Broken World (A Novel)

By J. M. Foster

Can you break what is already broken?

Broken World is a fast-paced modern thriller charged with suspense, action and political/sexual scandal. It confronts head-on real and controversial issues such as Roe v. Wade and the U.S. bi-partisan political system while exploring what it is like to cope with personal substance abuse and failed dreams.

The book opens with the brutal rape of Karen Torrance, the wife of self-made millionaire and senatorial candidate, Richard Torrance. Grizzled and jaded Detective Jennifer Kim, months away from retirement and full pension, is assigned the case along with her young protégé.

Kim believes she has “seen it all” until now. The two come to discover that Karen Torrance has been engaged in an extramarital affair with a former campaign aide, Mario Stiles, who was fired from her husband’s campaign staff. Stiles becomes the key suspect after he suddenly disappears but Kim believes he’s innocent.

Meanwhile, a media circus erupts. The rape of Karen Torrance becomes national news as a media circus descends upon the sleepy Midwestern town of Kent City. A press conference is called. It is widely believed that Richard Torrance, a staunch conservative and pro-life evangelist, will concede his flailing bid for the 4th Congressional seat until at the press conference in front of millions watching on TV his wife announces her affair and that she will not allow him to quit his campaign.

Detective Kim continues to pursue her belief in a “phantom semen sample” against the wishes of the City Prosecutor while battling her own cynicism and demons, including a failed relationship with her ailing mother, a sexually-molested sister that committed suicide and a raging addiction to alcohol.

Richard Torrance’s once-fledging campaign experiences a second life as public support and sympathy mount for him and his wife, thrusting him into the lead over his incumbent, ultra-liberal Democrat rival. Karen Torrance, struggling with the terrible after-effects of her rape, faces more shame and embarrassment when she realizes she is pregnant. She has no doubt who the father is but knows that she cannot consider abortion as an option without jeopardizing her husband’s political reputation.

The story climaxes with the election of Richard Torrance as state senator, the death of Mario Stiles while fleeing from the FBI and Kim’s discovery of the real rapist. When Kim further learns that the real rapist was hired by someone on Torrance’s campaign staff, she confronts the newly-elected senator the night of his acceptance speech to the world. What Richard Torrance does on stage is the surprise-ending that readers will never forget.

Each chapter of Broken World is highlighted with sobering statistics and insightful quotes on rape, abortion, addiction, politics and life as we know it (or think we know it)—entertaining and informing the reader at the same time.

It is a book that will make readers think and decide for themselves: “Can you break what is already broken?”

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. M. Foster
• Release date: Sep 19, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466041264

J. M. Foster

J. M. Foster was born in Bangkok, Thailand and grew up in the United States. He earned his BS in Journalism from the University of Missouri and his MBA from Baker University. He has worked in sales/consulting for several Fortune 50 companies. He currently resides in Kansas City, MO and plans to retire in Asia.

Book preview

Prologue

F-I-R-E!

The Rape Prevention Instructor taught her well.

Scream ‘FIRE’ versus ‘RAPE’. When you scream ‘RAPE’ people turn their heads and walk the other way. Scream ‘FIRE’ and people come running.

Karen Torrance screamed in vain. Every bone in the left side of her face was shattered. She couldn’t speak or move.

It happened in a heartbeat.

Digging through her purse for her car keys, his right fist connected with her jaw just as her head began to turn. She slumped against the driver’s side door and collapsed to the pavement before he scooped limp her body off the ground and poured it into the backseat.

Now she lay on her back—helpless. Blood filled her mouth. Pain pounded her skull. She turned her head and watched him sitting in the front seat.

Please, whatever you’re about to do, don’t do it. My husband is a very rich man. Surely we could…

Her attacker bummed a cigarette and lit up. The alley where her SUV was parked remained dark and lifeless. He fidgeted with the satellite radio until he found a song he liked. When the driver’s side door slammed, she felt safe. Then she watched him climb in the back seat with her. A ski mask covered his face.

F-I-R-E!

He started by tying her arms above her head. Then he ripped off her blouse. He fondled her perfect breasts, working his fingers in between her legs. He stopped to take another drag from the cigarette. He was in no hurry.

Karen looked up in horror. A primal switch in her brain shut down. Every nerve ending in her body went numb. When he extinguished his cigarette on the tip of her nipples, she felt nothing. She continued to scream.

F-I-R-E!

"Working toward the America you deserve through

conservative values you can believe in."

—Republican Senatorial Challenger, Richard Torrance, as posted on his official campaign web site

Chapter One

(66 days until the election)

The latest polling results were in.

Cancel the local photo-op with Union Representative, Senior Campaign Manager James Forrester barked. "And call that bitch at the Star before she starts calling us every five minutes. And where the hell is our illustrious press secretary this morning, sleeping in?"

Three campaign staffers shot up in their seats and disappeared.

Forrester stalked the 5-star hotel suite like a caged animal. Newspapers, MacBooks, IPads and Starbucks cups were scattered everywhere. A cell phone chirped every ten seconds. Outside the 50th floor window overlooking the Mississippi River, the sky was bleak. Freezing rain pelted the glass. The weather matched his mood—abysmal. Every media organization had his candidate trailing by double-digits. Women and minorities continued to favor the opponent on important swing issues like state welfare and legalized abortion. Undecided voters remained undecided. If the election were held today, it would be a landslide.

Forrester kicked a plastic trash can across the room.

Several staffers, all male Political Science grads fresh out of Big 12 universities, watched with bowed heads, making sure to appear busy with their mundane tasks trolling social media sites and scrubbing voter registration lists. One excused himself to the rest room to hide. Their boss’ political ass was on the line.

From the day multi-millionaire businessman Richard Torrance announced his mostly self-funded bid for governor, peers and pundits were quick to point out the obvious—-Forrester was a bad choice as his Senior Campaign Manager. It didn’t matter that Forrester had graduated summa cum laude from law school and was a successful public then private defense attorney before becoming the Chief Legal Officer for a Fortune 500 company. Or that he was a life-long, straight-ticket-voting Republican and liberal-hating, hard-line conservative. The facts remained. Forrester was grossly unqualified for the job and simply enjoying a never-ending ride on Richard Torrance’s coattails. After all, it was Torrance that had founded that same Fortune 500 Company and as President and CEO named Forrester Chief Legal Officer. It was Torrance that had been his best friend since childhood. Then there was the ultimate crime—Forrester was a complete virgin to big-time state politics. He had never served on a political campaign staff before in his life, nonetheless been in charge of one. Now he was proving all of those peers and pundits right. The latest polling results crumpled up on the floor confirmed it.

Is anyone going to get me another print-out or do I need to fire all of your asses? he snapped.

Two more staffers shot up in their seats.

Forrester stormed over to the full-sized bar and poured his fifth cup of coffee of the morning. Standing well short of six feet, he maintained a stocky, athletic build. His dark, Irish-Italian face was perpetually in need of a shave. His salt-and-pepper streaked hair was kept religiously close-cropped. He sighed and slurped his coffee. The latest headlines from CNN and every other major news network flashed on television screens with no sound across the room.

Forrester muttered. How in the hell am I going to tell Dick I just spent $250,000 of his hard-earned money on consulting, advertising and push polls that didn’t work?

Dick, his best friend since their days as altar boys at St. Mary’s Academy in was in the adjacent suite working the phones, talking to a local reporter, answering the same battery of inflammatory questions he had answered on every campaign stop for the past six months.

How do you answer your opponent’s claim that you are trying to buy your way into the Senate?

How can you support tax legislation that helps the rich and penalizes the middle-class?

How can you condemn gay marriage and a woman’s right to choose?

How can you oppose government funding for stem cell research?

Forrester took another slurp of coffee; his workaholic mind in overdrive. Their working breakfast with the Governor was at nine. The sheer prospect made him cringe. Not only was the incumbent governor a smug, self-righteous SOB with strong approval ratings and high party favor, most assuredly he would spend the entire meeting reminding Torrance why he was an idiot for selecting Forrester as his senior campaign manager in the first place.

A staffer with perfectly-spiked blond hair and designer eyeglass frames walked up to the bar and handed him the print-out then darted away. Forrester took it but didn’t bother to look. His shoulders sagged. The prospect of losing the campaign didn’t bother him nearly as much as letting down his best friend. He owed Richard Torrance more than any one knew. He finished his fifth cup coffee and poured another.

There was an urgent knock outside the door.

"Rape: Forced sexual intercourse; sexual assault; sexual intercourse between an adult and a minor. Rape may be heterosexual (involving members of opposite sexes) or homosexual (involving members of the same sex). Rape involves insertion of an erect penis or an inanimate object into the female vagina or the male anus. Legal definitions of rape may also include forced oral sex and other sexual acts."

—Medical Definition

Chapter Two

Sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

The sheer cluster-fuck of lights, noise, and humanity swarming outside St. Luke’s Hospital was a sight to behold. Action News vans and black-and-white police cruisers were lined up bumper-to-bumper for fifty yards on each side of the street. The entire city block had been closed to pedestrian traffic. Wooden barricades and yellow police tape markers were everywhere. A swarm of local news helicopters swarmed overhead like angry hornets.

Forrester shook his head. Even after months on the campaign trail filled with jam-packed press conferences, $10,000-a plate fund-raising galas and highly-orchestrated public appearances, he had never seen anything like it. For a second, he actually felt surprised that the local media had gotten hold of the story so quickly. He looked down at his watch. It had been less than two hours since the unexpected knock on the hotel suite door and fifteen minutes since the Torrance private jet touched down at the Executive Airport near downtown.

As the motorcade drew closer, his surprise quickly faded. If there was one thing he had learned in his brief political career it was that there were no secrets. For all he knew, it could have been one of his own deputies that leaked the news. He reached over and patted his best friend’s bony knee. It’s going to be okay, Dick. The doctors said that she’s going to be alright.

Richard Torrance sat beside his campaign manager in the back of the stretch limousine as stiff and lifeless as a corpse, oblivious to the swirling media maelstrom waiting to engulf him. His lean, handsome face that women and cameras naturally loved appeared ashen. His perfectly-coiffed hair was disheveled. He looked older than his 53 years. Forrester kept his hand on his friend’s knee and squeezed. The two highly-trained private bodyguards wearing stiff black suits sitting across from them facing toward the back of the limousine watched but said nothing. The motorcade suddenly came to a stop in the circular drive.

Are you ready, Dick?

Torrance nodded.

Forrester motioned to the hulking bodyguards, who sprang out of their seats and barreled out of the back seat in tandem, creating a human shield while carving out a path to the hospital entrance. Forrester emerged from the limousine behind his candidate and was met by a sea of jutting arms, microphones and white lights. His vision was quickly blinded.

The questions came in tidal waves.

What is your wife’s current condition?

Do police have any suspects at this time?

Do you plan to drop out of the campaign?

One reporter even had the gall to ask, Have you seen the latest polling numbers that put you 11 points behind Senator Washington?

For a moment, Forrester considered turning around and clocking the SOB in the face. But there was no time. He had to get his best friend inside the hospital. Polling numbers no longer mattered—only Karen.

"Rape is not a sexual crime. It is not sexual. Rape is a violent crime...where you cum at the end. It’s no different than if you robbed a liquor store... and then came."

—Adam Carolla

Chapter Three

KAREN!

Karen Torrance was floating. The water around her was warm and painless. On the ocean floor she should see a freeway full of cars. In the distance was a shore line. Standing on it were men wearing gloves and surgical masks, holding needles and bloody scalpels. Next to them were her parents and older sister, Grace. Grace had died of AML leukemia when Karen was ten. Grace loved unicorns.

They continued to call out to her.

KAREN!

She called back.

F-I-R-E!

When she awoke, the first thing she saw was the Lord Jesus Christ. He was nailed to a metal cross and mounted on the wall across the room next to a flat-screen television. The television was turned off. She blinked twice. When her vision cleared, she saw a man in a suit sitting in the corner of the room slumped in a chair with his head propped up against his fist. She recognized him immediately. It was James Forrester, her husband’s best friend and campaign manager. He needed of a shave.

Where am I?

From somewhere in the room she could hear the rhythmic, digitalized beat of her own heart. In her nose, she detected the high-pitched smell of formaldehyde.

How did I get here?

She tried to sit up but couldn’t. She tried to speak with the same result.

What happened to me?

She glanced down and saw her husband for the first time. He was sitting at her bedside, hunched forward with his head on the sheets, holding her hand in his. She couldn’t tell if he was asleep or praying. His hair was stiff and matted. His skin was ashen. He looked older—much older. Again, she tried to speak but couldn’t. She squeezed his hand with what little strength she had.

Her husband’s head immediately shot up. His eyes were wild and lazy with lack of sleep. It took him a moment to regain his bearings. He rose to his feet and looked down at her with the most pitying expression she had ever seen. He stroked her forehead the way he always did when he was lying.

It’s going to be okay, he said. You’re going to be okay. Tears swelled in his eyes.

Karen felt a surge of panic.

What is going on?

What is he talking about?

A floodgate opened in her mind. The memories came crashing back. She remembered a fist appearing over her left shoulder, the electric pain in her jaw, screaming and no one in the world rushing to help her, him writhing on top of her and slapping her across the face, the rap song playing on the radio, the smell of her own burning flesh.

She remembered everything and began to cry.

Front page story appearing in the Kent City Star:

Candidate’s Wife Attacked, Raped; Senate Race in Question

Karen Torrance, 38, was attacked and raped on Thursday according to authorities. The attack occurred at approximately one a.m. near Jefferson Avenue and 46th Street. Torrance was taken to St. Luke’s Hospital. Her condition is listed as