“Do you think any of that matters to the Riccis? Even if I was a good cop, they would still kill us for simply doing our jobs and stopping them from doing illegal activity in the city.”
Ron was right about my deep-seated hatred for him, but I had never heard him like that before. Even during his arrest and the trial he was always so calm and collected.
“Sounds like a problem for the police, Ron, why don’t you call them? I’m sure they would love to help you.”
“You know I can’t do that, kid.”
I kicked myself internally for what I was about to do. “Okay, Ron, why do you think the Riccis are trying to kill you?”
“Well, the other day I was...oh no I think someone’s here. You gotta get over here right now, and help me, Brandon. You’re all I got.”
The call ended and I knew he was serious since he’d just called me by my real name. Even though I despised Ron, I couldn’t let his death be on my conscience for the rest of my life. God knew I’d already been weighed down with all I could handle. I pulled the loaded nine-millimeter from under my pillow and grabbed my car keys and headed out the door.
Chapter Three
Brandon Farmer
Ron Horn’s Home
I RACED THROUGH THE streets of Black Castle as fast as I could in my beat-up old car. It looked like a piece of junk with the dents and faded blue paint, but it ran well, and that’s all that mattered to me. As I proceeded from the lower end of the city toward the well-to-do suburbs where Ron lived, I kept an eye on all my mirrors just in case I was being tailed. It made perfect sense if the Riccis were after Ron and me, since I was Ron’s partner when he helped the Amaras dismantle the Ricci’s criminal empire in the city. The few low-level Riccis and upper-level guys who escaped arrest or being gunned down in the street wised up and left town before the Amaras finished them all off.
I encountered little traffic as I went down the long winding streets of the back roads I decided to take, but it was a weeknight and after rush hour. The last visible rays of sunlight were almost extinguished by the night sky as I entered the neighborhood where Ron lived. I was sickened by how he was able to live in a place that was way nicer than he deserved when I had to live like a bum. I circled Ron’s street several times and made sure I wasn’t walking into an ambush, but I still parked my car several houses away from his after I felt comfortable enough to walk on foot and knock. Even as I approached his house, I had my hand on my gun in my jacket pocket just in case I was greeted by Ron or anyone else with a gun.
The closer I got to his house, I noticed how immaculate Ron’s front yard looked with full, lush green grass neatly manicured, which coupled well with the bushes that ran along the front. Anyone could tell Ron had spent a pretty penny on landscaping, and I could see he hadn’t changed in his views of not keeping a low profile. He was always vain and enjoyed showing off for others. It was kind of funny seeing how I never learned to switch off my brain from noticing every little detail, or maybe it was all due to my total and utter contempt for the man. I knocked on the door, and I could hear Ron as he tried to quietly check the peephole. He slowly cracked the door open to ensure it was only me on his doorstep.
“Is it just you out there, kid?”
“Yes, but if you don’t let me in, I’m going to kill you myself you piece of trash.” I was risking a lot to be there. If anyone from my past saw me with Ron, they would all think that I was really in on everything he had been doing back then.
Ron opened the door just enough to let me inside, and then he immediately shut and locked it. I hadn’t been to his house since he got out of prison, and it was still decorated way nicer than it should have been for someone of such low moral character. The walls were textured a light orange peel and painted the color of agreeable gray. There were paintings hung on the walls as well as various scenes of nature since Ron fancied himself an outdoorsman. The massive couch and eighty-five-inch flat screen TV that adorned the wall was all new, along with the dining room furniture and kitchen appliances. He had done a lot of updating to his home since he got out of prison, and I didn’t have to think too hard to figure out how he got the money for all of those wonderful things.
I was disgusted by everything I saw, and I couldn’t hold back from letting him know. “Well Ron, I guess crime really does pay.”
Ron turned from looking out the peephole and walked into the kitchen and stood by the large island countertop of black and gray marble. “Not now with all of that, kid. I get that you hate me.”
He still looked the same for the most part. His haired had grayed only slightly more since last time I had seen him, and he still appeared to be in good shape. “Oh, I more than hate you, Ron. Nice track suit, by the way. I mean, could you look any more like a gangster? Do you and the Amaras go clothes shopping together? Do the stores give you guys a group discount?”
“Enough, Brandon, I get it, alright!” Ron pounded his fist on the countertop. “Have you said all you need to say so we can move on to business, or have you been storing up cheap one-liners since last we saw each other? Look, I know there’s someone out there trying to kill me. Like I said, if they’re gunning for me, then they will be coming for you too sooner or later.”
“Well, if someone is out to kill me it’s all because of you.” I glared back at him.
“Get off it already, kid.”
“No! I lost everything because of you. My career, Lizzie, and now I live in a dump while you live in the lap of luxury. I should shoot you myself and save the Riccis the trouble. Who knows? Maybe they’ll reward me for doing them a favor, and I will be able to live in a place like this.”
“Maybe you should, kid, but everything that happened back then isn’t all my fault. If you were half as good at being a detective as you thought yourself to be, then you would have seen what I was doing all along. I didn’t have to call you about this, you know. I could have grabbed my bugout bag and disappeared into the wind, but instead I gave you a heads up as to the danger we are in.”
The part about how I should have known what Ron had been doing when we were partners stung because it was true. However, I wasn’t going to be fooled by the line about him wanting to warn me.
“Okay, Ron, you’re right. I should have known what you were doing all along, so that tells me there is another reason for your warning. Don’t tell me you’ve all of a sudden grown a sense of nobility. Tell me. Why did you call me if you could have run? You sounded pretty convinced on the phone that you were already a dead man, or has being confronted with your own mortality caused you to suddenly grow a conscience?”
Ron’s defensive posture throttled back down to a nervous trembling as he scrambled for something to say. “I told you before, kid, I wanted to do the right thing by you for once and give you a heads up.”
“So noble, but we both know you would turn tail and run if you really thought you were in danger. Using my detective skills tells me that you can’t just take off, because something is stopping you from doing that.”
Ron smirked and looked around the room. “Come on, kid, it’s not like that. I figured it would be like old times, and we can stop these guys.”
“Stop lying! If you want me to help you, you have to be straight with me. You’ve already tried leaving, haven’t you? But you couldn’t, could you?” I asked Ron pointedly. “You knew this day was coming the moment you got arrested back then, and that’s why you testified in open court that you tricked me, and I didn’t know a thing. So, you could use me once again to help you when the Riccis came for the pound of flesh you owe them.”
Ron rubbed his forehead and exhaled in defeat. “Okay, kid, you’re right on both counts. I knew this day would come, and I knew you would help me because you’re a good person at your core.”
“And about the leaving town part?”
“You’re right about that as well, and I’ve tried but I can’t.” He looked away from me.
“There we go. Okay, Ron, why can’t you leave town? What�
�s the matter, running low on dirty money? Are you too afraid to leave all of this behind, and be forced to live like a normal person?”
Ron got up and slightly lifted up one of the slats on the blinds and peered out into his backyard for a moment. Once he was satisfied no one was there, he sat back down at the table.
Ron looked visibly frightened. “It’s not like that, Brandon. Some really weird things have been going on lately. For the last several days I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that I’m being watched.”
“Have you seen anyone following you or watching your house on your many security cameras?”
“That’s just it, I haven’t seen anyone, but I can’t shake the feeling. So, this morning, I thought I’d clean out my safety deposit boxes and get out of town for good, but they were all empty when I checked them. Even the bag I keep hidden in the trunk of my car for emergencies like this was gone,” Ron stood up in a full panic. “Did you hear me, Brandon, it’s all gone!”
Last I checked banks didn’t want people keeping money in safety deposit boxes, but Ron didn’t care about any of that. “Okay. Okay. There has to be some kind of explanation for that. I mean, someone had to have taken your money. The bank keeps logs of when you access your safety deposit boxes, did you ask to see the logs?”
“I did, and the logs show I’m the only one who’s been in them. I demanded to speak to the manager, but the manager at each bank assured me no one else had been in any of the boxes but me.”
“Wait. Banks. How many different boxes did you have? You know what, don’t answer that, I don’t want to know. Did you tell anyone about the safety deposit boxes, or did someone steal your key or make a copy of it?”
Ron spiraled more and more by the second as we talked. “No! No one else knew about the boxes, and I keep the keys on me at all times. There’s no way someone could have made a copy of them and bought off an employee at each bank to let them clean out the boxes. I can understand one or two, but not all of them.”
I started to laugh to myself.
“What’s so funny kid? Does my situation amuse you?”
“A little, but I find the irony to be humorous. God only knows how many people you stole from when you were working for the Amaras, and now you have been robbed blind in the same way.”
“This isn’t funny, kid. Stop laughing, this is serious.”
“Okay, I’ll try and restrain myself. Emptying all those boxes would be a hard one to pull off unless they had been at this for months. Then again, that’s a lot of immoral people willing to break the law. What was the last straw that made you want to call me for help if you were still willing to cut and run without the money from the lock boxes?”
“This afternoon I decided to leave town with what little I had stashed in the trunk of my car. When I checked to see if it was still there and saw it was missing too, I decided to heck with it and I should leave, but my car wouldn’t start. I checked the engine to find it was completely trashed, and it had been sitting in my locked garage all day. Brandon, I’m telling you something is going on. I didn’t see anyone on my outside cameras, and I don’t have cameras inside for obvious reasons.”
Ron was completely spooked, and even I was starting to get worried by the events of his story. Before I grasped the full danger Ron was in, someone knocked on the front door. We both froze where we stood, and Ron pulled a snub nose .357 revolver from his jacket pocket as I pulled out my nine-millimeter from my coat. Ron raised a finger and indicated for me to wait as he checked the doorbell camera app on his phone. He breathed a sigh of relief as he placed the revolver on the kitchen island.
“There’s no one there, but I see some kids out on the sidewalk. They must be knocking on doors and running away, you know stupid kid stuff like we used to do back in the day.”
Before we relaxed fully, another several knocks sounded from the door before I could respond, and I moved to the side just in case a bullet came through next.
Ron looked at his phone. “There’s still no one there, kid. Why don’t you go and see who’s there, will you?”
“Are you crazy, Ron? I’m not getting shot for you. In case you’ve forgotten,” I whispered. “I don’t like you all that much.” I did not want to give away my position to a potential shooter.
Ron looked to be a mix of fear and anger as he picked up his revolver and quietly made his way to the front door. He checked the camera app on his phone several times as he made his way, and then checked the peep hole and the app again before he cracked the door open and yelled at the kids in the street in front of his house to go home before he called the police. I knew he had lost it with that last comment about calling the cops. He would never do that, and if for some reason he did, I didn’t think anyone would come. Our former brothers in blue hated the two of us as much as I hated Ron.
He locked the door again and turned back to me with the look of pride on his face. The look was short lived because it immediately turned to panic as he raised his gun in my direction.
“Ron, what are you doing?” It was all I got out before I was thrown hard into the wall. The drywall crumbled under the force as I was fortunate enough to hit the wall on my side. I crash landed hard on the ground with no air left in my lungs, and I heard Ron fire off all six shots from his revolver. My ears still rang from the shots, even in my dazed state.
When I refocused, Ron was against the front door terrified, and a man in a red business suit stood where I had been. His hands were clad in black leather gloves where he pulled his jacket tight.
The six bullets Ron fired fell to the ground. What kind of body armor did that guy have on? All it seemed to be was a simple red suit and vest with a white dress shirt, black tie, and black dress shoes.
“A gun. Everyone always goes to a gun first to try and save themselves,” the man before me said in an upbeat tone as Ron tried to reload his revolver. “Feel free to take your time and reload your gun properly, Ron. But no matter how many times you fire it at me, it won’t save you.”
My handgun was about a foot away from me. As I reached for it, the man in red pushed it away with his foot and then kicked me in my side. My ribs tightened around my lungs like a vise, as it felt like his leather shoes were made of solid metal. The pain pulsed throughout my body, and even the slightest movement caused it to surge from excruciating to unbearable. I had never experienced that kind of pain before, and I must have shattered several bones or at least cracked my skull to be in that kind of agony.
The man smiled at me, and through my strained eyes I could tell he was enjoying himself. “Now, now Mr. Farmer, that would be a very unhealthy choice for you. Let’s not do anything foolish. I’m not here for you, but make no mistake you are on my list,” he said as he refocused his attention on Ron. “Now, Mr. Horn, the man I have come to see. You have been a very naughty boy.”
Ron fumbled with the speed loader he had pulled from his pocket, but he dropped all the bullets on the floor. “Who are you, and how did you get in here?” Ron shouted at the man dressed in red.
The man straightened his tie, and for the first time, I got a good look at him. He was at least six-five, lean, and with a buzzed head of brown hair.
“I have gone by many names throughout the years, but what has never changed is my function, my task, the reason for which I was created to fulfill.”
“And what is that, nut job?”
“I am a Wrath Walker.”
Ron tried to gauge the distance from the door to the kitchen island.
“What the heck is a Wrath Walker? Is that some new Ricci family position or something?” Ron asked.
“Simple really, and I am not affiliated with the Riccis. For I was created to release God’s wrath on the earth.”
Ron took off toward the kitchen. The Wrath Walker didn’t move a muscle as Ron grabbed the butcher knife from the block.
Ron stood behind the kitchen island and pointed the knife at the Wrath Walker. “You stay back, do you understand me? I’m good wi
th knives, and I don’t mind showing you if you come over here!”
The man who claimed to be a Wrath Walker shrugged off Ron’s threat and continued telling us about himself. “My existence can be explained by Ephesians chapter five, verse six. Let no one deceive you with empty words, for because of these things the wrath of God comes upon the sons of disobedience. Let me just say you have been very disobedient, Mr. Horn.”
“When did the Riccis start employing religious zealots?” Ron said as the Wrath Walker stepped toward him.
“Where you not just listening to a word I said? I told you I work for God, not the Riccis. I am the embodiment of his wrath.” The Wrath Walker’s lighthearted demeanor turned serious in an instant. “I see you have finally pulled out your favorite weapon. Are you going to cut me up like you did those sweet old ladies the Amaras told you to just because they wouldn’t sell their houses to them?”
Ron looked as shocked as I did while I laid on the ground still fully incapacitated from the Wrath Walker’s attack. I remembered Ron and I investigated a series of murders of elderly people who all lived in the same area. The murderer stabbed them all to death, and many of them suffered severely before they died. We never found who did those awful murders, and just as fast as the murders started, they suddenly stopped.
“Your payment for their deaths was this house you have so greatly enjoyed. The fruits of your despicable, and horrible labors.”
Ron looked more than terrified as the Wrath Walker revealed his transgressions. “You were the one who cleaned out my safety deposit boxes.”
“Yes, I took everything from you, and kept you from fleeing, so I could meet with you and Mr. Farmer this evening.” The Wrath Walker looked down at his watch and nodded. “Now, the time has come for you to pay for your sins with your life.”
The Wrath Walker was in front of Ron in the blink of an eye and lifted him off the ground by his jacket with one hand. Ron stabbed the knife into the neck of the Wrath Walker, and the blade curled over like rolled-up tin foil. Ron dropped it and struggled as he began to beg for his life. I had to do something to try and save him, so I pushed through the pain and crawled to my gun.
The Wrath Walker (The Wrath Series Book 1) Page 3