The Mather Triad: Series Boxed Set (Chloe Mather Thrillers)

by Lawrence Kelter

  “What’s he doing, Ma?” Josh asked nervously.

  “I don’t know. Shhh! Stay quiet so that I can listen.” She heard him swearing in the kitchen.

  Wrga reappeared after a moment and grabbed her purse from where it was lying on the carpet. His voice was impatient, “Your car keys in here?”

  Noticing that he was no longer carrying his gun, she found the courage to remain silent.

  “Eat shit,” he swore and dumped the contents of her purse on the floor. “Bingo.” He grabbed the keys and stood. “Lucky break for you,” he said. “Not to worry because I’ll be back to finish what I started.”

  The buffeting of chopper blades was clearly audible as Wrga slipped out the front door.

  “Ma, is he gone?” Brandon asked hopefully.

  Carla reached down with her bound hands and feebly began to peel the duct tape from around her ankles. “I don’t know.” She froze when she heard the sound of car tires squealing. “God, I hope so. I think so.” The air filled with the sound of sirens. She could see pairs of headlights and flashing strobes through the curtains as they raced by. She crossed her heart with her bound hands. “Thank you, Jesus.”

  The three of them shrieked in unison as the front door came crashing open. Almost immediately tactical officers in black commando gear and helmets burst into the room, brandishing guns and rifles. They looked around and spread throughout the house. A tense moment passed before one of them came to their aid.

  “Everyone okay?” the officer asked and began removing their restraints.

  “Uh-huh,” Carla acknowledged. “Oh, thank God you got here when you did. I was never so scared in my life.”

  “How many were there, ma’am?” the officer asked.

  “Just the one. Did you get him?”

  “We’re in pursuit.”

  “Clear!” another officer hollered as he rumbled down the stairs from the upper level of the home.

  “There was only one perpetrator,” the first officer said.

  “Just one, huh?” The second officer holstered his weapon. “At least it was real.”

  “The hell does that mean, ‘at least it was real’?” Carla asked with irritation. “My boys and I were assaulted at gunpoint. How much more real does it get than that?”

  “I didn’t mean any offense, ma’am,” the second officer said. “Swattings have become a common occurrence. I’ve been on two this month alone.”

  “What’s a swatting?”

  “A hoax,” the first officer said. “Morons call 911 or use the TTY option on their smart phones to report an incident that requires a SWAT response. It’s a big waste of taxpayers’ money and deploys department services where they’re not needed.”

  “Really? That’s messed up,” Josh said.

  “You’re right, son,” the first officer said. “But we’re glad everyone is safe.” He turned to Carla. “What did the perpetrator want? Was it a robbery?”

  “No,” Carla replied. “He wasn’t looking for money. He wanted my father.”

  Chapter 16

  Al Mather watched from within the car as the police SWAT team rammed the front door and charged into the house. He and Rossetti had been in place for thirty minutes and had seen Wrga race away in Carla’s car.

  Rossetti put his hand on the door handle.

  “Whoa! Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Fuck it, Al. I want to make sure my daughter and her kids are all right.”

  “And what are you gonna tell them and the police when they ask why some mope held your daughter’s family at gunpoint to lure you to their house?”

  “I don’t give a shit. I’m going.”

  “You do that,” Mather said flippantly. “Go waltz right over there and hand yourself over to the authorities. I won’t stop you.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Rossetti swore. He clenched his fists and pounded the dashboard. “I have to know they’re all right.”

  “I don’t see an ambulance. Do you?”

  “Screw you, Al. Just because you don’t give a shit about your family doesn’t mean that I don’t give a shit about mine.”

  “Believe you me, no one knows more about how I fucked up my family than me. You play chess, Rossetti?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Because I’m the grandmaster of the flushing your wife and kid down the toilet gambit.” He shook his head with despair. “Sure, just spill the beans in front of your daughter and your grandkids. They’ll really look up to you after that.” Stretching, he grimaced because a knot in his back throbbed painfully.

  “I can’t just sit here.”

  “You ever hear of a telephone?”

  Rossetti’s phone was sitting in the cup holder. Al picked it up and offered it to him. “Go ahead,” he said. “Reach out and touch someone. They don’t have to know you’re sitting in a car down the street.”

  Rossetti snatched the phone from him angrily. He hit the auto dial and listened to the phone ringing. “I have to admit that was a pretty smart idea, Al. Who’d ever think of calling in a terrorist threat on a suburban home?”

  “I mean, who’s going to screw around when a SWAT team knocks down the door. Anyway, it worked, didn’t it?”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  “Daddy?”

  Rossetti closed his eyes when he heard his daughter’s voice on the line. Thank God. “I’m on my way, sweetheart. How are the boys?”

  Chapter 17

  Without money, a home, or his fellow brethren to support him, Sand had reverted back to the way he had been as a youth, primal and very much lost in the world. His emotions pulled him down like a powerful ocean undertow, dragging him back in time to his childhood, making him an anomaly once more, a victim trapped in a prison from which there was no escape, a sideshow attraction onlookers mocked and recoiled from. He was once more that aberrant boy, the object of cruelty and misfortune. He had always been physically deformed and emotionally tortured, and though he had temporarily risen above all that he had been, he chose to pursue a life of ugliness, and it ultimately consumed him anew.

  He had been pacing the periphery of the small room for hours, making smaller squares with each pass until he was literally pivoting in one small continuous pattern all the while thinking, If only I hadn’t … He saw the female FBI officer as his downfall. He had thought that the abductions, torturing, and murders he had carried out had been justified, that he had only metered out justice for human maggots, but after hours of introspection he understood that his vigilante murders were merely the gateway to hell, and he now understood that the fires of hell would consume him throughout eternity. The moment he heard a key in the lock he dropped to the floor in the far corner of the room and pulled his knees into his chest, cowering like the frightened child he had once again become. He focused on where he thought Simone’s face would first appear in order to judge her initial expression.

  Simone opened the door just wide enough for her to pass through, closed and locked it immediately. She appeared tentative as she set a bag of groceries on the small table and made eye contact with Sand. Oh my. He was almost unrecognizable. He was still a lion of a man, but without his robust confidence he seemed no more than an animal, a caged animal that knew nothing more than to eat and circle its cage. Sand had not bathed in days and the sardonic expression chiseled into his face was far more frightening than any of the deformities he had been born with. “You poor thing,” she lamented, but was really thinking, You tortured beast. “I brought groceries. I’ll make you a sandwich. Are you hungry?”

  Sand nodded without making eye contact with her, his chin pushed into his chest, and his immense tuft of naturally kinky hair billowed over his shoulders like suds of beer flowing over the rim of a beer mug.

  Simone wanted to believe that the real Sand was still very much alive and inside this wreck of a man, waiting for the opportunity to reemerge. The man she knew was capable of eating like two men combined. She sliced a large hero bread lengthwise and began laye
ring it with cold cuts and cheese before sliding the plate across the table. She gestured for him to sit down, but Sand remained motionless and silent.

  She tried to persuade him. “Jo’Ell, you have to eat.”

  He eyed the sandwich and then looked away. “Everyone is dead. I killed them. I killed them all.” His small band of brothers was gone. They were not assassins, but he had sent them to do an assassin’s bidding, and by neglecting to protect them with bulletproof vests like he had been wearing … the few living beings capable of making him feel like a human being were now lying in the morgue. “What will I do?” he wailed.

  “You sound a little selfish, Jo’Ell. They were my friends too,” she bemoaned. “They were the only people who didn’t make me feel ugly and now … Just eat your sandwich,” she said with pity in her voice. Gazing at him, she felt a pain in the pit of her stomach that was not the result of hunger. What is this feeling? she wondered. Look at him. Is this what he’s become, or is this what he really was all along? It took but a moment for her to associate an emotion with her physical pain. I loathe him and it hurts me to look at him. “You’re a fully grown man, Jo’Ell. Eat the sandwich or don’t. I’m not going to beg you.”

  He had told her about his childhood, about the gruesome boy who propelled himself across the house with his hands like an ape, a boy who had been terribly neglected and treated like an animal. She reached down deep trying to find pity, thinking it might replace the feeling of despair that was eating her up alive, but it just wasn’t there.

  “I have to go back to work, Jo’Ell. Do you want to talk before I go? Have you thought about how to keep us from going to jail?”

  He shook his head nervously. “Do you have to go already? I don’t want to be alone right now.”

  “I have to hide in plain sight. I have to go about my day-to-day activities as if nothing has happened.” Dear God, I hope he bought that. “I think it’s a mistake for us to be together right now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you need time to think.” And I just can’t look at you right now. “You’ve always been our leader, Jo’Ell. It’s up to you to get us out of this mess.”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Neither do I, but this is the web you’ve woven, not me. It’s up to you to get us out of it. I’ve never been in charge. I followed you blindly because I believed in you. Do that again, Jo’Ell; make me believe in you again.”

  “What if I can’t?” he whimpered.

  “Then we’ll both go to jail … or worse, much worse.” She forced herself to bring forth a smile, but it was a poor forgery. “Feed that big brain of yours, Jo’Ell. You’ll think of something.” She picked up her bag. “That’s all the advice I have for you. I have to go.”

  “Will you come back soon?”

  “As soon as the boss tells me I can leave.” Or maybe I’ll ask if I can put in a little overtime. Anything is better than being trapped in here with you.

  Chapter 18

  I brought Lazy Daze of Summer about and guided it gently into its slip. I looped the rope around the mooring and pulled it taut, securing the bowline with my one good hand. I’d been out on the Long Island Sound a short while, floating about, soaking up the morning sun, and letting the lull of the lapping sea wash over me. My bullet wound seemed to be causing more discomfort now than at the time of the shooting, so I had been up early, crack of dawn early, and figured a boat ride was better for me than a dose of painkillers.

  I had learned to tie knots many moons ago and could practically do them with my eyes closed. With one good paw, securing the stern line proved a bit more challenging than securing the bow.

  “Let me help you with that, little girl.”

  The sun was strong but my blood ran cold, and all the tranquility the Sound had imparted unto me turned to ice. I spun around and saw him standing a few yards away, smiling and looking innocent as if he was the Good Samaritan and doting father who had always played a helpful role in my life. “I’d rather drown.”

  “Oh, don’t say that, little girl. I can see you’re struggling. Let me give you a hand securing the boat.”

  “I don’t think so.” I found determination and began to bounce around the dock like an aerialist. Within a moment the boat was secure and his offer of help moot.

  “I see you take real good care of that vessel. I guess I taught you well.”

  “You taught me lots of things, not all of them good or, for that matter, even useful.”

  “Let it go, Chloe. I’m here now, aren’t I?”

  I stepped off the boat and walked right up to him, eye to eye. “Why are you here, Al?”

  “I don’t understand you asking me a question like that. Can’t a man visit his family? For God’s sake, I’m your father, Chloe.”

  “Look, Al, you can’t just walk back into our lives like nothing’s happened. After all these years and all the pain you’ve caused … Well, it just doesn’t work like that.”

  “Well, how does it work? Because I’m doing my damndest to figure it out.”

  “I don’t know,” I huffed. “I just don’t know.” I shrugged and began walking away.

  “Can’t we at least talk? I know I’ve made mistakes. Don’t shut the door on me, Chloe.”

  I glared at him.

  “All right, I made big serious mistakes, world-class fuck-ups. I’m not denying it.”

  “You cheated on Grace and sold her family’s business out from under her. You destroyed our lives, Al. I don’t know that there’s any way back from where you’ve gone. ”

  “So what do I do?”

  “Like I said, ‘I don’t know!’”

  His head dropped and his expression became forlorn like a puppy being scolded. “I’m in trouble, little girl, and I need your help.”

  “My help? You want my help? That’s laughable. Why on God’s green earth would I go out of my way to help you with anything?”

  He looked into my eyes beseechingly. “Can I tell you about it?”

  “No. No, you can’t.” I tried to walk away again.

  “Someone’s trying to kill me, little girl. Do you hate me so much you want to see me dead?”

  “Why am I not surprised?” A man who could wantonly destroy his own family was capable of anything. “What did you do, Al?”

  He put his hands together as if offering appreciation to a divinity. “Thank you so much, little girl, but not here. Can we go somewhere and talk? How about Wednesday’s Diner in town? That place is still open, isn’t it?”

  Don’t let him suck you into this. He’ll chew you up and spit you out when he’s done with you, just like he did to Grace. Everything I had learned about the sociopathic mind told me to turn and run like hell, but I couldn’t. It felt as if my feet were stuck in the mud. “Yeah, it’s still open,” I said begrudgingly. You want to buy your little girl a milkshake, Dad? And when we’re done, maybe you can take me to the circus.

  I guess he saw that I was giving in. He grinned and said, “Thank you,” even before I said yes.

  Chapter 19

  Jim Donovan’s eyes were still blurry with sleep as he looked out the kitchen window at the Atlantic. The ocean was majestic and infinite—the morning breakers were slight as they washed up on the Donovans’ private beach. His mother used to say that the Atlantic was a sea of four-leaf clovers that connected the family with their ancestral home in Ireland, but he had learned otherwise. He believed that the Atlantic was a sea of emeralds and that everything his father touched turned to gold.

  He poured a mug of strong coffee and drank it black while he waited for his head to clear. Taking after his mother, he had always slept like a corpse, and awakening was a slow and tedious process. Capable of sleeping ten hours straight, he needed a heavy dose of caffeine to clear the cobwebs after the alarm rang. He likened the effect of the stimulant to having heart paddles placed on his chest.

  By contrast Scarlett was an early riser—her biorhythm had been locked in since puberty.
She slept exactly six hours, no more and no less. Donovan always awoke to find himself alone in bed, and this morning was no exception. As his eyes cleared, he scanned the beach. They were there just as he expected, his father and Scarlett side by side on lounge chairs, both covered with blankets. He tightly cinched his robe and walked out to say good morning.

  Bairre Donovan was sound asleep. Scarlett was reading on her iPad. He never bothered to ask what she was reading because one title blurred into the next—his firebrand wife was an insatiable reader and consumed a book per day, usually tawdry romance novels he had little interest in. “How long have you two zombies been out here?”

  Scarlett smiled at her husband and closed the cover on her iPad. “Since six.”

  He sat down on the lounge chair next to her and crossed his arms. “Still pretty chilly out here.”

  “It’s hazy.” It was never too early for her to be suggestive. “Get under the blanket with me—I know a surefire way to warm you up.”

  “With Dad three feet away from you?” he said, expressing absurdity.

  “I don’t believe the news of me being a dirty little tramp will come as any great shock to a man as worldly as your father.”

  “Still … let’s not give the old boy a heart attack.”

  “He comes from good stock—I’m sure his heart can take just about anything either of us can dish out.”

  Donovan grinned at her, then directed his gaze toward the sea. “The surf’s quiet this morning. You can barely hear it.”

  “Yes. It’s very soothing.” Her gaze lingered a moment as the soft whitecaps came ashore. “Where are you off to today, you charming little huckster?”

  “A huckster, am I?”

  Grinning, she said, “Aren’t we all?”

  His smile confirmed his agreement with her truism. “Long Beach. The folks over there are still reeling from the devastation caused by Hurricane Sandy.”