by Jon Mills
Prey
Debt Collector 6
Jon Mills
Direct Response Publishing
Contents
Also by Jon Mills
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
A Plea
Newsletter
About the Author
Copyright © 2016 by Jon Mills
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to an online retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
Debt Collector 6: Prey is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Also by Jon Mills
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Undisclosed
Retribution
Clandestine
The Debt Collector
Debt Collector 2: Vengeance
Debt Collector 3: Reborn
Debt Collector 4: Hard to Kill
Debt Collector 5: Angel of Death
Debt Collector 6: Prey
Debt Collector 7: Narc
Debt Collector 8: Hard Time
Debt Collector 9: Her Last Breath
Debt Collector 10: Trail of the Zodiac
Lost Girls
I’m Still Here
The Promise
True Connection
For my Family
People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.
George Orwell
Prologue
May 6, 2016
The house was silent the morning Billy Carson was abducted. He devoured a peanut butter sandwich while riding his bicycle to the newspaper drop-off. It wasn’t far. That morning he wasn’t even meant to be doing this. It was his brother’s paper route but he’d come down with a cold, so he asked him to do it. Billy had helped him several times over the past year because he wasn’t old enough to get a job with Oregon’s Albany Star. He’d have to wait a year. In the meantime, his brother Zach had offered him a few bucks to help him a couple of days a week. Their parents didn’t mind as long as Zach was with him. However, this was the first time that Zach wouldn’t be there and he didn’t want to lose the money. Zach didn’t have a big route, it was just delivering papers in the neighborhood. As long as the papers were delivered before six-thirty on a weekday and seven on a weekend, he was good. It still meant getting up when it was dark and though Billy wasn’t scared, he couldn’t help but feel creeped out by how dark it was at five-thirty in the morning.
“Don’t tell mom, just hurry back,” Zach said.
“And if she finds out?”
“Just hurry up. And make sure you place number 116’s paper in the mailbox near his door, not in the one at the end of his driveway or he will have a fit. The guy is super anal about having to walk down to the bottom of his driveway to get it.”
“Will do.”
He turned to leave.
“And Billy, thanks.”
“You owe me.”
Homes in the northwest part of Albany all looked the same. It was a typical suburb full of half brick, half panel siding homes set back from the pavement. Some had American flags blowing in the wind out the front. Patriotism was strong in the community. Billy’s father specifically bought a home in the area because of how safe it was. He’d never forget him droning on about it over dinner in the days leading up to moving in.
That morning the air was crisp and his hands stung a little as he rode against a cold March wind. None of the streetlights were on, the only light came from the odd home. Billy tried not to dwell on it. He pedaled fast and kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead as he swerved around corners to get to Northwest Violet Avenue.
An elderly man stood at his front porch puffing on a cigarette. He was there every morning. At least he had been on the days that Billy had helped his brother. Zach said he worked the night shift at one of the factories in the area and didn’t go to sleep until late morning.
Billy tossed the crust of his sandwich to the curb, and slowed to put his headphones on. A quick glance down to select a song on his MP3 player and he was now listening to some heavy metal music. It would help him get through the drudgery of the next hour, and keep his mind from the fact that it was dark out. The early morning light messed with his head. He always had a sense that someone was watching, even when he was with Zach. Of course, the only people out at five forty-five in the morning on a weekend were old folks looking to go for an early swim at the nearby YMCA.
The gears on his bike clicked over in the quiet as he adjusted to the road beneath him.
“Hey Billy,” a voice called out but all he heard was a murmur over the music blaring in his ears. However, he caught sight of a boy coming out of a cul-de-sac and heading towards a van. It was Erik Barnes and his father. Billy pulled out an earbud.
“Where’s Zach?” Erik shouted out the window of an old, dark blue Chrysler van which pulled up alongside him.
“Sick.”
He nodded. “You want a lift?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Suit yourself.”
They drove past him and Erik shouted something about seeing him at the drop. Billy squeezed the earbud back into his ear and continued pedaling, not even slowing to look at the time. The papers were usually delivered in bundles in one area. He and several others would collect their stacks, fill up their bags and lug them around. It was so much easier when Zach was there, as they could split the load. This was going to be the first time he had taken them all.
Leafless trees hung over the road like gnarled fingers twisting together. Homes became a blur in his peripheral vision as he picked up his pace. He slowed and glanced both ways as he crossed over North Albany Road and continued on 22nd Street. He was halfway across the intersection when he noticed a white vehicle heading south. He shot over the intersection feeling his heart race. The wind nipped at his cheeks as he glanced back for just a second to see if it had passed but it hadn’t. It turned onto the street he was on. He didn’t give it another thought and assumed it was a shift worker returning home. Once he made it onto Northwest Violet Avenue he hung a left and kept on going until he came to the storage facility on the right. The large building was gated off but the delivery van would pull up in fron
t and use the location as a central point for the entire neighborhood. Erik was already tossing his stack of papers into the back of his father’s minivan. Several other paperboys were lined up to collect theirs. Billy glanced over his shoulder and saw the white car was no longer behind him. All he could see was a row of homes stretching back into the darkness.
He skidded to a halt and hopped off his bike. Stephen Radcliff frowned and looked past him.
“Where’s Zach?”
“At home, ill. I’m doing his round today.”
“He should have phoned. You can’t do it unless you have a parent with you.”
Only one other kid who was twelve was allowed to have a route and that was because his father went with him. Trying to get their parents to help would have been near impossible and if they knew that Billy was doing the route for Zach they wouldn’t have let him go.
“Sorry, Billy.”
“Look, he really needs the money and to be honest, so do I. I don’t get any allowance and I’m only allowed to help Zach occasionally. I know the route. I promise, I’ll have all the papers delivered by seven. Besides, I’m sure you don’t want to do them, do you?”
Stephen blew his cheeks out and ran a hand over his unshaven jaw.
“No, I really don’t think it’s a good idea. Your parents will have my hide if…”
“We can watch out for him. He delivers to homes that are close to us,” Erik added.
Erik’s father quickly reprimanded him.
“What? I’m just saying. I don’t know what’s the issue. It’s just delivering papers.”
Billy raised his eyes at Stephen.
“It’s a lot of papers. Are you going to be able to juggle them all? Where’s your bike trailer?”
Billy groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. Zach usually attached his bike to a bicycle trailer. He would stuff it with the second load and the other load he would carry in his bag. At least, that’s what he did when Billy wasn’t helping him.
“Give us his second load and we’ll drop it off to him,” Erik’s father said.
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” he nodded and smiled. Stephen lugged a stack over to his van and placed it on the backseat. Then he returned and wagged a finger in front of Billy’s face.
“Don’t make me regret this.”
Billy smiled. “I won’t, I promise. Thanks, Steve.”
“Alright, get your ass moving.”
Billy filled his bag with as many stacks of papers as he could and tried to balance on his bike. Once he managed to get them to sit just right on the bar in front of him, he pushed off and headed in the direction of the first house. With his headphones squeezed tightly in his ears, and the knowledge that in half an hour he would get the next stack of papers, he soon found his groove and began working his way through the load.
The silence and cool air wrapped around him and made him pick up his pace. He would hop off his bike, double-time it up to a door and jam a folded paper into a mailbox. After making his way down two streets he saw Erik and his father one street over. Erik gave an army salute and disappeared behind a cluster of trees. The streets were like a ghost town. Besides the odd car that drove past, it was eerily quiet. Just after six the streetlights kicked in and the glow from them calmed the uneasiness he was feeling in his chest.
Billy would cross the front yards of homes and do two or three houses and then return to his bike and pedal on to the next house. As he made his way back, the rumble of a car engine behind him caused him to cast a glance over his shoulder. It was one street down but heading his way. He squinted at the brightness of the headlights and then noticed it was the same white car he had seen earlier. He swallowed and turned his walk into a slight jog. When he collected his bag and bike, he contemplated going back to the last intersection where Erik was but he needed to get the papers done. He gritted his teeth and pressed on in the direction of the next house. As the car got closer he noticed it had a single occupant inside. A man with a mustache and a thick head of hair. He tried not to pay attention as it crawled up close to where he was. Billy applied his brakes and hopped off and raced up to the next house. He took a little longer to fold the paper and place it in the mailbox. All the while Billy kept his eyes on the car that was idling. Go on. Why are you taking so long? he thought. Heaviness filled in his chest at the thought that the man was waiting for him to return to his bike. He contemplated for a second ringing the bell and waking up the homeowner but if the guy pulled away, he would be left explaining himself. Billy turned towards his bike and tried not to look at the guy who was smoking a cigarette.
“Hey kid, are you familiar with the area? Do you know where Hartridge Road is?”
Billy shook his head. “No, sorry.”
The way the man looked at him gave him the creeps. Right then Erik’s dad pulled his van around the corner and the white car pulled away. Erik jumped out and ran a paper up to a house on the other side of the street while his father looked over.
“You okay, Billy?” he said before looking at the white car that came to a halt at a stop sign further down the street.
“Yeah.”
“What did he want?”
“Directions. Kind of creepy actually.”
“I can put your bike on top of our van if you want and you can come with us.”
“No, it’s okay. I only have another twenty houses and then I will catch up with you for that second set of papers.”
“We’ll meet you at the corner of 22nd Avenue.”
He nodded and Billy picked up the pace. He didn’t want to be out there any longer than necessary. He dashed across yards, his eyes darting all over the place hoping to not see the car again. Turning on to Northwest Broadway Street he was only a few blocks from his home when the car reappeared further down. He was trying to give the guy the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he was lost. If he was, of course he would be crawling around the streets. Wouldn’t he? But at six in the morning? It wasn’t like their neighborhood had factories or stores nearby. It was residential. The only people entering or leaving the area were folks who lived there.
He continued to the last ten houses. When he came out of the next house the car had doubled back and was now behind him again. He was starting to feel nervous but the thought of anyone trying to grab him was unlikely. It was unheard of. His father was always harping on about the lack of police presence in the area but that was because there were rarely any break-ins. Billy cast a glance down at the paper and kept on reading the front-page news. It was some article about a car that had been found in the river. Some girl had panicked when a bee had flown in through her window. Instead of slowing and parking the vehicle, she just exited and the vehicle ended up in the river.
He looked back over his shoulder. The car was crawling along slowly. When he would stop, it would come to a halt and the man would squint at a house as if he was trying to make out whether he was on the right street. Billy wanted to go tell him that this wasn’t the street but his instincts told him otherwise.
“Hey Zach,” a neighbor came out to collect his paper. “You’re not Zach.” The man frowned.
“No, his brother. He’s ill today.”
“Well, tell him to get better from me.”
“Yeah, sure,” Billy said turning his head towards the car. The car drove past and turned right. Again he breathed a sigh of relief. He almost wanted to talk to the neighbor for a few minutes, anything to put a little bit of distance between him and the stranger. Instead, he continued to the next house. Six more and he would meet up with Erik’s father.
When he made it to the next corner the car was sitting there. It hadn’t driven off like he thought. It had parked behind a large hedge, hidden out of view. The engine barely made any noise. The exhaust pipe kicked out a fair amount of fumes that made Billy cough as he passed by it.
He pedaled fast up to the last block. Huge trees loomed over the road creating a canopy that made it seem even darker than it was. The end of the road bumped
up against a woodland and the thought that the car was following him was beyond unsettling. He was beginning to wish that he hadn’t agreed to help his brother.
Fear flooded his being as he dumped his bike and rushed over to the house and tucked the paper in the box. He surveyed his surroundings for a second before sprinting back. With thick hedges to his left and right and the woodland at the end of the dead-end road, it seemed like a million eyes were staring at him.
As he came up to the next house, he noticed a man step out from the wooded area and walk in his direction. He was on the other side of the road. Billy glanced back and saw the car moving in. His bike was ten feet away as he was already walking up the driveway to the next house. When he turned, the man had disappeared but the car was pulling around. He couldn’t tell if the man walking had got in the car because it was too dark. Perhaps he was picking someone up for work. Yes, that was it. They probably worked construction. There was a lot of construction going on in the area. Ah, you idiot, Billy, he thought. Relax. He breathed in deeply and walked back to his bike, which was close to a hedge. As he reached down to grab the handles, a shot of pain went through him as though he’d been stung all over. His muscles spasmed, and his legs fell away beneath him. There had only been one time that Billy had felt an electric shock and that was when he had touched the back of the television. It was like a bubble going up his arm and coursing through his body. But this was nothing like that. Every muscle in his body reacted violently attempting to gain control. But it was too late. Whatever struck him in the center of his back paralyzed him instantly. Before he had even hit the ground, the white car screeched up beside him and a door opened.
“Grab his legs.”
A set of sneakers came into a view, dark grey, and then hands grabbed his ankles and arms, then forcefully lifted and shoved him onto the backseat in the white car. He felt his face hit warm leather and before a scream could escape his lips a cloth was placed over his mouth and nose. A sudden gasp, an attempt to pull away, but it was pointless. The world around started to go dark. Someone pushed against his feet and told the driver to go. Three men. There were definitely three. The early morning air was gone as the door slammed and the engine rumbled.
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