Doubt #3 (The Deception Series #1)

by Hopkins, J. D.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Sign Up For Exclusives

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  DOUBT #4

  NOTE FROM AUTHOR

  Doubt.

  Part Three.

  By

  J.D. Hopkins

  www.JD-Hopkins.com

  COPYRIGHT

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer imagination or have been used factiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 by J.D. Hopkins.

  Published By J.D.H. Publishing.

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products reference in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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  Chapter 1

  While kneeling down on all-fours hopelessly, staring at the carpet, the somewhat salty taste of my tears soothes me as I lick my lips slowly. The shrouded darkness created by my brown hair hanging down towards the cushioned floor begins to calm me down. Despite this temporary solace, I still find myself endlessly gazing in disbelief. I cannot summon the courage to read any more of what's on the board, but I know deep down, I need to.

  With gentle and gradual movements, I am now resting on both my knees, staring towards Jess's open bedroom door. I glance down at my trembling hands that are now red and covered in marks created from leaning on Jess's carpet. The strange thing is, they don't even hurt. Numbness is the only sensation that lingers throughout my hollow body.

  Why, Dean? Why have you done this to me? I don't deserve this, I really, really don't.

  While rubbing the necklace that Dean bought me only a few hours ago, I drop my head, and let out one final weep before returning my focus back to the very board that turned my life upside down. I stand up and suck in a deep breath. All the photographs, and mug shots of Dean and Steve just don't make sense. My eyes gravitate to a sheet of printed paper pinned up against the board with "The Process" scribbled at the top of it.

  It reads:

  "The Morgan Brothers / A.K.A. Dean & Steven Knight."

  "Steven Morgan - Mastermind and Attacker (uses altered accent)."

  "Dean Morgan - Savior and Charmer."

  "Their trademark scam begins with Steve, who observes big winners in casinos. When big winners leave the complex, Steven then proceeds to follow and stalk victims until the opportunity to role-play an attack presents itself. Dean hangs around outside the casino at all times. Once he spots Steve leave the casino from afar, Dean then knows to prepare himself to rescue the victim at the right time. (Reminder: This is all staged.)

  Steve will then be chased away, and it's up to Dean to strike up a strong rapport with the victim. The first point of action he uses is to encourage the victim to file a police statement, of which Dean also attends, but never files a statement at the same time. This is their way of instilling trust with the victim. After this, it's up to Dean to find ways to strengthen that trust, and build an even bigger relationship."

  "Once the relationship is strong, the next step is to lure the victim into a 'lucrative investment'. Normally they offer them the chance to invest a small stake. If they agree, Dean will offer the victim a fake check for a high amount of money the next day, as a result of this investment. Normally, this move spurs the victim on to invest a high portion of their winnings on a much bigger, and better investment. This is when the scam takes place. Once the transaction has been completed, Steve collects the money, and they both leave the victim lost and unaware while they move on to another state, to commit another scam."

  "That explains why the check was declined by my bank." I speak softly with a distant voice.

  Despite the thickness in my throat, and the onset of tears from reading the official organization of this scam, I find myself pleading with Dean's mug shot on the wall. Why me? Why?! I thought we had something real, Dean.

  Not wanting to stop begging at Dean's picture, I force myself to scour for more information on the pin-up board. Other than the pictures of Dean, Steve, and the one picture of us both at lunch today, I see no more worthwhile information. I walk slowly over to Jess's bed with a stiffened posture, and sit down. With a longing gaze, I try to consume everything I've just read. I feel like an empty shell, all lost, and alone. Then all of a sudden, a thought comes to my head.

  Why have they not been arrested yet!?

  I usher off the bed with crossed eyebrows, and begin ransacking every draw and folder in the room in search of answers. In between my rummaging around, I glance up frequently at the pin-up board, just in case I missed something. As I scramble to my knees, a folder catches the corner of my right eye. I glance at it, and the folder has "Morgan Brothers - Testimony" capitalized on it. With a strong lunge, I reach over and open the folder.

  In it is more photographs of them both, and a sheet of paper, with both Jess and Steve's signatures. I yank it out and drop the folder before making my way to sit back down on the bed. My eyes suddenly start to bulge.

  I skim past the unimportant parts, and read the small statement at the bottom:

  "I, Steven Morgan, agree to testify in the 'Morgan Brothers case', dating back four years to present, in exchange of a plea deal, which was agreed in the State of Nevada on the 16th July."

  16th July? This was done like, ten days ago! I try to rummage around for more details regarding this plea deal, but I cannot find anything. Despite the resentment and hatred I am feeling towards Dean right now, I start to wonder if he even knows about this. I knew there was something about that Steve guy!

  I spring back off the bed, and look at the board again. With squinting eyes, I scan for anything that might resemble a testimony or plea deal. While analyzing the board, I notice a small, brown post-it note at the bottom corner that I failed to notice when I looked at it earlier. I inspect it further, and spot the word "Trap" written at the top of it. With my right hand, I peel the note off from the board, and start reading it. Before long, I take in a huge gasp.

  It states that the trap is set to ambush Dean today at his hotel suite when he walks in with the money that he picked up from Steve earlier. I'm left speechless. A whirlwind of emotions course throughout my body, which in turn renders me still, and stiff. I'm struggling to take in everything. Dean lying to me? Dean being set up? Jess not telling me anything?

  The smallest part of me is relieved that the scam has been caught by the police, and I will get my money back, but the much larger, more prominent part of me wants a different type of justice. I want Dean to pay for this, but even more so, his sick brother who has set him up. I don't know whether this is denial, but a part of me hopes there is some truth in Dean's deception, because things just felt too real between us. I sense my palms becoming warm and sweaty
as I stare helplessly at the note.

  I let out a painful exhale.

  The inner turmoil is killing me right now. I ache in every corner of my body. The sensations are indescribable and torturous. The reality that I have been fooled into a false sense of security and even had my body used by someone who I thought to be genuine, is a blow too great. Every ounce of my trust has been violated, leaving me feeling worthless and sick.

  As if my money wasn't enough! But why would he buy me an expensive necklace if this was all a plan? Im so confused! That was never mentioned in that sheet of paper on the board! I wish I had someone here with me right now, someone honest and caring. I kneel back down on the floor to cry, but no tears surface. I take in some slow methodical breaths to compose myself, despite the throbbing headache I have pulsating in my head. Another shooting thought surfaces in my mind. How the hell did Jess manage to get that picture of me and Dean at lunch today on her pin-up board so quick?

  In the process of standing up to look at the photo, I hear my kneecaps crackle. Unconcerned about the sound, I push forward, towards the pin-up board to ensure the picture is definitely of me and Dean. I cannot take any chances with information right now, everything feels so surreal and fictitious that I struggle to question what is real, and what isn't.

  Just as I assumed, it is a picture of us. We had that lunch like literally a couple of hours ago! This means that she must have been and left here not too long ago, which suggests that the trap might not have happened yet. Fueled by the right and wrong emotions, I launch myself out of Jess's room and into mine, in search for my cell phone.

  While ransacking my handbag on the bed, I grasp my phone and stare at it while it rests in my shaking palm. With my spare hand, I start rubbing my chin anxiously. I want to call Dean, to tell him he's a finished man and that he is going to be arrested, but at the same time, I want to confront him myself. Still fixating on the phone, I decide to go ahead and call Dean. Before hitting the dialer button, I pause unexpectedly. I should just let him get busted by the police, it's the least he deserves! But, there is something very strong inside, telling me to confront him now, because I might not ever get another opportunity to do so.

  With one punch of my thumb on the phone's touchscreen, I call Dean, braced to confront the cold-hard truth.

  As a few rings go by with no answer, images of him being in custody circulate around my head.

  "Hey, baby! What's up?" He answers, jolting me out of my vivid thoughts.

  "What you doing?" I ask with a low-pitched voice as my chin trembles.

  He doesn't reply for a few seconds. "Just about to leave for that meeting, why?"

  "Quit lying, we both know you're not heading to a meeting. Have you just collected the money from Steve?" I reply lifelessly.

  Another few seconds of silence come between us. I sense my lungs constrict more and more as the quietness prolongs.

  "Dana, what are you on about? I thought we agreed to leave all this paranoia stuff in the past?" He replies faintly.

  "Don't Dana me! Just tell the truth for once in your life, Dean Morgan."

  He lets out a defeated sigh. "What the fuck Dana? Wait... let me explain --"

  "There's no need to explain you lying, disgusting excuse of a man. Everything I need to know is staring right at me. Mug shots of you and your assistant, oh whoops, I mean your brother, the scam, the testimony, the lot! --"

  "What testimony?!" He interrupts assertively.

  "Oh, you don't know? Your brother, Steven, agreed to testify in exchange for a plea deal ten days ago. I thought you would have known that? Looks like I am not the only one being lied to and played here" I respond coldly, fully intending to hurt him the same way he's hurt me.

  His lack of acknowledgment causes a deafening silence to occur. It gets to the point where I check the screen of my phone to make sure he is still on the line.

  "You're going to prison, Dean. That's a fact. But, before you go to your new home, you owe me answers for why you did what you did. I trusted you with everything. Everything!" I break the silence.

  He lets out another sigh, but struggles to string together a sentence.

  "For a guy that can talk the talk, you're sure struggling to spit something out." I dig further.

  "Dana, you have no... look... I can't speak about this over the phone. I need to get back to the hotel quickly to grab some stuff, then I will tell you everything!"

  "Don't waste your time. The cops are already there waiting for you. By the way, you won't be explaining your dirty little secrets to me over the phone, you'll be telling them to my face in a court of law!" I yell.

  "Cops? Court? What?" He spits out with a more angered tone to his voice. "Wait, please! Let me come to you then, Dana! I'm begging you. Are you at your sister's house?" He asks.

  "What does it matter? You won't make it here in time. Cops are probably watching you right now as we speak." I respond shallowly.

  "Please, let me come over and explain my side of the story." His voice shrinks.

  Despite the knot in my stomach over the prospect of facing him, I respond bluntly. "If you try anything, then you're a dead man. I'm at my sister's place, you know, the one where you dropped me off to on the day I was "attacked" by your brother?"

  He lets out another defeated sigh, now knowing there is no hiding from the truth. "Thank you, Dana. But one thing, how do I know there are no cops there with you right now?"

  I take in a deep breath, and exhale. "Because cops won't allow me to point a gun at your head while I get my answers from you."

  Chapter 2

  I'm staring down at the open draw, gazing at Dean's gun in my room. The thing frightens me. I take in a slow breath and gently pick it up. I don't intend to use it, but it's clear that I don't know who Dean really is, so who's to say he won't try something when he gets here? I feel stupid for allowing him to come here, but I need answers to questions that might not be asked in a court of law.

  While holding the gun, this whole situation becomes more and more real. Never was this a thought of mine. What 23 year old does this? Me. It just seems as though life has dealt me a shitty hand of cards. Could I ever trust another man again? I don't think so. That's what I'm most angry about with Dean, the one man that managed to restore my trust in men, has now taken it away again, and in the process has tarnished every guy, good or bad, on this planet forever.

  I snap myself out of my wandering thoughts and remind myself of the situation. Dean could be here at any moment, that's if he doesn't get arrested before that. With the gun firmly, but cautiously, gripped in my right hand, I turn to leave the room and make my way downstairs. I question whether I should keep the gun, or hide it somewhere here. I think I'm going to keep it. He might have another one that I don't know about.

  While sitting on the bottom step of the staircase waiting for Dean, I rehearse what I'm going to do and say when he gets here. Should I call the police once I'm done with him? Do I keep the gun on me at all times?

  My eyes close, and my head sinks as I reflect on the day we met. He was so nice and genuine! And, so was I! Why didn't he just abort this scam? He knew how damaged I was from my past, and he still continued to pursue it. That just shows how cold, and emotionless he really is. Sadness is soon replaced by rage. I want him to pay for what he's done!

  I glance at the front door and notice a letter that I must have walked past when I got back in. I stand to fetch the mail, assuming it's for Jess. As I go to place it on the table where the house phone is, I see that it's addressed to me. This is strange. I rarely get mail. I place the gun on the table and open it up. As I pull the letter from the envelope, I notice that it's from the downtown police department. It's a crime reference sheet that summarizes the crime and date of when I was attacked. What a joke! I feel like such a fool for even going in there, now knowing that the whole thing was one big set up. I place the letter with the gun on the table and head back to sit on the bottom stair of the staircase again.

 
; I find myself gazing endlessly at the floor again, laughing in disbelief over the whole thing. All of a sudden, the sound of footsteps running behind the front door and a glimpse of a shadow catches my attention. Before I look up to face the door, a fast banging noise forces me up off the staircase. It's him. I try to swallow, but my mouth is so dry that it is impossible to do so. Adrenaline has ignited in me, and all my rehearsed plans go out the window as I edge towards the door.

  I pick the gun back up from the table and use my left arm to conceal it behind me. With one deep breath, I open up the door and I am immediately greeted by a face I have never seen Dean wear before. He has a look of a condemned man on his colorless face. I step backwards, not saying a word, to signal him to come in. He walks in gingerly, with his head facing the floor. As I close the door, I quickly swing my body around and point the gun at him.

  He looks up in shock and raises both his hands in the air. "Dana...what the fuck are you doing? Put it down!"

  "What does it look like I'm doing, Dean Morgan?" I reply with piercing eyes and an angry voice.

  His eyes close slowly, knowing he has no explanation to explain his sinful lies. "Please, let me explain."