Stroke of Innocence! (Denny Ryder Paranormal Crime Series Book 4)

by Deborah Bowman

  He’d think about that later when he and Dog were in the cabin, warm and secure. Right now, he was searching the trees for something he knew was there, if only he could find it.

  The snow had started up again, a pure white-out blizzard. He might not be able to unload the truck at all today, but he had wood and food in the cabin.

  ‡ ‡ ‡

  Chapter Ten

  Dr. Irma of the The Tessa Group had been working on the remote viewing project since she was a young woman in war-torn Nazi Germany. Her name had been Irma Schultz at the time, and she was Jewish. She’d watched her whole family be annihilated by The Third Reich.

  Irma would have joined her family in death had it not been for Dr. Tessa (not his real name), a Jewish Psychiatrist who’d pretended to assist the Nazi’s, using alpha, theta, and delta brain waves for precognition and remote, real-time cognitive viewing of people, places, and future events.

  Dr. Tessa had deliberately led Hitler’s soldiers to the wrong place at the wrong time; thus assuring the Allied Victory over Germany.

  Irma had been a test subject with incredible faith, recall, and prophetic dreams and visions even before she’d started working with her mentor. It had been a natural spiritual belief system, based on the prophecies of The Old Testament. This was what helped her to survive when so many had died. She believed God had a plan for her.

  Mrs. Irma Schultz Tessa, who came to the United States after the war as Dr. Tessa’s bride, had strength and absolute oneness with spirituality by whatever name it was called. She knew all faiths and goodness were one. The genocide of her ancestral heritage was not based on their belief system, primarily Judaism. She saw not-practicing non-believers perish as quickly as the faithful. The cruelty had been based on public perception and political bias rather than culture.

  This information was shared with Sophia and Kirk Alexander. The 90-year-old spry, happy woman, who dealt with arthritis everyday of her life with strength, courage, and faith, knew she had to keep walking and exercising (swimming was her choice) to hold the pain and stiffness at bay. Her empathy, compassion, and enthusiasm was a palpable energy in the room. Yes, she wanted to meet Clarissa.

  The child would be the youngest prophet she’d even known or studied, all the way back to the beginning of time. Dr. Irma called her, “a little angel from heaven.”

  Dr. Irma would talk to the child of this nice couple, Kirk and Sophia Alexander, if they agreed to the questions the older woman would ask.

  Kirk was blown away by the MRI scans for both their daughter and Mrs. Denise Ryder. “How does something like this happen?” he queried.

  “We don’t know,” Dr. Sarah Covington had replied. “It’s very rare, and as a Neurological Researcher I’m always looking for answers. Some things are unexplainable. I believe Science will catch up with faith at some point, justifying the two in completeness. Dr. Irma believes solely on faith, and she is an inspiration to us all.”

  The MRI images were what swayed the couple. They was tangible and solid, and they could not refute their existence. It was frightening and fascinating, but the couple realized their daughter was going to continue to have these dreams whether they approved or not. These dedicated doctors could help Clarissa.

  Trust, however, takes time to be established. Kirk agreed to allow Dr. Irma to talk to Clarissa if Detective Ted Collins and Mrs. Denise Ryder were also present. They had saved his daughter’s life. He knew that he and Sophia could not be a part of this … yet.

  Sophia had trouble relinquishing control, but finally she agreed as well to let Dr. Irma talk to Clarissa without her and Kirk in the room. Mrs. Alexander knew she couldn’t watch this energy or spirit flow through her daughter, but Sophia wasn’t afraid after she’d heard Irma’s life story. Sophia and Kirk had strong faith too, which they had instilled in their precious, precocious child.

  They were a Roman Catholic family. Charismatic Catholicism had similar beliefs of the spirit. If this was Clarissa’s calling, so be it. Anything was preferable to the silence that had ruled their baby’s life right after Clarissa had been found. She had finally spoken for the first time when she saw the familiar “red-haired lady,” Denny Ryder.

  This was a support system that they all desperately needed: Kirk and Sophia; Denny and her friend, RN Kari Logan; Detective Collins; and most of all, Clarissa. How else could the young child deal with the torture, death, and mental illness she had been exposed to by Benjamin Russo?

  Ted took Denny’s hand and squeezed it tightly. He told her this was the right thing to do.

  She agreed, but there was something still bothering her. Ted knew Denny needed to talk to the doctor as well. He hoped she would let him be with her.

  This morning the detective hadn’t been sure he had anything to live for, now he knew why God had spared his life. He hadn’t thought about God in a long, long time.

  ‡ ‡ ‡

  A mere half-an-hour later, Clarissa came bouncing and giggling out of the dining room. It was a beautiful sound to two parents who had almost given up hope of ever seeing or hearing their child again.

  She ran up to her Mommy and Daddy. “The nice old lady, Mrs. Irma, she knows why I dream the things I do!” she said with excitement and joy. “There’s nothing wrong with me … or Denny … but I won’t talk to other kids about it, okay? Not unless they need help. I don’t the bad man to hurt anyone else.”

  “Okay,” Kirk said, swinging his little one up in the air and into a big hug. Sophia came up and hugged her daughter too with a soft, understanding smile and a look of relief.

  “Mama, may I talk to Denny for a few minutes before she leaves?”

  “Alright,” Sophia said, “but where are your manners, young lady. You know her name is Mrs. Ryder.”

  “Oh,” Clarissa said. “She asked me to call her … ah, Denny.”

  Ted and Denny were quietly standing outside in the big front yard. Ted’s arm was lazily wrapped around the little redhead, as if in friendly support.

  The family stepped outside. Dr. Irma and Dr. Sarah Covington pulled out of the driveway for the drive back to Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, where their laboratory was located.

  Clarissa whispered to her mother, “She won’t be Mrs. Ryder for very long anyway. Her mean husband left her to go live with Denny’s best friend, Miss Brookfield. Mommy, Denny needs a BFF, like me. I’d never hurt her like that.”

  Sophia was a little shocked, but then she’d never met Denny’s husband. He hadn’t been at the house in Good Hope when Ted took Clarissa to see Denny the first time. The young woman had been in a wheelchair.

  “Okay, honey, but only this one adult.”

  “What about Ted?” the child laughed.

  “Sophia, I think you’re fighting a losing battle here,” Kirk said.

  Clarissa skipped up to Denny and Ted.

  Denny pulled away from the detective and walked up the sidewalk beside the beautiful little girl with the pink bow in her hair.

  “Ted thinks you look pretty. I can tell,” Clarissa said softly. “The leaves are turning pretty colors, and the sun is shining. It’s pretty outside. Some of the leaves match your hair.”

  “Yeah, Squirt, guess they do. I’m glad you told me to change, though. I haven’t worn a dress and makeup in ages,” Denny said.

  “How come Miss Logan brought your stuff?” the youngster asked.

  “I don’t know. She just always knows the right thing to do,” Denny answered thoughtfully.

  “Denny, something bad is going to happen. But it will be okay. I promise,” Clarissa said.

  “Yeah, I know. I’m worried about Ted,” Denny said as they turned around to walk back.

  “Just remember, pretty red-haired lady, it will be okay.”

  Denny actually smiled for the first time since she’d been jolted awake by the dream. That was over sixteen hours ago. She needed to sleep.

  “Dinner, anyone? I’m buying Chinese delivery,” Kirk called.

  Ted and Kari
looked at Denny. “Yeah, sure, why not?” She could sleep later.

  ‡ ‡ ‡

  Chapter Eleven

  Benny was freaking out from all the complications in this endeavor that should never have happened. Dog hadn’t found the intruders that Benny was sure were hiding in the forest.

  “Of course there’d been no tracks in the snow this morning. They’d been covered up by the flakes that had piled up all dern night!” Benny screamed in a fit of rage. The snow was in full bloom today too. He could barely see in front of him, and it was only October.

  Dog had stuck his tail behind his legs and hidden in the bushes, not daring to come in the warm cabin. Benny hoped the stupid, lazy animal froze to death.

  He’d tried to maneuver the small, old generator off the truck to create electricity for the pulley system to setup his computers, printers, scanners, and speakers. So far, the frigid air had prevented Russo from achieving any results. Everything was so cold on the truck, and it froze immediately when he attempted to remove it from the trailer. He finally gave up.

  “What’sa going on?” he bellowed with a curse. He’d grown up just outside Denver, the mile-high city. He was used to cold wind blowing across the mountains. It was fall, not winter for crying-out-loud. Why was the snow so heavy and the night so cold?

  It had even been difficult to find water the first day. Benny ended up boiling snow in a pot over the firewood he’d gathered up when they’d arrived. If it kept snowing like this, there’d be no more dry wood. What would he do if he couldn’t get the generators hooked up?

  He was angry, a little scared, and his mental condition had never been more aggravated. He tried to keep his thoughts straight, but he’d panic over the least little thing and lose control. He was kicking and throwing stuff around the truck. It was so cold in there, and he’d been out all day. Everything was stuck solid or slicked over with ice.

  “Guess it’s been my own bloody fault,” Russo griped. “I musta’ left the door open on the trailer while I was wrastlin’ with those two skinny boys, tryin’ to get ‘em settled.”

  He felt good that he had one head worth keepin’. He’d slipped it out of the cooler and into one of the sealed freezers. He’d shouted out to the other kids to expect to meet the bilingual boy, but then he got mad that he couldn’t introduce his favorites to the kid from Texas ‘cause he couldn’t get to the other freezers.

  The truck was just too crowded. He’d never had to move his whole operation before. He’d always had Evergreen tucked away as a stationary unit. Everything worked like a charm whether he was there or not, and nobody bothered nothin’ in the hills.

  Good people lived on the farms around Evergreen, Colorado. They kept to themselves and minded their own business. That’s how Ben liked it. Now his world, usually so orderly, was falling apart. His harsh scream of madness echoed through the high, frozen terrain.

  ‡ ‡ ‡

  Benny had been working outside far too long and thought he needed to be concerned about frostbite. He had achieved only minimal results with far more failures than successes. He hadn’t been able to get the small generator running at all. If he kept going backward instead of forward, he and Dog were gonna’ die out here in the wilderness. Who was gonna’ take care of his kids if that happened? No one knew the experiment or the process except him.

  Benny knew he was losing blocks of time. He’d done this all his life, but he’d always thought he could control the blackouts. Maybe this time they were controlling him. His rants and rages would pull him out of the fugue state at times. The screechin’ and hollerin’ and loud crashes of throwing equipment against the sides of the trailer would temporarily capture his attention, but only for a few minutes.

  He was so cold, and it was starting to get dark. The whole day had evaporated into a white, snowy haze. He couldn’t remember what he’d done or even why he’d done it. Nothing made sense.

  When he stumbled down the incline to reach the small cabin and pushed open the door, he’d been looking forward to a cheery fire. The single-room hovel was dark and cold as a tomb. The fire had gone out, and it was just as friggin’ cold in here as it was outside. Dark or not, he had to get out of the biting wind.

  He slammed the door shut, stopping and tilting his head to listen. Was there someone hiding in here waiting for him? There was nothin’ but eerie, cold silence. Where was Dog? Didn’t he have another kid in here? Yeah, the Mexican. Where were they?

  He fumbled around for a flashlight. “At least sumthin’ works,” he groused as he slid the frozen on/off switch forward. Shining the little bits of light here and there, up and down, everywhere, he saw freezer bags filled with his kids’s heads all over the floor, on the crude furniture, some of ‘em stomped to pieces. When had he done all this damage, or had someone else gone and done it?

  He didn’t remember any of this! The Mexican boy was headless. Looked like someone had twisted his little head clean off. He panicked and started screaming when he couldn’t find the boy’s small cranium.

  “Dog,” he shouted. “Come!”

  All he could hear was the wind, snow, and ice smashing against the log framework of the pathetic structure.

  Stumbling over to the stone fireplace, he rummaged around for matches, but there wasn’t any wood left in the hearth. It had all burned to ashes.

  He grabbed the boy’s body, stuffed it in a box he almost tripped over, and finally found some wood that would burn, but not right away. How much time did he have before he froze to death?

  He found some papers and lit them, not even looking to see what they were. He collected newspaper stories about his achievements to read to his kids. He’d been doing that for decades.

  It finally registered that Dog was scratching at the door. That’s right, he’d left the useless animal outside. He opened the door and let him in. He knew he had to get Dog and himself out’a’here first thing in the morning.

  He kept feeding the fire with papers until the frozen wood caught. It seemed like it took hours.

  Benny knew he needed to talk to his favorite kids. That was about the only thing that could calm and relax him. He was pretty sure he’d thrown those heads around himself. It had happened before, and he never remembered doing it.

  “Well, friends, it’s cold enough in here so we don’t haf’ta worry ‘bout you’ins thawing out.”

  That was the only positive thing he could think of to tell his buddies.

  ‡ ‡ ‡

  Chapter Twelve

  Ted had been on the speaker phone with Sheriff Reamy for two days. They were going over cold cases, trying to piece together answers now that they knew more about Russo’s erratic habits. It was like searching for tiny bits of saneness in a crazed, irrational mind.

  “How’s your Mom?” Ted asked at a lull between case files.

  “Doin’ okay, considering.”

  “Considering what?” Ted said hoping he didn’t sound invasive, but he really liked Mrs. Claire Reamy.

  “Haven’t you heard about the freaky weather patterns? It made the national news. We’ve had early blizzards this year that no one was ready for, especially Mom. Got her arthritis all riled up,” the Sherriff said sadly.

  “We can’t even get up in the mountains,” Reamy continued. “Roads’ve been closed for a couple of days now. Ma ain’t goin’ out, o’course, but it’s really put a damper on our tourist trade for fall. She’s closed the motel. Best thing she coulda’ done. She’s too old to be doing that anyway,” her son complained.

  “Ah, Colt, she needs that interaction with people. She’s like the town’s welcoming committee. She knows everything about everything,” Ted answered. “She sure is a firecracker.”

  “We don’t get that much business at the motel, ya’ know, but it’s come to a dead stop this week. Some big rig got stuck up in the hills. Finally, got ‘em out. Ya’ know what the driver said? Said he was goin’ to the post office to mail a rush package. In this weather?” Reamy laughed at the ridiculousness o
f the situation.

  “Must have been a pretty important package,” Ted answered, not knowing what else to say.

  “I guess; who knows?” the sixty-something, portly Sherriff answered. “It was some kind of white Styrofoam container, like frozen foods come in? No chance of it thawing out there now.”

  Ted was picturing his thin, attractive mother. She’d looked amazing sitting behind the desk at the motel office. Her face glowed with friendliness. You’d never have thought she was in her eighties until she stood up to walk and had to clutch a cane in her left hand. She’d just as quickly pick it up and hit ya’ with it, though, if she ever felt threatened. Ted had been impressed with the elderly woman. At first, he’d thought she was Colton’s wife. That really got a chuckle out of Claire Reamy.

  “Tap, tap, tap,” came from the old wooden door to Ted’s office.

  “Hold on, Colton,” Ted said, turning away from the speaker phone. He’d been pacing the floor, getting some exercise to strengthen his surgically repaired heart while he listened to Reamy read the files on missing children.

  “Package for you, Detective Collins,” Smithson said, scooting into the office to put it on his desk.

  “Thanks,” Ted replied, closing the door.

  He glanced down to read the label:

  Clarissa Alexander

  % Detective Theodore Collins

  Dayton, Ohio, Downtown Precinct xxxxx

  Postmarked: Evergreen, Colorado

  Rush Delivery

  Time stamped about 24 hours ago

  Colton started to read the next file…

  “Colt,” Ted interrupted, his heart pounding. He eased down into his chair. “Did you send me some case files?”

  “Ah, no, Ted. Why?”

  “The Styrofoam box you mentioned?”

  “Ya’ mean, the one from the idiot in the big rig?”

  Ted had started to touch the package and then halted with his hands in mid-air. “It was just delivered to my office … on my desk…” His voice trailed off into thin air.