Online Murder Syndicate: The Paranormal Mysteries & Adventures of Special Agent Lou Abrams (The Paranormal Mysteries & Adventure of Special Agent Lou Abrams Book 2)

by Thomas Craig

  Copyright © 2020 Thomas P Craig III

  All rights reserved.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN: 978-1-63684-811-2 (Paperback)

  ASIN: B08MVX21GX (ebook)

  Cover Concept design: Thomas P Craig III

  Cover Art design by: Arzie Gashi / AGstudio

  Author: Thomas P Craig III

  Editing: Edward Tencza

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2020922963

  Publisher Imprint: Primedia eLauch LLC, Dallas TX

  Printed in the United States of America

  Online Murder Syndicate

  Copyright © 2020 Thomas Potter Craig III

  All rights reserved.

  Prologue

  Lately, Charlie Houghton would walk the East Carolina University campus from one class to the next, taking advantage of the two-second pseudo relationships he created with each passerby. He knew he was short of being a ‘hit’ with the young ladies on campus. However, one day, three weeks ago, he mustered up the courage to smile at an anonymous woman walking by and she actually smiled back.

  He overanalyzed the encounter for days. Wait, did I know her? No, I do not know her. I don’t know any women. Do we have a class together? Probably not. Was there a guy behind me she knew? The questions regarding why she smiled back went on and on in his head.

  He determined he had to do the next logical thing; be brave and smile at other women. Charlie began smiling at strangers walking by, sometimes even giving them a casual “Hey” or “Hi” to see if they would respond. What started as a casual greeting with one woman he did not know, had turned into a full-blown social experiment.

  It was going so well that one day in the quad, he noticed a few women recognized him coming through the crowd and they would make eye contact with him, waiting for his “hello” or casual smile and head nod. When he gave the gesture, they would return it. What a feeling! His confidence climbed from the depths of a social hermit cave to above ground where things seemed sunny and possibilities were worth entertaining.

  He believed any day now he would politely stop one of the women in the quad and ask a few harmless questions. That would hopefully lead to having coffee at the Recreation Center. Possibly even a date. What was impossible for him to have imagined a month ago, seemed plausible now with his newly found courage.

  Today, the experiment was put on hold. He did not lock eyes with anyone, nor say a word as he walked from his English class to his dorm. The joys of people watching or even the thought of talking to one of the women escaped him as his mind was preoccupied.

  Charlie had received news from his father earlier that morning telling him he had been let go from his job of 30 years. To make matters worse, the company offered no retirement, no pension, and no severance package.

  Charlie, a sophomore, knew his father would not be able to continue paying for school, which meant Charlie’s future had just become unclear. Selfishly, Charlie’s thoughts meandered from the challenges of getting a degree if he had to return home to New Bern, to his recent social experiment being impacted. Nothing exceptional was waiting for Charlie in his old hometown.

  He left New Bern, a charming town of 30,000 people, a scrawny teenager that never really fit in with any cliques or social groups. Even though New Bern was a beautiful historical town, Charlie had convinced himself the town could not offer him any future he was interested in.

  New Bern’s Craven Community College meant rubbing elbows with people he thought he had left behind. He had no desire to caddy at the golf course or work as a clerk in the stores or tourist shops to make just enough money to pay for Community College. The strong work ethic the father held apparently had not been passed on to his son. Charlie was of the strong opinion that school was hard enough and having to work to pay for it was entirely too difficult.

  This layoff could be a major setback. This was unacceptable.

  He settled in his chair at the small desk provided in his dorm room, powered on his computer, and started to look up scholarships, student loans, and the cost of tuition with room and board. As his grades were average, his choices were extremely limited.

  He was about to turn off his computer when he noticed he had email in the inbox. The first two were obvious junk mail. The third had attention-getting subject line $20,000 is waiting for you, Charlie. When he clicked on the email, he wondered what kind of pyramid scheme he was about to read.

  He read the email three times. It had to be a joke of some sort. There was no other reasonable explanation. The email read…

  Charlie, we know things are not going your way right now. We would like to help you by giving you $20,000 in cash. Look behind the right corner of the dumpster at Dario’s Pizza at 8p tonight. This must stay between us. Discretion is paramount.

  ~OMS

  If this were a joke, he was not laughing. He could look past the personalization of the note, as personalized junk mail was nothing new. However, the mentioning of a pizza joint six blocks away was new and different, validating that this was meant for him and him alone. Dario’s Pizza was an exceedingly popular hangout for college students. The pizza was good and cheap and so was the cold beer they served by the pitcher.

  The next four hours were filled with failed attempts to study. Time had now run out and Charlie had to decide: was this note real enough to expend the effort to walk to Dario’s, or was he about to expend effort and time on an elaborate gag? “Oh, well,” Charlie thought. “I gotta know.” He put on a windbreaker and his ECU Pirates ball cap before heading out.

  As he walked the six blocks, his mind wandered and wondered about the possibilities of not finishing college at ECU or his social experiment. Before he knew it, Charlie was standing across the street from Dario’s. Time stood still as he paused there breathing heavily from anxiety. He tried to calm himself, and get his breathing under control, but his nerves were fried.

  There was a side alley where the dumpster was barely visible. His watch read 7:55 PM. Charlie walked across the street and entered the Pizza shop. It was crowded as usual with a diverse group of college students and a few locals. He approached the counter where a young woman waited to take his order.

  “How can I help you?” she asked.

  Charlie pretended to look at the menu above her head. “I’ll take a slice of pepperoni to go please.”

  He gave her five dollars, took his change, and stepped aside. A few minutes later he was handed a small pizza box and headed for the door. He opened the box and took a bite before exiting. As he stepped out front, he continued to take several more bites of the delicious pizza. After he finished the last piece of the crust, he closed the slightly greased stained box and headed around the corner to the dumpster.

  There were only a few people around outside the restaurant and they seemed to be preoccupied with their activities to notice someone throwing a box away in a dumpster around the corner. However, Charlie wanted to make sure he did not look suspicious as he looked
around, so he dropped the box at the right corner of the dumpster to give himself a reason to bend down and look to see if something was behind the large metal container.

  There it was. A brown package the size of his single slice pizza box was on the ground between the back of the dumpster and the wall. Charlie grabbed it and tucked it under his windbreaker and then quickly picked up the pizza box and tossed it in the dumpster. No one was watching as he walked away. He could not wait until he returned to his dorm to open the package, so he decided to take a seat on a nearby bench around the corner.

  There was a part of Charlie that was thinking, “This is how much twenty thousand dollars weighs,” as he opened the package. He flipped open the end, slid his hand into the box, and immediately connected with cold metal. He gently pulled the object out revealing a handgun. Surprised, he slid it back into the box and looked around. After catching his breath, he reached back in and pulled out some paper. It was a note wrapped around what seem to be about a thousand dollars in twenty-dollar bills.

  Eliminate Emmitt Gaffney and leave no witnesses. This must be done tomorrow at 9p at his place of residence. 3554 Pine Lane, Raleigh, NC. The rest of the money will be waiting in the same place at the same time the following day. Charlie, either you do this or someone else will. But if it is not you, then someone else will get a package like this with your name and address and your father’s address too.

  Charlie felt the blood leave his head and started to feel ill. All that kept going through his mind was ‘how could this be happening?’

  CHAPTER 1

  Cherry Point

  The knock on the door sent Andy into motion. He gave his standard three barks as he leaped off our bed and ran down the stairs. I heard him give three more barks at the door. We both looked at each other and smiled, but it only lasted for a second.

  “Shoot! Did we not set our alarm?” She asked.

  I knew we had set our alarm, but I turned it off. The Sun woke me up every morning like clockwork. I had no control over that. I woke up an hour ago but decided to opt-out of my morning run and lay with Arya an extra hour.

  Andy usually came along with me on morning runs, so missing this morning’s run had him antsy and scratching at the front door. It could also have been that Andy was excited to see Lauren. Andy and I had just returned from additional FBI explosive training. He had some socializing to do with Lauren who gave herself away with her knocking pattern on our door.

  I had the dream again last night. The one with me in the sterile white lab room, strapped to the cold table with bright lights shining in my face. Nothing good ever happened in that dream. Nothing. Thankfully, I woke up before the testing had begun. I normally counted on a morning run to help clear my head a little. However, lying awake with Arya in my arms for an hour seemed to have centered me.

  I strongly believed that this reoccurring dream is an omen I try to keep from entering reality. It has always been a daily struggle. I hide a piece of myself from just about everyone I know to keep myself safe from prejudice.

  Less than a year ago, Special Agent Arya Shah of the FBI came into my life. As a former detective, I was working on a case in concert with the FBI that involved a serial rapist and killer. Over a short period together, Arya and I quickly realized that we worked well together, and we also developed deep feelings for each other.

  “I’ll get the door,” Arya said as she slipped on her sweats and a T-shirt. She looked over her shoulder with a smile, as if knowing I was getting one last glimpse before our day started. I was, so in fairness, I pulled back the covers to show my legs and made a silly gesture with my hand as if presenting my legs for her viewing. It got the laugh from her I was looking for as she left the room.

  I hit the shower and got dressed in record time. Arya came in to get ready and told me Lauren was having coffee downstairs.

  Lauren, about ten years younger than us, was new to the Atlanta area. She knew her way to our apartment and liked carpooling with us. We’re all on the same FBI team in Atlanta and have built a tight bond on a previous case. Our team was a bit of a cross between behavioral science support to local law enforcement and straight-up case assignments that put us in the field.

  Lauren did not need to carpool for any financial reasons, as she had made millions on the software she designed while at MIT. The same software that had the FBI recruiting her right out of college. Lauren could have stayed in the private sector, making more money than she could spend in five lifetimes, but she enjoyed both the challenge and the excitement a life in the FBI afforded her.

  The FBI, well, Arya recruited me this past year from my detective position in the Mableton PD just West of Atlanta. Lauren and I just graduated from Quantico together and have been assigned to Arya’s team.

  “How is Jack doing?” I asked Lauren as I entered the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.

  Jack is the son of my old partner, Roy Cable. On a date with Lauren a couple of months ago, they both were in the wrong place at the wrong time. A random shooting left a stray bullet in Jack’s rib and shoulder, and Lauren’s shoulder. In the hospital, I healed Lauren, but too much suspicion would have been raised if I had healed Jack too.

  Lauren had been spending her weekends with Jack and yesterday marked the completion of Jack’s first week of shoulder therapy.

  “Too soon to tell. I felt bad leaving this morning. He was in a little pain after last night’s therapy. He’s a tough cookie though,” she said with an encouraging smile. More for herself than for me.

  Lauren and Jack had only been on one date and she has been by his side every spare minute she has had the last couple of months.

  I asked Arya if she thought Lauren was hanging around Jack out of guilt, but she assured me they were truly falling for each other and were all smiles when together, which is nice. Jack was a great guy and understood the life of a Law Enforcement Officer or Agent. An understanding relationship does quite a bit in keeping agents grounded, even one as intelligent as Lauren.

  “Yes, he is very tough. He puts up with your ugly mug,” I said. That comment earned me a quick jab just under my last rib. Well placed and hard enough to involuntarily force out some air as I tried to laugh. It got a laugh from her and that was my goal. I could see her shoulders relax a bit and some of the stress left her face.

  I sat down next to her and sipped my coffee. Lauren and I developed a strong bond while at Quantico. We were running and sparring buddies, but also hit the books together from time to time.

  When I saw her laid up in the hospital from a senseless random drive-by act of violence that left a stray bullet in her shoulder, I knew I had to do something. We were in the home stretch of five months of training at Quantico. Had I not healed her, she would have had to leave Quantico, and being an FBI field agent would have not been an option anymore. She understood why I did not heal Jack and she never made me feel guilty for that choice.

  I cannot recall how many times I have healed myself, ranging from a cut on the knee, a broken bone or two, and even as bad as a borderline lethal gunshot wound. But it was not until I healed Lauren and a couple of others before her, that I started to realize some of the ‘other’ side effects involved in healing others. More to come on that later.

  Only four people outside of the Zuni tribe know about my healing powers; Special Agent Arya Shah, whom I have grown very close to over the last 6 months, Lolo Manooe, my lifelong friend, Agent Lauren O’Quinn, and FBI Atlanta Office Special Agent in Charge Thomas Cooley.

  As strange as it sounds, I am “allegedly” the product of the Zuni Sky God choosing my mother for what I consider an unsolicited one-night stand. It is not uncommon in my culture to believe that Gods descend and select females to have their ‘Star Children’. The twist on this ritual is the Gods’ return to claim their offspring years later. My mother took me and left the pueblo to avoid having me taken. It seemed to have worked.

  I always thought I got my bright blue eyes from my Dutch father, but I recently foun
d out the truth that they are from Apoyan Tachu. However, I think there is some unsettled business between the Zuni Sky God and myself. Children of the Gods are not left behind for long, as they may cause an unbalance in the world when they start discovering and using their powers, which does make for good folklores.

  I recently returned to the Pueblo to visit my dying mother. While there I had a run-in with a couple of Sky People, one with bright blue eyes. It was my first time seeing them and I would be okay if it was my last time. Seeing seven-foot creatures that can illuminate, go from solid to transparent in a blink of an eye, move just as fast, and zip up into the sky before you can get the words ‘what the hell?’ from your mouth, can be a bit mind-blowing for the average mortal. Which made me question, and not for the first time, am I mortal?

  Sky People can be angles or Gods and rarely take a form that anyone can see. Sometimes Shaman can talk to them through prayer or meditation and some have claimed to see them at times. For me to have seen two and to have touched one, had created quite the conversation within the Zuni elders.

  Arya seemed to be adjusting well to the fact that I may be a Demigod. After taking the recent trip to Halonawa, the pueblo, meeting and talking with my family about me, and being a part of the “encounter” with the Sky People, she seems more at peace with what I am…and she still loves me. I cannot express how lucky I am to have her in my life. A constant weight has been lifted off my chest having that special someone that accepts you and can relate with the secrets.

  “Lauren, are you getting anywhere with your tech team?” We were on this Online Murder Syndicate, or “OMS” case for a few weeks now and getting nowhere. Lauren had created a Trojan Horse Virus to infiltrate the OMS, but what she lacked was a recent invitation or way to reach them.

  We had retrieved a computer from the home of a recent suicide victim. Local Police discovered an interesting note on the hard drive while looking for a letter from the victim possibly expressing their farewells.