Vengeance In Blood (Book 1), page 12
part #1 of Vengeance In Blood Series
“Wait, they still could’ve just spotted the car coming off the highway and followed it up,” Harry offered.
“Then why wait an hour? They knew the second car was coming and waited,” Kenneth said, closing his notebook. He snatched the passenger door open, threw the notebook in the seat, then grabbed his bag, tossed it in, then slammed the door. Grabbing his tie, Kenneth put it on, followed by his jacket.
“What are you doing now?” Harry asked.
“Going to catch the fuckers,” Kenneth growled.
“You know where they are?” Harry asked, stunned.
“No, but I know where pictures of them are,” Kenneth said, walking around his SUV. “Those kids were preps, and they aren’t from around here. The clothes of the attackers prove they weren’t. There is only one place I can think of they crossed paths,” Kenneth said, climbing in his SUV.
“Agent Karl, drive my rig back to the office!” Harry yelled, throwing his keys to the startled agent. He jumped in Kenneth’s SUV as he turned the engine over and stomped on the gas. “Kenneth, the local boys are going to be mad we didn’t give them a preliminary report,” Harry said, grabbing the dash and fighting to put on his seat belt as Kenneth shot down the narrow dirt road. The large tires threw up a cloud of dust as the back of the SUV swerved over the dirt.
“They can wait,” Kenneth snapped as they hit the paved road. Harry snapped his seat belt closed, saying a silent thank you in prayer. Flooring the gas, Kenneth held on as the mammoth SUV shot down the road. Seeing a car poking along under the speed limit, Harry grabbed the “oh shit” handle, bracing for impact as Kenneth shot toward the rear of the vehicle.
“It’s not going to move!” Harry yelled as Kenneth weaved into the oncoming lane, forcing a car off the road, then darted back to his lane.
Kenneth rolled down his window. “Fuck face!” he screamed, holding out a one-finger salute. Breaking out in a cold sweat, Harry reached over, turning on the lights and siren. Kenneth rolled his window up and glanced at Harry. “I knew that,” he mumbled. “Harry, call your boys, and get that cloth analyzed fast—like in the next few hours—and we have a chance of getting them,” Kenneth said, blowing through a red light, never checking if cars stopped.
“It won’t do us any good if you get us killed,” Harry said, pulling out his phone and fighting to keep his eyes open. He wanted to close them until they stopped. “Director, it’s Agent Bentley. We have a viable lead on identification. I need you to do whatever you do and get a piece of cloth recovered at the scene analyzed like right fucking now!” Harry ended in a screech as Kenneth flew around a semi that was turning.
“Sorry about that, sir, but my ass hit my throat,” Harry apologized for the scream. “Yes sir, Detective Terrell verifies the attackers are different but just as strong as the original target.” Harry listened and noticed another intersection coming up and closed his eyes. “Yes sir, Kenneth is on the way to collect evidence he believes will give us visual evidence—” Harry paused as the director interrupted, feeling the SUV yawing wildly as Kenneth weaved in traffic. “Yes sir, pictures,” Harry said, opening his eyes, seeing a wall of vehicles in front of them. “Fuck me!” he screamed, dropping the phone, throwing out his arms for impact.
Kenneth ignored him and shot over to the oncoming lane, weaving between two trucks, then hit the turning lane speeding by the stalled traffic beside them. Cars in the turning lane pulled out of the way of the barreling SUV with the flashing lights and siren. Panting like he gave birth, Harry reached down, looking for the cellphone. Finding it, he closed his eyes again.
“Sorry, you still there, sir?” he asked and listened. “Yes sir, Detective Terrell is driving us to where he believes the evidence is at,” Harry answered, keeping his eyes shut tight. Hearing the window getting rolled down, Harry braced for impact but kept his eyes closed as he listened to the director.
“Move your fucking ass, you old bitch, before I beat you to death with your fucking walker!” Harry heard Kenneth scream out his window.
“Yes sir, that was Detective Terrell requesting a citizen to vacate the roadway so we could pass,” Harry said, fighting to keep from panting. “Yes sir, like I told you, he is the best I have ever seen, but his driving leaves a lot to be desired, sir.”
“I dare you, motherfucker!” Kenneth screamed out the window.
“I don’t know, sir; my eyes are closed and will remain that way till we stop or crash,” Harry said. “Yes sir. If I survive this, I will notify you immediately,” Harry said, hanging up and dropped his phone on the floor, bracing his arm for an impact he wouldn’t see.
Kenneth suddenly yanked the wheel, cutting right, and Harry felt them go airborne. “AHHHHHH!” he screamed, feeling the SUV fly for a long time then crash down to the pavement. On landing, Kenneth stomped the brakes as Harry’s seatbelt tried to cut him in half and strangle him.
Feeling the SUV stop, Harry opened his eyes, looking over at Kenneth undoing his seatbelt. “Bring your badge so I don’t shoot someone,” Kenneth said, getting out.
With trembling hands, Harry undid his seatbelt and climbed out soaked in sweat and noticed they were in a large parking lot of a liquor store. He ran over and grabbed Kenneth’s arm, spinning him around. “You need to calm the fuck down,” Harry snapped, looking around at the staring crowd.
“Harry,” Kenneth hissed, stepping closer. “I’m going to tell you something that you will take to your grave. When I start on a crime scene, I can see it happening. Not like working it out, I fucking see it happening in my mind. My heart wasn’t in the other group, but this one…” he paused and looked away for a second. “One of the girls they ripped open and ate parts of her while she was alive, watching them. She was just a young college kid like—” Kenneth suddenly stopped and stepped back.
“Harry, they will give me the surveillance footage, or I’m going to take it,” Kenneth informed him and spun around, storming for the doors. Breaking into a run, Harry caught up with him as Kenneth threw the door open.
They walked inside to see a line at the counter. “Step back,” Kenneth said, moving toward it. “Where’s your manger?” Kenneth demanded from the clerk.
The clerk was a skinny young man with a deer-in-the-headlights look. “I-I’ll call him, Officer,” he stuttered, picking up a phone. “He’s coming, sir,” he said, hanging up the phone.
“Can I help you?” they heard behind them.
Kenneth spun around. “I’m Detective Kenneth Terrell on assignment to the FBI. I need all surveillance footage from this moment going back seven days,” Kenneth demanded.
“Sure thing, slick,” the manager said with a smile. “Show me a court order first.”
“Let me make something clear, fat bald man,” Kenneth said, stepping closer, and Harry dropped his head. “Nine college kids were killed last night, and they came here twice over two days. If I don’t get what I ask for in the next ten minutes, I’m arresting you as an accessory. You will get off but not before I put you in a cell with the biggest dick bull dike I can find in custody. Your ass will look like the Lincoln Tunnel by the time he’s done,” Kenneth threatened. “Or you can get me the footage, and I release how cooperative you were in the apprehension of some sick motherfuckers.”
Visibly shaken from the imagined threat, the man nodded rapidly. “This way, Officer,” he said, turning around and running to the back.
Kenneth followed with a tense stride, and Harry followed. “If I can get him out of here without killing someone, he’s taking a few days off,” Harry mumbled. They followed the man to an office as he was removing a disk from a recorder. Then, the manager pulled open his desk and grabbed seven more disks.
“Harry,” Kenneth said, relaxing when the disk hit his hand. “Give the man a receipt.”
“I don’t need one, officer,” the man stuttered.
Reaching in his coat, Kenneth pulled out one of his cards and handed it over. “You need something, you let me know.”
Stunned, the man looked at the card. “Can you get the state to give my license back?” he asked.
“Why was it taken?” Kenneth asked, watching the man’s face carefully.
“They said I didn’t report the proper sales tax on the liquor, but I had two accountants confirm I did. They didn’t care and took my license. I have a court date in six months, but by then, I’ll be out of business.”
Kenneth spun around. “Your license will be here in two days,” he said, walking out.
The manager looked at Harry. “He can do that?”
“If he can’t, he knows someone who can or knows dirt on someone that can make them,” Harry said, walking out then broke into a trot, catching up with Kenneth, who looked relieved.
“Let me have your phone, Harry,” Kenneth said, holding out the keys. Harry gladly traded his phone for the keys. “You drive,” Kenneth said, climbing into the SUV, which still had lights and siren on. When Harry climbed in, he turned them off and started the SUV. Looking over, he noticed Kenneth was going through recent calls then hit send.
“I know you’re mad at these guys, but Kenneth, you’ve seen shit far worse than that,” Harry said, pulling out.
“Harry, they enjoyed the suffering more than the killing. Usually, men like that will actually let their victim live just to let them suffer. This group didn’t. They are hiding because they love it. If your boys can’t get them, I’ll find someone to do it,” Kenneth said as the director answered the phone.
“Harry, what do you have?” he asked.
“Sir, it’s Kenneth,” Kenneth said. “We have the footage. I need you to get the best video guys in your building as soon as physically possible. I need the analysis of that cloth done yesterday. I sent you the name of a liquor store that had its license revoked over bullshit. They gave us the footage free and clear. I need you to call someone in the state liquor bureau and threaten to kill their firstborn if they don’t give the man back his license. I want to reward those that help us on this case,” Kenneth told the director.
The director laughed. “I’ll have that done before you arrive and will start on the others.”
“That big conference room we were in. I need a big ass TV and high-grade DVD connected so I can find these sacks of shit,” Kenneth said.
“It will be waiting on you,” the director assured him.
“If Special Agent Bentley doesn’t step on the gas, do I have your permission to shoot a finger off, sir?” Kenneth asked with a straight face.
“Not his writing hand,” the director chuckled as Harry hit the lights and siren. “We’ll be here waiting,” he said, hanging up.
“You are too violent today,” Harry snapped.
“Keep on, and I tell your wife you have a Harley stashed at my house,” Kenneth warned.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Harry gasped.
Kenneth held up the stack of disks. “Harry, they’re on here,” he said. Nodding, Harry stomped on the gas.
Chapter 8
Sitting on the conference table, Kenneth was staring at a sixty-inch, high-definition TV and scanning the footage. When they had arrived, Kenneth didn’t wait or ask. He got out and went up to the sixth floor, headed right to the room, and sat down to work. Harry headed to the director’s office. With his eyes glued to the TV, watching for the kids, Kenneth pulled out his cellphone and called home.
“Damn, that’s the first time I’ve ever called my home.” He smiled, watching the TV and hearing the phone ring until the answering machine picked up. Hanging up, he paused the video and searched through contacts, sighing when he saw Holly’s number. Tapping the screen, he hit play and continued to watch.
On the third ring, Besseta answered. “Hello, Kenneth.”
“Hey, just called the house, and you weren’t there,” he said, pausing the video. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Oh, I’m fine, and I registered for class, and my God at the cost of books,” she cried out.
Kenneth smiled. “Yes, the prices are insane.”
“Oh, I hope you don’t mind. I stopped by my place and got some more of my stuff.”
“No, that’s fine. In fact, when we get a chance, we can go get the rest of your stuff if you want?”
“Really?” she squealed, relieved he asked and that she didn’t have to.
“Yes, as soon as I can get some time off,” he said, smiling. “You aren’t talking on the phone and driving, are you?” he asked, dropping his smile.
“No, I’m talking and riding. I’m in the back of a taxi.”
“Why—” he started. “Never mind. Are you headed to the house?”
“Yes, will you be home soon?”
“No, I’m going to be late.”
“Hey, do you know anything about a police SUV tearing down Santa Ana? It was on the radio, and I just wanted to ask since I know a cop now,” she asked.
Kenneth chuckled. “Nope, don’t know a thing,” he lied.
“I’ll keep the food warm.”
“Thank you, and make sure the dogs play some,” he said. “See you when I get home,” he said, hanging up. “Maybe I should’ve said something else,” he said, staring at the phone. Giving up, he put his phone up and hit play, watching the screen like a man dying of thirst looking at water.
The door opened behind him, but Kenneth never turned around as the director and Harry walked in, followed by more agents. “Find anything?” Harry asked, and Kenneth shook his head. Harry walked past the TV to a desk in the corner and opened the bottom drawer. “Sorry, sir,” Harry said, pulling out a bottle of brandy and a glass.
“Quite alright,” the director said, watching Harry pour a glassful.
“There!” Kenneth shouted, jumping off the table, pointing at the lower part of the screen. Everyone moved over, seeing the screen was divided into three rows with three different views for a total of nine cameras. They followed his finger to see him pointing at the bottom middle, showing the main door. A tall man wearing an old army jacket was frozen on the screen. “That is Mr. Six Feet Two Inches,” Kenneth said with malice. He hit the slow motion button, watching the man move into the store.
“You sure that’s him?” the director asked, visibly excited.
“Positive,” Kenneth said, watching the screen for the other one. “There are the kids,” he said, pointing at the top corner screen, which was playing in slow motion. A small SUV pulled in, and four kids moved toward the building.
“What the fuck?” Kenneth mumbled and paused the video. Looking at the front of the store at a man almost to the door, he said, “Where the fuck did he come from?” Kenneth rewound and set it to slow motion forward. The man just appeared in front of the door behind the kids. “That’s Mr. Five Feet Ten, but where in the hell did he come from?” Kenneth mumbled, watching it again.
“That’s good, Detective Terrell,” the director said, stepping forward. He pushed stop and ejected the disk. Kenneth was about to ask questions then noticed over a dozen people behind him. On the back side of the room was a rolling cart with a nice computer set up. A man wheeled it over, and the director handed him the disk.
“Hey,” Kenneth said, getting up and moving to the young man pushing the computer over. “Who are you?” he asked.
“Computer personnel,” he said, taking the disk and putting it in.
“You better have better credentials than that.” Kenneth stopped beside him. The man looked at the director and received a nod.
The young man turned to look at Kenneth. “Agent Brian Reston with the NSA,” he said.
“You better be good,” Kenneth said, looking at the director. “Take care of that license?” he asked.
“It’s already been delivered,” the director told him. “Turns out a member of the liquor board’s family member applied for a license but couldn’t get one, so the board took one away so the family member could get one. It was hand-delivered,” he said, smiling.
“Report on the cloth?” Kenneth asked.
“Should be here any minute,” the director said. “How come we couldn’t move this fast on the others?”
“They didn’t leave anything I could connect with,” Kenneth said, walking away. “These guys did.”
“I took the liberty to call the chief of Santa Ana and informed him why one of our trucks was playing pole position on his streets. He said he understood and sent his thanks,” the director said, watching the computer as Brian hit buttons.
“I’m connected to our mainframe,” Brian called.
Seeing Harry draining a glass, Kenneth walked over. “Connected to what?” he asked.
“NSA’s video resolution team in Maryland,” Harry said, pouring another.
“Who the hell are these people?” Kenneth asked.
“You don’t want to know,” Harry said and drained the glass then poured another.
“You need to slow down,” Kenneth warned.
“No, I don’t,” Harry said, taking a sip. “I just received a letter of commendation from the president.”
“Hey, that’s great,” Kenneth said, patting his back.
“For what you did today,” Harry said, looking at the people in the room. “I’m trying not to think about what would’ve happened if we hadn’t come through.”
“Don’t,” Kenneth said. “If I’m not mistaken, the man beside the director is CIA. I’ve seen his picture.”
“He’s number two at spook central,” Harry nodded.
“The man behind the guy on the computer looks like undersecretary of the Navy Donald Hughland,” Kenneth said.
Harry turned around, facing the windows. “Kenneth, drop the roll call. You don’t want to know.”
The door opened, and a man carried a stack of papers over to the director. Taking the papers, the director waved the man out the door. “Detective Terrell, the report you wanted.” Kenneth walked over, took the stack, and started reading.
“Have the first 3-D representation,” Brian called out from the computer as a printer came to life. He pulled the photo off and passed it to the director. Looking up, Kenneth was impressed with the photo of Mr. Six Feet Two Inches then went back to reading, walking back to Harry.
