Davonshire House Publishing
PO Box 4741
Augusta, GA 30916
THIS BOOK IS A WORK of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s vivid imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely a coincidence.
© 2019 Olivia Gaines, Cheryl Aaron Corbin
Copy Editor: Teri Thompson Blackwell
Cover: Corbin Media, LLC
Olivia Gaines Make Up and Photograph by Latasla Gardner Photography
ASIN: B08CTQBH44
ISBN:
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever. For information address, Davonshire House Publishing, PO Box 9716, Augusta, GA 30916.
Printed in the United States of America
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First Davonshire House Publishing August 2020
Blind Copy
The Technicians- Book 5
OLIVIA GAINES
Also by Olivia Gaines
THE TECHNICIANS SERIES
Blind Date
Blind Hope
Blind Luck
Blind Fate
Blind Copy
Love Thy Neighbor Series
Walking the Dawg: A Novella
Through the Woods: A Novella
Life of the Party: A Novella
Modern Mail-Order Brides
North to Alaska
Montana
Oregon Trails
Wyoming Nights
On a Rainy Night in Georgia
Bleu, Grass, Bourbon
Buckeye and the Babe
The Tennessee Mountain Man
Stranded in Arizona
The Zelda Diaries
It Happened Last Wednesday
A Frickin' Fantastic Friday
A Tantalizing Tuesday
A Marvelous Monday
A Saucy Sunday
A Sensual Saturday
My Thursday Throwback
Slivers of Love Series
The Deal Breaker
Naima's Melody
Santa's Big Helper
The Christmas Quilts
Friends with Benefits
The Cost to Play
A Menu for Loving
Thursdays in Savannah
DEDICATION
For Rosalyn Jackson Manning who won the contest and named her Willow Rayne and the baby Dusty Rose.
This book is dedicated to all the men afraid to say yes, terrified to say no, but holding on by a thread just in case.
.
“Easy reading is damn hard writing.”
- Nathaniel Hawthorne
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To all the fans, friends, and supporters of the dream as well as the Facebook community of writers who keep me focused, inspired, and moving forward.
Write On!
Table of Contents
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A Charge to Keep I Have
Prologue
Chapter One – Lookalike
Chapter Two – Mock-Up
Chapter Three – Representation
Chapter Four – Replication
Chapter Five – Mimeograph
Chapter Six – Facsimile
Chapter Seven – Likeness
Chapter Eight – Transcript
Chapter Nine – Dummy
Chapter 10 – Dupe
Chapter Eleven – Similar Duplicate
Chapter Twelve – Pirate
Chapter Thirteen – Reproduction
Chapter Fourteen – Replica
Chapter Fifteen – Phony
Chapter Sixteen – Sham
Chapter Seventeen – Carbon Copy
Chapter Eighteen – Bootleg
Chapter Nineteen – Forgery
Chapter Twenty – Photocopy
Chapter Twenty-One – Photostat
Chapter Twenty-Two – Ditto
Chapter Twenty-Three- Blind Copy
Epilogue
Meet Olivia Gaines
A Note on the Technicians
Book Club Questions:
Recipes
Apple Sweet Potato Hash
Croque-Monsieur
Blind Turn:
Your next Mail Order Bride- Maple Sundaes and Cider Donuts
Chapter One - Gemütlichkeit
cop·y /ˈkäpē/ noun
a thing made to be similar or identical to another.
"the problem is telling which is the original document and which the copy"
Similar duplicate
replication
representation
carbon copy
carbon
photocopy
transcript
dupe
lookalike
replica
reproduction
counterfeit
imitation
likeness
bootleg
mock-up
dummy
print
pirate
sham
forgery
facsimile
A Charge to Keep I Have
1 A charge to keep I have,
a God to glorify,
a never-dying soul to save,
and fit it for the sky.
2 To serve the present age,
my calling to fulfill,
O may it all my pow'rs engage
to do my Master's will!
3 Arm me with watchful care
as in Thy sight to live,
and now Thy servant, Lord, prepare
a strict account to give!
4 Help me to watch and pray,
and still on Thee rely,
O let me not my trust betray,
but press to realms on high.
Author: Charles Wesley
This is Karli.
Turn the page so our next adventure in reading can begin. See you on the other side.
Prologue
RAPHAEL HOYT STARTED the drive home from Kentucky, heading to South Carolina. In more ways than one, it would have felt good to pull the trigger and take Tempest out of play, but she was really efficient at her job. She had a God given talent for stroking the right vein in a man to remind him of a small moment they shared together which made him feel important. His one moment with Tempest Fateman was shared five years ago on a dance floor.
He recalled the moment with pain and clarity. He hated pedophiles. Honestly, he hated any man who preyed upon defenseless women. Phillip, or Phil Weston, was the worst type of predator. A slimy man who took a job as a janitor at an all girl’s school and spent his nights drugging the young girls so he could have his way with them. Unfortunately, Raphael caught him in the act when he arrived to fulfill the contract.
Then people saw Mr. Exit’s face.
He’d almost gotten caught on camera had it not been for Tempest. She should have been long gone, but she stayed behind for a hair to ensure that all surfaces were cleaned leaving no trace evidence. Mr. Exit made that task difficult to complete. Phil angered Mr. Exit to the point he’d been sloppy in the execution of the task leaving evidence not only on the floors, but the ceilings, the walls and pieces of gray matter stuck in the air vents. Raphael also found himself high in his emotions, thinking about what his sister and niece had endured at the hands of her husband.
“Mr. Exit, I’m going to break the rules this one time,” Tempest said, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him onto the makeshift dance floor she’d created. “Look at me, look into my eyes, can you feel my body against yours?”
“Yes, I can,” Raphael replied.
; “Good, my name is Tempest,” she said. “I know you should only know me as Wrong Way, but my name is Tempest. Can I ask yours?”
“Raphael,” he answered, forgetting his anger momentarily, loving the feel of her in his arms. “I am Raphael.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Let’s finish the song, exit through the side door, and go our merry ways. The body has been staged, the cops will tie him to the other crimes, and the rest is for the history books. Our work here is done, Raphael,” she said softly, rubbing the center of his back like a mother would during a child’s nightmare, only the way that Tempest moved against him felt more like a long-lost lover reminding him of a better time.
Wrong Way was no longer a member of the Crew. She returned home and became a housewife. Her husband would get that comforting touch from her. She was his problem now.
RAPHAEL REMAINED IN Louisville two additional nights, double checking the Muldrake home for signs of the Glitter Man as well as ensuring Wrong Way’s vision hadn’t come back. Moreover, he wanted to make sure she wasn’t pulling a fast one on him pretending to be sightless. Taking to high ground, he watched Tempest feed the chickens, completely unaware a black Eastern Hog Nose snake was near her dainty feet. The well-built and overly handsome husband of hers pushed the slithery serpent out of his wife’s path, and she didn’t seem to be aware at all that she was so close to a nonvenomous snake. If there was one thing Raphael knew about Tempest Fateman, the lady didn’t care for reptiles of any sort.
Convinced of her inability to see and his inability to glean any traces of glitter near the family, he made his way down I-64, headed towards Lexington. The 10-hour drive back to Hilton Head seemed long and boring, and for a moment, he hoped for a phone call. Not that he was anxious to take a life, but it would be preferable to listening to his own thoughts about Tempest having a family, which for the oddest reason didn’t set well with him.
Lately, it seemed to be the going trend with his fellow Technicians. A couple of years back, Mr. Mann had gotten himself a wife and kid and had recently added another one. Then Mr. Stop went to check out the wife of a skip trace and ended up in Missouri with a wife and kid himself living in a sod house with a living roof. Or at least, so he’d heard. What really chuffed his chaw was that Mr. Yield, that monosyllabic caveman, went and got himself hitched to a little lady out of Missouri as well, which is where Tempest picked up her piece of trouble that left her blinded.
“I know one damned thing,” Mr. Exit mumbled to himself, “I’m staying the hell out of Missouri.”
He drove nearly three hours before needing a cup of coffee and a bathroom break. Just outside of Red Ash, Kentucky, Raphael pulled into a Welcome Center. He usually chose the Welcome Centers that were brightly lit, on a state property, and normally devoid of too many weirdos in the early parts of the evening. The latter parts of the night he could not attest to, but at a little after four in the afternoon, making the stop was a safe bet.
The sound of a barking dog caught his attention. A tall man with a scraggly beard and suspicious eyes checked the bushes where the dog had located an object. Raphael stood next to the black SUV for a moment observing the man, who became uneasy, collecting his animal and moving back to the pickup that had mud caked over its license plate.
“Hmmph,” Mr. Exit mumbled, checking his inner coat pocket for his favorite weapon. Raphael climbed into his truck, which had the engine still running, and backed up, parking with the butt end towards the bushes where the dog had been sniffing, leaving the door unlocked. Due to his profession, the inner lights of his vehicle were disabled, lessening the opportunity to be spotted by the interior lights of the vehicle. The dog had ceased to bark, but the truck hadn’t moved, and the driver’s eyes were focused on the rear-view mirror, watching the bushes.
Raphael walked past the old truck, nodding a greeting.
“Hey, I can keep an eye on the dog if you need to run inside and handle some business. My dog can get mighty antsy if I’m gone too long,” Raphael said to the man.
“Yeah, I’ll put him on a leash. You can keep an eye on him that way. If the windows are down, he’s just gonna jump out,” the guy said, dragging his eyes away from the rear-view mirror.
“Go on, I’ve got him. What’s his name?”
“Butchy. I’m Theodore,” the man offered.
“Nice to meet you, Theodore. I’m Ian,” Mr. Exit said, giving his middle name. “Come on, Butchy. Let’s take a little walk so you can water the hedges.”
“You sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. I mainly stopped to stretch my legs, get a bad cup of coffee, and grab a bag of chips from the machine. I’m trying to get Knoxville before nine to get 40 winks,” Mr. Exit offered.
“Great, be back in a jiff,” Theodore said, heading to the bathroom.
Mr. Exit held Butchy’s leash and walked toward the vending machines. The few bills he had in his pocket were used to score a bag of nuts, chips and a cold, sugary sweet drink. His back was to the truck while Butchy whined.
“Okay. Okay,” Mr. Exit said, walking the dog to a nearby patch of shrubs. Butchy raised his leg, providing yellow water to the plant that hadn’t asked for any precipitation. The dog, satisfied that he too had relieved himself, barked happily at his owner’s return.
“Thanks,” Theodore said, taking the dog back to the old pick up.
“No worries. Safe travels,” Mr. Exit said, taking the snacks to his own vehicle. He sat behind the wheel, placing the snack and drink on the backseat. His bladder would have to wait for the next exit, which was at the Tennessee state line on the other side of Jellico.
The turn signal clicked on as Raphael pulled from the parking space, driving down the egress, entering traffic, and merging onto the interstate. The rattle of the plastic wrapper didn’t faze him as he heard the pop of the soda can and a small mouth guzzling down the sugary sweet liquid.
“You’re safe for now,” Raphael said. “I took a chance that you would get in the vehicle once I moved it closer to you. The man was not your father?”
“No,” a small child said. “I like your voice. You have a voice like a nice Daddy that reads great bedtime stories.”
Mr. Exit cleared his throat, trying to get the child to come back on track, “Was the man planning to hurt you?”
“No, but he was going to take me to other men who would,” she said, shoving a handful of nuts into her mouth.
“Have those men or Theodore hurt you before?” he asked looking into the rear-view mirror trying to see who he was speaking with.
“Theodore is not allowed to touch me or the Mothers,” she said. “He has his own wives. I don’t have anyone but Willow Rayne and Dusty Rose. They are my nest and take care of me. You know like baby birds, with a Mommy who brings them food and keeps them warm.”
“Do you know how to get to where Willow Rayne and Dusty rose live?”
The child sounded small, hungry, and very thirsty. She gulped down the soda, making a loud burp, then opened the bag of chips. Her manners weren’t lacking as she asked to be excused for the loud gassy expulsion of air.
“Sorry, but I am so hungry. I don’t get to eat until after date night,” she said, frowning. “It would have been my first date night, but I didn’t wanna go. Some of the girls come back from date night very sick. Hurt. Bleeding down there.”
Raphael’s hands gripped the steering wheel. He’d heard so much of this before. Cults of pedophiles masquerading as holiness and wellness centers of the new age of people living off the grid. They were dens of iniquities preying on the less fortunate. He knew them all too well since he’d lost his sister to one in Ohio.
If it hadn’t been for the Archangel, a man very few of the technicians actually knew personally, going inside one of those cults on a late night to rescue his sister, the niece who ran track at Idaho state would have been just like the child in the back seat; a victim with no future outside of more abusive men.
“Sweetie, do you know w
here I can locate your mothers?” Raphael asked. He didn’t know what to expect from the kid. She sounded very small. Maybe six or seven at the oldest.
“Right outside of Pine Knot in Daniel Boone National Park. Well, not in the park, since that’s the gub’ments land, but right on the edge of it. Willow Rayne and Dusty Rose are there. He’s going to sell them soon,” the small voice said. “Willow Rayne won’t allow Him to touch Dusty Rose, although he says she’s ripe for the plucking. Willow Rayne fights hard to keep Him away from Dusty Rose. She don’t know they took me.”
“What’s your name?”
“Karli Jebsen,” she said.
“Do you have parents, Karli?”
“No,” she said softly. “My father fought against them, and they killed him a few years ago. I think it was years, I’m not that great at telling time on a calendar yet. My real mother tried to get away, and Him sold her to the men with mustaches who talk funny, but Him kept me.”
“Karli, are there a lot of men at this place where you live or just Him and Theodore?” Raphael wanted to know.
“Him. Theodore. George and Kindred, who really wants Dusty Rose. No one trusts that guy,” she said. “In the morning, Willow Rayne and Dusty Rose will walk to the Wolf Pen Creek to get water and wash clothes. I think we should meet them there and escape with you.”
“With me?”
“Yes, I prayed for help like Willow Rayne taught me to do when I was terrified, and that’s what I did,” she said. “I prayed. You pulled up and scared Theodore and I ran and hid. Butchy started barking, letting you know something was wrong, then you moved your car so I could get in it, and you brought me food. I need more because I’m still very hungry, and I need to pee.”
“Karli, I should call the police and let them handle this,” Raphael said, trying to see the child in the back seat.
“Why? The police come out every Friday and go into the mating hut with a different girl each week. The policeman also wants Dusty Rose, but only Him can have the girls first,” she said. “Him wanted me, but Willow Rayne wouldn’t let Him touch me either, which is why Him was sending me out for date night. I hate it there. Please help me. Help us.”
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