Admired.
Sought after.
He was once a motivational speaker, throwing his words out to the masses, entertaining them with such a vast array of vocabulary. People traveled from far and wide to listen to him shout at them, motivate them to do such great things with their lives.
He yelled. He screamed. He got through to his audience.
He helped so many people change their lives for the better. Hundreds.
He made the world a better place.
More loving. More caring.
But that mattered for little in the eyes of addiction.
For the person that he needed to get through to, the person he needed to inspire the most, was resistant to calls for greatness. Despite his wealth of knowledge, his motivation to see greatness in others, he couldn’t help himself.
After a motivational performance, the dizzying highs of respect and power left him flat and empty. Life was on the road, his family was thousands of miles away, and the hotel rooms were lonely, desolate places.
Alcohol was the only thing that helped him avoid those feelings.
He convinced himself that he deserved it. He deserved the time to relax. He had sacrificed so much to help others, he deserved to treat himself with a drink.
Suddenly, he was drinking a bottle of Jack Daniels a night, and he couldn’t think about anything else. His days began to revolve around the time that he could start drinking.
At first, it didn’t affect his motivational performances.
He was fit, otherwise healthy, and still motivated to see others succeed. Despite his addiction, he still functioned at a very high level.
But that all came crashing down when, with no willpower left after a bottle of whiskey, he slept with his twenty-year-old assistant. She accused him of sexual assault, exposed their night to his wife, and made his drinking habits visible to the media.
He lost all respect.
How could someone help others when they can’t help themselves?
He lost his wife. His job. His future.
He had nothing left.
That only pushed him further into the depths of addiction.
That was the only way he could forget his mistakes.
Tonight, he has tried his best to forget. He turns to the nearest trashcan, one that is bound to have traces of food. As he scurries through a trashcan for food scraps, he notices a shadow at the end of the street.
5’10.
Broad.
Moving in the shadows.
Once, he was strong. He was powerful. He wouldn’t be scared of any shadows.
But time has not been kind to him. His once solid arms are now weak, his once washboard abs are a slab of fat.
The shadow moves closer.
The alley around them is quiet.
Dark. Out of the way.
The perfect place to not be seen.
That was Reginald’s intention, as is his attacker’s.
Closer.
Reginald takes his attention away from the trash, and towards the shadow. With an empty bottle of cheap wine gripped in one hand, he looks down the alley with blurred vision.
“Hello?”
No answer.
“Anybody there?”
Still no answer.
He staggers forward, looking for company. “Hello?”
Something moves in the shadows.
He turns.
But not quick enough.
Whack.
Reginald C. Cooper falls backward, arms wide, sprawling out on the ground. His vision is blurred. The shadow moves closer.
The arms swings…
But instinct kicks in. He moves, rolling to his right. With the force and power that he once had, he springs to his feet, moving into position, ready to fight.
“Come on, then. I don’t have anything for you to take, but I’ll fight for it.”
He’s unsteady on his feet but ready.
Ready to fight.
Ready to throw down the moves.
But a leg swiftly moves under his knees, too quick to allow time to react.
He falls.
Defenseless on the ground.
The shadow moves quickly, lunging on top of him, hands around his neck.
Breath is suddenly taken from Reginald’s throat.
He can’t draw in.
He struggles.
Fights.
But the shadow is strong.
The grip is tight.
It’s tighter.
Firmer.
Oxygen is disappearing.
In one last desperate attempt, Reginald swings his heavy arm…
But it misses.
The attacker holds strong.
The breath is quickly gone.
He has no fight left.
Nothing.
His time has come.
Chapter 16
The turn into Maple Avenue is sharp, sharper than usual.
There’s yellow tape all around the corner, cop cars outside of that. Six patrol cars, at least. A lot, it seems, for the area around there.
“What happened here?” Nicole Cowan asks the other three occupants of the car.
With them working in the same area of Los Angeles, it made sense to carpool on the way to their jobs.
Traffic isn’t as bad when you have people to share it with… unless those people are your family.
“Another drunk. Killed last night. Done the world some good to get rid of him.”
“Penny!” Valerie Wood snaps. “I’m still in the car!”
“It’s no use, Mom. She doesn’t have an off switch. She just does what she does.” Caleb Wood tries to calm his mother in the back seat. He runs his left hand over his freshly trimmed short brown hair, his right hand gripping the steering wheel tightly. At just over thirty-years-old, he found his first gray hair last week, and promptly cut his hair very short.
Nicole Cowan turns around from the front seat and raises her eyebrows at Penny Pearson, the young woman that she has raised to be strong, loving, and very, very opinionated. But those opinions have come from her, and she is happy with that.
“Please, Penny, keep those sorts of opinions to yourself when I’m in the car,” Valerie says. “You only have to hold your tongue for twenty minutes a day. Surely, even you can do that.”
Valerie Wood was so happy when her son started dating the very beautiful, seemingly caring, Penny Pearson. She thought her macho, heavily muscled, robust son had finally met someone that could keep up with his energy, someone that could steal his heart.
She was so happy with the ideal that Penny appeared to be. She dreamed of the couple’s future together – the marriage, the house, and most importantly, the future grandchildren. Little sweet kids running around, singing, playing, laughing.
That was until the dark side come out.
Late one night, they had just passed a group of drunk men after a pleasant dinner, and one of them wolf whistled at Penny.
Valerie thought they would have to deal with her 5’10 former Marine son, but it was Penny who verbally tore them to shreds. She had never heard such vulgar language, especially coming from the mouth of an angel. Every second word started with F.
Even as the Manager of the Wells Community Center for Mental Health, she had heard a lot of swearing, but nothing came close to the nastiness and anger in Penny’s words.
It took her a while to understand that hatred, but when Nicole explained that she had raised Penny from eight-years-old, after the horrible incident that happened to her sister, Penny’s mother, she understood that rage.
Nobody could go through what they went through and not be angry.
Valerie just hoped that her son wouldn’t be influenced by such vile opinions.
“I’ve just Googled it,” Penny continues. “The LA Times reports that it was another homeless drunk found dead yesterday. Cops aren’t saying much, but it appears the person was strangled.”
“Not another one. There’s something more to all of this
. There have been so many deaths around here in the last twelve months. More than usual. A lot more than usual.” Valerie sighs. “It’s so sad that someone is killing these men.”
“It’s not—” Penny stops mid-sentence as Valerie glares at her. Her death stare almost cuts her in two.
“They must be all connected,” Valerie continues. “Something is happening around here. I just hope the police are able to piece it all together before someone else dies.”
“There’s nothing in the article about it being a serial killer,” Penny says as she scrolls through the online report.
“The cops aren’t saying anything, but people on the streets are starting to talk. There are some people out there that are scared. It’s eight or nine deaths of homeless men around this neighborhood in the past year. People are getting scared, and the rumors are getting out of control.”
“Maybe it will scare them enough for them to get clean,” Nicole mumbles from the front seat.
“I think they’re just stumbling out of Wells Community Center drunk, falling into a rope, and choking themselves. No murderers involved. It’s all an innocent accident.”
“That’s it, Caleb.” Valerie rolls her eyes. “Nothing gets past you.”
He laughs. “Hey, I’m just trying to help here. The cops obviously haven’t done anything.”
“And let’s hope they don’t,” Nicole whispers under her breath, not loud enough to earn the wrath of Valerie.
“I don’t know why you still work out here, Mom? You could work anywhere, you don’t have to work out here. It’s too dangerous. You know how bad it’s getting. You know how dangerous this place is.”
“This is where people need my help the most, Caleb. Some people in this city may have forgotten that this part of society exists, but not me. I won’t abandon them, no matter how dangerous it becomes.”
“Just know that I’ve always got you back, Mom,” Caleb says defensively. “If you ever need me, just call. If you ever feel threatened, I’ll sort these people out.”
Caleb pulls his truck to the side of the curb outside the Wells Community Center for Mental Health, allowing his mother to exit the back seat.
“Bye, Mom.” He waves, and she blows him a kiss. “Six o’clock fine for pick up?”
“That’s good,” she replies. “I’ll let you know if it’s any different. I think there might be another busy day, so I’ll let you know with a text.”
As Caleb drives away, Penny giggles. “I thought she was going to strangle me.”
“Just be careful with her, babe,” Caleb replies. “You know that she lives her life to help those people. She has for a year. That’s her life passion; working with drunks. That’s what she wants to do.”
“I don’t know why. They’re all scum.”
“My father was an alcoholic, you know that. She doesn’t want people to follow that same path. Her life’s work is to rescue families from the pain that my father put us through, and the best way she can do that is to help people beat their addictions. It’s honorable work.”
“She should hate them,” Nicole throws into the conversation. “After what your father did to you and her, she should hate them. I know I would.”
“I guess people just see the world differently.”
Caleb leans across the dash and turns up the radio, so the country music song is blaring, knowing that he won’t be able to get his point of view across.
These are two very opinionated women, and he could never win an argument against either of them.
Or a fight.
Chapter 17
Leaning back in his office chair, Bill Harvey considers his thoughts for a long time.
After spending a restless night thinking about Gerard, stressing about Jonathon, and contemplating Harry Jones’ life, he went to his office early, looking for a distraction from the pain of losing another person he once knew.
Gerard West and Harry Jones were lost souls who needed guidance.
Their lives shouldn’t have ended yet.
They needed a chance, someone to give them hope, someone to give them support. A helping hand.
Instead, they had someone take it all away.
If Bill’s brother is a serial killer at work, then he could never forgive himself for letting Jonathon back out onto the streets with the chance to taste blood again. As a defense lawyer, he is bound to do his best for Jonathon, but the feeling of justice holds a stronger pull.
Murderers shouldn’t be allowed to walk the streets – no matter how little evidence is available.
The lost souls of the world need justice just as much as the rich.
And Bill Harvey intends to deliver it.
“Good morning, Penny,” Bill calls to his assistant as she walks in the door.
“You’re here early, boss.” She pops her head into the office. “As it’s my first day without Kate, I thought that I would come in an hour early and tidy up some paperwork for you, get a head start, but here you are, already working. Do you ever sleep?”
“Don’t call me boss. It makes me sound old.”
“Ok bo—I mean sir.”
“Come in and sit down for a moment, Penny.” Bill opens his hand, gesturing towards the seat on the other side of the desk. “I want to know more about you.”
Cautiously, she walks into the room, her gentle hair flowing over her shoulders. “Ok…”
“Tell me something about yourself, Penny.”
“Like what?”
“Anything. Tell me something about you.” Bill deliberately leaves the request open, without suggestion, to give Penny the opportunity to reveal herself. As he is sitting in a position of power in the relationship, her answer will reveal what she thinks he will be impressed by
“Um…” She takes time to think. “I guess there are a lot of things about me that you wouldn’t know, like how I love martial arts. I’m a black belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu.”
“Does your handsome boyfriend Caleb do that as well?”
“He’s one of the trainers – he’s the guy that got me back into it. I met him just over a year ago, and he said that I should come along to the classes. I used to do Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu with Aunt Nicole, but I hadn’t done it for years. After we went on a couple of dates, Caleb dragged me along, and I fell in love with it again. And him.” She giggles.
“And what does he do for a living now that he is no longer in the Marines?”
“He’s studying to be a geologist. Goes to UCLA, in his third year. He’s a bit older than me, almost thirty-two, so he’s a mature age student. But he’s working as a security guard at a nightclub near Pershing Square. It’s a rough area, and he doesn’t really enjoy it, but he gets paid well to do it.”
“So he would see a lot of drunks in his job?”
“He would.”
“And what does he think of those drunks? The ones he has to work with.”
“He hates them. Drives him wild. It all gets him really angry. I’ll be glad when he gives this job away and finds another one.”
“Are you wild, Penny?”
“I think we’re all just a little bit wild.” She smiles. “We all push the boundaries of what is acceptable, don’t we? Sometimes, things in my life can get a little wild. I have been known to lose control every now and again.”
“What about partying? Do you do a lot of that?”
“Not really. I used to go to parties a bit, but not anymore.” Penny frowns. “Life used to be all roses, peaches, and parties – but I’ve grown out of that now.”
“But you don’t drink at all?”
“No way. I’ve never wanted to touch a drop in my life. Not after what happened.” She looks away with a moment of sadness. “I just… I just couldn’t do that to myself after having seen what happens when people drink. I hate the stuff. I think I’d vomit if a drop of alcohol touched my mouth. It’s just… what happened…”
“It’s alright, Penny. You don’t need to talk about what happened. I know your past. You don
’t need to go into it.”
She nods. “I have never wanted to even try a drink. I don’t mind when people have a couple of drinks and get happy at a party, but it’s the heavy drunks that really get on my nerves. You know the ones. The addicts. The ones that can’t stop even when they want to. I hate those people.”
“If you want to work on this case, you’re going to have to leave those ideas behind, Penny. I can’t have you bringing those ideas to this table.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“I need better than that.”
“Yes, sir,” she responds.
Bill taps his fingers on his desk, thinking over the possibilities. He hates coincidences, but some are just too big to ignore.
He has always kept his enemies close. Pushed them. Forced them to make a mistake.
“Penny, I need you to find any cases that have been tried and convicted within L.A. in the last two years and have been death by strangling. I need that done before you do anything else.”
“Why’s that?”
“You don’t need to know why, Penny. You just need to get the job done.”
“But this stuff gets me excited,” Penny states with youthful enthusiasm. “Nicole said I should get really involved in the details of the case, just to get some real experience in this field of work. I really like to be involved in these cases and know what is going on. It’s like a real-life drama.”
“This is a real-life drama, Penny,” Bill corrects her. “People’s lives and futures are at stake. That’s why we try to keep a distance from the cases. We don’t want our personal attachments to a case to cloud our judgments. If we start to think about the people in these cases, then we might miss the smallest detail. And all we need is the smallest detail to blow a case apart.”
“I’m not used to something so exciting. Being a temporary worker, I’ve been sent everywhere. And I usually work in boring offices doing boring work with boring people. You know the type – the ones who say that they are ‘crazy’ because they wear a Daffy Duck tie to work. That’s not crazy. Take your clothes off and dance on the lunchroom table, then I’ll call you crazy.”
“Are you crazy, Penny?”
Fire and Justice: A Legal Thriller (Bill Harvey Book 3) Page 7
