“Thanks.”
Rafe straightened up and tousled his nephew’s hair.
“Stick with me, kid, and you’ll be able to take care of yourself someday.”
And although he was very young, Jace knew that he wanted to grow up to be just like his Uncle Rafe.
TAKEN! W – THE ONE
(The events in TAKEN! W took place before the events in TAKEN!)
GEORGIA 2012
The young woman pounded the steering wheel in frustration as her new car died without warning.
“You piece of crap.”
She had paid $70,000 for the sports car just a week earlier and could not believe that it was giving her trouble the first time she took it out for a scenic drive.
She looked around and saw nothing but empty fields beyond the wooden fence she was parked beside.
When she took out her phone, she found she had no service.
“Great, just great,”
She got out of the car and gazed about again. She was tall and slim, but sensuous, and her long, dark hair fluttered in the breeze. She began following the fence, in the assumption that it must lead somewhere.
She had only gone a short distance when she heard a male voice call out, “Hello!”
When she turned around, she saw a man in his mid-thirties, of average height and size with dark hair and pale blue eyes.
He was on the inside of the fence. He wore Chinos, boots and a blue chamois shirt.
It wasn’t until the man smiled back at her that she realized she had smiled first. Smiling did not come naturally to her, and she wondered what it was about this man that prompted it.
“Hi there, you have car trouble?”
“Yes, it just cut off for no reason.”
“And let me guess, your phone doesn’t work either, am I right?”
“Yes, you are,” the woman said, and the smile left her face.
There were people who would love to kill her, and she was beginning to wonder if this was some elaborate plan to do so. She immediately put the thought out of her mind though, once she remembered that she had been unaware of the man’s presence until he called out to her. Had he wanted to kill her, he could have just shot her in the back.
“My house is just about a mile that way across the field; why don’t you hop the fence and follow me back there to use the phone.”
She looked around.
“Why are you out here?”
“Oh, I walk the fence line every day, it’s good exercise, and that way I know if there are any fence posts that need fixing.”
“You’re a farmer?”
“My daddy was a farmer; I’m just a guy who owns a farm.”
He smiled, and the woman found herself grinning back at him, even as she felt her heart beat faster. He was a good looking man, but the last thing she needed was a relationship. She was on the run and might have to move fast. Still, she found she couldn’t take her eyes off of him.
She studied him with more scrutiny and noticed the watch on his wrist. If it was real, he was one rich farmer.
“That accent, you’re from Brooklyn, aren’t you?” he said.
She nodded. “Yeah,”
“I love the way you talk.”
“And you were definitely born and bred here, I hear The South in every word you say.”
Again, they smiled at each other, as a comfortable silence grew between them.
The man pointed back at her car.
“She looks too new to be giving you trouble.”
“It’s a week old.”
The man looked lost in thought for a second, and then asked a question.
“Did you stop for gas recently?”
“Yes, only about twenty minutes ago.”
The man climbed over the fence.
“I think I know what your problem might be.”
He approached the vehicle with the woman following and began unscrewing the gas cap.
“There’s this condition called vapor lock, see, and if the fuel lines supplying gas to the engine become too hot, they’ll boil the gas in the line and turn it into vapor, and then the car stalls for a lack of real gas to burn.”
“But isn’t that only in cars with fuel pumps? This car has a fuel injector.”
“You know cars?”
“No, but I know a little about a lot of things,”
He screwed the cap back on.
“Well, vapor lock is rare in a car with a fuel injector, but what the heck, it’s worth a shot. There, if there was any vapor, it’s gone now, give her a try.”
She got back behind the wheel, turned the key, and nothing happened.
“Try her again,” the man called.
She did so, and the engine roared to life. She lowered the windows and grinned at him.
“Thank you, you saved me a ride in a tow truck.”
The man nodded, while suddenly looking sad.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“I’m an idiot, that’s what’s wrong.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We were getting along so well, and then I had to go and play Mr. Goodwrench, and now you’re going to drive off and I’ll never see you again.”
She laughed, she couldn’t help herself, she liked this man, liked him, and wanted to know him better.
“What were your plans after you finished walking the fence?”
“I was gonna head back to the house and have lunch.”
“Hop in and I’ll buy you lunch, it’s the least I can do to thank Mr. Goodwrench.”
The man grinned and climbed in the car.
“I’m George, George Carver,”
“I’m Lena, George, and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
TAKEN! X – THE DUPE
(The events in TAKEN! X took place in the days after the events in TAKEN!25)
Ronny Neth studied the naked body of Victoria Belle and felt his pulse race. He then took her picture with the cheap cell phone he’d bought that morning at a 7-Eleven.
He had found her two nights ago, lying on the bank of the swollen stream, and had thought she was dead.
She was alive, alive and wanted for murder, just as he was.
He’d no sooner carried her down into his fortress when the government troops trampled about the area. He watched them from an escape hatch he had dug out beneath a massive fallen tree, as they searched for Belle, then later chuckled as they called off the search the next day.
According to the propaganda channel that was playing on the TV at the store, the young woman before him was a mad killer.
Bullshit!
Ronny knew the truth, knew it because he lived through the same thing just ten years before.
While hitchhiking through Texas, he had come across a man bleeding to death in a car. Ronny had been a medic in the army before getting kicked out, and so he tried to help stop the flow of blood from the knife wound in the man’s chest, but it was useless, and the man died.
Ronny wasn’t a thief, but dead is dead and so he took a fresh set of clothes from the man’s suitcase, along with the envelope of money he’d found hidden between the underwear and socks. He had washed off the blood in a river before putting on his new clothes, but missed the smudge that a sharp-eyed cop had noticed, and before he knew it, he was charged with murder.
After breaking out of the jail with another inmate, Ronny worked a number of odd jobs under the table while getting deeper into a survivalist mentality, and now he lived off the grid completely, safe from the liars and the government storm troopers.
Belle moaned and he looked at her again, and again felt the stirring in his loins. Even though she was covered with bruises and had a nasty cut, she was still more woman than he’d ever had.
How long had it been since he’d had a woman?
It didn’t matter, the woman before him was hardly well enough for such activity. He covered her up with a blanket, put away the phone, and began heating up a can of soup.
When Bell
e spoke, it surprised him so much that he nearly knocked over the soup.
“Where am I?”
“Hey there, you’re safe, so don’t worry.”
Belle moaned again.
“Oh God, I hurt all over.”
“Hell, girl, you’re lucky to be alive. Did you really jump off that cliff?”
“You know who I am?”
“I do.”
Belle tried to sit up, but couldn’t do more than raise herself to an elbow, which caused the blanket to slip down to her waist.
“How long ago did you call the cops?”
Ronny didn’t answer, he was busy staring at her breasts.
“Hey!”
Ronny grinned.
“Sorry, but I can’t help but look.”
Belle pulled the blanket up to her neck.
“When did you call the cops?”
“I didn’t, they’d lock me up same as you.”
Belle nodded at that, and then gazed around.
“Why aren’t there any doors or windows?”
Ronny smiled with pride.
“You’re underground, in my fortress.”
“Oh,” Belle said, and then slumped back against the cot. “What’s wrong with me?”
“You nearly bled to death from a gash on your right leg, but don’t worry, you’ll get your strength back soon.”
Belle reached down and felt the wound.
“You stitched me up?”
“Sure did, and I gave you a shot of antibiotics too. I’m ready for when the end comes, and you can believe it.”
“Who else knows I’m here?”
“No one,”
“What about your friends?”
“I ain’t got none. I was involved in the local Prepper’s group, but them bastards said I was, ‘Crazy and extreme’, so the hell with them.”
Belle smiled.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m Ronny.”
“Well, Ronny, when I regain my strength, I will show you my appreciation.”
Ronny licked his lips and swallowed hard before asking his next question.
“How ah, just how are you gonna do that?”
Belle pulled back the blanket.
“I’ll think of something.”
***
Four days later, Victoria Belle crawled out of the ground by way of a hidden tunnel and reentered the world.
She left the opening to the fortress exposed, in the hopes that it would make it that much easier for the scavengers to find and devourer Ronny Neth’s corpse.
TAKEN! Y – THE OTHER DR. WHITE
(The events in TAKEN! Y took place prior to and after the events in TAKEN!50)
NEW YORK CITY, November 2010
Basketball star, Dwayne Jones, woke from a dreamless sleep to the sound of singing coming from the balcony behind him.
Dwayne winced at the off-key melody coming from the young blonde he’d picked up at the bar, and struggled to remember her name. When he couldn’t think of it, he simply shouted at her to stop singing.
“I’m trying to sleep here, girl, you know? I’ve got a game tonight.”
The woman giggled in response.
“I am so high.”
Dwayne smiled at that. He knew she was on something. She was pretty much out of it earlier while in bed, but now seemed ready for round two, and sleep could wait.
He rolled over to look at her.
“Hey, why don’t you bring that fine ass back to—oh shit!”
The naked blonde was walking atop the balcony railing as if it were a tightrope, and Dwayne’s apartment was on the 12th, floor.
Dwayne leapt from the bed just as the woman’s foot slipped, and it was only his incredible speed and long-legged stride that allowed him to even have a chance at saving her, however, gravity was faster.
He reached out for her, but she was already falling and the fingernails of her right hand raked across the back of his own, and then she was lost, a white screaming shape in the night, her long blond hair fluttering behind her.
Dwayne closed his eyes, but he couldn’t close his ears, and the impact of her body hitting the pavement was a sound he would never forget.
***
BOSTON, MASSACHUETTS, August 2014
Dr. James White sat in the office of his longtime friend, attorney Jeff Roman, as Roman filled him in on Dwayne Jones’ latest troubles.
At a lull in the conversation, Dr. White looked at the photos on the wall behind Roman’s desk, many of which displayed boxers of one sort or another, as Jeff Roman was a fight aficionado and one-time promoter.
One photo showed the doctor’s son-in-law as a very young man, winning a championship bout in a Premium Fighter contest.
Dr. White thought that boxing and all such violent sports were barbaric, and yet, he couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride whenever he looked at the photo of his son-in-law, although, he would never admit it.
Dr. White was in the area to attend an event given by the Harvard Alumni Association, and used the occasion to catch up with Roman and other friends in the area.
After having dinner together, Roman invited him back to his office to recruit him to aid in Dwayne Jones’ defense, as the former basketball star faced trouble once more.
“Didn’t he just get out of prison for another crime?” Dr. White said.
“He did over three years for negligent homicide in the death of Selena Richman, and now he’s accused of stabbing Christy Rose to death in her apartment.”
“And this Christy Rose, you say she’s the one that he blamed for the first death?”
“Yes, he says that she admitted to him that she had slipped Selena Richman a date rape drug in a drink, but she was never charged with anything by the cops in New York.”
“Why would she do that, to help Jones bed the woman?”
“Actually, Rose wanted the girl for herself, but Jones took her home first.”
“I see, so he did have a motive to murder her since he blamed her for the first death.”
Roman let out a sigh.
“It’s worse than that, Jones once threatened to kill Rose in front of witnesses.”
“How long was he out of prison before Rose was murdered?”
“One day.”
“Good God, Jeff, are all your cases this tough?”
“Jimmy, I know you’re semi-retired, but would you look over the case and tell me what you think, as a paid consultant of course.”
“I’m not sure I could offer any help.”
“I truly believe Jones when he tells me he’s innocent. I don’t expect a miracle, but I’d be negligent in my defense of Jones if I didn’t use every resource I had, and you’ve got one of the best minds I’ve ever known.”
“Thanks for saying that, but before I agree, what’s Jones’ alibi for the night of the murder?”
“He had gone out earlier to celebrate his release with friends from his old neighborhood, and then walked home from a local bar and went to bed. He was staying with his mother in Brooklyn, since he didn’t have an apartment yet, and she’s his only witness. She swears she looked in on him at four a.m. and Rose was murdered at about the same time in Manhattan.”
“I don’t think a jury would be swayed by a mother’s testimony.”
“No, you’re right about that.”
“All right, I’ll look into it, but I’ll need everything you have from both cases.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Roman grabbed a laptop case from the floor behind his desk and passed it across to Dr. White.
“What’s this?”
“There’s a laptop in there loaded with everything you’ll need, and I’ve also included hard copies of all photos from the two cases.”
“Fine, I’ll take this home with me and study the contents.”
“Thanks, Jimmy, and good luck.”
***
THREE DAYS LATER, 1:12 a.m.
James White’s eyes were bleary as he s
earched yet again through the evidence and notes that Jeff Roman had given him concerning the stabbing death of Christy Rose, and the earlier death of Selena Richman.
This was his fifth time through the material and nothing had jumped out at him, and he could offer no help in Dwayne Jones’ defense.
As he was putting away the photos from the case, the face of Ruth Weaver caught his eye.
Weaver was the forty-five year-old landlady of the late Christy Rose, who lived in the apartment below hers. She claimed that she hadn’t heard or seen anyone on the night of the murder, but that she had been asleep.
The research notes mentioned that the portly Ms. Weaver was also the youngest daughter of the late evangelist Nathaniel Weaver, a man the doctor’s mother loved to listen to on the radio when he was just a boy.
Out of curiosity, Dr. White did an Internet search on Nathaniel Weaver. He had never seen a picture of the man, but could clearly remember the booming voice that used to trumpet forth from the kitchen radio in his boyhood home.
When the results of the search showed a thin, mousy-looking man barely five feet in height, the doctor let out a chuckle.
“It’s a good thing he had that voice.”
He was about to clear the page when a different photo of the man caught his eye. Weaver was not alone in the photo, and standing beside him was his wife, Evelyn, and his then twenty-year-old daughter, Ruth Weaver, who was chubby and wearing glasses.
Dr. White stared at the picture, while paying special attention to the girl’s face, as a feeling of Déjà vu came over him.
Have I seen this photo before?
No. He was certain that he had never seen it before that moment, and yet...
The truth hit him, and he searched through the photos that Roman had given him, until he found the right ones.
“Son of a bitch,” he whispered under his breath, and despite the late hour, he called Roman to tell him his belief that the case was solved.
***
Homicide detective, Lieutenant Thomas Delaney of the New York City Police Department smiled pleasantly at Ruth Weaver, and then thanked her for coming into the station to talk.
Delaney was a big man with short black hair and a trim moustache, who was the son, grandson, and great-grandson of New York City policemen, and they had all been homicide detectives as well.
Taken! Alphabet Series - 26 Original Taken! Tales (Donald Wells' Taken! Series Book 14) Page 10
