The Depraved (A Sarah Roberts Thriller Book 26)

by Jonas Saul

  Then it occurred to him that it was Victoria who was crying.

  But where was she? And why was the cop injured?

  Nothing made sense.

  He pushed up onto one elbow, felt the contents of his breakfast move in his stomach, and had the sudden urge to vomit. He stayed on one elbow for a moment, waiting to see if it would pass, then wondered why he hadn’t asked for God’s help. He was a man of faith. Shouldn’t he be seeking divine aid?

  He brought his knees up under him, then pushed higher with his elbow until the van took a hard turn. The force of the turn caused him to lose his balance, fall sideways into the van’s wall, and drop back to the floor where he smacked his head.

  Someone seemed to turn off the lights because everything went dark.

  The van wasn’t moving when Pastor Blair woke up.

  But then he wished he hadn’t woken, because he knew where he was, and because of where they were, he was pretty sure he knew who had taken his family.

  The woman had brought them all to Hell, and there was nothing he could do about it as this was probably where he would die.

  Pastor Blair began to pray, knowing he was about to die.

  Chapter 5

  Sarah pointed to a parking spot and Aaron angled in. He followed her into the police station where they were directed to an area to wait after being given passes for access.

  “Vivian tell you more yet?” he asked.

  Sarah bounced her right leg in anticipation. “Nothing.”

  “So, you have no idea why we’re here?”

  “I know nothing more than what DeOcampo said on the phone.”

  Aaron got up and stared through a window at the inside of the station. “What could Vivian be hiding?”

  She stared up at him. “Whatever it is, she’s not happy about it.”

  Aaron pivoted around to stare at her. “My point is, what would freak out your sister on the other side?”

  Sarah shrugged, then straightened the lines in her jeans, rubbing her thighs. “That’s what’s scaring me.”

  “You’re nervous.” It was an observation, not a question.

  “I’ve never felt Vivian like this.” She met his gaze. “No idea what’s coming, but I can tell you this, I don’t want any part of it—”

  The door to Aaron’s left smacked open.

  “Don’t want any part of what?” DeOcampo asked.

  Sarah got to her feet. “Whatever you’re going to tell us.”

  “But you’re here.”

  “I’d rather drive here and listen to what you have to say than have uniforms pick us up. Always better on my terms.” She smiled wide, held it a moment, then dropped the smile to a deadpan stare.

  DeOcampo wasn’t fazed. She pushed the door open farther and gestured toward the hallway beyond.

  “Follow me.”

  Aaron held the door and Sarah followed the detective down a long hall, through a set of cubicles, and into a large conference-like room.

  “We’re moving up, Aaron.”

  “How’s that?” DeOcampo asked.

  “Usually when we’re in police stations, we’re in an interview room being interrogated—often in a basement setting. Dark and dank. This is much better.”

  “Yeah, well, this time they’re looking for your help.”

  “Often that’s the case in those other instances, too.”

  She stared out the window at the building beside them, a small strip of grass between the two structures. There was no real view to speak of, but at least it had a window.

  “Coffee?”

  Sarah spun around. The detective stood by the door as if itching to leave.

  “Sure. Black.”

  “Aaron?”

  “Same.”

  The door closed and they were alone.

  Aaron moved to stand beside her. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

  “How so? Not that I’m not agreeing with you. Just want to hear your thoughts.”

  “DeOcampo is different. We were working with her only a few weeks ago.”

  “Working with her? Is that what you’d call it? I think we had her on the run most of the time and we’re lucky to have gotten out of that shit without charges.”

  Aaron placed a hand on the glass, then rested his forehead against it. “We’ll listen to them, then head home. That work?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  The door opened behind them and a tall, thick man, stepped inside wearing a dress shirt and tie. A Manila envelope was tucked under his left arm.

  “Detective Donovan Hunter,” he said, extending his hand to each of them. “We’ll be working together with DeOcampo for as long as she can stay in the country.”

  “Working together?” Sarah glanced at Aaron, then back to the detective. “Didn’t know that was happening. Who volunteered us?”

  “She didn’t tell you?”

  The door opened again. “I didn’t tell them anything yet.” DeOcampo entered, a coffee in each hand. “Was getting them these.”

  “Ahhh,” Detective Hunter said. “Well, then, let’s take a seat and we’ll show you what we have.”

  Everyone dropped into chairs and the coffees were placed in front of Sarah and Aaron. Tentatively, Sarah took a sip. The coffee wasn’t too bad for a police station. Maybe they served the cops a better brew than the people being questioned downstairs.

  “So.” Hunter eyed them all. “Since this is my case, I’d like to begin with Aaron.”

  “Aaron?” Sarah asked, glancing from DeOcampo to Hunter. “No issue, but that came as a surprise.”

  “Yeah, I’m surprised, too. Why me?” Aaron placed a hand over Sarah’s, then tightened it in comfort.

  “Your name was on the letter we received, as well as yours.” Hunter looked at Sarah. “It seems you’re both inspiring the letter writer.”

  “How so?” Sarah asked.

  “You gonna show us the letter?” Aaron asked.

  “In time. First things first.”

  Sarah leaned back and sipped from her coffee. “Go ahead, this is your show.”

  “Aaron,” DeOcampo started. “What can you tell us about Joanne?”

  Aaron jolted in his seat ever so slightly, his hand coming away from Sarah’s.

  “No one has asked me about my sister in over ten years. What’s this got to do with her? She’s dead.”

  “That’s what we’re trying to determine. Tell us about her. What did she do for a living? Where did she live? What happened to her?”

  “It’s all in the homicide file. I’m sure you have access to it. There’d be more in there than I could ever tell you.”

  Hunter nodded. “We’ve read it, but we feel Detective Folley left pertinent things out.”

  “Folley was an asshole.”

  “No argument there. He left the department about five years ago. Bungled so many cases. In one case, several suspects were released due to his malfeasance, only to rob an adult store the day they were released. Killed the clerk. Folley left before he was fired, or worse, arrested.”

  “I hope I never see him again. For his sake.”

  DeOcampo leaned forward and clasped her hands together. “Tell us about Joanne.”

  Aaron shrugged. “Not much to tell. Rough childhood, got into drugs, stripping, and then found her way into the clutches of a dead man named, Clive Baron.”

  “How did he die?”

  “He had an accident in Greece. His car went off a cliff near an ancient prison called, Palamidi, in a small town called, Nafplio. The Greek authorities investigated and ruled it an accident.”

  “Even though you and your three dojo teachers were all there?” Hunter asked.

  Aaron smiled wide, like he was relishing the fact that Baron was dead. “Am I on trial here?”

  DeOcampo glanced at Hunter, then back to Aaron. “Sorry, we’re used to being aggressive with our questions. No, you’re not on trial. We need help, not an argument.”

  “The long and short of it was, B
aron kidnapped my sister, killed her, Detective Folley did a shit job, so I investigated Baron on my own terms. He shot me, nearly killed me, and my three friends flew to Greece to save my ass. Baron died. End of story.”

  “How did Joanne die? Were you made aware?”

  “I did the positive ID.” Aaron glanced down at the table as if remembering a painful time. “She was found, missing her breasts.” He glanced up. “They were cut off and the knife was shoved up her vagina.”

  Hunter and DeOcampo exchanged a glance and sat back, both seemingly unsettled.

  Sarah had heard all the details many years ago, but forgot how brutally painful Joanne’s death would have been. Maybe that was why Aaron wanted a calmer, more peaceful life. All the violence and murder over the past decade had to be wearing on him.

  “How is this relevant?” Aaron asked.

  Hunter pushed the Manila envelope across the table. “Perhaps it’s time you both read the letter.”

  Sarah opened the envelope, read the first few lines and gasped.

  She eased the paper to the side so Aaron could read it, too.

  When they were done, they looked at each other, then at the detectives.

  “You ready to tell us what you know?” Hunter asked.

  Chapter 6

  “Stop fucking praying,” the woman shouted, spit flying from her mouth. “You think there’s a God looking down on you, you fucker?”

  She slapped him hard upside the head, flaring his headache. Blair winced and tried to crawl away.

  “Don’t you fucking move. Stay where you are or I’ll shoot you in the kneecap and watch you squirm and bleed out, bitch.”

  Blair wanted to nod, to say something, but his head was filled with white-hot pain. He lowered himself to the floor of the van and waited for the pain to subside.

  Something slid along the paneling. He risked opening his eyes and saw the cop—Officer Barnes—sliding by him. When the big man hit the ground outside the open doors, Blair had to look away as the bright sunshine was too taxing on his headache. It felt like his head had been split open, cracked along the top from ear to ear. Maybe it actually had split open. That baseball bat wasn’t forgiving.

  Moments later, his wife slid out and dropped to the ground.

  Then the crazy woman grabbed his heels and yanked. He was briefly airborne, then the ground punched the air out of his lungs making him cough and gasp, his head flaring even worse—which he didn’t think was possible.

  Blair couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped his lips.

  “All of this is your fault. Everything.”

  “I’m sorry—” he managed to say.

  “Fuck your sorry. You’ll all pay for what you did.”

  “I made amends—”

  “Not to me you didn’t. And even if you did, wouldn’t matter.”

  He blocked the sun with his forearm and opened his eyes to slits. The woman stood over him with the baseball bat.

  “Please,” he whispered, then a cough escaped him, making him cringe with the pain. “Don’t do this.”

  “Too late. Remember, you did this, not me.”

  She raised the bat over her head and brought it down on the cop’s face with enough force to crack a large rock. Then she did it again, and again, blood bursting upward into the woman’s mouth and eyes, covering her neck and shirt. Her smile and grunting laugh with each damaging blow made him think she was auditioning for a Rob Zombie movie where the killers seemed to take great joy in the act of destroying a living human body.

  Pastor Blair rolled to the side and vomited, his head feeling like it was being pounded with a thousand tiny hammers on the inside.

  “Roll back over,” the woman gasped. “Geez, I’m out of breath. This shit is tiring work. Skulls are tougher than I thought.”

  Blair held his stomach. He spit the bile out of his mouth and swallowed in an attempt to stave off another episode of his clenching gut.

  “I said turn back over or I’ll force you.” She stepped into his field of vision. “I will tie you in position, tear off your eyelids, and while your eyes dry out, I will force you to watch, you sick fuck.” She nudged him with the blood-soaked bat. “Turn over. Now.”

  Pastor Blair eased onto his back with great effort, but avoided looking at the dented and broken head of the man who had waited for him in his office a short while ago.

  “Where’s my daughter?” Blair asked, praying she got away.

  “She’s gone. I don’t have a beef with her, and I don’t kill kids. What the fuck do you think I am? A monster? I’m not like you.”

  “Thank God,” he whispered.

  The woman moved to stand over Blair’s wife, then raised the bat over her head yet again.

  “Jamie?” Blair whispered. “It’s Jamie, right? Please, don’t.”

  Jamie paused. “You remember my name.” She lowered the bat and leaned on it. “How did you know it was me?” She gestured at her face, her body. “I’ve changed, disguised myself.”

  “This place. What happened here all those years ago.”

  Jamie glanced around the area. “Right. It all happened right over there.” She faced him again. “But I’ve changed. I’ve had surgery. So, naturally I’m surprised you recognized me.”

  “I’m sorry … so sorry. Please forgive me.”

  “Is this where you beg for your life, your wife’s life?”

  “Yes. Please. I’ll beg.”

  “Ha!” She lifted the bat again. “That’s not begging.”

  Her arms flexed like she was going to strike Madison.

  “Wait!” Blair shouted, the pain in his head making him grit his teeth and scrunch his eyes.

  There was no thud, no bat making contact with anything while his eyes were shut.

  “I’m waiting,” Jamie whispered.

  “Please, I’ll do anything. Take me instead, kill me, but let my wife raise our daughter. I did this. It’s my fault. My mistake. I owe you. This is on me.” He started to cry, scattered details of that night so long ago coming back to him. “Please,” he whimpered.

  It was that night that changed his life. He decided to serve God for the remainder of his life, to right those wrongs that could never be taken back. To offer penance on a daily basis, and ask forgiveness in service to God.

  “If my life is forfeit,” he continued, “so be it. A righteous punishment. But my wife wasn’t there. She doesn’t even know what happened.”

  Jamie edged closer until her body was blocking the sun. “You mean you didn’t tell her?” There was a mocking nature to her tone. “After all these years? You kept secrets from your wife?”

  “That’s something I couldn’t tell anyone.”

  “How about your Lord? You told him?”

  “He’s all knowing. He watched what happened. I didn’t have to tell him. We spoke about it, but that was me asking for forgiveness.”

  “Wait a second.” Jamie raised a finger. “You’re saying He was an onlooker? Your God watched what happened that day?”

  “He sees everything.”

  “And He didn’t try to stop it?”

  “That’s not how things work.”

  Jamie got to her feet and stood over Madison’s inert form, the blood-stained bat in her right hand.

  “You’re lying.” She shook her head. “Even when it counted the most, right now, in this barn, you’re lying.”

  “No, please.”

  “Madison knows. You told your wife what you did to me, and she let it go because you repented.”

  Blair looked up into Jamie’s eyes and saw a madness there, a determination to follow through with whatever she had planned. She’d already killed a man with the bat, so would a few words spare his wife? He had to try, though.

  “You think I’m going to Hell for what I’ve done?” she asked him.

  “Not if you repent, genuinely ask for forgiveness and mean every word. I can help with that. Together we will work our way through this.”

  “You know, y
ou religious types are all the same.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You sent me to Hell that day. You,” she spat the word, “killed me. Anything resembling Jamie died that night and I’ve been in a living Hell ever since. And yet you still preach that we can all be saved. How dare you!”

  “Jamie.” He tried to ignore the raging fury in his head and keep his eyes on hers. “Please, I’m sorry, so, so, sorry for what I’ve done. We will work this out. I will help. There’s still a chance. I can make this right.”

  “You’re not listening,” she said in a singsong voice.

  He decided to remain quiet a moment, to breathe, to listen to her, to make sure he was thinking properly. There had to be a way to stop this, to fix it.

  “You killed me a long time ago. Been living in Hell ever since. Now I’m here to send you to Hell where you belong.”

  She raised the bat over Madison’s head.

  “Jamie, no!” Pastor Blair shouted, but his words fell on deaf ears.

  The bat swung hard, connecting with his wife’s head again and again, her body jerking with each blow, and there was nothing he could do to stop it but close his eyes and fervently pray for his own soul.

  Jamie forced his eyes open minutes later, her face a macabre visage of blood and madness.

  She showed him a coat hanger, displayed her teeth in a twisted smile that revealed several levels of insanity, and went to work untwisting the hanger until it was a long bent piece of wire.

  Pastor Blair screamed in his final moments, the pain from what she was doing to him ten times worse than anything his head had gone through that day.

  Then Jamie blessedly ended his screams with several severe blows to the head.

  Chapter 7

  “It would appear you know more than we do,” Sarah said, pushing the envelope back to their side of the table. “Why did you get this letter, Detective?”

  “Why me?” Hunter tapped his chest once. “Who knows? I mean, I work homicide, so why not me?”

  “Based on this letter, there will be several people killed. Any bodies turn up yet?”

  Hunter shook his head.

  “So, you’re a homicide detective working homicide, and there’s no bodies? Essentially, no homicides?”