After the Evil – A Jake Roberts Novel (Book 1)

by Cary Allen Stone

  AFTER THE EVIL

  A Jake Roberts Novel

  Cary Allen Stone

  © 2008 Cary Allen Stone

  Revised 2015

  ISBN-13: 978-1495413865

  ISBN-10: 1495413861

  ASIN: B013H3U81M

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrievable system, or transmitted by any means without written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  “Cary Allen Stone is a brilliant writer of psychological thrillers and murder mysteries. He writes with a keen eye for detail–the graphic violence is chillingly realistic. He delivers a taut, darkly introspective, cunning and well-executed plot by leaning towards the fallible side of his characters. He understands the criminal mind avoiding the stereotypes that dominate crime thrillers. There is a good balance of chemistry and conflict, good and evil that fans will find enthralling. His characters become embedded in our psyches and the pace of his unraveling of his thriller is a ride not easily forgotten. Cary Allen Stone is an important name to watch. This is one superb crime writer!”

  ––Grady Harp, Amazon Hall of Fame Top 100 Reviewervine Voice

  To Tyler for all of her love

  1

  After she placed the duct tape over his mouth, it became very difficult to make out some of his words. “No” was muffled, but reasonably understandable. “Don’t” didn’t sound quite right, but she got the idea. She mimicked his muted pleas pretending to feel his fear and pain. It was the end of Father Anthony Moralli.

  He began his last day on earth on an airliner. His destination was a resort-gambling oasis, which coincidently included a well-stocked pond of young females. He was on what he liked to call a “personal pilgrimage.” The expedition had nothing to do with religion. Anthony simply wanted to, no needed to, get laid. To accomplish the task, it required leaving the confines of his parish to maintain the façade of his vocation.

  Father Anthony loved the whole religion thing—the ceremonies, hearing confessions, and especially saving lost souls. He planned to start saving his soul right after saving all of the others. After years of religious studies and training, he concluded it was beyond his comprehension to truly understand God, so he simply preached the commandments, and left the rest to God. What Anthony really understood were the basic physical needs of a man. He struggled with his vow of celibacy, finding it to be in direct conflict with his deep and firm conviction, that sex was a gift from God. To abstain, he believed, was a slap to the Creator’s face. The “Love thy neighbor” commandment was his favorite, and he took every opportunity to apply it to his life. Of course, that did not include molesting boys like some of his classmates in the seminary. He boarded the flight sans white collar, and slumped into his assigned seat by the window, in the emergency exit aisle.

  A good-looking man with dark, wavy hair and olive complexion, Anthony gave his best Elvis smile whenever women smiled at him. His deep-set, dark eyes suggested compassion, mixed with forgiveness. They also hinted at a touch of mischievous intent. In airline terminology, it was easy for the good father to make his connection. Certain a nap during the flight would pay benefits later that evening, Anthony closed his eyes, and quickly drifted off to sleep. While he napped, the handsome, incognito stranger tempted female “parishioners” inside the Church of the Holy Aircraft Cabin. The older women sighed and relinquished the temptation then placed a gentle hand over their husbands’. A few of the younger, adventurous women on board, felt up to the challenge, each waited for his nap to end.

  Lori first noticed Anthony, as he searched for a place for his Reebok carry-on bag in the overhead bin. She made her way around the other passengers, and offered to help him. It was one of her duties as a flight attendant. Safety was her first concern. Passenger comfort was another. She carefully choreographed every move. As her uniform dress rose up along with his bag to be stowed, Anthony smiled. Lori’s compelling cyan-hued eyes, Angelina lips, and cascading California blond hair, held Anthony’s attention. Everything about her confirmed the Creator was truly a master artisan. Drawing stares was commonplace for Lori. The women envied her stunning looks, while the men behaved like schoolboys. Manifested passenger, Anthony Moralli, held Lori’s attention. He seemed different than the others, she thought.

  * * *

  She playfully protested while he fondled her, as if they were in the back seat of a ’56 Chevy, at a drive-in movie. Passengers in various stages of maturity, who stood near them, stared with disgust. Any children present were oblivious to their sordid adult behavior. They were distracted by all of the other things associated with flying and airport security.

  “I don’t care. I want some Susan Johnson right now,” Nick said.

  With feigned indignation, she corrected him.

  “I believe, as recently as two days ago, it changed to Mrs. Nicholas Parker.”

  He covered by teasing.

  “I forgot.”

  Susan’s arms dropped to her sides, and she frowned. She wasn’t finding his brand of humor very funny. Cognizant of her distress, he pressed two fingers to her lips as he pulled her close. They ended with an embrace, and a passionate kiss. When their lips separated, Nick obsessed.

  “Susan, I need you. I can’t live without you, you know that.”

  The embrace, the kiss, and the sentimental words, accomplished what he wanted She melted in his arms.

  “Nick, I love you so much, you’re everything to me––you’re my life.”

  Holding his face with both hands, she kissed him again. He stroked her shoulders, and let his hands slip down to fondle her spandex-smooth behind. A worried look appeared in her brown eyes.

  “Be safe my love, and come back to me,” Susan said.

  He reassured her with a promise. Nick was the consummate sincerity machine, and had the uncanny ability to charm his female victims, better than any of his contemporaries. The other travelers, observing the two lovers, rolled their eyes and groaned. Finally, the captain released his grasp on her, and turned to reach into the back seat of his oversized Lincoln Navigator SUV. He gathered his flight and overnight bags, and placed them curbside.

  After a final caress, Susan stepped back to take one last adoring look at him. She blew him a tender kiss goodbye. Although she would have liked to stay longer, she was already late picking up her daughter from school. Nick pantomimed catching the flying kiss with his hand, and pressed it to his lips. She pivoted, and after an awkward climb into the driver’s seat, cranked over the engine. The Bose CD player blasted out her favorite rap song. He hated rap music, but tolerated it enough to appease her. She gave him a doting smile and a brisk wave goodbye. Knowing how much he cherished his toys, Susan concentrated on her driving, and was extra careful with the SUV.

  With a pathetic pout on his face, he stood at the curb, like a little boy being dropped off at camp. His fingers slowly, and sequentially fluttered in the air, to emphasize his displeasure at having to fly off without her. Nick watched her drive away.

  As she made the turn at the end of the terminal to exit the airport grounds, he quickly turned to look in the opposite direction. It wasn’t too long before a Yellow Cab pulled up alongside him and parked. The back door sprang open. A pair of firm, long and proportioned legs extended from out of the back seat of the taxi. Although she was petite, the heels made her at least four inches taller. Her tight blouse accentua
ted her artificially inflated breasts. The plaid skirt was snug, and scarcely enough cloth to cover her dignity. Nick had met the barely above-legal-age woman at a club, when Susan was out of town visiting relatives.

  “Hey, babe,” Nick said.

  The other travelers, who had witnessed his earlier carrying-on, rolled their eyes knowing his new wife had just driven off moments ago. They became furious when he scrutinized the young woman from head to toe, as if evaluating the purchase of a slave. It was understood she would play that role later in the evening, to satisfy just one more of his sexual perversions.

  “Oh Nick, you look so hot in your uniform. I’m getting wet just looking at you,” Tricia said.

  She squealed delightfully. Tricia knew how the game was played, and was adept at using suggestive sexual innuendos, having lost her innocence when she was an even younger girl. Nick was a successful airline pilot wanting to play. Tricia wanted out of her boring town. She also desired to have his upper-level income spent lavishly on her. She knew that meant he would tug hard on her leash, before she reaped the reward. Putting out, to get out was fine with her, even if it meant humping a man twice her age. Besides, age didn’t matter to a generation who believed sex was solely for pleasure, and a lifetime of commitment wasn’t as important, as financial security. As Nick snuggled with Tricia, he sensed the men standing nearby were enjoying their own filthy fantasies. Nick devilishly grinned, knowing their women were growing more nervous by the second. The performance reached a climax, when the captain gathered his baggage on wheels, and Trisha held out her small overnight bag for him to take.

  “I packed all of your favorite things,” Tricia said.

  With a broad smile, Nick added the undersized bag to his. He reached out to take her hand, and they walked into the terminal together. Nick wasn’t sure he could hold off until their destination. The fierce animal desires he had for her, pulled at him. He thought they might find a quiet place to use. Then again, he cherished sexual tension as an integral part of the chase, so he decided to simmer, rather than boil over. The men standing curbside watched her provocative gait, and sighed right up until the automatic doors closed behind the old guy and his juvenile date.

  * * *

  Soft fingertips lightly stroked his forehead. He blinked trying to clear his vision. His head was throbbing. He could barely make out the shape of a face. He thought the facial features resembled a woman smiling at him with one of those after-great-sex smiles. He struggled to remember who she might be. He couldn’t focus. The room appeared to be underwater, as if the ship had overturned at sea. Nothing made sense. The last thing he remembered was becoming extremely drained and drifting off.

  Where...how...who was...

  There was something restricting the movement of his arms and legs.

  Name is...name is...is...

  The face with the smile that floated past him reappeared, he couldn’t remember. Blaring in the background, he heard lyrics and hammering of heavy metal music. He recognized The Cult.

  It’s the way that you feel

  It’s the truth in your eye

  Cause you’re up against the world

  And still you rise

  Holly? Jean? No, Lori, The flight...

  What was holding him? He passed out again, until he heard the words that shocked him back into reality.

  “Poor Father Anthony. That is it, isn’t it––Father Anthony?”

  The effects of the drug had given Lori more than enough time to secure him, and search through his wallet.

  “Lori, what’s going on?”

  He slurred the words. As he tugged against the ropes, it hit him.

  “You know?” he said.

  She bowed her head.

  “I want to confess my sins, Father. Will you hear my confession? I want you to absolve my sins, and forgive me,” Lori said.

  “What is wrong with you?”

  His head fell back onto the pillow. He tried to compose himself, but he jerked back up again with anger and revulsion.

  “Are you insane?”

  Her jagged reaction, to his interrogatory outburst, caused a quick reevaluation of his options. His head fell back again as his mind raced. There wasn’t any way out of the tight spot he was in. He had to be repentant, and negotiate.

  “Lori, what do you want from me? You want the truth? Okay, it’s true––I’m a priest. I don’t have any excuse for my actions, except to say, I’m just a frail human like all men, and I sin, too.”

  He studied her face to see if he was getting through. She bit at her lower lip, while contemplating his answer then she smiled, and slid her index finger from his forehead down to his lips, where they rested for a moment.

  I really enjoyed kissing you.

  Her finger continued down, and stopped at his genitals. She massaged him softly. He glanced down at what she was doing, and squirmed.

  Its just some weird sexual game she plays.

  He tried an end run.

  “Did you like it? We could do it again, make love again. Just untie me.”

  Lori smiled deprecatingly.

  “Now Father, we never did make love. And as far as untying you, you know I can’t do that.”

  “Untie me, goddammit,” Anthony said.

  “Oh my, thou shall not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain. You’re just like that little pope of yours, and the archbishops, and bishops––the pious hierarchy, so holy when you want to be, and so arrogant with authority. Priests think they have all the answers and can tell the rest of us how to live.”

  Anthony turned away, ashamed. He shifted, trying his best to distance himself from her.

  This can’t be happening.

  “This is some kind of a joke, right?”

  He couldn’t conceal his fear.

  “Father, I can assure you this is no joke.”

  Lori looked off into the distance.

  “Do you believe in life after death?”

  Her eyebrows rose. Lori focused on him waiting for his answer.

  You are a handsome man.

  “Of course, I do.”

  Her gaze left his as she looked down, and watched her fingertips dance around his manhood. She posed another theological question.

  “If heaven is such a heavenly place, why does everyone want to take an eternity to get there?”

  He had to think about that one. He often thought that heaven must be a small place out of necessity, and hell enormous. After all, there were far more of the damned, than there were saved in the world.

  “Is evil the same in every religion Father, or is evil different from one religion to the next?”

  She stared at him.

  “Father Anthony, you aren’t a very good person.”

  His answer was sarcastic.

  “Even Jesus wasn’t loved by everyone.”

  “You are not Jesus, Father Anthony.”

  Bowing her head, she made a request.

  “I want you to hear my confession.”

  Reaching over to the nightstand, she grasped the roll of duct tape. Tearing off a small piece, she ceremoniously placed it over his mouth, while his head thrashed violently from side to side. As hard as he possibly could, he struggled to free himself.

  Lori started confessing.

  “Father, like yourself, I have taken the Lord thy God’s name in vain. I have not honored my mother or my father. And I am about to break the commandment—Thou shall not kill.”

  She looked deeply into his wide, terrified eyes.

  “Bless me Father, for I must sin again.”

  Anthony perspired profusely. His pounding chest heaved. Tears fell down the sacrificial lamb’s face. With his eyes closed tight, he hastily prayed for God’s forgiveness of his sins. When he opened them again, he saw the raised, shimmering blade of the knife. He tensed and shook violently. He screamed from behind the tape sealing his lips. The good father felt the first, but because of the shock infiltrating his body, not the rest of the repeated punctures t
o his torso. If Anthony’s God were truly merciful, He, or She, would gift Anthony, on his deathbed with the painless “golden hour.” Another heartbeat passed.

  His eyes rolled back and disappeared. Had a heart monitor been attached to him it would have revealed a complete cessation of all cardiac function, with flat brain wave tracing. It would have confirmed that Father Anthony Moralli had left for the next life. Then with the artistry of a gourmet chef, she dragged the blade down his chest, and severed his genitals. A massive river of blood spilled from the wound between his legs. She held the organ up, while more blood drained down from her hand to her bent elbow. It made a muted thud when she dropped it onto him.

  To complete the act, Lori stabbed him one last time, directly into his heart, and withdrew her hand. The knife stood erect, like a tombstone protruding from his unmoving chest. Father Anthony mouthed his last words behind the duct tape during the brief seconds he had left, but she never heard them. She had no idea he had forgiven her. She walked to the foot of the bed where she sat down on a chair facing him. While staring at the corpse, she became lost in an out-of-body experience that took her mind along for the ride. Her fingers roamed until she found the special place between her legs. The face of her dead husband appeared over Anthony’s, and spoke to her.

  That’s right baby. Daddy loves you.

  “Did I do it right, daddy? Like you taught me, daddy?”

  You’re daddy’s little girl.

  She recited while matching the rhythm of her hand.

  “Daddy loves me, daddy loves me, daddy...loves...me… Why daddy, daddy it hurts. Please stop, daddy, no more, daddy. Mommy, make him stop!”

  Like every time before, she could not reach a climax, and the rapid motion of her hand ceased. Lori awoke from the dream and became mechanical. From the bathroom, she retrieved a white washcloth. Returning to the bed, she soaked a corner of the cloth into the puddle of blood between Anthony’s thighs. She climbed over him to the headboard, and wrote crimson letters on the wall––Anthony.