The Wrath Walker (The Wrath Series Book 1)

by Matthew Newson

  “They already did, and they confirmed your story about it not being shot in a while.” She coldly stated back to me.

  “Good. When I got to Ron’s, he continued on with his story about how he felt like he was in danger, and how I was the only one who could help him. Then we heard a knock at the door two different times, and both times Ron confirmed no one was there by using his doorbell camera. Ron thought kids were doing it and running away, and the second time, Ron opened the door and yelled at the kids in the street to knock it off. The next thing I knew there was a man in a red suit standing next to me from out of nowhere, and the moment I noticed him, he threw me into the wall. He had to have been hiding in the house and came out when we were distracted by the knocking.”

  “That explains the large hole in the drywall,” she said. “Did you get a good look at the guy, Brandon?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please describe him in detail to the best of your recollection and try not to leave anything out.”

  “He wore a red business suit, with a red vest, white dress shirt, black tie, black leather gloves, and black leather shoes. He also had a buzzed head, but he looked to have dark brown hair. However, I’m not exactly sure what color it is. He must’ve had some serious body armor under his jacket because it stopped all six shots from Ron’s three-fifty-seven like they were spit wads. The guy didn’t even look like he was hurt or got pushed back from the force of the bullets.”

  “Did you get the guy’s name, and did you try and stop him?”

  “He said his name was Wrath, must be some sort of nickname. I wanted to stop him, but it took me some time to regroup after he threw me into the wall.”

  “I’ll say, I’m surprised you’re not hurt. When you hit the wall, you broke not only the dry wall, but two of the studs as well. A guy that strong, you’re lucky you made it out of there alive.”

  Wow. I had broken the studs. That would explain the extreme pain I was in, and why I couldn’t really move. “Yeah, I know, Lizzie. I mean, Detective Elizabeth. Sorry.”

  A quick twinge of anger flashed across her face but vanished when I quickly corrected myself.

  “It’s okay, Brandon, please continue.”

  “This guy, Wrath, said he was there to punish Ron for the things he had done in his life. He accused Ron of killing a bunch of elderly people with a knife, which was news to me. I wasn’t aware of anyone Ron had killed, if in fact he really did kill someone. Anyway, then he picked Ron up by his jacket with one hand and stabbed him with a yellow knife that read Brimstone on the blade. There must have been something on it, because when he pulled it out from his jacket, the room smelled like sulfur.”

  “The CSIs found traces of sulfur in the stab wound. But do you know why this Wrath guy would have a knife with sulfur on it?” She looked up from her notes. Her still-flawless skin almost undid me.

  “I do not. Maybe it’s his gimmick, calling card, or something like that. Just like his weird name, but after he stabbed and dropped Ron to the floor, I tried to reach for my gun. He came over and moved it from my reach and told me not to try anything or he’d kill me next. Then he looked at his watch, and said he had to leave because he had a schedule to keep. He mentioned he had four other targets to get to, and he couldn’t afford to be late. I believe you have a serial killer on your hands, and not just another run-of-the-mill hit man. It was something about the way the guy talked and carried himself that felt like it wasn’t his first time taking a life. He also said he had been to Black Castle several times, so I’m certain he’s killed people before in the city. We need to check unsolved murder cases where people were stabbed to death, and there were traces of sulfur in the wounds. If you ask me, this guy isn’t going to stop after he’s killed those other four people, whoever they are. This guy is going to keep killing people until we stop him.”

  “I agree he needs to be stopped, and my fellow officers and myself will stop him, and not you. You’re not a police officer anymore, Brandon, and vigilantism is illegal in this city. From your description, he sounds like a hit man to me, so I’m assuming you’re probably mistaken in your assessment of his motives. I will be performing the investigation since I am the lead detective on the case, and I’m sure you’re needed to track down all the cheating lowlife spouses of the city.”

  The smile on her face was a cruel one.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” I said as I looked away. Every word she said was filled with total and utter contempt for my continued existence. They pierced me like the knife that killed Ron, and I knew it would be a long time before the sting from that exchange lessened. If I lived long enough for it to subside at all. Lizzie must have picked up the fact that I was upset from more than just Ron’s murder, because her tone softened a little toward me.

  She pulled out my car keys from her jacket pocket and slid them over the desk. “Here, I had an officer bring your car to the station, and it’s parked out front. I figured it’s the least I could do since you had to come all the way down here.”

  I reached out and took the keys while keeping my eyes fixed on the table. “Thank you, I really appreciate that.”

  “Speaking of your own business, being a private investigator, how’s that going? Old habits die hard I guess.”

  “I guess and it’s fine.” I wanted nothing more than to be out of the room and away from Lizzie as quickly as possible. Her perfume caused a flood of memories to rush back of the better times we shared. The scent reminded me of the time I took her to dinner, told her how I felt, and asked her if she wanted to take things to the next level and be exclusive. Her face shone like the sun as she told me she felt the same. I immediately reached over the table and took her hand, and I never wanted that moment to end. What was once one of the happiest memories of my life was now one of the most painful that I had relived several times in my dreams. The hardest part of all was how she moved on so quickly as if what we had never meant a thing to her. “Like you said, tracking down cheating spouses, and delivering the heart-wrenching, soul-crushing news isn’t as great as one thinks.”

  Her voice shifted to a more concerned tone. “Tell me, Brandon, how have you been holding up?”

  I looked up at her and realized I hadn’t been that close to her since the day she ended our relationship. I kept my emotions in check and drowned out the memory of my pleas for her to take me back. I instead counted and memorized every line and curve of her face. I didn’t know if I’d ever be that close to her again, and I wanted to preserve her lovely face in my mind just one more time.

  “I’m doing alright,” I choked out as I looked away.

  I could see out of the corner of my eye how concerned she looked for me, which felt nice for a change. Then it occurred to me that she wasn’t concerned for me, but that she pitied me, which only amplified the pain.

  I had to change the subject.

  “I see you’re doing pretty well here. Well on your way to being the precinct’s best detective. I’m very happy for you, Elizabeth. You’ve worked very hard, and you truly deserve it.”

  She relaxed a little and sat back in her chair. “Yeah, I took down a bunch of the old Ricci crew, and I was able to help the district attorney put them all away with the evidence I collected. I have also had the luck of being on some other high-profile cases.” She looked proud of her accomplishment.

  “Yeah, I heard about that. Congratulations. Those were some very impressive takedowns. I’m very happy for you again. You’ve always been a great detective.”

  “Thank you, Brandon. How did you hear about it?” she asked suspiciously on the verge of her anger towards me making an impressive comeback.

  I picked my next words very carefully. “Well for one, it was in all the papers. Then I heard people talking about it all over the city about how much safer the place was. You’re big time now, Elizabeth, and I’m proud of you.”

  She smiled and relaxed a little more, and it started to feel like old times. I should have stopped talking at that m
oment, but I let something slip when I let my guard down. Just like that her total and utter hatred for me returned with a fury.

  “So, how are you and Scott doing?” I asked, not realizing the mistake I had made until the words had already left my mouth. Her lovely smile rapidly morphed into a scowl.

  “Who told you about Scott, Brandon?”

  I wasn’t supposed to know about Scott. Lizzie kept her personal life extremely quiet, and she knew there wasn’t a cop in the city that still talked to me on friendly terms. The truth was I had kept tabs on Lizzie, and even followed her a time or two. I wasn’t proud of it, but at the time I had just needed to see her and know she was okay. That was when I discovered she had started dating a man named Scott Fuller. The pain of seeing the two of them together was far too much for me to bear and crushed what remained of my soul. That was the last time I checked up on her to see how she was doing.

  I tried my best to cover, and sound natural in my response. “I saw you guys out once, and I looked him up to make sure he wasn’t a bad guy or something like that. I’m sorry if I crossed a line.”

  “Don’t play coy with me, Brandon. You knew exactly what you were doing, so don’t try and lie to me. I know you all too well. You’re so jealous it’s pathetic, you know that? Stalking is a crime, and I should file charges on you.”

  “Please don’t, and I wasn’t stalking you. I just told you I saw you guys out in public, and only one time at that. Again, I’m sorry.” I kept my tone calm and even.

  She jumped up from her chair, and I knew she was about to let me have it.

  “Let me tell you something, Brandon Lee Farmer. Scott Fuller is a better man than you will ever be. He’s nice and treats me with respect, something you stopped doing long before I ended it with you. I’m sure you already know that he’s a social worker who helps kids and many other people in the community. When was the last time you helped anyone else other than yourself?”

  Every word she said pierced my already damaged soul. “Okay, Elizabeth, please stop. You’ve made your point. I said I was sorry.”

  “We’re going to get married, Brandon,” she said as I quickly looked at her and I was filled with pain and regret more than ever upon hearing those words. The anguish was clearly registered across my face. “Oh, I see you didn’t know that one, did you? Well let me tell you something else, Brandon. If your father could see you now—”

  “Please don’t bring my father into this. You’ve made your point.”

  “No. I want you to hear this. I love Scott unconditionally, because he loves me in the same way. He is my one and only, and you were just a waste of time. Besides, I couldn’t have married you anyway.”

  “Why?” I asked through my pain and against my better judgement, it just slipped out, but there was a part of me that had to know. “Why couldn’t you have married me? We loved each other back then, didn’t we?”

  She squared her shoulders as she lowered her head and glared at me with a look of pure disgust. “Because, I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself,” she said with malice. “All you would have done was hold me back, and seeing how far you’ve sank, I’d say I made the right decision. Your father would be ashamed of you.”

  The last thing she said rang true and left me feeling hollowed out and numb. My mind had entered into self-preservation mode to enable me to get through the situation before I felt the emotional brunt of the things she said.

  “Are we done here?” I snapped back at her. All hurt and pain had left my face and was replaced with pure anger toward the woman I still loved. Even though I wanted nothing more than to be reunited with her, her comment about my father pushed me further into the dark place I resided.

  “What?” She was clearly caught off guard by my sudden change in demeanor.

  I raised my voice to her out of hurt, determined to return the pain she had just caused me. “You heard me, I said, are we done here? You’re not charging me for any crimes here today, because it’s clear I didn’t kill Ron. I already told you everything, and I’m tired of being your punching bag. You always did enjoy looking down at others and I see that hasn’t changed. So, unless you want to continue telling me about how great Mr. Perfect is, I’m tired and I like to go home.”

  “I can’t believe I ever wasted any time on you.” She walked to the door.

  “Sure you are, sweetheart.”

  She turned back around and faced me. “You’re free to go, but I recommend you don’t leave the city just in case I have questions at a later date. You can pick up your gun at the front desk before you leave, and if I catch you spying on me or Scott, I’ll arrest you myself, and push for the maximum sentence the law allows. Are we clear?”

  I just stared at her with my teeth clenched, as I remembered how angry she could make me.

  “Good. Your silence tells me everything I need to know on that one, because you know I’ll do it. Now do you need anything from the Black Castle police department before you go?”

  Again, I remained silent and glared at her.

  “Typical,” she said as she opened the door to leave.

  “Wait, I do need something.”

  She turned back to face me. “What?”

  “I’m going to need you to have a good day...Lizzie,” I said with a vengeful smile.

  “Jerk.” She stormed out of the room and slammed the door.

  I waited a few minutes so I wouldn’t run into her in the hallway before I exited the room. I know that last comment would burn her up for a while, but that was what she wanted to do to me with her marriage talk. I went to the front desk where I was handed my gun and magazine for it in two separate sealed packages, and I was warned not to open them until I was out of the precinct. I thanked the officer, and he told me I could thank him by leaving and never setting my foot in there again. I would have been offended if I hadn’t become accustomed to that type of treatment from my former brothers in blue.

  I walked to my car and got inside to try and process the events of the evening. Ron was murdered in front of me by some whack job who claimed to be from God. I, too, was apparently on his hit list, and I had to find a way to stop him from killing his other four intended targets. Whoever they happened to be; I was sure they weren’t good guys since they were associates of Ron. That was going to be a long list to narrow down, because I didn’t know everyone in the criminal underworld Ron had rubbed elbows with.

  The thing that hurt the most were the things Lizzie had said, and I kicked myself for being spiteful back to her. Her words and the image of them getting married, having a family, and spending the rest of their lives together was going to haunt me daily for the foreseeable future. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t any good for Lizzie, and I agreed with her about my father being ashamed of me. But the prospect of death provided a good distraction for the time being. I choked back tears as I started my car and pulled out to the street.

  Who were Wrath’s four targets?

  Chapter Five

  Skeeter Amara

  The City of Black Castle – Secured Room

  I STOOD UPRIGHT AS I straightened my tie in the mirror and pushed back my stark white hair that flowed in nicely with my well-trimmed beard. Although my hair had gone from jet black to as white as the driven snow, my dark brown eyes had never lost their steely gaze. I relished in that fact. People admitted to being intimidated by the intensity of my gaze when I stared them down. They instantly caved to what I demanded of them.

  I straightened my charcoal gray suit jacket and buttoned the top button over my round stomach. I might have put on a few pounds as I aged, but I was still just as strong and lethal as when I was a young man. Everything, much like the color of my eyes, I used to my full advantage against my opposition. I loved the look on my enemy’s face the moment they realized I wasn’t a broken-down old man they could push around. That was usually the last thing that went through their mind before I beat them to death or put a bullet in their head.

  A sharp rap at the door drew
my attention away from the mirror.

  My highly trusted men, one by one, entered my elite and secured room in the back of one of my many legitimate businesses for our private matters. The room was fully soundproof, and I had it swept daily for any unwanted listening devices. There were no windows of course, but a very nice solid wood executive table with high-back chairs, and a fully stocked bar. The door to the room was concealed to look like an ordinary wall in the hallway to keep people’s curiosity in check. Anyone who entered that room had to check their guns and cell phones in another room—not that a cell phone got reception in there—but it could be used to listen to and record sensitive conversations. Finally, they had to walk through a metal detector I had built into the frame of the door just for my own peace of mind. I had that highly secured room built so I could talk freely with my associates to get things done faster. There were only a handful of people who knew that room existed. If any one of them were to share that secret, then all of them would have to be silenced, and I had made that clear to all.

  Joey Abbate came in first and greeted me upon his arrival with a hug and a kiss to each cheek. That was a sign of respect, and it was something we only did in private, because it was a dead giveaway of who we were to police and other interested parties. Most police had known who we were already and left us alone for the most part because we kept all our business dealings quiet. However, I didn’t want to give any law enforcement agency a reason to look twice at us.

  “Skeeter, thank you for calling this meeting and including me. How ya doin’?”

  “I’m good, Joey, thank you for asking, my friend. Now take a seat while we wait for the others.”

  Joey sat and ran his hand along the edges of his slicked back black hair. It amazed me how Joey was in his mid-forties, and still didn’t have a single gray hair attached to his head. Mine had gone solid white by the time I was his age because I had been the head of the family for several years by that point. He never had that kind of responsibility thrust upon his shoulders like I had, but his overall youthful appearance sickened me a little, but what are you gonna do about it?