Lost Cause

By Valerie Biamonte

In the midst of Florida’s heat, a vigilante’s elaborate plan to slaughter almost a hundred death row inmates is executed flawlessly.

Homicide Detective Jason Winters and his team take on the hot case. The detective soon sets his sights on a local group of activists who are touting the massacre as a windfall for the state, saving it well over a hundred million dollars.

As Jason digs deeper into the lives of those who may be involved, he begins to wonder if money is the true motive of the massacre’s mastermind.

It isn’t long before Jason’s suspects are dying mysteriously and it’s too late when he realizes he’s next on the killer’s list. The vigilante will stop at nothing and Jason is forced to come to terms that the lost cause in this case could be his life...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Valerie Biamonte
• Release date: Apr 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9780984580378

Valerie Biamonte

Valerie Biamonte is an accountant by day and an author by night. Valerie has three main focuses in her writing career: Novels, Screenplays, and Children’s books. Her mystery/thriller Silent Russian, recently took 1st place in the annual Mate E Palmer Communications Contest! She's hoping to take another 1st place at the national level of the competition in September 2012. She is a member of National Women's Press Association and Sisters in Crime. Valerie’s accounting career is with the top Foodservice Buying, Marketing & Training Group in the nation, located in Illinois. Valerie is happily married to Realtor and photographer, Joe Biamonte, and has one grown son. Previous accomplishments: a) The children’s picture/story read-to-me book titled Two Dogs and a Tale, formerly published through Publish America. Valerie recently participated in Elk Grove Village’s Byrd Elementary School’s Read America, where she read Two Dogs and a Tale to 150 students. b) Recently completed and available for production is the dark comedy screenplay Business As Usual. Visit www.TheWoopsInc.com for the synopsis of this darkly hilarious script. c) The Ghost of Retirement Screenplay. Full synopsis for this Horror film is available at www.TheWoopsInc.com d) Einstein the Destroyer, a children’s story/activity book. See www.TheWoopsInc.com e) Lost Cause a mystery/suspense novella that'll leave you at the edge of your seat! d) Attended the Chicago Printers Row Lit Fest on June 9th & 10th 2012. We had a great time at the IWPA tent on Dearborn & Polk.

Book preview

Chapter 1

In the middle of the night, Liam Adler was relaxing on his threadbare cot, ignoring the smell of sweat. His white hair and pasty pale skin practically glowed in the dark. Even though the lights were out, his eyes were wide open staring at the ceiling. He spent a lot of his time daydreaming, and it really didn’t matter what time of day it was. Memories were all Liam had left. Living on death row for almost eight years limited his ability to make new memories. What he spent most of his time reliving were thoughts of the two-dozen children he had raped and murdered across the state. He cherished each one of them. He spent a good portion of time thinking about his first, little Brittany. One always remembers one’s first. Oh, how he wanted her memory to stay forever! Unfortunately, it had faded. He barely remembered what she smelled like or the pitch of her screams.

But he cheered himself with the thought of his current lifestyle. A half-sneer and half-smile crossed his face. He wanted to laugh out loud. He was happily alive because of all the appeals he was going through. If he played his cards right, they could take another six years. He had three squares a day and wasn't exposed to the general population, who were animals as far as he was concerned. He got to enjoy cable television, air conditioning in the sweltering Florida heat and even received fan mail. He laughed at the bimbos who would write to him oh-so-sorry that he was misunderstood. He could have married any one of them but declined their offers. They were much too old for his taste. He preferred fresh meat. Six years old suited him just fine. Young and innocent.

Someday, he’d spit in the face of his accusers, too, those thinking his life was so deservedly rough on death row. Hell, he had it better now than he ever did on the outside.

Liam smiled in the darkness, his yellow teeth indistinguishable. Then he smelled it, a rancid odor coming from the ductwork. It started out weak, barely a whiff, but quickly became strong enough to gag him. He sat up on the cot, covered his nose with his hand and muttered, What the hell?

****

The stranger stood impatiently in the locked utility/maintenance room and watched the needle climb on the pressure gauge on a rigged tubular high-pressure device. One end of the piping went directly into the ventilation system and branched out to more than a hundred cells. The odor of methane was difficult to take even at low levels, but it was nothing compared to the smells now flooding death row.

The sweat was wiped off the uninvited visitor’s forehead with the sleeve of a prison guard uniform. Frantic footsteps and questioning shouts could be heard in the hall.

The stranger gripped a long-reach extended butane lighter and looked at the door and then back at the gauge. Come on, just a little more, come on…

The gauge was finally in the red zone. The new vigilante opened a small, circular airway in the piping and stuck the flaming end of the lighter into the hole. A loud WHOOSH followed as flame ignited gas. The flap was quickly shut but not before a burst of flame jutted into the room. Satisfied, the stranger stepped back and waited.

The wait wasn’t long.

There was a sound much like that of a small bomb going off. It rocked the utility room, about twenty yards from the first of the so-called victims. Almost immediately, screams and cries of dozens of death row inmates resounded through the hall as they burned to death in their cells.

From a portable monitor with touch-screen capabilities and software that was used to tap into the prison’s security system, the stranger watched the events with great satisfaction. Huge bursts of flame coming out of each cell, one by one in rapid succession, could be seen on the small screen. Sleeves and arms were on fire as the convicted murderers reached out for help that wasn’t coming. The quality of the security system was extraordinary in the prison. Several inmates’ skin burning off could be seen in grave and painful detail. The stranger could only imagine what their blistering faces must look like. Flames continued to shoot out of the prison cells as though giant blowtorches had been set off in each of them. The fire did not recede but continued to burn steadily. The supply of methane did not decrease, and there was no timer to shut off the source. The vigilante wanted it to keep on coming until they all paid the price.

More shouts from the guards could be heard. The shock of what was happening around them was evident by their hysterical voices. The vigilante looked at a watch for a moment, listened to the sound of footsteps receding and then tapped a few icons on the monitor and could see the hall outside. It was already filled with smoke.

It was just the cover needed.

The stranger checked a few other camera positions to determine where the guards were and was relieved to see no one was coming back to the utility room. The locks on the door opened easily. The vigilante took one last peek at the monitor and then stepped out of the room. The smell of burning flesh and other materials would sting the nasal passages of anyone not wearing a mask. With a handkerchief covered nose, the stranger walked out of the building.

Mission accomplished.

Chapter 2

Homicide Detective Jason Winters walked slowly through the corridor wearing a cloth mask to cover his nose and mouth. His cowboy boots made a tapping noise with each step. The stench of death and charred human remains clung to the air, penetrated his drab clothes and his hair. He viewed the carnage around him objectively. He watched more of the dead being removed by the medical examiner's office; their hands and arms bent like pugilists’, the flesh peeled back and exposing bright, white bones. Jason cringed and sought out his favorite crime scene technician. He found her in a prison cell on a step ladder taking off a grate that was covering the ductwork.

Pam, Jason smiled for the first time that day. His Texas drawl was only slightly faded after so many years in the heart of Florida. Whatcha got for me?

At 26, Pamela Oxford was ten years younger than Jason. Her red hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her green eyes were covered by safety glasses, and her freckled hands were encased in gloves and soot. She gave him a sad smile. Besides dead bodies, you mean? She couldn’t help but grin as she looked him over. You and that hat. She shook her head.

Jason liked his old Stetson. He’d swear on a stack of bibles the hat brought him good luck. He solved some of his most difficult cases wearing it, and now he needed all the help he could get. Jason nodded and their eyes met. Then his mind wandered and he seemed to look at nothing. He knew Pamela lived alone just as he did. And he thought she was a cute kid, worth getting to know better. After three failed marriages, however, he decided to back off and just enjoy her company in a professional way. It was the mature thing to do. A girl her age might even gross out over the scars on his leg. He knew he shouldn't be so self-conscious. Normally, he wasn’t. After all, the wounds were the result of being shot on the job. He was lucky to be alive. He decided for the hundredth time to leave Pam be. If she were ever to make an offer, though . . .

Yo, detective. Are you with me? Pam smiled.

Jason nearly blushed. She had caught him spacing out on more than one occasion over the past few years. She probably thought he was a moron. Fear of rejection was another reason he didn't pursue her.

I'm here physically, mentally and unfortunately. Just wondering who the hell would do this? He looked around, concern showing in the faint creases around his eyes.

Pam held the 5.5 x 11 scorched grate in her hand and shrugged. We'll find out. This is a big job, took a ton of planning. Come look at this. With her free hand, she aimed a flashlight in the ductwork. Yep, here's another one.

Jason stepped closer, the faint limp in his right leg unnoticeable. Pam climbed down the ladder. She handed Jason the flashlight.

What is it? he asked.

You have to see it to believe it, sir.

He pushed his hat back and looked in the ductwork. A PVC pipe was inside, with one end protruding into the narrow space the grate covered. He followed the piping and saw that it went back into the main duct, where it was a mere arm coming off a main pipe. The main piping continued before and after this section. From his vantage point, there was no telling where the strange piping started and where it ended.

This doesn't belong here, obviously. What is it?

"It's part of the weapon, so to speak. The gas traveled through this narrow piping to keep a steadier and more potent stream directed into