by Jonas Saul
“Now,” the sarge said. “All of you stay out of sight until you’re needed.”
Hunter moved off to the side to remain hidden while the sergeant stood in the middle of the foyer, waiting for Beverly and her lawyer with his hands clasped in front of him in a welcoming, non-threatening manner.
“I see five people meeting by the vehicles.”
Mavin would offer them a play-by-play as only he had visual access to the windows.
“All five walking this way now. Everyone, be ready.”
Hunter controlled his breathing, loving every second of this. She stole his Glock and actually pointed it at him. She stole his stash of cash. The bitch deserved to burn for what she did.
He wasn’t surprised at the erection he was getting at the anticipation of slapping handcuffs on her.
Oh, please, can she just resist a little.
Putting her on the floor, and pressing down on her would only be the beginning of what she would be used for when all of the boys on the drug bust got a taste of her.
Each and every one of them wanted to fuck an apology out of her, and what better place than to have her in holding. She could service over a dozen men per day while waiting for court in a year’s time.
“They’re at the door.” There was a pause. “Hold up,” Mavin said to the men. “Beverly and another man are saying goodbye to the other three.”
Another pause.
“Okay, only two are entering the building. Three are walking away.”
One more pause took place.
Hunter heard Mavin inhale.
“Good evening,” Sergeant Mavin said. “You must be Beverly Wilder, and you must be her lawyer.”
Chapter 42
As a group of five, they walked Beverly to the front door where she turned and thanked them.
“We’ll be fine from here,” Sutton said.
“We made a promise to Sarah that we’d deliver Beverly this far. We’ve done that.”
Beverly wiped a tear from her eye. “I sure wish I’d met you guys earlier. Maybe I wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“We wish that, too,” Alex said.
Beverly stared at the three of them as they eased back, turned and started for their car.
When she faced her lawyer, she had to adjust the Kevlar vest Sarah had given her. The irony wasn’t lost on her.
“Are you ready?” Sutton asked.
“As ready as I’ll ever be. How about you?”
“I’m fine. Been waiting for this day a long time. Although, there is one thing that I find funny.”
She stopped to look at him. “What?”
“With everything we planned, I never thought they’d actually think I was a real lawyer.”
“Funny isn’t it, how easy that part was. That’s why we had to meet privately.”
“Then why are you wearing a vest? That isn’t part of what we talked about.”
“I had to, so I could convince Sarah this surrender was voluntary. They’re actually good people. I didn’t want this on their conscience.”
Sutton tapped her arm twice, then opened the door.
“Let’s do this.”
He struggled with the door, even though he was in his forties. His muscle control had been weakening in recent months, the cancer taking over.
Because of this, Beverly had hastened her plan to take out Hunter and his friends so she could help Sutton end his time here in peace, without suffering.
This was their plan since they fell in love last year.
And now it was time to see their plan finalized.
Both were living empty, dead lives. Both of them were terminal patients with death waiting around the corner, one physical, one mental.
He was the only man—other than Sarah’s men, or her father—who ever showed her kindness and respect and today she will repay him tenfold.
“Good evening,” a man standing in the middle of the foyer said. “You must be Beverly Wilder, and you must be her lawyer.”
She nodded at him. “I am Beverly Wilder.”
“You’re correct,” Sutton said. “I’m her lawyer.”
“We need to start the processing here,” the man said. “I’m Sergeant Mavin. The arresting officer is behind me.”
Three uniformed armed men stepped out from the left and three from the right. In seconds, Beverly and Sutton were surrounded by six men plus the sergeant.
“Which one of you will be the arresting officer?” Sutton asked.
“That will be me.” Another man stepped out from behind the wall to their right. “Hello again, Bev.”
“You,” she seethed through clenched teeth, playing the part of the angry ex-girlfriend. Sutton had an old high school friend in the police station. He’d called that friend after Beverly told him she was ready to give up. Sutton’s friend told him that the woman who had killed all those people was being brought in—which he knew as he was the lawyer escorting Beverly—and that her ex-boyfriend, Detective Hunter, would be the arresting officer.
Beverly and Sutton were overjoyed by this development.
It worked into their plan perfectly.
Mavin eased back to give Hunter room. The men formed a tighter circle around the two of them as Hunter approached, stopping two feet in front of her.
She knew Donovan. She knew that look. If they were alone, she would get the beating of her life. But yet, this was the one moment she was looking forward to for the past twenty years.
She stared back at the murderer of her parents without cowardice, without fear this time.
“You killed my parents, then you killed me. I’ve been alive this long by the grace of God to deliver a message to you.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
Sutton was quick on the draw, as was Beverly.
The weapons Sutton brought to their one-hour meeting tonight were fully loaded.
But it was Beverly’s weapon that made Hunter’s eyes widen in surprise.
He only got one second to take a deep breath before the tip of her weapon tapped the bottom of his chin.
She fired rapidly. Detective Hunter’s face broke inward with one pull on the trigger. The second and third bullet just tore chunks of his skull apart in various places, most of his face gone.
But she didn’t stop there. Even as bullets hit her abdomen from the men surrounding them, smacking the Kevlar Hunter had provided for Sarah, Beverly kept shooting at anything that moved.
Mavin went down in a veil of blood, the top of his forehead missing. Officers to her left continued to fire rapidly, knocking her off balance.
She dropped her gun at one point and tripped over Sutton who lie on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.
Then something smacked her legs. Her arm got jammed by something.
Yet, there was no pain.
She closed her eyes as cops pounced on her. They flipped her over and almost tore her shoulders out of their sockets as they bound her wrists.
She had spent a life closing her eyes and waiting until the men stopped what they were doing to her body, until the pain ended.
Tonight was no different, but tonight was the end.
Donovan’s face was gone, completely missing behind a macabre mask of cartilage, bone fragments, and blood. She couldn’t even tell where his eyes had been.
His sick boss, Mavin, who had lied to them all, was lifeless on the floor several feet away.
Her dear lover, and best friend, Mark Sutton, dying of terminal cancer with less than two months to live, begging her to let him do this with her so he could die with purpose, taking out those who stole her youth, her parents, her life, and not wither away in pain in a hospital bed, lie beside her, his expression one of peace.
She had done it. She had done it her way.
And she was finally happy.
Out of pain.
Her eyes closed on a sick world.
But her smile didn’t fade as her heart stopped.
Chapter 43
Sarah finish
ed with the meal prep and went out onto the deck of their new home. It had been six weeks since the horrible gun fight in the police station. Four people had died. Sergeant Mavin received fatal wounds to his head and abdomen, Detective Hunter was nearly decapitated, Beverly Wilder was shot a dozen times with only three bullets entering her body, one in the leg, one in the arm, and one by her armpit that stopped beside her heart. Her friend, Mark Sutton, who the media discovered wasn’t a lawyer after all, had half a dozen bullets in him. He died rather suddenly.
The dreadful details hit the news and reporters had arrived at Sarah’s apartment door daily looking for comments, but she refused them all and told Aaron they couldn’t wait for the notice to the landlord to expire. They had to move and pay rent at two places as they couldn’t continue to live like that. Nor would she tolerate it for Willow’s sake.
Then they found this place, and it was available immediately. They were packed and moved in within three days.
The afternoon sun shone down on everyone as autumn crept up on the trees, turning them a soft yellow, and in some cases, a reddish orange.
Everyone was there, sipping a variety of beverages, while the meat roasted in the oven. A housewarming, get-together had been arranged by Parkman and Aaron, and Sarah couldn’t be happier.
“We were just discussing Beverly,” Parkman said. “Bringing the boys up to date.”
Sarah took a beer out of the Coleman cooler, cracked the top and drank from it. “Don’t let me stop you. Please continue.” She smiled warmly at everyone.
“If you heard us laughing,” Aaron started, “it was because Benjamin just commented on how none of us got shot considering all that had happened.”
Sarah raised her bottle in the air. “Here’s to that!” She drank again, as did everyone else.
“Did you guys hear about the rest of those officers?” Parkman asked them all.
Heads shook among them.
“They were all arrested. Since Mavin and Hunter are dead, some new guy took over their cases. The package Beverly sent was extremely detailed. I guess Hunter told her names, dates, times, everything, while he was drunk. She recorded it all and made as many notes as possible.”
“Doesn’t sound like she was planning to kill him,” Sarah added. “I mean, the intent isn’t in those actions.”
“True, but what if at any point her plan to kill Hunter failed?” Aaron asked. “Like, what if she couldn’t pull the trigger when it counted? Perhaps that detailed list of his criminal actions was her backup plan in the event she couldn’t kill him.” Aaron shrugged.
“That may be the case.” Sarah drank some more. She would have to go inside in a moment to tend to the salad and wanted Aaron’s help with the chopping.
Parkman continued. “Two officers were still in the hospital when they were arrested.” He glanced at Alex, then Benjamin. “Some of you boys played a little rough, but that’s okay. All thirteen men, minus the dead Hunter now, are being held without bail. The new guy is a hard ass and the judge who heard their arraignment was pissed at them.”
“Serves them right,” Benjamin said. “They came to hurt Beverly, and quite possibly you, too, Sarah, at the barn that night.”
Sarah nodded in agreement.
They were all silent for a moment.
“Sarah got a full pardon and an apology,” Aaron said. “Did you guys know that?”
Surprised looks all around as everyone stared at her.
“They called two days ago,” Sarah said. “Asked if Aaron and I could come in. Went on about all the years they’ve known who I was and all the help I’ve given them, blah, blah, blah, and offered an official apology for Sergeant Mavin’s lies, and Detective Hunter’s dishonesty.”
“That’s impressive,” Alex whispered. “Didn’t see that coming.”
“Me neither.” Daniel shook his head.
“Guys, I’m going back in and I need help with dinner. Aaron, you’re on salad duty.”
He glanced her way. “Uh, Sarah, not going to happen.”
She gawked at him. “What?”
Aaron gestured in a circle, his finger pointing at all of the men surrounding her on the back deck of their new home.
“We’re a team. These men, along with my help and direction”—several of them laughed, and told him to shut it—“will finish dinner. You’re on rest duty, my woman.”
“But first,” Parkman said. “We need one minute of silence for the fallen.”
They all looked at him, some of the smiles fading.
“Beverly Wilder, nee Jamie Morgan, had a hard life.” Parkman wiped a solitary tear. “And now she’s gone.” He turned in his seat to look at Aaron. “I’m sorry I never got to meet your sister, my brother, but I’m sure she was a wonderful woman.” He held his beverage above his head. “To Joanne Stevens and Jamie Morgan, may they Rest In Peace.” His voice caught on emotion. “May God bless their soul, and Aaron, I’m so sorry.”
He leaned over and hugged Aaron. Their shoulders hitched.
“At least Beverly is out of pain now,” Sarah whispered.
Parkman and Aaron pulled apart.
“Gentlemen. Take one minute. Say goodbye, pray, or just empty your mind, but remember these fine women and all the women—or men—who are abused daily. Keep them in your thoughts, and know we’re coming for them all in due time.”
Everyone lowered their heads, the mood somber.
Just before the minute was over, Sarah glanced skyward as Vivian whispered in her ear.
The Condemned? What the hell is that, Vivian?
They’re coming, Sarah. I don’t like this at all.
Sarah closed her eyes and tried to will her sister out of her head.
Come back another time when you want to tell me more, Vivian. Today is a day off.
Feet rustled as everyone got up to head inside and finish making the dinner.
Sarah stayed on the deck alone, relishing the peace and quiet.
Just when she thought she could get a break, her sister popped in for another visit.
“Motherfucker,” she whispered to herself. “The Condemned.”
She got up and moved inside.
“Guess what guys,” she said. “Vivian was just here. And you’ll not believe what she just told me.”
“What?”
Sarah relayed her sister’s vague message and the expressions turned dour except Aaron’s. He just looked mad.
They were about to get into the thick of it all over again.
Afterword
Dear Reader,
This was a hard book for me to write. The content notwithstanding, I struggled with how much detail I’d add on the murder scenes, the fact that one of the men murdered would be a pastor, a religious man, but then decided to go ahead with my original thoughts, because why hold back? I mean, does evil stop to consider who might be affected? Do those who cause such pain ever really care who they inflict their poison upon?
I’ve know people in my past who have been hurt, traumatized, raped and abused. I once knew a woman who had a big heart, but due to what happened to her in foster homes, she couldn’t be alone with anyone, and never a man.
Another woman I was quite close to in the mid 1990s still bore the knife wounds after a man who supposedly loved her had viciously attacked her. As we drew close and fell in love, and she knew she could trust me, she tried to talk about what happened to her, but it just wasn’t that simple. These wounds were deep and I am not certified in any way to help her through that sort of trauma, pain. This woman also chose a profession that furthered her suffering.
I could go on about the things I’ve seen, the hell I’ve been told from people, including the absolute horrific childhood my mother had at the hands of her evil father—his name wasn’t allowed to be spoken in our home—the constant beatings, the hospitalizations, but my heart can’t take it, so I’ll stop now. My mother only went to her father’s funeral to make sure he was in fact dead. I watched as she slapped his corpse, spit on h
im, then left the funeral home. I was twelve years old. I’ll never forget seeing raw hatred like I did that day.
This book isn’t about purging any of my inner demons.
This was my attempt to show and remind us that we are all loved. If you felt anything similar to sadness, sorrow, shed a tear, or just felt bad for Beverly Wilder, then I’ll have done her justice.
Sure, the men in the novel don’t deserve to be murdered, especially Pastor Blair after he’d repented and asked for forgiveness for his sins (although, that may depend on your religious beliefs), but they should be made to pay for what they had done to young Jamie Morgan and her parents. Even though Hunter held the knife, they were all complicit.
In the end, I’m not suggesting frontier justice. I don’t expect all those who are raped to head on out and murder their rapists—although, that does sound quite exciting to me as an author—what I am suggesting is we continue to fight for those who have suffered, and we love those who need it.
I’m fifty-one now, and I’ve seen a lot of pain. I’m sure some of you have seen your fair share of pain as well. I pray and hope we can all add a little light to this world and cast love upon our friends and neighbors, and especially our family.
I’m not being idealistic. I’m sick of watching people hurt each other. Not that it’ll ever end, I know that. But we can at least offer a stranger a smile, hug someone we love and remind them they’re loved, or do something as simple as make someone dinner, as Aaron and the boys did for Sarah.
In the end, we are all loved by someone.
Let’s remind them of that and love someone back.
I love you all.
This book is dedicated to people like Tracie DeOcampo, a survivor, real person whose name deserved a second book. It’s also dedicated to all the women who suffer in silence.
I am a man, and I simply cannot be more disgusted in the men who perpetrate these crimes on women.
I write a female main character for a reason. These are my words, my thoughts, my book. I’ll say it my way, and when the hate mail comes in for this afterword, fuck them. I won’t give them the time of day.