Slaughter Series

by A. I. Nasser

  The woman’s smile widened, and Peter Anderson fell in love. For a split second, he knew he would do anything this woman ever asked him to. “Actually, I’m meeting a few friends,” she said. “I hope that’s not too much to ask.”

  Peter quickly shook his head. “Not too much at all,” he coughed. “When do you need to be there?”

  “If we could leave right now, that would be great,” Victoria said.

  “Are you sure you don’t want coffee first?” he asked, risking a smile of his own, hoping his charm might make him seem less of a klutz than he felt.

  Victoria pouted. “I’m in a real hurry,” she said. “My friends are waiting.”

  Peter hesitated, suddenly unsure of what he was doing, sensing something bitter suddenly creep into her tone. For an instant, something felt terribly off.

  Victoria saw the look on his face, and before he knew it, she had a hand on his thigh and was leaning in to whisper in his ear. “I can make it worth your while.”

  Peter Anderson was instantly on his feet and leading the woman in red out of the diner and into his truck.

  Chapter 1

  Sally Brians knew ‘green’ the minute she saw it. Ten years as an agent at the FBI and constantly in the field, she had become quite adept at reading people and making solid first impressions. It was a skill that rarely failed her, and she quickly learned to trust those instincts. Today was no exception, and sitting across from the Melington Sheriff, watching the young woman sift through a pile of paperwork, she could instantly smell the inexperience.

  The Sheriff looked up and Sally was quick to flash a reassuring smile. She had been sitting in the office for almost two hours, slowly losing patience as what passed for law enforcement in this town tried to bring her up to speed. It was a critical case, one that had most of her superiors constantly breathing down her neck, and Sally Brians hated that she had to be exceptionally courteous to get what she wanted.

  “I’m sorry this is taking so long,” Alexandra Bail smiled sheepishly. “We’ve only been going through this mess for a week, and it’s almost impossible to make sense of any of it.”

  “That’s alright, I’m perfectly fine with waiting,” Sally lied, hoping that her tone didn’t give her away.

  “I’ll be honest,” Alexandra said. “I really didn’t expect the FBI, although I probably shouldn’t be surprised, what with the riot and all.”

  “It’s really the missing children we’re worried about,” Sally said. “We’ve had a kidnapping that’s directly linked to Melington, and the fact that there has been a bunch of missing person reports hidden away doesn’t make it any better.”

  Alexandra sighed and lowered the file in her hand. “You have to excuse me, Agent Brians, but this has all been a little overwhelming. There’s so much that needs to be settled, and I’ve been getting very little help from the people supposedly involved in all this.”

  “You mean the Council?”

  Alexandra nodded. “It’s not as simple as we’d like it to be. Every single person implicated in this is either dead or missing.”

  Sally remembered her debriefing. Before making her way to Melington, she had been given a list of names to keep an eye out for, and it had been quite frustrating finding out that not one of those names were available for questioning. No one knew where Rachel Adams was; Fiona Bright had disappeared a few hours after the riot had been brought under control; and Michael Cole had been reported missing for days now.

  “Are we sure that nobody else in the Council is implicated in any of this?” Sally asked, fishing for any straw she could grab onto.

  Alexandra shook her head. “The last time I talked to our Chairman, he had assured me no one had known anything about all this.”

  Sally felt the frustration creep in. She knew the town was prone to keeping secrets. Most small towns were, in her opinion, but this one had a lot more sinister skeletons in its closet. The riots had brought down the masks, and the ugly face of Melington was now out in the open for all to see.

  Alexandra closed the file in her hands and pushed it towards Sally, sighing in dismay. “I am more than willing to be as cooperative as needed, Agent Brians. All I can say for sure is that there’s still a lot of work to do, and no one really has any idea what was going on behind the scenes.”

  Sally eyed the file in front of her. “I won’t find anything in here, will I?”

  “I don’t think so,” Alexandra replied. “There’s no concrete evidence that links Fiona Bright to anything. It’s simply speculation and assumptions for now. Unless we can bring anybody in for questioning, we’re shooting in the dark.”

  Sally stood up and adjusted her blazer, reaching out and shaking the Sheriff’s hand. “Thank you for your time, Sheriff,” she said. “I’ll be staying at the Woodline Motel if anything should come up.”

  Alexandra smiled. “I wish I could have been of more help.”

  “Actually,” Sally said, “it would be extremely helpful if I could take a look at the Cole house.”

  “Without a warrant, that won’t be possible,” Alexandra replied. “However, I think I can give the family a call and see what I can do. I know them personally, and I doubt they’ll have any problems with it if it could shed light on what happened to Michael Cole.”

  Sally thanked her and walked out of the station, avoiding the curious gazes of the other officers as she left. She knew what they were thinking; it was rare for her to show up anywhere and not be met with scorn and intimidation. She was used to it, though, and it hardly fazed her anymore. For now, all she was thinking about was the case, and from the look of it, she was going to be in Melington for a long time.

  ***

  Fiona Bright pushed through the doors of the bar and quickly scanned her surroundings. She pulled up the collar of her jacket and made sure her cap was pulled down low enough to hide her features, hoping that she didn’t stand out as much as she felt she did. It was hard keeping a low profile, especially when your face was plastered all over the news, and it was all very new to her. She wasn’t used to being on the run.

  Making her way to the bar, she sat in a stool and glanced briefly at the television hanging on the wall above the drinks. The news was on, but thankfully muted, and she took refuge in the notion that hardly anyone was paying attention to anything other than the drink in their hands.

  “What can I get you?”

  Fiona looked at the pretty bartender, her hair tied back in a ponytail and her sleeves folded up to right below the elbows. She emitted an air of authority, and Bright immediately recognized her as the owner.

  “Scotch,” Fiona said, pulling out the burner phone she had picked up a few stops back.

  The bartender nodded, briefly hesitating before walking away to get Fiona her drink. She watched her carefully, making sure the woman hadn’t recognized her, and only felt herself loosen up when the bartender began pouring her the drink.

  Fiona sighed as she flipped through the short list of contacts on her phone. The last week had been brutal, and she had become extremely paranoid with every passing day. Her first stop had been outside Hartford where she had spent three nights locked away in a motel room, her eyes wide as she stared at the news and her picture plastered beside footage of the riot.

  She was the most wanted person in Connecticut right now, and it kept her awake far into the night; a hand on her gun and her eyes on the motel room door. She cursed the Council for throwing her under the bus, letting her take the fall for everything that had happened. She knew that it was only a matter of time before the missing children were linked to her. She had been too ambitious, and right now, she was paying for it dearly.

  The bartender placed her drink in front of her and left her alone, only stopping long enough to turn up the volume on the television.

  “The truth is, Johnny, the town’s top brass have lied to these poor families, and it was only a matter of time before the people lashed out.”

  Fiona looked up at the television in al
arm, immediately recognizing David Whelm with his smug smile and cheap suit.

  “You don’t feel that this was a little too much, though?” the talk show host asked, obviously uncomfortable with David sitting in his studio. It was apparent David Whelm had very few friends in the television industry. “In a way, Stanley Turk used his daughter’s disappearance to start a riot that tore the poor town apart.”

  Whelm smiled haughtily, adjusting his suit jacket. “That poor town you’re talking about has been responsible for covering up dozens of kidnappings in the past few years, and probably a lot more before that. What’s to say that the police themselves hadn’t been involved in the kidnappings?”

  “You can’t be serious? Don’t you think that’s a little farfetched?”

  David scoffed. “Johnny, I personally met Sheriff Fiona Bright, and believe me when I say you can’t put anything past that woman. She’s as cold as they come, and I can assure you she’s had support from higher up.”

  “Rachel Adams?”

  David nodded. “Do you think it’s a coincidence that the two of them disappeared at the same time? I’m sure the former Chairman had a hand in all this.”

  “But what for? What was the end game?”

  “Power,” David replied, leaning in as if he had just shared a deep secret with the world. “I believe it was a way to keep the townspeople preoccupied. Just look at how much Melington had grown over the past few years. Are you trying to tell me that there isn’t any corruption involved?”

  The host laughed. “We’re going to have to be careful, here. Those are some serious allegations, and we don’t want any more riots breaking out, do we?”

  Whelm sat back and dusted the pant of his suit. “Let it happen, Johnny. That town deserves to be burnt to the ground.”

  Fiona downed her drink and threw a few bills onto the bar, unable to take any more of what she was watching. David Whelm had become an over-night sensation after his story came out, a day by day recount of everything that had led up to the riots. He had already developed a following, hailed as the hero who had unveiled the horrors of the small Connecticut town. Fiona knew the truth, though, and if anyone was supposed to take the fall for what had happened other than her, it was David Whelm.

  Fiona rushed across the small parking lot to where she had parked her car, far enough into the shadows so no one could see it. She slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door behind her, furiously punching at the dashboard as she screamed out in rage. She couldn’t believe that after all these years, this was what it had all come down to.

  Fiona tried to calm herself, her hands wrapped tight around the steering wheel, taking in deep breaths and slowly letting them out. She sat back in her seat and looked up at the rearview mirror.

  “What the hell are you looking at?” she asked the woman sitting silently in the back seat.

  Rachel Adams didn’t reply.

  Fiona gunned the car’s engine, shifted into reverse, and quickly backed out of the parking lot.

  ***

  “Are you sure we’re safe here?”

  Alan Carter stood in the center of the apartment and took in his surroundings, smiling as he remembered the days he had spent here before moving back to Melington. This had been his base, his makeshift headquarters that had once been decorated with pictures of missing children, police reports and research notes. The furnishing was scant, just enough for the minimal amount of comfort he had needed, but he knew that neither Deborah nor Kathrine would mind for now.

  Everything was as he remembered it, and he didn’t need to look in the refrigerator to know it was stacked with enough groceries to keep them going for the next few days before they moved on. He had called his housekeeper a day before and had made sure she had prepared the apartment for a few days of isolation. He made a mental note to pay her a little extra for her efforts.

  “For now,” Alan replied, nodding as he dropped his bag on the floor and made his way to the single bedroom. He would have to sleep on the couch for the next few nights, but he didn’t mind. All that mattered now was that they keep moving, and comfort would not be a very good motivator.

  “This place is tiny,” he heard Kathrine say.

  His sister had said very little since they had left the small town, and Alan was glad that she was slowly coming out of her shell. He knew how hard all of this must be for her, and despite his eagerness to share his entire life with her, he honored Deborah’s request to take things slow. Besides, with everything going on, he had no problems keeping himself preoccupied with getting them somewhere far and safe.

  “You stayed here?”

  Alan turned and smiled at Deborah as he watched her frown at the yellowing walls and washed out colors of the carpets. “It wasn’t much, but it was home,” he said.

  “Must have been lonely.”

  “I didn’t really think of it, to be honest,” Alan said with a chuckle. “My obsessions kept me busy.”

  Deborah smiled sadly at him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You know what? I bet this was one hell of a bachelor pad, back in the day.”

  “Oh yeah,” Alan said. “I was all about the parties and women.”

  Deborah smacked his shoulder and pushed him away.

  “We’ll be fine here for a few days,” Alan said, trying to be a little more serious. “You and Kathrine take the bed; I’ll be fine on the couch.”

  “Positive?”

  Alan nodded. “Besides, we won’t be here for very long.”

  Deborah had been surprisingly supportive of the sudden uprooting, not thinking twice about leaving everything behind. She had voiced her concerns about her mother a few times, but was sensible enough to wait until they were well across state lines before attempting any contact. She was risking everything by being with them, and he loved her for how courageous she was in the midst of it all.

  Alan knew that he was asking too much of her, but he also knew that being anywhere near Melington would not be safe for them. There was no telling how Copper would react to his recent transgression, and he had no intention of waiting to find out. His father’s home in Maine was their best option right now.

  “We’re not too far away,” Deborah said as if reading his mind. “We could just keep going until we get to Bangor.”

  “I know,” Alan replied, “but we still need to keep a low profile. You saw the news. I wouldn’t be surprised if they start looking for us as well.”

  “The FBI?” Deborah asked. “Even if, what makes you think they won’t find us in Maine?”

  “It’s not the FBI I’m worried about.”

  Deborah nodded in understanding and kissed his cheek. “I’ll make sure Kathrine settles in.”

  Alan gave her a reassuring smile and watched her leave, slumping down on his old bed with a sigh. He could only pray he was making the right decision.

  FBI Report

  Joanne Pullici

  Joanne Pullici, 12 Vincent Drive, Darville, Connecticut

  I own a bar on Main Street, which used to belong to my father.

  No, I had never heard of Melington before. We get visitors from all over Connecticut, but people rarely come to Darville because of our hospitality. New faces are usually the faces of people running away.

  The news. When the riots broke out. I was working in the bar that night and saw everything on TV. I doubt there was anybody there who had heard of the town before that.

  Sure, but only after the riots. I was told that the missing children cases went back for years.

  Victor Fanning. He was a doctor at Melington Hospital. I didn’t know that until later.

  He had been coming in for six months, give or take. Always stayed in a corner of the bar, quiet, alone, and he liked it that way. We get a lot of people like him, but they never last very long.

  Once, right after the riots. He told me his story, everything about what he had done, the missing children, and the Council involvement. He was really devastated by the riots.

  I did
n’t think anything of it. People come to hide from their past all the time. It wasn’t my place to do anything about that or share what he had told me. I work at a bar. It’s very much like confession for some people.

  I know, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s not my place. Besides, as much as I could tell, he hadn’t done anything wrong, and no one was looking for him.

  No, I didn’t know for sure if anyone was looking for him.

  Yes, Agent Brians did ask me about my involvement with him, but at first I didn’t know she was with the FBI.

  She introduced herself as a Detective.

  No, I didn’t ask to see a badge.

  A few weeks later, when she showed up at my bar again.

  After Fanning’s suicide, she had left me her card. A few weeks later, Fiona Bright walked into my bar, had a drink, and left. She was dressed inconspicuously, but by then I had started watching a lot of news and could tell it was her.

  Yes, but the Sheriff didn’t seem to care much about it. Darville is a slow town, and we rarely want to get involved in anything. Which is probably why the Sheriff didn’t seem to care.

  Of course. It’s in Connecticut, after all. There’s always something going on in every small town in Connecticut.

  I saw Agent Brians again when she met with Alan Carter at my bar.

  No, I didn’t think there was anything to it. At that point, I thought I had called the right person.

  No, I didn’t know what they were talking about, or what they intended to do either. I only found out when everyone else around the country did.

  I own a bar. I’m not psychic.