“Who’d a thought you’d have something to do with overthrowing an entire government, Partner? You’re a hero,” Lou remarked while tearing his chicken drumstick apart. They were at The Moonhouse Takeaway having lunch under the outdoor tent.
“I’m no hero,” Nick replied. “Sheri Clarke’s the real hero. She did the right thing when it was probably the hardest thing she ever had to do in the world!”
“You’re so right.” Lou agreed. “It had to take a lot of guts to turn her own husband in. But let’s not forget, it also took a lot of guts for him to come clean, even though he’s the killer.”
“He did it for his family.” Nick thought for a few moments. “You know, through all of that I didn’t sense much contrition from him for having killed the guy. I expected some remorse at least for the guy’s family, but it was more for how he ruined his life and jacked up his own family.”
“Can you blame the poor guy for that? Sounds like that Jackson fella was a real creep in most people’s books. It’s hard to feel remorse for a creep, Nick.”
Nick took a gulp of his soda. He was glad to be back home, but also looked forward to making that trip back to Haston for Thaddeus Sherman’s trial.
* * * *
On January 22nd, 2011, Kevin Clarke was convicted of murder in the second degree, much to many people’s surprise. He was handed down a sentence of twenty-five years to life, but could be released early on good behavior. Sheri was thankful there was a possibility that her husband would not die in prison and might someday return home to his family.
Nick had put in a good word for Kevin, vehemently stating that without him, a group of political shysters would have surely avoided justice.
Ben Benjamin was released into the wide open arms of his mother after all charges against him were dropped. He’d spent eight months in prison.
TWENTY-SEVEN
All eyes were on former Prime Minister Thaddeus Sherman as he was escorted inside the packed courtroom by plain-clothed detectives Steve Davis and Eddie Palmer. He was made to sit in the prisoner’s dock and listen as one Kevin Clarke sat in the witness box, ready to tell a tale that most persons present in that room would hear for the first time – a scandalous tale of manipulation, greed, and murder.
The prosecutor looked at Kevin and said, “Mister Clarke, please explain to the court the series of events which led to the murder of Jackson Cunningham that fateful afternoon of August 3rd, 2010.”
Spotting Sheri straight ahead in full support of him in spite of everything that had happened and Detective Nick Myers seated next to her, Kevin cleared his throat, took a deep breath in and started at the beginning.
Thaddeus sat quietly as Kevin spoke, staring at him with eyes that, if possible, would rip through his very soul. He looked defeated as he sat there in the same spot where many persons he’d defended had sat before he ever entered the political arena. For a fleeting moment he wondered if he had resisted the power and privilege he’d foreseen in politics in those early years, and just stuck to his successful law practice, if he ever would have ended up where he was that day. The sad part for him was that he’d never know.
At the end of the three week trial, Thaddeus Sherman was convicted of all charges and sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole. His co-conspirators were also convicted and given sentences between twenty and thirty-five years in prison.
The NDP won the majority of seats in the by-elections and once again, Haston was governed by locals. However, the stench of corruption and cold-blooded murder that the CPP had brought on the country had never been extinguished. Within their first few months in office, the NDP kept its pre-election promise to remove the majority of taxes and they lowered the remaining ones. Residents were thriving again and the memory of Jackson Cunningham soon faded with the wind.
~ THE END ~
Next in this series…
‘John Doe’
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A Riveting Paranormal series!
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FREE EXCERPT OF BOOK ONE IN THE REAL ILLUSIONS SERIES
Real Illusions - The Awakening
One
_________________
RAUCOUS MELODY
* 1 *
As lightning illuminated the dark, dismal sky and heavy, rumbling thunderclaps reverberated behind it, the rain drizzled from the thick forest trees onto the wet ground. The wind proved its dominance, forcing bushes to sway violently as if dancing to a raucous melody.
Tiny, helpless creatures sought shelter within the thickest clumps of trees, cringing in fear as the wailing wind declared unequivocal danger.
The wooden shutters affixed to the huge mansion tottered on their old, rusty hinges as they carelessly battered the concrete wall. The dusty ceiling fan inside one of the upstairs bedrooms shook relentlessly as if on the verge of collapsing.
Trent Matheson awoke in a cold sweat. Trembling feverishly as the nausea and terror gushed through his body, he sat up in bed. His throat was painfully sore and his eyes drained a slimy mucus that almost blinded him. The nightmare was mind-stalking; taunting images of the part of him that proved not only petrifying, but undeniably real.
As the breeze slithered in through the open window, sweat sheathing his red, heated skin began to dissipate. He eased up from the bed, approached the window and through dilated pupils, beheld the terrifying essence of his life staring at him from afar, yet with stunning force.
The sweat began to pour again; this time not as rapidly. He shook his head in desperate hope of relief, yet scenes of what he had envisioned in his nightmares still lingered tenaciously in his mind.
His unremitting nightmares portrayed a frightening truth. Clearly, he was the only one left - all the others had suffered a gruesome demise.
Nearly a mile away, with flourescent-green, beaming pupils, he beheld the roots of an uplifted tree which he effortlessly counted. He exited the bedroom and descended the iron stairway into the Great Room. The front door was widely ajar and after thoughtlessly passing through it, he advanced toward the dense, dark woods behind the old, tired mansion.
His steps were small and ambivalent as he approached the uprooted tree and though detesting his seemingly bizarre capabilities, he was intent on gaining a closer look to count them again, hoping that he would have miscounted the first time.
On arrival, he stooped next to the tree and carefully counted again. He was right! There was certainly no mistake. As blazing disappointment overwhelmed his tormented soul, tears gushed from his eyes and streamed down his cheeks onto his bare chest like the cascade of a waterfall. Then suddenly he heard a noise, a stir of the bushes and on turning around, instantly spotted a tiny squirrel behind a pine tree a few feet away staring at him through small, unrevealing eyes. The creature's presence instantly fomented an aching desire within him that he desperately yearned to subdue.
Trent momentarily turned away, drawing upon his innermost strength, but seconds later, he looked back. The animal was now staring at him as if contemplating whether it was safe to stay or safer to run, but after feeling a keen sense of closeness to the stranger and in some odd way trusting his presence, it decided upon the former. Trent's desire quickly intensified. There was no more denying himself - no more turning away as if he had the commanding strength inside to avoid it. He stooped down on all fours and slowly crept up to the little mammal. A moment later, he moved in an inch or two closer, seized it by its furry neck and looked into its now frightened eyes. He loved its feel, its smell, its familiarity. Resistan
ce soon left him; he couldn't seem to control himself. Satisfying his most unusual craving, he ignored the animal's dying squeals until only bones were left — dry, tasteless bones.
Minutes later, he walked back to the house almost robotically with a bloody drizzle on his mouth. Conflicting sensations of contentment and guilt overwhelmed him. He ascended the stairway and crawled into bed. Three hours remained until sunrise. Sitting up, he watched the long hand move sluggishly around the face of his wall-clock as the harrowing thoughts continued. So far, life had been semi-normal; no one in his wildest dreams would have imagined who or what Trent really was.
Soon after, he wiped his brow and lay back in bed with eyes ajar, eagerly awaiting dawn.
* 2 *
A screech at the cottage door woke Solange from her dreamless sleep. Someone was out there - she knew it! Rising cautiously, she grabbed the weighty chow-chow figurine from the bureau and silently approached the bedroom door.
Preparing herself for the worst, she glanced at the alarm clock that sat on the night-stand near the bed. It was 8:15 exactly. She took a deep breath, then slowly unlatched the door. She couldn't help thinking how she had missed work that day due to a terrible migraine and now a strong, agonizing feeling revealed that she was in for an even greater headache.
Solange stood at the door with an ear pressed against the splintered frame. She was able to meticulously target the stranger's whereabouts as the wooden floor echoed his movements when suddenly, he stopped. Instantly, her heart sank and pure panic set in as troubling thoughts invaded her mind. Maybe I should dash out now, she thought. He may not be too far away from the door. That way, I can quickly attack him before he has the chance to attack me. But… maybe, just maybe, he isn't so close and if he isn't, I haven't the slightest chance!
Her heart sank even deeper as she opened the door slowly and peeped through, clutching tightly onto the figurine she deemed her only defense. She saw nothing - no one. She was all alone: No one was around to help her if she were brutally attacked. Yet, Solange was confident that she could handle herself. She had learned from the best: Her father, Noel, now deceased at the hands of the French mafia, was a force to be reckoned with.
She eased through the doorway and headed into the clustered living room. The stillness of the house and its eerie silence assured her that the intruder was definitely near. She stopped for a second, hesitant to move any further, when suddenly she heard the scrape of heavy metal behind her. In that moment, someone lunged at her from behind the couch. He grabbed her hair, covered her mouth with his hand and dragged her into the bedroom. Solange struggled intensely for freedom, but to no avail. Her attacker was strapping, and he had overpowered her from the moment he touched her.
The man threw her onto the bed, yanked his knife from his pocket, and calmly said: "Take your clothes off and lie back. If you make even the slightest sound, it'll be the last sound you ever make."
Solange reluctantly slipped off her t-shirt and underwear, then lay back quietly in bed, convinced he had made no empty threat. She could see his face now. It was Ferdinand Marquis, a middle-aged, French police officer with a neatly trimmed moustache and husky physique. She had known him all too well as his reputation for brutality preceded him. His khaki pants were already unzipped and he wore no shirt.
The look on Ferdinand's face and perverted lust in his eyes made Solange regret the moment she ever opened the bedroom door. Why didn't I just hide and call the police? She thought. Maybe I wouldn't be in this dreadful position right now.
The off-duty policeman positioned himself beside her, then glided his large hand over her perky breasts, squeezing her rigid nipples and whispering lewd words into her ear. He quickly slid his trousers down to his ankles, then climbed on top of her, thereafter thrusting his hard, stiff manhood into her slender body. The pungent odor of liquor made her gasp for air beneath him, and the resentment she held inside her heart for her merciless attacker grew and grew. She knew it was all done in the name of spite due to her previous rejection of his lascivious proposals. Lying there angry and humiliated, she thought: He had better kill me when he's done, or God help him!
Now under the impression that he had tamed his victim as she had stopped resisting, he dropped his knife to the side, intent on focusing on the wanton task at hand. Hours seemed to have passed when Solange’s right arm hit the pillow and suddenly, she remembered something she had always kept hidden beneath it before falling off to sleep at night. Slowly and cautiously, she slid her hand underneath the cushiony fabric; a few inches in she felt it, then gripped it tightly. She knew she had a chance now, but timing was everything: One major slip up could cost her her life.
As he was immersed in sexual pleasure and about to climax, she knew it was now or never. Such as of a surge of a lightning bolt, she yanked out the ice pick and plunged it deeply into his side. Falling off of her, he groaned in agony and felt with his hand the blood gushing from the inside. Unable to move and with eyes that sought unmerited sympathy, he watched her get up from the bed with a cold, callous stare which convinced him that no compassion would be found there. Solange stood nearby as if in a daze and watched as a short while later, Ferdinand breathed his very last breath.
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Other Fiction Titles by Tanya R. Taylor
INFESTATION: A Small Town Nightmare (The Complete Series)
Real Illusions: The Awakening
Real Illusions II: REBIRTH
Real Illusions III: BONE OF MY BONE
Real Illusions IV: WAR ZONE
Cornelius (Book 1 in the Cornelius saga. Each book in this series can stand-alone.)
Cornelius’ Revenge (Book 2 in the Cornelius saga)
CARA: Some Children Keep Terrible Secrets (Book 3 in the Cornelius saga)
We See No Evil (Book 4 in the Cornelius saga)
The Contract: Murder in The Bahamas (Book 5 in the Cornelius saga)
The Lost Children of Atlantis (Book 6 in the Cornelius saga)
Death of an Angel (Book 7 in the Cornelius saga)
The Groundskeeper (Book 8 in the Cornelius saga)
Haunted Cruise: The Shakedown
The Haunting of MERCI HOSPITAL
Hidden Sins Revealed (A Crime Thriller - Nick Myers Series Book 1)
One Dead Politician (Nick Myers Series Book 2)
10 Minutes before Sleeping (A Romantic Suspense)
Visit the author's website for more information.
A 5 star Spine-tingling paranormal tale
#1 best-seller
True love will never die.
Thirteen-year-old Mira is very unhappy at home. She hates the way her emotionally unavailable father treats her mother – a woman who practically worships the ground he walks on.
But things are about to change.
One day, Mira and her brother Wade head out to explore a large, wooded area near their home. They are unaware that their innocent adventure would open up the bowels of history in a most uncanny way. Shortly after their exploration, an uninvited guest invades their personal space. Unsure of what to do, Mira turns to the one source that is bound to have all the answers--a rather unlikely source.
The Plot:
Forbidden romance
Betrayal
A brutal history
An unexpected visitor
Paranormal activity
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Dangerous & Deadly- The Nick Myers Series Page 28