“You might.” Alter reached out a hand, almost reluctantly, to steady Will. “After you talk to the victim.”
“No, sir.” Will waved away his assistance. “If I have any sway with her at all, I’m going to encourage her to tell you everything she knows.”
“You’ll have sway.” Alter stood close, deliberately crowding Will. “When we were in there earlier, she was asking for you. Asking to see the man who saved her. Referred to you as Superman.”
Will was discomfited more by the moniker than by the detective’s wry tone. He hadn’t known if Sue would even remember his intervention on her behalf, given the circumstances. “I’m no hero,” he said. “It was chance that got me there in time, that’s all. Timing’s everything in life, don’t you think, Alter?”
“Lucky for you.” Alter backed away a step. “But one misstep and you could’ve been another corpse for us to clean up. You should have left it to the professionals.”
“I really got on your bad side, didn’t I?”
“I don’t like cowboys.”
Before Will could respond, Nolan signaled them from the doorway. “We can see her now.”
Will gave Alter an indifferent shrug before walking away, wishing he could swagger. The best he could do with his sore leg was shuffle.
Sue’s eyes were closed when Will entered her room; the detectives hung back, giving him at least the illusion of privacy. Her eyes opened and she cringed away from him in an instinctive gesture of self-preservation before realizing she was safe.
“Hi,” Will said softly. “Remember me?”
“Yes. You’re Superman. I wanted to talk to you, wanted to say thank you.”
“Well, it was nothing really. I just happened to be in the neighborhood,” Will joked mildly, and was rewarded with a drawn smile. “How are you feeling?” His heart ached at the sight of her split lip, bandaged nose, and all the other visible wounds.
“Sore. But the nurse said I’m due for another pain shot soon.”
Will thought she had fallen asleep, but then heard her whisper. He leaned closer. “What?”
“How? How did you really happen to be there? You’re not a cop. Who are you?”
Will slapped his forehead in mock disbelief. “That’s right. We haven’t been properly introduced. My name is Will Falstaff. I’m a private investigator, hired by your parents to find you.”
“They wanted to find me?”
“In the worst way. In fact, they’re on their way here, right now.”
Sue covered her mouth as tears ran down her cheeks. Reaching out she took his hand and held it tightly. “I can’t see them.” Her tone was urgent.
“Why not? They’ve been so worried about you.”
“I’ve done things,” she whispered. “Things I’m so ashamed of.”
Will sighed. “Honey, I’m sure your parents can handle it. They’re so damn relieved that you’re safe, that’s all they can think about. I mean it, Susan; you don’t need to worry about that stuff right now. We all make mistakes. Every human being walking this earth has screwed up at one time or the other.”
“Not like I have.” She released Will’s hand as tears washed her cheeks. “What about Zeke? Where is he?”
Will shook his head. “We don’t know. He got away. But, I’m fairly certain he didn’t hang around. He’s bound to be long gone by now. Still, to be on the safe side, the police have an officer guarding your door. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Thank God for that.” Sue leaned back and turned bruised eyes toward the ceiling. “Oh lord! How could I have been so stupid?”
“Young lady, you were played by a master. A con man, an out-and-out sociopath. Guys like Zeke are experts at manipulating people.”
“It’s worse than that. He’s a murderer. He’s killed people.”
“I know. And the police know it, too.”
At mention of the police, Sue again evidenced agitation. “I don’t want to talk to the police. I’m so afraid they’ll arrest me. Zeke said I’ll go to jail.”
“For what?” Will kept his voice soft, unthreatening, but he heard the detectives’ subtle movements in the background.
“Helping him. Helping him find a woman to kill. I didn’t want to do it; he made me. It was awful. The screams...” She pressed her fingers to her temples, as if the woman’s cries still resounded in her head.
“Susan, calm down now and listen to me. Do you understand what coercion means?”
“Yes.”
He had her attention now. “You were a victim, too. The police know that. They’ll be in here soon. They want to talk to you again, and this time you need to tell them everything you can remember. Even the embarrassing parts. Even the bad parts.”
“I’ll go to jail.” She moaned a little.
“I can’t make any promises, but I don’t think that will happen.”
She tried to sit up and a look of pain etched her face. She abandoned the effort. “Do you know everything that happened?”
“I know a lot of it, probably not all. But remember this: Zeke is a liar, a very accomplished liar. Susan, talk to the police. Take your chances with them. Believe me, it’s Zeke they want, not you.” Will prayed he was right about that.
“Alright, I’ll talk to them. I promise.” The sheets rustled as she shifted slightly. “Mr. Falstaff?”
“Yes?”
“I’m glad you were there.”
“Me too.” Will felt his throat tighten. Exhaustion was making him emotional. “Now I think you should get some sleep. Your folks are on their way, and the police are probably going to bother you a lot before it’s all said and done. You better grab your rest when you can. We can talk more later on, okay?”
“Okay.” Her eyes were heavy, and she drifted off before Will tiptoed from the room, giving the detectives a pointed stare on his way out. They took the hint and followed him into the hallway.
“Can you at least let her rest for awhile before you start your interrogation?” He kept his voice pleasant and focused his attention on Lemond Nolan, ignoring Alter for the time being.
Nolan shook his head. “I wish we could. The sooner we get information on this Zeke character, the sooner we can put together a plan to catch the bastard. But, don’t worry; we’ll be easy on her. Hell, we both have daughters about her age and it makes us sick to think of what she’s gone through.” Patting Will on the back, Nolan entered Sue’s room, with Detective Alter at his heels.
The cafeteria was busy, and Will had to wait in line to get his food. The meal was reasonably good, and he ate slowly, relishing the calm aftermath of what had seemed like a long, arduous ordeal.
In a motel room later, he spent nearly an hour on the phone with Roxie. They went over the particulars of the case. “I’ve tracked a lot of missing people, but never a serial killer. Let me tell you, it’s harrowing.”
“Bet you’re wiped out.”
“Feel like somebody beat me with a stick and then ran me over with a truck.”
“Thank God it’s over.”
A pregnant pause followed before Will spoke again, “But the bastard got away.”
“Will, you stop that right now,” Roxie commanded. “I won’t have you tormenting yourself. You had to let him go. If you’d gone after him, Sue could’ve died. You made the only decision you could.” Roxie’s voice softened. “You did the right thing, Will.”
“I know that, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He shifted the conversation to a lighter tone. “By the way, tell Melvin I’m giving him a bonus.”
“He’ll be thrilled.” Roxie said with unconcealed sarcasm as she grinned into the phone. Will’s bonuses were generally rather small. Changing subjects, she asked “How’s Susan holding up?”
“She’s shaky. I don’t even know the whole story yet, but I can tell you already that girl is going to need some serious counseling. On top of everything else he put her through, he royally screwed with her head. She’s fragile.”
“No d
oubt.”
“But she’s alive, she’s young, and she has the loving support of her parents. She can recover from this and put her life back together.”
They spoke a bit longer about their other cases, and then hung up.
Will swallowed a couple of pain pills and fell into bed. This would be his first good night’s sleep since he’d accepted this assignment. The next day, he planned to visit Sue one more time, talk to her parents, and then hit the road for home.
Epilogue
Nineteen-year-old Darcy Willingham slid into a chair at the public library in Webster, Nevada. Ever alert for a potential boyfriend, she couldn’t fail to notice the sexy guy at the next table, his blond head bent over a thin book. She averted her eyes but raised them again, unable to stop staring at the attractive stranger. She had never seen a more gorgeous male, outside of movies and magazines. The small jagged scar on his cheek took nothing away from his looks; in fact, it added appeal, a sort of exotic intrigue.
He lifted vibrant blue eyes to hers and she felt an electric shock of attraction.
“Hi,” he said quietly.
“Hi,” she replied, thrilled he’d taken notice of her.
“Sorry to bother you, but would you happen to have a pen I could borrow?” His voice was well modulated, hypnotic, and sensuous.
“Sure.” She eagerly dug in her purse, walked over, and handed him an ink pen with an insurance company’s advertisement on it. “Will this work?”
“It’s all good,” he said. “Thanks.” Their hands touched briefly as he took the ballpoint, sending a small thrill racing over her. She glanced down at the book he was reading.
“So, you like poetry?” she asked, cursing herself internally for sounding so lame. But, his answer set her at ease.
“I do,” he said. “In fact, I write poetry myself. Of course, I’m not published yet. You know how it is for the starving artist; I’m keeping my day job for now. How about you? Do you write?”
“Oh, all the time,” she gushed. In fact, her notebook was full of rambling juvenile love poems and starry-eyed prose.
“I’d like to see your stuff sometime.” His gaze traveled down her body, warming her.
“Okay. I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.” She giggled when she realized how that had come out.
“Well, we’ll have to arrange something.” His smile was dazzling. “By the way, I’m Ian.”
Notes of Interest
Cover photo for Zeke by artjazz (©Depositphotos/artjazz)
Special thanks to authors Douglas Wickard, Kathleen Patel, and Michael K. Rose for taking the time to read and review Zeke.
Setting:
The authors took artistic liberty with the locations, geography, and highways in this novel. Most of the towns and all of the roads mentioned are fictional.
Coming soon:
Tangerine by Wodke Hawkinson. Set in a future time when aliens are a natural part of everyday life and travel to distant planets is commonplace.
Available now:
Betrayed by Wodke Hawkinson
Betrayed - Alternate Ending by Wodke Hawkinson
Catch Her in the Rye, Selected Short Stories Volume One by Wodke Hawkinson.
Blue, Selected Short Stories Volume Two by Wodke Hawkinson.
Alone, Selected Short Stories, Volume Three by Wodke Hawkinson.
Ghost Writer, a short story by Wodke Hawkinson.
Half Bitten by PJ Hawkinson. A tale of vampire revenge.
James Willis Makes a Million by K Wodke. A book for young readers about a boy who refuses to stay poor.
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Chapter 1
As they entered their six-car garage, Brook reached for the keys to the Cayenne Turbo S. With its 520 horsepower, it was capable of handling even the most extreme conditions and Clark always insisted Brook drive it in the winter. Now, however, Clark placed his hand over hers to stop her from taking the keys.
“Why don’t you drive the Ferrari? This might be the last day of the year you’ll be able to take it out.” He smiled and kissed her cheek as he grabbed the keys to his Spyker D8. He tossed his briefcase through the backward-opening rear door, slipped into the driver’s seat, and pressed the garage door opener. Blowing Brook a kiss, he exited into the late autumn morning.
Brook took the keys to the Spider, slid into the luxurious interior, entered the address of her destination into the GPS unit, and backed out of the garage. Moving into the street, she glided past million dollar mansions that sat on two to three acres of well-manicured land. She exited the gated community, nodding to Jerry in the guardhouse. Jerry waved and smiled. Brook saw him bend to record the time she left and what vehicle she was driving. Security at Pinion Plateau was state-of-the-art. No one entered or left without their presence being noted.
The brisk air held the threat of impending snow as Brook made her way through town. They’d had a couple of small snowfalls already, but for now the roads were clear and the Spider moved in and out of traffic like a red blip on a radar screen. Clark was right, the day was beautiful, and Brook basked in the bright morning sunlight that slanted through the windshield as she went about her errands.
She knew it wouldn’t be long before the first big snow hit and then driving would become a chore, if the town didn’t shut down completely. Forecasts were calling for a real whopper.
At the GPS unit’s prompt, she signaled for a right turn and zipped down an unfamiliar byway. The Ferrari was as responsive as a lover under her hands.
Soon, Brook had left the city-major behind. She didn’t care for the looks of the area she was now entering. She tapped her manicured nails nervously on the steering wheel as she sat at a stoplight. A group of young men loitering on the corner noted her discomfort and watched with amused looks on their faces. She pulled away quickly as the light turned green.
She’d decided to get this chore out of the way before running her other errands, after which, she would grab some lunch at Maurice’s. Then, she could go home, tend to daily household chores, relax in the hot tub, and shower before Clark returned home from work. Maybe she would have Rachel whip up something special for dinner. She could use some intimacy. Clark had been working long hours lately and they’d had little time together. As she drove, she reflected on the lack of companionship she had recently been feeling in her marriage. She missed the closeness that had filled their lives before…well, before the tragedy that had changed everything. She shook her head, pushing away painful memories and focused instead on the reason for this particular errand.
That morning at breakfast, completely out of character, Clark had asked her to do him a favor. He wanted her to go to a bookstore on the south side of town. He said he had done some research and this was the only shop he could locate that carried a copy of a rare book his boss had mentioned. Clark wanted to surprise Harold with the book on his upcoming birthday. He had stressed several times that this was the only store in the state with a copy and he didn’t want to miss the opportunity to make the purchase. The book was being held under his name. She had watched him as he finished eating, took a final sip of coffee, and then began stuffing papers into his briefcase. He had seemed nervous, fidgety, but she couldn’t imagine why. Their usual morning conversation had been stilted and they had parted in the garage shortly after.
Brook assumed Clark hadn’t sent his assistant on this errand for fear Harold would hear about the book and the surprise would be ruined. Anxiety rose within her as she found herself amid abandoned stores intermingled with porn, tattoo, and head shops. Splashes of graffiti scarred the forsaken building
s. In a weed-choked lot, two groups of rough-looking youths sat atop parked cars and hollered lazy insults back and forth. Further ahead, posturing gang bangers strutted their colors, advertising their menace. A ragged homeless woman shuffled through the garbage-strewn streets.
Adding to Brook’s discomfort, her shiny red car was drawing unwanted attention from watchers with desire written on their faces. With each passing block, her surroundings became more sinister. Low-riders cruised up and down the street, and men with low-hanging pants stood in small groups volleying banter and invective between them. They all stared at her car, some blatantly, others from beneath downcast eyes.
Brook peeked at the GPS display and checked it against the paper on which Clark had scribbled the address of the bookstore. She appeared to be in the right location. She scanned the names on the buildings and found Bill’s Bawdy Book Barn stuck between Fanny’s Massage Parlor and The Dragon’s Den tattoo shop. As she stared aghast, the GPS informed her she had reached her destination. Brook frowned, muttering in disbelief. This is the place? Oh, lord! To her right was a narrow parking lot, the cracked asphalt strewn with wind-blown debris. She pulled in and guided the car into an empty space.
She hesitated before stepping from the vehicle. Her eyes darted nervously from side to side and then to the rearview mirror. Why would Clark send her here? He couldn’t possibly have realized how bad this part of town was, or he surely would have taken care of this himself. Although Brook wasn’t easily intimidated, she also wasn’t usually exposed to this sort of living or the vibes of danger that radiated from the men on the street.
Brook gathered her courage and stepped from the car. She felt exposed and vulnerable. Holding her Bottega Veneta handbag close to her midriff, she walked briskly from the lot to the sidewalk. Turning the corner, she took perhaps half a dozen steps before she was accosted by a young man.
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