Tag Archives: Novel

Chapter Fifty — eight: Intelligence

11 Apr
Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

It did not take a forensic accountant to realize what the briefcase showed. It was evidence. But not proof. At least not proof of murder.

It was proof of something. The briefcase belonged to one William Pardot. His wife was an executive who was embezzling big chunks from her company. William was a family man with a wife and daughter who had several women on the string, though at minute there was only one.

L C Davenport.

As L C went through the items in the briefcase she talked to Wilbur, trying to draw him out. Trying to understand the fantasy world he lived in. She was able to draw some valid conclusions about Cody and their relationship together. It sounded like a younger brother’s worship of an older brother who seemed like the man of steel. What she did not realize was that Lonnie was not really Wilbur and was not really his brother.

All of the materials were here for blackmail. And one item that showed where the money was to come from.

Bill Pardot’s soon to be eighteen year old daughter had a college fund that was to mature on her birthday. Five hundred thousand dollars. Peter Johnson, alias Mr. Penn, wanted all of it. According to the papers in the briefcase Mr. and Mrs. Pardot had agreed to give it all to him.

“This is good stuff. Problem is it doesn’t prove anything. You remember last night when the dog bit the person in the shadows?”

“Yeah.”

“You remember the voice when the dog bit? For a second the person forgot to mask out the voice. Did you hear it?”

Lonnie racked his brains. “No.”

“I do. I know who it was killed Mr. Penn. You can bet it was the same person killed your brother too. But we don’t have any evidence you connect the two. But we can trap them into confessing to Mr. Penn’s murder. Are you okay with that? We nail the killer we nail the killer, right? Does it matter whether they get convicted for one or both so long as they get punished, right?”

“Hmmm. Yeah.” Lonnie wasn’t as sure as he would like to be, but it did sound right.

“They probably won’t get convicted more for one than for two anyway, right?”

“Yeah.” Lonnie was a little more sure.

“You think you can help me? We can work together on this. Like your brother did. You think you could wire me up and record me? Like they do on cop shows?”

“I know I can.”

© 2015 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Fifty — Seven: The CIA

15 Feb
Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

 

 

 

 

For a long time L C had time to lay and think. She had nothing but time and discomfort. She had never heard of Cody Daggit. His listing in the newspaper was a one inch column. The information given was consistent with what would have been expected. Known druggie found dead of a drug overdose. L C had not seen it.

 
The murdered man had gotten around. The police thought he was her fiance, Nathaniel Norman. This guy, who kidnapped her, thought he was a CIA agent named Mr. Penn.

 
In the newspapers he was known as Peter Johnson.

 
It was beginning to work out in her head. Peter Johnson had hired a druggie named Cody Daggit to wire the cabin with surveillance equipment. Peter Johnson told the druggie he was a CIA operative. He also told the druggie the cabin was a safe house for the CIA.

 
That meant somewhere there were videos of L C and Nathaniel that were extremely intimate.

 
The police could not find any person named Nathaniel Norman. He did not exist. They also said Peter Johnson was the real owner of the cabin. So Peter Johnson had his own cabin wired by a druggie who was part techie geek.

 
Great.

 
Why?

 
Worse, Cody’s drugged out brother was going to wake up soon. He thought she was CIA. He thought the CIA had killed his brother. Why had he kidnapped her? What did he hope to gain? What did he plan on doing with her?

 
When Lonnie groaned into wakefulness L C was still trying to figure out how she could use any of this information to her advantage.

 
Eventually he propped her chair up so she was sitting upright in spite of the fact one of the legs was broken off. Lonnie took the gag out of her mouth. It was wet and yucky. He tossed it into a corner. He studied her carefully as though trying to make up his mind to something.

 
“I wish you wouldn’t look at me until I’ve at least brushed my hair and teeth.” L C said, as pleasantly as possible.

 
“Not very tough for a CIA agent are you?”

 
L C did not know what to answer so she said nothing. They held each others eyes. When she said nothing he nodded. “Just like Cody said about Mr. Penn. Neither confirm nor deny.”

 
He went back to the couch and sat down.

 
L C added this bit of information to the puzzle she was trying to form in her head. She was sure when she had enough pieces in enough places it would all make sense.

 
“What happened to the dog?”

 
“Left it on the front seat in the middle of an intersection. Figure someone report it. Or a cop come by. Figger the dog’s owner’ll take care of it.”

 
“What do you plan on doing with me?” For a split second Lonnie noticed she spoke clear and perfect English even though she was under duress. Everybody he knew would have said, “Whadda ya gonna do wi’ me?” It proved to him that CIA training must be pretty spectacular.

 
Lonnie thought about that for a minute. Everything had been so clear last night. Today. Well today shit was wearing off. He didn’t have the edge he needed. He wanted to go get what he needed but he didn’t want to leave this CIA agent alone for too long. No telling what resources she might have.

 
“Why the CIA kill Cody? He learn too much? Why did Mr. Penn give Cody an overdose?”

 
“CIA didn’t kill Cody.” L C Wasn’t sure why she told him that. She only knew it was the best thing to say. If this guy, Wilbur, thought she was CIA then she did not want him thinking the CIA killed his brother.

 
“Then who did?”

 
“The same person who killed Mr. Penn. That is his Spy Name. His cover name was Peter Johnson. Mr. Penn tried to save Cody. But he was too late.” L C could tell she had Wilbur’s interest. Her mind was working at frantic speed, hoping to say the right things. Hoping he wouldn’t get some idea in his drug induced fantasies to kill her.

 
Lonnie, who had forgotten he had pretended last night to be Wilbur Daggit, Cody’s brother, was interested. He wanted to hear more. If the CIA hadn’t whacked Cody, then there was still a chance he himself might work for them someday. Be a hero. Like Cody. But he would try to be more careful than Cody and not get killed.

 
“So who did kill Cody?”

 
“That is one of the things we have to find out.” L C didn’t care about an overdosing druggie named Cody, but she did care about finding Peter Johnson’s murderer. Anything to prove herself innocent of the crime she did not do.

 
She watched Wilbur closely as he mulled things over in his mind. He reached behind the couch. Pulled out a brief case.

 
“That’s Nathaniel’s.” L C burst out in surprise.

 
“You recognize it.”

 
“Yes.”

 
“It has some stuff in it. I think it is in code. Can you decipher it?”

 

“Can you untie me?”

 
Lonnie studied her closely.

 
“No. I want you to look at these papers. Tell me what they mean.”

 
It wasn’t easy to do. Him holding up one paper at a time was difficult to keep track of the papers she had seen before.

 
“Look, Wilbur,” she said at one point, pausing him to stop and almost correct her before he remembered. She did not know him as Lonnie. She knew him as Wilbur. “This is almost impossible. If I could at least spread them out on the floor.”

 
Something about her not knowing who he really was enabled him to release her more easily.

 
So he untied her.

 

 

 
© 2015 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Fifty — Six: The Garage

8 Feb
Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Lonnie drove the pickup without incident into town and up the alley to Cody’s old garage. He pulled L C out from the back of the pickup, chair and all. Drug her, using the back of the chair, and the two hind legs as if it were a dolly. Then the right leg broke and it keeled over, taking L C with it.

It had been a long day. Lonnie was tired. He did not want to have to move another muscle let alone carry L C.

Finally, with a sigh, he went to the other end of the chair, grabbed the two front legs, and drug her by them, the back of the chair and her head bouncing every inch of the way.

He went back out to the pickup. Got the dog out from the back. It was no longer interested in fighting with him, it just lay limp in his arms, looking painfully at him. Lonnie placed it in the front seat as gently as he could, considering how exhausted he was.

He drove the pickup to an intersection that was sporadically busy, where Lonnie knew there were no cameras to identify him, left the driver’s side door open, turned on the emergency lights, and left it in the middle of the street.

By the time he got back to the garage he fell onto the couch and quickly went to sleep.

Chapter Fifty — Five: And Lonnie Makes Three

7 Dec
Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

 

 

Lonnie did not turn the pickup lights on. He traveled over the hill in near darkness. He would like to have gone faster but felt being unseen was the best card he could play in the situation.

 
Patience did not come easily. Luckily the pickup was new, silent, and dark colored. There were a lot of back roads up here, they led in a lot of directions. If it were not for he fact he had a prisoner stashed in a closet in the safe house going over the top of the hill would not have been the most reasonable thing to do.

 
On the other hand, simply because it would be unreasonable, it would also be unexpected.

 
Coming at the house, not uphill from the road, but downhill from the hill itself, Lonnie coasted the last two miles. Catching the person in the ninja suit by surprise. They had been listening for an engine, not the small hiss of rolling tires.

 
“Keep quiet,” said the breathy voice, “or I will shoot you first.”

 
L C’s heart began to race.

 
Footsteps could be heard on gravel, up the creaky steps, across the porch. The front door opened. Steps entered. The door was not pushed shut. Steps sounded down the hall, around the wall, and proceeded to the closet. There was fumbling. The closet door opened.

 
Frantic movements followed. A man’s voice cussed.

 
“She is behind you.” A breathy voice said.

 
Lonnie stepped back and spun around quickly trying to find the source of the voice. So Quickly he collided with L C and the chair she was tied to. He tried to grab hold of it to steady himself. Instead he grabbed L C’s face. She pulled it out of his grasp, pulling off the blindfold in the process.

 
Lonnie, chair, and L C crashed to the floor.

 
L C did her best to keep her wits about her, to try to understand where she was and what was happening. Lonnie just groaned.

 
“That is pathetic,” said the breathy voice.

 
Lonnie struggled to rise up. When he did so the voice continued, “I have a gun. I will use it. Don’t try anything smart or you will die before we have a chance to chat.”

 
Lonnie began to shake. Starting with his chin and finding a home somewhere in his knees. Wild eyed he searched the darkness for the source of the voice.

 
“Pick her up.” Lonnie looked around. There was some lighter patches of dark. He searched them.

 
“In the chair fool. Pick her up.”

 
Lonnie moved, bumped the chair with his foot. Struggled to set L C upright. Eventually he succeeded.

 
“Tell me,” ordered the breathy voice, “who you are and why you are here.”

 
“My, my name. My name is Wilbur Daggit. I’m Cody Daggit’s brother. You people killed my brother.”

 
There was a pause before the breathy voice continued. “You people? Explain?”

 
“I know you people are with the CIA. I know you had my brother killed. I know this is a safe house. I followed all of you here. I know. I know.” Lonnie began to sidestep back and forth, one side to the other. “Cody was working for Mr. Penn. A CIA agent who brought Cody here a couple of times.”

 
Another pause. Then the breathy voice asked directly, “Are you on drugs?”

 
“Hey, man, I’ve cut way back, dude. Way back. And only the good stuff. Drugs got nothing to do with what I know. I know Cody was setting up spy equipment for you guys, for the CIA, and he learned too much and you killed him.”

 
“Spy equipment here? In the safe house?”

 
“Yeah. For the guy who got who got killed here. The newspaper called him something else, but his name he told Cody, was Mr. Penn.”

 
Whatever the breathy voice from the darkest corner of the room was going to say next was cut short.
Something lunged panting onto the porch. Long toe nails scrapped across the wooden floor of the hallway and rounded the corner.

 
From out of nowhere the dark, shadowy shape of a german shepherd appeared. It was headed for lonnie, but the person in the ninja suit reacted before it realized that fact. Shot. There was a flash. There was sound as the bullet left the barrel. Another sound as the dog howled in fury and turned toward the person who had wounded it.

 
Harry had been following the pickup for miles, intent on the driver, Lonnie. The pain, the attack, from the darkest corner of the room came as a complete surprise. However he did not hesitate.

 
Two shadows formed in front of the window, which was only minimally lighter than the rest of the inside of the cabin. Then they blended to one. There was a growl, a human yelp, some scuffling and cussing, then a human shape went out the window. The animal tried to follow, but was too wounded.

 
The dog whined and lay breathing heavily. Someone could be heard running though the woods.

 
Lonnie grabbed the back of the chair L C was tied in and drug her out the front door. It took some effort but he hoisted her into the back of the pickup, her and the chair laying on its side. As he put the gag back in her mouth L C told him, “The dog. Get the dog. You can’t leave it here.”

 
“Okay, okay,” Lonnie said and did as he was told, laying the dog alongside of her just before he closed the tailgate.

 

 

© 2014 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Fifty — Two: The Helicopter

1 Nov
Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

 

 

Lonnie speeded up the best he could on the old, bumpy dirt road. The sound of the helicopter got closer. Lonnie pulled under a tree and remained still.

The sound went away.

Lonnie started the car up again and continued.

He figured he was just on the other side of the hill from the safe house.

He passed a couple of men standing outside their car with rifles carried casually. They looked at him oddly. Lonnie hid his face as best he could and kept on going.

Hunting season.

These would not be the only people he would come across. All of them armed with rifles they knew how to handle better than he did.

Great.

He drove on.

The helicopter was coming back. He could hear it. He pulled under a couple of dense trees. The chopper circled around. Then passed over where he was hiding. It wasn’t going away.

Lonnie was sure he had been spotted. With that chopper in the air he could never get away.

There was only one thing to do.

He got out the rifle. Steadied it carefully on the roof of the car. Aimed as best he knew how at the largest part of the machine, where he assumed the gas tanks would be, and pulled the trigger. There was a smacking sound that bounced back at him. But nothing happened.

The next shot he aimed at the rotating blades.

This time the chopper lurched and veered off, disappearing. Soon the sound was gone.

Lonnie jumped into the car.

It was time to get as far away as possible.
© 2014, All Rights Reserved

Chapter Fifty —One: A Mouse In The House

5 Oct
Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

The person in the black ninja suit sat contemplating the room, savoring the memories of their first kill. Savoring the tortures they had committed, the expressions of pain and dismay on the face of the victim. A victim the killer felt deserved every second of pain and misery they received.

This time there was a distinct thump. Not a scratch.

The ninja rose. Pulled out a thirty-eight Smith and Wesson five shot revolver. Quietly, on padded feet, the ninja went along the wall, following it until they found the handle to the closet.

Inside the closet L C did not hear a sound. She had no clue if anyone were within a thousand miles.

Quickly opened the door.

There was a strangled noise as a bundle fell out on the floor.

The ninja took out a flashlight wrapped in layers of black cheesecloth. Enough light shown for close up inspection, but was hard to see even a few feet away.

Right now it played across L C’s face.

The ninja had spent a lot of time practicing talking using all breath and no voice. A whisper, it carried no clue as to the sex or voice of the person using it. With practice a person can make the whisper carry without strain.
“And what have we here? All tied up and ready for … What are you ready for?”

L C lay on her side, tied to the chair, her face to the floor, unable to answer. Gagged and blindfolded, only aware that this could not be the person who put her in the closet in the first place.

The breathy voice continued. “I know who you are. You are the Davenport girl. The one the police say committed murder right here in this cabin.”

It was the first time L C knew where she was at. She tried to see who was in the room with her, but the darkness and the ninja suit did its job well. The complete breathyness of the voice did its job just as well. All L C could tell was there was a human being in the room with her.

The human being hauled the chair upright with no sign of gentleness. Reached over, grabbed the duct tape covering the gags in her mouth, and yanked hard. To L C it felt as though her skin was being ripped from her face. She tried to yell but gagged on the cloth that had been shoved into her mouth. Those also were pulled out without ceremony.

L C was crying and sobbing, largely incoherent.

The ninja did not hurry her. There were other things to think about. On the surface this was a pure gift. The woman accused of the murder the ninja had committed sitting here like a spitted goose just waiting to be cooked.

On the other hand who, besides the person who had committed the murder, would want to tie her up and have her at their mercy?

Who would bring her here?

Why?

Killing the Davenport woman and hiding her body would be the perfect answer. No trial, no questions, no one probing around. Everyone would believe she had skipped the country.

Except the person who put her here.

The person in the ninja suit slapped L C, hard. “Who did this to you?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“How did you get here?”

L C could not understand why the person was whispering. “In the trunk.”

The person in the ninja suit was certain there had been no cars in the vicinity when they entered the cabin. Nevertheless they left L C in the chair and went out the front door to look. There were no vehicles anywhere.

Once back L C had calmed down.

Remembering to speak with all breath and no voice, the person in the ninja suit asked, “Someone brought you here and just left you?”

“Yes.”

This was going to take some serious thought.

The expedient thing to do was to simply kill her and dispose of the body where it would not be found. The most pleasurable thing would be to get her somewhere where she could be tortured at leisure.

There was a problem with either plan.

There was no car. No vehicle. Ninja like, the murderer had hiked in. There was no way to get either her living body, or her dead body, away from here easily without detection. Dragging her body across the ground would leave marks that would be almost impossible to cover over. Wouldn’t even need a forensic team to find it. A dog or a sharp detective could unravel everything.

Plus the other thing. Someone had left her and was no doubt planing on coming back.

At the minute it seemed absolutely essential to know who that someone was and why they had tied her up and left her here. The only answer the ninja could think of was “There is another serial killer running around here.” The question was would this other killer be someone who would want to work together, or someone who would be an implacable enemy.

“I have to know.”

 
© 2014 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Forty — Eight: Caught

16 Aug

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

 

Lonnie figured out he needed money, a legal car he could drive, and he needed to get rid of this hot car. Not a problem. A forty-five minute drive to the chop shop and by morning he’d be all set.

He was still thirty minutes away from the chop shop when he saw the red light behind him. He was still in the same heavily wooded area. An area he would have never known existed had he not discovered the safe house used by the CIA. Now he knew the area well. He had been prowling around it since the day he discovered it.

That was when he took stock. That was when he wished he had continued to follow all of the advice Cody had given him.

That was when he wished he had applied it to this day, this trip, this car, if to no other.

Cody told him never to steal a car when he was high, stoned, or even had a drink. Right now Lonnie had enough crap in him to overdose any three people who hadn’t built up a tolerance to it.

Cody told him to never have drugs in a stolen car with him. And to search it as soon as possible. If the car had drugs in it to stash them. Right now Lonnie had enough drugs in the car to be legally called a dealer.

Cody told him never to be in a car longer than it took to get rid of it. An hour at the most. Right now Lonnie had been driving it around for almost eight hours.

Cody told him never to have a weapon of any kind in a stolen car. Not even a pocket knife. Lonnie not only had one in here he had gone back to his house to get it and had promptly forgotten it. Right now it was shoved under the armrest.

Cody told him to never commit any other crime while in a stolen car, unless it was only stolen to get him to the crime scene and away, to protect his identity. Then ditch it as quick as possible.

Did kidnapping count?

At least she wasn’t still in the trunk.

Oh, shit. His mind raced. If they caught him now he was not going to get out on bail any time soon. Oh, shit. She was all tied up like one of those rolled roasts you see in the meat section. Then she was tied to the chair and he did it all over again. Oh, shit. Then he locked her in that damn closet and all but nailed the damn thing shut. Oh, shit, shit.

She was going to die in there.

Oh, shit.

The cop car was catching up. The lights were reflecting inside the roof of the car now. He could hear the siren’s wail.
Unless he told them where she was. He would have to tell on himself. Car theft. Weapons trafficking. Drug dealing. Kidnapping. Oh, shit. Kidnapping a CIA agent. Terrorist activity. He wouldn’t even be entitled to a phone call or an attorney or any American rights.

Oh, shit.

To save her life he would have to tell. If he told he would never see daylight again the rest of his freaking worthless piece of shit life and he couldn’t even get high to ease the pain.

Oh, shit.

How had things gone so wrong so fast?

One thing was sure. He could never tell them about the woman in the closet in the cabin. If he got caught she was on her own. She was going to die in there. Die a slow death of thirst and starvation. That would have to be an awful way to die. Slow and miserable.

He was going to feel badder than hell about that.

 

Chapter Forty — Six: Normal Disturbance

21 Jun
Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

 

 

Morgan and Delavera pulled into the parking lot. Someone had called in a disturbance. No one seemed to know what was going on. The neighborhood wasn’t the worst part of town but it was on a down hill run and headed there fast. The parking lot was in back, behind the store; dark and gloomy, with an array of litter scattered across the asphalt. It was large enough for eight or ten cars. Bushes and a broken fence with holes big enough to walk through, and an alley on the other side of that.

A paradise for drug dealers, pimps, and muggers. When they got out of the car both Delavera and Morgan kept their hands close to their belts. People stood around staring at the two of them. A neighborhood where people appeared and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

“Anybody see what happened?” Morgan asked in his most policeman like bellow. Most of the people just kept staring at him. He figured those were the ones who didn’t have any outstanding wants or warrants. There were others. Shadows who did not want to be seen. Fully arrestable on sight people.

“Man and a woman had a fight. Happens all the time. Don’t know why anybody called it in.” Said a man in a long brown coat.

“Maybe because there are laws against beating up on women?” Delavera said from just behind the headlights. “Who called it in?”

An older woman, obviously drunk, probably in her seventies, spoke up with conviction and no fear. “He was holding her down. I couldn’t tell what he was doing to her. She was laying on the ground and he was rolling her around. I said, ‘Young man you should stop that,’ but he acted like he didn’t hear me.”

“Probably her pimp frisking her for money,” said a young man. Most of the bystanders laughed.

“Did you get a look at him?” asked Morgan.

“No. I didn’t stay around. I went across the street to my friend’s house and called the police from there.”

“Did you see what kind of car they left in?”

“Young man, I just told you. I went across the street to call you people. It is your job to take care of these things, not mine. Besides it is too dark back here to see anything anyway. I told the store owner there ought to be a law making him put lights back here.”

“I agree with you, ma’m. Okay. We’ll make a report as best we can.”

Before they left the spoke to the owner of the store. Delavera asked him, “You got no lights back there. You got no video cameras. You know it is dangerous for your customers back there?”

The store owner looked her, his black and rock hard, hers soft brown, “What do you want me to do, lady, scare all of my customers off?”

 

(c) 2014, all rights reserved

 

Chapter Forty — Five: Silence is Frozen

14 Jun

 

 

Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

 

 

The car drove for a ways, then bounced horribly. Stopped. The engine turned off. Silence. The door opened. Silence. The door closed. Silence. Some gravel crunched.

Silence.

Oh, my God. I never told anybody where I am. The Langlins are in Europe. They won’t be thinking about me. They wont even want to think about me until they come back and I’ve proven myself innocent. The lawyer won’t think about me until I don’t show up for trial. Nobody knows where I went to but the lawyer. It will be days before anybody realizes I’m missing.

Oh, my God. Oh my God. The killer kidnapped me. The cops are going to think I skipped the country. It will be years before they find my body and the case is reopened because they find out their mistakes.

Oh, my God. They may never find my body. Oh, my God. They will never know who the real killer is. The Langlins, My mother, Auntie Em, they will all think I did it. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

OhMyGod!

After a few minutes, in the pitch black trunk, hearing nothing except her own thoughts and fears, panic engulfed L C. She began to kick her legs, buck her body, and make as much noise through her gag as she was able. The more she moved the more panic overtook her. Soon she was an unthinking mass of frantic movement and noise.

Then there was a solid banging on the back of the trunk.

L C froze. Both mind and body.

Silence.

She waited. She was sweating. Her breathing was ragged, almost hurting her nose as the drove in, out, in, out, in heaving blasts.

A voice came through the trunk. “Do you want me to beat you to a bloody pulp with a tire iron?”

Fear gutted her from the bottom of her stomach to her mouth.

“Answer me.”

Her first thought was, “How do I answer.” Her mouth was stuffed with something that prevented her from making intelligible sounds.

“If I open this trunk you will regret it.”

She yelled “NO!” as best she could through her gag.

“You make one more sound and I’m opening this trunk and beating you senseless so you can’t make any more sounds. Do you understand?”

Her mind raced. Is that a trick question? He just told me if I make one more sound he will beat me with a tire iron. Then he says make one more sound. What do I do? What do I do?

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

“YES!” Losing control she fairly screamed the answer.

Silence.

Something scraped. She flinched thinking the trunk was going to open any second now. It didn’t.

It was dark. L C Was sweaty. She could smell her own fear. She began to shake. She was a tiny little girl again in a big dark bedroom, and there was something horrible in the closet. Daddy was gone and mommy was asleep and didn’t hear her.

 

 
© 2014 All Rights Reserved

 

 

Chapter Forty — Four: The Ride

7 Jun
Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

 

The lawyer told L C to stay low, not attract attention, and avoid the press. She had a microwave, a TV, and a small refrigerator. Still she needed some food and something to read. It was a neighborhood where a lot of people dressed so as to be “invisible.” It was not uncommon to see people walking slouched over, wearing hoods so you had a hard time seeing their faces, shoulders and arms bowed forward so you could not tell from looking at their chest if they were male or female.

She sat in her room, with the lights out, looking out the window.

She decided she could do that. She rolled her hair up and tucked it out of sight, waited unill the sun set and the world outside was in dull quiet shadow only broken occasionally by someone yelling or honking. She missed her little dog Rocko.

The store was open after dark. It was less than a block away. It had everything she could need. Food, drinks, magazines, and a shelf of paperback books.

She went ahead and used her debit card, wondering how long her money would last. Enough to last a week, maybe.

As she left the store the only thing on her mind was getting back to the room. When she rounded the corner of the store, one step past the driveway into the parking lot, something rammed into her, driving her into the unlit parking lot.
She dropped her bag. She started to yell. A fist hit her in the stomach. She found herself bent over looking at the cement. She looked up, trying to see her assailant. Another fist hit her in the chin.

She went down.

When she came to she was being rolled into the trunk of a car, her bag of groceries being dumped on top of her. Her hands were duct taped. Her feet and legs were duct taped. A cloth something was in her mouth and duct tape applied over it as an after thought. Duct tape was wrapped around her eyes. Someone was going through her clothing picking out her cell phone, billfold, room key.

As the trunk slammed down, closing her into total blackness, she thought, “That sure as hell isn’t a reporter.”
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