The Alex Troutt Thrillers: Books 4-6 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set Book 2)

by John W. Mefford

“They make me drowsy, but just when my head hits the pillow, those images start swirling in my mind. Especially when I saw what happened to that woman. Gang-raped. That’s what it would be called anywhere outside the compound. Inside, they just called it some type of ritual, a woman’s last rite of passage, to have sex with the elders from the camp. As if they were bestowing their wisdom on her. It was fucking sick.”

  My heart couldn’t beat any faster. I wanted to bust down the door and make Claudia tell me everything she knew, but given her apprehension in talking to the FBI, right now I was getting more information about her captivity by just eavesdropping.

  I heard a huff—probably Hank. A moment later, there was a metal snap. The smell of cat food emanated from under the door. A few kitten meows followed.

  “I know you don’t like hearing about my drama, Hank, but the memories just won’t go away.”

  “Nothing to think about. It’s history. Behind you.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  A heavy breath. “I know…you’re right.”

  “I feel guilty.”

  “You shouldn’t. It wasn’t your fault. It’s the fault of those sick motherfuckers. That’s why we need to take this to the officials. That FBI lady who dropped by earlier, I have her number right here. She’s—”

  “Stop, Hank.”

  “What?”

  “You’re pressuring me. I…I just can’t. Not now.”

  “But when, Claudia? You can’t sleep, you think people might be after you, trying to kill you. You have all this information you can share with authorities.”

  The sound of a drawer slamming shut silenced the conversation.

  “I’m sorry, Claudia. Sorry if I’m pushing too hard. I don’t mean to make you cry.”

  “It’s…it’s not you. It’s them,” she said, sobbing.

  A few sniffles, followed by a big nose blow.

  “Here, have a beer,” Hank said.

  I heard a bottle cap ding off a hard surface.

  Another heavy breath. “Oh, Hank, how did I get myself into this shit?”

  “Do you really want to know?” Hank said with a slight chuckle. “Seriously, Claudia. You see the good in people, at least you did before you got pulled into that cult. I know it’s changed you, which is another reason to tell authorities. You need to see a counselor. Who wouldn’t after seeing the crazy shit you did?”

  I heard a bottle hit a counter. “I suppose.”

  “So, you’re at least open to it?”

  “Maybe. It’s just that…”

  “Just what?”

  “I have trust issues, what can I say?”

  “You come by it naturally, Claudia. I’m the same way. But after a while, I have to go with my gut. And the best chance I think we’ve got is to call up this FBI woman and let her take over. She’s got skin in the game. She says she might have a family member who was part of this crazy-ass cult from years ago.”

  “Oh my God, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I tried, but…”

  “I know, I was having one of my meltdowns.”

  Another moment passed, and then I heard an “ah”—Claudia drinking beer.

  “Okay, after giving it some thought, you might be right, Hank. I don’t want to live the rest of my life in a grungy apartment with two cats that claw up my second-hand furniture.”

  They shared a good laugh, like sisters do. As if I would know. Suddenly, my phone started ringing. I’d forgotten to click the mute button. I scrambled to tap the red circle to not accept the call.

  The door swung open.

  “Hi,” I said to Hank, still holding my phone in front of me. I peered over her shoulder to see Claudia holding a black and white kitten close to her chest.

  “You followed me,” Hank said.

  I nodded. “I overheard the last five minutes of your conversation, but I’m glad you called just to make it official. I can help you, and I think you can help me.”

  12

  Voices and laughter served as a backdrop of white noise as I replayed the words from Claudia just a couple of hours earlier: during her stay at Camp Israel, she had met a woman named Beulah.

  Beulah. The same name the gas station employee had reportedly heard my mom called thirty-two years ago.

  Dana, a waitress whose beehive hairdo was being held up by a pen, set a chocolate milkshake in front of Archie.

  “Where are the sprinkles?” he whined like a five-year-old.

  “We ran out. Sorry.” Dana plopped a straw on the table and then looked at me. “Your tuna melt is taking a while. Turns out Rocko had to run to the store on account we ran out of the cheap shit we get from the supplier.”

  “Ahh. I guess that’s good news.”

  She cupped a hand to the side of her mouth. “If you saw what I saw when he opened the last can, you’d definitely think that was good news.” She shot me a wink. I suddenly lost my appetite.

  “Order up!”

  “That’s Rocko. You want a refill on your coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  “Dana, where are you? Orders are stacking up?”

  She clenched fingers around her pen. “One of these days, I’m gonna…” she said as she marched off. Archie slowly leaned out of the booth, watching her backside until she disappeared behind the front counter.

  “Dude, there are other people in the restaurant.”

  The restaurant looked like a throwback to 1975, with the floral-pattern vinyl, mustard countertops, and a menu that featured tuna melts and chocolate shakes.

  “Sorry, no offense to anyone,” he said, holding up a hand.

  I shook my head. “So why did you want to meet here of all places?”

  “Here” was some dive off Highway 33, just on the border of Virginia and West Virginia.

  “Neutral territory.” He tipped back his head and slurped in a mouthful of shake. When he was done, he had a chocolate mustache on top of his regular cheesy mustache. I touched my napkin to my mouth, a signal for him to wipe his mouth. He proceeded to lean across the table.

  “What are you doing?” I swatted his hand away.

  “Wiping your mouth, like you wanted me to.”

  “No, you idiot. You need to wipe your mouth. Chocolate shake is all over your…”

  It almost needed a name.

  He brushed his arm across his mouth. “Damn sprinkles. If Dana wasn’t so hot, I’d forge a formal complaint.”

  I guffawed. “Really? About sprinkles?”

  “They’re ripping us off. It’s false advertising. It says here on the menu that shakes include sprinkles. I’m just looking out for you.”

  “Me? How are you looking out for me?”

  “You’re paying, right?”

  I pursed my lips, then I glanced out the window and saw Archie’s car. It was a rental, one of those two-door cars that had wheels that could fit on Luke’s bicycle.

  “I thought you drove a Camaro wherever you went.”

  “Client wouldn’t pick up the bill on that kind of sweet ride.”

  I nodded. “What’s the case here in the middle of nowhere?”

  His eyes shifted both ways, then he spoke under his breath. “Can’t say. Confidential.”

  I was mildly curious about his so-called confidential client, but also knew that Archie’s warped perspective of the world could also view a neighborhood homeowner’s association dispute with a resident as a matter of life and death. I didn’t have the time or energy to delve further into Archie’s life.

  Dana arrived with more coffee. I added sugar and cream and took a sip. While ogling Dana’s backside as she walked away, Archie slurped more of his shake and, again, used his sleeve to wipe away the remnants from his face. “Now tell me again about this money-making gig you’ve got for me. Who’s this deep-pockets client?”

  “Well, it’s not exactly a new client. It’s just me,” I said with caution in my voice.

  “You? You don’t have any money.”

  I shrugged. “Co
rrection. I’m no multimillionaire, but I’ve got a little stashed away for important things.”

  “And this is important,” he repeated.

  Resting my forearms on a napkin that covered part of the sticky table, I spoke with a measured voice. “I think my mother might still be alive.”

  He gave me a blank stare. “Are you sure that coffee isn’t spiked?”

  “No, Archie. I’m serious.”

  “After all these years? I thought she died in a traffic accident?”

  “I did too. My dad kept the real story from me and moved us away. But he didn’t know the whole story; he just thought she’d gone off the deep end, walked out of the hospital. He wanted no part of her.”

  “Have you ripped him a new one?”

  “Can’t. I went to his funeral the same day I talked to the guy who we thought had committed vehicular homicide.”

  He scrunched his eyes together, and I explained the Douglass Butterfield story and how that led me from trying to find my mother’s grave to now realizing there was at least a decent possibility she was still alive.

  “Did this Claudia person give you a positive ID?”

  I removed Mom’s small photo from my purse and held it out.

  “That’s your mom? Wow, she was a looker.”

  “Nice.”

  “What? I’m just calling it like I see it. And I see a beautiful young woman.”

  I flipped the picture over and took another glance, wondering if I saw any of myself in her.

  Archie strummed his fingers on the table. “She reminds me of someone…just can’t recall her name…”

  “Judy Garland?”

  “Who?”

  “No one. Never mind.”

  He snapped his fingers. “Oh, I know. That chick from The Wizard of Oz.”

  “Same person, moron.”

  “Is she?” His shoulders quivered. “Damn, that wicked witch used to give me the heebie-jeebies.”

  “Anyway, Claudia took a good five minutes to study this photo. She then said she was confident the person she’d met was the same woman in this picture.”

  “What does she look like now?” He moved the shake to the side and leaned forward over the table. “Claudia said she had lots of gray hair. A good number of wrinkles. But she said her eyes were a giveaway.”

  He grabbed the photo from my hand and looked at it, then shifted his sights to me, nodding his head. “Yep, you two are related.”

  “Are you saying I look like Judy Garland?” I was slightly flattered.

  “Hell no. Who’s that chick with the big nose, short, butchy hair, and sings at all of those gay weddings?”

  “Liza Minnelli?” He snapped his fingers. “That’s it. You’re kind of a cross between that photo and Liza Minnelli.”

  I withheld the urge to touch my nose, although I did quickly run my fingers through my hair.

  “One tuna melt coming up.” Dana set the plate right in front of me. The odor quickly invaded my senses.

  “Thanks.” I was trying to be courteous.

  Archie waved his hand across his face, and his eyes bugged out. “Wooo…that brings back some memories from high school.”

  I tilted my head. “What?” Then I thought better of it, holding up my hand. “I don’t want to know.”

  “So, Agent Troutt, what’s the game plan?”

  “To find my mom, if she’s still alive. From what Claudia described, this place where she might be living is worse than a prison. The rules change whenever the leaders want something done…for their little group, or for one of them individually.”

  He shook his head. “As in sexual favors?”

  “Rape, gang rape even. Many of the kids in the camp were born from couples right there, so Claudia suspects there has been incest as well. She was damn lucky to survive and get the hell out of there.”

  “Couldn’t she tell authorities?”

  I reviewed the sisters’ issues with trusting the FBI.

  “And yet they opened up to you?”

  “I guess I can be pretty convincing.” I covered the tuna melt with a spare napkin and then popped a few fries in my mouth. Archie turned serious, scratching his head. A few sticks of hay fell to the table. He picked them up and showed his pearly whites. “Okay, I admit it. Felicia came back to the barn.”

  “You’re a real gentleman. Did you allow her to take off her boots?”

  He turned his palms to the ceiling. “How would she be able to emulate a horse if she couldn’t clop her boots on the barn floor?”

  I held up a hand. “Why are you in this part of the country? And why are you sleeping with this married woman?”

  “Her horse was under the weather, so they called me.”

  “You told her you were a vet?”

  “Technically, I didn’t tell them that. I had business cards that gave them my credentials.”

  “Fake credentials,” I reminded him. “Is this part of your confidential case?”

  “Mum’s the word.”

  I huffed out a breath. “Do you want to help me find my mom?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then we need to share information openly. You know me, I can keep a secret.”

  He gulped the last of his shake, his eyes drifting away.

  “Archie, is there something you want to tell me…need to tell me?”

  “It’s nothing. Next steps to find your mom?”

  I stared at him an extra second, but decided not to push it. My phone buzzed, and I glanced at the screen. It was the message I’d been waiting on from Gretchen.

  I read it and said to Archie, “I’ve got the location of the camp. It’s near a small town just across the border in the Monongahela National Forest, near Parsons, West Virginia.”

  “What’s this nuthouse called?”

  “Camp Israel.”

  His eyes didn’t blink.

  “What is it, Archie?”

  “Did you lose your appetite, sweetie?” Dana said to me as she approached the table.

  “Eh…”

  “It’s that tuna, isn’t it? No worries.”

  “I’ll take the fries to go.”

  She nodded and said she’d be back with a check and a special surprise for Archie.

  “She’s a nice diversion, Archie, but something’s up, I can tell. I need to know you’re on board, and that your other case won’t get in the way of finding my mom.”

  “Nothing’s up,” he said as Dana came up with what looked like an empty coffee mug. She placed the check on the table. Archie’s eyes stayed on her.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” I said.

  He never heard me, but neither did our waitress, who flipped the contents of the mug into Archie’s empty shake glass.

  It was a cherry.

  “It’s yours,” she said with a wink, then she sauntered away while looking over her shoulder.

  Archie panted so heavily he sounded like a dog in heat. He probably was. Now something was definitely up.

  13

  I followed just behind Archie’s poor excuse of a car into the mountains of West Virginia. He suggested we stop to spend the night in Elkins, a small town just south of Parsons, which was nothing more than a small town itself. He said the lone, two-star motel was all his client would pay for. I didn’t push back, but his continuous mentioning of finances had me concerned. Something about the guy seemed off, more off than usual.

  As for my room, the second-story metal door wouldn’t close all the way, and the slick comforter smelled like piss. Besides that, it was first-class accommodations. Archie volunteered to get us breakfast before we sat down with an old-fashioned map and an earth app from my cell phone to try to get a better idea of how Camp Israel was laid out. Right after he left, I completed a series of playful, even somewhat suggestive text messages with Brad. It helped temporarily take my mind off the arduous and potentially dangerous task of infiltrating this camp where Claudia had seen my mom, or someone who looked like her and went by the na
me Beulah.

  My stomach growled as I finished up a call with the kids.

  “I was up until two o’clock last night doing chemistry homework. Uggh.” My daughter, Erin, had a knack for the dramatic. I chalked it up to being fifteen going on eighteen. At least most of it.

  “Do the best you can, Erin, but it’s just school. You shouldn’t think it’s torture.”

  “Easy for you to say. You went to school in the dark ages.”

  A smacking sound and then a giggle. “Better stop it, you little twerp,” she said sharply.

  Had to be Luke. “Erin, please don’t call your brother names.”

  “But he just smacked the back of my neck and said crispy.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked, almost intrigued.

  “I don’t know. Some type of stupid middle-school ritual. Real mature, runt.”

  “Erin…” I started, then heard Ezzy in the background saying something about pulling their lunches together.

  “Gotta run, Mom. Love you.”

  Before I could reciprocate, I heard the phone hit something hard. I shouted, “Your brother. Put him on, please.”

  A moment later, “Hey, Mom. I’m good. School’s good.” He giggled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Just a video I was watching. You wouldn’t believe the shit some people do on camera.”

  “Luke, really? You don’t need to cuss to act older.”

  “Oh, Mom.”

  “I’m not naïve. I know you’ve heard the words.”

  “So it’s no big deal then, right?”

  “Just show a little class and act your age. You’re a good kid. You don’t need to pretend to be this dope street kid.”

  “Wow, Mom, that was pretty lame.”

  “But you get my drift, right?”

  “Yeah. Later.”

  “Love you, son.”

  I could feel my heart ping my chest. I missed my family, even if the kids were at that know-it-all, sassy age.

  “Dr. Alex, you coming home soon?” Ezzy had picked up the phone.

  “Well, hello to you too.”

  “Sorry. Just in a rush. Do what you need to do. Despite their occasional smart-alecky attitudes, the kids are doing fine.”

  I thanked her, and we hung up. My body craved caffeine, even more than food. I found a pen and pulled back the curtains. The stiff fabric made a crinkling noise, which made me wonder what was coated on them.