Bell Hath No Fury

by Jeremy Waldron

  Bell Hath No Fury

  A Samantha Bell Mystery Thriller

  Jeremy Waldron

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2019 Jeremy Waldron

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author and/or publisher. No part of this publication may be sold or hired, without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the writer’s imagination and/or have been used fictitiously in such a fashion it is not meant to serve the reader as actual fact and should not be considered as actual fact. Any resemblance to actual events, or persons, living or dead, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication / use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  jeremy@jeremywaldron.com

  Also by Jeremy Waldron

  Dead and Gone to Bell

  Bell Hath No Fury

  Contents

  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

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  AUTHOR NOTE:

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Adrenaline pulsing through his veins kept him alert. Months of preparation were finally coming to fruition. His heart knocked inside his chest as he dropped to one knee and clicked open his hard-shell guitar case.

  Inside, the black metallic pieces of his rifle reflected a dull shine that left him feeling breathless.

  Suddenly, the penetrating rays of sun broke through the massive battleship clouds overhead. The warmth draped over his shoulder like a wool blanket. Tipping his head back, he briefly watched the gray air glide beneath the crisp blue sky.

  He had planned meticulously to get to this point. Hundreds of hours and sleepless nights dreaming about what would happen next. He’d waited patiently for this moment and could feel the blessings of the day shining down upon him as if it was written long ago. Here, now, was what he was born to do—his contribution to the world.

  Inhaling the dry cold air, he felt his nerves calm. His muscles flexed and prepared for battle. Today, everyone would learn of what he did while keeping his anonymity. The war that started decades ago brought to the forefront. Their lives—as well as his—would be forever changed.

  On his exhale, the Sniper swiftly lowered his gaze back to his .338 Lapua Magnum bolt-action rifle. He assembled it in record time, finishing the task by inserting the magazine of ammunition into the firearm.

  A playful grin pulled at his lips just as he flicked his wrist and checked the time. The digital watch said it was five minutes after 9AM. “Showtime.”

  Laying his rifle down on the cold rooftop next to him, he retrieved the high-powered Nikon binoculars from the case and gripped both sides between his fingers, scoping his target to the southeast.

  Light snow fell lazily from the sky.

  He gauged wind speed and direction before turning toward the breeze’s source. To his west was Mt. Evans towering over the Continental Divide at an impressive 14,264 feet above sea level. Socked in by what was sure to be a blizzard, the Sniper brought the binoculars back to his eyes and looked once again toward North High School.

  A handful of students carelessly roamed school grounds. He swept his gaze to the left where the gym class was outside on the track, boys and girls screaming as they ran and chased each other around. Sweeping his attention back to the north entrance, bicycles were parked outside. There was no movement to his plan; a perfect day to die.

  “You’re late,” he muttered to himself. His partner wasn’t anywhere to be found.

  The Sniper patted his pants pocket when reaching for his cellphone. Remembering he’d purposely come without it—fearing it could be used to trace him to the rooftop from where he was perched—he couldn’t call to check in.

  His head snapped up when the first shot rang out.

  His heartrate spiked as he dropped his binoculars and rushed to exchange them for his rifle. Locked and loaded, he extended his trigger finger and lowered his eye to the scope.

  Eyeing the school entrance through his long-range scope, he felt his veins open up. Despite the cold, he began to sweat. Sweeping the area, it didn’t take him long to find the first victim. A young male lay on his stomach in a hot pool of blood near the north entrance to the school.

  “Well done, son,” he whispered to himself.

  His index finger pressed firmly into the trigger guard. Itching to join the fight, he clenched his stomach and resisted the urge knowing patience was his friend. The wind changed direction and the chaos unfolding only a short distance away could now be heard.

  Inside, he smiled; outside, he kept focused on his mission.

  The school’s seams burst in a roar of screams as students poured from the building from all sides. Sprinting for their lives, he watched the young terrified faces fill his crosshairs. Tapping the trigger guard with his index finger, he pretended to shoot them all.

  Sirens wailed in the distance like a call to prayer.

  The Sniper closed his eyes and calmed his breathing. This is your moment. Your time to shine. A moment to live in infamy. To country, God, and glory. By the time he opened his eyes, the paramedics were already on scene. Then came the cops.

  Lowering his eye to his scope, he gripped his rifle harder, pushing his stock deeper into his shoulder.

  Several police cruisers arrived in succession. Just as he suspected
they would. The moment the first uniformed officer stepped out, the Sniper chose his target. Then, when he had the officer’s face locked between his crosshairs, he brought his index finger off the guard and onto the trigger.

  Holding his breath, he took the shot.

  A single red dot exploded on the officer’s neck just above his protective vest.

  The Sniper watched the other officers scramble to figure out where the shot had come from. More students came running out from the school. Chaos ripped through like a tornado. Another half-dozen police cruisers arrived on scene and the Sniper’s chest expanded.

  The shot cop lay on the ground gripping his neck between his hands. Risking his own life, his partner rushed to his side, pulling him safely behind their car and surely calling it in.

  A grin pulled the Sniper’s lips. His plan was unfolding better than he had imagined.

  He zeroed in, calmed his breathing, and prepared to fire off his second shot. Through his scope, he watched the police officer looking toward the school thinking the shot that killed his partner had come from there. A grin pulled at the Sniper’s lips when he squeezed the trigger and watched the second officer hit the ground next to the first.

  Chapter Two

  I struggled to breathe as I drove as fast as possible from the newsroom to North High School. Two of the men I cared most about were inside the building when news broke about the shooting. The thought that my son, Mason, or the man I was dating, Alex King, might be dead made me sick.

  I pounded on my horn, cursed slow drivers, and weaved through morning traffic praying that both were alive and well and that I would be able to see them again.

  Their voices echoed between my ears and I didn’t know what to make of it.

  When I hit a red light, my chest swelled with sudden panic. I shoved my fingers through my hair and felt my neck muscles tense. I was paralyzed by disbelief. It didn’t feel real. The moment I closed my eyes, the first of the tears squeezed out of the corners.

  My throat closed as I began sobbing uncontrollably.

  The floodgate to my emotions poured from my lungs in thick bursts. It was all too much—too sudden of a surprise. I wiped my tear-filled eyes with my hand and saw that the light was still red.

  “C’mon, dammit!” I slapped the steering wheel.

  I needed to get to the high school—wanted desperately to hold my baby and feel his heart beat against the palm of my hand. He had to be alive. He just had to be.

  The light refused to change. Seeming to be forever stuck on red, I felt my hand ball into a fist as my cries turned to anger. Hitting the center of my steering wheel over and over again, I was losing control. The sudden sting cracked my knuckles red just as the light flicked over to green.

  I gasped and hit the gas with my foot, hearing my tires speed off the line. It made little sense to rush but logic had nothing to do with my motherly instinct to protect my cub from harm. I knew there was nothing I could do to stop the situation currently unfolding, but something about being there—waiting anxiously, holding onto hope—kept me believing that Mason would be okay and that I could take him home and away from the danger.

  The radio news broke, covering the situation. Quick to turn it off, I’d had enough bad news for one day. Reaching for my cellphone, I tried calling Mason again.

  “C’mon, baby, pick up. Mason, please pick up,” I pleaded as the line rang and rang.

  Mason wasn’t answering, and neither was Alex.

  The tightness in my throat closed even further.

  I glanced to the rearview mirror when I head the sirens approach from behind. Jerking the wheel, I pulled off to the side and held my breath as I let the ambulance pass. Quick to point my hood back onto the road, I drafted off their lane as I followed closed behind, ignoring the illegality of what I was doing. I didn’t have to guess to where they were heading because we were all making our way to the same destination.

  Feeling my hands go numb on the wheel, I couldn’t stop thinking back to what I’d seen on Dawson’s TV.

  Breaking News. North High School is currently on lockdown as an active shooter is on scene. One student has already been confirmed dead but authorities and emergency services are expecting the number to rise.

  I stared at the emergency lights flashing in front of me, unable to erase the image of Trisha Christopher’s face from my memory. How my colleague’s hand trembled over her mouth as she stared in terror and disbelief by what we were witnessing. My heart shattered in that same moment and I blamed myself for putting my son in harm’s way.

  A sharp stab in my side twisted with regret as I wished I would have driven Mason to school myself or have spontaneously made the decision to insist we all take the day off. We were all together—Mason, me, and Alex. Happy and laughing, everything was perfect. Why did I let them leave?

  The prayer wheels inside my head never stopped spinning. I muttered thousands of them past dry lips like a mantra that grew and spread out like branches the more I said them. I needed to put good energy out into the world, afraid that if I didn’t, good news wouldn’t come my way.

  I broke off the tail of the ambulance as soon as the high school was within sight.

  Applying more pressure to my brakes, I scanned over the dash, feeling my face pale with disbelief at what I was witnessing. I pulled into an empty space, not needing to get any closer. Kicking the door open, I stood and gaped at the unbelievable sight.

  Police cruisers circled the school like an army. SWAT vans were parked next to tactical teams. Ambulances lined up, waiting to be called to duty. Fortunate students who’d managed to escape alive huddled in each other’s arms, staring through wet eyes and crying at the horror they’d witnessed.

  Unease flipped my stomach.

  Digging my sneakers into the pavement, I slammed my car door behind me and hurried to an open vantage point where I hoped to find Mason and King. The world spun around me and I moved fast but my vision came in spotty waves as everything seemed to come to a complete stop.

  Past the bubble of hearing my own heart thrashing, there were voices and cries mixed between the screams of terror. I wanted to hold each and every one of them as I popped my head in and out, above and below, searching for my son.

  “Have you seen Mason Bell?” I asked.

  No one had and I couldn’t find him anywhere. Before I knew it, I’d come to the police barricade somewhere in the middle of the school parking lot. They had secured the area, not letting anyone out without first being checked as a possible suspect.

  Students clasped their hands behind their heads as police patted them down. Backpacks and school books were thrown to the ground and I watched a tactical team, heavily armed, enter the building.

  Twirling around, I shoved my hands through my hair and tugged at the roots. I felt helpless in my pursuit, convincing myself I was too late.

  My heart stopped the moment I saw it.

  Then I couldn’t take my eyes away.

  A thick red stain spread over the sheet covering the first casualty. While being protected by an army of officers, two paramedics wheeled the gurney into the back of an ambulance, quickly shutting the doors and rushing back toward the entrance to help with the next.

  A woman wailed over my shoulder.

  I shuddered and felt my breaths quicken. When my cellphone rang, my heart was shocked back into rhythm. Hoping it was Mason or King, I was let down to see it was Erin. I couldn’t answer. Not with Mason still missing. I tried his phone again, but he still didn’t answer. King is with him, I reassured myself. He’ll protect Mason as if he was his own. They have to be alive. I can’t let them die today.

  My breath hitched with the surprise of hearing Mason’s phone click over to voicemail.

  “Mason, oh my god, call me back,” I rambled off quickly, not wanting to miss the opportunity. “I’m here. At the school. Please, call me back ASAP. I love you and I need to know you’re okay.”

  Chapter Three

  He felt his ribs sque
eze as the elevator slowed to an unexpected stop. The Sniper drew his brows together and glanced at the floor number. His pulse throbbed in his neck as he wondered who could be waiting on the other side of the doors.

  Maintaining his composure, he pulled his baseball cap over his eyes with his free hand as the doors slid open. A woman lifted her head and greeted him as she stepped through the doors. The Sniper said nothing. Only nodded and smiled. The woman turned to face the front and he relaxed, appreciating her lack of interest in prolonged eye contact and awkward conversation. The last thing he needed was to be seen—remembered and later linked to the rooftop.

  By the time the elevator started up again, the Sniper smiled and cast his gaze to the floor, keeping one firm hand on his guitar case.

  Not a minute later, the doors chimed open once again and he followed the woman in professional attire onto the lobby floor, quick to blend in with the others. He focused on his stride, being sure to keep it much slower than his racing heart.