Slaughter Series

by A. I. Nasser

  Listen, I really don’t care about all that. I called the person I thought was right, and I did my civil duty. Everything after that is on you guys. It’s none of my business.

  No, I do not care what happens to Agent Brians. If she’s in trouble, that’s her own friggin’ fault.

  No, of course not. Why the hell would I know where Alan Carter is?

  Chapter 2

  “You come highly recommended, Mr. Pullman.”

  Ivan Pullman gave the old man a small smile and adjusted his seating position, his eyes quickly bouncing off various parts of the office around him as he tried to better evaluate his newest client. The old man watched him carefully, and Ivan could tell that age had not dampened this man’s senses.

  “I hope I can do what it is you need done, Mr. Brewster,” Ivan said.

  William Brewster nodded in satisfaction and slowly pushed himself to his feet. Ivan watched the old man make his way to the mini-bar against a far wall and pour himself a drink.

  “I assume you have been brought up to speed with everything that has happened in Melington?” William asked, his back to Ivan.

  “I have,” Ivan replied.

  Ivan had seen the news, and before receiving the call a few days before, he had known that it would only be a matter of time before his services would be needed in one way or the other. It was the same with catastrophes like these. There was always someone responsible who needed to have that involvement covered up, and that’s where Ivan came in. When it came to tying up loose ends, he was the perfect man for the job.

  He knew the FBI was in Melington undergoing its own investigations, and Ivan welcomed the challenge wholeheartedly. Over the past fifteen years, his job had become more and more of a routine than anything else. Gone was the excitement that came with a new assignment, and Ivan had often considered retiring completely. This, however, promised to be different, and he could already feel the adrenaline pumping through him.

  “The Council cannot be implicated in any way to the riots or the kidnappings,” William Brewster was saying. “I believe you understand what needs to be done to ensure that.”

  Ivan nodded. “I’m going to need names.”

  William Brewster trudged back to his desk and settled into his chair slowly, forcing Ivan to smile. He could immediately tell that the old man was exaggerating his ailments. All he had to do was look into Brewster’s eyes, the cunning that radiated from the cold blues there, the immense intelligence that was simmering beneath the surface. The Chairman was not to be underestimated, and Ivan knew he would have to proceed with caution.

  “Your contact person from now on will be Elizabeth Gardiner,” William was saying, feigning exhaustion. “She will give you everything you need to get you started. As for compensation, work that out with her as well. I doubt there will be any trouble there.” William looked at Ivan over the brim of his spectacles. “Will there be anything else?”

  Ivan shook his head and stood up, straightening his back and buttoning his suit jacket closed. “I’ll be in touch,” he said, shaking the old man’s hand and walking out of the office.

  He was going to enjoy Melington.

  ***

  Sally Brians pulled up to the opposite side of the street from the Carter house and shifted the car into park. She turned off the engine, her eyes scanning the empty stretch of asphalt lined by quiet two-stories. There was a soft breeze blowing through the otherwise still night, but the summer heat still felt like a heavy shroud around her.

  “Hard to believe this town had a riot only a few weeks back,” Jeff Duncan commented from beside her, lighting a cigarette as he rolled down his window.

  “Smoke outside the car,” Sally said, flashing her partner a disgusted look.

  “Come on,” Jeff sighed. “The window’s down.”

  “Out.”

  Sally stared at the dark, looming presence of the Carter house, trying to imagine the life it must have housed before the family had faced one of the worst tragedies many had suffered from in Melington. She remembered her brief, how the Carters had left the town after their daughter’s abduction, and she knew that Alan Carter’s return could not have been a coincidence.

  Jeff leaned in from his side of the car and blew smoke towards her, forcing Sally to cough as she lashed out at him, her hands coming nowhere close to her target.

  “Very mature, Duncan,” she yelled at him.

  Jeff laughed as he stepped away from the car and blew more smoke out in small rings. He had only been her partner for six months. The man, four years her junior but with the mentality of a twelve-year-old. They had clicked fairly quickly, and despite his childish behavior, she knew that she could count on him to always have her back.

  She remembered their first case together, a murder spree that had led them across four states before finally coming in contact with their suspect. She had been taken by surprise, too tired and hell-bound on catching the murderer that she had let her guard down. It had been a mistake that would stay with her forever, and she had the stab wound in her side to refresh her memory if she ever forgot.

  Jeff had been on the killer in an instant, quick as a cat, his boyish attitude replaced by that of a no-nonsense agent as he took their suspect down. She had started seeing him in a different light from then on, and even now she was forced to admit that Jeff definitely added a little easiness to the job. Sally wasn’t used to taking things lightly; she had too much to prove. However, Jeff seemed to ease that stress, and she was prone to thanking her guardian angels for handing him to her.

  The only problem was those damn Lucky Strikes that stunk up her car.

  “So, are we doing this, or what?” Jeff asked.

  Sally nodded as she exited her car, closing the door softly. She had passed by the Carter house earlier before her meeting with the Sheriff, and she hoped that sending the Sheriff in the direction of the Coles would give her the opportunity to comb through the house without interruption.

  Sally led Jeff across the street, both agents scanning left and right to make sure no one was watching them, and quickly raced across the front lawn and around the house to the back door. Sally waited as Jeff pulled out a small pouch from his pocket and bent down to one knee, quickly working the lock.

  “Number thirty six,” Jeff mumbled with a smile.

  “You have to stop doing that,” Sally commented, keeping her voice as low as possible.

  “I do this to remind us,” Jeff winked at her.

  “I don’t need to be reminded,” Sally said.

  Ever since that first case, Jeff had fallen into the habit of counting how many times they had broken the law just to get forward in a case. The first few times it had happened had come from complete desperation, their only salvation being to forget about search warrants and take matters into their own hands. Sally remembered the pang of guilt that came with each one, but after a while, it had started getting easier.

  That’s how corrupt cops are made, she thought to herself.

  Sally shook her head. She knew what she was doing. She was in control of this. To her, the ends always justified the means, and between her and Jeff, the stories they made to cover up their findings always made sense.

  The lock clicked and Jeff smiled as he pushed the back door open, a rush of stale air escaping from inside the house. “Open Sesame,” he chuckled.

  “Grow up,” Sally replied, pushing past him and into the dark kitchen.

  Jeff followed suit, handing her a flashlight and waiting for her to lead the way into the house. They kept their lights aimed at the ground, hoping that no one from the outside would give the house too much attention and notice the soft lights within. Sally gestured to the hall and the living room beyond, and Jeff quickly turned off his own flashlight as he nodded and made his way forward. Luckily, there was enough illumination from the street lights outside to keep their need for the flashlight to a minimum.

  Sally scanned the kitchen, her beam bouncing off the cabinets and sink as she tried
to draw a mental image of Alan Carter and Deborah Adams sharing a home together. She had voiced her concern about those two from the get-go, and even though Jeff had been skeptical, he had slowly come around to seeing things her way. The fact that neither member of the two most important founding families was in town anymore raised enough red flags to make any investigator uncomfortable.

  She thought it was incredibly annoying that the town’s Sheriff wasn’t doing much about it. Sally was surprised to learn that no one had even thought of searching the house before. If not for Alexandra Bail’s obvious inexperience, Sally would have immediately accused her of trying to cover something up. Then again, maybe the Sheriff was just playing the fool. Nothing seemed to add up in Melington.

  Sally opened a few of the drawers, rummaging through their contents lazily, knowing she wouldn’t find anything of interest. The fact that the kitchen was spotless assured her the two had not been in much of a hurry to skip town. No plates in the sink. No leftovers lying around forgotten. Nothing. It was as if Alan and Deborah had actually taken the time to clean and lock up before leaving, which made it hard to think they were directly involved with whatever had taken over the small Connecticut town.

  Sally maneuvered the beam of her flashlight around and stopped when it settled on a door to one side of the kitchen. She retraced the shape of the house in her mind and assumed it led to the garage, remembering that she had not seen any windows on the side of the house which suggested the presence of a basement.

  She opened the door and shone her light into the spacious garage, slowly making her way inside. It was much darker here, and even with her flashlight, she could barely make out anything. Her hand found the light switch by the door and flicked it on, filling the room with sudden illumination that forced her to squint. Sally blinked and allowed her eyes to get used to the brightness before she switched off her own flashlight and began to take in her surroundings.

  The workstation caught her attention first, a large table with boxes on top of it occupying a large portion of the garage center. Sally immediately knew the room had been used for something other than housing cars, and her interest suddenly spiked. She made her way to the table, pushing the boxes apart as she read the labels on each, letters denoting an alphabetical organization of whatever was inside. She opened the first and her eyes grew wide as she pulled one file after the other out, spreading them out in front of her.

  “Jeff!” Sally called out. “Get in here!”

  She opened the first of the files as she listened to Jeff’s footsteps rushing back to the kitchen. The face of a young girl smiled at her from the photograph within, and Sally quickly scanned the reports attached, her hand shaking with excitement.

  “What is it?” Jeff asked, coming up beside her. He had something in his hand, and a quick glance confirmed it was a computer hard drive.

  “He knew,” Sally said, pushing the open file to a side where he could investigate it while she opened a second. “These are all reports and newspaper clippings about missing children.”

  “No way,” Jeff said, immediately opening a second box and pulling more files out.

  Sally scanned the report in her hand and felt a smile form on her lips. She looked across the garage at the drywell with holes punched in it. She ran a finger across the top of the report and felt for the staple holes there. Her heart skipped a beat; she was right.

  Alan Carter’s return hadn’t been a coincidence.

  ***

  “I don’t know how you can trust him.”

  Elizabeth Gardiner sat on the small couch in William Brewster’s office, sipping lazily from her drink as she watched the old man across the room. Her red hair was tied back in a ponytail that brought out her high cheekbones, a look that made her even more radiating than she already was.

  “I never said I trusted him,” William smiled. “However, he is a means to an end. We can deal with him once he’s done.”

  Elizabeth scoffed. “You hired him to do your dirty work, William,” she said. “I highly doubt you’re going to be able to deal with him.”

  “Our dirty work,” William corrected. “Let’s not forget we are all involved in this. It’s in the Council’s best interest that we quickly end all this nonsense and return to what is more important.”

  Elizabeth gave the man a sarcastic smile. “A new world order?” she teased.

  “You’ve always been the overdramatic type, Elizabeth,” William chuckled. “We’ve been under the mercy of the Coles and Adams for generations, always doing as we’re told for the greater good. Now, it’s time that era ended and we started making our own rules.”

  “We still have no idea what to do about Copper,” Elizabeth said.

  William waved her comment off. “Ivan will find what we need at the house. If he doesn’t, then we’ll have to go with the back-up plan.”

  “We have no idea what that might do,” Elizabeth replied, the concern clear in her tone. “Aren’t we better off binding him again?”

  William stood up and crossed the office to where Elizabeth sat. His movements were a lot swifter now that he wasn’t performing in front of an audience, and he sat down close beside her, a hand on her thigh.

  “We will,” William cooed, “and if it doesn’t work, I’ll make damn sure we chase that monster out of Melington once and for all.”

  Elizabeth gazed at William and the hand on her thigh before taking a slow sip from her drink.

  “Our children will be safe again. I promise you that,” William smiled.

  Elizabeth found this very hard to believe.

  FBI Report

  Alexandra Bail

  Alexandra Bail, 24 Apple High Drive, Melington, Connecticut.

  I am the acting Sheriff of Melington, Connecticut.

  After the riots.

  I was appointed by Chairman William Brewster after the disappearance of Sheriff Fiona Bright and the untimely death of Deputy Sheriff Liam Steel.

  Before being appointed Sheriff, no, I was not aware of that.

  Well, yes, of course. I had complete access to all files and reports after I was appointed. However, there was nothing that implicated Sheriff Fiona Bright or anyone else in any kidnappings or murders.

  Yes, I understand the current allegations against her and the former Council members.

  I was originally in charge of Tracy Turk’s disappearance until Sheriff Fiona Bright removed me from the assignment.

  No, I did not find it strange. The Sheriff was quite involved with everything going on in Melington. I assumed she had wanted to personally supervise the search.

  Yes, I was. I first saw Stanley Turk’s video when Deputy Liam brought it to our attention a few days before the riot. I didn’t think much of it; just some harmless call to action that I believed was very touching, but never thought would escalate the way it did.

  Yes, I was. Sheriff Fiona Bright had asked me to personally supervise the line alongside her. She gave me specific instructions not to use force against the rioters.

  I don’t recall who shot first.

  Yes, she did. But in her defense, it was a very critical moment and things had started to get out of hand. I don’t blame her for what she did to me.

  No, I was not aware she was looking for David Whelm.

  No, I did not know Rachel Adams was with her.

  No, Fiona Bright had never voiced her intentions to me. I was part of the search, after all. I wanted to find her as much as everyone else did.

  Agent Brians came to me as part of an investigation into the riots and the missing children cases.

  It was a very difficult time, and we had our hands full. The Council was breathing down our neck, and after the riots, a lot of people weren’t feeling very safe. Checking up on Sally Brians was not a priority.

  Actually, I’d shake his hand and thank him. I would have been dead if it hadn’t been for Agent Duncan.

  No, the Chairman never meddled with any of our investigations. I’m as surprised as you are to lear
n of his involvement with Ivan Pullman. It was stupid and reckless. The Council has always had unstable members leading it.

  Samuel Barrister is fit for his new position. Why else would the Council appoint him?

  I’m sorry, but Melington’s been filled with rumors for over a year, and maybe even before that. Whatever her relationship with William Brewster was, that’s between them and them alone. I’m not prone to speculations.

  Yes, of course it’s strange. People are calling it the Chairman Curse now. Personally, I worry about Samuel.

  No, I do not believe Fiona Bright was capable of murder.

  No, I do not know the whereabouts of William Brewster.

  No, I do not know the whereabouts of Alan Carter.

  Chapter 3

  Ivan Pullman made his way up the stairwell to the eighth floor of Melington Hospital. He almost felt entirely at home in the scrubs he was wearing. His ability to blend in with the rest of the hospital staff was a skill he had perfected over the years. He had grown accustomed to assignments which eventually led him to a hospital, and being able to use medical jargon and practically disappear amongst staff had become vital tools of the trade.

  This hospital was a joke, though, and because of their horrific security and high turnover, nobody seemed to question his presence here. That suited Ivan just fine. It was one thing to try and convince everyone that you belonged, but he quickly realized he could have walked through the front doors and finished his assignment without a care in the world.

  Still, caution was a necessity, and no matter how easy the target or how amiable the situation, he never let his guard down. Underestimating his task would result in imminent failure, and he could only count on luck so many times. Better safe than sorry.