BLOOD and JUSTICE
Rayven T. Hill
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses, organizations, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by Rayven T. Hill at Smashwords
Copyright 2013 Rayven T. Hill
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Dedication & Acknowledgements
Many thanks to Merry De Winter for her hours of editing and proofreading. Her suggestions and insight have helped streamline the story and smooth out a few bumps. Thanks to beta readers for your comments and suggestions. Thanks to those who have paid good money for this book. I hope you got your money's worth. And not least, thanks to my wife for her patience.
Prologue
Eight Years Ago
THE REASON his plan was so good, was because it was so simple. He was counting on one fact. Joey was stupid. Not really stupid, like, stupid stupid, just dumb.
When Jeremy had told Joey he’d found a hidden cache of money and jewels in the woods, probably hidden there by a robber of some kind, Joey was dumb enough to believe him.
He laughed out loud at the thought.
He looked down, aimed his father’s old H&R 22-caliber revolver, and took another shot, this time in the head. The boy on the ground stopped his pathetic whining, crying and pleading, and remained silent and still.
The deed was done. Someone had to take care of this. He knew no one else would understand. Certainly not his mother, or the police, but Jeremy knew all too well it had been necessary.
Shoving the weapon in his belt, Jeremy Spencer looked around. Except for a couple of birds breaking the stillness, the forest was dim and quiet.
He crouched down and examined the body. The first bullet had entered his stomach. The blood was flowing from the wound, and darkening the hue of the already red and brown autumn leaves beneath the fresh corpse.
The second bullet entered just below Joey’s left eye. Blood trickled down, following the path of his cheekbone, and then to his neck, and finally dripping like dew onto the forest floor.
Drip, drip, drip.
He reached out, and with his finger, touched the wound beneath Joey’s eye. It felt warm. He looked at the crimson on his finger, and gently touched it to his tongue. It tasted sweet, and thick. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. The taste of the blood on his tongue somehow made him feel pure, whole, and righteous.
He was filled with a feeling of euphoria, breathing rapidly, his heard racing, excited. He knew at that moment, what he had done was fully justified.
He remained still for several minutes, contemplating. He thought about his father. Father would approve.
Finally, he stood up, straightened his back and took a deep breath. He bent over, and grabbing the bloody corpse by the leg, he dragged it to the hole he had previously prepared. A fierce shove with his foot sent the body tumbling over, and then down, finally landing with a thud at the bottom of the waiting grave. He picked up the shovel, and set about filling it in.
He labored for some time, humming to himself as he worked. Finally, he tossed the last shovel full of dirt, covered the area with twigs, branches, and dead leaves, and stood back.
“That should do it,” he said aloud.
He contemplated a moment longer, and then resting the shovel on his shoulder, he turned and hurried for home.
He was expected to be there by five o’clock. Best not keep his mother waiting.
Chapter 1
Monday, August 8th, 6:00 PM, Now
JAKE DRAGGED another piece of piping hot apple pie onto his plate. His wife was the best cook he’d ever know.
“Next time honey, I’d appreciate if you would let me do the talking. Especially with something so sensitive.”
Jake looked at his wife. “Sorry,” he said, barely intelligible through his bulging mouth.
His wife was right of course. He had almost bungled their last task, as simple as it was. They were hired to find a man’s missing son. No problem there. A few minutes online, and it was done. But going off half-cocked, Jake had made a call and demanded he contact his father. The boy almost hung up on him, and it was only when the more sympathetic Annie got involved, that she was able to convince the boy to contact his father. There was ultimately a satisfactory outcome for all.
“Well, no harm done,” she said, with a smile that made Jake wilt. She knew how to tell him off without making him feel too bad. She knew he was a bit impetuous. Sometimes that was good, sometimes not so good.
“I’ll let you handle things like that next time.”
Jake helped Annie clean up the table, and put the dishes in the sink. He sighed. “It’s been a while since we had a real case,” he said. “I’m tired of barely making ends meet.”
“We’re doing ok. Just let me handle the finances.”
Jake grunted. She was better at that too. She was better at a lot of things than him. What would he ever do without her? He took a sideways look at his wife. At just over five feet four inches, she was still about the prettiest thing he had ever seen. Her mid-length golden hair, and the trim figure she had kept all the years since he had known her, made his heart melt and his spirit soar. No wonder he thought the world of her. She was his motivating force.
The phone jangling on the counter interrupted his thoughts. Jake leaned back in his chair and scooped it up. “Lincoln Investigations. This is Jake.” Silence for a few moments. “Yeah, hold on Chrissy. She’s right here.” Jake handed the phone to Annie.
“Hi Chrissy, how’s everything?”
Annie and Chrissy had been friends forever. Seems like they were always yakking, Jake thought as he wandered into the living room. Grabbing the remote, he switched on the TV. Just some stupid sitcom. He flicked through the channels, eventually gave up, and flicked it off again. He tossed the remote back where he found it, and stretched out on the couch.
A rocket the size of an eight-year-old boy suddenly landed on his chest. The rocket’s name was Matty, a bundle of energy, and ready to wrestle his father into submission. The battle soon took to the floor, but before long Jake surrendered, pinned down, and seemingly helpless.
From the kitchen came a warning, “Don’t you guys break anything in there.”
Annie finished cleaning up in the kitchen and went to the makeshift office, dropping into the swivel chair behind the desk. The office, formerly an unused bedroom, was sparse. A couple of bookcases lined one wall, filled with read and unread novels, several books on law, a few looked like manuals of some sort, and a row of rarely used and obsolete encyclopedias. A few prints hanging on the wall and a well-worn carpet completed the look.
She opened the top drawer of the desk they had rescued from the thrift store and pulled out the accounting ledger. Jake was right. Money was a bit tight. That new camera equipment had set them back a bit, but it had been useful when they were hired to evaluate the honesty of a department store employee by posing as a customer. The camera had caught him red-handed in the act of loading some expensive computer equipment into a waiting van.
Lincoln Investigations had only existed a few months, and Annie realized it would take some time to land steady business. The ad in the Richmond Hill Daily Times was pulling in a fe
w clients, and Annie was confident in the future of their agency.
Prior to starting their current undertaking, Annie had been doing part time work as a research assistant for a fortune 500 firm. The crunch came, when Jake had been let go from his job as a construction engineer at Cramer Developers due to downsizing. But now, starting as a freelance researcher, and then moving full-time into a detective agency, things were looking up.
Most of their clients engaged them to obtain evidence for cases of divorce, child custody, missing persons, information about individuals’ character or financial status, and Annie’s experience had been a natural progression into their current enterprise.
Jake did most of the grunt work, chasing outside leads, stakeouts etc., but this evening she knew he was feeling a little restless. There hadn’t been much for him to do lately, and he was aching to be useful.
Tuesday, August 2nd, Six Days Ago
JEREMY PUFFED and panted. He stopped for a well-needed rest. He had never grown much. Now at twenty-four years old, he was only five feet three, or maybe four, inches tall, and as thin as a teen-ager. In fact, he was still often mistaken for one. He’d had to use his brains rather than his brawn to get anywhere in life.
The bundle he maneuvered from the trunk of his 2005 Hyundai dropped to the ground with a dull thump. It wasn’t easy dragging almost two hundred pounds of dead weight for someone so small, but he finally managed, with great effort, to heave and roll it over to the hole. The blanket came loose from its contents, exposing a bloody corpse.
The trees around him snapped and ruffled in the warm afternoon breeze as he stopped again to wipe the sweat from his face with his dirty shirtsleeve. The pungent smell of the nearby swamp permeated the air.
Jeremy preferred to bury the bodies here, in the forest. A secluded place away from prying eyes. Easier to cover them up and hide them. Here they would never be found.
Good riddance.
He knelt down and stared intently at the body. The blood around the wound looked dry, and dark, but as he touched it, it was still slightly moist, and warm. He wiped his hand across the ground and stood, and for a moment, he gazed quietly at the body.
Bending over, he gave another heave, and the corpse slid to the bottom of the shallow hole. He kicked the bloodstained blanket in behind. A few minutes more work. Pat the ground flat. Cover with leaves. The job is done.
But now he still had one more task to do. He was perplexed. The guy got what he deserved, but what about the girl. I can’t let her go, but I can’t hurt her. That would just be wrong. He had to come up with an idea. But for now, she was safe.
Tuesday, August 9th, 3:30 PM
DETECTIVE HANK CORNING reached across the desk and gently touched the woman’s hand. “I’m sorry Mrs. James. We’ve done all we can do. Your daughter has been missing for almost a week now, and there’s no information to go on. There’s no evidence of foul play, and the Captain just won’t allow any more resources and time.”
The woman sitting across the aging desk from Corning was in her late thirties. She still had signs of true beauty, but right now the grief and anxiety clouding her face was masking her true allure.
The woman bowed her head and gave another little sob. She dabbed at her tears with a soft white handkerchief, and slowly nodded her head. “I just know she wouldn’t go anywhere without telling me.”
Corning nodded sympathetically and sighed deeply. At forty years old, he had been doing this job for almost twenty years and had seen more than his share of grief. Missing kids, murdered kids, and victims of all kinds. He was tired. Tired of all the pain. Tired of feeling helpless.
He ran his fingers through his short cropped, slightly graying hair, and sat back. “I’m really, really sorry.”
Mrs. James looked intently at the detective. The hope in her eyes had grown dim but she knew he had done his best. “Will you keep trying?”
“I’ll do what I can Mrs. James,” he promised gently.
The woman clutched her purse and pulled her jacket around her as she stood up. “Thank you detective.” She gave him a fragile smile.
Corning’s heart was breaking and he stood and watched her turn and head slowly toward the door. “Mrs. James...”
She turned back.
“Perhaps a private detective...”
Tuesday, August 9th, 9:59 PM
SHEETS OF RAIN were pounding against the office window. A bit of wind had come up suddenly, and now threatened to remove the shutters as they rattled and clapped. The big oak in the back yard was sighing under the strain.
Jake was on the phone. The woman sounds desperate, he thought. “We can come to see you Mrs. James, or you are welcome to come to the office.”
“I would prefer if you could come by here,” she said.
An appointment was arranged for the next morning. Jake hung up the phone.
Annie poked her head into the office. “What was that?”
“That was Mrs. Amelia James. Apparently, Hank recommended she talk to us. Her daughter is missing, and the police have nothing more to go on. I told her we would do our best to help locate her.”
“Another missing kid. Thank God for the internet. Hopefully we can track this one down as fast as the last one.”
“I’m not so sure this time. She’s been gone for a week. She didn’t take any of her things with her, and just disappeared. Her mother says it’s just not like her to do anything like this.”
Jake stood up and came from behind the desk toward Annie. He was a daunting sight at six feet four inches tall, short dark hair, and an impressive physique. After eighteen years married to this hunk, Annie was continually awed at the sight of him. She put her arms around his neck. He drew her close and buried his face in her hair. She always smelled good.
“We’ll find out more tomorrow morning. We have an appointment to see her at ten,” he said.
Annie looked up at him and nodded, and said. “By the way, I’ve invited Mom and Dad over for a barbecue Thursday evening. Is that ok?”
Jake frowned at her and sighed. “You know I don’t get along too well with your mother.”
“I know. She can be a bit trying at times. Just try to be patient. She’s not all that bad.”
He pulled away from her. “Oh, and always giving instructions on how we should raise our own son? It’s hard to be patient with that.” Jake sounded annoyed.
“She’s my mother, and I don’t want the two of you fighting. Besides, she does have some good suggestions.”
“Oh, like sending Matty to a private school? Who’s going to pay for that? Did you forget my money tree ran dry? I don’t know how your father puts up with it either.”
Annie shot him a sharp look. “My father is an amazing guy,” she said. “He’s been through a lot, and he’s happy, so leave him out of this.”
“I have nothing against your father. I agree with you. It’s your mother. She treats me like a kid. She thinks I’m not good enough for you. Maybe I’m not, but it’s none of her business.”
“Look, I don’t want to argue about this,” Annie said. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen them, and Mom has been hinting at coming over for some time, so I had to invite them.” She paused. “And Matty needs to see them once in a while as well. They adore him. Especially Dad. He’s his only grandson.”
Jake plunked down in a chair and looked up at her. “All right,” he said. “I’ll try to keep it under control.” He paused. “For you.” He secretly hoped it would still be raining by then.
Annie bent over and kissed him quickly. “Thank you.”
Jake stood up and drew her close again, “but right now it’s time for bed.”
Annie smiled. She was all for that suggestion.
Chapter 2
Tuesday, August 9th, 9:58 AM
JAKE BROUGHT THE 1986 Pontiac Firebird to an abrupt stop under the shade of an ancient oak. Annie crawled out of the passenger door. She stepped onto the sidewalk and surveyed the house in front of her. T
hey were in a fairly exclusive part of town. It seemed like a quiet and safe upper-class family neighborhood. Sitting on about two acres of land, the house was by no means new, but it had been restored to an elegant finish with vintage character. A winding path in front leading through a well-maintained rock garden led to a large verandah guarding the front doors.
The solid forged brass doorknocker clanged as Jake knocked three times. In a few moments, there was a rattle of chains, and the door swung open. A tall and remarkably beautiful woman appeared in the doorway.
Jake introduced them, “Good afternoon. We’re Jake and Annie Lincoln, from Lincoln Investigations.” He handed her a business card. She looked at it briefly and smiled. “Come in. I’m Amelia James.”
She ushered them into a fashionable sitting room. Larger than our whole house, Annie thought. Feminine flourishes and modern lines with the absence of a rug made the look sparse and showcased the beautiful dark hardwood floors. Matching bookcases with what appeared to be antique books framed a huge fieldstone fireplace on either side.
“Would you like tea? Coffee?”
“Coffee please. We’ll have coffee.” Jake spoke for both of them.
Mrs. James beckoned toward a comfortable divan and Jake and Annie sat. She left the room and returned a moment later, sitting across from them in an overstuffed armchair. She leaned forward and looked intently at them, sizing them up.
Annie placed a small digital voice recorder on the coffee table in front of her. “Do you mind if I record this interview Mrs. James?”
“Go right ahead. And please, call me Amelia.”
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