From The Shadows (Blaze series Book 1)

by David Carter

  Poochie’s screams simmered down to barely audible groans as his life literally drained away. Blaze dragged his mutilated body backwards by his legs, until his face dangled helplessly over the toilet bowl. Blaze put both his hands in Poochie’s mouth, jarring it wide open, until he had the rim of the toilet bowl firmly wedged between his teeth. “Any last words?” he said with a smirk.

  Poochie was barely conscious, but in the last excruciating moments of his life, he knew exactly how it was all going to end. Blaze raised his right knee, and released all his anger by stomping on the back of his head, ruthlessly crushing the remaining breaths of life from his body. The sound of cracking bones and rattling teeth against the metallic toilet bowl was sickening. They scattered across the floor, and the prisoner in the adjacent cell heard tiny splashes of water as they fell into the blood red puddle beneath his shattered jaws. Blaze spat on him one last time, fully satisfied. “Eat shit and die, kiddie fucker,” he sneered, before he collapsed to the floor, exhausted.

  Chapter 30

  Duncan Walters stepped out of his black 4x4 ute, disguised under the darkness of the cloudy night sky. He left it unlocked, and stealthily walked towards the front door to the Glendale Christian Church. Damn kids, always throwing stones out of the gardens, he thought as his black dress shoes crunched over the tiny pebbles that littered the car park.

  His hands trembled as he reached the door and extracted a set of keys from his trouser pocket, being careful not to let them jingle, and let himself inside. He surveyed the church foyer as he listened for any signs of life, hearing nothing but eerie silence.

  Duncan was in his late forties, and was dressed in his favourite black suit that he always wore on his trips to Milton City.

  He had two passions in life. The first was to serve God in whatever way possible. He was head deacon of the Glendale Christian Church, which filled him with immense pride, and gave him a real sense of purpose every Sunday. His second passion, which sat oddly with his first, was gambling. It had cost him his twenty-year marriage, his two teenage daughters, who wanted nothing more to do with him, and his house, along with any dignity he had left. His gambling addiction had spiralled out of control to the point where his wife and kids had packed their bags and left, in the hope that it would finally strike a chord in his brain, and make him realise he had a serious problem.

  Initially, when they left him, he did okay, until he made an all or nothing bet on a sure thing. The horse rounded the final turn in first place, but was run down on the final dash to the line. After the crushing result, all he owned was the clothes on his back. Out of desperation, he reached out to his wife, who reluctantly checked him into a retreat where he could get a grip on the reality of his addiction.

  He spent two years in recovery, and over time, discovered how God could forgive him. He found peace and serenity; the gaping hole in his life was now filled with the eternal love of God. And more importantly, he’d discovered how to live without his addiction.

  After completing his rehab, and with no possibility of getting back together with his wife in Milton City, he’d started a new life in Glendale. He loved living in a town with such a friendly community; it felt like home. After learning the real estate business inside out, he got a job as an agent, and started making a decent living from a good run of sales.

  He was passionate about his service to God, and was elected as head deacon of the Glendale Christian Church. His duties involved opening and closing the church on Sundays, collecting and counting the tithes and offerings, keeping the grounds of the church in immaculate condition, and numerous other jobs that ensured the service ran smoothly each Sunday. Nobody in Glendale knew about his past, so he was entrusted with a set of keys that gave him access to the entire church including the treasury.

  Each Sunday, after the service ended, he counted all the offering money and stored it in the treasury cupboard in Father Meyer’s office until it was collected two days later by the church treasurer. Then the money was sent to the church conference, where all the Catholic denominations around the country sent their tithes and offerings, contributing towards the salaries of all the priests and any other paid positions within the national church body. The money also went towards any missionary work the church was involved in, locally and internationally.

  The treasury had been robbed twice in the past six months, with a total of eight thousand dollars stolen. Although the police had conducted a thorough investigation, the person responsible was still at large.

  Duncan crept down the centre aisle, and slipped through the door at the head of the church that led to the numerous other rooms beyond. He walked down a wide hallway, passing the doors to the Sunday school classrooms, the facilities, and the community hall, until he reached the door to Father Meyer’s office. His heart pounded like a jack hammer as he found and used the correct key to open it, before scurrying across the small room to the other side, where he stood in front of a small solid wood cupboard mounted on the wall. He unlocked it, and he saw the bags of money just sitting there, begging him to take them. Just this one last time, he thought.

  He closed the door to the treasury and locked the office door behind him. He scurried back down the hallway to a small room full of cleaning supplies, and retrieved a crowbar he’d stashed there before church the previous Sunday. He returned to the office door, and used the crowbar to lever it open, obliterating the lock. He then used it to smash a giant hole in the door to the treasury, before retracing his steps and breaking open the front door to the church, covering his tracks.

  He suddenly stopped as he thought he heard a sound. But after a good look around the dark surroundings, he concluded he was just being paranoid. He threw the crowbar in the tray of his 4x4, and jumped in the driver’s seat.

  He was on his way to the Milton City Casino with at least six thousand dollars in cold, hard cash. He savoured the rush of excitement before his big night out on the blackjack tables. He told himself this was definitely the last time.

  The first time he had succumbed to his weakness and stolen from the church, he had got away with it, and life carried on as usual. The second time, he had received a leaflet in his letterbox the very next morning. It had a Bible verse printed on it that read: 1 John 1:9. He’d looked up the reference in his Bible, and immediately rushed to confession, revealing his addiction, and how it had cost him everything he had ever held dear in his life, and pledging that he would never gamble again. He thought it must have been one of the church’s outreach projects that he didn’t know about, as it was common for the church outreach committee to deliver leaflets around the community to advertise upcoming seminars, or to encourage people to study their Bibles by putting some verses together about relevant topics as a study guide. He’d thought it was just a coincidence that it had been delivered the day after he had stolen from the treasury for the second time. It was just a coincidence, he thought, just a coincidence.

  Back at the church, the Watcher had observed his every move from deep within the shadows. He was assessing his handiwork with the crowbar on the office door, extremely disappointed with him.

  His anger grew exponentially the more he thought about how he should have taken care of him the second time he had stolen from the treasury. The only thing that had saved him was the fact he had personally witnessed him go to confession the next day and confess his gambling addiction, earning himself a reprieve.

  The Watcher was in heat. His plan to rid Glendale of its sinners was finally in action, and Duncan was at the top of hit list. It is treason to steal from God, he thought.

  He knew the church had taken up an extra offering during the previous service to help raise funds for an elderly woman battling cancer. It meant there was a much larger sum of money in the treasury than usual; bait for a gambling thief. And after keeping tabs on Duncan ever since the Protectors of the Past had elected him as head deacon, the Watcher had learned of his gambling addiction after trailing him to the Milton City Casino on more than
one occasion. He had an idea that Duncan might attempt to steal the extra-large sum of money from the treasury, and now that he had stolen from God for the third time, his fate was sealed.

  He watched him drive off down the road until the tail lights on his 4x4 were well out of sight, and excitedly said, “One two—three strikes you’re out.”

  Chapter 31

  Ryan and Sharon hadn’t said it in words, but they were in love. They both knew it, and they certainly both felt it. After Ryan had broken every land speed record driving home to Sharon’s apartment, they had rushed up the stairs, and headed straight to her bedroom, giggling like children the whole way. With their hormones racing like wild fire, they tore one another’s clothes off, and vigorously satisfied one another. Once they slowed down, they held each other tight, and gently made love again, before falling asleep in one another’s arms.

  They woke during the night and indulged once more and once again before breakfast in the shower, where they slowly washed each other, curiously exploring every nook and cranny they had missed in their haste the night before. Never before had Sharon felt so confident and comfortable to let her guard down, and allow a man to enjoy her assets so soon after meeting. Ryan was different; he was a gentleman; a truly desirable man.

  She fired up the stove in her small kitchenette, and cooked Ryan a giant serving of bacon and eggs before he set off to meet Hampton down at the station. He gave her one last passionate kiss, long enough to last for the whole day, and thanked her for his breakfast and the most amazing night of his life. She couldn’t stop smiling as she watched him drive off to work, fantasising about love, marriage, and all that follows.

  She was about to go back inside when Elizabeth walked up to her, grinning as she said, “So, Sharon, who’s the gorgeous man I just saw leaving your apartment in his evening attire?”

  Sharon blushed as she said, “Good morning, Liz, I didn’t see you standing there! Come inside, and I’ll tell you everything over coffee.”

  Chapter 32

  The whole town was on edge after the news of Luke Turner’s murder was released by the media on a special mid-morning, nationwide television broadcast. Ryan was the spokesperson for the investigation team. He stood outside on the steps to the Glendale Courthouse as he made a formal statement on air. “My team has made an arrest, but we believe the perpetrator is still at large. One of the victims, Senior Constable Karl O’Brian, is in a stable but delicate condition, and is under twenty-four-hour guard. We hope we can obtain any vital information from him when he is coherent enough to talk. We believe the person responsible for this crime was demonstrating his adverse opinion towards homosexuality. The perpetrator left a crystal-clear message quoting a verse from the Bible where God condemns homosexuals, and that their actions are punishable by death. We presume the crime is most likely motivated by deep-rooted religious beliefs, combined with the warped mind of a psychopath. That is all I can comment on for the moment, but rest assured, we will enforce severe justice on the person or persons responsible for ending the life and distinguished career of Constable Luke Turner. He will be a significant loss to the New Zealand Police Force. Our thoughts are with his family and friends, as well as those of Karl O’Brian as he moves forward with his recovery. In closing, I urge the citizens of Glendale not to panic. This is a unique and premeditated crime with specific factors fuelling the perpetrator’s motive. Please, if you have any information, dial the number shown at the bottom of your television screen immediately. Thank you.”

  Ryan stepped down from the bouquet of microphones as he was thanked by the media personnel, and returned to his makeshift headquarters at the Glendale Police Station.

  Elizabeth had been brought up to speed earlier than the rest of the town this morning when she had her coffee and fry up breakfast with Sharon. She was in shock when Sharon had told her how she’d met Ryan, working a murder case. She had shed a few tears as she thought both O’Brian and Turner were both honest, dependable servants of the law.

  She left The Greasy Axle with sadness in her heart, and got into her car to run an important errand. She had been treasurer of the Glendale Christian Church for the past twenty-one years. She loved being able to serve her church in whatever capacity she could, and this was the one important task she had been entrusted with. Even on a school day, she enjoyed having that little bit of time out to drive to the church, collect the money from the treasury, and take it back to her office to prepare all the necessary paperwork before sending it off to the church conference.

  She drove into the church car park, and was momentarily blinded by the morning sun shining directly in her eyes as she turned off the road. In that fragment of time, she failed to notice the front door to the church was slightly ajar, until she had walked halfway between her red Mini Cooper Convertible and the entrance. “Not again!” she exclaimed. “That’s the third time in the last six months!”

  She walked up to the door, observing the splinters of wood that had fallen to the ground after somebody had wrenched it open, destroying the lock. She walked through the foyer and up to the head of the church, and proceeded out the back towards Father Meyer’s office.

  She wasn’t surprised to see a carbon copy of the scene at the front entrance to the church. She decided to look inside to see exactly what was stolen, though she knew what it would be. She wanted a good look around so she could give all the relevant information to the police, as she had recently been through the process after the last two break-ins.

  She gently kicked the door open, and screamed at the top of her lungs, before keeling over and vomiting out her partially digested breakfast on the carpet.

  Lying on the floor in front of her was the mutilated corpse of a middle-aged male. He was naked, and sprawled out on his back, so anybody who walked in would notice the grotesque deformities inflicted upon him. His left eye had been hacked out, leaving an almost crusted over, blood-filled hole in his face. His left hand had been severed at the wrist, leaving a pool of blood beneath the stump that remained. His left foot succumbed to the same fate, and there was a message hacked into his chest by what Elizabeth assumed was a sharp knife.

  She threw up again as the shock vibrated through her stomach after she saw the three removed body parts dumped in an offering basket, held by his right hand. After a few minutes of shaking, she finally gathered herself together, picked up the phone in the office, and dialled the police station.

  Ryan was sitting at his desk, about to start munching on a chicken sandwich, courtesy of Sharon, when the phone rang. He looked up at Hampton. “I might just let this one ring, mate; I’ve been swamped with bloody reporters all morning.”

  “Don’t you just love the perks of being Batman?” He grinned.

  “Always.”

  “Still, you had better answer it. It could be something important.”

  “Goody Two Shoes.” Ryan grinned, before he picked up the receiver. “Glendale Police Station, Detective Ryan speaking.”

  The light-hearted expression on Hampton’s face vanished as Ryan went deathly quiet, listening with intense concentration. He heard him tell whoever it was on the other end of the line that he would dispatch a team along with himself as soon as he had briefed them on the situation.

  Ryan slammed the receiver down. “Shit!”

  The room fell silent.

  “What is it? Who the hell was that on the phone?” asked Hampton.

  Ryan declined to answer as he marched over to the cell where Jones was held. He unlocked the door and flung it open so hard that it crashed into the bars of the cell wall, causing Jones to jump from the unexpected explosion of noise. Ryan calmed a little after releasing some of his frustration, and said, “You are free to go, Jonesy, with my sincerest apologies for the way you have been treated and held under suspicion. You now have the most airtight alibi known to man. I hope there are no hard feelings, but you must realise I was only doing my job.”

  Jones was puzzled. “I’m not sure I follow, detective. Wh
at has changed since I was thrown in this rathole?”

  Ryan cleared his throat, and stood at the head of the room. “Everyone, listen up!”

  All the officers and detectives in the room gave him their full attention.

  “I just received a call from Elizabeth Blaise, the treasurer at the Glendale Christian Church. She reports that the church’s treasury has been broken into and robbed for the third time in the last six months.”

  “And this helps the judge how, exactly?” interrupted Hampton.

  Ryan gave him an unpleasant look that said, “Shut the hell up and let me finish,” before he said, “Because not only was the money stolen, there was also something left behind.”

  He paused for a moment, giving Hampton a chance to interrupt and ask the vital question. And right on cue, he asked, “What?”

  “Why, I’m so glad you asked, Detective Hampton,” Ryan said sarcastically. “Elizabeth discovered a corpse in the priest’s office where the money was kept under lock and key, which had some body parts missing.

  “Body parts missing!” exclaimed Jones.

  “I do believe that’s what I just said, yes.”

  He described in detail what Elizabeth had told him.

  Jones shuddered at the thought. “So how does that prove my innocence?” he asked.

  “Quite easily; the victim had a Bible verse hacked into his chest. Unless you sneaked out of your locked cell during the night whilst being guarded, I’m confident you didn’t do it. Of course, we’ll get an approximate time of death to confirm your innocence, just to be on the safe side, but I’m positive you’ll have nothing to worry about.”

  Jones was relieved to be off the hook, but he was still concerned and upset about the fact people were dropping like flies in his town. He asked Ryan, “Was Elizabeth able to identify the victim?”