Mind Duels: Breaking Point

By Imma Argiro and Pat Argiro

Mind Duels-Breaking Point is the second installment in the suspenseful trilogy. Recommended for ages 13+.

Drip….Drop…Drip…Drop…

Gruesome findings stir outrage in Somerset, New Jersey. The killer's new tactics include playing a vicious game of cat and mouse. Chief Williams is at wits end.
Jack is forced to make a critical decision, which involves a great deal of risk and could undoubtedly change his life forever. Whereas Jackie's world has become inextricably complex, and it will take an absolute miracle to get it back on track.
…the truth awaits

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 5, 2012
• ISBN: 9781624882814

Book preview

Chapter 1

It’s perfect. Perhaps it’s too perfect. No congruency, no fences, just a vast splendor of pristine beauty, as far as the naked eye can see. It’s so alluring, it’ll draw you in like a magnet. One’s senses will continue to be dazzled while moving forward, pausing only briefly to admire each scene. It’s such a splendid paradise with various forms of plant life and cohabitants, yet so quiet and serene. The greenery is unparalleled both on the ground and far reaching into the sky. One feels total inner peace, a place that exists only in dreams, as one’s imagination reigns freely, like being absorbed in a magical fantasy. Although one can easily lose sight of himself here, one should never lose sight of the dangers. One mistake, no matter how insignificant, whether in timing, judgment, or indecisiveness could prove fatal. Fear is present here as a primitive emotion common to all species. Many eyes peer through the trees while remaining well concealed. Color is enticing, camouflaging everything nicely. Food is plentiful, and like everywhere else, survival is key. Few persons dare to conquer this part of the world, with only the strong of heart venturing this way.

Jack watched in dismay. He couldn’t begin to understand, or perhaps just didn’t want to understand. Disgustingly, he looked on. A boa constrictor was flexing its muscles, no pun intended; its prey was at God’s mercy. In the jungle survival is key, and the weak and the frail non-existent. The victim lay lame on the lush grass, slowly being devoured, and becoming part of the food chain. Its existence permanently erased, with not even a trace to be found, and with no one to grieve or give a second thought to this occurrence. After all, there are no rules in the jungle, except one, and only one, survival.

The TV was flicked off, and Jack took another sip of his coffee. Many things had shaped his life, but reality had taken on a whole new meaning. Some would call it destiny; others would call it bitter reality. No matter which position one took, the fact remained Jack wasn’t the least bit happy. His life had shattered to pieces, much like a glass crashing down on a hard surface. Ironically, he didn’t have a clue as how to get things back on track. Jackie had seemed like the key ingredient, but what a sad joke that turned out to be. Not only did she have the audacity to reject him, apparently she was involved in some pretty serious shit. Some wife, she’d make, thought Jack. This echoed in his mind relentlessly, causing Jack’s temples to throb.

Tara, I think I’m going to take a quick shower, Jack watched as she flew on top of the window sill.

Quik, quik, Tara repeated joyfully.

Jack had nearly reached the top of the staircase when the phone rang. He sighed and hesitated momentarily, before grudgingly heading back downstairs. He scanned the screen display; it was a private number. Jack stood indecisive, wondering whether or not to answer the call, but after the fifth ring his answering machine came on.

Jack it’s me. Are you there?

Jack froze. He simply couldn’t believe his ears.

"Jack, are you there? Jackie pleaded.

He picked up the receiver. Jackie, his voice was intentionally cold and distant.

Jack, I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am about our trip. I know how much you were looking forward to it…

Jack quickly cut her off, I don’t know if we have anything to talk about, he answered bluntly.

I know you are upset, but I need to see you. I’m in big trouble…

Jack’s voice flared, Come again! Am I hearing right, or do you take me for some damn fool? First you reject my engagement ring, and then you’re escorted off the plane by two CIA agents, what’s next? Quite frankly, I’m not sure I know you at all, and just for the record, I don’t know if I want anything to do with you.

His harsh words stung deeply. Jack, please don’t do this. I’m not sure I can handle…

Have you stopped to think just for one bloody minute what I must be going through? he shouted, pounding his fist hard on the kitchen table.

Her voice trembled and she was nearly in tears. Of course, I’ve been thinking of you. It’s just that at the moment things don’t look too good. I’m in deep trouble. I’ve been accused of a very serious crime; they found cocaine in my luggage, which can put me behind bars for a long time. I’m not sure how long I’ll last in here. Jackie was sobbing. Jack felt a touch of sympathy rush through him. I’m scared Jack, I don’t know who else to turn to. Jackie paused, and Jack could hear her panting. Please, for the love of God, will you at least hear me out?

Jack felt like he was between a rock and a hard place. Undoubtedly, he had loved her deeply and beneath all the hurt and confusion still did. His heart tore as memories swarmed back, although nagging doubts persisted festering like an open wound. His hand clutched the receiver. He certainly didn’t want to get drawn into something that could land him in hot water. Jack knew he had to be vigilant, both his future and career were on the line. Even so, he knew he would not be able to get any peace or shut her out completely from his life until he learnt the truth. He needed closure, so reluctantly Jack agreed, Okay, I’ll hear you out.

I really appreciate you seeing me after everything I’ve put you through. How can I ever repay you?

Whoa. Jack lashed back, pausing to regain his composure and control over the situation. Please -- don’t take this to mean yes, and just for the record I’m not making any promises. But, I’ll at least hear you out. Can I see you this Saturday?

Jackie breathed a sigh of relief. Without Jack, she had virtually no hope in hell at freedom. Saturday is fine. She relayed all the rules and regulations of having visitors and then heartily thanked Jack.

Jack slumped back in his chair. Emotionally overwhelmed and confused he felt a migraine setting in. Incapable of handling any more mental stress, Jack took refuge in an isolated state simply staring ahead. It was some time before he returned to a more stable frame of mind and began rethinking his future. One thing was for damn sure, he needed answers and fast. With or without Jackie, he was intent on moving on with his life. But first he was determined to unravel the truth, so the million dollar question was who could he turn to for answers? An idea then hit him, and Jack promptly reached for his Blackberry.

February 11, 2007

Nearly camouflaged in total darkness, shadows of his thin frame danced on the wall and partially over the blind. He stopped pacing and sat nervously perched next to the living room window. Charles was hiding out in the boondocks, in a cottage nestled miles away from civilization. This was a crash course on survival and he was living a rudimentary lifestyle. But despite this, and the fact that the closest home was at least a half mile away, Charles’s anxiety was in the stratosphere. His apprehension forced him to keep watch. He carefully parted the blinds before peering outside. Any minute, he envisioned the police storming in to arrest him, and then throwing him back into the hellhole. This thought had become firmly embedded in his mind, undoubtedly increasing his anxiety so much so that it inhibited his ability to come up with an escape plan. It had become his worst nightmare. After endless hours of keeping surveillance, Charles bravely forced himself to bottle-up his fears. He cautioned himself that if he continued to simply sit and wait, prison would in all likelihood become his permanent home. Instinctively, he also felt time was running out; he urgently needed to prove his innocence. But who the hell could he trust, or better yet who the hell would trust a fugitive? The media had already painted a not so pretty picture, with the captioning ‘A RUTHLESS SERIAL KILLER’. The realization that he couldn’t hideout in his cousin’s cottage forever was quickly setting in. If he surrendered, his chances were just as grim; he wouldn’t have a chance to prove anything. It would be like sealing his own coffin shut, virtually confirming him to be a cold heartless killer. Now was hardly the time for regrets, or to panic. His only means of exonerating himself was to come up with a plan. Charles paced nervously about. Maybe it was just enough to prove that he couldn’t have committed the murders, and that in itself would exonerate him.

He lit the pillar candle. Other than the flames from the woodstove, Charles only trusted this small spark of light. On the back of the cereal’s cardboard box, he furtively jotted down three dates. And then scribbled more notes, including a list of necessary supplies. Shit, he swore loudly realizing his near fatal blunder. The most crucial factor in remaining undetected was a good disguise. Charles correctly assumed that his photo was receiving rave reviews. While making his way to the washroom, he briefly contemplated dying his hair lighter, but quickly changed his mind opting for a more drastic look. Charles stood in front of the mirror and took a good long look. He opened the cabinet and right there sitting on the top shelf was a razor and a can of shaving cream sitting next to it. Hmmm… a bright smile lit Charles’s face. With long strokes, he watched each clump fall indiscriminately to the floor. After several more strokes, his head was virtually clean shaven. He reached for the baseball cap and adjusted the brim until it rested slightly above his eyes. Amazing, he thought. It took him awhile to adjust to his new look. He barely recognized himself. But, he couldn’t leave anything to chance, and once again grabbed the razor. His beard took a complete hit. Then he carefully sculpted the hairs around his upper lip, leaving his moustache intact. He slid on a pair of shades, and stared intently ahead. I think I’m safe to hit town now. The mirror reflected a sly smile.

The next challenge, ironically, would be breaking into his own home. He let out a small chuckle, realizing the madness his life had become. Charles had a hunch that it would be kept under tight surveillance, just in case he returned to retrieve something, or possibly use it as a refuge. He moved around the cottage scouring for supplies. Minutes later, he dumped a whole slew of items including a flashlight, a serrated knife, a screwdriver, a long rope, and a syringe needle he craftily snatched from the hospital onto the kitchen table. The rest of the items on the list would be picked up at a hardware store. It was at least an hour drive back to his house, but Charles figured that it would take half that time if he cut through the woods on snowmobile. The small alarm clock on the table now read six-forty-five. Charles did some fast calculations. He figured he could drop by a local hardware store, break into his home, and still be back at the cottage before midnight, assuming everything went as planned. He shoved the items into a large duffel bag. Charles then blew out the candle and used his flashlight to guide him out the front door.

The snowmobile weaved between a long stretch of evergreen trees. He accelerated up a steep incline and cornered around several bends before parking between two large trees. The snowmobile was well camouflaged and remained invisible from the main road. He casually set off on foot towards the hardware store. Despite his new look, Charles still felt jumpy and could feel his hands trembling. It took enormous courage for him to step inside the shop. Despite his outward calm appearance, Charles’s anxiety heightened to alarming proportions. His heart accelerated, and trickles of perspiration slid down his spine. Any minute now, he feared someone shouting ‘there he is’. Quietly, he continued to browse through the aisles. He noticed only a couple of customers stationed at the check-out counter. Charles tried acting casual as he slowly approached the check-out counter. Minutes later he left with items in hand, breathing a huge sigh of relief. The gentlemen which had checked out his goods had been pleasant enough and showed no signs of having recognized him. So far so good, thought Charles. But the real challenge lay ahead.

It seemed like an eternity that he had taken a leisurely stroll enjoying the park’s fresh air and pleasant view. It overlooked his backyard adding nicely to the greenery. But standing in the open made him feel apprehensive, being acutely aware of the profound consequences if discovered. Charles quickly took cover behind a cluster of trees. All the lights were out inside his house. He spotted no one lurking either inside or outside. Paranoid and clearly on edge, he kept a watchful eye, constantly peering in every direction. But not a single soul could be spotted outside. Although, there was always the strong probability that someone was keeping watch from the front of the house. It suddenly occurred to him that if there was a patrol officer on duty, he may now and again check the backyard.

Charles thought it best to keep surveillance for a while. If no one came to patrol the backyard, then there was a strong possibility that no one was keeping tabs on his house. He waited, now and again, peering in all directions. It was bone-chilling cold and he grew anxious, but Charles resisted the inclination of storming inside, weary of being spotted. Instead, he continued to gather support from the tree he rested against. While remaining in a hunched over position, both of his arms were wrapped around himself to shield himself from the dropping temperatures. Everything remained quiet for the longest time, and he figured it was time to make his move or run the risk of hypothermia. Tonight, the moonlight provided ample lighting. The packed snow glistened under the moon’s ambiance like thousands of shattered diamonds. He dared one final look around, before creeping closer towards his house. With each step forward, Charles distinctively heard the crunching sounds of fresh crisp snow underneath his black rubber soles. Everything looked magnificent covered in white, a magical wonderland surrounded him. As he crept in his backyard, it saddened him greatly to think it might be for the last time. His house keys had been confiscated from him, but there was a basement window which remained unlocked after having been damaged years ago. Luckily, he hadn’t bothered to repair it. The snow and ice packed around the window’s perimeter acted like a makeshift lock system. Charles continued to scrape the ice away with a flat screwdriver. As he lifted the screwdriver, he could hear the sound of faint footsteps approaching closer and closer. The only thing separating him from the approaching intruder was a wooden gate. Charles shifted into overdrive, giving the window a harder push. It finally gave way and Charles wasted no time shoving himself inside. He quietly set the duffel bag onto the floor. It took him only a split second to realize his first critical blunder. God no. He had left the screwdriver outside next to the window. Shit, Charles whispered under his breath. From his current crouched position, he could only see the bottom part of someone’s pant leg approaching from around the corner. The thump underneath his sweater grew louder and faster. Charles watched in a state of panic. He contemplated whether he should make another daring escape. Glued to his current position, he continued to watch the angle of the person’s shoe, praying the individual didn’t spot the carelessly discarded item. Luckily, the darkness and its accompanying shadows along with the fresh snow covered his footprints, and just maybe the forgotten screwdriver. Relief quickly set in as the officer turned the corner heading back to the front of the house. Charles needed to know how many were staking out his home. Quietly on tiptoe, one daring step at a time, he made his way up the winding staircase. Safely, he reached the main level. Continuing to move in a stealth-like manner, he walked into the living room which offered him the best view. Ever so slightly, Charles pulled the blinds apart and spotted a dark unmarked vehicle parked at the end of his driveway. It was slowly being covered by a light dusting of snow. The engine was kept running. He couldn’t be certain if it was the same individual who had just surprised him. Charles knew he had to act quickly. He ran to the top of the staircase and quickly dashed into his bedroom. His desk was completely covered with stacks of files. But despite the apparent disorder and confusion on top of his desk, he noticed someone had leafed through his paperwork, rearranging their order. But what he really needed was hidden underneath his desk. While bending over, he fervently fought with the hardwood plank. He gave it a strong tug before it finally broke free.

The officer caught the flicker of light. He continued to watch, but noticed nothing else. I’ve just seen a light flicker inside one of Charles’s bedrooms. It probably was just the reflection from one of the neighbor’s homes, but I’m going to check things out. Send backup just in case.

Right away, the dispatcher responded dutifully.

He yanked out the rectangular case and was about to blow the dust off when Charles suddenly stopped. Damn, what now! Charles cursed softly. He listened attentively. The distinct creaking sounds of the front door opening startled him. He knew someone had just entered his home. After many years of living in that house, Charles instantly recognized that sound. With swift movements, he shoved the case into the duffel bag. Briefly, he pondered if this was simply a routine check-up or somehow he had screwed up. Regardless, he had to get the hell out of sight.

With long brisk strides, he moved towards the bookshelf. Charles placed his left hand underneath the third shelf and tugged on the lever. The bookshelf slid away from the wall giving Charles enough space to sneak behind. He then pulled on another lever, concealing the trap door shut. He tiptoed along a narrow corridor,