An Apple for Zoë ~ The Forsaken (25 page)

"Suicide? You've got to be kidding? If that's a suicide then I'm Mother-Fucking-Theresa," joked Jessalee.
 

"Exactly, although you gotta admit that is similar to Kritzler's death. I mean with the exception of barbed wire for handcuffs" Shelton joined in.
 

"And the lipstick covered asshole," smirked Jessalee. Everyone but Paige laughed. It was the first time there had been any levity in the room all day.

Sorry director, I didn't mean to interrupt, please continue," said Jessalee.
 

 
"The Hollywood police closed the file, but the LA bureau weren't satisfied especially since there wasn't any note and the only other people in the house with him at the time of the event were still living there. So I was ordered by my director to do a follow-up interview.
 

I drove alone up into the oldest part of the Hollywood Hills to where this massive stone manor sits looming over the city. I was met at the gate by this stunningly beautiful girl who, as, it turned out I later learned was Tarista. She led me up a marble staircase outside the mansion to a veranda. That's where I met Devonia. She spoke with voice of an angel and invited me inside. She escorted me through a series of oaken hallways that were covered in frescos and paintings from another time.
 

I followed her into a large hall where a massive fireplace lay against the wall in the center of the room. Above the fireplace was the painting of the Vatican, in flames. I couldn't stop staring at it. Devonia asked me,
'You like what you see?'
but I couldn't answer. She walked up behind me and put one hand on my shoulder and took my other hand in hers as she pointed to the center of the painting.
'There, do you see it?'
I didn't know what she was talking about and said 'no' as if I were lost in a trance. She interlaced her fingers with mine and pointed them together.
'Right there, do you see it now?'
To my horror I saw what she was pointing at."

The group sat breathless listening to Paige tell the story.

"What was it?" asked Stasya.

Paige remained silent a moment. She looked up at everyone and remembered the moment as if it were yesterday. "I felt her velvet cheek pressing next to mine as she spoke softly.
'It's your baby. The one you killed, don't you see it there in the fire burning along with you?'
she said as she kissed my cheek and backed away from me with her arms outstretched. I walked to the hearth of the fireplace and there she had laid out for me five branding irons."
 

Stasya felt the tears stinging her face as she listened. "I couldn't stop myself. I reached without hesitation and took each one and burned it into my skin until
 
I had atoned for my sin of abortion."
 

No one spoke. No words seemed to be right in view of what everyone had just learned.
 

"The next time anyone saw me, I was found half naked walking along the shore of the Santa Monica beach. It took me a year to recover. The bureau charged them with attempted murder of a federal officer, but by then the Baranova Sisters were long gone. Charles Mondurge had left them his entire fortune. They were rich beyond measure. The only way we were ever going to capture them was if they let us and
that
is why they are in a Faraday Cage," she said somberly.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

 
The Faraday Cage

The six of them all stared at different parts of the room. No one seemed to be able to look the others in the eyes, but the feeling in the room had changed from one of anxiety and mistrust to understanding and mutual dedication. They were all here for a common purpose the only way they were going to accomplish it was to trust each other and work together.

"Let's go to work," said James. The request seemed to be exactly the words everyone needed to hear. Taking the initiative, Jessalee, opened a file and pulled several photocopied reports and passed them around the table.
 

"What you're looking at everyone is the blood analysis taken from Tarista and Devonia while they were unconscious. Judging from their appearance when we booked them, we weren't taking any chances. Point one. There are four different blood specimens on them and none of it belongs to them."

"You said earlier you knew one of the specimens belonged to your sister," stated James.

"That's right," replied Jessalee.

"How did you know that? All the evidence from her crime scene was destroyed in the fire."

"I understand, but she is my sister. I swabbed myself and ran a DNA test. It matches me. It's Valerie. The other three belong to, Amanda Carlyle, Hermann Kritzler, and Julie Jackson."

Hearing Julie's name suddenly made all of it real for James. She really was dead. Now he would never have a last chance to tell her that he never stopped loving her. James swallowed and tried to put thoughts of Julie out of his mind for the moment. "But no evidence of Kirkland's blood?"

"None," said Jessalee as Shelton and Summers breathed a sigh of relief.
 

"Since we are laying all of our cards here on the table. I have to tell you guys, I don't know what's true and what I might have imagined for the last two days. But when Agent Summers and I went to Kirkland's house, we found someone had ransacked it, obviously looking for something. We found writing on the wall in blood in one room and an occult painting in his living room. It also had writing on it."

Stasya looked up from her report. "What was the painting Inspector?"

"The Witches Sabbath
by Goya," said Summers. "On the back of it there was writing in Russian, that read, 'The place where Angels will not tread' and the writing in the bedroom was also in Russian it said 'Julie Jackson burns in hell,' so I think we can safely assume that it was Tarista and Devonia who trashed Kirkland's house and murdered Julie," said Summers.

"Any idea what they could have been looking for Stasya?" asked Paige.

Stasya considered all that she had heard and shook her head. None of it seemed to make any sense.

"Anything else, Tom?" asked Shelton.

"Yes, I got a missed call on my cell phone. It came from Kirkland's house phone. It was a girl who left a message."

"What did she say?"

"She said, 'Kirkland isn't dead' and then hung up."

"Was it one of them?" asked Paige, referring to Tarista and Devonia.
 

James thought for a moment and said no. "I don't think so. To be honest, I thought it was Julie."

"Why would you think that?" asked Stasya.

"Because it sounded identical to her."

"Do you still have this recording?" asked Stasya.
 

James nodded as he clutched his cell phone tightly in his pocket, just to reassure himself he still had it.

"May I listen to it?" asked Stasya looking directly into James' eyes. "What do you fear Inspector? That it was her last phone call before she was brutally murdered?"

"That's a bit excessive don't you think?" Summers said, showing her irritation towards Stasya's lack of consideration for James' feelings.

"Forgive me if I am too blunt, Agent Summers, but no one can help the Inspector understand what truly happened to Julie except for me. Only I know the true voice of Tarista or Devonia."

Paige looked up directly at Stasya. "That's not true. I will never forget the sound of their voices, ever."

Shelton reached over and patted James on the shoulder. "Come on Tommy, we gotta know for sure. If those two are the ones who killed Julie, then at least we have them in custody already. You won't have to wonder anymore."

James returned her affection with his own pat on her shoulder and retrieved the phone from his pocket.
 

Stasya stood up and crossed to him. "Stand up Inspector and give me your hands a moment." James did as she requested and rose from his chair.
 

Slowly he placed his hands inside Stasya's hands. She smiled at him and told him it would be okay. She closed her eyes and nodded several times. The others watched her with James quietly from their seats.

"Very good, now please let me hear the message," she said as James handed her the phone.

His hands shook, as he suddenly felt nervous. "You have to press one and it will automatically go to my voicemail."

"It's okay Inspector James, I have a cell phone myself," she said smiling as she pressed the number 1 and listened to the dial. Pressing the phone to her ear, Stasya could hear the sound of the voice on the other end. Her eyes squinted as she replayed the message again. She then became very quiet as she pressed the stop button and handed James back the phone.

"The girl on the phone, her name is Zoë. She's your daughter."

END OF BOOK ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Preview From Book II

All Of Them Witches

Summers pressed her cell phone tightly against her ear trying to hear over the gunfire that came from the device's speaker. She crouched in a corner of the mausoleum hiding as James had instructed her to do.

"They're coming Summers! You've got to kill her before she kills you!" pleaded the voice on the other end of the phone. "I was wrong! You can't trust any of them...Oh my god...No! NO!" the voice screamed and then was abruptly silenced. Summers gripped the phone and listened as closely as she could. For a moment she thought the call had been dropped, but then she began to hear crackling and whispers on the other end until a voice returned to the phone. Summers began to panic as she heard the familiar snicker of laughter followed by the loud shrieking scream that sounded like a wild animal.

"I'm gunna git yew!"

END OF PREVIEW

*

Thomas Amo is the author of the 1920's adventure romance, "Silence" and the stage-play of the crazy British farce, "Bob's Your Auntie!" This former full-time theatrical producer and playwright has written over 20 comedies and farces for the live theatre. Outside acting, directing and producing, his first love has always been writing.
An Apple For Zoë ~Book One ~ The Forsaken, marks his debut into horror fiction.

"I've always had a fascination on the subjects of Old Hollywood and True Crime. The best part of writing about these subjects is the interesting places you get to see when doing the research. Spending three hours in The Hollywood Forever Cemetery was an amazing experience!"

"The other thing I absolutely love about being a writer is...you can do this job, from anywhere in the world!"

Thomas Amo lives in California, with his wife, Ashton.