No Remorse No Regret (Counterstrike Book 1)

by Ian Worrall

  Chapter 37

  M elissa pulls into the parking lot of her second stop. A small mom-and-pop motel named Muggy’s. She rubs her eyes and yawns. I just need a few hours of sleep before continuing. Opening the door, she rests her head on the steering wheel for a few seconds before stepping out. At the front desk sits a kid of about eighteen years old watching a baseball game between the LA Dodgers and San Diego Padres.

  “I need a room for the night,” Melissa says.

  The kid turns around slumping his shoulders down, annoyed at the interruption. “Fifty-five bucks,” he sighs as he flings open a ledger book. “Write your name there.”

  As he hands her a pen, a San Diego batter hits a home run. He turns around to watch the play. Melissa scribbles the name Celine Charlebois and then closes the book, putting fifty-five dollars in cash on the counter.

  “Thanks,” the kid says. He hands her a key. “Room fifty-three. To the right, go around the back.”

  “Great,” she says as she takes the key and walks out the door.

  Inside the room, the clock reads four ten a.m. She sets up a motion sensor about one foot inside the door and a second one on the front window sill. Putting her bags on the floor, she turns on the TV, lies down on the bed, and within seconds falls asleep.

  * * *

  Sleeping next to his wife with his arms around her, Mitchell is awakened by the ringing of his mobile phone. The time reads four thirteen a.m.

  “This better be good,” he answers as he rubs his eyes and yawns. He bolts from the bed when he’s told the news. “Haley Vater’s been found? Alive? That’s awesome!” he exclaims, rousing his wife.

  “State troopers are on the scene? Where’s Haley being taken to? I’m on my way there.”

  He starts pulling clean clothes out of his dresser as his wife sits up in bed.

  “Good news?”

  “The girl on the news. Haley Vater’s been found alive.”

  She closes her eyes and puts her hands to her head in prayer. “Thank God.”

  “She’s likely the latest victim of The Drowner.”

  He pulls up the number for Jackie on his mobile phone and presses call. It reaches the voicemail. “Hey Jackie, I’m on my way to pick you up. The girl’s been found. We’re going to interview her.”

  Ending the call, he changes his clothes. “Dear, I need to use your car. Mine’s at the station. Chipper has the keys.”

  “I’ll pick it up later today,” she says.

  He pulls out forty dollars from his wallet. “That should take care of the cab fare. Sorry, but this couldn’t be helped.”

  “I know,” she says.

  He walks out of the room and ten seconds later his wife hears the front door close and the car engine starting.

  Twenty minutes later, Jackie is sitting in the passenger seat of the car, drinking coffee from Starchy’s. They are on the highway heading to the small hospital where Haley has been taken.

  “Do her parents know?” she asks.

  “They better.”

  “Hopefully this will be a mistake we can use to nail him, and this will stop.”

  “Yeah,” Mitchell agrees.

  “Until the next one comes along.”

  Mitchell grimaces at that comment. “Unfortunately, that’s the truth.”

  They both know it is only a matter of time before another coward comes along. There’s always several open murders on the books. Some get solved in days, some take years, some remain open forever. An unfortunate and sobering thought for those whose job it is to nail them is that at any one time there are over twenty active serial killers in the country.

  Chapter 38

  S itting in the Penthouse of the Hotel Czarina, Danil and Oleg are speaking with six other Organized Crime figures. All of them are in boxer shorts. Dimitri Sarnov and Anton Karmonov are the heads of the Russian Mafia groups in New York and Philadelphia. A third is the national president of The Devil’s Brigade biker gang and the other two are lieutenants in the local Italian Mafia. The clock on the wall reads four thirty in the morning.

  “First off, you sure this room isn’t bugged?” Anton asks.

  Danil looks at him with a death stare. It’s bad enough you forced this meeting but questioning my competence? “I own this hotel, remember? My crew sweeps it every day to make sure it’s clean. And we’ve all been stripped down to our underwear before entering. So, unless one of us has something shoved up our ass or dick, we’re all clean.”

  “Fine then.”

  “So, what is so urgent we need to talk in person?” Danil asks.

  The Devil’s Brigade president says, “The war between you and The Black Roses.”

  “We didn’t start it. I offered them a ten percent cut in the product we bring in to their area. They wanted sixty.”

  “With most of their leadership gone, offer them thirty. They should be amenable to that,” Karmonov says.

  “Almost a third of my profits? Are you serious?”

  Anton continues. “The war–”

  “Will bring unwanted attention to you,” the biker finishes.

  “Yeah, your boys up in Quebec know that, don’t they?” Danil retorts.

  “He was a rogue element in the organization,” the biker says.

  One of the Italians says, “It’s just a matter of time before collateral damage happens. Then the cops will be on you like white on rice.”

  “We’re the ones who have avoided it,” Danil says.

  “So far,” Anton corrects.

  “That shootout the other night. What if one of those cops had been hit?” Dmitri asks.

  “My button man is a skilled shooter, with enough sense not to take out cops. I am well aware that would bring a law enforcement thunderstorm down on my head.”

  “Good,” Anton continues, “Find out who the new leader is and make an offer of thirty percent. This war needs to end.”

  “And if they don’t take the deal?” Danil asks.

  “Then go ahead and wipe the rest of them out.”

  “Thanks,” he says. I can wipe them out if I want to regardless.

  And with that he stands up and knocks on the door to his own crew outside of the room. “Get their clothes ready.”

  The other six men get up from their chairs. “I must say,” one of the Italians nods with approval, “I never thought of this to ensure there were no wires. Quite impressive. I’ll have to use that.”

  Danil sees the gut hanging over the man’s underwear. “Thanks” he says. Just make sure not to have any women around when you meet, or you won’t be getting laid.

  Chapter 39

  C olton sits down and turns on his TV. He has a case of beer on the coffee table. He switches channels to watch the LA Dodgers and San Diego Padres. At five a.m., the game is in the sixteenth inning.

  “Great little reward after a good night’s work.” He raises his beer in a toast to the pile of women’s clothes next to the case of beer. He dials his work number and calls in sick.

  After opening his beer, he downs half of the bottle in five seconds and wipes his mouth on his sleeve. During the game, the sixteenth inning ends with a strikeout to the Dodgers’ player.

  He finishes the first beer and opens another one. After taking a drink, he picks up Haley’s shirt and opens it up. Closing his eyes, he reminisces about how terrified the girl was as he cut her clothes off. Every little tear she cried, did she really think she would get out of this alive? Poor little bitch must have been crying for her Mommy and Daddy through the tape. All that screaming you did, I bet you prayed to God begging for him to come save you. Funny how they all do that. Maybe the next girl I’ll let her pray for a few minutes just to see if God saves her. That girl was the first virgin I ever took.

  * * *

  Mitchell and Jackie are standing outside Haley’s hospital room with another woman, a victim’s advocate. All three are quiet as they listen to the beeping of machines monitoring patients’ vital signs. The sterile smell of bleach permea
tes the hospital wing. Haley’s parents are sitting on either side of the hospital bed holding their daughter’s hands. A nurse comes out of the room.

  “They’re ready for you,” she says to the waiting detectives.

  “Ready for this, kid?” Mitchell asks Jackie.

  Her eyes narrowing and jaw clenching, Jackie asks, “Are you ever ready for it?”

  “No. Next to giving a death notice to victim’s families, this is the hardest part of the job.”

  “And what’s the easiest?”

  “Nothing is easy.”

  Jackie knocks on the door to the hospital room. The clock says six a.m. Haley and her parents look up at the detective.

  “Hello. I’m Detective Cruze,” she begins. Despite being the junior partner, it is better to have a female police officer interview a female crime victim. Most are victims of male violence, so the last thing a woman who has been raped wants is to talk to another man, even if he’s a cop.

  With tears in her eyes, Haley nods as Jackie continues. “Are you comfortable being interviewed in here or would you prefer to do this elsewhere or at another time?”

  “Here is best.”

  “OK. I will inform you that the interview will be recorded on video. You can have a victim advocate if you like,” pointing to the woman who was with her and Mitchell. “That’s what she’s here for. And we can provide a police guard outside your room. If at any time during the interview you have questions or need a break feel free to say so.”

  Haley wipes away tears from her face.

  “Are you ready to proceed?” Jackie asks.

  Chapter 40

  S unlight shines through the top of the window and wakes Melissa up. She sees the clock reads ten fifteen a.m. Damn. Two hours behind schedule. She forgot to set the alarm, and now there would be no time for breakfast. She holds her growling stomach. Leaving the room key on the bed, she turns off the TV and leaves her room making the fifty-foot walk to her car and placing the bags in back.

  As she gets to a red light, the news bulletin on the radio comes on. “Good news in the disappearance of Haley Vater. She has been found alive. A composite sketch has been released to the media of the suspect who grabbed her. Possibly The Drowner.”

  Melissa pumps her fist. “Don’t you worry kid. I will avenge you,” she whispers as if speaking into Haley’s ear.

  * * *

  Colton looks up from his storage box to the TV, which is broadcasting a newscast like the one Melissa is listening to on the radio of her car.

  “Shown here is a composite sketch of the man who the victim says abducted her.”

  With his heart racing, Colton leans in towards the TV, his eyes squinting like he’s reading the small print on a contract. A little bit like me, but it could be any number of guys. How could that girl possibly escape? I saw her go under the water. Did the rope break? The newspaper will say what happened. He checks under the mattress of the couch and finds seventy-five cents. Then checks his wallet. No coins but there is a dollar bill. Whatever I’ll get the paper for free at work tomorrow.

  * * *

  Melissa walks out of a gas station convenience store reading a newspaper. Wearing a ball cap and sunglasses with her hair tied back in a ponytail, she is also wearing a pregnancy disguise. As she reads, tears start to roll down her cheeks as she smiles. Thank God someone else has survived the bastard. There’s been no joy since . . .

  As she sits in her car, she looks at the police sketch of the suspect accused of taking Haley. She taps her finger on the sketch and shakes her head, continuing to stare at the image until a car behind her honks at her.

  “Hey lady, get a move on. I got to fill up too.”

  She looks up and waves at the rear-view mirror. Obliging the other driver, she gets a move on, making her turn offs to the interstate highway.

  As she hits the cruise control, she starts thinking back to the days of watching the Star Trek series. The original, the Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, Voyageur and the prequel series, Enterprise. There is no time to watch the new series that is supposed to be coming out sometime. It was the characters of Catherine Janeway and Major Kira that made her want to be an actress. The strong female characters, not the stereotypical eye candy or the woman who needs a man to rescue her.

  Ever since a man did rescue her from a watery grave, she had become like Kira on Deep Space Nine, a resistance fighter. Kira fought back against an occupation of her planet. Melissa fights back against male violence against women, a battle she realizes she won’t live to see the end of. But this little lioness is going to make as many pay as possible.

  Too bad the transporter technology won’t likely ever become science fact. It would make her jobs much easier, as would a ray gun that vaporizes the victims. That could be something to work on. No body, no crime as the saying goes.

  * * *

  Colton puts down the last of his storage boxes in the living room. The TV is on the news channel for any updates on the Haley Vater case. That sketch didn’t look close enough to him, he hopes, not realizing that often a sketch can be done over until they get it right.

  From the first box he opens, he pulls out his old hockey jersey. He turns his upper lip like a snarling dog baring its teeth and then slams the jersey into a garbage bag.

  All his stuff put in boxes by mom. Didn’t get as much money from her estate as his brother and sister did all because they have kids and he doesn’t. At least I got the house, probably only because they live out of the city and state.

  Focus on the task at hand. Somewhere in here is the file of newspaper clippings on the first eleven victims. Mom better not have thrown it out. So far only the rock collection, hockey cards, and here it is. Scanning through the articles, Colton thinks of how fun this was and will be again, making people fear the night.

  Out of the same box, he dumps the items the eleven girls were wearing when he abducted them. Picking up a pair of thong panties, he presses them to his face and draws in a long breath. Damn. They’ve lost the scent. He opens a purse from the box, takes out a bottle of perfume, and sprays the panties, pressing them again to his face while drawing in another long breath. That’s more like it. Love the scent of a woman.

  * * *

  Mitchell and Jackie have the pictures of the suspects spread out on their desks, comparing them to the sketch of The Drowner. Of the twenty-six initial suspects in the case, none of them are even close to the sketch. Zach Steese steps up behind them and puts his hands on both their shoulders.

  “So, we’re at square one?”

  The two of them look up at him. “Yeah,” Mitchell says.

  “Heard you got a live one,” Zach says.

  “We certainly did, thankfully,” Jackie says to him, turning back to the pictures.

  “How’d she survive?”

  Mitchell turns and leans on his desk. “He had the rope tied to the tape that bound her wrists. The weight of the cinder block ripped the tape around her wrists and the block fell to the bottom. She managed to get to the surface and the shore. Firefighters found her. He made a mistake not making sure cigarettes were out when he smoked on a wooden bridge.”

  “How do they know he smoked?” Zach asks

  “It’s a logical conclusion. It was clear weather, so no lightning strikes. What else could it have been?”

  The former FBI agent shrugs. “Don’t know.”

  Mitchell says, “I was going through the old case files, there was a name blacked out on the victim list. Do you remember a girl named Celine Charlebois?”

  Zach’s eyebrows go up enough for Mitchell to notice. “Don’t think so.”

  Mitchell’s eyes narrow. Is he lying?

  “I can check my own files though,” Zach says.

  “Do that please.”

  Zach turns and leaves as Mitchell watches Zach walking away, shuffling his feet with his shoulders hunched over looking at the floor. Mitchell purses his lips as he turns back to his work.

  Jackie turns to Mitche
ll. “What’s up?”

  “With what?”

  “You don’t believe him?”

  Mitchell shrugs his shoulders. “Been doing this long enough to know when someone’s hiding something. He probably had good reason to keep her name off the record.”

  “In what way?”

  “Remember how they taught you that sometimes they might try and inject themselves into an investigation?”

  “Didn’t want a survivor found,” she says.

  “Exactly. From my notes, they said it was an accident, kids playing with a bow and arrow set. They pulled the arrow out. Worst thing to do, any medic will tell you.”

  “And now, we have a washed-out criminalist?”

  “I feel sorry for him in a way. He’s not a bad guy. Not everybody can do this job.”

  “What happens when and if we find the woman who was raped and left for dead by the serial killer, and find that it was her who killed the rapists? If our belief is that she is also the contract killer for Burlomov?”

  “We arrest her for murder,” he says, “After we get the serial killer.”

  “OK. Would she being a rape victim not be a mitigating circumstance?” Jackie asks.

  “Not for us to decide. That’s the jury or judge’s job.”

  “And what happens –”

  “What happens, Jackie, if the next one she kills didn’t actually do it? We make mistakes, as do prosecutors as does everyone in the system. There’s been enough times where people have been exonerated.”

  “I was going to ask is there a possibility she might turn state’s evidence? Testify against her employer and not do any time.”

  “It could happen.”

  “Would a murderer really avoid prison?” she asks.

  “If she has enough information on someone they really want to nail.”

  “So hopefully she never takes out an innocent by mistake.”

  “Yeah.”

  * * *

  Colton puts the panties back down on the pile of murdered women’s clothes.

  “That was so good,” he says. “Brings back so many memories.”