“So, you two still want to have kids?”
The words were intended as a joke, but they cut deeper than she would ever know.
***
Crying had always been easy for Samantha to fake, as were most human reactions, and she cried much in the following days.
The court had placed her in the care of her grandparents and the older couple dotted on her as if she were a princess, and, in fact, had even bought her a pony.
The servants were all kind as well and everyone was determined to see that she had everything she wanted, given the tragic circumstances that she had recently suffered.
Her grandparents were wealthy, and as fate would have it, she was their only heir.
Samantha smiled as she rode her pony about the grounds of the estate, because, as everyone knows, all the really fun games are played with money, and someday, someday when she was older, when she was finally an adult, she would play the grown-up games, and she had no doubt that she would win them all.
PART FIVE - STILETTO
CHAPTER 22
Oscar Kisiel sat in his cell inside a Maximum Security prison in Florida.
While acting as the serial killer, Stiletto, Oscar Kisiel had murdered twenty-seven people, two of which were police officers.
Although six different states had wanted to try him for murders committed within their borders, it was Florida that was given the responsibility and Oscar had sat on death row ever since.
However, time was running out for Oscar. After numerous appeals, he had finally reached the end of his legal rope and was days away from being put to death by lethal injection.
His life since his arrest had been just short of hell.
Kisiel spent twenty-three hours a day inside a six-foot by eight-foot cell that had no windows, but just a sink, toilet, and a bed with a thin mattress. The hour of the day that was left over was spent in a gray-walled courtyard hardly bigger than his cell, however if he looked up, he could see the sky.
There were no bars on his cell. He was kept locked away by a thick metal door that operated electronically. His meals arrived at the same time every day and were delivered through a slot in the door. The guards never talked to him while they delivered and picked up his tray, and he answered their silence with his own.
He had always lived in a fantasy world, and it was the acting out of those fantasies that led him to murder in the first place. He fantasized still, the same fantasy, which he had run through his mind for well over a decade.
His fantasy was to kill Dr. James White and Dr. White’s son-in-law. They were the two men he blamed for his capture, and their deaths were all he ever thought about.
There were actually two slots built into the cell door. The one in the middle was for meals, but the small one, the one at the top was for gawking.
The top slot slid to the left with a harsh, grating sound that Kisiel had come to detest, and the face of a guard stared in at him. Kisiel rose from the bed and stood with his hands presented behind his back.
“Open number three!” the guard shouted, and a moment later, the cell door slid open and the guard walked in and placed a set of manacles on Kiesiel’s wrists, in preparation for transport to the exercise yard.
Five minutes later, he was in the courtyard and staring up at the sky.
Somewhere overhead was a plane and the sound of the metal bird broke Oscar’s heart. There was nothing he wouldn’t give to be on a plane, a plane headed far away from Florida.
The plane drew closer and the sound of its engines morphed into a high-pitched wail, as it approached the prison and blocked out the sun. A moment later, the engine sound was deafening, as the tip of a wing smashed into the east guard tower and killed everyone inside, right before the jet slammed nose first into the main prison yard.
The explosion that followed was so massive that it knocked Oscar off his feet, and as he lay on the ground, the wall to his left swayed, before finally collapsing and crushing the guard that was with him.
As the dust cleared slightly, Oscar could make out the fires, but he knew of them already, because the temperature was suddenly so elevated that he sweated profusely.
Oscar made his way over the rubble and barely avoided being struck by one of his fellow inmates, who was alight and screaming in agony as flames consumed him.
There were bodies and pieces of bodies everywhere he looked, but on one corpse, the corpse of a man who had most likely been an Air Marshal, he spied a gun, and quickly made it his own.
He skirted around the main fire and towards the sound of numerous voices whooping in delight, whooping so loudly that they could even be heard above the shrill whine of the prison sirens.
All around him, injured prisoners rolled on the ground in agony, and he even saw a small child, her teary face was splattered with blood and she wore only one shoe, but otherwise she appeared unmarked.
When he finally cleared the thick of the smoke, he saw the line of convicts climbing over a pile of rubble twelve feet high and he joined them. Within minutes, he was running along a highway clotted with traffic, because one of the doomed jet’s engines was sitting aflame atop a flattened motor home.
He hadn’t run very far when the adrenaline gave way to the fact that he had scarcely moved more than a few feet at a time in over a dozen years. His muscles weren’t atrophied, but they also weren’t accustomed to such demands as running entailed.
Up ahead, a motorcycle cop had corralled two of his fellow escapees and was handcuffing them together, ankle to wrist.
When he was twenty feet away, Oscar aimed his newly acquired gun at the cop and fired four times. Three of the bullets hit one of the cars stuck in traffic, causing its occupant to scream, however the fourth bullet caught the cop right beneath the nose and he fell dead atop the concrete road.
Chaos broke out as drivers frantically sought escape and slammed uselessly into the vehicles in front of them, while others abandoned their cars altogether and ran down the highway.
Oscar grabbed the dead cop’s helmet, gun, wallet, and badge before tossing the handcuff keys to the pleading inmates, and as he rode off on the motorcycle by zigzagging between the stalled traffic, he laughed, while fantasizing about slipping a long, sharp blade into the soft belly of Dr. James White.
CHAPTER 23
They were watching the news about the plane crash when Jessica’s father called.
“Hi honey, I suppose you two have heard about the plane crash in Florida?”
“Yes, Daddy, and it’s horrible, all those poor people,” Jessica said.
“It may be more horrible than you realize. The prison that the plane crashed into is the one where Stiletto was being held.”
“Stiletto? Oh my God,”
He had been watching television, fully engrossed in the drama that the news helicopters were broadcasting from the scene of the plane crash, but at the mention of Stiletto’s name, he jerked his head around.
“What’s this about Stiletto?”
“Daddy says that he was in that prison.”
“Then that means there’s a chance he escaped.”
Jessica spoke to her father again.
“It’s got to be sheer chaos at the prison right now, but they are reporting that dozens of prisoners escaped. For now, I think it would be smart to assume that Stiletto’s escaped too.”
“I suppose you’re right, but even so, Florida is a fair distance away,”
“Yes, Daddy, but until we know for certain, why don’t you come and stay with us? I’d feel better knowing that you were safe.”
“Well... alright, and I’ll bring Gabby along too.”
“Gabby left on vacation yesterday, remember? She’ll be in the Bahamas for a week.”
“Right, I’d forgotten, well she’s certainly safe there.”
“Yes, and Daddy, do you have any idea where Jimmy is? I know he wasn’t around the last time Stiletto threatened us, but he could be a target.”
“The last time I heard from y
our brother he was in Bolivia. I wired him money for airfare home, that was two weeks ago.”
“That sounds like Jimmy. I guess he’s safe then, if we have no idea where he is, then neither will Stiletto.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, honey, goodnight,”
“Goodnight, Daddy,”
As she hung up the phone, her husband spoke to her.
“That’s a good idea for him to come here, just in case,”
Jessica stared at the scenes of carnage showing on the TV.
“I have a bad feeling about this.”
***
Stiletto was at a truck stop in Georgia, talking with one of the hookers that frequented the place.
He was wearing the clothes of a man he had shot and killed in Florida, less than an hour after making his escape.
He left the man’s body inside his home, a double-wide trailer he’d broken into, and stolen the man’s car, a green Chevy Cavalier with rust spots. The police motorcycle he’d escaped on was pushed into swamp water, and sank from sight.
The hooker said her name was Candy, and she and Stiletto had just made a deal. He handed her one of the dead cop’s credit cards along with a hundred dollars found in the cop’s wallet.
“Just why are you going to Maryland?”
“They just got a new Police Chief here who’s got a stick up his butt. The cops have been hassling me non-stop, it’s time to move on, know what I mean?”
“Yes, I’ve been doing some running of my own.”
“Now you say that all I have to do is to stick this card in an ATM machine when I get to Maryland?”
“That’s it, but just make sure not to get caught on any cameras. I need the cops to believe that it was me who used it.”
Candy stuck the card and the money in her pocket.
“I got you, and you can count on me to do it. I love fucking with the man any chance I get. God, I hate cops.”
Stiletto smiled. “You and me both, baby,”
A man in an ancient John Deere cap came over and spoke to the woman.
“You ready to go?”
“Yeah, but hey, Johnny, what time do you think we’ll get to Maryland?”
The man slapped the side of the truck they were standing beside.
“This load has to be there by seven a.m., so let’s get movin’.”
Candy said goodbye to Stiletto and climbed up into the cab of the truck.
As the lights of the eighteen-wheeler disappeared from view, headed north, Stiletto got into his stolen car and headed west, while anticipating the sweetness of his revenge.
CHAPTER 24
5:21 a.m.
It was the sound of the dog barking that woke him, but a moment later, their phones began buzzing and flashing on their nightstands and he knew that they had an intruder on the property.
Jessica sat up.
“Stiletto?”
“Possibly,” he said, while he grabbed his jeans and sneakers “But if it is, he must have driven here non-stop.”
With a gun in his hand, he went out into the hall and down the stairs, where he found the dog whining at the front door.
Outside, all was ablaze with light, as their security system lit the property and hidden cameras recorded the slightest movement.
When he opened the door, the dog went charging up the driveway and he followed at a jog, while watching for anything that moved. He found the dog near the tree where he had installed the first of the motion sensors. There was no one about, however, there was something lying atop the asphalt, and the dog was giving it a good sniff.
Flowers, it was a bouquet of red roses.
He picked up the flowers and saw that there was a card attached. In block letters, were the words:
SOON MY LOVE, VERY SOON
The words had been written with a black marker.
He walked back to the house with the dog, Stitches, at his side and the flowers gripped in his hand. Jessica was standing out on the porch in a silk robe and holding a gun.
“What do you have there?” she asked.
“I think you may have a secret admirer.”
“What?”
He showed her the flowers and the card.
“This is odd, but I suppose that it has nothing to do with Stiletto.”
“No, and our security system scared them off.”
“Maybe some lovesick kid from the college came to the wrong address?”
“Maybe?” he agreed, but his tone was uncertain.
They entered the house and reset the alarms. Both of them were now wide awake and so they decided to have coffee. As Jessica prepared it, he sat at the table and fed Stitches a few dog treats as a reward for his alertness.
Jessica leaned back against the counter as they waited for the coffee to brew.
“You know, this got me to thinking. What if Stiletto escaped and then drove straight to Daddy’s house? Maybe we should ask the police there to keep an eye on him until he leaves to come here.”
“It’s already handled,”
“What? The police are looking after him?”
He smiled.
“They are, but I also called in a favor from a friend.”
***
8:41 a.m.
Stiletto watched as the police car rolled away from Dr. James White’s home. Apparently, Candy the Hooker was true to her word, and the authorities now believed that he was in Maryland.
He was standing in the living room of a vacant home with a For Sale sign in front. The house was across the street and two homes over from the White residence. His stolen car was parked on the block behind this one, and he had walked through several yards to get where he was now.
The front door opened, and Stiletto watched as a man in a robe and slippers walked out onto the porch to pluck a newspaper off the steps, before heading back inside.
The doctor was home.
He had a head full of luxuriant white hair now and was maybe ten pounds heavier than Stiletto remembered him to be, but it was Dr. James White alright, and it took all of Stiletto’s self-control not to march across the street, kick in the front door, and gut the hated doctor atop his own dining room table.
But, that would ruin the plan. He wanted both men, he wanted Dr. White and that damn son-in-law of his that had shot him and sealed his fate. He owed both men for all the wasted years of rotting away in that box of a cell while waiting for the courts to order his death.
For just a moment, it occurred to him that he was free now, that a miracle of fate had spared him and that if he was smart and played it safe, he might very well live out his life a free man.
He shook his head at the idea. No, he needed revenge against those that wronged him, and even if he were caught again after he killed them, he knew that he would spend every moment from that point on with a smile on his face, for in truth; revenge was all he lived for.
His plan was simple. Watch the house until the doctor left and then enter his home and wait for him to return. Once he returned, torture him to gain the whereabouts of his daughter and son-in-law, and once that information was attained, he would kill the doctor with a knife, while savoring every moment of his death.
A little less than an hour later, Dr. White exited his house with a suitcase in hand.
The son of a bitch is going into hiding. Stiletto thought. Alright then, it’s time for plan B.
***
Dr. White had just sat his suitcase in the trunk when he heard the footsteps coming up behind him.
He turned to find Stiletto rushing towards him with a knife in one hand and a gun in the other.
“Oh my God...”
The sound of the shots startled both men, and the doctor watched as a spray of blood erupted from Stiletto’s right arm and the knife clattered to the ground.
Coming at them from the left was a huge black man dressed in camouflage fatigues and firing shot after shot at Stiletto.
Stiletto fired back until his gun was empty, and then suffered another wound, as a bu
llet traced a crimson path above his left ear. Stiletto flashed the doctor a look of hatred, before dashing towards the open door of the doctor's home and running inside for cover.
The doctor shied away from the black man as the man reached out and took him by the arm.
“Dr. White, my name is Tyler and I was asked to protect you.”
“By whom?”
“By your son-in-law, and I see now that his concern was well grounded. Now please come with me and I’ll take you to your daughter, my vehicle is the van parked at the corner.”
The doctor gestured towards the house, as up and down the block, the neighbors stuck their heads out their doors to see what had happened.
“My laptop and phone are sitting on the table by the door. I need to go back for them.”
Professor Tyler Davidson shook his head at him.
“Leave them, Stiletto either ran out the back door or he’s lying in wait, but my main concern is to get you to safety.”
Doctor White stared at his open front door and pictured Stiletto standing behind it with a butcher knife at the ready. He plucked the suitcase from his trunk and looked up at Tyler.
“Let’s get out of here.”
***
Stiletto ran through Dr. White’s home and out the back door of the kitchen, while leaving a blood trail in his wake that reminded him of the false one he had followed to his doom years ago.
The bullet had entered his right arm at the bicep and exited leaving behind a hole that he could actually see through. Meanwhile, the slug that had creased his scalp had given him a brutal headache, and as he cut through the neighbors’ yards, he fought back the impulse to vomit.
When he could run no farther, he stumbled over to a set of back steps and sat to catch his breath.
The pain in his right arm was beginning to equal the ache in his head, and yet, he smiled as he read the front of the colorful envelope he had swiped from the table in Dr. White’s kitchen. An envelope with a most interesting return address,
The envelope was lying beside the card it had once carried, a card that read—Happy Birthday, Dad—from the two of us, and the card had been signed by Jessica and—
The TAKEN! Series - Books 1-4 (Taken! Box Set) Page 31