by Adam Zorzi
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
FORTY-ONE
FORTY-TWO
FORTY-THREE
FORTY-FOUR
FORTY-FIVE
FORTY-SIX
FORTY-SEVEN
FORTY-EIGHT
FORTY-NINE
Blind Rage
By Adam Zorzi
BLIND RAGE
Copyright © 2017 by Adam Zorzi.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: June 2017
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
www.limitlesspublishing.com
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-64034-140-1
ISBN-10: 1-64034-140-4
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
Ai fantasmi di Richmond
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
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CHAPTER ONE
May
“Security was tight at the Dinwiddie County Circuit Court today, as the man known as the Psycho Killer was sentenced. He was found guilty of second-degree murder in the death of a patient in the Forensic Unit of Virginia Commonwealth Psychiatric Hospital in Petersburg eighteen months ago,” said a young woman in an ill-fitting navy blue suit, yellow blouse, and mid-heeled pumps.
“The Psycho Killer was deemed an especially high security risk. Precautions for his appearance included shackling his legs and arms to a wheelchair into which he was strapped, removing his shoes, and forcing him to wear a spit guard and blindfold.”
“He was accompanied by eight armed sheriff's deputies—two each in the front, back, and on both sides of the wheelchair. All deputies remained at a distance of more than an arm's length to prevent the Psycho Killer from seizing one of their weapons and firing.”
Fuzzy black and white video showed an unidentifiable object on wheels surrounded by deputies rolling down a hall toward the courtroom.
“This guy never had a chance,” Mark scoffed. He stood next to his associate Tom in front of the TV in his office with his arms folded across his chest.
“What do you mean?” Tom asked.
“He's called the Psycho Killer instead of his name, trussed up and blindfolded to make him look like Hannibal Lechter, and surrounded by eight armed guards. It would serve the county right if he grabbed a gun, tipped over the wheelchair, and started firing blindly. He, too, was a patient at Commonwealth Psych at the time. No one mentions that.”
An aerial shot of the hospital campus appeared on the screen as the reporter continued.
“Commonwealth Psychiatric Hospital, established in 1869, has a long history of murders, hauntings, and paranormal sightings. The 167-bed forensic unit, which is the only one in the state, houses defendants who are awaiting competency hearings as well as those inmates found not guilty of crimes by reason of insanity, or NGRI.”
“You sound…” Tom started.
“Quiet. I want to hear this,” Mark said.
“…strangling nineteen-year-old Evan Cooper to death with his bare hands. The Psycho Killer was in the state forensic hospital awaiting a competency hearing for arson and the murder of two elderly women in Lynchburg. Mr. Cooper was at Commonwealth Psychiatric Hospital to receive drug addiction treatment as his sentence for robbing a convenience store owner for cash to buy heroin.”
Mark shouted at the TV. “Absurd. Why was this teenage drug addict in the same ward that houses the most violent inmates?” He put his hands on his hips and blew out a deep breath.
File footage of the jury filing out of the courthouse after the verdict was rendered streamed behind the reporter.
“The jury was out for just thirty minutes before reaching a guilty verdict. In an exclusive interview with one of the jurors who asked not to be named, this reporter was told that the primary evidence for a guilty verdict was a surveillance tape that showed the Psycho Killer entering the victim's room three times between ten-thirty and eleven o'clock that night. After the third visit, the lights went off in the victim's room.”
“If there's surveillance video, shouldn't hospital security be watching that monitor to intervene?” Mark shouted.
“You're really wound tight about this,” Tom observed.
“It makes the state and the justice system look incredibly stupid,” Mark declared. Tom shrugged. That pissed Mark off, too. He hated that outsiders like Tom assumed southerne
rs were inferior and incompetent. Worse, this kind of justice proved their point.
“Can't wait to hear the sentence,” Mark said.
An exterior shot of the courthouse was shown.
“…sentenced to forty years, the maximum penalty allowed by law. All of us hope this brings the Cooper family some closure. Back to you.”
Tom headed back to his office. “Maybe you should handle the family's wrongful death suit against Commonwealth.”
Mark clicked off the TV. “I may just do that.”
***
Ghost Bella Davis had watched the same newscast. What a farce. That hospital should have been shut down decades ago. No accredited hospital would allow a murderer of questionable competency free rein in the same ward as a teenage drug addict. More importantly, the murderer was in proximity to Daniel. Her Daniel.
Six years earlier, she and Daniel were close to their goal of being together for eternity when he'd wavered and hurt her. She needed to teach him a lesson. She murdered his wife and framed him with the expectation that he would be remanded to Commonwealth Psychiatric for just three months. A deal was in place whereby he would then be declared competent to stand trial, his ferocious attorney Nina Lombardi would move to dismiss the charges, and the Commonwealth Attorney wouldn't object. The case would be dismissed. Daniel would be hers. They'd become eternal lovers.
In a rare miscalculation of Daniel's mental health, Bella watched helplessly as Daniel sank into catatonia for two years. Through her exhaustive efforts to find a specialist to treat catatonia, Bella found a pioneering neurologist who successfully brought Daniel back to the world. While Daniel worked to recover his physical and cognitive abilities at Commonwealth Psych, Bella gave Daniel a gift that she knew would make him happy and perhaps speed his recovery.
Bella arranged for Daniel to learn he and Bella had a daughter named LouLou who had been born in Paris and adopted by a couple in diplomatic service. By sheer happenstance, LouLou had not remained in Paris, the city of her birth, but lived in Richmond, where she worked as a DJ. This revelation made Daniel ecstatic, as Bella knew it would. He'd be on his way to health and happiness and a reunion with Bella.
Again, Bella's plan failed to bring Daniel comfort. Despite Bella's behind-the-scenes maneuvering to force LouLou to accept Daniel as her father, the stubborn, sickly woman refused. Daniel. Sweet, loving, kind Daniel who could've added so much to LouLou's life was kicked away. Naturally, her rejection only intensified Daniel's desire to be with LouLou. The sniveling LouLou made such a fuss that Daniel was sent back to Petersburg on a stalking charge.
Bella made sure LouLou paid for that. If Bella couldn't be with her lover, neither could LouLou. She snatched LouLou's lover Gregg from her by causing a car accident the day after Christmas. That stunt had been quite theatrical and fun. Dressed as an angel holding the manger child, Bella stood in the snow on the highway until a multi-vehicle pile-up occurred. Drivers swore they saw her standing serenely as she held the baby and swerved to avoid hitting her. She vanished. Witnesses spread the word that it was a miracle. Actually, Bella just made herself invisible and dumped the costume and doll in Monte Carlo, where she spent her holiday. Bella was pleased the location had become a shrine of sorts. She liked accolades.
More importantly, she'd dragged Greg out of LouLou's car and deposited him in Phuket. If he had any ghostly wits about him, he'd be able to make it back to LouLou. If not, too bad for them.
Daniel had just been released from a private hospital, but Bella intended to make sure that he'd never go to Commonwealth Psych again. She'd burn the bloody place down before she'd let that happen. Bella had a plan to make sure Commonwealth Psych wouldn’t be around for much longer while she waited for Daniel to regain his physical strength. Daniel was working hard, and Bella understood that his rehab was difficult, but she was getting impatient. She wanted him well and with her for eternity.
CHAPTER TWO
September
Mark Hoffman sat alone in the back booth of the storied Beacon Bar and Grill after glad-handing his way through lawyers and politicians having drinks after work at the courthouse and state house Friday evening. When the House of Delegates was in a special session, as they were now, Richmond was filled with politicians from all the burgs of the state looking to score big graft, a juicy alliance, or a hot hooker. Mark wanted a steak and a scotch.
He was on his second scotch when a gorgeous blonde with stunning blue eyes in a beautifully tailored black suit took the seat across from him in the booth.
“Yes, please join me,” he said, nodding to the seat.
“I don't take requests,” Bella said in her mellifluous voice that could charm even the coldest heart. “Would you like me to leave?”
The waiter served Mark's steak and didn't glance at his new companion.
“Do you want a menu?” Mark asked.
“No. I'm here to talk, but don't let your meal get cold. Please eat.”
He did. Good table manners. Didn't talk to hear the sound of his voice. She liked that in a man.
He was smart to choose the rear booth. The front was hot, noisy, and loud. If a man wanted to be able to enjoy his food without someone spilling a drink on him, hitting on him, or sidling up to him, Mark had found the perfect spot. A bit of an outsider.
“Mark. Mr. Hoffman seems too formal since we'll be working together.”
He took a sip of water. She could tell his mind was racing to place her or remember offering her a job. She sat quietly and let him work it out.
“On the Evan Cooper case,” she prodded.
“I haven't taken it yet.” He returned to his meal.
She laughed. That marvelous laugh that made most men weak. “Mark, we're not going to be able to work together if you lie to me. You have the retainer check in your jacket pocket. You didn't stop by the ATM to deposit it on the way here. The Coopers made only a nominal payment to start the proceedings and you'll be winning them a nice sum from the Commonwealth. Of course, it won't bring back their son, but it will represent a victory against the incompetent hospital administration that allowed him to be killed so brutally.”
“Keep talking,” he said as he continued to eat.
“You also have the complaint you were going to file with the court clerk, but you missed the deadline. Those doors lock at 4:59 pm. Don't worry. There are changes that should be made. You don't want to amend the complaint. Messy. Amateurish. Not the way to present yourself.”
“Who are you?” he asked after he'd finished and pushed his plate to the side.
“Someone interested in seeing that hellhole in Petersburg permanently shuttered.”
“Spend time there?” He looked her directly in the eyes.
Good sign. He was up to a challenge and had a sense of humor. “Not me. Let's just call it in the interest of justice.”
“Justice. Even a first-year law student knows that's the weakest legal argument.” He finished his scotch, set the tumbler back on the table, and placed his linen napkin to the side of it.
“Yes,” she said with a slight frown on her face, “but so many people believe it. Occasionally, they should get it. Keep up appearances for the legal machine.”
He laughed. When he did, his eyes crinkled and he looked boyish. He was handsome. Dark hair, blue eyes, tan.
“What's in it for you?”
“A way to pass the time. I'm waiting for an opportunity that won't be available for another ten months or so.” She was casual. She knew he'd cave, but she liked a bit of a chase.
“Are you even a lawyer?”
“Columbia Law. New York Bar. Supreme Court Bar.” She slid out of the booth. “You'll want to make those changes to the complaint before filing.” He looked down at the USB drive she'd placed on the dark wood table.
“What's your name?” he asked.
She was gone.
CHAPTER THREE
Mark looked up from his computer to see Bella seated in the white leather chair across from his glas
s desk. Her entrance had been completely silent.
“Genius,” he said. “Why bother with state courts when we can go federal for civil rights violations. Faster. Smarter judges. More money.”
“I thought you'd reconsider your strategy.” Bella turned her attention to wardrobe. “What are you going to wear to the press conference?”
“My navy suit, blue shirt that looks good on TV, and probably a navy tie. How about you?”
She put up her delicate hands. “I'm strictly behind the scenes. No appearances for me.”
“Come on. You're gorgeous. You'd make great TV.”
“I'm shy,” Bella said with a sly smile.
Mark burst out laughing. His eyes crinkled in that quirky way. “Shy is the last word that applies to you, but I accept your decision.” He returned to his genial mood. “What time is it scheduled?”
“Four o'clock. Time enough to make the evening news and early enough to give downtown workers a reason to leave early. I'm sure there'll be a crowd.”
“I take it you have my prepared remarks.” He sat back in his chair.
Bella placed another USB on his desk. “There are some preliminary motions to be filed as well.”
“Who are you?”
She had his attention. “Does it matter if you win the case?” She smiled and looked up at him from under her long lashes.
“No, as long as you're not acting on behalf of organized crime or dicey campaign financers.”
She knew he was only partly joking. “Rest assured, I've no ties to either of those slippery lots.”
“Well, at least tell me what I should call you.”
“Bella.” She stood to leave. As she swiveled her fine ass toward the door, she looked over her shoulder and smiled. “I'll be sure to watch you on the news. Later, Mark.”
***
He was impressive. Clearly, they had caught the attorney general's office off-guard as well as the press. Mark made his remarks and then handled questions in an intelligent, affable, and authoritative way. He could be extremely charming and was well aware of his good looks and effect on people. He'd be great in front of a jury.
