Autumn's Rage

by Mary Stone

  He closed his eyes and ground his teeth together. “No. I don’t. I need to end this now so I can find peace. Justice for Colleen is all that matters.” He pulled a plastic bag from his pocket and opened his eyes. Not a trace of softness remained.

  He stepped toward her, and Autumn instinctively backed away on the floor. “Albert…” She tried to regain his attention but comprehended how futile the effort was. Albert was lost in his fogged-up haze of hateful determination.

  He grinned. “I’m going to do better this time. I’ll create a killing where there is no question or doubt as to whodunit.”

  Panic nearly closed her throat, but she managed a whispered, “Albert…”

  “You’re going to die here, Dr. Trent.” He smoothed the plastic bag between his fingers. “Right in Baldwin’s house.”

  A tear escaped as he grew closer…closer… “Please…”

  “He won’t be able to wiggle his way out of this one, slithery snake that he is. He’ll be found guilty of murder, and justice will finally be served.”

  30

  Aiden wasn’t often in the passenger seat, and this trip was reminding him why. When he had such limited information to act upon, driving was a somewhat adequate way to channel the adrenaline built up inside of him.

  Somewhat.

  But now, one of their own was missing. And not just a random agent at the Bureau.

  Autumn.

  The team was on a hot chase to nowhere thus far, following an approximate compass which provided little by way of guidance or insight. Dr. Trent’s Camry had headed northwest, according to traffic cameras. They could follow the direction on the interstate, but the destination point would become necessary quite soon.

  And the cherry on top of it all was that Chief Lewton was in the driver’s seat, rendering him worthless. Or so he felt.

  “You’re worried,” Adrienne observed, her eyes never leaving the road.

  Aiden held in a sigh. “One of my colleagues is missing, as is our prime suspect for the hospital murders. I suppose being worried goes with the territory.”

  “Of course.” Adrienne went quiet.

  Aiden assumed with mistaken relief that her observations were over.

  “Dr. Trent is your friend as well as your colleague, correct?” Chief Lewton’s tone said “nonchalant,” but her question screamed “curious as hell.”

  Aiden hesitated. Adrienne was a police chief. Nosiness was a part of her job, and he assumed, a part of her nature as well. She more than likely meant no harm, but he wasn’t about to divulge any deep, dark, or riveting information to a human he’d met less than a week ago.

  “Yes, she’s my friend as well,” he offered with monotone indifference.

  A side-glance at Adrienne caught her doing the same at him. He knew the chief wanted more, or believed herself to sense more, perhaps. But he suspected that she’d accepted there was nothing else coming.

  Not from his lips, anyway.

  “You know,” Adrienne picked up the proverbial talking stick, “when I was in the police academy, I had on this huge pair of rose-colored glasses. Not real ones, you know, figurative. I was certain…no, hellbent…that I was going to have it all. The dream, you know?”

  Aiden wasn’t in the mood for story time, but anything that made the minutes pass faster couldn’t be so bad. “I can’t say that I do know, Chief. Lots of different versions of ‘the dream’ out there.”

  Adrienne grinned. “I get what you’re saying, but I think you understand what I’m referring to as well. The dream. A career, a partner, kids, the white picket fence. Two cats, one dog…or something like that. Maybe a goldfish. And brilliant success in everything you do.”

  “And? How did that work out for you, Chief Lewton?” His necktie had grown uncomfortably tight and the air in the car was beyond warm.

  “Ha. Didn’t work out for me at all. Mostly because I paid attention. I saw what happened to my colleagues…their marriages. Law enforcement wasn’t really made to coddle the family life, you know?”

  He knew.

  “So, you abandoned the dream?” Aiden despised small talk, but this conversation was of an even worse type. He could detect that Adrienne was getting to a specific point, and he had the underlying suspicion that whatever she said would not sit well with him.

  Not that she would ever deduce exactly what his internal response was to anything. No one was ever quite sure what he was thinking, unless he spoke the words out loud. And even then, he seldom infused his statements with even a hint of emotion.

  The only exception to that rule was an occasional slip when speaking to—

  “I did abandon the dream. But not because I was scared of divorce or not giving my kids enough love or yada yada yada. I was pretty positive that I could control all that. Keep my ducks in a row. There was a different reason.” Adrienne’s grin had vanished, and Aiden regarded her with great caution from the passenger’s seat.

  “I guess you’re wanting to tell me what that reason is,” he conceded.

  “I love that you say what you mean, Agent Parrish. You don’t ask what the reason is, because you’d rather we weren’t having this discussion to begin with. You ‘allow’ that I want to tell you. And somehow without a hint of condescension. Well done.” She let out a short chortle.

  Anywhere else. He’d rather be anywhere else right now.

  “Okay, okay,” Adrienne gave his arm a sympathetic pat. “I’ll put you out of your misery. I was only going to tell you that within the first two years of being ‘on the job,’ two of my fellow officers were shot dead. Separate instances.”

  Quiet anger crawled up Aiden’s spine. Why? Why did he need to be told this right now? Why had he let her prattle on in the first place?

  “They both had kids. One of them even had the wife and the fence and whatnot…had the dream. At their funerals, I saw those little mini-me versions of their dead parents attempting to stand tall throughout the procession. Not a single one of them was even ten years old, but they were all trying so hard to behave honorably.” Adrienne swallowed, more than likely seeing those young faces again.

  “And thus, you decided you didn’t want a family anymore?” If that was what this whole conversation had been about, Adrienne was a horrible storyteller.

  Predictable.

  “Nope. I do want a family. I’ll always want a family. But I decided no kid deserved that. Or at least, that I didn’t want to be the reason a six-year-old was standing in the cold rain saluting like a tiny little soldier while my dead body got carted by.”

  Aiden nodded, relieved to find her point had been so elemental. “Understandable. I think that’s a common fear amongst professionals in our field.”

  “That’s the problem, Aiden. Loss is a common fear amongst the entire human race. We think we’re a different breed because we carry a gun and deal with criminals, but we’re not. Cops and Feds are humans, and humans die all the time.” Adrienne leaned back against the headrest, her fatigue betraying her.

  The subject matter was morbid. Depressing. And quite frankly, talking about death in this moment when they were on the precipice of losing Autumn forever was too much. Adrienne must know better. Why would she bring up—

  “No one escapes the betrayal of death, Agent Parrish. It’s the ultimate ‘Dear John’ letter. That sucker is written and sealed the same day we’re born…”

  Adrienne trailed off for a moment, and Aiden wasn’t sure how much more “small talk” he could digest. He was exhausted, and there had been no update, no breaking lead regarding Autumn. How long could they drive on this damn highway before admitting to having no idea as to where they were going?

  “So, you’re telling me I need to fall in love and have two point five children in the suburbs because I’m human?” Aiden wanted to lighten the conversation, although there was no real reason for doing so. They were just talking about life. Loss.

  He was no stranger to loss.

  “I’m telling you that if the thought of
someone dying has the potential to bring you to your knees, it’s okay. You can admit that you’ve allowed yourself to care, or rather, your humanity allowed the sentiment for you. And cop or Fed or accountant or bartender…doesn’t matter. You’re a human who is being the only thing he can be. A human.”

  “I exist therefore I am, eh Chief Lewton?” Aiden’s jaw flexed as he stared at the passing countryside.

  Adrienne adjusted her grip on the steering wheel. “Something like that.”

  “Well, as you can see, I’m not on my knees,” Aiden quipped, his intended humor failing to release from his tight-set mouth.

  Where are you? Where are you? Where are you?

  Adrienne shook her head, a sad smile playing at her lips. “Yes, you are.”

  His iPad dinged, alerting him to an incoming email from Sun, which he opened with unspeakable relief. The email contained a short video attachment with no audio. He pressed play.

  “What is it?” Chief Lewton leaned his way, trying to get a glimpse of the footage while keeping an eye on the road.

  “I’m not sure yet.” Aiden studied the silent scene playing out before him and reran the feed again to make sure he had missed nothing.

  Philip stood in the office of his former private practice and embraced an attractive young female patient in what appeared to be an innocent, straightforward hug. He quickly pushed the woman away, however, his expression stern and alarmed. Baldwin held up his hands, as if to deter all possible attempts at further physical contact, and she ran from his office in tears.

  There was no way to know what had been said to cause the doctor’s abrupt rebuff toward his patient. His actions, however, weren’t criminal. Hugging a patient hadn’t been a wise decision, given his field, but that seemed to be where the ill-advised conduct stopped.

  Aiden grabbed his phone to call Sun. She answered after one ring.

  “What’s the story behind the footage?” He was relying on Sun right now, and despite their bumpy history, Agent Ming most always went into a mode of professional courteousness when the stakes were high.

  “I’ve been helping Autumn dig into Baldwin’s past. You just watched footage from a session—the last session that Philip had with Colleen Hester. No audio available, and she committed suicide not long after.” Sun’s rapid computer-key taps never ceased as she spoke.

  “Okay.” Aiden replayed the video for the third time. “What am I missing? We knew about Colleen. How does she connect to Evelyn and Paula?”

  “Colleen Hester’s full name is Colleen Rice Hester,” Sun shared.

  Aiden recognized the surname in an instant. Why was “Rice” so familiar…? His body tensed as the connection hit him. A man with a shaved head, muscular, appeared to be mid-thirties. “Rice. Wasn’t that the last name of the orderly who helped Autumn out of the elevator she was trapped in with Evelyn Walker’s body?”

  “That is exactly the point. They’re related. Albert Rice, employed by Virginia State Hospital, is the late Colleen Rice Hester’s brother. There’s your connection to Baldwin,” Sun confirmed in triumph.

  “Connection…and I’m assuming some bad blood as well. Pull up and text me any addresses linked to Philip Baldwin that correlate with the northwest direction of Autumn’s Camry. He’s a wealthy doctor. There’s a good chance he has other properties aside from his city townhouse.”

  “I’m already on it. I’m also running everything I can find on Albert Rice or any of his relatives.”

  “Let me know what you find.” Aiden ended the call and was preparing to relay the new information to a very eager Chief Lewton when he received Sun’s text.

  She’d already found the location of Baldwin’s countryside farmhouse outside of Richmond.

  Aiden entered the address into the car’s GPS, his heart pounding.

  “We may have found them. Hit the gas, Chief.” He sank back against the headrest, relief and dread competing for his attention.

  The team had needed this break. There was now at least a fighting chance of pulling Autumn out of harm’s way before…

  Aiden dug his fingers into the arm rest, not wanting to finish the thought.

  But denying reality was ridiculous, and he’d never been good at doing so anyway.

  There was a very existent possibility that when they discovered Autumn…if they discovered Autumn…she would be cold, still, and silent. Dead.

  He shook his head, refusing to hold on to the image. Nothing was over yet. No final conclusion.

  He was going to find Autumn Trent alive, and every other possibility could go to hell.

  31

  I’d been around enough doctors to know that having a second residence wasn’t abnormal in the world where people hung fancy doctorate degrees on their walls. This fact had always been a bit obnoxious. Nobody needed two houses. That money could be put toward so many greater, unselfish causes.

  But Baldwin having such a fine establishment on top of his expensive city townhome struck me as a direct, personal insult. Knowing he luxuriated in such wealth incited even more fury inside my every cell. It wasn’t fair. In fact, it was both unfair and ridiculous the way life often played out.

  My sweet sister was dead. She didn’t even have her own existence anymore. But ole Phil had his health, a thriving career—up until a couple of days ago—and an extra house.

  Sure. Why not.

  Securing the gun in my shooting hand, I’d dragged a heavy, well-made dining room chair into the entryway and directed Dr. Trent to get up off the floor and sit. The grandeur of Baldwin’s furnishings, what little I had seen of them, only fueled my dedication to exact justice for Colleen.

  This. Man. Had. To. Suffer.

  “All signs will point to Philip.”

  I smiled, patiently securing thick zip ties around the redhead’s hands. I used two of them, knowing exactly how to bracelet them in a way that was near impossible to escape from, especially with her hands behind her back. “All roads will lead to him. I’d wager that even the great Dr. Baldwin, despite his remarkable skills of evasion, won’t be able to talk his way out of the dead body strapped to a chair in his own house’s foyer.”

  I’d practiced this method hundreds of times, one-handed. Just as I’d known the pistol would be necessary for cooperation purposes, I’d figured mastering the art of bondage could be just as vital.

  Carrying a hand full of the plastic ties around in my coat pocket had been one of the easiest precautions I ever could have taken. And now, my foresight was paying off.

  Dr. Trent wasn’t going to fight or escape. Not with her hands stuck behind her back and my pistol aimed at her pretty red head. She would sit in that chair and behave like a good little girl. Good little girls didn’t get shot.

  However, I had no desire to actually shoot her—that wasn’t how I meant for her to die. I prayed that she didn’t force such an ending. My intentions were quite different.

  There was a better way.

  Her death needed to make a statement and remind the bastard psychiatrist of the hell he’d sunk my sister into. If he didn’t already have nightmares about Colleen’s last few moments of life, he was certain to experience some subconscious terrors after witnessing Dr. Trent die right in front of him.

  I was used to death by now. Philip wasn’t. He was only accustomed to lying.

  He was about to witness a truth that would never leave him. Every hour he sat alone and ruined inside a prison cell, rotting away like the disgusting, disposable piece of shit that he was, he would be haunted by this day. Tortured by this murder.

  And in doing so, he would remember Colleen.

  I finished binding the lady doctor and decided to explain my method, so she could at least know what to expect. I was hopeful that she’d appreciate how her murder could be much worse and show gratitude for the fate soon to befall her.

  “I’m sure, Dr. Trent,” I said, kneeling in front of her, “that in your line of work, you’re familiar with suicide bags.”

  Her emeral
d eyes focused on the plastic bag once again in my hand, her expression amazingly calm. “I am. They’re marketed as a peaceful way to take one’s own life. Generally, a large plastic bag with a drawstring, most often used in conjunction with a tank of helium connected to a gas valve. Does that sound about right?”

  I turned the bag around in my hands, folding and flexing the smooth, cold plastic. “Flicks the lights off pretty quick, in most cases. I figured you’d know all about them.”

  “Of course.” She licked her lips and frowned, but not out of fear. Her expression appeared to be complete sympathy. “Is that how Colleen died, Albert? She ordered a suicide bag?”

  “I have to tell you something, but you promise me first that you won’t say a word to Mom.”

  I should have said more than “a word” to our mother. I knew that then, but I knew it now in a way that hollowed out my insides and made me want to die. And in fact, maybe I would after Dr. Baldwin was locked away. My job would be done, and I didn’t want to be here anymore. I didn’t want to be alone anymore.

  If I had told my mother about Colleen’s fraternization with her professor, come hell or high water, she would have put an end to the situation. She would have pulled Colleen’s tuition before she let something scandalous like that happen to her daughter.

  The ill-fated pair would have broken up. Colleen would barely remember the professor by the time his fatal car accident happened. She may have retained a distant fondness for the man and experienced a bit of sadness. But her spiral would not have imploded in the extreme way that it had when everything played out in real time.

  She still would have been Colleen.

  There wouldn’t have been any dark cloud surrounding her, consuming her, making her impossible to reach. Her smile wouldn’t have disappeared. Her eyes would still sparkle.

  None of us would have even known that she was capable of falling into that endless black void.