‘NO!’ She screamed as the ground disappeared from under her feet and suddenly, she was falling through the air uncertain of if her son was alive and if she would live through the fall.
Georgina heard the cry echo through the tunnel, followed by the sight of Jo-Lynn falling through the air. She hit the water hard.
‘Jesus.’ Georgina ran to Jo-Lynn, wading through the water and pulled her to the side. She rolled Jo-Lynn over, so she was face up.
Jo-Lynn was still conscious but barely. Behind her came the sound of another person entering the water. A heavier much splash.
Georgina realised that it was detective Rick Montoya, though the man that hauled himself upright from the water bared no resemblance to the man she once knew. She also was aware that she was no match for him when dragging a half-conscious woman through knee-deep effluent. ‘Come on, we’ve got to go.’
‘The knife…get the knife.’ Jo-Lynn tried to stand and though half-conscious was still smart enough to remember the knife she plunged into Prentice Fortune. She pointed to the knife, now deeply embedded in Fortune’s neck. Georgina swam the short width of the outlet and with all of her strength yanked the knife from Fortune. Jo-Lynn was already moving as fast as she could up the sewer outlet. Fortune rolled forward face down into the water, his body becoming engulfed in a sea of waste. Georgina moved fast to catch up. She had no compulsion about Fortune. Lights above flicked on and off as they moved down the tunnel. Georgina soon caught up with Jo-Lynn, both of them knowing and hearing the manic demented screams of the detective pursing them.
‘We’ve got to keep on moving. We’ll be out of here soon.’ Georgina didn’t want to look behind, she could hear the sound of water splashing and knew that Montoya was on his feet and closing the gap between them. Jo-Lynn stumbled, Georgina was unsure if she had passed out or whether her legs just gave way, but suddenly Jo-Lynn was a dead weight and dragging them both down to the surface of the water. The demented rage f Rick Montoya echoed down the tunnel. The chill from his angler like a cold breath on the back of Georgina’s neck. He was closing fast, and she was stumbling along the passage, her feet trying desperately to find purchase in the watery environment. Georgina dragged Jo-Lynn as best as she could but knew that if either of them was to survive, she would have to let her fall to the water. Georgina could feel the cold blast of night air rushing to greet them. The exit from the sewer tunnels was only yards away. The sound of water being displaced by the rushing angry sound of Montoya approaching made her briefly look over her shoulder, an act she instantly regretted. The fury of the man was made all the more evident by a loud voracious scream. Georgina put her arm around Jo-Lynn and dragged her onwards. ‘C’MON’ She shouted in Jo-Lynn’s ear. The sound of Montoya approaching grew louder. Georgina imagined that she could feel his very presence upon her and was too paralysed to turn this time for facing the truth. She had no gun, just the knife, which she clutched onto desperately. Georgina heard the familiar sound of a gun being cocked, ready to fire. Paralysis once more slowing her movement as she imagined Rick Montoya steadying himself to aim and fire a bullet directly into her. The sound of the gun engaging in the tunnel clear and succinct over the rushing water and ensuing pandemonium. Georgina’s legs began to betray her, slowing down, becoming molten lead. The bullet exploded through the tunnel like an express train roaring past her head. Instinctively she grabbed Jo-Lynn and dived head first into the water. She swam forward, not knowing or seeing her destination. The muted sound of gunfire rang out again. She swam forward as far as she could until her lungs gave out. Finally gasping for air, she surfaced, dragging Jo-Lynn with her. They were at the entrance to the flood chamber.
‘Stand to the side.’ The order was bellowed to Georgina and Jo-Lynn from the bank. Confused, Georgina acted on instinct and did as directed. They pushed themselves as hard as they could to the riverbank.
Leroy LaPortiere tried to stabilise himself. He raised his pistol again and fired off a third round. He watched the projectile thunder down the tunnel, followed by another, then another and another. Leroy kept on firing until the clip was empty, until there was no reason or need to fire anymore. Nothing came out of the tunnel but silence, then eventually, the floating body of Rick Montoya. The already ravaged face was pulped by three direct hits, leaving impacted craters where his features used to be. There was no doubt that detective Rick Montoya was dead, but Leroy gingerly entered the water, reloaded a clip and fired another three rounds into the head of Rick Montoya.
Leroy pulled Jo-Lynn Montoya out of the water first and then Georgina O’Neil. They both lay on the muddy riverbank, exhausted by the night, by the cold, and by the events.
Jo-Lynn got to her feet first. ‘My baby.’
Georgina noticed blood staining Leroy’s trouser leg. ‘You’re hurt?’
Jo-Lynn moved to the mouth of the tunnel, breathed deeply and shouted with all of her might.
‘WILL?’
Barely half a second passed before Ray’s voice roared back. ‘MOMMY.’
‘Are you okay baby?’ Her voice echoed down the tunnel.
Ray’s voice came in sobs, no longer able to be strong. He just wanted to be hugging his mother. ‘Help me, Mommy.’
Jo-Lynn fell to her knees. ‘We’re coming, baby…we’re coming.’
A hand rested on her shoulder; Jo-Lynn turned to see Georgina smiling at her. ‘I’m sure he’s fine, a fighter just like his mother.’
A helicopter swooped past. The bright halogen lamps set around the house were triggered illuminating the area. Somewhere in the near distance was the sound of approaching emergency response vehicles. Leroy sat down on the muddy grass and returned his gun to his holster. Blood continued to soak from his wounded leg through his trousers.
‘You want me to apply some pressure to that.’ Georgina said, indicating to the thigh wound.
‘Yeah’ Leroy tried his best to smile. ‘I always knew you were dying to get inside my pants.’
Georgina hunkered down and pressed the palms of her hands firmly onto Leroy’s bleeding thigh. ‘As long as you know, I am not making a pass.’
Leroy sat down on the ground and lay back, looking at the black night and the falling rain.
The hours that followed were, in Georgina's mind, unnecessarily excessive and tortuous on top of the ordeal they had encountered but she was often part of that procedural team herself on many occasions and understood the reasons why, even if she couldn't sympathise with them. Wynan O’Neil stepped from the helicopter and made his way to the house. The door was wide open now. The FBI director found Leroy, Jo-Lynn, Ray and his daughter sitting in silence in the kitchen, too exhausted to talk. Ray had scouted around the house and produced some quilts and blankets; Jo-Lynn had turned the televisions off that were hooked up to the computers in an attempt to disconnect from the real world and gain some much-needed privacy. She sat cradling her son, rocking back and forth both of them still shell-shocked. It would be a long time before the healing process would begin. Georgina sat on the floor in the kitchen still applying pressure to Leroy’s leg wound. He would survive, there was a lot of blood, but the bullet was a through and through, missing the femur and artery. Eventually the paramedics arrived for Leroy and another ambulance followed for Jo-Lynn and Ray.
‘I just want to thank you. I know that sounds inadequate but…’ Jo-Lynn stared deep into Georgina's eyes. Georgina felt like an impostor, in her mind she hadn't done anything.
‘It’s…it’s more than adequate.’
‘You know, I really can't believe that Rick could do this.’
Georgina looked at Jo-Lynn hugging her son, who was now sleeping standing on his feet. Jo-Lynn lifted the child and rested him on her hip and walked out into the rain and the waiting ambulance.
‘I'll visit you tomorrow.’ Georgina called after Jo-Lynn. Her voice echoed through the hall and rattled out of the building, out into the rain sodden night, where it was lost amongst the black sky and the white halogen lights of the assemb
ling television crews.
‘Ready to go home Georgie?’ Wynan O’Neil took of his long coat and draped it around his daughter’s shoulders.
Epilogue
‘The impending inquiry will of course give you chance to redress any question or matter you feel is warranted. I can’t begin to tell you what a god-awful mess this whole affair has been. We have no choice but to suspend you on full pay pending the decision of the enquiry’
Georgina sat in the large office, staring through Director Ebbley, out beyond the reinforced glass walls of his sixth floor office. Her father, Wynan O’Neil, sat next to Ebbley. Remaining silent for the entire hearing. He listened to the proceedings with interest, only showing signs of detachment and professionalism. Georgina’s finger ran over the small scar on her forehead, it itched from the removal of the stitches and promised to leave an angry red line which, ‘would diminish with time.’ or so she was assured. Harold Ebbley had given the same speech at least once a month for the past fourteen years in his post as Director of the behavioural science unit. He had given it so many times it sounded flat and said with little heart or conviction.
‘It has been three weeks and there is still no sign of Captain Frusco even being charged.’ Georgina replied in an equally flat tone. The passion in her own voice lost, stranded somewhere else, wrapped up in bureaucracy and politics.
‘The situation there is delicate, and as you know complicated by recent events.’
Events, Georgina knew what recent events were, and in her mind gilded an already poisoned chalice.
‘The photos you gave us were fake doctored digital images. As far as we can tell, Prentice Fortune and Rick Montoya were both responsible for manipulating images, as was Andy White from the TV station. Rick was getting Andy White to doctor the video images. From what we can gather, Montoya, Fortune, Kiers, Dalton, England White and Fleisher were the only people involved in the affair that we have any credible incriminating evidence for. And some of that evidence went up in smoke in the fire.’ Ebbley let the sentence hang in the air. ‘Maybe we will never know the full story.’
Ebbley’s voice drifted away inside Georgina's head, once more an incoherent mumble. She picked up one of the colour photos from Director Ebbley's Birchwood desk. The television station was almost raised to the ground, now nothing more than a pile of smouldering black ashes. Littered amongst the skeletal walls and empty doorframes was the molten videotapes and images White was working on. White was still missing. The case was a mess and far from ever being truly solved.
‘…we will have to sit back and slowly continue trying to piece together this together, but the truth is we may now never know.’ Ebbley's voice snapped back into focus.
Georgina laughed to herself, though the ironic smile never escaped Ebbley's attentive eyes. Georgina O’Neil stood and handed over her badge and her weapon. Wynan O’Neil blinked once but remained concentrated on his daughter’s face.
‘Take the break, O’Neil. We’ll be in touch.’
Winter still hung in the air in Maryland. It seemed like an age since summer. Georgina had just about had enough; she was mentally and physically exhausted and the temptation to walk away from the FBI was overwhelming. She lay on her bed, her nose pressed close to the quilt and she breathed in the comfort of home, the smell of her and her house, the smell of loneliness. Now more than ever she needed somebody. Her mind strayed to Korjca, to her slightly rounded face and fresh complexion and as she wondered and imagined. Four strands of Korjca’s hair were wrapped around Georgina’s fingers; sleep entered and closed the world outside her head, to allow fantasies breathing space. She woke in a dark cold room, disorientated. Georgina sat bolt upright and tried to gather her thoughts and wits, but for a few long seconds she was somewhere else, somewhere terrible. Familiarity slowly broached, entering through the dark. As she reached for the phone on the bedside locker it rang. Her hand hovered above it briefly before she garnered the courage to lift the receiver.
‘Hello.’ Her voice left vapour trails against the moonlight coming from the shuttered window.
‘Hi.’ He had a deep honey brown voice, which she instantly recognised.
‘Hi, Leroy.’ She did not even try to hide the relief in her voice. ‘How are things?’
‘Thought I'd call see how you were. I heard about the inquiry.’
Georgina barely contained a disgusted grunt, which managed to sound like a stifled sneeze to Leroy.
‘Suspended until further notice. It's procedure, so they tell me…I need a friend.’ The end of her sentence even surprised Georgina, the words fell from her lips like betrayer’s kiss and in an instant left her floundering. ‘Can we meet?’ Georgina hoped that there were no signs of desperation in her voice.
‘How about lunch tomorrow? On me. I'll pick you up around twelve
Twelve, Georgina sat on the bed in the cold, dark room. ‘Make it two. I don't get up early these days. Don’t sleep through the night too well.’
‘Are you okay?’ Leroy asked. The silence down the end of the phone that greeted him added to his concerns.’
After a pause, Georgina answered. ‘Not really. See you tomorrow.’
‘See you then.’ Leroy lingered for a moment before placing the phone down on the receiver, as did Georgina. Both of them listening to the silence and to their own breathing.
If you Enjoyed Turtle Island, look out for the next great book featuring Georgina O’Neil. Here is a free preview of
Dark Country – Songs of Love and Murder
Caffeine Nights Publishing
Dark Country
Song of Love and Murder
The second Georgina O’Neil Novel
Darren E Laws
Fiction aimed at the heart
and the head...
Prologue
Hello Darkness, My Old Friend
Portmorion, Maryland
November 2002
The echo of darkness hung in the air with only the constant throb in her temple as company. Georgina placed the phone down and contemplated the long night ahead. Time would slow, insomnia’s effect would prove Einstein wrong in this other realm of physics. Tick-tock. She could see the vapor trails of her breath and realized that somewhere, somehow the seasons had changed since she was last at home. Though nothing else had. There were still the unopened boxes which had remained obediently dormant in her absence. She had long since forgotten the contents, the only betrayal a black permanent marker designating the final destination, bathroom, sitting room, bedroom ... This was home, yet she felt like a tourist. The clock in the bedroom shouted the passing of each second, taunting the emptiness of her life. She reflected on the past six months and smiled at the knowledge of making a good friend in Leroy. He was at the end of the phone over eight hundred miles away, the closest friend she had. Rather than spending a night looking at the ceiling waiting for dawn to break, Georgina headed along the corridor to the sitting room. There was no TV, she was hardly ever home, so what was the point. 3:37 a.m. Time had slowed to the point where it appeared to be moving backwards. She settled onto the sofa grabbing a novel from a bookcase filled with books, this was not an act of discerning choice, it was a random action buffered by the fact that she knew she wanted to read every book collected on the shelves. Books she had read were passed on to friends, acquaintances or occasionally and purposely left in public places, more so if she enjoyed the book. As the words of the book eased her mind, the shutters of sleep approached and her eyes grew heavier until the mental images of the fiction world she was reading were replaced by the “will-o’-the-wisp” images of sleep dancing before her. Fleeting, taunting images like a boxer’s jab which she couldn’t control. Memories of why Georgina chose to fight sleep where possible. Sometimes she lost the fight and sleep would come even though it wasn’t wanted. On good nights, if sleep came, there would be no dreams or none that she would remember, just a brief encounter with blackness. Georgina would wake refreshed and happy. This wasn’t to be the case tonight.
Tick-tock, tick-tock.
Georgina woke with a noise in her head and as the reality of being awake filtered through, she realized that the alien sound which woke her was actually emanating from her throat ... a scream came from deep within her. Starting from the pit of her stomach working its way up through her chest and throat, ending in a piercing shriek. Cold air rushed against her skin which felt clammy to the touch. Beads of sweat matted her hair, sticking it to her forehead. She had no idea how long she had been asleep, only that daylight was creeping through a tiny crack in the curtains. Who needs an alarm clock?
The Teenarosa Motel, Talinha, Texas
Saturday July 26, 1958
Jonah Fintall banged on the dust-laden window once more. Small microbes of dirt bounced back into the dry atmosphere. He turned to his left where Officer Mike Reynolds was standing impatiently fighting off the sweat from streaming down his forehead into his eyes. His complexion was ruddy but seemed to go hand-in-hand with his overweight stature.
“See, it’s like I told you, she’s not answering.” Jonah pressed his face closer to the glass and peered through the grimy film to the room inside. “I can see her in the bed, she hasn’t moved all morning.” His homely Texan accent bounced off the window.
Officer Reynolds wiped the sweat from his face using a handkerchief that was already soaking wet. “It’s not a crime to ignore fans, Mr. Fintall.”
Turtle Island: 20th Anniversary Edition (Georgina O'Neil Book 1) Page 32