by Jonas Saul
Contents
The Depraved
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
Afterword
Jonas Saul Titles
About the Author
The Depraved
by
Jonas Saul
PUBLISHED BY:
Imagine Press Inc.
ISBN: 978-1-927404-59-1
The Depraved
Copyright © 2020 by Jonas Saul
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher, Imagine Press Inc.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Imagine Press Inc. does not have control over, or any responsibility for, any author or third party websites referred to in or on this book.
Chapter 1
That persistent nagging in her stomach refused to subside. Something dark and sinister was coming, something that would change them for having encountered it.
Sarah Roberts understood from her sister that she wasn’t going to be the same when it was over. A deep sadness would envelop her, a dark anger, too.
Yet, her sister, Vivian, refused to discuss it further. She only intimated that this wasn’t her story to tell. She’d be there when she was needed, but someone else would tell Sarah the story—their story—whatever the hell that meant.
Sarah Roberts stared at her cell phone on the table in front of her, willing it to ring. Like an ominous déjà vu, something told Sarah her phone would ring within the next few minutes and she wouldn’t like the call she got.
Whatever was happening, Vivian said it would start today. It hadn’t even been a few weeks since the ultimatum that crime boss had given her. They were still recovering emotionally after they’d buried a dear friend, rebuilt their dojo, and got the classes going again on a regular schedule. Sarah’s daughter was about to turn three-years-old, and more shit was coming to Sarah and her family without any option to back out of it.
“You okay, Sarah?” Aaron leaned across the table and grasped her hand, easing it away from the cell phone she had been squeezing.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She didn’t meet his gaze.
“You don’t look fine.”
“Gee, thanks.” She finally looked up at him.
Aaron titled his head to the side and frowned. “You know what I mean.”
Sarah lowered her gaze to her lap. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just—”
“Hey, guys,” Parkman said, his voice loud in the small café. “You ordered without me.” He yanked out a chair and dropped onto it. He glanced from one of them to the other. “Okay, why the long faces?”
Aaron shrugged and nodded toward Sarah, releasing her hand to lean back in his chair.
Parkman fixed his attention on her, then angled his body toward her.
“What’s going on, Sarah? You asked me to meet you guys on this glorious Sunday morning.” His tone dropped the playful tone, switching to the former police officer seriousness Parkman could exude on a moment’s notice. “Did something happen? Vivian say something?”
Sarah collected herself, inhaled deeply, then glanced up at the two men in her life who had been through years of shit with her. She met their eyes individually, knowing each man deserved to hear what was on her mind, but at the same time she struggled to articulate it.
“I can’t find the words,” she muttered.
“You can’t find the words?” Parkman said. “How’s that?” A deep crease in his forehead revealed the concern he exuded. He leaned closer as Aaron placed his elbows on the table moving closer as well.
Sarah stared at her phone. “It happens today.”
“What happens today?” Aaron asked.
She stared into her man’s eyes. “I don’t know yet. Vivian won’t tell me.”
“Won’t tell you,” Parkman whispered. “Why?”
“She said something about the story wasn’t hers to tell. Someone else will tell me their story. There will be notes, too.”
“Notes?” The word spat from Parkman’s mouth. “Like automatic writing? That stuff you did a decade ago?”
Sarah lifted one shoulder, her eyes on her coffee cup now. “Vivian won’t say more, but whatever’s happening, it’s happening today, or at least it starts today.”
“Can you tell us anything else?” Aaron asked.
“My phone will ring soon and I won’t like the call I get—”
Sarah’s cell phone vibrated on the table. They all exchanged a glance as she lifted it to read the screen.
“Blocked number,” she whispered.
“Let me answer it.” Aaron held out his hand, his voice carrying the note of the authoritative father figure who wanted to protect his woman.
“I got it,” Sarah whispered as she hit the answer button and held it to her ear.
“Sarah?” a woman’s voice.
“Agent DeOcampo,” Sarah said for Aaron’s and Parkman’s benefit. At least now they all knew who had called and could relax.
“You know my voice well.” DeOcampo cleared her throat. “Something has come up. When can we meet?”
“What has come up?” Sarah kept her eyes on Aaron as both men stared at her.
“Not over the phone.”
“How is it you’re still in Toronto? Weren’t you heading back to the States?”
“I was, but I’ve changed my flight out to a week from now.”
“Why?”
“Because something came up.”
“I got that part.” There was a moment of silence. Then Sarah asked, “Anything to do with a certain someone who recently gave me and my family an ultimatum?”
“Nothing whatsoever.”
“Then why the mystery?”
“Do yourself a favor and come on down to the station off of Yonge Street. I’ll wait for you.”
“I’m out having coffee with friends, DeOcampo. Why would I change my entire schedule after arranging a babysitter just to spend my Sunday morning in a police station?”
“Sarah, you’re going to want to hear this.”
&nb
sp; “And you’re going to have to give me more than your opinion of what I might want to hear or not. Start with how I’m involved with whatever’s going on there.”
“Hold on.”
DeOcampo must have placed a hand over the phone as the ruffling that came through the speaker covered hushed voices. Several seconds later, DeOcampo was back.
“A letter was delivered to a homicide detective this morning.”
“And?”
“We need you to read the letter. It’s short, trust me.”
“Read it to me then.”
“Not over the phone.”
“Why does this involve me? You said homicide—are there any bodies?”
“Sarah, listen.” DeOcampo sounded like she grunted those two words. “Several uniforms were dispatched to pick you up. Since no one knew where you were and your babysitter wouldn’t offer us anything other than her ID, they called me on my way to the airport. I raced back, read the letter, and agreed to call you on their behalf.” She took a deep breath. “I’m begging you, get in here now before this blows up and these guys blame you for the body count.”
“Body count?” Sarah raised her voice as she shot a hand in the air almost knocking over her coffee cup. Parkman caught it before it completely tipped over. “What body count? And how could they blame me?”
“According to the letter writer, it starts today. He also said the credit goes to you. Now, I’ll say it again, I beg you to come in. All we ask is you read the letter and tell us what you know.”
“How long have I got?”
“How about you’re already late, but they’re willing to give you one more hour.”
“Generous of them.”
“Not only is there a sense of urgency here, they’ve already pinged your phone. If you don’t agree to come in voluntarily, units will pick you up.” Now DeOcampo’s voice took on a tinge of worry. “Sarah, I’m imploring you to come in. Please. Of your own free will.”
“On my way.” She clicked off and set down the phone. “Fuck.”
After a swig from her coffee, she told Aaron and Parkman everything DeOcampo had said, then slid her phone across the table to Parkman.
“Take this and drive out of town for an hour. Then turn it off and head home.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew a twenty. “Here, for your gas.”
He pushed it away.
“Then buy a small lunch somewhere.” She shoved the cash into his breast pocket.
“What are you going to do?” Parkman asked.
“Aaron and I are heading to the police station to see what DeOcampo wants.”
Aaron frowned. “Then why send Parkman out of town with your phone if they’re tracking it? That’ll look like you’re bolting.”
“Precisely.”
Now both men were frowning.
“DeOcampo gave me an hour. We’ll be there in an hour. She can fucking wait.” Sarah pushed her chair back and grabbed her coffee cup. “On the way there, we need to pay a visit to a Grace Lutheran Church. There’s a pastor we need to speak with.”
“Sudden urge to confess something?” Aaron asked.
“That’s Catholic.” Sarah started away from the table. “It’s more of a sudden urge to save a life before all hell breaks loose.”
“Isn’t that cliché?” Parkman laughed. She knew they were trying to lighten her mood. It was working. Slightly.
“Perhaps more hyperbolic?” Aaron asked.
“It’s the truth.” Sarah spun around to face them. They both stopped abruptly. “Something’s coming and it sickens my stomach. Vivian keeps whispering the word depravity like it reeks of some evil we’ve never encountered before. I get the feeling this is the kind of depravity that changes people.”
“Changes people?”
“Similar to what war does to our nation’s military. Once they’ve experienced the trenches, they’re never the same. The survivors return home, but some of them died out there on the battlefield—they just don’t know that it killed them until they get home and are diagnosed with something while struggling to lead normal lives.”
“Sarah.” Aaron leaned in close. “What are you saying? How dangerous is this shit we’re facing?”
A tear crept over her lash as she eased sideways to give a couple room to pass.
“Something really bad happened, or will happen, and somehow I’m involved, yet all I want to do is walk away. Vivian said I can’t walk away and she hates that we’re involved, but it is what it is.” Sarah shook her head. “People think what I have is a gift, but they have no idea how wrong they are. Sometimes I hate what I do.” She hadn’t realized how loud she’d gotten. The café had silenced around the three of them.
She lowered her head and moved toward the door. It was unbecoming to complain, to whine the way she was, especially in such a public setting. Although, how could she not with the pervasive feeling Vivian was giving her. The dread coming through when her sister was close to her consciousness was encapsulating, the remorse and the pain, infectious.
It was like Vivian shared in the emotional toll of what was coming before it even happened.
“How fucked up is that?” Sarah whispered to herself as she pushed open the door and jogged toward their car.
Something was coming and it wasn’t going to be a few dead bodies.
No, what was coming was worse than murder.
And Sarah had the inside scoop, which was making her sick.
Chapter 2
Pastor Alden Blair led the service, while his congregation of several hundred parishioners listened. He eyed his wife and daughter in the second row of pews and smiled at them. He was nearing the end of his talk on Solomon, the man’s wise ways, and applying that to everyone’s day-to-day routines. Remember to think first, do the hard thing first, and work smarter, not harder.
“Take the common housefly for example. Leave the front door open and watch how it buzzes in the window beside that door for hours, working so very hard to pass through the glass, when all that fly needs to do is move several feet to the left and access the outside through the open door.” He paused to let that sink in, his eyes roaming the innumerable heads of his faithful, his church. “Work smarter, not harder.”
At least thirty to forty percent of his congregation nodded in understanding. Some just stared at him, seemingly uncomprehending the message, the moral of the sermon, while others were half-lidded in their attempt to remain awake. Long sermons did that to people, which was something Pastor Blair never took personal. His lovely wife of twenty years taught him that. Even God didn’t please everyone, so how could he expect to?
He found Madison Blair in the audience, his gorgeous wife, and smiled at her. His daughter, Victoria, all of fourteen now, smiled wide, eyes gleaming with adoration at her father.
Maybe he’d cut the sermon short today, allow people a chance to head home, be with their families.
“Today, I call upon you all to find someone somewhere in your life, whether it’s a family member, a coworker, or a stranger, and offer a kind word, a kind gesture. Do something for your fellow man that is unexpected and genuinely comes from a place of kindness. It doesn’t have to take money. You don’t have to buy something for them. I’m asking that you offer a kindness to help balance the negativity we all seem to face out there.” He pointed at the large double doors at the front of the church, then lowered his hand.
“Let us pray.”
Once the closing prayers were completed and the soft murmur of Amens resounded throughout the nave, everyone clambered to their feet. Pastor Blair stepped off the podium and joined his wife and daughter. The usual people crowded around them offering blessings and thanks, some asking questions. He did his best to remain polite while attempting to usher Madison and Victoria to the side where they could chat in private a moment.
Offering prayers for a lost dog, prayers for a sick mother, nodding that the church did in fact have a Facebook page, and dealing with several questions on the sermon, Pastor Blair
was finally able to get a moment alone with his wife and daughter.
“Honey, can I meet you both outside in the parking lot? I have to attend to something in the back offices. I’ll be an extra ten minutes or so.”
Madison leaned in close and smiled. “We’ll wait right here for you. Take your time.” She glanced at her watch—the Tissot he’d gotten her for Christmas last year—then back at him. “By my calculations, you finished almost a half hour early this Sunday. We have plenty of time, isn’t that right, Victoria?”
“Yes, Mom.” His daughter nodded. “We were just instructed to do something nice for someone in Dad’s sermon, so we’ll wait without it being a burden.” Victoria pulled off her backpack, withdrew her cell phone, and dropped into the nearest chair to watch TikTok or Facebook or whatever it was she always seemed to be engrossed in.
“I won’t be long.”
Pastor Blair pulled away from his wife and headed toward the back office.
A police officer had arrived at the beginning of his sermon, and even though he didn’t want to make them wait, the church service called.
Now it was time to learn why the authorities were interested in him.
After all, that was the real reason he finished early as he wanted to get this over with and get on with his day.
“Excuse me,” a woman shouted behind him, his hand on the back door, opening it.
Pastor Blair glanced over his shoulder. A tall blonde woman, slightly familiar, approached from the center of the nave, her hand elevated.
“I need a word,” she said.
He went to protest, but something in her eyes made him stop.
He let the door close and faced her, his stomach twisting with anxiety for some unknown reason. The police were waiting and now a strange woman beckoned him to wait.
What could all this mean, my Lord?
Chapter 3
They only drove twenty minutes before Sarah had Aaron pull over and park on the side of the road.
“Let’s walk through the parking lot. When we’re done here, I want to be able to just pull away and I can’t tell when church lets out.” Sarah glanced at Aaron. “The last thing we need is to be stuck behind three hundred cars and DeOcampo has sent a dozen units after Parkman.”
