Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible

New Living Testament, copyright ©1996, 2004

Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishing, Inc.

Quotations used by permission from Bartleby.com ©1993-2004

__________

Prelude

Lee Austin and Freddy come head-to-head with one another. Convicts break out of prison. A rapist/killer is on the loose. The basketball team goes to the state finals, but will they capture the championship?

Take all this and new characters coming into the mix, and new love interests are sparked. Other love triangles deepen; and Leon has returned. What will become of him, and how will this affect Baker. Freddy sets the time for a final face-off with Baker. What will all of this do to the city of Montie?

__________

Excerpt

Somewhere in Columbus, Ohio -11:03 a.m.

A tall man jumped out from behind a clump of bushes from the side of Mackinaw Road. At one time it was a hundred-mile stretch of blacktop that used to be a trail that would lead you from Columbus to Cincinnati back in the day. Almost seventy years ago, three large sinkholes ended that idea. Now, if it’s used for anything, it’s either to bring a date there to make out with or dump your trash.

In this case, Johnny “Baby Boy” Jackson, just finished making out with a chubby sixteen-year-old girl who begged and pleaded with him not to hurt her.

Johnny had snatched her from a bus station in Columbus, punched her in the mouth to shut her up until he got to Mackinaw Road.

He kept his promise not to hurt her after he raped her brutally. To Johnny, sex isn’t brutal, sex is all about feeling good, and when he gets rough; to him, that feels wonderful.

But he kept his promise not to hurt her anymore. He broke her neck.

In a notebook in his car, he wrote her name down: Natalie. 16. Number 41. The first one? Ellaine Mae Jackson. 62.

His mother.

__________

If you try to hang onto your life, you will lose it.

But if you give up your life for my sake,

you will save it. Matthew - 16: 25

Painful for man is rebellious independence when it has

become inevitable, only in loving companionship with

his fellows does he feel safe; only in reverently bowing

down before the Higher does he feel himself exalted – Thomas Carlyl

The way I see it, no sense in hanging onto a life that’s going

to end one way or the other. After all, like taxes, death is

inevitable, and if you get on my radar—trust me, it will

happen, and it won’t be pretty – Freddy

__________

Lee followed George Lassiter from the Hightower Inn, one of the better hotel’s in Ankara. There were four high-priced hotels. Lee had called all four, asking if either a Lassiter, Jerry Miller or Tracey McPhearson had registered.

When he found out George Lassiter had been staying at the Hightower for two days, Lee suspected he might not have much time to hunt him down before he would be out of Turkey and onto someplace else.

It wasn’t until Saturday night when he spotted his target making his way across cobblestone streets, passing under brightly lit windows holding glassware (hand blown), clothing shops, or a local food or fruit store with people inside, seemingly all talking at once, each bartering for a good deal.

Lee followed at what he considered to be at a safe distance and would do so until he knew the time was right to make his move. He didn’t want any of the locals to get in the way or killed.

Lee continued to watch as George slipped through a doorway and went up a single flight of steps.

Lee waited twenty minutes. He then watched as George retraced the steps he had climbed until he reached the open doorway. Quickly, George looked left, then to his right.

Lee pulled out his Styler 9mm, cocked the hammer ever so lightly and fired point blank at George’s head. But it was the surrounding silence and the slight tick of the hammer pulled back that gave George a half-second edge, for he literally dodged a bullet.

Lee was angry at himself. He should have known better.

He saw George duck down into the shadows around the doorway, and then he heard what sounded like police sirens. He ditched the Styler in a place where he would later come back for it. He still had his .38 on him. He could carry in Turkey, and it hadn’t been fired.

“Freddy,” he whispered, “you got a free pass this time.”

What Lee didn’t know was that Freddy had circled around Lee and took up a position neither Lee nor the Kurdish police knew of.

As Lee was questioned by the police for his name, passport, and gun permit, and as to why he is in the area at such a late time of night and had he heard any gunfire. His responses well-rehearsed was, “I’m a tourist from the United States and just exploring. I thought I heard a loud bang, but I didn’t hear any shooting.”

Freddy committed to memory all he heard and saw.

When he arrived in Rome. He would look into this Lee Austin.

Monday – October 29th

The Squad Room – 8:31 a.m.

“Just a couple more things.

“For those of you who haven’t checked you inbox, you will find a facsimile on one Johnny “Baby Boy” Jackson, who isn’t anyone’s baby boy any longer. He is forty-six, six-three, two-twenty, and sports tat’s up and down both arms.

“He was released from the Nebraska State prison last January and is considered extremely dangerous. His rap sheet tallies eight rape convictions since age sixteen; two of which were his mother and sister. And of those two, he murdered his mother, but the court couldn’t convict because somehow the evidence had been tampered with somehow.

“Currently, he is wanted in Michigan, Illinois, and Ohio with seventeen charges of rape, and over three dozen homicides. He hasn’t made his way into our state to my knowledge, but we have been put on alert for this individual. If you spot him, call for backup, then arrest him.”

“What if he doesn’t want to come along peaceable-like?” asked Clinton.

“Based on any aggressive action on his part, you do what you have to do, but first do your best to bring him in unharmed, wounded—or if need be, dead.

“Now onto some good news. Next Monday, Johnathan Prescott will be returning to active duty.”

A few cheers were raised and a smattering of applause, along with a few well-meaning comments, such as, “Probably all fat and lazy from all that good food Andrews been feeding him.”

Then Clinton opened his mouth.

“From all the sex he’s been getting, he’ll be as useless as tits on a bull.”

“All right guys, that’s enough, and Clinton? Keep your opinions to yourself.”

Baker looked around the room and asked, “Anyone have any questions? If not, then get out there and stay safe and keep our streets safe.”

As everyone filed out of the room, Rick Lowery came up to Baker.

“I was wondering if Montie’s basketball team is making another run for another Divisional Championship. Do you think they can do it again?”

“Hard to tell, but I hope so, Lowery. It would be great to see them go all the way and win the state championship this time.”

“I think they have a good shot at it. Your son, Stevie, and Ron Snyder, are the top two shooter’s.”

“There are three regular season games left,” added Dianne. “Two home games against Stanhouse and Williamsburg and the last game they play at Brimford.”

“Yeah, but Brimford and Stanhouse are both tied for second and a game behind The Pythoners,” said Terrance. “They need to beat both of them to lock in the county championship. Either way it’s been a hell of a season.”

“Either way, I think we’ve analyzed this enough. You and Lowery need to get out there and do what you do best. Just keep your eyes open if you do spot Jackson. If he’s carrying, it would be a hunting knife and a .32 Remington. It’s all in the report in your inbox.”

As Terrance and Lowery left, Baker walked into the break room, stuck a quarter and a dime in the coffee machine, pressed extra cream, extra sugar, waited three minutes, then grabbed her cup and made her way back to her office. Just as she made it to the door, she saw Satchell about to leave his office.

“Busy day already, Satchell?”

“You can say that. I have a meeting with the Mayor at 9:30. At 10:30, I have a meeting with the Fire Marshall, Sam Jessup. From there, I head over to Montie High and give the annual speech, aka lecture on safety. At noon, lunch with Samantha. After that, it’s whatever comes up next.”

“You and Samantha are becoming quite the item lately.”

Satchell smiled a sheepish grin.

“I know. The whole thing was more of a surprise for me than anyone else. I wasn’t looking, but looking for, found me. I can thank my brother-in-law and his wife for that. They hatched the whole thing up, though Don denies he had a hand in it, and now, well; I’m grateful to them.”

“You look happy, Satchell. I know it was hard on you when June died, but now, you look. Oh, I don’t know … reborn maybe? Either way, I am happy for you both.”

“Thanks, Baker. You’ll have to excuse me, but I need to get a move on. Talk with you later. Give my best to Ed and Stevie.”

As Satchell took the steps down to get to the parking garage to his car, Baker went inside her office and sat at down at her desk and started checking her email.

There wasn’t anything of major importance but as she sipped her coffee, she let her mind drift back. Back to the night little Leon Hargrove showed up at her front door all the way from Tomahawk, North Carolina, almost 650 miles away. His appearance was just one of the mini-to-major events that took place.

Sunday Night – August 19th

All four sat around the dining room table and listened as Leon explained why he came back.

“After momma died, the three of you took me in, no questions asked. And honestly, I was scared. You all being white, me black, and you,” he pointed at Baker, “being a cop.”

He tilted his head down and took a deep breath.

“Then, things started going good. I mean, like Stevie, he, well; I kinda looked at him like an older brother. I could talk to him, and we did stuff together. And when you guys went places together, you took me with you. It felt like a second chance at having a real family again. Then comes momma’s sister.”

“Leon, did she mistreat you in any way?” asked Ed.

“No, sir. Well, she didn’t beat me if that’s what you mean. But she lives darn close in the middle of nowhere. No way for me to make any real friends and the kids I did meet on the school bus and in school, lived too far from me. Nearest one was Darnell Foster and he was about three miles away. Aunt Lynetta got no cable, no TV. She says all that stuff is sinful.

"She had plenty of money though to spend on her drinkin' and partyin' with her friends.

Heck, they still use a separate building to go to the bathroom they call an outhouse! Never seen one before and hope I never see one again! That’s where you poop and pee, and it smells! One time I thought I was gonna fall in!

“I don’t like it there. I don’t like living in the country. I want to live here, in Montie. I want to live here with all of you! Please?

“Besides,” and this was when Leon started to cry, “my momma is buried here.”

Baker blinked her eyes, took another sip of her coffee, and realized it had gone cold. Going back to the coffee machine for a second cup, she remembered the conversation she had with Judge Edmund Carson the very next day.

Monday – August 20th

Judge Carson’s Chambers – 9:30 a.m.

“Lieutenant, the boy has to be returned to Mrs. Mason. She is his legal guardian and currently his sole caretaker.”

“Actually, Judge Carson, she isn’t. What I found out this morning before I came here is that what remained of Leon’s mother’s money from the insurance policy, Mrs. Mason pretty much pocketed with the pretext of using it for Leon. And from what I understand, little to none of that has happened.”

“This is an issue for the State of North Carolina to handle. This is out of our authority.”

“Let me ask you, Judge Carson, if I can get Mrs. Mason to allow me to adopt Leon up here, would that suffice all parties concerned?”

“I would say it would. But is that what you want to do?”

“I have, ever since Leon’s mother died.”

“Then you want to do this out of a sense of responsibility?”

“Not at all. I want to do this because he needs guidance, love, and a feeling of belonging.

He doesn’t have that with Mrs. Mason.”

“Then here is what you must do for the time being. First: place him under foster care. Second: have foster care services notify the nearest County Courthouse wherever this Tomahawk place is located and have them notified of your intent. At which point, they will notify the boy’s aunt, this Mrs. Mason, of your intention to adopt.

“Be on notice Lieutenant, if she says no to your intent to adopt, you will have no legal recourse or responsibility for the boy. Are we clear on this?”

“We are, Judge.”

“If in fact she agrees, only then can you apply with the proper paperwork for adoption. You may have to wait up to ninety days. If, after that time, everything appears to be in order, then the boy, Leon Hargrave, will legally be your son, with either your last name, or your actual married last name.”

And that’s where things stood for a week.

Two days later, Stevie came up to her and said he wanted to play basketball, as well as coach.

Wednesday – August 27th

111 Homestead Lane – 6:45 p.m.

“Stevie, you had a concussion from playing baseball. The doctor said that in sports, concussions can happen often and sometimes you won’t even know it; a simple accidental head bump. An elbow to the side of the head. I don’t want to see you injured or impaired the rest of your life.”

“I know, mom. But I promise that won’t happen. I’ll be really careful. Besides, remember last season? I was never touched at all. I’ll be careful, honest I will. I just want to help the guys fulfill a promise we made for Jimmy. We dedicated our season to him.”

“Tell you what, Bub. We’ll go first appointment I can make to see the specialist. Let him run a few tests. If he determines you can’t play due to potential risks, you don’t play. If he clears you; done deal.”

As it stood, it was a done deal.

All during that time, the Twenty-Second was just not watching over Montie, they were collecting donations by check and cash at the Montie Arena. The T-shirts Stevie supplied were selling faster than expected. And, come that weekend, Stevie, Ellie, and all of his teammates, and Ellie’s parents, were knocking on as many doors as they could. The citizens of Montie gave and gave freely. Many gave as much as three or four times until the drive was over. When the final tally was made: $206,516.73 went to Jerry’s Kids.

Even so, there was both a happy and sad moment for Stevie. He, along with Ron, Dale, Carl Jr., DeWayne, and of course, Ellie, were all gathered at The Pit-Stop to have a last night with together with their friend, Jimmy Kerrigan.

One of the many team photographers from last year was taken from the school’s showcase and all the guys signed it and gave it to Jimmy.

Stevie looked directly into Jimmy’s eyes.

“This year, we all agreed to dedicate this season to the best basketball player Montie ever had. When we have our first game next Friday night, we’re going to retire your number, and just like the NBA, we’ll hang it in the gym where everyone can see it.”

It was both a good and bad time that night. The bad part was saying goodbye to a friend. That was the last night of the campaign for Jerry’s Kids.

Blinking her eyes and finishing her coffee, Baker glanced at the clock on the wall.

“Oh, hell! I promised Ed, I’d meet him at,”

Her cell rang.

“Baker.”

“You alright, Jan? I’ve been at Lucy’s twenty minutes and,”

“Say no more. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

Rastabella’s – 12:45 p.m.

“Lunch was delicious, John. Thank you.”

“Glad you enjoyed. I don’t come here very often, but when I do, I’ve never been disappointed.”

“What are your plans this week?”

“I have to attend a three-day seminar in Rochester from Wednesday to Friday. Tomorrow, I’ll catch up on as much paperwork as I can, but I’ll be free for the weekend.”

Samantha smiled.

“Free enough to spend the weekend at my house?”

“That sounded more like a statement of fact than a question.”

“Then, let’s call it a fact.”

“You talked me into it, Sam.”

Lucy’s Restaurant – 1:20 p.m.

Ed slipped an envelope across the table to Baker.

Looking inside, she saw one-hundred tickets to this weekend’s game.

“They are for any of the guys at the Station who want to see the game. All center-court seats, halfway up the bleacher stands, with a great view.”

“Ed, you didn’t have to do this.”

“I know, but I’m still a part of them when they walk in and out of that building every day. Besides, when the Pythoners win this weekend, and Stanhouse loses to Palymera, they’ll witness Montie clinching a Divisional Championship two years in a row. They are on the fringe of doing something no other school in the state has done: two back-to-back undefeated seasons!”

“Okay, okay, slow down, Mr. Excitement.” Baker smiled. “You are just a special kind of guy, you know that?”

“Of course, I do. You tell me that every day.”

“Brat.”

Baker poured coffee into her cup from the carafe and asked, “How are the studies going?”

“Online, okay. When I’m on campus in Brighton, the real-time classes are hard. Professor Simms is saying I’m making progress, but there are times when I feel as if things are slipping away from me.”

“Listen to Simms and not your head. If he says you’re doing good, believe it. I know it’s challenging work of a different order, but in four months it’ll be over with.”

“Then comes the bar exam the first Monday in January. That’s what scares me the most.”

“No reason to be scared, Ed. It’s paper with words on it. It isn’t going to reach out and do anything to you. You’ll be fine.”

“I know that, but if I do fail, I have to wait sixty days to take it over.”

“Stop worrying, Ed. You’ll ace it the first time out. You’re a smart man. I have all the confidence in the world you’ll pass.”

As they finished their lunch, Ed said, “Jan, I have to get back to the house. I have an online class at 2:45.”

“And I need to get back to my office. I have a few loose ends to wrap up before tomorrow.”

“Not to worry, I’ll be with you. I’m sure you’ll be given approval to adopt Leon.”

“God, I hope so.”

Baker’s Office – 2:53 p.m.

Baker had to get her monthly reports in order, then put them all on a disk. In doing so, she took a few minutes to get back to another solemn moment for the city, as well as fireworks to signify the end of summer.

It was the Friday before Labor day when she had been granted permission to take Leon with her, along with Stevie and Ed to the city park, where the largest ever display of colors would be seen.

For Leon, this was a special moment. Most firework displays in the past he could only see from a window. This would be his first time this close to all the explosions hurtling to the night sky.

Three hours long and it ended with the lighting of three specialty made displays. The first was the Statue of Liberty, who, when lit up was all in neon-blue and twenty feet tall. Then came the American Bald Eagle which drew many cheers and whistles, and finally, the American Flag. And what happened at that moment could have been written into a movie script.

There were nearly 10,000 people in and around the park and not a single person was sitting. Everyone was standing. Baker heard some people start singing the Star-Spangled Banner while others recited the Pledge of Allegiance. Make no mistake; Montie is a proud city.

But that wasn’t the only special day.

September 11thsaw the Montie Area packed to the rafters. Just as with last year, five families were recognized along with their loved ones who had died, were memorialized.

The Montie Hugh School Band would play Stars and Stripes, America the Beautiful, and of course, the Star-Spangled Banner.

Mayor Marsh, Captain Page, Governor Hawley, all gave rousing speeches. One person from each of the families spoke. When you heard their words, you would be hard-pressed to find a dry eye.

Then, something unexpected happened.

A man stood up from the audience, walked across the floor to the podium and as he did, he was slowly being recognized by each person he passed. When he finally made his way to the podium, he looked at Mayor Marsh, his hand extended for the microphone and said, “May I.” She stood back, as surprised as those who saw him, handed him the microphone, and walked over to her husband, clasping his arm, and smiled.

Looking out at the crowd he said, “I came here today because of your community, your willingness to help a neighbor or a stranger without being asked. I came here to witness your support, your love, and your continual courage to support those who have fallen; of those who have unknowingly gave their lives that we can have our right to freedom.

“I am here to say thank you, and God bless each and every one of you.”

Then, he walked around the podium, and he started singing. He sang from Minnesota to L.A.; words at that moment made everyone in the Arena, Proud to be an American.

Surprisingly, almost everyone in the Arena sang right along with Lee Greenwood.

Leon tugged at Baker’s arm. He didn’t know who he was until Baker explained it to him.

“But can he rap?”

Baker snapped out of her daydreaming again and saw it was nearly 4:30.

Another quiet day. Just the way she liked it.

6637 Dusty Lane – 5:45 p.m.

If you were to look inside the garage, you would see a compact car and a Chevy half-ton truck parked side by side.

If you were to look in the kitchen, you would see two men enjoying dinner together.

Patrick and J.W. had taken that leap of faith and vowed to be there for each other. It was on this night; they gave each other a special gift.

Patrick gave J.W. a necklace shaped into a crescent moon that held ten diamond chips. When J.W. gave his gift, he felt a little embarrassed, but when Patrick opened it, he saw it was the same exact thing he had given J.W.

“You got this from A Touch of Grace before they left, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I asked if she could make me something special for someone I cared for.”

“How oddly interesting is that. I pretty much said the same thing to her. It’s almost as if she knew about us.”

“Maybe she did. After all, it did seem her touch affected many of us while she was here.”

“I love you, Patrick.”

“And I love you, James.”

Johnson County Airport – 6:23 p.m.

Lee Austin returned after an exhaustive, and almost successful trip. The next time he went after Freddy, he would have a better plan and one that would work. He wasn’t about to let Freddy get away from him.

Tuesday – October 30th

The Squad Room – 8:36 a.m.

“One last thing before you take off. My ever-studious husband handed me a hundred tickets to this weekend’s game between the Pythoners and Brimford. He is of the opinion Montie will win and that Stanhouse will crumble against Palymera, which gives Montie the Divisional Championship. The tickets is his gift to any of you who isn’t working then, that want to see the game.”

“You know what?” Charlie Banyard said. “If I wasn’t already married, I’d take Ed away from you.”

The room broke into a roar of laughter.

“Charlie, nothing personal, but if you tried, I’d have to shoot you in a place that would require you to sit down the rest of your life to pee, which would really upset your wife.”

Charlie grabbed his crotch and winced.

“You been talking to my wife? She’s said that to me a time or two herself.”

Baker grinned.

“Those of you who want to go, pick up a ticket before the game. They’ll be down at the front desk. Just ask Spinelli for one.

“And if there aren’t any questions, get out there and stay safe and keep our streets safe.”

Baker went into the break room and saw two chocolate glazed dough nuts left from this morning’s delivery. She picked them up and along with her machine-oiled coffee, took them back to her office.

“Eat your heart out, Ed, these puppies are mine.”

With her computer at the ready. She decided to see what if anything interesting was going on in Freddy’s world.

She did a practiced search continent by continent of recent murders, and found fifty-seven hits, but the most recent ones were three and five days apart, but she still went through all of them. By 12:30, counting the two most recent, she narrowed down at least seven victims that could have fallen from Freddy’s handiwork. Three for certain as the details explained the cutthroat and open chest wounds. The other four were victims shot in either the back of the head or into the front of the brain.

Now and then, Baker will click on a foreign newspaper to see what news they carried. She read a blurb in the Ankara Turkish newspaper. No, she can’t read Turkish, Kurdish or Arabic, but the power of the Internet can transform any page to English with a mouse click

.

Seems there had been an American at the scene of a recent murder of one, Halib al’ Arimenia. The person who was questioned, and later released by authorities was Lee Austin. He was escorted to a city bus back to Sofia, Bulgaria. He claimed he was there only as a tourist which couldn’t be proven a truth or lie.

“Austin? Couldn’t be.”

Even though she hadn’t really looked for him, she hadn’t seen him around much either. Fact was, even his Ford Bronco wasn’t around his apartment either.

Baker made it a point to stop by Jack and Peggy Mavern’s home and ask when they last saw Lee. She had a gut reaction that Lee was trying to hunt down Freddy with the intent to kill him, but she didn’t have any proof. Yet.

The death of Halib though, didn’t go into any detail other than to say he was a common merchant. She ruled out a professional hit. They did mention a savage butchery. This could have been Freddy’s work. There were no other telling details.

Baker sent off an email to Turkish authorities in hopes they could send her anything she could use. Once she hit send, she finished the last bite of the second doughnut and stared out her solitary office window.

With Lee Austin and Freddy forgotten for the moment, she thought back to another good day when she looked at the clock on the wall. 1:35.

She almost lost track of time. Her court date for adoption proceedings was 2:00.

As she made her way there, only a block away, she thought back about the phone call she received from Lynette Odell Mason. She called a week after Leon went into Protective Services.

This be that Lieutenant lady who wants to adopt my nephew, Leon?

Oh, hello, Mrs. Mason. I wasn’t expecting you to call.

What? You think I forgot what you’re doin’ to me?

I beg your pardon.

Beg me all you want, missy. By you havin’ him in that proactive program up there,

You mean Protective Services?

Don’cha interrupt me when I’m talkin! But with him there, there’s no way I can get into that boy’s account.

Why do you feel you need to?

Because, well, I … it’s just that I needs that money to take care of him, and he’ll need money to come back here.

Baker remembered the frustration and nervousness in the woman’s voice, as well as the deceit.

Mrs. Mason, let me ask you a direct and simple question, and I want a simple and direct answer back.

What question?

Since you are so concerned over Leon’s money, I am willing and able to compensate you for your apparent grief and financial troubles. I am willing to give you $100,000 providing you sign a legal document stating you relinquish your guardianship and give your permission allowing me to adopt Leon.

You say a-hunnert-thousand’ dollars?

I did.

“How soon?

It can be Federal Expressed to you within 24-36 hours. Once I receive the signed document from you, and after it has been turned into the court, I will contact you, and you will receive your money.”

Hold on, now! I want my money first!

Mrs. Mason, you will receive a check outright for ten thousand. Once I receive the signed statement and have it filed with the court here, you will receive the balance.

How a cop like you have that kin’a money?

The lottery. Do we have a deal or not.

Within six days, it was signed, sealed, and delivered.

As far as Lynetta Odell Mason was concerned, her name wouldn’t come up again for twenty-eight years, but Leon never attended her funeral.

County Courthouse

Civil Court – Room 103 – 2:00 p.m.

“All rise,” said the bailiff.

“Presiding in and for Johnson County, the Honorable Judge Marie Evans Longstreet.”

Judge Longstreet entered from her chamber door, her black robe flowing as if gathered up by a gentle breeze, and then she sat behind her bench.

“You may be seated.”

In the courtroom sat Baker, another Assistant D.A. named Oliver, and Ed, who sat to her right in one of the seats behind her, the bailiff, stenographer, and of course, the judge.

The bailiff spoke again.

“Let it be known that Case Docket 21167-C, is hereby brought before this court today, October 30, 2012.”

The judge looked over the findings in the report before her, as well as other documents laid before her. After nearly two minutes of deafening silence, she looked out onto the courtroom and spoke.

“This is a judgement in the case of the defendant, Lieutenant Janis Lorraine Baker-Manning, to have sole and full custody of one Leon Hargrove.

“I also have before me, a sworn statement signed by the boy’s aunt, who, so it appears, voluntarily has given up her legal right and guardianship as it is so addressed with her signature.

“Lieutenant Baker, please tell the court, how you, a police officer, can offer Leon Hargrave a safe and stable family upbringing, especially with your line of work.”

Baker stood and cleared her throat.

“Your Honor, in the nearly last three years, many changes have affected my life and the lives of my family. I lived through my son’s anguish and pain over the loss of his father, only to watch him rise above this and grow into the young man he is now and the man he will become.

“Where I once thought I would never marry again, that also changed. With that change, the three of us became a unified family, a single unit, if you will. They know and understand what I do. My husband used to be a police officer and I’m sure everyone here knows his story.

“Yes, I am a police officer sworn to uphold the law. But I am also a mother as well as a wife, and one day I want another child. I want grand kids. I want to be able to give my kids the best life possible even if that means my life may one day be forfeit.

“I will give Leon no less than love and support as I would my own son. Every child deserves the chance to grow up and have a good, if not great life.

“That’s it, Your Honor. I have nothing more to say.”

“Well put, Lieutenant, and this court is well aware of your exemplary courage, and also that of your husband.”

Judge Longstreet reached to her right and picked up a third stack of papers.

“These are letters that were sent to me on your behalf. Over a hundred letters from co-workers, neighbors, and friends. Each letter speaks highly of you and each one recommends that this court grant permission to allow you to begin adoption proceedings.

“Before I grant said permission, for a period of six months, someone from Social Services will check on you, Leon, and your family. They will also look into his school to see how he adapts. If, after six months, reports to this court are favorable, I see no reason why adoption proceedings cannot be finalized at that time. This court will notify you by mail, email, and by phone. If there are any changes during that six-month period, again, you will be notified. Until that time, I hereby grant you temporary custody of Leon Hargrove.”

Looking to her right, Judge Longstreet she said, “Bailiff, have Irene James come into the courtroom.”

Baker was relieved. She looked back at Ed; whose smile was as broad as her own.

The doors opened to the courtroom and in walked Irene James and to her left, Leon. He broke free of Irene’s hand and ran right up to Baker. He wrapped his small arms around her waist.

“Leon, for the time being, we are going home.”

Judge Longstreet spoke again.

“This court is adjourned.”

“All rise.”

Once Judge Longstreet disappeared, Baker, and Ed, left the courthouse with Leon between them.

Montie High – 3:16 p.m.

Baker’s red Hummer pulled up alongside Stevie’s car.

“Stevie! Stevie!” yelled Leon.

“Hey, buddy! You’re back with us?” He looked at his mom and she nodded.

“This is awesome. You want to go home with me, then?”

Leon looked at Baker.

“Can I, momma?”

A flash of a tear glistened in her right eye. She looked past Leon to Stevie.

“You make sure you come straight home from practice. No stopping off anywhere to show off your new brother.”

“No problem, mom. Ellie just left with her mom. They went shopping. Practice is only an hour. We’ll be home in no time.”

Leon hugged Baker again and said, “Thank you for wanting me.” Then he turned and hopped out of the Hummer, ran up to Stevie, did a high-five, and bumped fists.

Today turned out to be a good day after all.

Tonight, she would explain how she wouldn’t be able to adopt Leon until at least March, but as long as things went smoothly, it would happen.

Ed reinforced her words. “Can do. Will do.”

Wednesday – October 31st

The Squad Room – 8:30 a.m.

“It’s good to see you have all dressed up for Halloween this year. You all look like cops. Simply amazing.”

Davis yelled out, “Don’t quit your day job, Baker!”

“I know, I know, but today is Halloween. Kids will be out trick or treating up until around nine tonight. Just keep an extra-special watch out there. Beyond that, if no one has any questions, get out there and stay safe and keep our streets safe.”

Back in her office, Baker started to finish the monthly reports from yesterday. After which, she would file all the other reports from all three shifts that always ended up on her desk, and from there, they would end up on Satchell’s desk.

He would have hard copies made as well as putting everything on a disk in triplicate to be sent to three regional offices in Albany, Buffalo, and New York City, where the FBI and CIA would have direct access if necessary.

As per usual, they in turn would look at any red flags that would show up on arrests or tickets, to check against their data base for any wants and warrants.

As far as Baker was concerned, once the reports left her desk, she could care less what happened to them. Part of her job description was to ensure reports were filled in correctly, properly dated and filed. Once they got to the FBI and CIA, they could handle them any way they chose.

Once she finished transferring data on the last of nine disks, where Satchell would make additional copies to send out; she sat back in her chair and thought back to a set of wedding vows said.

“No matter where you are, I will always be by your side. It doesn’t matter if the day is clear or stormy. It doesn’t matter if you become sick, I will be there to help you get well.

“For better or worse, and today is the beginning of every day becoming better. I will comfort you as my lover, my wife, my absolute best friend.

“Never will I love you as much as I do now, and this love will never falter but only strengthen, in all ways, Dianne.”

“Johnathan, you came when least expected in my life. Over time, I understood you became my reason to love again. To start fresh and give myself to you. As you are my lover, so too are you my husband, and always will be my best friend.

“And whether we become richer or poorer, it doesn’t matter. With you by my side, as I will be by yours; we will always have a richness in spirit that will diminish poor, and we will become far more blessed with our personal richness than with all the wealth possible.

“I have your life and you have mine, from now and beyond all time.”

Baker gave a sly smile for then the minister, Victor Donaldson, cleared his throat and pronounced them husband and wife. It was what followed that brought that smile.

As Johnathan was about to reach in and kiss Dianne, she held up one finger.

“I forgot one part. You have to promise not to get shot ever again.”

Baker remembered the weekend of her first anniversary. Ed drove her up to Albany to the Harrison Arms Hotel, one of those five-star places that cater to everything, even your underwear if necessary.

Three days, two nights of non-stop (they did sleep, shower, eat, watched an off-Broadway play, and walked the city park for an hour) sex.

The bed was oval-shaped and came with several vibration settings. There had been a large, reddish-velvet colored curtain that would open to an expansive patio where an assortment of flowers bloomed with a continuous flowing waterfall. At night, it was lit up with several colored lamps, and with the waterfall just behind the flowers it set a mood only lovers could understand.

Thinking about it now, it seemed much longer since that happened than just after Johnathan and Dianne married.

Dianne and she were similar in one respect. They both found a second chance at love when they least expected it.

In the beginning, Baker’s loss was in a divorce. Her ex, Mark, left her for another man. That in itself was a brutal blow. With Dianne, she lost her husband, Kenneth Allan, more commonly known as “Bear,” to cancer.

But things have a way of working themselves out. She has Ed, Dianne has Johnathan, and it’s all good. And the beauty of all this; Satchell may also be dancing in the wedding aisle one day. Almost sounds like that song, ‘Love Is In The Air’ from that old TV show, ‘The Love Boat.’

So much for daydreaming.

Baker got on her landline and called information for Jack and Peggy Malvern. Once she had the number, she asked the operator to connect her. Three rings later, a woman’s voice answered.

“Is this Peggy Malvern?”

“It is, who’s calling?”

“Lieutenant Baker from the Twenty-Second.”

“Oh. Is something wrong?”

“I hope not. I’m calling about your nephew, Lee. Have you seen or heard from him recently?”

“One moment, Lieutenant.”

She could hear Peggy’s somewhat muffled voice say, “Lee, there is a Lieutenant Baker asking about you.

“Lieutenant, he’s coming to the phone.”

“Hello, Lieutenant. How can I help you?”

“Answer a few questions for me Lee, and please, don’t lie to me.”

“Ask. I’ve nothing to hide.”

“You have a license to carry a firearm, correct?”

“Yes.”

“You have gone into business as a private investigator?”

“Yes.”

“And you were in Turkey, namely Ankara, as recently as five days ago?”

“Ah … yes.”

“Mr. Austin, I would like you to stop by my office today at one o’clock.”

“That would be good.”

Both phones hung up at the same time.

London – 10:30 a.m.

A new store would open soon, three blocks east of Parliament Square in London. An oversized truck pulled up to what used to be Willis Tobacco Shoppe. But that would soon change.

Shelves and other materials were unloaded along with a brand-new sign: Touched By An Angel.

With the help of her two sons, she would open in two days and sales, as always, would be tremendous. But it was never about money. The money brought in took care of their basic necessities and nothing more. I was about sharing those special moments with people and leaving joy and contentment with the people.

In Angel Milton’s smock pocket was a plastic bag holding a locket of hair. She must never misplace or lose it until the evil was destroyed, just as she eviscerated the house of the Doll Maker and placed that woman Bethany, who she knows as Kiera, in a special place where she would never escape from.

That in itself, was the most demanding thing she had to do, knowing her long history with each other but it was way past the time to allow her to have the control on unsuspecting souls. Now, she will remain where she is until she withers and dies.

Meanwhile, Angel would do all she could to protect Baker. But even her far and wide reach may not be enough.

Milan – 12:30 p.m.

After checking into the Hilton Presiado, Tracey McPhearson unpacked his single suitcase, then opened his briefcase which held his laptop. He also looked at three other identities he would have to begin using which meant constructing three fresh faces,

Plugging it in the laptop, he connected immediately to the hotel’s satellite connection, then connected to his email.

Searching for twenty minutes, he found everything he needed on Lee Austin who almost caught him unaware. No one had ever sneaked up on him the way Austin did. That was unacceptable to Freddy. He would make certain that never happened again.

After he read through a ten-page document, he understood why this man had tried to kill him. Payback. Revenge. Cal it what you will. Because he killed his brother, Ricky.

He only killed the man’s brother and wife to speed things up. It hadn’t been personal, but this Lee Austin saw it that way. Freddy assumed he had the right to expedite things before the police arrived. But he also realized that perhaps this time he was wrong and he's rarely wrong.

Freddy, after much thought, decided not to kill him, providing after he sent him a direct warning to back off, or he would kill the remainder of his family. Through one of his many ghost emails, Freddy sent Lee Austin a message of intent.

He needed to get this Lee Austin contained.

Baker’s Office – 1:00 p.m.

As Lee Austin walked past her open office door, she looked at him, then at the clock.

“Not only does he go halfway around the world, but he’s also punctual as well.”

“I’m here, Lieutenant. Now what?”

“Mr. Austin, I think I know the real intention behind your permit to carry and your business license. So, let me make this very clear and easy for you to understand; going after Freddy is like trying to get to Mars in a Cessna. You can’t do it and survive.”

“I almost got him, Lieutenant.”

“Almost doesn’t count for anything except getting yourself killed. This is something you leave for us to handle, and the same applies for overseas authorities as well. Freddy is a trained professional killer.”

“I know all about Freddy. I know he’s been shot five times, or at least that’s the speculation. He’s human and humans make mistakes. I know he has a strong will to live, but a bullet between the eyes will kill that strength quick enough. Here, “ Lee reached inside his coat pocket and handed Baker a sheet of paper, “those names are the current ones he has been using, although by now he may have ditched them for new ones.”

She took the sheet without looking at the names and said, “At any time you leave this country to go on foreign soil that allows you to carry, I can’t stop you without good cause, but as sure as we sit here, you step out of line one time, even look at me cross-eyed, or piss up a rope, I will have you arrested, and you can believe this—I will have your permit and license revoked faster than you can say, what the hell.

“I get it, don’t get me wrong. You want revenge for what Freddy did to your brother and sister-in-law. But you can’t take the law into your own hands. If you do, that makes you no better than Freddy. You aren’t in the military any longer. You are a civilian and as such, you will follow civilian law. Let us do our job.

“So, are we on the same page, Mr. Austin?”

Lee locked eyes with her and wasn’t smiling.

“We are.”

Lee stood and walked out of her office.

Baker wasn’t smiling either.

Wagon Wheel Inn

8thand Masters – 2:46 p.m.

A call came in about a disturbance at the bar. Clauson and Banyard handled the call, or so they thought they would.

Once inside, they counted thirteen people, including the bartender. All but the bartender and a giant of a man, were at least eighty feet away from the two men and the bar which stood between them.

The bartender saw them walk in and screamed, “This guy’s been tearing my place apart! Arrest him!”

Clauson and Banyard saw the damage. Two tables with the legs snapped off, four broken chairs, and a pool table was overturned.

“Sir? Did you do all this damage yourself,” asked Banyard.

The large man looked at him, half-smiling and said, “You bet’cha I did. I gave that little bald-headed bastard a hundred-dollar bill, so I could have me a pitcher of beer and he gives me back five bucks and some change. Then I,”

“You gave me a ten-dollar bill, mister! How many times do I gotta tell you that.”

“Sir,” said Clauson, “calm down. And you,” he looked at the man well over seven-feet and close to three-fifty, “continue.”

“Well, I tell him what I gave him, and he called me a liar. That’s one thing I ain’t. That got me real mad, so I broke some stuff up. Way I see it, the rest of that hundred he kept, is paid for now.”

“Sir, I need to see some identification,” said Banyard.

“Name’s Kelly Nelson. I live in Canada, born in Ohio, but I’ve been living and working in Ottawa almost fourteen years.”

“I still need to see some ID.”

That was when Kelly became angry.

“What! You don’t believe me! My ID’s out in my truck for hell’s sake! How come I always have to be the one to take the heat! Screw this place, I’m leaving!”

Clauson and Banyard blocked his way, and Clauson was about to hit him with his taser, when Kelly grabbed Banyard and picked him up with one hand and threw him into Clauson. That was when he reached instead, for his radio. He watched as Kelly stormed out of the bar as he called for additional backup.

As Clauson and Banyard ran out onto the street, they spotted Kelly starting a dark blue Dodge Ram, but before he could pull away from the curb, Banyard fired four shots. Two in the left front tire and two in the left rear.

Kelly jumped out of his truck in an even bigger rage.

“They were damn near new tires! You guys crazy! You just cost me three hundred bucks!”

Without stopping he rushed at both of them, and both men hit him at the same time with their tasers just as two more units showed up.

Four officers raced to help as Kelly continued coming at Clauson and Banyard, not feeling the effect of the tasers, and had actually had both men dangling in the air with each hand and was about to throw them against a wall, when he felt the stinging blows from four other tasers. That was enough for him to release Clauson and Banyard, and physically knocked Kelly to his knees where he would be handcuffed.

They searched his pockets for any identification, weapons, or drugs but all they found was a five-dollar bill, some change, and a small roll of hundred-dollar bills. Thirty to be exact. Inside his truck, they did find his Canadian driver’s license, insurance, and ownership papers.

Clauson decided to go back to the bar. Banyard was assisted in helping Kelly into the backseat of the squad car. Clauson walked inside, then behind the bar and stared at the bartender.

“What is your name?”

“Jesse Stang.”

“Jesse, you, and I are going to play a quick game. It’s called give me the right answer and I won’t arrest you for theft.”

“Huh? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Remember Jesse. Right answers only count. First question. Is there a hundred-dollar bill in the register right now?”

“No.”

“If I open it up and look for myself, I won’t find one. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“If I search you, I won’t find a hundred-dollar bill on you, would I?”

“No, sir.”

“And if I said for you to hand me your tip jar next to the register and I dump everything out, I won’t find a hundred-dollar bill in there, will I?”

That was when he saw a nervous twitch flash across Jesse’s face as his eyes darted from the tip jar back to Clauson.

“No … sir.”

“Let’s have a look all the same. Bring it over here to the bar and dump out the money.”

Jesse started to reach for the jar, then stopped.

“Okay, I confess already. I hid the guy’s money in the jar. I thought he’d be too drunk to notice the difference.”

“You have one minute to call the owner of this place for me to talk to.”

Clauson turned and looked at the customers still in the bar.

“Show’s over. Go home. The Wheel’s closed for the time being.”

Jesse had the receiver stretched out across the bar. “His name is Walter.”

“Hello, Walter, this is Officer Clauson. I’m here at the Wagon Wheel which is a mess right now. You might want to call your insurance company.

“Oh, a customer got angry at your employee, Jesse Stang; accused him of being ripped off.

“He’s been detained, but Jesse is also being arrested for theft. The damage caused was indirectly due to Stang’s greed.

“No sir, I’m afraid I can’t wait for you to arrive. If I were you, Walter, I’d get here as quick as you can and have the insurance people meet you here. Anything else you might think you’ll need from us; you can come down to the stationhouse. Have a good day.”

Clauson hung up and had Jesse walk from behind the bar and handcuffed him. Then he walked behind the bar and grabbed the tip jar for evidence, and then marched Jesse outside.

The other two units were still there, and Clauson called out Merriman and Sykes and asked them to take Jesse in and put him in a holding cell. “And read him his rights on the way in.”

As the other units left, a groggy Kelly Nelson was starting to come back around.

“Man, what hit me?”

“A truck, a building, and about enough juice to light up a city block, that’s what.”

Halloween Night – 5:30 – 9:30 p.m.

Many doors had Halloween decorations attached, or on a porch, one might find Jack-O Lanterns or pumpkins carved out and sitting on a straw-stuffed pair of blue jeans and a checkered shirt body with a straw hat on top.

Doorbells would ring, and doors would open as little boys and girls dressed as princesses and queens, Batman, Spiderman, Iron Man, or Cat Woman and the like would cry out, “TRICK OR TREAT!” A few seconds later, treats would go into a Halloween bag and the kids would be off to the next house.

Ed and Stevie were but two of many who would open their doors that night. Baker was busy doing the mom-thing. She walked side-by-side another Batman, whose secret identity was Leon Hargrove.

It was his first ever costume and his very first Halloween.

In Leon’s mind, he knew this was the beginning of things he never had the chance to do before; things out in the world were waiting on him to do.

Somewhere In Columbus Ohio – 11:03 p.m.

A tall man jumped out from behind a clump of bushes from the side of Mackinaw Road.

At one time it was a hundred-mile stretch of blacktop that used to be a trail that would lead you from Columbus to Cincinnati back in the day. Almost seventy years ago, three large sinkholes ended that idea. Now, if it’s used for anything, it’s either to bring a date there to make out with or dump your trash.

In this case, Johnny “Baby Boy” Jackson, just finished making out with a chubby sixteen-year-old girl who begged and pleaded with him not to hurt her.

Johnny had snatched her from a bus station in Columbus, punched her in the mouth to shut her up until he got to Mackinaw Road.

He kept his promise not to hurt her after he raped her brutally. To Johnny, sex isn’t brutal, sex is all about feeling good, and when he gets rough; to him, that feels wonderful.

But he kept his promise not to hurt her anymore. He broke her neck.

In a notebook in his car, he wrote her name down: Natalie. 16. Number 41. The first one? Ellaine Mae Jackson. 62.

His mother.

Thursday – November 1st

The Squad Room – 8:31 a.m.

“This just came in a few minutes ago. Another young girl was found raped and murdered just south of Columbus, Ohio.

“Following his pattern, Jackson started in Phoenix, and has raped and killed in a haphazard manner.

“Two in Arizona, four in New Mexico, six in California, seven in Texas, one each in Oklahoma, Missouri, Kansas, and Nebraska. Then he hikes it to Oregon and Washington and rapes and kills five more girls.

“From there he hit Idaho and kills two more. Then in Wisconsin, Minnesota, and Illinois, another five.

“His pattern isn’t normal, but from Tennessee to Ohio, there’s the possibility he’ll make a run through the Keystone State and might come up our way. The age range of the vic’s have been 14 to 62.

“As I said before, keep an eye on the kids and if you do spot him, bring him in. Make sure backup is there.

“Speaking of backup, Clauson and Banyard had their hands full yesterday. You both did a hell of a job.

“These two men had backup that saved their lives or from severe injury. And no matter how good you think you are; when you need help, call for it. Don’t play John Wayne.

“Halloween came and went without incident which is always a good thing. Now, does anyone have any questions?”

Silence.

“Then get out there and stay safe and keep our streets safe.”

As Baker started toward her office, Satchell followed behind her.

“I know today is your day to go through all the unsol’s but do me a favor.”

“Let me guess? Cross-check all the girl’s this Jackson has killed and see if any of them are in my files that can be closed, right?”

“You read my mind. How many do you have left, anyway?”

“Five. I’d be surprised if any of ours are in his kill group. All but two or three have been identified.”

“There might be one, two, or three we might be able to close. Work on it and see what you come up with.”

Sitting behind her desk waiting for her computer to boot up, she nodded her head at Satchell, then asked, “Are you and Samantha doing all right?”

Satchell, about to turn and leave for his office, stopped short and tilted his head at Baker.

“Things are progressing nicely. Let’s say better than all right.”

Just as he made it to the center of the doorway, he stopped and snapped his fingers.

“Almost forgot. I’m going to Stanhouse for a business luncheon with Don Baters, and at two, he wants me to attend one of the school’s there with him. If anything goes down while I’m gone, call me. ASAP.”

“No problem, Satchell, and uh,” she looked at the clock (9:12) on the wall, “enjoy your lunch.”

Baker pulled up the remaining unsol’s.

Through NCIC’s system website and her police authorization code, she was able to search for and find each of the deceased victims. Four unidentified bodies.

The early rapes and murders were horrible. Heads decapitated, hands removed, vagina’s and breasts were burned. Jackson was one sick degenerate SOB.

Baker knew that when he was finally caught and sentenced, he wouldn’t last a day behind prison walls even if he was put into solitary. She felt that if he were cornered with no way out, he would probably blow his brains out. Most generally do. Surely, Jackson had to know it was only a matter of when before he was tracked down and caught.

Baker began looking closely at one particular file of Jane Doe: estimated age by bone structure: 14. Height: 5’2”. Weight: 98. A half-moon scar on the inside of her left ankle. That got her attention.

She opened the file on Denise Lassiter. Missing three years while vacationing in Oregon with her parents. She disappeared at the Dalles, alongside Klamath Falls. Jane Doe was found not too far away from a hiking trail. Her body was found. Her head and hands never recovered. But as she looked at Denise’s file she read where it stated a half-moon scar was on the inside of her left ankle had occurred while riding her bike at age seven. A spoke snapped when she lost her balance, and it gouged her ankle.

She called the Dalles Police and informed them she would fax the information she had, she believed would identify their Jane Doe.

With a lift in her spirits, Baker checked the other two remaining girls. No luck. Nothing listed with any of the states Jackson had been in, matched her files.

She switched over to overseas operatives, logged onto Interpol’s website, entered her password, and went to recent updates of unsolved crimes. Scrolling on the left, she clicked on: MURDERS. On the next page she clicked: FEMALES ONLY. Then she clicked the age group: 6-14. 4,365 listings.

This kept her busy the rest of the day right up until five that afternoon when she received a fax from the Dalles Police Department. They changed the Jane Doe’s name to Denise Lassiter. They would also prepare to ship her remains to Montie once the parents were notified.

At 5:30, she would be at the home of Charles and Marlene Lassiter, telling them their little girl would be coming home. She had wanted to avoid the gruesome details of their daughter’s death, but explaining as gently as she could saying, “An open casket wouldn’t be a good idea,” both Charles and Marlene understood what she was saying. At least their closure could finally begin.

1224 Clearfield Street – 6:12 p.m.

Checking his website email, it was empty. No one looking for a private eye’s help with a missing person or someone cheating in their marriage.

Lee shrugged and thought it was lucky for him his dad and brother left him a good deal of money. Between that and his military combat pay and back pay he received; he wouldn’t starve over the next several years.

Lee then checked his regular emails. He had eleven new messages. The third one down captured his attention.

how are kelly and melody?

Opening the email, the first thing he looked for was the sender’s address: dknytesdeadnytes@doa.dndn.

Lee knew without going any further, two things. If he tried to trace the origins of the email, it would lead to a dead end. The second thing: it came from Freddy. Lee read the email.

you are good at what you do. you would be the first to ever get that close to me without my knowing. my congratulations. let me get to the crux of this letter. your brother (and the resemblance is flawless) left behind two beautiful little girls. it would be sinful to see anything happen to the truly innocents of the world, wouldn’t you agree? i am in a forgiving mood with this message. drop your idea of trying to kill me and i will erase any notion of killing those little girls along with jack and peggy and I will do so as you watch before i slice your throat ever slowly. i offer you this only chance to save yourself and your family. do not mistake what i write you may interpret as fear. i do this out of respect for your courage. if you come after me again you will have signed their death warrant. delete this email now and i will know you are a brave fool. wait 72 hours then delete. i will know we have an understanding. make the right choice and your future and safety of your family is assured. F.

Lee sat back with a mixture of shock, anger, surprise, and grief transforming his features.

He knew that Freddy had this message encoded with some sort of parallel relay switch that would allow him to know the time and date the email would be read, then deleted.

Minimizing the screen, he went to his favorites and opened: corruptions.net.

Lee spent the next hour searching for a program to read and filter laced emails. Just when he thought he wouldn’t find one, he smiled and opened up Xmksaspot.exe. He began reading the outline of the program.

This file generates exact locations where all emails come from. We aren’t talking ISP’s, we are talking physical addresses, cities, states, even countries. We give you the capability to alter sensitive email content, and ghosted emails. This is the best hacker program developed to not only protect you, but family and close friends as well. Get the scoop on your friends, the Pentagon, NATO, Interpol—whoever, wherever, whenever. Estimated download time: 60 seconds. 24-hour free trial. Cost: $99. Your information being sensitive due to purchase, will be encrypted in twelve different languages. Payment on your credit card will appears as: ucan2Inc.

Lee clicked on payment. Ten minutes later, he found the email was sent from Milan, Italy, Hilton Presidio, Room 216. It also listed the hotel’s address, phone number, and the name of the guest in Room 216.

Tracey McPhearson.

Lee could have done the right thing at that moment. He could get on the phone, call the Italian Policia and have them storm Room 216 and have Freddy finally captured and placed behind bars.

But then what? It would be years before he would die. Several countries besides the United States would want to prosecute him, and by the time it was all over, Freddy would probably die of old age.

Lee couldn’t let that happen.

Through the program, Xmksaspot, Lee made an exact duplicate of the email and deleted the original.

He believed if that didn’t work, Freddy would be back in Montie very soon, or he would send one more message, brief and to the point.

Tomorrow, and for the next several days, Lee decided he would stay at Uncle Jack and Aunt Peggy’s house. For the next several days he would sleep lightly and be a hand reach away from a pair of Magnum Colt .44’s.

Lee also knew one other thing. If this worked, he would have one more chance at Freddy. If he missed again, his family wouldn’t get a second chance at living.

1517 Applewood Drive – 10:45 p.m.

They both started to say the same thing, then broke into laughter.

“You first.”

“I was going to say that this was the most incredible physical experience I can ever remember. And you were absolutely beautiful, John.”

“I was pretty much going to say the same thing, and you are absolutely beautiful, Sam.”

Samantha curled against Satchell’s left side and sighed.

“I guess this means we’re serious about each other.”

Satchell chuckled.

“We didn’t know it at the time, but we were serious the day we met at Don’s cookout.”

“You fought it, John. Or at least you tried to.”

“Obviously, I wasn’t supposed to fight for very long.”

“Which brings me to a point I should tell you about. The part of my past I think is only fair and right you should know.”

“What’s there to know, Sam. You told me about the divorce. You mentioned how you and your mother are estranged. Things like that happen to a lot of people every day.”

“I know, but you need to know why. Even though I’ve been a good girl over eighteen years, it was those few years way back when and then, that nearly destroyed everything I loved. And I was responsible for damn near every bit of it.”

Satchell wrapped his arm tighter around her shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter, Sam. We have right now and that’s,”

“John, it does matter. It’s important for you to know the person I became wasn’t always me.”

“I’m sorry, Sam. Go ahead. I’ll just shut up and listen.”

Samantha looked into his eyes and began her story.

“When I was eight years old, my mother married a man I learned to call, daddy. My real father died when I was four while he was selling drugs. That was all I ever knew about him. My new daddy took a liking to me. When my mother wasn’t around, he would use me. He threatened to kill my mother if I ever said anything, so, I kept my mouth shut through the tears and abuse I suffered.

“I ran away from home when I was fifteen; hit the streets and eventually got a job stripping. I became the darling of the strip. The more I put out, the more money I made. But to keep up with the streets, I had to do the upper’s to maintain. Eventually, I moved up to coke and from there I was sampling just about everything. Because of it, I nearly died from overdosing.

“That didn’t stop me from hustling tricks on the street, until I screwed up and got pregnant. And it was that quick I wanted a better life. I wanted to be a better mother than my mother was to me.

“It didn’t happen. Had a miscarriage, and I blamed it on the drugs, the sex, and my hellacious lifestyle.

“I vowed to change, and I did. I came back home. My mother was actually glad to see me. She was alone. My other daddy left her for a younger woman. Go figure. I got back into school and life rolled on.

“I met a nice young guy in school, and we fell in love. After we graduated high school, we went on to college as we both had college scholarships. We married shortly after graduation. He went into banking, and I became an administrative secretary. My past was never an issue, so I never brought it up.

“Five months later, we were overjoyed. I was pregnant. After a healthy baby girl was born, shortly after, my world collapsed. A trick from years past appeared and threatened to expose me if I didn’t give him some money. I refused.

“Before I gave him the chance to go to my husband, I went to him first, and told him everything. Talk about a complete 360. He was a Junior Vice-President at a prestigious bank. He luncheoned with the elite, he was going places, but it would all stop if my past came out.

“He filed for divorce and cut me off of everything we had built together. He refused to pay child-support claiming the child couldn’t be his, since his wife whored with half the city.

“I was at an extreme low. I left Alicia, our baby, at my mother’s and went for a drive and got blind drunk and wrecked the car. Four days after that, in a fit of rage, my mother threw me out of the house and said I wasn’t a fit mother! I came unglued and spit out all the abuse I took years ago, and she called me a liar!

“Now, my head’s on straight, my life’s direction is straight. I’m well-respected at my job, and I have a wonderful man, who, I hope will not get up and run away from me.”

Samantha wiped away the last of her tears, grabbed a tissue, and blew her nose.

“Okay, I listened. No, I’m not going to run. You lived a life where you paid your dues more times than you should have. One question though, what happened to Alicia?”

“My mother adopted her, remarried, and this time to a decent man. I can’t tell you the number of times I have tried to contact my mother over the years, and she refuses to believe my life has changed. The last several calls I’ve made; she just hangs up. They live in Columbia, South Carolina now. Alicia will be graduating high school this year, and is an honor student; but you know what? I love her and I’m happy for her. That’s all I can give now.”

“Sam, I’d say even from a distance, your genes are connected to Alicia’s, which means you have produced a beautiful child and every bit as remarkable as you.”

He kissed her lightly, then his hands caressed her back, and he began to nibble lightly behind her right ear, then up along the side of her neck.

“Mmmm … John … if you … keep that up, we’ll … never get to … sleep.”

“That’s the whole idea; to keep it up.”

As they laughed a lover’s laugh, Satchell rolled completely atop Samantha, his hands grasping her hips; her arms wrapped around the lower part of his body, their eyes locked onto one another and just as Satchell entered her, and just as her thighs pulled up and squeezed against his own, just before he would give her a deep, long, and passionate kiss; he spoke words a long time since said.

“I love you.”

Samantha knew then her life would only get better and become more complete from that one moment in time.

Friday – November 2nd

The Squad Room – 8:39 a.m.

“One final note. Since Jimmy Brewster has reopened for business last month; Stanhouse’s PD results are in. You will all be happy to know we will be eating in one of their finer restaurants. We outgunned them by six-tenths of a point!”

“I thought it was winner’s choice,” said J.W.

“Nope. The Mayor of each city decides the place. Captain Page is meeting with Mayor Marsh this morning and we should know something by the end of the day where times and dates can be posted where everyone can take advantage of a free meal.

“Excellent job, everyone. I’m proud of all of you and not just because we won a free meal. It’s the plain fact that you guys, and the other’s on different shifts know the risks you take each and every day out there to serve, protect, and defend our city and the people who live in it.

“Now, speaking about that very thing, get out there and stay safe and keep our streets safe.”

Attica State Penitentiary – 9:16 a.m.

A truck rolled through the opened gates that said, ‘Fischer’s Plumbing.’ Once they were ten miles away, the truck pulled over to the side of the road.

“All right, guys. This is it. Time to roll.”

Three men in the back had been changing from a white prison uniform to civilian clothing: long-sleeve shirts, jeans, baseball caps and tennis shoes.

“You’re okay, Mickey.”

Mickey looked at Ralph.

“I’ll be okay once we get in the car over there and are gone, but what about the other two?"

“We take’em with us until we head north, then drop’em off. They’ll be on their own after...."

Sirens could be heard in the distance, and it was enough to tell the four men they had to move faster. Two minutes later after huge stacks of brush were tossed aside, a dark blue, Chevy Impala was spitting rocks and dust behind them as Ralph floored the gas and spun off.

Mickey set up the escape plan with the help of Ralph, so Mickey had no arrest record. On the other hand, Ralph had killed one too many men in his life and was looking at over a thousand years. Ralph knew that would never be served.

Simple plan: plumbing issue. Call in a service the prison does business with. Take a few inmates to transport materials from the truck and assist with setting things in place. No plumbing issue. Take and overpower three guards, bind, and gag them tight. Slip into the truck underneath a bunch of plumbing material and be gone. All told: seven minutes. Three minutes under schedule.

Mickey sat in the front with Ralph. In the back sat Brian Adams, barely twenty, in for a double murder. Life. No parole. The other, a black man, Bobby “Butch” Anders, in for multiple assaults. The last one resulted in beating his wife and her lover to death with his bare hands. Another lifer with no parole.

Ralph drove as quickly as he could without drawing too much attention up Highway 98. The object was to get to the Interstate before roadblocks were posted in the first twenty miles and that was crucial. Get past that first twenty, and their chances for escape went from one percent to ninety.

They did it. Hitting Interstate 90, they headed west toward Buffalo. Ralph and Mickey were headed to Canada. They had a place waiting for them to live, with people and money waiting on them.

Just before they hit the city limits of Buffalo, they pulled into a truck-stop in Depoe. Once they gassed up, Ralph told B rad and Butch they were on their own from that point.

Each man wished the other good luck and five minutes later, Brad and Butch had decisions to make. They each had a hundred dollars in their pocket and a destination to get to as well. They both agreed to stay together until Brad got to where he wanted to be which was close to New Philadelphia, about eighty miles straight south of Cleveland.

As for Butch, he had further to travel. Home for him was between Unionville and Deacon, outside Murfreesboro, Tennessee.

Though uncuffed, like the movie ‘The Defiant Ones,’ they became the modern-day Tony Curtis and Sidney Poitier, except this wasn’t a movie.

Their first move was to hot-wire a car, get into the city, and lay low for a day or two. As they were working on transportation, Ralph and Mickey’s journey was almost finished. Just as they were about to leave the city before crossing into Canada, Ralph looked over his driver’s license and was satisfied. It looked as real as it could get.

They were almost out of Ogdensburg before the police stopped them. After a standard procedure verifying the driver was who his driver’s license said he was, things were going great at that point. It was when they checked Richard Harrington’s background (aka: Mickey), they found that Richard had been deceased over three years.

Backup support was called in, and the police had asked both men to step out of the car. Ralph knew he had to do something, so he stepped on the gas, but had forgotten he had shut off the engine as requested by the police.

Seeing another police car approaching, Ralph swung the door open hard, knocking one policeman back and then he jumped out. Ralph pulled out a gun and shot one officer, fired at the other one and started running toward the Border. Four miles away.

Mickey was too scared to move but Ralph’s feet were blazing a trail. On the run, Ralph turned and fired two more shots.

Three miles to go.

He kept running. Breath labored. He looked back. Two miles left.

A bullet hit him in the lower left leg and Ralph tumbled after he hit the asphalt, but he pulled himself up, his hand still clutching the gun and fired back at an oncoming police car.

He turned, struggling to get across the Border, when less than a quarter mile away, he could see the woman he loved, standing under a streetlamp all aglow waving at him when another bullet caught him between the shoulder blades. That pitched him forward where he fell, his body sprawled on both U.S. and Canadian soil.

Brad and Butch had no idea what had happened and wouldn’t until later that night. For the time being, they found a car they hot-wired that got them into Buffalo and from there they found a cheap hotel for the night. It was across the street from a Greyhound bus station.

Both men bought a ticket to their destination and at 4:30 in the morning their journey would begin.

And it would take one of them right through Montie.

Oak Hills Strip Mall

Ray’s Barber Shop – 12:39 p.m.

Andrew Davis and Ryan Clinton were parked in the mall between Ray’s Barber Shop and Arby’s. Both men were having an Arby’s classic roast beef with curly fries and a cold drink.

“Slow day, Ryan.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No, just saying.”

“We could stand twenty years of slow if you ask me. I want to retire stress-free.”

“Ditto, and....”

A red Dodge Charger ran by them on Town Point Road faster than the posted speed limit by a good thirty miles.

“I knew it was too good to be true,” griped Ryan.

Sandwiches and the drinks forgotten, siren on, the engine racing, they squealed out of the strip mall and in six minutes had the Charger pulled over.

Things weren’t going so well for sixteen-year-old, Chad Nesbit. Today is his birthday. The Charger was a present from his parents. Chad is also the proud owner of his very first $150 speeding ticket.

Brewster Gun Club – 3:46 p.m.

Jimmy had just finished replacing all the used targets, then he swept up the spent cartridge casings which he put into a large container that once a year he sold to a metal recycling plant in Breckenridge. It was never much but two-hundred dollars is still two-hundred dollars.

In forty-five minutes, he would close for the day, then come back and do it all over again tomorrow like clockwork. But there weren’t any more late-night hours. Just like there wouldn’t be anyone at home any longer. To Jimmy, the house was nothing more than a vacant lot with stuff in it.

He had asked himself why dozens of times, he never saw what was coming and why Lydia killed herself. His only answer was that he was a despondent husband caught up in a foggy cloud that shrouded him every day leaving him blind to truths he couldn’t manage. He was hurt and ashamed for not stepping up and being a real husband and a far better father than what he was.

His turning away from realities that surrounded him that seemed to smother him have left him with an even bigger price to pay.

Blake is in a catatonic state of shock. Psychologists and psychiatrists cannot say when he may, if ever, come back around. And even if he does; there would be no guarantees he would have his full mental capacity restored.

After all that had happened, Jimmy vowed he would do all he could for Blake. To spend more time with him, to give him the love in truth he was too afraid to give in the beginning. He would be a better father, and a better friend.

When closing time came, he was on his way to Palymara’s Unihorn Institute. It was a place not only for those who are mentally unstable, but for those who are physically challenged where they can learn (and possibly return) how to adapt in society.

For Jimmy, every day he spent with Blake was physically and emotionally challenging, but it was a challenge he vowed to overcome to have his son back home with him one day.

Another Weekend in Montie

Friday night found the Montie gym filled to the rafters as the Montie Pythoners took on Brimford.

It would be a good game where Stevie would get to play the final six minutes and scoring twelve points. Six inside the paint and two three-point shots.

But from the very beginning of the game to the final second when the buzzer signaled the game over, it was never close. The cheers, screams and yells seemed to echo out onto the parking lot. Pythoners: 70. Brimford: 51.

As was tradition, the team would go to Albertini’s for pizza and then go home. But first, Stevie went to his mom and hugged her, then gave high five’ to Ed, and of course, Leon.

“When can I go and have pizza with you and the rest of the team?”

“Leon, this is just for the team, but tomorrow, if mom says it’s all right, you can go with Ellie and me to Rastabella’s for lunch. We can have pizza there.”

Leon looked up at Baker with sad, yet hopeful eyes and his lower lip puffed out.

Baker burst out laughing.

“You win, Leon. How could I say no to a look like that. You can go with Stevie tomorrow.”

Leon’s expression vanished into a gleeful smile and hugged her, then turned and looked at Stevie, smiling, and wagged his right index finger left and right.

“You drive careful, brother. You hear me?”

“I hear you, brother.”

And just like that, Stevie started walking toward the locker room but not before Ellie stopped him long enough for a hug and kiss with a quick, “I’ll see you tomorrow at noon,” and she was off.

The gym emptied quickly, and two police cars outside were directing traffic so everyone could get home safely.

And the night moved on.

At 4:30 in the morning in Buffalo, two tickets bought for a bus ride weren’t going to be used.

Both Brian Adams and Butch Sanders knew getting on the bus was no longer an option. They watched from their room as police cars were patrolling the bus station every five minutes, and two police cars were parked on the street. They found out what happened to Ralph and Mickey when they were looking at the 11 o’clock news.

“Butch, we need to get out of here and away from the bus station. We just walk south until we spot another car we can jack, or just take one in use at a red light or something. But sitting here isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

“Den what you waitin’ on? Get yo’ shoes on and let’s get the fuck outta here.”

As dark as it was outside, the streetlamps lit the sidewalks and streets too brightly for either man’s taste. And it was cold. They would need warmer clothes and quickly. As they made their way around the backside of the hotel, they spotted an all-night laundromat. Brad motioned Butch to follow him and they went inside. There was only one person there and he was asleep.

Brad check all the dryers until he found two with clothes in them. One had dark clothes, of which two were woolen shirts. Both, extra-large. Which was good for Butch. Brad made do the best he could. They left the laundromat and continued moving further away from the hotel and bus station. After a few minutes of brisk walking, Butch held up his hand to halt Brad.

“Over there? See him? That’s our ride. Let’s move.”

Four cars down, a middle-aged man was unlocking his Pontiac Firebird when Brad and Butch jumped him from behind.

Grabbing the keys Butch threw them to Brad saying, “Get dat trunk open.”

Brad opened the trunk as Butch was struggling with his target, then whispered in his ear, “This ain’t gonna hurt but a second,” then he snapped the man’s neck. Butch searched him, found his wallet, and put it in his pocket and lifted the dead man and carried him to the rear of the car and dropped him in the trunk and slammed the trunk shut.

“We need to be gettin’ outta here. You know how to drive one of these things?”

Brad grinned. “Piece of cake, baby.”

Two minutes later they were on Interstate 90 that would take them south which would connect them to I-80 West.

Things were looking good. In the wallet was three-hundred dollars. He took out the money and gave half to Brad, then threw the wallet out the window.

When Montie was waking up to another crisp Saturday, where the temp’s would topo out at sixty by four, you could still smell the sweet success of fall in the air.

The leaves were still falling in their rainbow array in many yards and the resplendent colors seemed dazzling when sunlight would cross over each yard.

Inside many homes, the sound of bacon or sausage were sizzling in a frying pan giving off that aroma that would beckon you to breakfast in sheer anticipation, along with fried eggs and home-fries. Add a cup of steaming coffee, hot tea, or cocoa, and it makes the rest of the day worth tackling.

That day would find several youngsters going door-to-door with a rake and a couple of plastic bags trying to make a few dollars raking leaves. Some adults would say no preferring to do it themselves by mowing, then mulching the leaves at the same time. Others readily said yes.

Some people wouldn’t be out of bed until well after noon.

Johnathan and Dianne were taking advantage of Johnathan’s last few days before he returned to work on Monday.

Patrick and J.W. were both asleep after a long satisfying night of what each considered to be the hottest and most erotically intense sexual experience they ever had. If you were to peek in on them, you would see two softly smiling faces caught up in pleasant dreams.

Andre and his wife, Vanessa, and their daughter, Jenny, on the other hand, were busy packing to go to Buffalo to see The Muppets, live. They knew it would be an experience Jenny would never forget. After all, according to Jenny, “Miss Piggy, rocks!”

Then there was Satchell.

A man who thought his heart would never beat new life into the frame surrounding it. A man who saw his life lived only for his job and his past memories. Now, with Samantha, new memories were in the making.

Everything they did, everything they touched became something new and special, no matter how large or small the moment was. It would be placed in the “remember box,” as Samantha put it.

But fall seems to do this to many people in Montie. Almost as if it were magical. When leaves fall to the ground and begin to bunch together; inside many homes, families get closer, become more loving, and gain more understanding from each other.

Love is a peculiar invention that will sway the hardest of hearts and will render its enemies useless. In some ways, Montie is that kind of peculiar invention.

But there are two people who didn’t plan so well, but for the time being, what luck they were holding onto hadn’t yet disappeared.

The Firebird that Brad and Butch stole, ran out of gas about four miles before they reached the town of Stanhouse. Abandoning the car, they started to push off into the dense growth of underbrush and trees where they couldn’t be seen if you were driving by, or so they hoped.

Walking another mile, they spotted a run-down motel, the Addison, which sat on the outskirts of Stanhouse. Then went inside and rented a room. It was cheap. and the desk clerk didn’t ask any questions. Now they could get warm and plan their next move.

“I say we hang out a night or two, den see what happens.”

“Then what, Butch? We can’t stay here that long. We don’t have much money left, and we have to eat, too.”

“Maybe Sunday night we take out the clerk, take what cash is in da register, take his car and book.”

“We can’t be killing ever motherfucker that gets in our way, dude. I say we just knock him out, tie him up, take his wheels and go.”

“Shit, no! What if he gets loose too fast. He’d have the cops on our ass before we get ten miles, and you know damn well there’ll be roadblocks everywhere.

“We do him, then go.”

When Bobby “Butch” Anders eyes glazed over, that was always a sign he was ready to hurt someone, for good.

Brad stopped arguing with him, but he also didn’t turn his back on Butch. He had a feeling he would have to take Butch down somehow. He was a live wire Brad would have to pull the plug on.

But throughout the day there was one special moment for one little boy. A moment he hoped would multiply many times more.

Rastabella’s had an “All You Could Eat” pizza special for $9.99, and Leon was tackling all the different slices available. He was with his new brother and his girlfriend, but it was that feeling of being wanted and accepted that made it a special moment for him.

At that time, Leon was oblivious of all the events that were shaping up not far from where he was just as Stevie and Ellie were. After all, it’s just another quiet weekend in Montie. And Montie slipped into Sunday as easily as slipping into a pair of slippers.

Sunday was filled with spiritual uplifting and guidance, prayer, and that always constant reminder Reverend Johnstone leaves with his parishioners, “The entire world has a place in heaven. And when my time comes, and yours, and yours (he pointed randomly at the congregation), I will be there to welcome each of you to a far more uplifting and enriching plan of love for you, and you—for all of you.”

As with most Sunday’s, especially in the fall, houses were filled with families. Perhaps a time was set aside to read a passage of scripture, or family time playing board games, or watching a movie, or just various conversations.

Of course, there would be some surfing on the Internet. At least one person was trying to keep his eye on Freddy’s movement.

The next morning, Lee would know he would only have one last chance at Freddy. If he missed, he, along with four innocent people would be dead.