Jack Ryder Mystery Series: Vol 1-3

by Willow Rose

  Katie drew in a sigh of relief. It had been scary waiting at the motel for the police to make up their mind if they wanted to charge her with anything. They still hadn’t closed the case, Jack Ryder told her, but he didn’t believe she had anything to do with it.

  “Then, who was it?” Katie had asked.

  “That’s still under investigation,” he answered.

  Katie lucked out. She knew she did. She had a pretty good motive. The worst part was that the others believed she had done it. Both Leanne and Irene told her to her face. They were terrified of her, they said. And they had asked for another room at the motel while they waited for the police’s verdict. Katie had felt so lonely.

  Now, she was looking forward to getting back to the dorm after two weeks in Cocoa Beach. It hadn’t quite been the spring break she had dreamt about, but it would still be remembered as something special, she thought to herself.

  In the middle of all the chaos, she had somehow found herself. She had realized who she was. She wasn’t someone who simply took crap from everyone else…at least not anymore.

  Katie smiled when she thought about Britney’s face when she had slammed her fist into her pretty nose in the restroom at Grill’s restaurant that night. It had hurt like crazy on her knuckles, but it was worth all the pain. Just to get all the anger out that was threatening to burst inside of her. Just to feel the relief of justice being served to the BITCH.

  Katie chuckled and spotted a dead armadillo on the side of the road. She had surprised even herself. She didn’t know she had it in her. Neither did Britney, apparently. It had been such a thrill just to see the look on her face when Katie attacked her as she came out of her stall in the restroom. Katie had slammed her fist into Britney’s porcelain-face again and again, and as she landed, her chin slammed into the toilet. Katie picked her up from the tiles, spat into her face, then slammed her fist into her over and over again till she stopped making sounds.

  Katie knew she wasn’t dead when she picked her up and carried her outside to the deck on the back side. It was late and there were only a few people left in the bar. No one saw her as she threw Britney over the rail, and no one heard the sound her body made as it plunged into the canal.

  But Katie remembered. She remembered every little bit of it. Every sound, every feeling she had felt when giving Britney what she deserved.

  Boy, it felt good.

  It was even worth going to jail for. But, as it turned out, she didn’t even have to do that. She was getting away with it. From now on, no one would ever mess with her again. She looked at her phone and at the picture of Greg she had as the background. Katie knew she had probably lost him. He had been so shaken up by Britney’s murder that he hadn’t spoken to anyone afterwards. Katie had seen him as he carried his suitcases to the van when the others were let go. He had looked at her with terror in his eyes. That’s when she knew she wasn’t going to see him again.

  Katie opened the phone and deleted the photo. She also deleted Greg from her contacts. He wasn’t worth her love anyway. She looked up at the landscape, when suddenly, her phone beeped. She had received a Snapchat. Katie opened it. It was a picture of Katie, taken just as she tossed the body over the railing at Grill’s. Katie gasped. So someone had seen her after all? But who?

  The picture was gone after a few seconds, and she would never see it again. At least, she hoped. Lucky for her, that’s how Snapchat worked. It only lasted for ten seconds, then it was deleted automatically. So was any chat you ever wrote. She wrote back:

  WHO IS THIS?

  She received an answer and opened it with a pounding heart.

  WE SHOULD TALK

  Katie stared at the message till it disappeared. Her hands felt warm and clammy. Who was this person? Why hadn’t they gone to the police with what they knew? She wrote back.

  WHO ARE YOU?

  She waited a few seconds before the answer came.

  WE ARE THE ANGEL MAKERS. JUST LIKE YOU, WE FIGHT FOR JUSTICE. JOIN US.

  Katie stared at her phone till the message was cleared again. She couldn’t believe this. Somehow, they knew. Somehow, these people knew what she had done. She realized she didn’t feel bad or even afraid. As a matter of fact, she never felt anxious or afraid anymore. Not since that night when she had taken matters into her own hands. She felt strong. Independent. She felt in control. Nothing and no one could touch her now. These people knew her name. They saw her and understood what she had done. She felt like she fit in somewhere. She was famous. Finally.

  * * *

  THE END

  The House that Jack Built

  Jack Ryder #3

  This is the house that Jack built, y'all. Remember this house.

  ~ Aretha Franklin 1968

  Prologue

  THERE WAS A ROOM THAT WAS FILLED WITH LOVE

  Chapter One

  March 1986

  “I’m scared a monster will come and take me, Mommy.”

  Carrie Kingston looked at her seven-year old son with a smile filled with love. It was the same every night when tucking Scott in for the night. He was afraid of the dark, of monsters in the closets or under the bed. The child had a vivid imagination. Sometimes that was a good thing, an excellent thing, his teacher in first grade told them, but just not when going to bed.

  Scott suffered a lot from nightmares and almost every night he would wake up, walk down the hallway and climb into Carrie’s bed. It was getting tiresome for Carrie and Scott’s father, Jim, since they had to get up and get to work in the morning, and with Scott in the bed, they never slept that well. Carrie was okay with it for the most part. To be perfectly honest, she loved sleeping with her beloved son, but Jim couldn’t stand it.

  “It’ll be fine,” Carrie said and kissed her son’s forehead, then stroked his red hair gently. How she adored those light blue eyes. Carrie had always wanted a son. She had always imagined having a baby boy. So, when she got pregnant the first time, she was certain it was a boy. It had to be. She was so sure she had bought only boy’s clothing and boy’s toys. What a disappointment it had been when Joanne came along. It had devastated Carrie, and for years they kept trying to have another child, but without success. Finally, when Joanne was six years old, Carrie had gotten her lifelong wish fulfilled. A little boy. A little adorable baby boy just like the one Carrie had seen in her dreams. And her love for him was so big she could hardly contain it. Carrie didn’t mind admitting that Scott was the greatest love of her life. She loved him even more than she loved Joanne, even more than she loved her husband. Even more than she loved herself.

  Scott stared at his mother, then at the door to the closet. “Are you sure? I thought I saw something just before.”

  Carrie chuckled. She tucked the blanket tightly around Scott to make him feel safer. Her mother had told her that’s what she used to do when Carrie was afraid of monsters as a child.

  “I’m very sure. Remember, monsters aren’t real.”

  “They are to me,” Scott said. “Very real. I see them every night, Mommy. They look at me through the window.”

  Carrie looked at the window. They had left it open because the AC was acting up again. It hadn’t been able to cool the rooms down, especially not Scott’s bedroom, for a week now. Carrie knew they needed to get it fixed, but she also knew they couldn’t afford to have it done right now. Not when they had to have the truck fixed as well, and that was more important, since without the truck Jim couldn’t get to work. He needed it. Besides, it was still early spring, so the heat hadn’t gotten ahold of them just yet. There was a cooler breeze at night to cool them down. But it wouldn’t last long. Soon, they would have to have that AC fixed or it would be unbearable. Living in Florida, you couldn’t get by without the AC. It wasn’t like Ohio, where Carrie was from originally. This was very different.

  “Can we close it, Mom?” Scott asked with fear in his pretty blue eyes.

  Carrie shook her head. “I don’t think that would be very smart. It will be unbearable
in here. You need the air to cool you down.”

  “But the monsters, Mom. They can crawl through the window.”

  Carrie sighed again. It was hot in Scott’s room and she felt how clammy her son’s hands were.

  “The screen will stop them,” she tried.

  “No, it won’t, Mommy.”

  Carrie shook her head. She was getting tired of this. “Stop with the monsters, Scott. There’s no such thing.”

  “But…”

  “No buts. They don’t exist. They’re not real. It’s all in your mind,” she said, stroking her son’s cheek. “Now, go to sleep. You have a big day tomorrow, remember?”

  Scott’s face lit up. “The play,” he said. He had been looking forward to doing the school play for weeks now. Scott loved the stage more than anyone else. He had landed the lead in the play because he was a natural on the stage and had received much praise from his teacher. It wasn’t something that happened often.

  “I can’t wait,” Scott said and closed his eyes. After a few seconds, he opened them again. “Could you close the door to the closet?”

  Carrie got up from the edge of Scott’s bed and walked to the closet door and closed it.

  “There. Are you happy? No monsters can come in that way.”

  Scott nodded. A gust of wind came through the open window and grabbed the curtain. Scott gasped.

  “It’s just the wind,” Carrie said. “Now, go to sleep.”

  Scott nodded and smiled. “Could you leave a light on, please?”

  “If that makes you feel better,” Carrie said, and turned on the small lamp in the corner of the room.

  “It will. Thank you, Mommy.”

  Carrie smiled and kissed her son’s forehead once again. “Now, sleep tight. There’s nothing to be afraid of. This room is filled with nothing but love, and the Bible says love conquers all,” she said and left the room.

  Chapter Two

  March 1986

  It was the light that caught his eye and drew him closer. It was shining from the window into the front yard and lit up the night. He had been watching it for several nights in a row. It was always the same. The window was left open and the light shone through the thin curtains.

  It was like it was luring him in, telling him to come closer.

  So, he did. With his heart pounding in his chest, he walked to the house and peeked in the window through the screen…just like he had done the night before and the night before that.

  And just like the other nights, the boy was lying in his bed, sound asleep. He watched the boy for a little while and enjoyed how innocent he looked. It was breathtaking. The man had always been so amazed at how a little boy like that could seem so harmless, so blameless, when they were anything but that.

  Just sleeping like he hasn’t a care in the world. Doesn’t have the faintest idea of the evil lurking right outside his window. But, guess what, little friend? Evil is everywhere. Even in the ones you trust the most.

  The boy moaned in his sleep and kicked off his blue blanket. He was feeling hot. His skin was glistering.

  There was a rustle from a bush and the man turned to look, but didn’t see anything. There wasn’t a car in the street. It was all so quiet. He loved the nights. In the nights you could roam free; in the nights, no one watched.

  The nights are more alive and more richly colored than the day.

  The man thought about the quote by Van Gogh, which had been written on the walls in a toilet booth. He had memorized it because that was exactly how he felt. Come to think of it, that was how he had always felt. Even as a child, he would often wake up at night and stay up for hours. He liked the quietness of the house when everyone else was asleep. As a child, he would go to his brother’s room and look at him while he was asleep. He would just stand there and imagine hurting him. He would grab a pillow and pretend to put it over his head and just hold it down till he didn’t move anymore. Smother him like Caligula did to Tiberius to succeed him as a Roman Emperor. Stories like that had always fascinated the man. He had devoured everything about the Roman Empire they had taught him in school as a child.

  The boy mumbled in his sleep now, and the man turned to look at him again. He turned to the side and groaned. His giraffe toy fell to the floor. The boy didn’t notice.

  The man looked at him and tilted his head to better see. He was smiling in his sleep now. Seeing him smile made the man lose it. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He grabbed the screen and pulled it off the window, then he pulled the window up to make it completely open, and climbed inside the bedroom. He walked to the bed and leaned in over the little boy. Then he stroked him gently across the cheek.

  “Having a nice dream, are we?” he whispered. “Enjoy. It’ll be your last.”

  The sound of his voice close to his ear made the boy open his eyes. As he spotted the man, he opened his mouth in order to scream, but the man forced his hand over it and covered his nose as well. The small body tossed and turned underneath him. The boy’s wild eyes stared at him in desperation. He held on to him till he passed out, then he let go. He waited a few seconds to make sure he was breathing before he lifted him up and carried him out the window and put the screen back on, before he carried the boy to his car.

  He started the engine and took one last glance at the window where the light was still shining. He chuckled, thinking how ironic it was that the nightlight was supposed to keep the monsters away.

  Chapter Three

  March 1986

  “Scott? It’s time to get up!”

  Carrie walked inside her son’s room and found the bed empty. She walked to the bed, then to the closet, and checked if Scott was in there getting dressed. But it was also empty.

  The bathroom. He’s probably in the bathroom. Of course. He’s nervous about today and has been up for a long time. Now his stomach is acting up like it always does when he is nervous.

  Carrie chuckled then walked to the bathroom door and knocked. “Honey? Are you in there?”

  There was no answer. “Scott? Are you okay?”

  When there still was no answer, Carrie opened the door that she had always instructed her son to not lock. Her heart dropped as she realized the bathroom was empty. She looked in the shower, just to be sure, but knew in her heart that Scott would never take a shower voluntarily.

  “Scott?”

  Carrie’s voice was starting to tremble. She didn’t like this. Unease was spreading through her body like wildfire.

  Where is my son?

  Carrie walked through the hallway into Joanne’s room.

  “I’m up, Mom. You don’t have to check on me,” she snarled.

  “I wasn’t checking on you, Joanne,” she said to her always-angry teenage daughter. “I’m looking for Scott. Have you seen him?”

  “He’s not in here,” she said. “The midget probably hid somewhere. He’s so childish. What a dork.”

  Carrie chuckled. Of course that was just it. Scott loved to play hide and go seek, especially when they were in a hurry.

  “Now go, Mom. I have to get ready for school,” Joanne said.

  Carrie shook her head and scoffed. Teenage-girls these days. They were so vain and spent such a long time getting ready. When had that happened? It was just the times, she tried to explain to Jim, who didn’t understand anything of his daughter’s constant obsession with her own appearance. She was madly in love with Rob Lowe and wanted to look like Demi Moore and sing like that awful Madonna. When you had just turned thirteen like Joanne that was all there was.

  “When I was her age, I worked from early in the morning,” Jim would say. “At this time of day, I had fed the cows and the chickens and cleaned out the stables before I rode my bike three miles to get to school. And I didn’t even have breakfast first.”

  Those were his stories, and they would grow more and more impressive each time he told them.

  Jim was sitting in the kitchen with his coffee when Carrie came out to him. He grunted behind the newsp
aper.

  “Have you seen Scott?” Carrie asked.

  “No,” Jim answered.

  “I think he might be playing hide and go seek with me, and I don’t have time for it this morning.”

  Jim looked at his watch. “Speaking of time,” he said. “I gotta go. I’m late for the bus.”

  Carrie kissed Jim on the cheek, gave him his lunch, and watched as he rushed out the front door. She felt bad that he had to take the bus to work, but she needed the car to buy groceries and had to go to work all the way in Rockledge. She needed it more than him today.

  We’ve got to get that truck fixed.

  When he was gone, Carrie continued the search for her son.

  “Scott, come on out now!” she yelled. “I give up. You win.”

  Still, she was met only by silence.

  “I don’t have time for this. Don’t let me get angry with you.”

  When he still didn’t show himself, Carrie started to pour cereal in his bowl, thinking maybe his hunger would lure him out. Joanne came out in the kitchen, grabbed some cereal for herself, and started to eat.

  “I don’t think he’s here,” Carrie said anxiously. “He never hides for this long.”

  Joanne shrugged. “Maybe he already went to school?”

  Carrie lit up. “The play. Of course, that’s it. He must have been so excited he couldn’t wait for the rest of us to wake up. He probably rode his bike to school or something.”

  “His bike is still in the driveway,” Joanne said, glancing out the window.

  “Well, maybe he walked,” Carrie said and put on her shoes, grabbed her car keys, and stormed out the door.

  Part One

  THIS WAS THE LAND THAT HE WORKED BY HAND

  Chapter Four