Shattered Order: A Psychological Crime Thriller (Shattered Survival Thrillers Book 3)

by S. J. Braden

  “We know,” replied Valerie, “but we can do this. All we have to say is that they got scared and left town. If we want, we can even provide the cops with the aliases they traveled under. Then it looks like they left town on their own. Mom your divorce from Daddy will be a breeze. How much can he fight it from prison? Now isn’t he going to be surprised when he finds out that not only is his favorite son dead, but his other son and son-in-law headed for the great beyond out of reach as soon as the going got tough?”

  “Things sure are changing around here. You girls are doing a good job,” Bee offered her rare praise to both women.

  “How are things going on your end Mom?”

  “Did you see the news? The cops think there is some new designer drug in town. It’s killing people all over town. They are warning people not to take any new drugs.” Bee laughed almost uncontrollably and when she caught her breath she added, “poor saps. It’s no new drug, it’s the same drugs they all are taking every day, we just added a little something extra. We aren’t adding it anymore. We can’t afford to kill all the clients, but those boys shouldn’t have been sampling the product they should be selling. Valerie, do you think maybe the other gang boys will go the way of your brother and husband? Maybe they will all leave town?”

  “Not unless you’re planning to buy them all tickets out of town. But I bet they lay low for a while at least. After all, they need time to regroup right?”

  “Yes, indeed they do. I think it’s time for me to head home. We have the funeral tomorrow. Be sure to do your husband proud Xyloh. You know he was always so particular about how you dressed. I think you should go all out and wear something totally outlandish! Just wait until the day after tomorrow, after the funeral, okay?”

  They all laughed and then Xyloh answered, “You got it mama Bee.”

  Chapter 46

  Colleen awoke. Before she even opened her eyes, the headache registered. She could feel every beat of her heart as the blood pulsed through her head. She imagined the color red and could visualize the blood vessels stretching and shrinking. The thought of opening her eyes made her want to go back to sleep. That blissful sleep, dreaming of Ecuador, where everything was colorful and alive. And peaceful. Anticipating the pain to come, Colleen gently opened one eye as slowly as possible. Thankfully the room was dim. Almost dark. She looked around and tried to determine where she was as she also took stock of her aches and pains.

  She was lying on a concrete floor on her left side. Colleen was thankful she wasn’t laying on her only arm until she realized that her right wrist was tightly tied to some sort of pole protruding from the floor and reaching all the way to the ceiling. Her left hip and shoulder were radiating electrical like pulses of pain from laying on them for so long. The heavy weight, both figuratively and literally of the bomb fastened around her neck was still present, and had created a neck cramp from sleeping with her head resting at the weird angle because of it. How long, Colleen wasn’t sure, but she remembered vividly dreaming of the trip to Ecuador so she assumed she had been asleep for a while. As she took in the room, she realized she didn’t know where she was. The room was dim, the only light coming from a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. No windows, only one door. Concrete floors and what appeared to be concrete walls. There was furniture in this room though. An old olive green vinyl sofa sat up against the far wall, with plastic milk crates on either side serving as end tables. It felt like a basement. And then she suddenly remembered.

  She remembered escaping the restaurant where she was held captive since Tuesday. Traveling down the elevator and asking the guard to call 911. That was all she could remember.

  Well, my mama always said the shortest distance in the world is the distance from the penthouse to the outhouse. I suppose the penthouse to the basement is even shorter. I wonder what day it is. How long has this been going on? I know I was in the restaurant for five days. Now, I’m really screwed. With no idea how long I’ve been asleep and how many hours or days have passed, and no windows I’ll have no way to count the days. Damn! I should have stayed where I was. It was better than this. Where the hell is Court. I can’t believe he hasn’t found me yet. Oh God! What if something has happened to Court? Is anyone even looking for me? Don’t be silly Colleen. Of course people are looking for you. You are a U.S. Attorney who hasn’t showed up for work. Someone is looking for you. Do not become a victim of irrational thinking. Just because you have no one to talk to, you’re isolated and cut off from the world is no reason to loose your strength and sanity. You’re stronger than this, you hear me? I know one thing, if I get out of this alive, I’m burning this suit. Really? Why burn it, you could give it to charity.

  Oh crap, now I’m carrying on both sides of a conversation with myself. Isn’t that one of the first signs of insanity? Colleen! You got out of the last scrape, get busy and figure out how to get out of this one too.

  Isabel returned to the McAllister’s kitchen following a shower and a phone call. She felt a little self-conscience because she didn’t have a change of clothes, her make up or toiletries, but she needed a shower. It was almost silly not to return to her house and she made the decision to do just that. She hoped to leave before anyone else woke up, especially Tommy. The group had called it a night at three a.m. and gotten a few hours of sleep. Normally, Isabel wouldn’t be worried about such things as make-up. As long as she was clean, groomed and looked professional, that’s all she would care about. Tommy made the difference and she quietly crept through the house intending to run to her house to freshen up. As she turned the corner to enter the kitchen she jumped right out of her shoes. There stood Tommy. He was holding two cups of coffee. One cup was just reaching his lips and the other was held out to her. Oh how she would love to be that cup in his right hand…hovering merely a breath away from his lips.

  “It looks like you were trying to sneak out. Where are you headed so early in the morning and without telling your partner?”

  “I was just going to run by my house and get a fresh change of clothes. That’s all.”

  “Hmm, a likely story. You look beautiful you know. I just can’t let myself concentrate on that. Until we find Colleen any way. If you go home and come back looking even better, you will be a bigger distraction, so I just can’t allow that to happen. Sit down, drink some coffee with me, and let me tell you what I’ve been thinking about. I couldn’t sleep. I think I figured out what doesn’t make sense about this case.”

  “Okay, let’s hear it agent.”

  “We’ve been trying all along to figure out if someone is targeting Colleen or Court, right?”

  “Right. Colleen was kidnapped but the explosives angle points to Court.”

  “Yeah. So whoever is doing this knows a lot about both of them. It seems like someone is targeting all of the crime element in town. We have firebugs in trouble, the kingpin’s son is blown up in his car, we have drug dealers and gang members dropping dead from drugs and then this explosives treasure hunt. Someone is trying to make a stand or gain control of the city. But regardless of who that is how do they know that Colleen is a U.S. Attorney, Court is an explosives expert and they own a yacht parked at the Mud Island marina? And not only that they own a yacht but which one is theirs.”

  “So you believe that Colleen and Court are a separate case from what appears to be a Marvel quality battle between the villains?”

  “I don’t know for sure, it seems like too much coincidence any way you look at it. But whoever it is either has really good intel on a broad number of people or it’s a cluster of coincidences. I can tell you it would be my first coincidence cluster in thirty years of law enforcement.”

  “Okay, let’s assume you’re right. We can start digging into who would know so much about the McAllisters.”

  “I also heard this morning that the cop who died in the explosion last night wasn’t supposed to be there. Not only was everyone supposed to be out of the building when it happened, this guy was off duty. So we need to see wh
at connection he has to any of this.”

  “Let’s do it. You may be on to something. Maybe this cop is the break we need.”

  Chapter 47

  Upstairs at the McAllister house Frankie, Pierce, and Trent were dealing with a different problem altogether. Mutiny. The three men were in heated conversations with their women. Missy, Sarah Frances, and Abby were in the process of letting the men know that in their opinion, enough was enough and the women were on their way to Memphis.

  “Abby, what part of there are explosions happening all over town did you not get?” Trent asked.

  “The part where you are exempt from the explosions. If you’re exempt, then so are we.”

  “But that’s the point, I’m not exempt!”

  “I know! How well I know. You’ve already made one trip to the hospital. And yet you’re still in the middle of all this. I have no doubt you are right by Court’s side in everything he does. And you should be. But if you’re in danger, why is it so bad for us to be there with you?”

  “You men need us there to keep you in line and we can at least cook for you. You’ve been living on pizzas and fast food for a week now.” Missy tempted coyly.

  “Sunshine, you know I miss you and I miss your cooking too, but you girls really need to stay put. We need to focus on the task here. We don’t need anyone else to worry about,” Frankie cajoled.

  “Well, we are tired of worrying about you guys. So we’re coming. We can all just throw a worry party if you insist, but we want to be there and you can’t stop us.”

  “Pierce, you and I both know you guys are all off the case. So why can’t we be there waiting with you? It’s too hard being this far away with everything happening.”

  “Crap, Sarah Frances, have Missy and Abby figured out we are basically on house arrest? They’ve all but tied us up. Court is about to come unglued. You ladies don’t want to be here right now. I promise. Besides, there really isn’t room.”

  “Now there is my P.I. beginning to think like a P.I. Now think like a woman. Your hands are tied. You’re all trapped in that house. There isn’t room for all of us there. But if we come…”

  “We will be more spread out and it’ll harder for anyone to keep tabs on us. You ladies are brilliant. I can’t wait to see you. When do you arrive?”

  When the Skype calls were all completed, the three men looked at each other. For only a moment they all wore expressions betraying their horror and defeat. The lovely ladies they all longed for had effectively bested them all. And then, one by one, they broke into mischievous smiles and began to laugh. Quietly. Frankie, with all the brevity of a U.S. Marshal, said, “Oh crap. Who’s going to tell Court and Tommy?”

  “No one is going to tell Tommy. I still think that brother of mine is secretly working this case and not telling us and besides he’ll blow like a March tornado in Kansas. I think it’s best if we let the ladies do the talking when they arrive. They wanted in the middle of this after all. I’ll tell Court. He’ll be on our side. At least, I think he will,” Trent said as he stood and turned to go and look for Court.

  “I’ll start looking for hotel rooms and make some reservations,” Pierce said to no one in particular. If anyone was paying attention, though, they would have heard the laughter in his voice. He had never been prouder of the women than he was at that moment. His Ecuadorian Roses.

  Rodney Maden Jr.’s funeral turned out to be a big deal. Despite his brother and brother-in-law’s absence, over a hundred people gathered for the funeral. Of course, it was a closed casket service, so the family elected for a short graveside service. The three Maden women sat in chairs on the front row, surrounded by the children, and they all cried inconsolably through the service. Though they were certain Bill and Vance’s absence was noticed, no one approached the grieving widow or mother to ask about their whereabouts.

  There was no typical gathering at the family home following the service. The three women took the children and checked into a hotel to avoid those who would drop by unwelcome to deliver food and condolences. They had too much work to do to entertain and keep up the grieving charade.

  Chapter 48

  Bee Maden’s birth name was Belinda Coleman. Rodney was the first to call her Bee because he said she was always as busy as a Bee. Rodney didn’t care much for her family, likely because they didn’t care for him. Therefore for the forty-eight years they were married, as far as Rodney was concerned Bee didn’t see her family, except at funerals and occasionally a wedding. What Rodney didn’t know is that Bee was always partial to her younger brother, Vance. She secretly communicated with Vance all through the years and sent him money periodically that helped him get through college and a myriad of other financial problems. These days, Vance worked as a nuclear engineer at a power plant in central Arkansas. A few years ago, while Bee did her weekly ironing watching CNN she heard about the exhumation of Yasser Arafat to test for poisoning and Polonium-210 was mentioned. She questioned if Lance had the ability to get the poison that’s a byproduct of a nuclear reaction. Not wanting to disappoint his older sister he told her, of course, he could, but it would take a long time to accumulate a significant quantity. Bee told Vance to start collecting and she would let him know when she needed it. She called Vance and met him in Arkansas to collect the poison he had been accumulating for close to four years. Her intent was to end her oppressive marriage. But while she was gone, Rodney was arrested and held without bail. When he was convicted, she had done enough research to know just how she wanted to use this ingredient that the U.S. government bought monthly from Russia for $2 million a gram.

  While Rodney was off working sixteen and eighteen hour days, tending to his strip clubs and prostitutes, Bee was entertaining in her own way. If Rodney had ever caught her, he would have never suspected that his top supplier, Steve Sexton, was fooling around with his wife. He didn’t think anyone would be interested in her. So when Rodney was torn from the picture of their lives by the lovely U.S. Attorney, Bee celebrated and began to hatch her plan for taking over Rodney’s business. Bee knew the most obvious groups to try to fill Rodney’s roll in town were the gangs. She’d heard enough phone calls over the years to know Rodney was constantly challenged to keep the gangs within his rule.

  She remembered the conversation well and played it over again in her mind after she turned off the local news. After hearing the report of all those poor sick drug addicts and gang members.

  “Steve, I want you to take this vial and I want it spread between a measure of pot, heroin, and meth. Then I want you to distribute small quantities of each to the gang leaders. Tell them it’s a free sample of some extraordinary stuff they can try.”

  “What the hell is in this vial Bee?”

  “Nothing to concern yourself with. Just do as I ask, please.”

  “Bee, if you give them something they really like, they are gonna want more. Can you get more?”

  “No, I can’t. They won’t want more, I promise.”

  “Is it poison, Bee?”

  “Yes.”

  “What kind of poison? I need to know before I start handling the stuff.”

  “Just don’t eat it, smoke it, or inject it and you’ll be fine lover boy. Would I do anything to put you at risk?”

  “I hope not. I really don’t like not knowing what I’m dealing with here.”

  “Trust me. It’s better if you don’t know.”

  Bee was glad she didn’t divulge the info to Steve. She knew he felt beholden to her, he was respectful of her and supported her move to take over the business. But the one thing Bee knew from experience was to never trust a man.

  “Good afternoon, I’m Sheffield Davis reporting for Channel 6 News. It’s been a quiet day in the city following days of bomb threats and explosions. But tonight I’m at the Regional Medical center and they have a warning for the citizens of the city. What authorities first believed were overdose cases of a new designer drug is now much more dangerous. Blood tests of the individuals affected ha
ve shown low levels of marijuana, heroin and crystal methamphetamine or meth. The doses present in the bloodstreams are not indicative of overdoses and medical personnel have not been able to reverse the symptoms of a single patient. They now believe at least some of the supply of drugs in the city have been tainted with a poison of some kind. Lab tests have been inconclusive at this time. The symptoms include severe headaches, nausea, diarrhea, and eventually liver and kidney damage and complete failure. If you have consumed any recreational drugs in the past three days and are experiencing these symptoms, please get to an emergency room as soon as possible.”

  Bee chuckled as she walked away from the television set where she listened to the local news. She always did like that Sheffield Davis. He was so handsome she reflected as she went to the kitchen to decide what she wanted for dinner. And she heard the knock on the door.

  Chapter 49

  Tuesday afternoon. A full week had passed since Colleen was kidnapped, the Mari exploded, and this whole circus began. Court paced the back yard, Jake and Lucy sniffed around to make sure no uninvited guest had frequented their territory. Eight days of badly written clues, bombs, and taunts. They were no closer to finding Colleen. And now, more than twenty-four hours since they heard from the bomber. Court was beyond furious, he was terrified. The most terrified he could remember being in his entire life. He remembered the OKC bombing, knowing Colleen was in Oklahoma City, and not being able to reach her by phone. Fifteen hours went by after the news broke of the explosion before he had any word about Colleen and then it was bad news. At the time, her losing an arm seemed like the most horrific thing they would either one have to endure. In their young lives, nothing could compare to the feeling of being in an alternate universe. People they knew didn’t lose limbs, survive explosions, die in explosions. That happened in other countries. Court remembered feeling like those fifteen hours drug on for a week. He was certain his twenty-something self would have imploded and internally combusted after eight days of waiting and he wondered it he was about to now.