “What were you doing in Chicago?”

  “I was doing my job, Summer. I spoke to your Aunt Janice about you, about your childhood.”

  “You did what?”

  “You heard me. You refused to open up to me about your past and so I had to go digging.”

  Summer crossed her arms and pouted.

  “She doesn’t even know me; I haven’t seen her in years.”

  “True, but she knew you when you were a child, and she told me about what happened with the boy you were friends with, and I know that Dr. James White ended your friendship with that boy.”

  A tear escaped, and then another, and Summer turned her back on Weaver while she wiped at her eyes.

  “You had no right to talk to my aunt.”

  “Like I said, I was doing my job, but I have news for you, something that you might like to know.”

  Summer sniffled and turned to face Weaver.

  “What is it you know?”

  “When I spoke to your aunt she couldn’t remember the boy’s name and—by the way, did you know that she was dying of cancer?”

  “No, Robert, I haven’t seen her since I was a child.”

  “Oh, well anyway, she called me as I was checking out and said that she recalled the boy’s name, Michael Storm, and I tracked him down. He’s single and still lives on the same farm. He had no idea that the little girl named Summer Kressley was now Dr. Summer Gray.”

  Summer’s face lit up.

  “But Michael remembered me?”

  “Oh yes, and he told me to tell you something?”

  “What did he say?”

  Weaver studied Summer, he had never seen her look more interested or appear so open and guileless.

  “Robert?”

  “He said to tell you that he loves you, and that you’ll always be his friend.”

  Summer gave a little laugh as her hands flew to her mouth, and then the tears came again.

  She sat in a wingchair and tried to get control of herself. Weaver walked over to her with an open box of tissues and she grabbed several and headed for the bathroom.

  When she emerged minutes later, her eyes were red, but dry, and she sat in the chair again.

  “Summer, your aunt said that your friend made a little figure that resembled you back when you were kids. Do you still have it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have to tell you Summer, this would make a great story for the book and with the tie-in to Dr. James White it could boost sales.”

 
“No, that friendship was the only pure thing in my life and I don’t want to put it in a book for people to make fun of... or worse, to misunderstand it, like they did before.”

  “This is a part of your past, Summer, and that’s what this book is meant to explore, your life story.”

  Summer flared up in anger and yelled at Weaver.

  “My childhood is off-limits, and you had no right to visit my aunt.”

  Weaver silently cursed himself.

  He should have brought up this subject after he and Summer had slept together again, but no, his goddamn journalistic integrity and nose for a good story had to be satisfied first.

  “Summer?”

  She ignored him, as she sat with her arms folded across her chest and displayed a petulant pout.

  “Summer?”

  “What?”

  “There will be a story about your childhood in this book. Now, it can be a sweet story about you reuniting with a childhood friend who you were separated from by a sad misunderstanding, or, I can spend several chapters on your father’s shortcomings. It’s your choice, and trust me, the publisher will back me up if I choose to go with your father.”

  Summer’s hands fell into her lap as she stared at Weaver.

  “You’re a bastard.”

  “No, I just have a job to do. What do you say, should we go visit your old friend, or do I take a closer look at your father and his criminal activities?”

  “You’ll write about my father anyway though, won’t you?”

  “That’s true, but there are ways to gloss over unpleasant things. Listen, I’m not trying to be a hard ass. The public sees you as a sweetheart and a story about you reuniting with a long lost love will—”

  “He’s not my long lost love! We were friends, just friends, and my father and Dr. White turned it into something dirty.”

  Weaver held up a hand in a conciliatory gesture.

  “I stand corrected. He’s your long lost friend.”

  Summer said nothing for a moment as she stared down at the carpet. When she raised her head to look at Weaver, she asked a question.

  “Is it true?”

  “Is what true?”

  “Did Michael really say that he still loved me and that we would always be friends?”