“My God, girl, do you know the contents of this envelope you just handed to me…once these plans are put into effect, I’m sure a lot of heads are likely to roll,” he said. “You have done a great service for the state, Miss. Benson; you have proved as faithful a friend as your uncle. I would escort you to your home, but I’m sure you are aware of the difficulties which prevent me from doing so. I would urge you, however, to hasten to the medics and dress your injured hand.”
“Colonel Baggot,” Helen said impulsively. “If you see Mr. Gray soon, would you…” Emotion suddenly choked her throat.
“Yes, Miss. Benson?”
“Would you kindly give him my best regards?” she finished lamely.
“No need for that, you could do so on your own.” A voice was heard from the door. Rodney Gray was standing there, large as ever, with a broad grin on his face.
Helen’s face brightened, her greeting was formal, the ensuing conversation between the three of them trivial and wholly noncommittal.
At length, Baggot rose. “I hope you young people will excuse me for a little while,” he said. “I have some papers I must look through.”
Cunning old Baggot! Helen thought. He is trying to make a lady spy out of me. On leaving the room, Colonel Baggot all but winked at her. Quite obviously, he thought that alone with Rodney she may have a lot of things to express.
Helen gasped and moved quickly towards him. A joyous glow filled her, yet her lip was quivering, and her eyes misting over tearfully. Her heart was near to bursting with love for him, and with gratitude for his return to her.
Rodney was in a trance, and staring at her. “I must be dreaming,” he murmured huskily. “Helen, here?”
“Yes, I’m here, Rodney. All the complications are over for the time being. What matters is that you are safe.”
“Yes, thanks to you and your uncle, I could never forget your hospitality,” he said, taking her hand and noticing that she was bleeding slightly. “Oh, my God, you are bleeding, let’s go and get it dressed, and then you can use my billet to rest.”
“Getting my injured hand dressed is okay, but resting in your billet? Only if you keep me company,” she informed him.
Chapter 6
Rodney shoved the room door open with his foot, remembering as he did so that none of the armed service personnel were there to disturb them. He sniffed the air warily. It must be his own sweat and sexuality that he smelled. His passion died as he eased quietly into bed next to Helen.
Rodney’s tensed nerves gave him an excuse for his quiet mood in the morning, and he noticed that Helen was also subdued.
“Will you escort me home, Rodney?” Her innocent eyes were fixed on his face, and he had to look away. He needed time to think things over.
“Why don’t we stay here until nightfall, and get the Colonel to give us some cover until we reach your home? How about it, Helen? Sound okay to you?”
She nodded morosely. She was all for moving on, or as she thought of it, getting away from the headquarters.
Helen pouted. She hoped to stay at home and get Rodney alone again, when he was relaxed. She figured that it would be easier to do what she wanted there than elsewhere. But when they talked it over, Rodney cheerfully voted against her. He wanted a return engagement as much as she did, but being a man of action; he hadn’t worked out all the angles yet.
‘That’s what we are here for, isn’t it?” he said. “To relax and calm our nerves?”
Helen was nothing if not persistent. “Come on, Rodney, let’s make love!” Her eyes danced, and she smiled beguilingly. “I cut my hand on the gravel, Rodney. Would you put a Band-Aid on it?” Helen was afraid her excuse was too transparent; surely Rodney would take her to the medics. But to her hidden delight, he drew close to her.
When Helen turned to put the bandages back, her arms lifted to reach the upper cupboard, he pounced.
“Got you, Helen!” he said playfully, reaching around and cupping big handfuls of plump breasts. He was so close to her warmth, he could rub his crotch suggestively against her bottom. “Uummmhh,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck, “You smell so good, Helen!”
Helen couldn’t move for a moment. She’d been calm, almost icily so, until he touched her…and then her senses flamed with an intensity which scared her.
“No, no,” she said weakly. Then, as Rodney pulled her even tighter and slipped his hand inside her jeans she tried to pull her thoughts together and ignore her fast wetting pussy.
She felt like a heroine for protesting weakly while his hands were still drawing her hips forward, and his panting breath fanned her face.
“I don’t think it’s a bright idea,” she said stubbornly.
“Why not? I can’t see why you can’t do it with me here.”
“Ooooff!” Shocked, she sat down on the bed, and looked at the closed door. They fell toward each other, and toward the floor. Her hands raced to get rid of her jeans, while Rodney’s clothes simply seemed to vanish. It couldn’t have taken a minute and a half before he was mounting her; it was a repeat performance of an earlier time. His hard prick kept rubbing against her inner walls, wet and slick and grasping. He toyed with her tits, kissed them, and sucked them, and kissed her mouth, chewing her pert lips, and ramming his rock hard prick in and out on a languid erotic journey of lust.
Helen bucked like a bronco, helping him, her soft silky hips a blur of movement. They came quickly, explosively, and only then could they get away, up off the floor into the bed, laughing at the longest two hours they’d ever known.
“Oh my God,” she sighed, her eyes misty.
Rodney’s eyes were fixed on her. Hers were glued to the huge shaft that bobbled in front of him. Her juices seeped out freely, and she trembled with excitement. She arranged herself more comfortably on the bed, and widened the V of her legs, her eyes glittering with anticipation as he climbed on top of her.
“I was just thinking,” she whispered, “of that time at home.”
“Yeah, my thoughts were the same, because I feel the same way right this minute.” His pulsing fleshy shaft slid between her labia, up into her tight warm passage. “It was really thrilling, too,” he said, and began to slam her.
Everything looked brighter to Rodney the next few hours. After a good sex session with Helen, a few hours relaxed, and a couple of decent meals, he thought he could tackle anything. Anyhow, he hoped so. Then he heard the news from the Colonel that he had made arrangements for Helen’s safe passage home.
“Let’s go, honey,” he said, turning to Helen and playfully ruffling her hair.
“Ooohh yesss!” she sighed, and rolled her eyes at the Colonel. Military personnel were sure hard to understand. She just knew them, and sympathized with their problems.
Quest for Justice
Summary
Are you looking for murder, intrigue, and mystery, hungry for a new hero? Then it’s time that you met Detective Tammy Williams! Quest for Justice by Kames Kipling is a traditional detective story full of twists and turns that packs a big punch!
Detective Tammy Williams is an up and coming young detective searching for an exciting assignment when a strange man walks in and confesses… To being the Minot Hacker! The Minot Hacker is a legendary serial killer whose crimes had been relegated to the basement cold case files. Tammy interviews the man and suspects that he might be lying, not quite believing the killer would walk in and confess on the very night the town is observing the twentieth anniversary of the unsolved Minot murder mystery.
Calling a meeting of the surviving family members, she prepares to announce the true identity of the Minot Hacker! Who could it be? If you love detective novels, you’re going to have to put aside some time for Quest for Justice!
After her success solving the Minot Hacker case, Tammy is quickly assigned another cold case. Tammy must use all her detective skills to work her way through this challenging cold case. However, bringing the suspect to justice proves more
complicated than she imagined. Will Tammy solve the mystery? Or will the killer get away with murder?
Chapter 1
Deep in the woods of Minot, North Dakota, a rabbit hopped out of a bush and over to a small puddle for a drink of water. Although it was a hot summer’s day, the many trees blocked the light from reaching the puddle, preventing it from evaporating into the hazy air, so the ground was still rather moist. The rabbit sat by the puddle for several minutes, taking occasional sips of water, watching the world go by, the flying insects, the creepy crawlies, and the leaves waving in the gentle breeze. Nothing at all could be heard, nothing but distant sounds of life outside the woods, and the tiny movements of other life forms nearby.
All of a sudden, the peace and tranquility of this normal day in nature was disturbed by a group of young people rushing to get out. The rabbit, alerted by the sounds of the hasty footsteps, leaped into the undergrowth, away from the apparent danger. Four people rushed past, and the rabbit watched in safety as they passed. They ran silently and said nothing. Slowly, the rabbit emerged and returned to the puddle. Looking towards the distance, it continued to watch the four people running as fast as they could, dodging among the trees.
The year is 1992. The week after that strange occurrence, a group of friends gathered in Minot’s main housing project. This housing area was fairly rundown, and many of the houses were boarded up due to the violence and drug dealing in the area. However, this did not stop a group of seventeen-year olds from leaving their homes during the day or night. Five boys and two girls stood outside, standing around, doing very little, as teenagers do. Four of the boys – Josh, Steven, Daniel and Richard – were the best of friends. They had always been together since childhood, and they were always seen together whenever they left their homes. Monica and Laura, the two girls, were good friends, but not best friends. In fact, the only thing that connected them was the other boy, John. He lived down the street, and stood outside his house today, wondering what on Earth he was doing, talking to the other boys. Monica was John’s cousin, and Laura was a friend, or a potential love interest perhaps.
“So, are you going out with your girlfriend today, John?” asked Steven, mocking John and Laura for being such good friends.
“Shut up, Steven!” Laura cried, determined not to let him get to her.
“Don’t start on me!” shouted Steven, not wanting to be shown up in front of his friends.
“Alright, alright,” Monica said, trying to calm everyone down before yet another fight started.
“My mother would not like you saying those things,” said John, who was scarcely able to control himself.
There was silence, and both Monica and Laura began staring at John. The four other boys burst into laughter.
“That’s not funny,” said Laura. “You’re all sick for laughing at such a thing!”
“He’s such a weirdo!” cried Richard.
“No, he’s not, said Laura, moving closer to John.
“Are you two together forever?” laughed Daniel.
Laura was outraged by now. She did not want anyone to hurt John. She was in love with him. Monica saw this, but she cared about other things too much, and had let it slip from her mind.
“Why are you standing there doing nothing, John?” Monica cried, trying to get her cousin to fight back.
John just stood there, motionless. He did not know what to do. He had never once considered or planned what to do should this situation arise in life, so he had to be spontaneous, and he stood and thought, doing nothing else.
“For once in your life, just stand up to them! And Richard, you should be ashamed of yourself!” Monica added, looking at Richard. “I thought we were friends!”
Richard continued to laugh. “I’m sure you’ll get over it by tomorrow!” he said, winking at her.
The boys then decided to leave, having grown bored with messing around with a social outcast, especially since they couldn’t get a reaction from him. When they left, Monica knew she had to do something to settle John down, so she started a new conversation.
“Anyway,” said Monica, “are you thinking of coming to my friend’s mother’s wedding anniversary in a few days?”
“I don’t know,” replied Laura. “I don’t really know them that well.”
“I suppose, but there is also Mr. Brown’s 100th birthday on the same night, so it is going to be very busy! Almost everyone in Jackson Road will turn up!”
“I’m not sure. I might be working yet!”
“What? You’re working now?”
“Yes!” cried a proud Laura. “I think so, anyway. I’ve been looking for some work experience recently, and the agent helping me has found a few jobs for me. Mainly in hotels. It’s something to help get me started.”
“That’s brilliant!” cried Monica, trying to keep talking to distract John until he had forgotten completely about what had just occurred.
John remained silent throughout the conversation, even though he was standing right in between the two women.
“Anyway,” said Laura, “I’d best be off!”
When Laura left, Monica started talking to John.
“Have you taken your tablets?” she asked him.
“Yes. You know I always take my tablets,” replied John. “What sort of mother do you think I have if she does not allow me to take my tablets?”
“John, we’ve been through this—”
“And I’m telling you, my mother is not dead!”
“She is! I’m sorry, but she is.”
“She’s in the house, right now!”
Monica shook her head. She was growing increasingly worried about her cousin. “There’s no talking to you, is there?” she said to him, almost crying.
John did not seem to hear. Instead, he cried, “I’m coming, Mother!” leaving Monica on her own. Monica then turned to the house and looked in the window of the bedroom where her dead aunt used to sleep. She could not believe her eyes for a second when she thought she saw the curtain move. It was only for a fraction of a second, but she knew it could not have been John because he had only been in the house a few moments. Shaking her head over her silly imagination, Monica thought nothing of it and went home, still worried about John’s welfare.
Several days later, the body of Josh Davis was discovered in the woods. Then, two days after that, Steven Burck; and two days after that, Daniel Gibson; and five days after that, Richard Cold. All four had been knifed to death, and all had been discovered in the woods, just outside of town. The police had absolutely no leads at all. There was no DNA evidence, and a few random statements could not solve the murders. Eventually, their files were packed in a box and put with the rest of the unsolved murders. People had their theories, of course, but no evidence to support them. Everyone else in the world forgot about the murders, except the people of Minot. No one ever spoke of the murders, because many in the area knew the families of the victims rather well, so it affected them personally. Although everyone wanted to know who the murderer was, not one detail emerged about the character of the killer. Nothing was known about this person beyond the local nickname that had quickly circulated in whispers after the killings – the ‘Minot Hacker.’
Chapter 2
It was a dreary November afternoon in 2012, and the team and I had finished for the day. It was another fairly routine day, as usual: going out to investigate a murder, waiting for a post mortem, looking around the crime scene for evidence. Nothing else was involved in my job. Sometimes I would interview the killers, but that was usually done by another person. I was bored and wondering if I’d made a good career choice when I took this job… and I was only three months in!
I was sitting at my desk like the others, caught up in some random conversation before packing up my things to leave for the night. We were not allowed to leave the building for another five minutes, so we were just chatting to pass the time. I had four other colleagues.
The first
was Miranda. She was in her thirties, and looked the most professional of all of us. She had long, black hair (which she sometimes tied back) and wore very little make-up, though she really didn’t need to wear any. She wore the same business-like clothes every day, and was determined to solve any murder that came her way. She was a bit like me, in a way, but Miranda had more experience, although I wasn’t sure which of us made the best detective. Miranda often talked about her achievements, although she didn’t brag. One of the pictures on her desk was of her winning an award for something, but I never knew what. She was friendly, but not a person to be enemies with.
The other woman on the team, aside from me, was Patricia Harrison. She was deputy head of the team, and she looked in her late fifties. She was a rather plump woman with short, blonde hair. If you listened to her speak, you would never guess that she had done so well in life, because she sounded like a stereotypical northern housewife.
Then there was Graham Mitchell. He was originally from New York and had lived in North Dakota for about thirty years. He was in his late forties, even pushing fifty, and he was very tall, with fairly long, brown hair. He was obviously a fun-loving person and always tried to lighten the mood slightly. However, he seemed to remain in the background sometimes when I was partnered up with him for a few murder investigations. Perhaps he was not confident enough, or perhaps he was not cut out to be a detective. I had nothing against him, but I just thought that everyone else on the team was more intelligent or all the ball than him.
Finally, there was the boss, Clive Mitchell. I sometimes got confused because there were two people with the same last name on the team, but since we had to address the boss as D.I. Mitchell, we just decided to call Graham, Graham, and he was more than happy with that. I struggled to form a reasonable opinion of the boss – he seemed to have no personality at all. I rarely spoke to him, only when I needed to. I had never actually had a proper conversation with him. He was always very dull and depressing to be around. Perhaps that was just his way, and perhaps he liked it like that. I think that everyone else on the team felt the same way as I did, because they hardly spoke to him either. I had heard that he had a family, so it was possible that there were problems there. I never found out, though.
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