Taken! - Bedeviled (A Taken! Novel Book 17) Page 6

  “Thank you, Jessica, but... who was my real father?”

  “We may never know that,” Mr. White said.

  Jessica had relayed to him the fact that Samantha’s mother once worked in Jeff Roman’s office while he was a regular client of the man. Mr. White said he did remember Kellie Foster, but that he had little interaction with her.

  “Anyway, as far as the law is concerned, you’re still Samantha Ryan,” Jessica said.

  “And once I’m adopted? Should I change my name?”

  Jessica and her husband glanced at each other. They hadn’t considered that.

  “I guess that will be up to you,” Mr. White said.

  “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

  Jessica put an arm around Samantha and pulled her close.

  Samantha stiffened from the contact.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m hugging my daughter. If you don’t like it, that’s tough.”

  Samantha relaxed and leaned against Jessica.

  “My mom used to do this, but I never knew why.”

  Jessica kissed the top of Samantha’s head.

  “She did it because she loved you.”

  “And I killed her,” Samantha whispered, with a tone of regret, and there was a hint of shame in her voice as well.

  Jessica hugged her tighter.

  “You didn’t know any better, and... yes, you’re different, but you’re not so different that you don’t need love and affection. And we do love you, Samantha; it’s why we care enough to adopt you.”

  Samantha said nothing, but the tears Jessica saw rolling down the child’s cheeks spoke volumes.

  CHAPTER 11

  Viola watched with a wide smile as Cassandra greeted Violet’s arrival at a secluded home with a wide driveway.

  Viola had followed her sister to the house and saw that it already had three cars parked in front of it. However, she still had to verify that she had the right home and that Violet hadn’t simply stopped off to visit a friend.

  Viola moved closer to the house by walking through the small patch of woods on its right side. She then realized that she could relax a little. If anyone arrived at the home and saw her, they would just mistake her for her sister. Still, that confusion wouldn’t last for long. Despite being identical twins, their manner of dress and style were vastly different.

  No, it was best to remain unseen. The last thing she wanted was to be taken as a hostage. She would be tortured for information and later killed. Not by Violet, no, Violet could no more harm her then she could harm her sister. But the others would murder her after inflicting torment, as they tried their best to get Prophet’s identity and location out of her.

  Viola made it around to the side of the home and could hear voices. One of them sounded like an older woman and Viola realized that she was hearing Dr. Elena Colt. She had heard the doctor’s voice before on television and knew that she was hearing it again. The doctor was going on about an old case that concerned a serial killer named The King of Killers.

  Not wanting to press her luck, Viola moved back to where she’d left her car. However, before leaving, she skulked around the exterior of the home and took pictures, while noting the entrances and windows.

  After driving away to the parking lot of a nearby strip mall, she called Prophet.

  “Did your plan work?”

  “Yes, I followed my sister to PREY’s new home.”

  “Give me the address.”

  Viola remained silent, and heard Prophet sigh.

  “I give you my word that no harm will come to your sister. She’ll only be rendered unconscious and brought to me.”

  “Rendered unconscious? That sounds dangerous.”

  “Fine, she’ll just be blindfolded and tied up.”

  “And if she still refuses to join us once I’ve talked to her?”

  “I’ll release her.”

  “You promise? Because so help me, as much as I love you, I would kill you if you harmed Violet.”

  “And would that be true of the reverse, what if Violet murdered me? Would you avenge me?”

  “No, but I’d mourn you.”

  Prophet’s laughter carried over the phone.

  “Oh, Viola, I do believe you are too truthful for your own good sometimes. Now, please, give me the address of the house.”

  Viola did so, and also forwarded the pictures of the home she had taken.

  “I need a location where my men can meet you, and then you’ll lead them to the house.”

  “How many men, and who are they?”

  Prophet gave her the names of three serial killers.

  “Why them?” Viola asked.

  “They’re deadly, but they won’t get out of control, and I will make sure that they know not to harm your sister.”

  “The first one you named, Morrison, he’s an animal.”

  “Yes, but he’s also built a respectable life as a cover for his true self. Morrison knows that if he ever crossed me I would destroy him. He’ll behave, but he’ll want to keep one of the women, the youngest.”

  Viola released a sigh as she shuddered.

  “I hate dealing with these men.”

  “They are what they are, Viola; we’re just using them to our own advantage.”

  “Because they would kill anyway?” Viola asked, while already knowing what the response would be. Prophet had justified their mission numerous times before.

  “Yes, and look at Dr. Colt. The old fool has spent her life tracking down these men and killing them, and yet, there are more now than ever. You can’t stop the tide, but you can use it to lift your boat off the shoal.”

  “How soon do you want to do this?”

  “I would love to proceed tonight, but Morrison will need time to travel. We’ll do it tomorrow, after midnight; the men I use will want to have the element of surprise on their side and most of the house will be asleep at that hour.”

  “I’ll come back then; if I kept a watch on the house today and tomorrow someone might spot me.”

  “Come see me and we’ll refine our plans.”

  Viola smiled.

  “Is that all we’ll do?”

  “No, you know I can’t be near you without wanting to touch you.”

  “I’ll be back soon, and Prophet?”

  “Yes?”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Viola, now hurry back.”

  ***

  Prophet smirked after the conversation with Viola ended. The girl was so trusting. Prophet made the calls to the serial killers while speaking in an electronically altered voice, and the three men that Prophet intended to send to the PREY house were informed of their mission.

  Prophet knew that they despised being ordered around, but none of the men had a choice. Besides, Prophet had fed them victims and helped to cover their tracks on more than one occasion. And as soon as PREY was destroyed, they could put their full plan to work. That plan would make them all rich, and feared.

  Prophet leaned back and wondered which was better, to be rich, or to be feared. The laughter began when Prophet realized that there was little difference between the two. The rich were always feared, and those that frightened the populace always generated wealth.

  That wealth usually went to the tabloids and the TV stations that sensationalized violence and murder. The genius of Prophet’s plan was that the wealth would flow to those committing the violence.

  Serial killers had always committed random acts of violence.

  Those days were about to end.

  The violence would be organized by Prophet, and what was organized could certainly be monetized into wealth.

  Prophet laughed, while imagining the future, and began counting the hours until PREY’s demise.

  CHAPTER 12

  The Bennington Correctional Institution sat sheltered by rolling hills and tall trees. It was accessible by car, only by using its long and winding driveway.

  The facility held less than a sco
re of inmates, inmates with very special needs. Eleven of the men were quadriplegics or in comas, while the remaining seven inmates were so severely damaged mentally that they were no longer a threat to themselves or others.

  However, sentences had been handed down, harsh sentences such as life without parole, and the state was required by law to see that they were carried out. Bennington had been constructed after numerous court battles waged by attorneys fighting for the civil liberties of inmates. The lawyers had asserted that housing such physically challenged men among the general population, even in isolation, amounted to cruel and unusual punishment.

  Those same lawyers later performed lucrative legal work for the construction company tasked with building Bennington and the dozens of similar buildings that were subsequently mandated to be constructed in other states by federal law.

  Of course, only a cynic would find a correlation between the attorneys’ pro bono defense of the comatose prisoners’ civil liberties and the subsequent windfall of government contracts awarded to their paying clients.

  In any event, Bennington was a long, one-story brick building. It was a rarity in the world of correctional facilities when it was constructed, in that it had no fences or guard towers. The men housed within its walls were incapable of feeding themselves, much less escaping. The facility’s staff was comprised almost entirely of medical personnel, and at night, only a single armed guard kept watch.

  ***

  The DA, Rebecca Hall, wrinkled her nose at the odor inside Jack’s room.

  The stench was coming from one of Jack’s two roommates, who had just defecated in the adult diaper he wore. Both of Jack’s roommates suffered from severe brain trauma and seemed unaware of Hall’s presence. In truth, they were barely aware of their own presence.

  At Bennington, Jack was known as inmate 16B.

  Inmate 16B had suffered an injury that left him paralyzed from the neck down and in need of a tracheostomy tube to aid in his breathing, but there was nothing wrong with his eyesight or hearing.

  Hall was not alone. Detective Tucci was with her, and the police detective carried over a chair for Hall to sit in beside Jack’s bed.

  Jack, along with two accomplices named Cinda and Harry, had kidnapped Samantha Ryan when she was seven-years-old.

  Mr. White was chosen by Jack to deliver the ransom, and from there, things went downhill for Jack. That included the death of Cinda, a woman that Jack cared for. Cinda was killed by Samantha, while Mr. White injured Jack and placed him in the quadriplegic state he was forced to endure.

  Jack’s full name was Jack Elmore, and Hall addressed him by his surname.

  “Mr. Elmore, what, if anything, can you tell me about Samantha Ryan?”

  Jack released a raspy laugh before speaking in a hoarse voice. Speech was difficult for Jack, because of the tracheostomy tube, but it wasn’t impossible, and he was overjoyed that someone was finally willing to listen to him about Samantha Ryan.

  “That child is the devil... she comes here and taunts me... I despise her.”

  “She comes here to see you? There’s no record of that.”

  “She comes... at night. Sneaks in... I don’t know how... but I swear it’s true.”

  Hall looked over at Tucci.

  “How far would you say the Ryan estate is from here?”

  “Hmm, maybe fifteen miles or so.”

  “Could the girl travel here and back on a bike?”

  “Yeah, but that would be a hell of a trip for a child, and she’d have to avoid being spotted by a cop or a nosey citizen. She’d also have to find a way in and out of here without being spotted. If you ask me, our boy here is full of shit.”

  “No!” Jack roared, and both Hall and Tucci could see that it had cost him something to shout that loud.

  “I’m not lying. That... creature comes here. There’s no pattern, but she comes, and she... she tortures me... by cutting off my air. She killed Cinda.... that little bitch killed my Cinda.”

  Hall had notes about the case on her phone, and she looked them over to find Cinda’s name.

  “Cinda Lyons died when the pickup truck she was using rolled over her. It was an accident.”

  “No accident... that bitch killed her.”

  “There’s no proof of that. However, you once murdered a child in cold blood. I have no sympathy for you whatsoever.”

  Jack sneered.

  “The little bitch killed someone else... didn’t she?”

  “That’s what I believe, yes.”

  “Do me a favor... convict her. If she’s in prison... she won’t come here... I think.”

  “You think? How could she come here if she were locked up?”

  Jack began to weep.

  “The devil can do anything... and that bitch is the devil.”

  ***

  Tucci’s partner, Detective Dan Carlyle was with the attorney, Lionel Wentworth.

  The two men were at the Ryan estate where Wentworth was gathering documents that were pertinent to Samantha’s looming adoption, as well as the dissolution of Brendan Ryan’s holdings.

  A police representative needed to be present, and so Carlyle had ridden along in Wentworth’s car. Carlyle and Tucci’s unmarked police car was in the municipal garage having some overdue maintenance performed on it.

  Carlyle was swiveling around in Brendan Ryan’s office chair while Wentworth looked through an oak filing cabinet.

  “So, let me get this straight, the guy who owned all this was actually flat broke?”

  “My client owed hundreds of millions of dollars. With luck and a lot of work, his liquidated holdings will pay back half of it.”

  “I saw his name in the paper this morning. Did he really try to overthrow a government?”

  Wentworth wagged a finger at the detective.

  “Dead client or not, there are some things I won’t discuss.”

  Carlyle grinned.

  “I get you, and take your time. I’m in no hurry to get back to the station.”

  Carlyle spun the huge leather chair around until he was looking out the wide picture window behind the desk. When the voices began shouting at Wentworth, Carlyle had been drifting off to sleep. The top of the chair was higher than his head, and with his hands resting in his lap, he realized that he hadn’t been seen or detected.

  “Where are they?” an accented voice said, as another yelled. “Tell us or die!”

  Wentworth made a groaning sound and slid to the floor. A man with a gun had just hit him on the forehead with the weapon.

  Carlyle slipped his gun out, pinpointed the voices as coming from the area by the filing cabinet, and spun around in the chair.

  There were two men, both Black and of average height and weight. One of the men had a gun pointed at Wentworth’s prone body, while the other was down on one knee and held a knife to the man’s throat. Both men had their right sides turned towards Carlyle.

  “Police! Drop the weapons!” Carlyle cried, as he steadied his arms atop the desk.

  The man with the gun spun towards him and Carlyle shot him in the chest. A look of panic entered the eyes of the man holding the knife. His gaze shifted from Carlyle, then down to the man Carlyle had shot, and who was laying atop the carpet, moaning and bleeding.

  “Drop the knife or I’ll shoot you too,” Carlyle said, and the man wisely tossed the blade away.

  When the man spoke, Carlyle heard the thick African accent.

  “I want a lawyer.”

  “It won’t be me,” said Wentworth. He had risen from the floor and backed away from his attackers.

  Once Carlyle had the man handled, Wentworth assured the detective that he was fine and only received a lump on the head. Carlyle took out his phone to call in the assault and shooting. As he did so, he wondered what the hell was going on.

  CHAPTER 13

  While sharing a drink, Hall and Tucci discussed Jack’s assertions about Samantha. But when Carlyle’s call came in regarding the two men who attacked Wentwo
rth at the Ryan estate, Hall and Tucci weren’t sure what to make of things.

  Hall had taken Tucci’s phone and spoken to Carlyle. Carlyle told her that Wentworth denied knowing why he was attacked.

  “Here’s the thing though, the two guys that attacked Wentworth are originally from Umgawai. That’s the same African country where Brendan Ryan once owned diamond mines; there has to be a connection, Miss Hall. It’s too big a coincidence.”

  “That doesn’t mean that it has anything to do with Mrs. Ryan’s murder,” Hall said.

  “Maybe, maybe not, but all of a sudden the lawyer is giving off a weird vibe.”

  “I’ll question him when we get back, unofficially, and good work, Detective.”

  Hall handed Tucci his phone.

  “Your partner was lucky. Two against one could have ended badly.”

  Tucci stood and tossed money on the bar.

  “Yeah, I need to get back and check on him.”

  Hall smiled at Tucci.

  “You worry about your partner, I like that, Al.”

  “Does that mean that we can do dinner sometime?”

  “Yes, as soon as this case is finished. Speaking of that, let’s hurry back, there’s a judge I need to talk to and I want to see these men who attacked Wentworth. It will also be interesting to see if they’re bailed out, and if so, by whom.”

  “Are you starting to doubt that the kid killed the old lady?”

  “Maybe, but I still think she’s an odd little bitch.”

  Tucci laughed.

  “I’m with you there, and if what Jack said is true, I wouldn’t get on her bad side for no reason. Who knows, maybe she’ll start paying you visits in the middle of the night.”

  “Don’t even joke about that,” Hall said, as the two of them left the bar.

  ***

  Jessica and her husband watched Samantha as she spent time with Liam and Emma.

  The children seemed to fascinate Samantha, particularly Liam, and she displayed patience whenever she was with them.

  “I have a brother and a sister now,” Samantha said, as the realization struck her.