Assassin's Redemption: Stolen Memories, #1

by Richard Allen Evans

  The thought of being on the water with a rod and reel appealed to him as never before. Again, where did that thought come from?

  Adam was a city boy. Outside of the Army and of course some jobs here and there, he wasn't the outdoors type. His idea of roughing it was a budget motel.

  He checked his watch. It was 3:45. He hoped Sheriff Thurman didn't have an early day. He wanted to find out where Thurman lived without asking around — the fewer people that could give the description of a stranger, so much the better.

  ***

  The days were already getting shorter and Savanna Brooke noticed the fading daylight as she pulled into her driveway off of Hurst Street after a non-eventful day at work. Her boss was out of town again and she was relieved not to have deal with him.

  Sure, he made her job so much easier but with Jack in town, there wasn't much room in her schedule - or anything else - for the boss, she thought as she unlocked her front door.

  She smoothed her gray skirt as she walked inside and put her purse on the dinette table to her right and flipped on the overhead light.

  “I was wondering when you'd make it home darling,” said a gruff voice from the couch in the living room.

  She gasped loudly.

  “You scared the shit out of me,” she said as she placed her right hand on her chest. Her heart was racing.

  “Sorry darling.' I didn't mean to scare you,” he said.

  'I didn't see your car in its usual place,” she said.

  “I parked over on Lafayette,” he said.

  His speech was slightly slurred. The man was drunk and that scared Savanna even more. She was familiar with his temperament when he had alcohol in his system.

  “Why don't you come over here and tell me about your day while we help each other relax,” he said, patting the couch.

  “Okay,” she said nervously trying to keep her voice from quivering.

  Savanna sat down next to him. He smiled and reached out to caress her face.

  “Miss me baby?” He asked.

  The smell of liquor was strong on his breath and his eyes were red as blood. He ran his hands through his short red and gray hair. The crow’s feet on his face looked even deeper than usual.

  “You didn't answer my question,” he said, leaning in closer to her.

  “Y-yes I did. You just surprised me that's all,” she said, forcing a smile.

  He grinned.

  “Bullshit. Jack was here last night. He was, wasn't he?” The drunken older man demanded to know.

  “Jack?” Savanna asked innocently, hoping to buy enough time to come up with a convenient lie.

  “Jackie boy was here alright. He always visits you when he's in town. And you enjoy those visits don't you whore? Don't deny it. You've already pissed me off,” he said.

  “I can't very well tell him no. He pays my rent,” Savanna said.

  “I knew it. You're just a whore!” He yelled as he backhanded her with his right hand.

  She yelped and fell backwards on the couch as blood squirted from her lips and nose.

  Dazed, she struggled to focus through her tear filled eyes.

  “Please,” she said weakly.

  “What can I say? Love hurts bitch,” he said.

  The man stood up. He was about 5'll and weighed at least 220 pounds. He had been powerfully built once with a barrel chest. The barrel had long since rolled into his stomach forming an impressive beer belly.

  A little unsteady himself, he reached and pulled her up by her left wrist. Finally on her feet, she swayed as he grabbed the front of her blouse and ripped it open, sending white buttons flying in all directions. She yelped again as he grabbed the front of bra and roughly pulled it up over her breasts.

  He grinned.

  “That's more like it,” he slurred as he wobbled. “Turn around,” he growled.

  Shaking and afraid, Savanna started turning but she was too slow as an open handed slap met the left side of her face. She fell on her side onto the couch, blood staining the green-gray fabric.

  She struggled to stand but she felt his weight fall across her back and his legs kicked over the coffee table. He forced her face into the couch cushion. On her knees, she could feel her skirt being pushed up over her waist. She heard her underwear tearing at almost the same time as she felt pulling away from her body.

  “Please don't. Not like this,” Savanna begged.

  “Purple. Very nice. Jackie boy must have bought these,” he said as he tossed away the remnants of underwear. “Time for some fun sweetheart,” he grunted as he unbuttoned his pants.

  Starting to regain some of her senses, Savanna started crying.

  “Please,” she cried again as he entered her.

  “That's right bitch, beg. Beg me the way you beg that greedy asshole Jack,” he growled. “It's time you had a real man again,” the man said, lost in his pleasure.

  Savanna tried to scream but the only sound she could make was loud sobs.

  “C'mon whore! Talk to me! Tell me how much you like it! You know what turns me on,” he said as he grabbed her hair and pulled it hard.

  In shame and fury, Savanna finally found her voice as she screamed. Instead of frightening the man it only served to spur him on.

  “That's it! Let me know how much you want me,” he laughed as the shriek morphed in a whine.

  “You're hurting me!” She cried.

  “Good! Next time you'll remember who owns your ass,” he said, feeling his impending climax.

  Defeated, Savanna gritted her teeth. She too could feel the rape nearing its end. Her goal was to endure it and hope he would leave without further violence. Tears burned her eyes and she could taste the salty flavor of blood as it poured from nose.

  Instead of relief when she felt the man spasm at last, she felt even more anger.

  He slapped her bare bottom hard enough to leave a bruise.

  “Now you'll remember who you belong to bitch. I don't share a good piece of ass with anybody. Anybody!” He yelled as he slipped out of her.

  Another hard slap to the other side of her exposed butt followed.

  “I want to hear you say it. Jack Raven ain't half the man I am,” he said.

  Still sobbing and in great pain, Savanna coughed and tried to speak.

  “Say it! So help me say it or I'll make you suffer!” He said, staggering as he stood.

  Even in great pain and trembling with fear, Savanna's rage grew into white hot fury.

  “Jack Raven,” she began, still coughing as she climbed shakily to her feet, “is more man than you'll ever be you short dicked bastard,” she said, enjoying the feeling of the words as they rolled off her tongue.

  The words hit the man like a punch as it rocked him back on his heels - for a split second. He recovered quickly and his red eyes darkened and his scowl turned into a snarl.

  Savanna's fear turned out to be well founded as the man lunged at her with surprising speed. He crashed into her and they tumbled over the end of the couch and knocked over an end table, breaking a lamp. Shards of broken glass cut a deep gash in the man's wrist and he howled as much in anger as he did in pain.

  Falling with the man on top of her knocked the wind out of Savanna. She gasped for air as excruciating pain filled her insides. The man climbed to his knees and punched her in the face with his right hand. He followed with another haymaker from his left hand as Savanna's head snapped from one side to the other.

  Flashes of vision was all she had as she knew she was losing consciousness. Savanna fought to keep her eyes open and quickly wished she hadn't.

  The last thing she saw was the heavy base of the broken lamp being swung toward her forehead. Still on his knees, the man leaned back and took a few deep breaths. After a few seconds he crawled forward and checked for a pulse.

  He laughed. She was still alive but he taught her a lesson she wouldn't forget.

  Maybe he needed to be sure he proved his point. He reached over and picked up a shard of glass and dug it
all the way to her cheekbone and drug it across her face to her ear. He admired his handiwork.

  “See how Jack likes you now bitch,” as he stood and staggered toward the door as blood poured from her wound.

  ***

  When Haley walked into the Thurman house, she saw a familiar sight. Chet sat in his recliner with his feet up watching ESPN.

  “Aunt Carly in the kitchen?” She asked as she walked through the living room.

  “Yeah. She's finishing up supper,” he said looking up from the television.

  She stopped near his recliner.

  “I heard you had an interesting afternoon — at least that's the talk at the office,” Haley said with a half-smile.

  Chet smiled.

  “It was a little lively but the mayor and I weren't exactly exchanging Christmas cards to begin with,” he said.

  “After today, I expect that trend will continue,” she said.

  “I'm not overly concerned about the mayor or her feelings. Was Georgia any help today?” He asked.

  Haley was surprised by the question.

  “Help?” She asked.

  “Yeah, about Tackett,” Chet said.

  “Yes, she gave us a lot of background on him. On top of being a serial woman beater he apparently is also a white supremacist with powerful friends, but I have a feeling you already knew that,” she said.

  Chet smiled.

  “Oh, I've been familiar with that bunch for a long time. I'm just hoping we finally have enough to make an arrest. But let's not talk about that tonight. Let's just enjoy a good meal and good friends,” he said.

  Haley smiled brightly.

  “Okay Uncle Chet. I'll go see if Aunt Carly needs any help and you can get back to the football highlights,” she said as she continued toward the kitchen.

  “It's the South and it's football season. It's important,” he called out as she disappeared into the kitchen.

  Haley saw her aunt standing over the stove checking on pots covering each eye of the stove.

  Carlene was a short woman with silver hair and over the years she put on a few pounds but was still not exactly what most people would call fat. Her face was virtually wrinkle-free and more often than not she sported a smile.

  She looked and saw Haley.

  “Can I do anything to help Aunt Carly?” She asked.

  “Everything is almost ready. You can set the table in a minute if you don't mind. But first, let's just sit and talk for a minute before everybody gets here,” Carlene said as she pulled out a chair at the kitchen table.

  Haley pulled out a chair and joined her. She looked at the old table. It was small and had only four chairs, which were metal and with padded backs and seats. The pale blue vinyl covering was original. The Thurmans bought the kitchen set in 1969. That they still used it and the table with the Formica top was a testament to their thrifty nature.

  “How are you liking your new job?” Carlene asked.

  “It's only been two days but I think I'll really like it. I'm really grateful to you and Uncle Chet for helping me come back home,” Haley said.

  Carlene reached over and patted her hand.

  “It made no sense for you to stay in Knoxville with us living here. You need to be around family. I worry about you living alone,” she said.

  “I'm a big girl. I can handle myself. I carry a gun remember?” Haley said.

  “You look more like your mother every day. You even sound like her. She was independent too,” Carlene said.

  “That's not a bad thing is it?” Haley asked with a grin.

  Carlene smiled.

  “No dear, not at all,” she paused for a few seconds. “So tell me, how do you like working with Beau Fullbright?”

  “He seems like a good guy. Why do you ask?” Haley wanted to know.

  Carlene smiled again.

  “You're wearing make-up and you never wear make-up. I don't think it's to impress me and Chet or even Marcus and Chelsea. Besides, you are your mother's daughter. I've seen this behavior before. You're not the only detective in the family,” she said.

  “Okay, I admit it. I like him and I want him to like me, but...I feel like a fool. We don't even know each other and on top of everything else, we work together,” Haley said, exasperated but relieved to be able to say it.

  “Listen to me sweetheart. You have nothing to feel bad about. He is a good man. He's a good looking man. And you two have a lot in common. It's only natural you're interested in him,” Carlene said. “Besides, a night like this is how you get to know him. As for work, I can always put in a word with the boss. I do still have some ways to wield influence,” she added with a wink.

  “Ewww, no offense Aunt Carly but I'd rather not know,” Haley said almost recoiling.

  Carlene looked up innocently.

  “I can still make blueberry pie and you know how much your Uncle Chet loves my blueberry pie,” she said.

  “Oh,” was Haley's only reply.

  ***

  The sun was fading when Beau pulled up and parked on the street in front of the Thurman house.

  It was a beautiful building. White wooden siding covered the two stories which featured a wraparound porch from the front and down the east side of the house. This wasn't Beau's first trip to the house or his first meal with the Thurmans, who made an effort to get to know every officer in the department.

  But this time...this time he was nervous. He knew why even if he didn't want to admit it even to himself. As he stepped out of his navy blue and orange 1989 Ford Bronco II, Beau considered his internal conflict.

  He wanted to make a good impression and at the same time keep a respectable distance from Haley. He wanted nothing more than to ask her out but also wanted to avoid doing so at all costs.

  Beau started walking up the sidewalk and was almost to the steps when he heard a small voice.

  “Uncle Beau! Uncle Beau!” Said a giggling five-year old boy as he ran toward him.

  “Hey Mike! Whoa you're getting heavy,” Beau said as he scooped the kid up into his arms.

  “Daddy says I must be full of iron,” Mike explained.

  “Well, your daddy would know. He's full of it too,” Beau said as Marcus and Chelsea walked up.

  Chelsea hugged Beau and kissed his cheek.

  “I just wanted thank you personally. The three of us are thrilled with his new job,” she said.

  “Consider it my way of saying thank you. If not for you guys, I don't know where I'd be today,” Beau said.

  Chet appeared at the screen door.

  “You don't have to wait outside. You're more than welcome to come in,” he said.

  “Just enjoying the aroma. I can smell the food out here,” Marcus said.

  “You could smell the food from the courthouse,” Chelsea said.

  “Let's see how much of a bloodhound you are,” Chet said as they stepped up on the porch. “What's cooking?”

  Marcus sniffed twice.

  “Pot roast with potatoes and carrots, brown gravy, green beans, corn, mac and cheese, homemade rolls, and,” he sniffed again. “Pie...blackberry cobbler, no, wait. Blueberry pie, yes, definitely blueberry pie.”

  Chet looked stunned.

  “That's unbelievable,” he said. “You named each dish.”

  “It's a gift,” Marcus said proudly.

  “It's insane,” Chelsea said shaking her head.

  “When and where were the blueberries picked smart guy?” Beau asked.

  “Late June...no, early July before the rains. Picked in Anderson County, most likely by a man named Paul,” Marcus said.

  Beau looked at Chet.

  “Well I'm not going to tell him he's wrong,” Chet said as they entered the house.

  ***

  Adam sat in his truck three houses away from the Thurman residence. Parked in the street and with daylight disappearing quickly he could see several visitors in front of the house. Two of them were large men. The white guy carrying the child was a little shorter than
the black man. A woman also accompanied the black man. A younger woman arrived about an hour earlier.

  Adam didn't know if the guests were family, friends, or both but he had all of the information he needed for the moment.

  As got ready to start the truck, he took a long look at the white guy as he stepped onto the porch. Adam couldn't see his face but there was something oddly familiar about the way he moved. He shook his head. Lately, everything had a familiar feel to it. Maybe age was finally catching up with him he thought as he started the truck and pulled out after the party of people went inside.

  A scant twenty-two minutes later, Adam pulled the pick-up off of Hwy. 59 and onto what had once been a gravel road that led into the woods. He slowly rounded a slight curve about 125 feet away from the paved road. The truck was completely out of sight of any passers-by on Hwy. 59.

  Adam climbed out of truck and quietly closed the door. He slipped on night vision goggles and carried a spotting scope in his left hand. The Desert Eagle was nestled in a holster under his left arm and concealed by his camouflage jacket.

  With darkness settling in, the temperatures fell steadily. It wasn't yet really cold - at least by Chicago standards - but he wouldn't be surprised to see frost by morning. He knew he needed to move quickly and not leave any potential tracks as he moved deliberately up the ridge.

  After about 60 yards, he arrived at the top of the ridge. He looked down and saw a large sprawling estate in the distance. Adam understood the owners called the place Raven's Nest.

  There was a small clearing with logs stacked. It would provide an excellent location from which to fire. It was as though someone had prepared a sniper's nest for him, which in all likelihood, someone did.

  Adam took a deep breath and dropped to one knee. He took out the spotting scope slowly and removed the lens cover. It was a night scope so he slipped off his goggles and raised the instrument to his eye.

  Adam surveyed the grounds of the estate. There appeared to be an impressive security force patrolling the grounds. It was near Secret Service equivalent, he thought.

  He moved the scope toward the house. Adam spotted a helipad behind the large house; mansion was more of an accurate description. The security presence was as formidable in and around the mansion; that meant he would get only one great shot and maybe a second shot of with an acceptable degree of accuracy. Adam pinned his hopes on the first — and hopefully — only shot.