Nature of Darkness
An Alex Penfield Novel
Robert W. Stephens
Copyright © 2020 by Robert W. Stephens
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
For Felicia Dames
Contents
Prologue
1. The Con
2. A Diversion
3. The Journal
4. Three Letters
5. The Mask
6. The Darkness
7. Central State
8. I Am
9. Druid Heights
10. I Knew Him
11. The Box
12. The Profile
13. The Partner
14. The Shadow on the Wall – Part 1
15. There Was Another Way
16. The Aunt
17. The Message
18. The Daughter
19. Leverage
20. Henry Atwater
21. Nothing Like Us
22. Desperation
23. The Fishing Pier
24. Santa Fe
25. Do You Know What You’ve Done?
26. The Gallery
27. Nightmares
28. The Prize
29. First Landing
30. The Field – Part 1
31. The Child
32. Goodbye
33. The Mirror
34. The Field – Part 2
35. Celebrations
36. A Shadow on the Wall – Part 2
Did you like this book?
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Robert W. Stephens
Prologue
Angela Darden walked to the end of the long fishing pier. The sun wouldn’t be up for a few more hours, but she had no trouble seeing her way from the light of the full moon. She had a 180-degree view of the Chesapeake Bay and she spotted the faint lights of a cargo ship far off in the distance.
Fort Monroe, Virginia had special significance to her. It had been a key location in the biggest investigation of her career. One of the victims had been a priest at a local church less than one hundred yards from the moat that surrounded the old stone fort.
She and her partner had also found the remains of another victim in one of the tunnels that ran through the stone walls. The investigation had been the defining point of her life. It had taken everything she thought she’d known to be true and flipped it upside down.
As she looked across the water, the wind started to pick up and sent shivers down her body. She realized she’d severely underdressed for the weather in her V-neck t-shirt, light windbreaker, and khaki pants.
She reached down through the top of the shirt to feel the jagged edges of a scar on her upper chest, just above her right breast. The gunshot had almost killed her, and she’d spent months in a hospital fighting for her life. The irony that she’d then choose to end her existence wasn’t lost on her.
There was too much guilt, though. Too many painful memories. She could never switch them off and they followed her wherever she went, including in her dreams.
Angela turned from the water and looked back toward the fort. She could see the lighthouse to her right. It was over two hundred years old and was the oldest structure in the area. She could also see the American flag blowing in the strong wind coming off the bay. The spotlight placed at the bottom of the flagpole illuminated the red, white, and blue colors.
She faced the water again and then sat on the wooden planks of the dock, her legs dangling off the edge. She reached inside her windbreaker and removed a large envelope. She opened the flap to verify that the letter was still inside. She knew it would be, since she’d already checked the envelope several times that night. She reached into her pocket and removed her car keys. She dropped them into the envelope. She also placed her driver’s license inside.
Angela sealed the envelope and took a thumbtack from her pocket to pin the envelope to one of the planks. She’d already written the name and phone number of her aunt on the outside of the envelope. With any luck, one of the fishermen who liked to come to the pier at sunrise would find the envelope and call her.
Angela stood and looked out at the water again. The cargo ship that she’d seen before was long gone. She gazed up at the moon just as a cloud passed in front of it, plunging the area into total darkness. This was the perfect time to end things, but she still couldn’t comprehend how it had come to this. One day her life was fine. Her career was in a good place. She had solid relationships. Now, everything was in ruins, shattered by a force she’d been unable to stop.
Angela looked toward the water a final time and then walked off the dock.
1
The Con
Elizabeth Daniels gazed out the window toward the lake. The sun was just starting to set, and the pink and red clouds reflected off the smooth surface of the water. The lake was rimmed with a series of tall pine trees, a common sight in her hometown of Savannah, Georgia.
She was about to turn away when a blue heron lifted off a dead branch of one of the trees and flew low across the lake. Its giant wings were spread out so that it glided the entire way. It looked like it was about to lift upward when it suddenly dove into the water and emerged with a fish in its beak.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the man said behind her.
Elizabeth wasn’t sure if he was referring to the bird, or the lake, or perhaps both. The man had told her his name was Mike. It was a common name and easy to remember. That said, she was convinced it was also fake.
“How long have you lived here?” she asked, even though she knew it was almost certainly a rental.
They were standing in the kitchen. He in front of the granite kitchen island and her by the large window that overlooked the back of the house. Everything in the house was a little too neat and a little too generic.
There were no family photos. Sure, he might have removed those before her arrival. But the framed photos that were in the room were all nature shots that resembled the type of things you’d expect to see in a hotel room or a typical office complex.
She didn’t see any personal items like a computer or a small collection of shoes by the front door. This was probably an Airbnb paid for with a credit card the guy’s wife didn’t know he had.
“Not long,” Mike said in answer to her question.
Yep, a rental, she thought.
“I’m planning on cooking the filet mignons medium rare,” Mike continued.
“Medium rare is fine. Thank you.”
“Perfect. I’m also making a bordelaise sauce for the steaks.”
“I’ve not heard of that. What’s in it?”
“It’s a classic French sauce. It’s made of dry red wine, bone marrow, butter, shallots, and a sauce demi-glace.”
The dinner was a nice gesture, but it was also an unnecessary one. They both knew where the evening was headed, but he’d paid for five hours and it seemed he was determined to get all of his time with her.
The men always fell into one of three categories. The first group was the most common. They wanted to rush into bed with no hint of foreplay, no small talk, no false assumption that the date was anything but an opportunity to pay for sex with a woman who was almost certainly out of their league in any other circumstance.
The second group was less common, but it still consisted of a fair number of men. They wanted the illusion that they weren’t about to engage in an activity with a prostitute but rather a desirable woman who had a real and
genuine interest in them. They would usually book a table at one of the finest restaurants in town. After all, it was an opportunity to show off the beautiful woman at their side.
Sometimes the date, if you could even call it that, would be at a social function, such as some industry event. It was another opportunity for the man to show off the woman, but in those cases the audience was targeted to the man’s co-workers or clients. Still, the evening would end the same. Elizabeth would be brought back to a hotel and have to pretend she was enjoying the sex as the man had his way with her.
The third group was the rarest, but she’d still encountered it a handful of times. The men just wanted to talk. Maybe their relationship with their wife was on the rocks and they needed someone to talk to, someone preferably female who wasn’t going to judge them.
The third group also consisted of the widowers, the men who missed the physical contact with a woman but weren’t willing or ready to start a real romantic relationship. They’d begin the night assuming they’d have sex with her, but the grief for their lost spouse was still too strong, and the night would conclude with Elizabeth having to listen to them whine about their loneliness.
Mike was clearly in the second group. She didn’t sense depression with him like the men in the third group, and he definitely hadn’t lunged at her the moment they’d entered the house like some teenaged boy with overactive hormones whose parents had left on a weekend trip.
After greeting her at the front door, Mike had led her into the kitchen. The room was another example of the house being a rental. Everything was tidy. The granite counters and tiled floor looked like they’d been cleaned by a maid and not a successful bachelor who spent most of his time at work. Granted, he could have hired a cleaning crew, but she didn’t think so.
“Would you like a cabernet?” Mike asked, and he picked up a bottle near the stove. “This is one of my favorites, a 2008 Spottswoode Cabernet Sauvignon.”
“I’d love a glass.”
Mike opened a drawer but closed it a second later. It wasn’t until the third drawer that he found the bottle opener, the definitive sign that he didn’t really live here.
He pulled the cork and placed it on the counter.
“I’d normally let this breathe a bit, but I don’t feel like waiting,” he continued.
He removed two glasses from the cabinet and poured each of them a glass.
Elizabeth sipped her wine.
“This is excellent,” she said.
“Good. I’m glad you like it.”
Mike walked over to the refrigerator and opened the door. He removed a plastic bag and placed it on the counter by the bottle of wine.
“Do you like asparagus?” he asked.
“I love it.”
“Then I made the right choice,” he said, and he smiled.
“Are you a professional chef?”
Mike laughed.
“No, not at all, but I do love cooking. I used to do it every night.”
“What changed?”
Mike paused a long moment and his mood shifted somewhat.
“Sorry,” he eventually said, his voice sounded a bit choked up. “My wife died a few years ago. I used to make dinner for the both of us. After she was gone, I sort of lost the desire. I lived off canned soup and TV dinners for a long time. I’ve only recently started cooking again.”
He’d introduced the deceased spouse, a definite characteristic of group three. Elizabeth wasn’t fooled by it, though. Mike had a good tan, which enhanced the blueness of his eyes. But it had another effect, definitely one that was unwanted. It showed off the white tan line on his left ring finger where a wedding band used to be. There was always the chance that he’d continued to wear it long after his wife had passed, but she doubted it. It was almost certainly a lie to make himself feel less guilty for bedding her later.
“I’m sorry to hear about your wife. That’s terrible,” she said.
“Thank you. I apologize for bringing it up. I don’t want it to ruin the evening.”
She stayed in the kitchen while he made dinner. He definitely knew how to cook, but he fumbled his way through the kitchen looking for things as he had when he’d searched for the bottle opener.
Mike had just taken the steaks off the skillet when she turned to him.
“Would you excuse me for a moment? I need to use the restroom.”
“Of course, it’s down the hall, second door on the right,” he said.
“Thank you.”
Elizabeth left the kitchen and walked back into the living room. She grabbed her purse off the coffee table in front of the sofa and made her way down the hallway to the restroom. She entered the room and locked the door behind her. She opened her purse and activated the camera inside. The lens was disguised as one of the studs on the outside of the bag and it was near impossible to detect. She’d lost count of how much money it had made her.
Elizabeth flushed the toilet without using it. She ran the water in the sink for a few moments and then turned off the faucet. She left the restroom and headed back to the living room. The open floor plan allowed her to see through the living room and into the dining room where Mike was busy placing two plates on the table.
“It smells delicious,” she said, which was true.
Before joining him in the dining room, she walked over to a table opposite the sofa. She placed her bag on top with the camera lens aimed toward the sofa. She would have preferred placing it on the dresser in the bedroom, but she was worried it might appear suspicious.
She then joined Mike in the dining room.
“Would you like another glass of wine?” he asked.
“Yes, I think I will.”
Mike walked back into the kitchen and poured them both second glasses.
The dinner was excellent, and the conversation wasn’t half bad. He told her about his job while not mentioning the name of the company where he worked, nor giving her any clues as to where it might be located. She didn’t ask personal questions. It would have been bad form since it would have only caused him anxiety. Besides, the men almost always revealed more information than they realized.
After dinner, Mike picked up both of their wine glasses and walked into the kitchen.
“Why don’t we have a seat in the living room. I’ll clean up the dishes later,” he said.
“All right.”
Mike walked into the kitchen while Elizabeth made her way into the living room. She sat on the sofa and glanced at her purse. She could see the camera lens pointed right at her. Of course, Mike would have no idea it was there.
She smiled to herself. This evening had gone better than she’d expected. The dinner was good. Mike was a handsome guy. She just might enjoy sleeping with him. The real fun would come the following day when she’d email him the video of their sexual activity and demand the payoff before sending a copy to his wife, who was almost certainly still alive. If not, then she assumed he wouldn’t want the video sent to every email inbox at his place of work.
Mike entered the living room and handed her the wine glass, which he’d refilled.
“Trying to get me drunk?” she asked.
“Not at all,” he said, and he sat beside her. “I just don’t like good wine to go to waste. Besides, I hate drinking by myself.”
Elizabeth took a sip of her wine.
“This has been a wonderful evening. Thank you,” he continued.
“Oh, the best part is just getting started.”
She took another sip of her wine and then placed it on the table.
“Thank you for dinner,” she continued. “Now, let me do something for you.”
Elizabeth stood. She slipped off her high-heeled shoes and then kneeled onto the carpet in front of Mike.
“You’ve been the perfect gentlemen, but you did make one mistake earlier tonight,” she said.
“And what mistake was that?”
“You didn’t compliment me on how I looked.”
“You’re rig
ht. I’m sorry. You look tremendous, especially in that dress.”
“Would you believe me if I said I bought it just for tonight?”
“I would if you told me you did,” he said.
“I did.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
Elizabeth pushed her long dark hair behind her. Then she slipped the two straps of her dress over her shoulders. She held her dress up with her hands for a few seconds, then she slowly lowered it so that her full breasts were exposed.
“Do you like what you see?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, and he started to move for her.
“Not yet,” she said, and she pushed his hands away. “Let me do the work.”
There was, of course, an ulterior motive behind her actions. She wanted him sitting with his back to the sofa cushion so that the camera would get an excellent shot of his face.
She reached for his belt and undid the buckle. She rubbed the outside of his pants for a few moments until she felt him grow hard. Then she undid the button of his pants and pulled them down to the floor. She reached inside his underwear and pulled out his erect penis. She smiled seductively once more, then took him in her mouth.
She moved back and forth with her lips and she stroked the bottom of his penis with her hand. He moaned softly. She felt his hands run through her hair.
“Oh my God, don’t stop,” he said.
As she continued to perform oral sex on him, something strange happened to her. She started getting dizzy and lightheaded.
Nature of Darkness Page 1