Deadliest Intuition

by E. Raye Turonek

  Gertrude turned, catching him amid admiration of her essence. “What are you staring at? See something you like?” she uttered with a twist in her hips. One side of her brows lifted over bedroom eyes.

  “Very much so,” Ronald admitted yet remained as cool as a cucumber. “But I should get to cleaning this fish. It’s already dark out. It’ll be hard to see where I’m gutting.” He tossed and spun the blade round in his hand.

  “You’re pretty good with your hands. I have all the confidence in the world in you.” She walked toward him at the pace of a lioness stalking prey.

  Ronald grinned, surmising what she considered his hands were pretty good at. He certainly planned to test the theory that night.

  “Give me about thirty minutes or so.” He kissed Gertrude atop her forehead, then lifted her mouth to his with a finger under her chin. The space between her thighs moistened. Ronald tasted her full, soft lips with his tongue before theirs intertwined. She would have been content with the kiss never ending. So much so that when he leaned back, Gertrude remained frozen in a transient state, lost in his kiss.

  “Would you like for me to grab some wood for a fire?” he smiled, witnessing her drift back to reality.

  Oh, how romantic, she gushed silently. “A fire sounds perfect.”

  “I may need an ax then.”

  Chapter 45

  The Element of Surprise

  Daryl and Joey watched from the woods nearby. Between the two of them, they had one gun, which stayed in Daryl’s possession. The mission was to kill Ronald and kidnap Gertrude. After selling Brenda and Gertrude to the buyer, they wouldn’t have to worry about money for at least a couple of months. She and Brenda were to be sold to Daryl’s new business contact from out of town. He liked the fact that he didn’t have to do it often because it paid so well. Money had made Daryl the worst of the worst. Nothing was above it, and nothing stood in his way of it. He liked it quick and easy. Even so, it wasn’t money that was the root of his evil.

  Joey was still learning. Being out on his own and up from under the watchful eyes of his parents, he’d fallen prey to the wolves and since had become one of the pack. He didn’t care what would happen to Brenda or Gertrude after getting rid of them. The sooner they got it over with, the better. As far as he was concerned, the job would only give him more clout out in the streets.

  “Ole girl is probably up by now.”

  “It don’t matter. She’s tied up anyway,” Daryl said.

  “What if she has to use the bathr—?”

  Daryl pressed his finger to his lips, halting Joey’s rebuttal. “What the fuck is that?”

  The music blasted from the outside speakers. “My darling, I can’t get enough of your love, baby.” Barry White was loud enough for even the neighbors to hear.

  That’s when out of nowhere, the arrow pierced the tree Joey had taken cover behind. He screamed, taking off into the dark forest.

  Inside, Gertrude sashayed across the kitchen, knowing the same tune playing for her, played for Ronald. If she only knew he was amid the act of murder, her two-step might not have been so graceful.

  Outside, the ax Ronald planned to chop wood with ended up ingrained in the tree that provided cover for Daryl. “What the fuck?” Daryl screamed as he fired off into the woods in retaliation for the near-ax murder he had been subject to. “Joey! Come back. We’ve gotta stand our ground.”

  He tried swaying his cowardly friend, but it was too late. Joey had booked it off into the wilderness with nothing but the crescent moon lighting his path. Up ahead, the moon shined bright where he saw a clearing among the trees. He pushed through sharp twigs and hopped over downed logs to make it there . . . to make it to the point where his world turned upside down.

  “Help me,” Joey yelped, his body being yanked into the air like a rag doll. The rope had snatched at his ankles, pulling his feet up into the air before some netting cocooned him. Joey tried to scream again, but the combination of hanging upside down, along with inhaling the chloroform-soaked rope that pressed against his face, caused him to pass out within a minute.

  One down, one to go. Ronald trekked through the woods, making his way to the tree stand for a better view, one where he had full vantage of his property. There would be nowhere Daryl could hide. Ronald’s boot caught the first rung on the ladder against the tree trunk, then each after that in a flash.

  Meanwhile, Daryl had found a toppled-over log to lie behind. It would be hard to see him wedged there between the tree and the dead foliage . . . he hoped. A bright strobe of light came closer, threatening to reveal Daryl’s hiding place. He’d be out in the open. Target practice, he feared, sticking his face back down into the leaves.

  That’s when everything had gone black. Ronald’s light was blown. Someone shooting from below had taken it out with one bullet. Daryl got up, hoping to take off far beyond where the light could illuminate, should it come searching for him again.

  Ronald grabbed hold of his trembling arm. “Someone else is here, sister,” he whispered. He could feel it in his bones. He scooped up his rifle from the corner of the tree house, ready to protect his property. The pressure to keep Gertrude safe and none the wiser had become more complicated than he thought.

  Then, suddenly, chop! A blade sliced through the rope holding his first capture, sending Joey’s body plummeting toward the earth beneath him. His skull cracked open upon crashing into the ground. He’d hemorrhaged and died without even waking from his chloroform-induced coma. And although he was no saint, a crimson halo formed atop the leaves under his head as he slowly bled out.

  Hell-bent on finding them all, Ronald trekked through the darkness, though not lost. Ronald Doolally knew those woods well, from the trees, standing or downed, to the ground, grassy or soiled. But what he felt then under the soles of his shoe was damp earth. His boot kicked the corpse lying limp on the leaves, at which point a surge of reassurance coursed through his veins. Ronald harbored no doubt. He would kill them all. The question was, who had killed Joey?

  On the other hand, Tom had Ronald in his sights through the set of infrared goggles strapped around his head. The old man was headed right for him. He wanted Ronald to see his face before his end. He made his way clear through the trees on Ronald’s right. But just as he got close enough to call out to him in full view, he saw the butt of the gun crash down atop Ronald’s head, sending his body crashing to the ground.

  “I got you now, muthafucka.” Daryl relished his capture. He’d flanked Ronald on the left, catching him unaware.

  “How does it feel to get ambushed in your own yard?” Daryl aimed his weapon down at Ronald, at which point he heard the twig snap. “Who’s there?” He held the gun up in defense, then quickly reminded himself of his comrade. He lowered the gun just a little so that either one of them, the newcomer or Ronald, could feel the bullet should he choose to pull the trigger. “Joey, come on out, man. I got him,” Daryl professed, brandishing a sly grin.

  Bit by bit, his face started to come into view as he took off his binoculars to speak. “I’m no threat to ya. Go on and do your business, then go on your way,” Tom instructed.

  Daryl’s eyes squinted to see what he was already sure he had heard. That groggy-like robot tone in his voice . . . Those words. How could he ever forget? Daryl’s heart pounded as the recollection bored a hole into his brain.

  * * *

  Young Daryl chased his football up the street into the neighbor’s yard. When he scooped it up, that’s when his eyes fell upon the man with smoke leaking from a hole in his neck. The man smiled at the adolescent boy, then pulled a candy bar from his pocket.

  Young Daryl’s eyes bucked. Chocolate bars were his favorite.

  “Go on, take it. I’m no threat to ya.”

  Daryl wanted to trust the man. So much so that he did. Daryl headed up the porch, accepting the sweet treat with graciousness. “Thank you so much, mister.” He held the candy in his hands as if it were a bar of gold.

  “There’
s more inside. Just grab a handful off the table,” the man instructed as he casually puffed his cigarette.

  A happy little boy went into Tom Swine’s home.

  * * *

  Tom barely recognized the damaged man standing before him, but what he did find familiar was the look in Daryl’s eyes. It was the same look they had all given him, every one of his victims at one point in time. Tom knew it well. With his weapon cocked and ready to fire, Tom didn’t waste another second. He pulled the trigger on the off chance Daryl was one of the children he had come across and molested in his travels. However, to Daryl’s advantage, Tom’s goggles weren’t over his eyes, making him less of a crack shot. Daryl attempted to take off into the darkness when Ronald grabbed hold of his foot, taking him to the ground. Once he was down, Ronald shoved the tip of the rifle against Daryl’s chin, then fired, blowing off part of his skull and brains.

  By the time Tom got his binoculars down and in place, Ronald had him dead in his sights. Even so, Tom was an old-timer, meaning he had more than a few tricks up his sleeve. He clicked on the flashlight strapped to his jacket, shining directly into Ronald’s eyes.

  “Shit.” Ronald threw his hand up, shielding the light from blinding him.

  The diversion gave the old man the time he needed to make his escape. “Maybe next time.” Tom waved his white flag in retreat as he disappeared into the darkness.

  Ronald knew where to find him, so he allowed him to slip away. He then focused on getting Daryl and Joey’s bodies underground just in case Tom decided to call the cops. Plus, he still had to grab the wood from out back, then gut the fish. He would take care of the rest once Gertrude was fast asleep.

  The moment Ronald crossed the threshold, Gertrude rushed into his arms. “Did you hear all that shooting?” she asked nervously.

  “I did. Hopefully, somebody got a nice buck,” Ronald answered, affirming her inquiry with a nonchalant nod of his head.

  Two murders and not a spec of blood on him. Gertrude rubbed at his chest as he had finally returned home with their catch.

  She nestled closer to him. “I’ve missed you.”

  Ronald dropped the chopped wood to the floor alongside him, pulling her in to allow the embrace. “Are you ready for me to light your fire?” he smiled, brandishing a sly grin.

  Gertrude could tell he was merely setting the tone. “Indeed, I am, Mr. Doolally.” She lifted to her tiptoes to kiss his strawberry-freckled lips, figuring she would usher things along.

  That night, they made love on the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace as the gray wolves feasted on scattered, fragmented pieces of Daryl’s skull.

  Chapter 46

  Freed from Afar

  Early the next morning, the authorities were kicking down the door at Daryl’s house. The anonymous call complained about gunshots fired inside the residence, which warranted a squad of police vehicles to the scene. Barnes and Alanis hung back while they allowed the tactical team to gain access. After kicking the door down, a mess of officers dressed in riot gear rushed inside the nearly empty abode.

  Outside, Alanis griped that it was probably a false alarm and how their man-hours should be used for more constructive things. She argued they should have been working on the Columbus case.

  Barnes looked up, searching his mind to find a rebuttal, which instantly came once he saw her walk out the front door of that house. It was Brenda. The lone survivor of Daryl’s victims. The terrified woman quivered as if she were a cowering child, having been bound, gagged, kidnapped, then held against her will for hours. Barnes pointed, alerting Alanis to the emerging victim.

  Brenda closed her eyes and thanked God once she saw the light of day. She held tight to the officer’s hand, who helped to steady her as she stepped out onto the porch, tears pouring down her cheeks. She couldn’t help but wonder if her cousin had suffered the same fate and not lived to tell the story. Brenda had overheard Daryl and Joey discussing the “sale” before dropping her off at the house. Ever since then, she had agonized about the torture and sexual abuse she would endure.

  But luckily, Brenda was alive. She opened her lids, praising the Lord that she’d been spared, that she’d been given another chance to live a life worth living. Never again would she ever take anything for granted, her life, most importantly.

  “Let’s allow one of the paramedics to check her out before we take her to the station,” Detective Barnes ordered as he approached with a blanket intended for wrapping over Brenda’s shoulders.

  Once they got her down to the station, Detective Barnes allowed Alanis to head up the questioning since Brenda was a woman who had recently been afflicted and preyed upon by men.

  “Sweetheart, my name is Detective Alanis. I’m here to figure out who did this to you. Unless you already know who it was, that is. Do you have any idea who grabbed you?”

  “I don’t know where to start,” Brenda admitted, shaking her head in despair.

  “How about you start by telling us how you ended up at that house?”

  A moment of silence passed, Brenda still silent, in tears.

  Detective Alanis placed a hand atop hers, resting on the table between them. “It’s okay. You’re in a safe place now,” she assured the frightened young woman.

  Sure, there were things Brenda didn’t want them to know. The fact remained she had to tell them something. She needed those men locked up. Brenda cleared her throat, then began her version of the story. “I was holding the phone to my ear with one hand, talking to one of my friends. And with the other hand, I was taking the trash to the front yard. There were two of them. One of them was white. The other one looked just like you and me.” She looked up at Detective Barnes, her face oozing with utter disappointment.

  Barnes couldn’t pretend her confession didn’t bother him. He could see how much it hurt her to be treated the way she had by someone who shared the same skin color she did, someone who had shared the same struggle.

  Barnes mashed his lips together, having no answer for her silent plea.

  “The Black guy grabbed me first. I tried my best to fight him off. I even hit him with my phone on the head a few times. It had to have hurt him a little, at least. Anyway, that’s the last thing I remember before waking up tied and gagged on the basement floor of that hellhole.”

  “Would you happen to know who these men are?” Detective Alanis chimed in.

  Brenda didn’t want to tell them about her cousin Tiffany for fear of them connecting her to the mall disturbance. She also didn’t want them to know that Gertrude, Ronald, and she had driven over to the house to confront them. She had to tread a very thin line.

  “I know one of them from school. His name is Joey. We attend Wayne State University downtown.”

  Detective Alanis turned to her partner. “That’s how they must have picked her out. We need to cross-reference any missing women with Wayne State University students. If these guys have been picking off girls from the school, we’re damn sure about to find out.”

  Chapter 47

  The Cleanup

  Between last night and that morning, Ronald had completed the task of getting rid of Joey and Daryl’s bodies. The hogs would ensure not a spec of them remained. As far as their van went, Ronald made sure to park it where no one would ever find it. Even if they had, it was unrecognizable. That was one of the benefits of living in Northern Michigan. You could burn practically anything that wasn’t a house, and no one would bat an eyelash.

  All that morning, Gertrude worried about Brenda. Where was she, and what had happened to her? It’s true; she was having the time of her life with Ronald. It was as if they were a married couple the way they had carried on for the last twenty-four hours. Even still, she wondered what fate her friend suffered.

  Ronald could see something was amiss when he walked back inside from tying up some loose ends. She hadn’t turned to him with a smile, showcasing those irresistible dimples. Gertrude had no cute little words or phrases to woo him. Her mind had wandered
elsewhere, and Ronald could tell whatever was bothering her would not be a subject easily cast off. He was doubtful the dishes could have been so enjoyable that Gertrude couldn’t bother to turn to greet him as he returned. He had to get to the bottom of the situation, and sooner rather than later. He needed to know Gertrude was with him, that she wanted what they had created as much as he did.

  “Come here, sweetheart.” He grabbed her by the hand, leading her from the sink filled with pots and pans to the worn plaid sofa in the living room.

  Gertrude followed him in silence, then took a seat where Ronald had instructed.

  “Why are you pouting? Tell me what’s wrong. Did I do something?”

  “Not at all. You’re perfect, actually. It makes me feel kind of guilty, being here with you, having the time of my dreams while my friend and her sister are missing. I just can’t help feeling like there is something more I should be doing other than running scared.” Gertrude dropped her head, fearing she had disappointed Ronald.

  “Well, Gertrude, if that’s the way you feel, you should do something about it.”

  “What are you saying?” she looked up in hopes he truly understood.

  Ronald cut right to the chase. “Would you like for me to take you home?”

  “Can I stay with you?” Gertrude’s brows wrinkled as if she assumed she was asking too much.

  Ronald quickly set the record straight. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Gertrude let out a huge sigh of relief, having no idea that on the inside, Ronald was doing the very same thing. He had business to attend to, and Tom was at the top of his list of priorities. Ronald needed to get back and hash things out between them. In other words, kill the old man and ditch any evidence that would prove he had even been murdered.

  “How about we have breakfast? I’ll tidy up the grounds around here, and then we’ll head back to the city. I can have you home by three o’clock.”