Chills & Thrills: Three Novel Box Set (69 page)

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Redding felt a sharp stab of anger rise through his body when he heard the police were now considering Wentworth’s case a murder. Redding had an informant at the LAPD, and the unofficial word was the suicide had been staged. Fuck. The reason he’d told Connor and Thomas to have Mark make it look like a suicide was murder cases were investigated by police he had no control over. And he’d wanted this whole thing to create sympathizers for Senator Wentworth. On top of it all, Ryan Horner was still missing. Peter did not like any of this. His stomach burned and his head pounded.

Things went from bad to worse when he received a call from his man handling the situation with Horner’s wife and kids. She’d been located in New Jersey visiting a friend but had narrowly escaped with the children. However her friend had been killed by two of his henchmen. This was not good. He shook his head, downed another scotch, then switched over to speaker phone. “What the hell happened, Jeff?”

Jeff White had worked within The Brotherhood for more than a decade. He handled the dirty work on the east coast. He was good at it. But it seemed White had lost his touch. Or his team had. It only took one moron, one peon, to turn a strong organization into a house of cards. Peter wasn’t going to let that happen.

“I’m sorry, sir. Things got out of hand.”

“I don’t understand.” Redding was trying hard to stay cool. “Things got out of hand? What does that mean, Jeff?”

“We located the wife and kids sir.”

“Yes, and you also murdered an innocent woman, Jeff!”

“She was a Jew, sir.”

Peter slammed his empty scotch glass onto the table next to him. “I don’t care if she was the Queen of the Jews! Killing her raises questions…questions bring cops. You prepared to take a fall for The Brotherhood if it comes to that?” There was silence on the other end of the line. “I asked you a question!”

“Yes, sir, for the higher good of humanity and what we stand for, I am prepared to make any sacrifice necessary.”

“Good to hear, Jeff. Now tell me, do we know if Mrs. Horner is aware of anything her husband was involved in, or if he somehow leaked information to her?”

“She changed her hair color and cut it. She also cut the hair off the little girls.”

“She knows. Any idea where she was going?”

“No. She’s in her friend’s car and we have the make on it. She’s also got the other woman’s infant with her. The police may find her first. She’s wanted for her friend’s murder and for kidnapping the baby.”

“Interesting. I want her before the police get her. And I want her found alive. No more killings at all. Do I make myself clear?”

Redding hung up the phone and then placed one more call. “Hello, love.”

“Peter?”

“Of course. I was thinking how nice it would be to see you tonight,” he said.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. The police were here yesterday before the funeral and asking questions.”

“Really? All the more reason for us to meet. See you at eight.” She would come. Redding needed a distraction and Susan Hamilton would do just fine.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Gem knew Pazzini could have been a lot harder on her and she was grateful he’d let her off easy. Now she needed to learn as much as she could about Wentworth and Craig Johnson. Because the two deaths were far too coincidental. Two powerful men with money. One young. One old. Both strongly opinionated and not in a good way. Johnson she didn’t know much about but she’d heard enough from Chad that night while hiding in his upstairs guest bedroom. Yes, she’d heard enough to convince her Wentworth was a very hateful young man. But what about Johnson? Who was he? Would the cops be able to connect the dots?

Pazzini was a smart guy. A good detective. If anyone could make the puzzle pieces fit, it would be him. But she’d see what she could do to help him out.

Gem googled Johnson’s name and pulled up a variety of articles. Some were about his wealth and rise to fame. Others were about his unpopular views about immigration, race, and women. There were even a few about his philanthropic efforts. Gem couldn’t help but laugh. “Who knew bigoted racists had philanthropies?”

After a couple hours spent reading through various materials, two articles caught Gem’s attention. One had to do with Johnson’s support of Senator Wentworth. The other covered a grant Johnson’s technology company had underwritten. Her jaw dropped when she saw who the grant had been written for; L.A. County Hospital’s Pathology Department and Dr. Jake Hamilton.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Pazzini had promised Kelly he would see what he could find out about Lupe Salazar. He had tried giving Kelly a call a few times, but got her voicemail. She was likely in surgery. He’d changed his mind about calling another cop in to be with her for the evening. If anything, the two of them needed to talk about what had happened last night. He wondered how she felt about last night. He knew one thing for sure—there was a part of him that regretted it because he’d crossed every boundary possible, but there was another part of him that had no regrets at all. He hoped he had not screwed up with her because he was very interested.

Trying to maintain focus on his job, he headed into the Women’s Shelter where he had learned Lupe Salazar had been living for the past few months. He was immediately led into an office where he met a lithe, petite woman of about fifty seated behind a desk. She stood and shook his hand. “Rosa Gonzales. How can I help you Detective?”

“I’m here about a young woman who I understand was staying here. Lupe Salazar?”

Rosa sat back. “Yes. Lupe. It was tragic what happened to her. I can’t believe she’s gone.” She shook her head. “Do you know how her baby is doing?”

“The baby is holding her own. She’s in the Neo-Natal-Intensive Care Unit at County.”

“Poor thing. Such a shame. Lupe really wanted the baby and to do right by her.”

“So, she did want the child? Tony asked.

“Oh yes. There was no doubt. She came here about four months ago. She asked me where she could go to get some care for her child and herself. I sent her over to the Women’s Health Center just three blocks from here. I know she kept regular appointments and was eating well. That kind of thing.”

“And did she have friends here? A boyfriend? Do you know anything about her family?”

“No. I don’t know anything about a family. She says she was abused at home and ran away. She was nearly seventeen. We don’t ask many questions of these girls. It’s obvious they have some real issues. As far as friends, she really kept to herself. Did a lot of reading. Was attempting to finish up her G.E.D. and get a diploma. There was no boyfriend that I was aware of, but again, the girls are semi on their own. We have an overcrowding problem and there is only so much any of our counselors and myself can do. We are all volunteers.” She ran a hand through her long, silvering hair.

“What about drugs or alcohol? Did you ever notice anything like that with? Where you may have suspected she was using or on something?” he asked.

“No way. The kid was a good girl. I can spot the users, Detective. Lupe Salazar came from a violent home, she wanted to do the right thing for herself and her baby, and so she got out and away from people who were bad to her. I don’t believe she was wrapped up in drugs or alcohol.”

Pazzini sighed. “Okay. One more thing. Did you know Naomi Williams or Desiree Jones? They were both teenage girls. African-American. Both pregnant.”

Rosa nodded. “I do remember Naomi. She came here a few times for meals. I didn’t know she was pregnant though, and I haven’t seen her for some time. I’ve never heard of the other girl before.”

“Do you know where Naomi was living?”

“I couldn’t say. It’s possible in the tenements seven blocks from here. Sometimes we get girls or women who come in from there just for a warm meal. Remember, Detective, I keep a discrete place. I know the hardships these women face so I try and watch my boundaries with them.”

“Right. Well, thank you for your time, Ms. Gonzales.”

She stood and they shook hands.

Pazzini headed out of the shelter more baffled than before. So, this Lupe Salazar was a decent kid according to Rosa Gonzales. Not a druggie at all, and Naomi Williams had been here a few times. Was this shelter the link to Dr. Hamilton’s murder?

Maybe he would get some more answers if he visited the health center Lupe had been seen at. He started to head the two blocks up when his cell phone rang. It was Simmons. “Yeah? What’s up?” he asked.

“Oh man, uh, I am so sorry but the doc…she’s gone. She’s missing, Pazzini.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

The plane screamed down the runway. Kelly glanced at the rows behind her. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but all the other passengers seemed oblivious. No one took note of her. She leaned against the window and sighed.

What the hell was she doing? Running, of course. But from who? And why? She replayed her last conversation with Jake over and over as the plane headed north. “Leave this alone, Kelly. You could get hurt.” And he’d been right. Those men had meant her harm. And was Tony involved? It didn’t make sense. She fought back her tears. And that man, Mark Pritchett. Probably not his real name, either. Something about him looked so familiar.

What did she know? There was Lupe and the drugs in her system that transferred to Baby S. There had been at least two other cases similar to Lupe’s. Then Jake was murdered after he’d warned her. She’d told Tony her theory about a new street drug. And she spent part of the afternoon running for her life. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed Tony was on the take. He was a dirty cop and so was Simmons. Their whole charade about wanting to protect her, shadow her, and all that was just to keep an eye on her and discover what she knew. It all made perfect sense.

Or did it? She remembered the night before, with Tony. The way he’d looked at her, touched her, kissed her, made love to her. Had it all been a lie? She felt the sting of tears again. Kelly quickly downed the rest of her cocktail. She didn’t know what to believe any more.

What did they think she knew? Where was she supposed to go and what was she supposed to do? Should she contact the FBI? And tell them what exactly? She leaned her head back on the seat and closed her eyes.

No matter what, she had to figure this out. And she had to figure it out quickly because there was no way in hell she was going to wind up dead. Kelly was going to get out of this thing alive, if that was at all possible.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

Only moments after he hung up with Susan, Redding decided to head out and purchase a nice gift for her—something to ensure her continued allegiance and silence.

Once he’d found the perfect diamond tennis bracelet, he had the driver stop by the liquor store and purchase a bottle of Dom. He was not going to allow all of his hard work to go up in smoke. He was going to celebrate all he had already accomplished and what was to come.

Champagne and gift in hand, Redding was on his way home to await his companion for the evening and release some of this pent up tension. His phone rang and he sighed heavily before answering. This couldn’t be good. It seemed lately every time he answered a call, it was not good news. He was right.

“You lost the doctor?! One defenseless woman against three men and you completely screw it up?” What kind of fucking idiots did he have working for him?

“There was a cop following us. We could only do so much. And Thomas is dead. He was hit by a car.”

“What?!” Redding screamed into the phone.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I am.” Redding heard the tremor in Mark’s voice. He should be afraid. Redding had clearly jumped the gun by moving this moron up in the ranks. “Where’s Connor?”

“I don’t know. We scattered and went our separate ways, you know. The cops were everywhere.”

Redding could feel the blood boiling inside of him. “Listen to me, Mark, and listen carefully. You have twenty-four hours to find Dr. Morales.”

“How?”

“That’s your problem, isn’t it?”

“What if we can’t, sir?”

“Well, Mark, as you know there are consequences for ineptitude. Bring in the doctor.”

Peter hung up the phone and looked out the window. This was unbelievable. The organization was ready for the next step. Not a step backward. He had to do some damage control where Thomas was concerned. The good news was The Brotherhood had rules about keeping one’s identity low key. If the man had followed those rules, the police would have a hard time discovering anything at all on him.

The other real problem at hand was this Dr. Morales. If he could track her down and work some of The Brotherhood magic on her, she could prove very useful. She ran a NICU unit in one of the biggest welfare hospitals in the state. Yes, she was Hispanic, but maybe that was exactly what he needed at the moment. Things were way out of hand. If he could bring in a minority, threaten her, threaten who and what she loved most, he’d have her in the palm of his hand. The key was finding the bitch, and fast. If she had any inkling what was going on, and took that information to the right person—he and everyone in The Brotherhood would be royally fucked. He could not let that happen. He had worked too hard for their ultimate goal. A white America. A white world!

It would all start with Senator Wentworth. Good old Lawrence. Peter hand-picked him long before Wentworth had any idea about The Brotherhood’s existence. He’d been following the senator’s career since their early days in college. Fraternity brothers. There were things Peter knew about Wentworth that would curl the hairs of his constituents. Wentworth was a lot like Peter in many ways. Not so much in others. The two of them firmly agreed on what the country should look like, what a new world should look like. And Wentworth had that All-American, apple-pie image going for him, which made people trust him.

Peter had it all worked out. The campaign money was rolling in from all sorts of private sources: White Power kingpins, pro-abortion liberals, feminists. Wentworth was preaching health care for everyone, but still allowing the wealthy to choose their own private physicians. Sure, presidents had tried to do it before. But Wentworth would be able to get it done and make everyone happy on all sides. Granted, the health care ruse would cost an arm and a leg, but through private funds, the deal would be signed, sealed, and delivered before anyone knew what was going on.

Health care facilities would be planted right in the middle of impoverished areas—places like Watts, Harlem, Detroit, all along the Mason-Dixon line—with their huge number of surplus people. Once the facilities were established, the plan would kick-off with free prenatal care, which would supply the women with free vitamins mass produced by Frauen Pharmacueticals, of course. In addition to being highly addictive, the vitamins, containing Pure, would also induce spontaneous abortions, causing most fetuses to die long before birth.

The beauty of it was the drug could be put into birth control pills. The same chemical reaction causing the abortions would also induce sterilization. The last piece of the puzzle Peter needed to figure out was how to get men to ingest the chemical. But this wasn’t strictly necessary, because if the surplus hordes couldn’t procreate, in eighty to a hundred years, the problem would be eliminated anyway.

The bigger problems they would encounter would likely be political. But Redding felt sure he had that figured out as well. The key would be initiating and keeping the right men involved in The Brotherhood.

A president could only be in term for eight years, but there were others The Brotherhood would line up. There would be supporters and the support would grow. Good, politically correct white Americans would begin to see the errors of their ways. Half of them hid their real feelings anyway about minorities. Redding was certain of it. The drug could be introduced as a street drug in the long run. Once out there on the streets, The Brotherhood’s plans for a new type of humanity could really take hold. The trials within these health care facilities were nice and controlled. They made it easy to see if the drug worked. On the street it would be more difficult to tell. Once the drug was working within the controlled test facilities, then a release on the undesirable populations as a whole could go into effect.

He knew he wouldn’t be alive to see his final solution realized. But he felt secure knowing the world would be a much better place without millions upon millions of wretched mongrels ruining things for the white race. Policies could be introduced forbidding non-European immigrants from entering the United States. Hell, if the peons of the world wanted to kill one another, why should the U.S. step in and try to make things better? Peter never understood this shortsighted policy. Once he and The Brotherhood were in charge of The White House, changes would take place, big changes. But first, Peter had to gain back the control slipping from him.

As the car parked in the drive and the driver opened the door, Peter stepped out and immediately felt something different in the air. Something was not quite right.

He had a visitor. Senator Wentworth was waiting for him in his den. His eyes were red rimmed and he looked very upset.

“Senator?” he said.

Wentworth stood up quickly from the chair he’d been seated in, “I know you killed my nephew, Redding!”

Peter walked over to the bar and poured himself a scotch and soda. With his back to Wentworth, he said, “I am sure you’re upset about your nephew, Lawrence. It’s such a shame, and I am terribly sorry. He was an asset to us.”

“Fuck you!” Wentworth shouted.

Peter turned. “Now, senator, that doesn’t sound very presidential of you. Go bury your nephew, put this bad business behind you, and move on with your campaign. You can probably use this suicide thing to your advantage considering it’s one of those ugly tragedies no one ever talks about.” He took a sip from his glass. 

“Chad did not kill himself, Peter. He was murdered. By you.”

Peter set his drink down on his desk and walked very close to Wentworth. His voice pitched low and threatening. “Listen to me and listen carefully. You are currently in a position to become the leader of the free world. The question you need to ask yourself is not how Chad died, but who is padding your pockets to ensure you become the next president of the United States.” He gave Wentworth a shove and pushed him back down into his chair.

The senator winced.

“I think the most respectful thing you can do for your deceased nephew and your constituents is focus on the future. Now, I have business to attend to. Is there anything else you wanted to discuss, Lawrence?”

Wentworth stood and stared at Peter. He nodded his head once and walked out of the room. Peter sighed heavily and downed his drink. The last thing he needed on top of his problems was a loose cannon politician. If he had to, he’d cut the strings on his puppet and find another way to bring his plans to fruition.